#and walking unethical experiment

[gay-little-izzet]

I love making up guys

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

not nonbinary as in not a woman but nonbinary as in rejects the sexualising male gaze and having no internal sense of gender in the least

[fellhellion]

it's morbidly funny to me that something like the raimiverse takes the idea of peter acting with the intent to kill and

a) negates there being an actual death,

and b) utilises this more to explore the idea of who deserves to live and die at the hands of another and perhaps most importantly, is it possible to even determine that and should someone have that power

and then you've just got 2099 Miguel out here having sadman moments in the rain like ah fuck i'm not sorry at all i let vulture fall, fuck that guy. <- struggling w the fact he's had enough character development to recognise the harm in this world for what it is and that he doesn't want to turn away from it anymore

[honeydewandcake]

TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

[naffeclipse]

A sort of mad scientist AU where Y/N is, of course, a mad scientist. You suffer from chronic illness and you are desperate to make your experiments work but you struggle without help. You refuse to take on a human assistant out of a desire to not be treated as lesser--as if you can't conduct great, horrific experiments like the other crazed scientists. You stubbornly set yourself to work without any such succor in your tower and the days pass, wearing heavily on your soot marked hands and aching, waning body.

A solution appears right at your feet one evening while rummaging around for some material in the grimy streets (dead animals, toxic waste--the usual to carry out unethical tests) and discover two abandon animatronics in the back alley, left to rot and turn to rust. There's close to zilch hope for the two but you're not a mad scientist for no reason. You drag the endoskeletons home before prompting collapsing for a day or two after overextending yourself and paying the price.

Once you get your strength back (and cursing your weakness) you turn all your effort to cleaning and preparing the endoskeletons. The celestial model of the animatronics would be helpful in your work, no? One after the solar ball of gas which beams heat and light onto the world and the other after the gray rock which brightens the night and tugs on the tides. Sun and Moon. You solder wires and revamp the servos. You hold and handle the limbs and heads of the animatronics as if they were sleeping. Soon, they will wake.

There's just one problem. They need a spark. Not a bit of ember from fire or the first crack of electricity from a splitting fork of lightning. A spark of life. And you contain such material within yourself. It's dangerous to lord over life and play god, but you need them.

The night storms when you prepare the animatronics with their chassis open, lying down on tables. You are steady despite the buzz in your veins in the face of the most dangerous experiment you have conducted yet. With these two are your side, there will be many to come. You spill your blood, split away two pieces of your pulsing core, and set two tiny sparks of life from your beating heart into the animatronics. Your head spins with pain and hope. The hum of servos whirling to life touches your eardrums. A great rumble of thunder shakes the tower. Your vision is slowly swallowed by darkness as you start to collapse but before you fall, two glowing pairs of eyes open.

When you wake, you're in your bed, in the dark, and your chest is bandaged. You hardly have the strength to touch the blood-stains soaking into the gauze but a silver and blue hand stops you. Red eyes pierce you at your bedside, a dark personage holding your wrist. Standing on the other end of your bed is a tall figure with ghostly pale optics falling over you. Dread fills your marrow at what exactly you brought back from death. A raspy voice raises a question. Who are you?

The animatronics. They're alive. They want answers, and you are more than willing to supply them. You give a very detailed, breathy response about how this all came to be, and when you propose that they become your assistants in your endeavors, they silently share a glance and nod in unison.

Though you fear you got off to a rough start with them putting you into bed after making sure your heart was still beating, they prove to be everything you want—and more. They have no desire to return to whoever tossed them to the street and left them as scrap metal, and you finally have extra hands to hold together metal contraptions and nimble fingers to set the exact scalpel blade size you need in your hand when cutting into a carcass.

They do not infantilize you in your sickness, much to your aching relief. Sun, however, is poignant in reminding you that pushing yourself past your energy capability, such as walking into town and dragging back a metallic frame for a killing contraption, will result in you needing a day of recovery. Moon sharply remarks that willingly subjecting yourself to an overnight of experimenting with beating hearts and lightning strikes will most likely cause a pain flare, but they never stop you. They never decide for you. They see you—not the unending illness clawing at your edges and leaving its marks on your flesh.

Though you learn to manage yourself better—for science, of course. You request Sun's assistance for lifting heavy plates into place before you bolt and screw them down. He's all too cheerful to lend a hand. When it grows late, you allow Moon to lead you to bed before the fire in your muscles becomes a roaring inferno. He tells you softly that he's been recording the number of good and bad days you have, and that your flare-ups don't appear as often when you have a full night's rest. Your assistants are pleased—with the improvement in your experiments, of course.

It's rare, but sometimes you'll catch an odd sentence or two from Sun about where they were before, and how much nicer it is here. You give them much. You don't shout or throw things at them. He lays a hand over his chassis and smiles. Moon will look at you sometimes, and when you ask why he's staring, he says that you have never raised a hand to them. It's strange. He thought all mad scientists were the same. He's glad to be wrong.

You're glad they're with you too. Your science has never been madder and you don't lay through bad days alone anymore. You don't like talking about your chronic illness. The discussions you've had in the past with peers and professors revolved around how you're handling it and what it's doing to you today. Can you still do your work? It's not mad or experimental or new—it's just sad. Other people think you're sad and pitiful, and you would rather die trying to conduct a hazardous experiment than ever stop to tend to yourself.

Sun and Moon learn to take your mutters and curses in stride when another flare-up hits. They ask questions occasionally, wondering how long you've lived with this and if it would ever be cured but they seem to already suspect the answer. Sure, you've tried several times to manufacture an antidote to whatever poison sits in your veins, but such endeavors have only ended with you waking up, lying in your own vomit. They don't give you pity, not like the others have. No, Sun holds your hand between his large digits and asks if you've eaten anything yet. Moon touches your shoulder when you stare out of the circular window in your tower and asks if he can walk you to your bed.

They need you, and they know what great work you're doing here, crafting weapons of mass destruction, simmering glowing liquids, and putting together new creations—not like them, no. Nothing compares to your assistants.

[moonjellysfeast]

My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader

cw; (C/n) is Code name, manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

You were probably too young to be involved in such an experiment, not even proper college age nor finished with your classes. But, you were very advanced in your studies, you were still top of your classes despite moving up several grades when you were younger, and they were getting desperate. You remember sitting in the meeting, this company had really only planned to discuss simple matters as a way of showing you how you were expected to interact once you finished school and they actually hired you. They got caught up in more urgent matters and forgot you bore witness to their panic and desperation until you raised a hand to silence the room and flatly announced.

"I have the darling gene... I could probably further his infection. He'd listen to me, I promise" They weren't happy about it, but they were truly desperate, so you were hired.

You first met him in the facility's basement, he was in a large glass room, a small hole cut into the bullet-proof glass to keep you safe when talking with him. You had several psychology classes and so you felt confident in your scheme to make him obedient.

"Hello" You spoke softly and he turned to you, clearly upset, "It's nice to meet you. Do you have a name?"

He glared at you for a bit before walking towards the hole in the glass and quietly grumbling, "I do... A real one..."

You smiled at him, he was only a year or two younger than you, but you would have to treat him more like a child until he knew you were safe. You approached him, ensuring you looked as confident as you felt, you weren't scared of him and he had no need to fear you yet.

"Give me your name, then. We can't be friends unless you tell me at least that much" Your words were laced with honey, he eyed your sweet smile with suspicion and you watched his eyes shift. He was coming around to the idea.

"Elias... I think... no, I am right... I am named Elias..." Even just at the confusion of his name, his eyes were round and damp. You held back the tug of a grin to give him a gentle smile instead.

"You can call me (Y/n). Elias is a beautiful name. It suits you" He looked at you with awe now, like it was the first compliment he'd ever heard, "You know, the people here call me (C/n), isn't that a funny name? Do they call you something like that?"

"Yes. Crybaby... I don't like it" He'd looked so adorable, crouched on the other side of the glass, confessing his thoughts like deep secrets, and watching you with those wet eyes.

You had been completely correct in your assumption that you could further his infection, when you next saw him, his irises were clear heart shapes and he hopped up to greet you at the glass.

"Good morning, Elias~ You seem energetic" You mused as he fidgeted a bit and nodded. "I'd like to play a game today, if you're up for it"

"A game?" He was clearly wary, surely experiments had been done to him in the form of 'games' previously, but he had to trust you.

"It's like simon says. Do you know that game?" he shook his head slowly, "Well, I'm going to tell you to do things, but I only want you to listen when I call you Crybaby, Ok?"

"Why?" He whined

"Because, It'll be fun. Friends play games all the time and we're friends now! We'll start easy; Crybaby, sit down," He sat with little hesitancy, "Very good. Stand up, Crybaby," He stood, "Elias, please come closer"

He walked toward you and you made quite a show of disappointment, causing him to scramble back into place and apologize, already welling up with tears.

"No, no, it's ok. You forgot the rules. Like I said, we're starting easy so it's not a big issue. Crybaby, come here" He hesitated before scrambling to the glass window, tears streaming down his face already.

The games continued each day, once he was good at listening as crybaby, you started referring to Crybaby and Elias as different people, even giving them rules.

"Crybaby doesn't know my name, you only know me as (C/n), right? You pet his head, watching him nod along to your words. "Who am I?"

"(Y)- no... (C/n)..."

"Good boy, you're really learning. I'm sure Elias would be proud of you as well, Crybaby"

You also had begun entering his cell, he adored when you did and would cling to you until you demanded he stop. With becoming so close to him, you also had to begin enforcing all of your rules more strictly.

"(Y/n) I don't kno-" He crumpled to the floor the moment you hand landed on his cheek.

"That's not what you call me, is it, Crybaby?" You sneered as he cradled his cheek and began to tear up again.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorry- mhhn, Please don't be mad! (C/n), sir, please!" You placed a hand over his own, silencing him.

"I know you didn't mean it, but we can't have you being bad, can we? No, Crybaby, you have to be a good boy and listen to me. Now, you remember where it is, mark the artery I told you to."

He shakily got up and made an x on the mannequin's neck, precisely where you told him to.

"Good boy" you smiled a bit, " We'll have to work on your crying. as much as your name is apt, no one will like you crying so much when you start to actually work..."

There will be more of this fic but I am stuck.

[foone]

Bad idea for a fic:

Weird Tumblr Domme is walking home one night and she gets picked up by a flying saucer. She's all like "don't probe me" and they hesitatingly explain through a translation decide that they're not gonna probe her... But probing is what they're here for. They explain that they need help with their studies and she lights up immediately and agrees to help them probe and kidnap fellow humans.

You see, they picked the right person. She's also dreamed of doing unethical experiments on humans, ever since she was a little boy.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Here’s some random Port Mafia headcanons I have.

Both public and private transport was safe and ran smoothly in Yokohama up until Albatross’s death.

Kouyou had an alt phase as a teenager and had burned all evidence of it. A quick way to get sent to an early grave is to bring it up.

Higuchi will pull rank on Gin and Tachihara if she needs too. But she refuses to pull rank on Hirotsu.

Akutagawa hates coffee and every time he’s forced to drink it for a long mission he adds a truly unethical amount of cream and sugar to it.

And he’ll still grumble that it’s too bitter.

Anytime anyone complains about work being hard Kouyou and Hirotsu regale them with tales of working for the old boss. Oh is the paperwork a lot? At least you won’t see someone shot 50 times for writing in blue pen.

Akutagawa and Gin had a bet going on to see how long it would take the others to release she was a girl and his sister.

Chuuya expected Hirotsu to hold a grudge when they met again. But Hirotsu simply said Chuyya’s hat suited him. And left saying to call him if he ever wanted to get a drink.

Chuuya grinned and said he’d take him up on that. Well if Hirotsu was paying which made the other chuckle.

Pianoman can actually play piano.

Mori regularly sends assassins after Fukuzawa to make sure he isn’t getting too rusty.

Tachihara dyed his hair brown for an undercover mission and refused to look in the mirror afterwards.

Verlaine is the boogeyman of the Port Mafia. He has definitely used it to fuck with people for his own amusement though he denies it every time.

Mori has shown up late to meetings because he’s gone for a walk in the city and dropped everything when a medical emergency has happened.

He hears “is there a doctor here?!” And instantly runs over to help.

Kajii has become so invested in an experiment he started writing his theories on the walls of his lab because he ran out of paper.

No one has managed to guess Hirotsu’s age.

Chuuya’s the only person Kouyou acts her age around.

Tachihara and Higuchi go to shooting ranges together when they’re stressed.

When Alabatross first got his moniker he would make bird sounds anytime his name was mentioned.

Mori’s scarf isn’t the original Port Mafia Boss scarf. It’s the 3rd iteration and if you squint closely you can see the remains of a cut off price tag.

Lippman can do scarcely accurately impressions of the rest of the flags and several other Port Mafia members. He has used this power to prank call the other flags.

[valtsv]

i've definitely said this before but it really does drive me crazy that the alien prequel-sequel films (prometheus and covenant) set up such a compelling narrative foils-who-are-also-mirrors gothic horror in space dynamic in david and elizabeth and then just abandoned it and fast forwarded to the conclusion. i don't even think they were necessarily wrong to end it the way they did (with david killing elizabeth because he knew she would never share his god complex, destroying her species' "gods", and further violating her body without her consent by doing fucked up unethical engineering experiments with her corpse out of a perverse desire to create new life with her in the only way he can), but it feels so cheap and such a disservice to the characters that they didn't show us everything that led to that point. the development of the messed up codependent psychosexual Thing they had as the only survivors of the prometheus expedition, and its inevitable paranoid breakdown when it became clear that they were ideologically opposed in fundamentally immutable ways, culminating in one of them inevitably destroying the other. it's not like they would even have had to give up all the religious imagery/parental trauma themes that they tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to use in covenant. if anything it would've been even better *finishes my drink and leaves the bar without paying, walking out into the night before you can stop me*

[danidoesathing]

@orbmanson7

DAMN THEY WERE LYING THIS MOVIE'S EVEN GAYER

damn they weren't lying this movie gay as hell

[fujoshi-her]

dolly dog man readthrough #5

PART #2

for whom the bell tolls

TRUST GET TO THE END OF THIS RAMBLE I GET RLLY NERDY

bro the behavioral modification therapy thing traumatized him

i've heard this is a common criticism of BMT but feel free to correct me

i feel as though this form of therapy may be unethical...

jesus. no wonder bro has problems with intimacy bro literally does not know what love feels like

lowkey saving this for myself bc i need to remember this

lowkey this is just my dad

anyways this is also not healthy obviously and another thing that would contribute to a personality disorder

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. YES HE IS. AND THIS IS WHY.

that fear doesn't come from nowhere, it was instilled in him by his dad from a young age

li'l petey my anarchist boy back at it again

oh baby

petey sees himself in his son so much rn and it's heartbreaking

HE TOOK EVERYTHING THAT'D BENEFIT HIM PRACTICALLY

BUT HE DIDN'T CARE FOR THEIR LOVE

BECAUSE HE CAN'T FATHOM PUTTING HIMSELF BEFORE OTHERS

it'd be too painful for him to confront his lifestyle choices, so he fell back into his old harmful habits and left his past behind

he's insistent on keeping this promise because his father never kept any of his promises

it's a recently opened wound, so it's his first impulse. distance himself as much as possible from his father's identity to distance himself from the hurt

THE COLOR THEORY THAT'S USED TO SET TONE IN THIS BOOK. IT'S SO WELL DONE

and now he sees what he's done in his son's mind from an outside perspective. he has cursed his son to the same fate as him, a nihilistic hopeless view on life. and he hates it. his son doesn't deserve that. he doesn't deserve to go through what he did. he's so young, he hasn't done anything wrong. through realizing this, he realizes that he didn't deserve it either, and that his view on the world isn't any more correct because of his own experiences, it's just a damaged unhealthy view of it. he deserves better too. he can create better things for himself, like love for his son

so that's what he does

he does what he can. he reinforces his son's value, which was damaged by his grampa. he inserts a more positive world view, to try and change what alterations he may have caused to his sons psyche

...

my shayla

THE SYMBOLISM OF THIS SCENE MAKES ME GO FERAL AND IS THE ENTIRE REASON I GOT INTO THIS FANDOM. THIS SCENE I FIRST SAW IN THE MOVIE AND IT'S JUST AS GOOD IF NOT BETTER IN THE COMIC

he's turning something seen as "bad" or "wrong" by society into something beautiful that will spark joy and serve a purpose. he lets himself walk through the mud to get home, he turns even that into a positive experience, letting himself feel wonder about his surroundings instead of repressing his feelings, turning them to stone cold logic. this represents his newfound effort in, not repressing his personality, but in learning to cope with it healthily and create a life worth living. a life with a purpose, something he denied himself for so long. it represents being given the chance of recovery as someone with a personality disorder.

i love this book so much

[rosy-crow]

Shinra is so, so stupid for having what is functionally a walking nuclear weapon strolling around their facilities and not taking five minutes to schedule regular therapy sessions for him.

But this is Shinra, of course. Same bozos who thought dropping the plate would be an AMAZING idea just because a couple of eco terrorists started nagging them

Ikr, it’s like….

Shinra: Hey so, we are gonna have the worst guy in our science department raise you with no mother and you’ll live in a box cell under the creepiest part of the building which is conveniently on the floor right under our executive suite and president’s office and is full of monsters and unethical experiments screeching and howling in agony under dissection machines from hell and we’re going to modify/strengthen you until you question your very humanity and the scientist guy is gonna catalogue and collect from your body and pump you full of mako from a young age and you’re not realllyyy gonna be able to leave the building unless we deploy you, but don’t worry!! We are going to deploy you barely into your teens so that you can finish this little genocide we started on an island euheu, no big deal. Kill the children and elderly tho or they will literally kill you, btw. And don’t worry!! Nobody will know that nasty part because we started a nice fanclub full of adults for you when you were a toddler and we share cute pics of you with them and we also put your face everywhere to recruit other kids into our war program and made you look like a hero!! Isn’t that cute? What’s that?? Mother? N-normal…life? Omg hahahaha, you’re hilarious lmao. Anyway, don’t fail us or we’ll not let you lead a team again or socialize for a longggg time okay? 🥰 And we might film everything you do too! We’re gonna do that anyway. What’s…that….you made friends…okay well that’s fine, but don’t get distracted from the war!! Do other little side missions for the president too. We need you every five seconds, okay? No time to stop and think ahaha. Oh your friends are deserters now…oh well, be a dear and kill them for us okay? No? Okay we’ll do it, no problem.

Sephiroth: Wait but—

Shinra: OH GOD YOU WANT TO LEAVE US??? Okay just go on this one last mission okay? You might find your rotting, dying bestie Genesis alive if you gooo 💕 teehee yes good y—chat why is he acting like that….guys….what is he….fuck the village is on fire….wait that’s where we produced him too!! Is this related perhaps? Wow….okay this is crazy. How could he do this???? Hello??? Okay sheesh. Cover it up and fix everything and experiment on the leftover villagers. Oh and erase all that hero propaganda. Yeah erase him. He’s done. Whatever. Lame. Maybe we should have invested in some therapists…hmm….eh. Nah. It’s fine. MOVING ON!

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Eva (Ch.1)

Summary: X-men including Logan, are being sent to retrieve a young mutant woman from a experiment facility. However, not everything goes as planned.

Content Warning: mean Logan, like he's actually a jerk here. Hurt, pain, angst (hell a lot of it), mentions of torture, experiments, violence, mentiones of suicide/wanting to die,

Author's note: So I actually planned on this series for a while. Not gonna lie Deadpool and Wolverine gave me a bit of a push to finally publish this series. Keep in mind that this does not take place during Deadpool 3 timeline. This series will have lots of angst so brace yourselves and I really hope you will all love it the same way I love writing it ❤️

Word count: 8 326

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of technology from the giant monitor hanging on the wall. Around the long, metallic table sat the core members of the X-Men—Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy, and Logan, who sat at the far end, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen.

Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table, his hands folded in front of him. The image on the screen showed a grainy surveillance feed from the inside of the lab they were about to raid. It was dark, but even through the low-quality footage, they could see her—Eva. Curled up in a glass cell, arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly ahead. Her small frame seemed fragile, but the readings from Cerebro painted a different picture entirely.

“She’s been in there for years,” Charles began, his voice calm and measured. “A captive, used as an experiment by a faction of scientists attempting to create new, enhanced mutants.”

Jean’s brow furrowed, her eyes full of concern. “They’ve been adding mutations to her, manipulating her DNA. That’s… unethical doesn’t even begin to describe it. How has she survived this long?”

“Barely,” Charles answered softly. “She’s had to endure unimaginable pain. Not just from the mutations, but from the emotional and psychological torment. One of her powers allows her to absorb the pain and injuries of others, healing them at her own expense. But it’s more than that. It’s not just physical. She absorbs their emotional damage too. She’s a living conduit for others’ suffering.”

Ororo closed her eyes for a moment, her voice thick with empathy. “No one should have to endure that. We have to help her.”

Scott nodded. “She’s a mutant, and she’s in danger. That makes it our responsibility to get her out of there.” 

Logan leaned forward in his chair, his face twisting into a scowl. “Hold on a second.” His voice was rough, laced with irritation. “You’ve read her file, Chuck. You know what she’s capable of. That kind of power? You really think it’s a good idea to bring her here? She’s a damn walking nuke. You touch her, and she’s in your head, messing with your emotions, maybe worse. That’s if she doesn’t blast you halfway across the room with her force repulsion or whatever the hell it is.”

Jean glanced at Logan, her brow creasing with concern. “She’s been through hell, Logan. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I get that,” Logan shot back, his voice sharp, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dangerous. You saw what happened in the last raid when we tried to bring in that mutant with the volatile powers. He almost brought the whole damn building down.”

“Eva isn’t a threat by choice,” Charles interjected, his tone steady, though there was a quiet firmness to it. “She’s been conditioned, pushed to her limits. The trauma she’s endured has caused her to lose control. But she is not beyond saving.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “That’s the thing, though, ain’t it? Control. She’s got none. We storm that lab, and she could go off on us just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and you know it. You’re askin’ us to walk into a situation where we don’t know if we’ll be able to handle her if she flips out.”

“Her powers make her volatile, yes,” Hank spoke up, his deep, thoughtful voice cutting through the tension. “But we’ve faced dangerous powers before. If we don’t act, she will continue to suffer. And from the looks of this lab, it’s only a matter of time before they push her to the breaking point. We have to try.”

“Try?” Logan scoffed. “What if trying gets us killed? Or worse—what if she turns into something none of us can handle?” 

Scott, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Logan. “We know the risks. But that doesn’t change our mission. We don’t abandon our own, especially not someone who’s been tortured like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time we should think about it,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not one of us. Not yet. We don’t even know who she is.” 

“Logan.” Jean’s voice was soft but firm, a note of understanding in it. “You know better than anyone what it’s like to be taken and turned into something against your will.” 

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and for a moment, Logan’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched into fists, his claws threatening to extend. He hated being reminded of what had been done to him—of the experiments, the torture, the mind games that had turned him into a weapon. He’d spent years fighting to control the rage, to stop himself from becoming the monster they tried to make him. 

But this girl… she was different. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t hardened by battle, wasn’t tempered by a lifetime of violence. She was a raw nerve, and in Logan’s mind, that made her more dangerous than any enemy they’d faced.

“She’s not ready for this world,” Logan said, his voice lower now, but no less intense. “She’s not ready for what happens if she loses it. And we sure as hell ain’t ready for her.” 

Charles met Logan’s gaze evenly, unflinching. “I understand your hesitation, Logan. Truly. But this girl needs us. She’s been used and discarded, treated as nothing more than an experiment. If we don’t intervene, she’ll die in that lab. And if we leave her there, she may very well become the very thing you fear—a weapon. But if we bring her here, if we can reach her, she has a chance at something more. A chance to be more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

Logan grunted, looking away. He could feel the weight of the room’s eyes on him, but it didn’t change the knot of unease twisting in his gut. He didn’t trust this situation. Something about it felt wrong, and his instincts were screaming at him to walk away.

But the problem was, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to turn his back, he couldn’t ignore the part of him that remembered what it was like to be the one trapped, the one without control.

Finally, after a long pause, Logan let out a rough sigh. “Fine. We go in, we get her out. But don’t expect me to play nice if she goes feral.”

Charles nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Logan. We’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

Logan stood up from his chair, cracking his neck as he moved toward the door. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t end up regrettin’ this.”

As Logan stalked out of the room, Ororo exchanged a glance with Scott, who sighed softly. “He’ll come around,” Scott said, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“He always does,” Jean murmured, watching the door where Logan had disappeared. “Eventually.”

Charles sat back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the image of Eva on the screen once again. Her small, frail figure was a stark contrast to the power that resided within her.

“She will need time,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “But I believe in her potential. She is more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

And with that, the plan was set. They were going to get Eva out of that lab. Whether or not she could ever be truly free from what had been done to her, though, was another question entirely.

*** 

They needed to act quickly. No one was here for now, but they didn’t when they would be back.

The sharp scent of antiseptic and cold metal filled the underground lab, the walls lined with sterile, reflective surfaces that amplified the clinical horror of the place. Logan led the way. His claws twitched within his knuckles, ready to spring at any moment. Behind him, Storm, Jean and Cyclops moved in silence, their eyes scanning the corridor for any threats. They had heard rumors of this lab—where scientists experimented on mutants—but nothing had prepared them for the twisted reality.

Then Logan's senses sharpened.

"She's close," he growled, his voice barely a whisper, yet thick with urgency.

The lab was dimly lit, sterile, and cold. The sharp scent of chemicals hung in the air, mixed with something darker—something that stank of pain and fear. The X-Men moved quietly, their boots silent against the sleek metal floors. 

“Chuck better be damn sure about this one,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tight. “I ain’t buyin’ this ‘save the girl’ crap.”

Jean turned her head slightly, giving Logan a sharp look. “You know she didn’t choose this, Logan. She’s a victim.”

“Yeah? You tellin’ me she’s not dangerous?” Logan’s voice was a low growl, tinged with irritation. “Because I’ve seen plenty of ‘victims’ go off and take half a town with ‘em.”

“She’s a kid,” Storm cut in, her voice firm but calm. “She’s been tortured. She needs help.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his claws itching to come out. This whole mission felt wrong to him. Saving people? Fine. But saving a mutant who could, at any second, go berserk and tear them all apart? Not so fine.

“You’re all thinkin’ with your hearts,” he muttered, his tone harsh. “And that’s a good way to get us all killed. Just sayin’.”

Cyclops shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “We’re here to help her, Logan. If you can’t handle that, maybe you should’ve stayed at the mansion.”

Logan sneered, his lip curling. “Maybe I shoulda.”

But he didn’t. Despite every instinct telling him to turn around and walk away, he came along. Part of him didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way Charles had looked at him, that quiet conviction in his voice when he said, “She needs us, Logan.”

Logan had heard those words before. He’d been the one who needed saving once. And yeah, he’d been dangerous too. But it didn’t mean he had to like this mission—or trust this girl.

They rounded a corner and found a room that reeked of fear. Through a cracked glass wall, Logan saw her—huddled in the corner, shackled to a metal chair. Her appearance was fragile, like a broken bird too wounded to fly. Tangled hair fell over her face, and her body seemed emaciated, but the air around her pulsed with something dangerous. 

Logan’s stomach tightened as he looked at her. She was small, fragile-looking, her eyes hollow, like she hadn’t seen anything good in a long time. But that wasn’t what set him on edge. No, it was the raw power he could feel rolling off her in waves, even though the thick glass. She was a bomb. One wrong move, and she’d go off.

“Let’s get her out of there,” Cyclops said, moving toward the controls.

Logan bristled, stepping forward. “Wait. What’s the plan here, huh? We just let her loose, hope she’s all sunshine and rainbows?”

 “Logan,” Jean said, her voice steady, “we can calm her down. She’s scared. She’s not going to hurt us.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the last guy who thought he had a handle on a mutant with no control.” Logan’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowed. “That guy ended up in pieces.”

Cyclops sighed, clearly losing patience. “Logan, we didn’t come here to debate this. We came here to get her out. Stand aside.”

Logan didn’t move, his eyes locked on the girl. Something in his gut twisted, but he shoved it aside. “Fine,” he muttered. “But when this goes sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

The glass door slid open with a low hiss, and for a moment, nothing happened. Eva didn’t move, didn’t even look up. She was still, like an animal caught in a trap, waiting for something worse to happen.

Jean stepped forward, her voice gentle. “Eva? We’re here to help you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Logan snorted under his breath. Safe. Yeah, right.

Storm moved forward. "We’re here to help," she said gently, trying to project calm through her voice. Her hand moved to the console, disengaging the restraints that held the girl. The moment the locks clicked open, the girl lifted her head.

At first, Eva didn’t respond. But then her eyes flicked up, and Logan saw it—the fear, the confusion. And beneath it, a barely contained surge of raw, unchecked power..

Before anyone could say a word, Eva’s body tensed, and Logan’s instincts screamed at him. Something snapped inside her, a ripple of energy that exploded outward.

“Shit!” Logan barely had time to react before the force hit him, slamming into his chest like a freight train and sending him flying back into the wall with a grunt. The others were thrown back as well, but Jean managed to hold up a telekinetic shield just in time to soften the blow.

Logan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him. His head spun as he pushed himself up, his vision blurry for a moment. “Goddamn it,” he snarled.

Cyclops struggled to his feet, his visor sparking. “Jean, calm her down, now!”

“I’m trying!” Jean said, her voice strained as she reached out mentally, but Eva’s panic was overwhelming. The raw emotions she absorbed from the team—fear, frustration, Logan’s anger—were feeding her powers, making them spiral out of control.

Logan gritted his teeth, claws snapping out instinctively. His healing factor allowed him to push through the pain, but it didn’t stop the girl’s attack. The forcefield around her shimmered, pulsating with her terror. She backed into a corner, eyes wide with an animalistic rage, and her breathing was ragged, panicked.

Logan got back on his feet, his body aching from the impact, but he was pissed now. “This is what I’m talkin’ about!” he growled, stalking forward, his claws gleaming. “You can’t control her!” 

Eva’s eyes darted wildly, her chest heaving as waves of energy pulsed off her, distorting the air around her. Her hands trembled, her face twisted in terror. She was completely out of control, her powers lashing out blindly.

"Stay back!" she screamed. "I don’t—don’t come near me!"

Logan pushed himself up, panting. "We’re not here to hurt ya, kid," he said, voice gruff but calmer than before, trying to anchor her in the chaos of her mind. But her eyes had already glazed over—she was lost to the overwhelming storm inside her.

“Eva!” Jean called, her voice soothing but desperate. “Please, you need to stop!” 

But it was no use. Eva couldn’t hear her over the roar of her own panic. 

Logan moved in, fast and low, dodging another pulse of energy that nearly sent him sprawling. His patience was shot, his temper flaring hot. He’d warned them. He’d told them this was a bad idea. And now this girl was about to bring the whole lab down on top of them. 

“Enough of this!” Logan snarled, charging at her with his claws raised. 

Eva’s eyes snapped to him, her panic morphing into raw fear, and without thinking, she thrust her hands out. A blast of energy hit Logan square in the chest, sending him flying back again, slamming into a steel pillar with a bone-rattling crash.

“Dammit!” Logan spat, coughing as he got back to his feet, his ribs screaming in protest. His vision blurred for a second, rage bubbling inside him. “I told you!” he shouted at Cyclops, who was trying to keep his balance. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Eva staggered back, her body trembling violently. She looked at Logan with wide, terrified eyes, realizing what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She didn’t want to hurt him. But the damage was done.

Logan’s gaze locked on hers, filled with fury and mistrust. “You’re gonna kill us all, kid,” he growled, his voice rough, dripping with venom.

“Logan, stop!” Jean shouted, stepping between them. “You’re making it worse!”

“Worse? You think it can get worse than this?” Logan barked, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s a loose cannon, and you’re all actin’ like she’s some poor helpless kid. She’s not! She’s a damn weapon!” 

Eva’s breath hitched, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn’t a weapon. She wasn’t a monster. But that’s all they saw, wasn’t it? That’s all she’d ever be to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Yeah?” Logan’s voice was sharp, cutting into her like a knife. “Well, you did.” 

Before Eva could respond, Storm stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “Logan, enough.” 

Logan’s scowl deepened, but he backed off, his claws retracting with a sharp snikt. He shot an angry glare at Eva, his eyes filled with mistrust. “If you can’t control yourself, you don’t belong out here.” 

Eva’s heart clenched, her body trembling as she took a step back. The pain in Logan’s words cut deeper than any wound. She didn’t want to be this way. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But all she ever seemed to do was cause more pain.

A tidal wave of agony and fear threatened to consume her. Haunting recollections of torment, of relentless experimentation, surged through the maze of her mind. The harsh utterances of the man had become a ceaseless refrain since her arrival here. She was reduced to nothing more than an implement of warfare, forged for the benefit of others. Her emotions, her own inner turmoil, were inconsequential. She was bereft of care or compassion. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, a dam of pent-up emotion threatening to break. The potency of his words was such that it cleaved her to the quick, opening fresh wounds and exposing deeply buried insecurities in her already scarred heart. He needed to grasp the truth, he needed to comprehend the reality of her existence: she was no monster.  

Her presence here was not a matter of choice, but rather of necessity.

Without warning, she lunged at him. Her hand made contact with his arm, and suddenly, a flood of raw emotions poured into him. Fear. Pain. Desperation. The weight of all the suffering she had endured hit Logan like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled as her powers synced with his, letting him feel what she felt.  

The room distorted around him—her memories blurring into his thoughts. Logan saw flashes: needles piercing her skin, the cold, merciless faces of scientists, the endless nights spent in isolation. Every ounce of agony and torture she’d endured slammed into him, nearly buckling his knees. 

"Get out of my head!" Logan snarled, shaking her off. But it was too late—her power had taken hold, binding their emotions together like a knot. 

"Logan!" Cyclops shouted, firing a quick burst from his optic blast. The force knocked her back, but only momentarily. The girl screamed again, and this time her forcefield flared with blinding intensity, hurling them all across the room. 

Storm shot into the air, lightning crackling around her as she tried to contain the energy swirling around the girl. "We have to neutralize her, Logan—she can’t control it!" 

"I know!" he barked, struggling to regain his balance as another pulse of energy sent a chair crashing into the wall. His claws slid back into place. He could see it in the girl’s eyes—she wasn’t attacking them out of malice. It was terror. Pure, unbridled terror. But it didn’t matter. Right now, she was a threat. 

Logan moved toward her again, determined this time. "Listen, kid," he growled, "I know what they did to you. But we’re not them. You’ve gotta stop—" 

She didn’t. Her hand shot up, and suddenly Logan was on the floor, his ribs burning as her force slammed him again. But this time, before she could do more damage, a blinding streak of light shot through the air. Cyclops’ blast hit her square in the chest, knocking her unconscious. Her body crumpled, and the forcefield flickered out. 

The room fell silent. 

Logan dragged himself to his feet, clutching his side. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath, shaking the lingering disorientation from his head. 

Storm knelt beside the unconscious girl, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "She's just a kid, Logan," she whispered.

"Doesn't change what she can do," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Cyclops approached cautiously, his visor still glowing faintly. "We need to get her back to the mansion. Charles might be able to help her... stabilize."

Logan glanced at the girl’s fragile form, her face calm in sleep but haunted by the shadows of what she had been through. Something in him twisted. She was broken, just like him—but there was something more dangerous about her. Something darker.  

"Maybe," Logan grunted. But his eyes lingered on her longer than he intended. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much they tried to help her, she was a ticking time bomb. And no one—not Charles, not the X-Men, not even himself—would be able to stop her if she went off again. 

Cyclops looked at Logan, as though sensing his unease. "You think we’re making a mistake?"

Logan snorted. "I don’t trust her." His gaze remained hard, unyielding. "And I don’t think she trusts us either." 

They gathered the girl carefully, carrying her out of the lab. But as they left the cold steel behind, Logan couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion in his gut. Something about her still clawed at his instincts. 

And Logan always trusted his instincts.

***

The X-Men team arrived back at the school in the early hours of the morning. The sky was still dark, the stars barely visible against the approaching dawn. The mansion loomed ahead, its windows softly illuminated by the interior lights.

Eva, awake already and restrained by the power-dampening cuffs, was guided through the front entrance. Her eyes were downcast, her steps slow and hesitant. She hasn’t talked much on their way back and no one was really in a talkative mood either. The only interaction Eva had was with Logan’s constant stare. 

The team moved with purpose but with an underlying tension. Logan walked alongside her, his jaw set and his eyes wary. 

As they reached the foyer, Charles Xavier awaited them in his wheelchair, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. He had been up all night, preparing for this moment. He wheeled forward to meet them, his gaze settling on Eva with a gentle, reassuring look.

“Welcome back,” Charles said softly, his voice warm. “I’m glad to see you’re all safe.” 

Logan, his eyes still fixed on Eva, grunted. “We got her here, but I’m telling you, this one’s a liability. Her powers are way out of control.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving Eva. “I understand your concerns, Logan. Eva, we’ll be taking you to the hospital wing for now. It’s important that we manage your powers and ensure everyone’s safety while we figure things out.”

Eva met Charles’s gaze briefly, her fear evident, but his kind eyes offered a small measure of comfort. She followed him and the team down the hall, her movements slow and cautious. 

As they approached the hospital wing, Charles turned to Logan, his expression thoughtful. “Logan, I know you’re worried. Her abilities are indeed formidable, and it’s natural to be concerned.” 

Logan’s brows furrowed, his frustration palpable. “Formidable? The girl almost killed me. She’s a risk, Charles. We don’t know what she’s capable of if she loses control again.” 

Charles placed a calming hand on Logan’s arm. “I understand. But she’s also a person who’s been through unimaginable suffering. We need to balance our caution with compassion. She’s scared and alone, and that’s why we need to approach this with care.” 

Logan shrugged off Charles’s hand, his gaze still dark. “Careful or not, we’re walking a tightrope here. One slip and we could all be in trouble.” 

Charles’s tone was firm yet soothing. “Yes, we are walking a tightrope. But remember, we have the means to help her, and we must give her a chance to prove that she can find control. We’ve faced dangers before, and we’ve come through. We will handle this situation with the same resolve.” 

Logan sighed heavily, his eyes narrowing. “Just keep her in check. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” 

“I will,” Charles said softly. “And we’ll do everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen. But we also need to give Eva a chance to find her place here, just as we all had our own moments of struggle.” 

Logan’s gaze flickered to Eva, who was now being gently guided into the hospital wing by the staff. He didn’t say anything more, but the hardness in his eyes softened slightly.

Charles watched Eva as she was led to a bed, his concern evident. He turned back to Logan, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Thank you for your vigilance, Logan. It’s what makes you a valuable member of this team. And it’s what will help us find the best path forward for Eva.” 

Logan nodded curtly, his expression still tense. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you’re right.” 

Charles watched him leave with a thoughtful look. He knew that Logan’s fears were not unfounded, but he also believed in the power of empathy and understanding. For now, his focus was on Eva, ensuring that she felt safe and supported as she began this new chapter in her life. 

As the door to the hospital wing closed behind him, Charles took a deep breath, preparing to meet the challenges ahead with the same determination and compassion he hoped to instill in everyone around him.

***

Logan stood at the threshold of the med bay, his silhouette casting a long shadow on the floor. The hum of machines monitoring Eva’s vitals filled the quiet, sterile air. She lay in one of the beds, hooked up to a dozen wires, her frail body looking even smaller against the white sheets. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her face pale and sunken, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked fragile—broken, even—but Logan knew better than to trust appearances.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles white, his nails biting into his palms. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, bubbling up through his veins like molten steel, but it wasn’t the familiar kind of anger. It wasn’t the kind that came from a fight or from someone he hated. It was… different, raw and twisted, like a splinter lodged deep in his gut that he couldn’t pull out. 

Logan took a step forward, his boots heavy against the cold floor. His eyes never left the girl, even though something inside him told him to turn away, to leave. But he couldn’t. He had to face it—face her. 

“Why the hell am I still here?” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn’t know why, but something kept pulling him back. Maybe it was that look in her eyes when she’d blasted him across the lab, that raw fear and regret that hit him like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—not really. But that didn’t change what she could do. 

*She’s dangerous,* Logan thought, his teeth grinding together. *Too dangerous.* 

The med bay door slid open with a soft hiss behind him, and Jean stepped in quietly. She glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, then back to Eva. 

“She’s stabilized.” Jean said softly, her voice careful, as if she knew how close Logan was to snapping. “Her body’s been through a lot, but she’ll recover. Physically, at least.”

“Physically, huh?” Logan’s voice was low, a harsh rasp that betrayed the turmoil inside him. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Jean sighed, stepping closer to him, her gaze flicking between him and the girl. “I know you’re angry, Logan.”

“Angry?!” He barked out a bitter laugh. “Hell, Jean, I’m beyond that.” His eyes locked onto Eva, who lay still and silent, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “She almost tore me apart. If I didn’t have my healin’, I’d be lyin’ in pieces right now. And it ain’t just me. She’s got enough power in her to wipe out this whole school if she loses it again.” 

Jean’s voice softened, but there was a firmness underneath it. “She didn’t mean to hurt you, Logan. She was scared. She still is.”

“I don’t care what she meant to do,” Logan growled, taking a step closer to Eva’s bed, his fists clenched. “What matters is what she can do. She’s outta control, Jean. And you’re tellin’ me you’re okay with keepin’ her here? Around the kids? You really want to risk that?” 

Jean didn’t respond right away, her eyes lingering on Eva’s small, fragile form. “She’s still young, Logan. A young girl who’s been tortured, experimented on. She didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“And what happens when she can’t keep it together?” Logan shot back, his voice harsh, laced with anger. “What happens when she lashes out again? You think the kids are safe with her around?” 

Jean’s silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her voice gentle but firm. “Logan, I know you’re worried. We all are. But we can’t just give up on her.” 

Logan’s face twisted, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even Jean flinch slightly. “Maybe we should,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous. 

The words felt like poison on his tongue, but part of him believed them. He didn’t want to hate her—hell, he didn’t even know why he did—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping her here was a mistake. A big one. It wasn’t just about what she’d done to him in that lab, or even what she was capable of. It was the feeling that clung to his skin like sweat whenever he looked at her—the feeling that she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. 

“Look, I get it, Jean,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, though still rough. “She’s a victim. But you can’t tell me that doesn’t make her more dangerous, not less. All that power, all that hurt… It’s a bad mix. She’s too damn powerful, and she’s got no control over it.” 

Jean opened her mouth to respond, but Logan cut her off. “You don’t get it,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “I can feel it. She’s unstable. You saw what she did without even tryin’. That’s the problem, Jean. She ain’t tryin’, and she still almost killed me. You really think it’ll be any different next time?” 

Jean’s eyes softened, but Logan could see the conflict in them. “She’s not beyond help. Charles thinks—” 

“Charles is a damn optimist,” Logan spat, shaking his head. “And maybe he’s wrong this time.” 

The room fell silent after that, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Jean didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either. She just stood there, her hands folded in front of her, looking at Logan like she was waiting for something—waiting for him to let go of the anger that twisted his face into something hard and unrecognizable. 

But he couldn’t. 

Logan’s eyes drifted back to Eva, lying there so still, so helpless. His gut twisted again, that strange mix of guilt and fury gnawing at him. He hated her. He hated the situation. And he hated himself for feeling this way. But every time he tried to shake it, tried to tell himself she was just another lost kid who needed help, all he could see was the blast of power that had sent him flying, the fear and confusion in her eyes as she lost control. 

*Too dangerous,* he thought again, clenching his fists. 

His mind raced. He couldn’t figure out why his anger was so fierce, why his hatred for this girl seemed so personal. Maybe it was because he’d been there—maybe not the same way, but close enough. Maybe it was because her powers were so raw, so unchecked, like his claws before he learned how to control them. Or maybe it was because he saw a reflection of himself in her—what he could have been, what he was still afraid he could become. 

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change how he felt. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t hurt someone again, someone who wasn’t as tough to bounce back as he was. 

“She’s too powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jean. “She doesn’t belong here.” 

Jean took a step closer, her hand resting gently on his arm. “She’s scared, Logan. Just like you were once.” 

He jerked his arm away, glaring at her. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. This is about her. She’s dangerous, and you know it.” 

Jean didn’t flinch, though her voice softened. “And so were you, Logan. But we didn’t give up on you. And I won’t give up on her.” 

Logan let out a rough sigh, turning away from her, his eyes fixed on the door now. He couldn’t stand being in that room any longer. Not with her lying there, not with all the anger boiling up inside him. His heart felt too heavy, weighed down by everything he didn’t want to feel. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Jean,” he muttered as he moved toward the door, his voice hard again, “you’re makin’ a mistake. And when it all goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

With that, he stormed out of the med bay, the door hissing shut behind him. But the knot of anger and guilt stayed with him, gnawing at his insides, refusing to let him go.

 ***

Eva's eyelids fluttered open to the soft hum of medical machinery and the muted light of early morning filtering through the blinds. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside. She blinked groggily, her mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous day.

The room was sterile and clinical, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh lab she’d known. Her wrists felt heavy, the power-dampening cuffs still securely fastened. As she shifted slightly, the soft rustle of the hospital bed linens reminded her of her vulnerable state. She winced, feeling the dull ache of yesterday’s emotional and physical turmoil.

She glanced around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and a small window offered a view of the gardens outside. It was a serene setting, but Eva felt anything but calm. The memories of her violent outburst and the fear in Logan's eyes replayed in her mind like a relentless loop.

Her breath quickened, and the panic spread. She tugged at the restraints, jerking her arms violently as she tried to free herself, but it was useless. The cuffs held firm, and with each tug, the fear inside her grew. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered what had almost happened—what she’d nearly done. 

"I could’ve killed them. I almost killed them." 

Her stomach twisted, and bile rose in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was too dangerous, too unstable, and the more they tried to help her, the more they were at risk. Everyone was in danger because of her. 

Her thoughts spiraled, faster and faster, and for a brief moment, she considered ripping her own wrists raw against the restraints, breaking free just to get as far away as possible. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t even be alive. 

Her body shook as the realization hit her. She didn’t want to live like this anymore. Every breath felt like a burden, every second a threat to those around her. 

"Why didn’t they just let me die?" 

Before she could spiral further, the door to the hospital wing hissed open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the sterile room. She stiffened, her eyes darting toward the figure who entered. 

It was him. Logan. 

He crossed the room with that familiar roughness, his boots heavy on the tile floor. His face was hard, expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the simmering anger in his eyes told her all she needed to know. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t trust her. And she couldn’t blame him. 

Logan stopped at the foot of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her. "You awake, then?" His voice was gruff, biting, as if the mere sight of her irritated him. 

Eva didn’t respond at first, her eyes still wide with fear. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, the weight of the handcuffs pressing into her skin. Her throat tightened, but she managed to whisper, “Why… why am I still here?” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling slightly. "Good question. I’ve been askin’ myself the same thing." 

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over, but she swallowed them down. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

Logan’s eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. “That’s the problem, kid. You didn’t mean to, but you did. Almost tore me apart, nearly killed everyone in that damn lab. Hell, if you’d gone all the way, this whole place could’ve been rubble by now.” His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with the frustration he was barely holding back.  

Eva’s chest tightened, guilt flooding her system. “I don’t know how to control it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it." 

Logan’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, his eyes grew colder, harder. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t control it. So why the hell should we trust you? Why should we risk the kids, the people in this school, just because you’re scared?” 

Tears finally spilled over, and Eva shook her head, feeling the weight of his words crush her. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be alive!” Her voice was desperate, her entire body trembling. “You’re right, okay? I’m a danger to everyone, and I know it. You should’ve let me die.” 

Logan’s face twitched, just for a second, and something flashed in his eyes—something almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same hard, cold mask. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe we should’ve.” 

His words hit her like a slap, and Eva turned her head away, unable to look at him anymore. Her chest heaved with sobs, the weight of everything pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Just then, the door to the med bay slid open again, and Charles Xavier entered, his wheelchair moving silently across the floor. The tension in the room shifted, and Logan stepped back slightly, though his posture remained rigid.

Charles’s voice was soft, calming, as he approached the bed. “Eva,” he said gently, his eyes kind as he looked at her. “You’re safe now.” 

“Safe?” Eva’s voice was bitter, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “How can you say that? I almost killed him.” She nodded toward Logan. “I could’ve killed all of you. I’m not safe. Not for you, not for anyone.” 

Charles’s expression remained calm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. “We understand that you’ve been through unimaginable pain. But you’re not beyond help, Eva. We can work with you, teach you how to control your powers. You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

But Eva shook her head violently, panic rising in her throat. “You don’t understand. They’re going to come for me. The people who did this to me, they’ll come back. And if I’m here, they’ll destroy everything in their way. You’ll all be in danger because of me. I—” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, trembling. “Please… please just kill me. End it. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” 

Logan’s jaw clenched at her words, his anger bubbling up again. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her how selfish it was to think death was the answer, how ridiculous she sounded. But instead, he stood there, watching her break down, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something else. Pity, maybe. Regret. He hated it, but it was there. Deep down.

For a moment, he saw himself in her—the same lost, broken thing, unsure of his place in the world. And it twisted something inside him.

Charles leaned forward, his tone soft but firm. “We don’t give up on anyone, Eva. You have a home here, if you choose to stay. We will help you, as long as you let us.” 

Eva shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “I’m too dangerous. You’re making a mistake.” 

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping forward. “Maybe we are,” he growled, his voice cutting through the air. “But that’s not your call to make. You wanna give up? Fine. But Charles is right—we don’t give up on people here. So you’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

His words hung in the air, and Eva stared at him through tear-filled eyes. She didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved, but all she felt was the crushing weight of guilt and fear. She wanted to believe they could help her, but deep down, she wasn’t sure anyone could.

And that terrified her most of all. 

Eva’s tears soaked into the hospital pillow, and for a moment, the room was thick with silence. She couldn’t shake the terror clawing at her chest. Charles’s kind words barely registered through the haze of guilt and fear. Every instinct screamed to get away, to run before she hurt someone again. But the restraints around her wrists, humming with the suppression of her powers, kept her pinned to the bed, a prisoner to her own body.

Logan stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression dark. He had always been a difficult person to read, but right now, his anger was crystal clear. He didn’t want her here. He’d made that painfully obvious. Part of her agreed with him. She was too dangerous. Even if Charles promised help, what could they really do? 

She had almost killed them. All of them. Logan, especially, and he wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

Logan broke the silence first, his voice sharp and cutting. "You think just 'cause we say we’ll help, that’s some kinda ticket outta responsibility? That you can just sit back and let us fix you? You’ve gotta want it. And I don’t think you do, kid."

Eva flinched at his words, her face contorting in pain. His anger wasn’t just justified—it was expected—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. She turned her head away, unable to look at him.

"I don’t want anything," she whispered. "I just want to disappear."

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clearly boiling over. He took a step closer to the bed, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through hell? You think you’re special ’cause they did some experiments on you? Join the damn club." He jabbed his thumb at his own chest, his scowl deepening. "I’ve been there. I’ve done all that, and guess what? I didn’t get a choice. So don’t you stand there askin’ us to give up on you just ‘cause you’re scared."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and Eva’s tears flowed harder. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been through hell, yes, but she didn’t have his strength. She couldn’t fight it the way he had. Her powers were out of control, and she was too weak, too broken to even try.

“I can’t control it,” she choked, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it. You don’t understand. They built me to be a weapon. I’m a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, I’ll explode again.”

Logan clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the words hit him. He hated how familiar it all sounded, hated how much of his own past he could hear in her voice. But he couldn’t let that soften him, not when the stakes were this high. Not when she could destroy everything they’d built here, everything they protected.

 “I get it, alright?” Logan growled. “You’re scared, and yeah, maybe you’ve been turned into a weapon, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up. You’re here now, and if you’re gonna stay, you better start fightin’ for somethin’ other than your damn self-pity.”

Eva trembled, her wrists pulling at the restraints as if she could somehow claw her way out of this nightmare. “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be anywhere. I should’ve died in that lab. It would’ve been better for everyone.”

Logan’s face tightened, a growl building in his throat. His anger, which had been simmering on the surface, was threatening to break loose. But before he could unleash another biting remark, Charles raised a hand, his voice calm but firm.

"Logan," Charles said gently, his gaze shifting from the girl to the man, “perhaps we should ease up.” 

Logan shot Charles a sharp look, but there was something in the Professor’s eyes that made him pause, though the tension in his body remained. He backed off a step, arms still crossed, but the scowl stayed firmly in place. His anger wasn’t gone—it was just barely contained. 

Charles turned his attention back to Eva, his voice soft and steady, the same calm she’d heard from him before. But this time, it pierced through her haze of fear just a little. 

"Eva," he began, "I understand why you’re afraid. I can’t pretend to know the extent of your pain, but I do know this: you are not alone. You are not the first person to feel like their powers are too much to bear, and you won’t be the last. This place, this school, is for people just like you." 

Eva shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get it. It’s not just me. The people who did this—they’ll come back for me. They’ll come for all of you. You’ll be in danger because of me.”

Charles’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ve faced threats before, Eva. But we believe in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. No one here will abandon you, no matter how great the risk.” 

“Maybe you should,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Maybe it’d be better if you did.” 

Logan scoffed from the corner, his patience thinning. "Maybe she’s got a point. You’re gambling a lot on someone who’s not even sure she wants to be saved, Charles. She could bring this whole place down." 

Eva flinched again at his words, her heart aching with the weight of them. He was right. What was the point of trying to help her if she didn’t even know if she could be helped?

But Charles, as always, remained resolute. 

“I know the risks,” Charles said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “But I also know that we must give her a chance. Eva, if you stay here, we will do everything in our power to help you gain control. You can have a life, a real life, outside of the torment they put you through.” 

Eva swallowed hard, her chest tight. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to, but the fear was too overwhelming. What if she couldn’t control it? What if Logan was right, and she was just too dangerous to be here? 

She shook her head, the tears never stopping. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s even possible.” 

Charles leaned closer, his eyes filled with the kind of kindness she hadn’t seen in a long time. “We will help you find out. But first, you must give yourself that chance.” 

Eva’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the Professor, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was offering her a lifeline, but could she trust herself to take it? 

Her eyes drifted to Logan, still standing with his arms crossed, his face hard. He looked at her like she was a threat, like she didn’t belong here. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe he was right.

But part of her wanted to fight. Just a small part, buried beneath all the pain and fear, but it was there, flickering weakly.

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

Charles smiled gently. “You start by staying. By trusting us.” 

Logan scoffed again but said nothing, though his eyes bore into her, still filled with distrust. But for a fleeting second, something flickered in his gaze. Maybe it was pity, or maybe just the faintest trace of understanding. Either way, it didn’t last long, quickly replaced by the cold mask of doubt. 

Eva closed her eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know if she could trust them—or herself. But for the first time in a long time, she had a choice. She could choose to run. Or she could choose to stay and try. 

It was the scariest choice she’d ever faced.

[hangesdarling]

the two of us — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You are the Female titan under Dr. Zoë's experiments, could it be that your relationship is growing to something more? CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, mentions of squirting, oral sex, some light angst, Erwin stirring conflict WORD COUNT. 2.3k A/N. this is part 2 of captive as requested by @coconutchan (hope u don't mind me tagging u hehe) (I just noticed that captive is also 2.3k words long lmaooo major coincidence xD)

"You're an extremely unethical scientist, you know that?" you managed to mutter in between the soft moans spilling from your lips, a hand clutching on the couch as Hange continued to spread you open for them. 

"That's a very vague way to say `Hey, Hange thanks for making me squirt four times in less than an hour,ʼ" Hange chuckled, raising their head a little to get a good look at your flushed face. Their breath breezed on your soak folds, their lips digging in to suck your clit once more. 

Your back arched, hips chasing the expanse of their tongue as they kept a firm palm against your inner thigh. They've been in this position for half an hour, head buried between your thighs. What started as a frivolous banter ended up with another intimate session as if you hadn't done it early that morning. 

"You're exaggerating," you argued, trying to ease down how much your legs shook as another wave of orgasm crashed right at your core. Hange smiled to themself, their tongue rolling on your insides to gather up the remnants of your release. When they sat up, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the sight of that perpetual smirk in their face, showing their smugness right after making you come. Hange was too aware of just how good you felt under their touch, their eyes reading at every rise of your chest or every soft moan you managed to slip out.

"I think your soaked skirt could speak for itself, sweetheart," they snickered once more, taking a good look at the mess under you before pulling down the skirt bundled at your waist. "You've been so good today despite your bratty attitude. I like it."

With that remark, you might have been tempted to kick their ass just as you sat up. Not only did they refer to your intimate sessions but also to the information you managed to give them so far. Hange fixed their creased shirt, their other hand leafing through the pages containing what they know about your abilities as a titan shifter. It was difficult to make you talk but Hange managed to pull through by asking the right questions and just enough charm. Hange lightly bit on the edge of their pen, eyes trailing down their list. 

"Hm, I wonder what else?" they thought out loud. Hardening, agility, stamina, speed, endurance... what else? 

"Flexibility," you butted on their train of thoughts, busy smoothing out your clothes with a firm palm. 

Hange glanced at you, eyes crinkling as they smirked, "Oh, I know that already." 

"How observant of you," you scoffed. 

Hange tilted their head, facing you as they spoke. 

"That's true and I know there are things you haven't told me yet."

"Those are things you should be finding out by yourself, Doctor." 

"I like it when you're difficult," Hange laughed, a brief hearty one from their throat. 

"Cause it turns you on?" 

"Oh, don't get me started with that," Hange grinned, flipping through the few pages for the last time. "Anyway, I still have experiments for you tomorrow."

Hange gave a soft pat on your hair, fingers lingering for just a moment before they stood up. 

"Rest for now, alright?"

As they walked out and disappeared behind the door of that lab, you wanted to ask where they would go, a subtle plea to tell you their whereabouts so you could drift off to sleep knowing that they would come back. But as the door shut closed and lights went off, you cursed at your vulnerability, trying to cut away the possible tether linking your heart to theirs. 

Hange is an enemy. Your enemy. 

You shut your eyes, squeezing out the lingering unwelcome thoughts, burying them in a place far away. But even at the edge of sleep, your mind snapped, pulling you out of a hazy scene of dream as the door opened once more. 

Light poured in, a blurring white at the edge spilling at the center table and some lab equipment was strewn at the side. You sat up, grazing over the figure's taller stature entering. Your hand felt for the shiv squeezed on the crevice in the couch, your body in alert stance as you felt that the person approaching wasn't Hange just from the heavier footsteps against the floor. The switch was flicked on, filling the room with light once more. 

Then there he was, the man you were warned about, the devil himself in the flesh: Erwin Smith. If it wasn't for his astute planning as the mastermind of the previous attack, you wouldn't have been on the couch of this lab, experimented by your enemies. 

Erwin greeted you with much politeness, a practiced formality of words carefully crafted for his prey. Your mind skipped over his pleasantries, focusing on the language in his eyes that his words couldn't hide. It was clear, even at the stray threads from his careful weaving that he only sees you as nothing but a weapon to be used later on. Even as he sat across from you with that friendly smile and conversational tone of interest, you couldn't put a sliver of trust in him. 

"To be honest, Dr. Zoë insisted on your stay here, Y/N," he said, a hand indicating the laboratory and your unrestrained hands. "Such a considerate move, bearing in mind that you are a trained soldier." 

He stood up, walking over to the lab equipment as if in inspection. Hange frequently used those tools and equipment but found no time to clean up the dusting wires powering the engine inside.

"Given this unrestraint opportunity, you could have tampered with the equipment without Hange knowing." Erwin ran a finger on the trail of dust before continuing, "But you see? Nothing was touched in here. No sign of infringement."

He looked back at you with a small, knowing smile and ever-perusing eyes. "Why is that, I wonder?"

"I shouldn't say anything that could be used against me, don't you think?" You swallowed the lump in your throat, hard eyes set upon him when truly your heart wanted to bury itself deeper as if doing so would get you off Erwin's perusal.

"Oh, right. Fair enough," he said but only stepped closer from where you sat. "However... I'm starting to think that a seasoned soldier such as yourself is falling for Dr. Zoë's charms."

And even before you could utter a rebuttal, he only stepped closer and continued, "Their charm is their greatest tactic next to their intellect. I would say that even a mindless titan would yield."

Followed by a humorless chuckle, a smile curled on the side of his lip.

"You, Y/N, you've become so obedient to them as far as I can see. Even someone as stubborn as yourself could be coaxed into submission, after all," he said, eyes gazing down at your stature. You felt indignant at how small you were from where he stood. 

Your tongue twisted into a knot, the outbursts you have for him clamped shut and swallowed into an endless pit. The anger bubbling up your chest could only transpire as a hard glare as he moved to open the door once more. 

"Anyway, I'll be taking my leave since I really had no business in here," Erwin waved, taking a step outside. "I'm glad Hange has made the couch cozy for you."

—

Anger. Is that what you should've felt from his words? Anger at his inner sneer, his subtle taunts, or perhaps anger at the truth that you have been so compliant to Hange's wishes. You've become too trusting, yielding with no questions asked to their words and touch. You've doubted their intentions to a certain degree but never acted upon that thought because no matter how much you denied the truth to yourself, Hange has already warmed your heart to let them in. You've fallen to whatever deception they have in mind. 

Your eyes pierced nothingness as you gripped the weapon right in your hands. Your thoughts crawled into your limbs, letting them think for you as the door opened once more. Hange was caught off guard as you pounced into them, knocking them on the floor and your thighs straddling their torso. A gasp escaped their lips as they felt all your weight pressing them down the ground, the shiv you were previously holding pointed perilously at the vein of their neck. Hange couldn't ask what brought them on your grip or even scan your face as your hair fell over your face. However, your tight and almost desperate grip on their collar became enough to subdue the questions flooding their mind. 

"Y/N?" Hange asked, eyes chasing yours for an explanation, an emotion to be understood. 

"You'll have to answer my questions or else," your voice was low and rough, Hange wondered if you'd cried or what had angered you so much to lose that calm voice they're familiar with. 

"I see you've made a shiv. Quite efficient of you. I didn't even notice," Hange remarked, trying to smile and ease themself down. Their palm rested on your thigh upon instinct, but the shiv only brought its tip closer to the flesh of their throat. 

"What do you truly want from me?" you muttered, voice threatening to break.

"Could you elaborate on that?" Hange asked as a slight confusion passed over their eyes. 

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." When you responded, Hange sensed your frustration, drawing a taut line only to be ripped out. 

What do you want from me? Hange thought over your question, their mind ramming one response they couldn't utter. They want to brush the hair off your face, alleviate the distrust forming around your relationship, or just hold your hand if you will let them. Hange threw their head back to the floor, lying on their bundled hair like spilled brown ink. 

"I want what every researcher wants, Y/N," Hange spoke softly. "Results."

"Sure, yes. Results from the experiments. Then retrieve the Female titan from me. That's it? I'm sure you won't stop on that." 

"You know I shouldn't tell you about that, right?" 

"And you know I can kill you right now if I wanted to," you shot back, your glowering eyes boring through them.

"I know, sweetie. You're aiming to puncture a major artery right there by the looks of it." Hange smiled softly in surrender, their other hand lying by their side as the other never left your thigh. Their body was too relaxed under you. Too submitting, too comfortable in knowing that you wouldn't hurt them. It only boiled you up inside, tempted to leave a crude mark on their neck just to make a point.  But you only let go of their collar, the tip of your shiv drawing in an unthreatening stance on their clothed chest. 

"I hate you," you muttered. 

"Listen to me, Y/N." Hange clasped your hand but you only pulled it away from them. 

"Why would you do this?" 

"Do what?" Hange mumbled to themself but retracted almost immediately as they glimpsed your eyes for the first time. It wasn't anger or violence they'd read, but a pure wounded look that pricked their heart. Hange knew you were questioning the motive behind every touch, every kiss, and every pleasure you've shared since that moment they had you. You might have thought yourself a prey, lured into the trap of those lovely brown eyes, of that teasing smile, and of their loving touch. Hange sat up against your softening grip. 

"Listen to me first," they whispered, clasping both of your hands near their chest. "You see, I didn't plan beyond experimenting on you. But I have a vague idea of what I want to do." 

Their eyes did not waver behind those glasses as they spoke. "This may cost me my license or, hell, even my neck. But... I'm not planning to take the Female titan from you."

Their statement came as a surprise, your mind running around the possibilities of what could that mean but found none you could accept to be true. 

"What...?" 

Hange smiled softly. "You know what I mean, Y/N. I want you to join my side."

Betrayal. Betray Eldia. Forget we're enemies and be with me, their words translated themselves on your head, etching a frown on your face. 

"What... What makes you think I'll follow along those plans?"

"I'm not expecting you to," Hange sighed, relaxing on where they sat and no longer restraining your hand gripping the shiv. "Of course, you will never let yourself become a weapon against your own kind. But that's not what I have in mind.

"I know it would be difficult for you to believe me again but I need your trust this time. I don't have a clear vision of what will become of us but know that in the future I envision, it would be just you and me. No war or another bloody clash between Marley and Eldia," Hange sighed, letting go of you as they stood up, eyes locked on yours. "I never planned to kill you the moment you stepped in here, Y/N. Trust me and I'll tell you everything."

Trust. The word played in your mind once more, repeating itself in various tones of inquiry and mockery. Hadn't you become too trusting and reprimanded with a cruel hand right after? The harsh scars and claws on your insides writhed, sending your mind back to your roots to decide for you. You're not just the Female titan or an Eldian soldier, you are Y/N, ingrained with a will and desire of your own. 

"Fine," you muttered, pulling the collection of makeshift weapons you hid on yourself, even a small prized weapon on your ring finger. Your stern, stone-cold eyes met Hange's as you placed the dangerous collection in a neat line on the center table. "I'm trusting you."

You sat back on the couch with transparent intentions this time, the sinister thought of regret shoved at the back of your mind as you spoke. 

"Now tell me everything.” 

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[sexydoffyman]

day 21 - PROSTITUTION

John Price

navigation

genre: smut

mdni

A/N: I'm starting to question why are there people still waiting for this, considering my unannounced 1-week breaks.

Your country was at war. Everyone was panicking, trying to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Companies were crashing, and people started losing their jobs. People were desperate for even a little bit of money.

You knew you couldn't turn a blind eye to the situation when the war broke out. Everyone thought it would be a one-week thing. No one knew how wrong they were. Fortunately, you found a job right after the announcement.

Sure, this job was described as "unethical" or "dirty", but it got the job done. You had a place to live and food to eat. You understood that the job was risky. And sometimes, some dudes really went far beyond your comfort zone. Well... sometimes is an understatement. It got to the point where dudes not breaking the ground rules was a rarity.

Even tho these things happened, sometimes you knew that during an attack, you'd be most likely spared or even protected. No one would want to lose a sex worker in such a situation.

Your customers were mostly military men and cops. Sometimes, you'd even find yourself a drug dealer. Good news has been spread about the British army joining the war and allying with your country. That also meant that the foreigners would be more inclined to pay more.

One day, you met this particular military man. He was always walking around the building as they had received some intel on the enemy soldiers. You met him in a hallway. You wanted to buy a candy bar. You were exhausted after your last customer.

But just as you walked up to the automat you realised you had no money on you. You sat on the floor in front of the automat and groaned in frustration.

Suddenly, you heard some beeps and thuds inside of the automat. You looked up and saw a man staring down at you with a soft smile. He was handing you a candy bar. You recognised him by the hat he always wore. You took it, still kind of disoriented, as he nodded and walked away.

You stood up quickly and yelled out a "Thank you!" He only waved at you as he kept walking down the hall. You kept bumping into him more and more. You always smiled at him, and he smiled back at you. It was a nice, friendly interaction.

As time went on, the stress took a huge toll on him. He was tired, and he wasn't able to focus. And with all of the weight on his shoulders he decided that he would think rationally and slept with someone.

But finding anyone who would be dtf in this horrible time would be hard. So he decided the second best thing he could come up with.

You heard a knock on your door. You got up, taking all of your strength to smile as you opened the door. You really weren't expecting him to show up. He didn't say a word he just handed you a stack of money. It was like three times more than you usually got.

You smiled at him, this time the smile being more genuine. You invited him in and closed the door behind you. He put the money on a small table that was in the room. You went to ask him if he wanted anything specific, but he already picked you up.

He knew what he wanted and felt a little embarrassed that he had to take such measures. He gently put you on the bed and put your legs on his hips. He closed his eyes and kissed you softly. You kissed him back and waited for what was about to come. You knew he was a military man. And from your experience, it was the military men that usually took advantage of you.

You could already feel the bulge in his pants. He pulled your pants off while still kissing you. He then took his own. He didn't waste a second and slipped into you. You were surprised by the stretch. He was huge, and he was aware of it. He didn't want to hurt such a sweet thing.

He pushed in gently and started to move his hips. You usually hated the sex, but this time it was different. He was sensual. It felt almost loving. You whined a bit. He felt the stress wash off him as he listened to your sounds.

He didn't have to be rough to make you go crazy. He caressed your cheeks and peppered you with kisses. He felt himself get close. He got a little more talkative. "You feel so good, sweetheart." "Just like that, darling." The nicknames he gave you made you shiver. You felt the knot in your stomach snap.

Your back arched as you made a sweet sound. The thought of making you cum made Price feel things he couldn't describe. He pulled out and finished into his hand. You laid on your back as he put you down gently. He took a tissue and cleaned his hand with it.

He didn't understand how much of a sweetheart he was to you. He just thought about the time he saw you so exhausted. He put a few extra dollars on the table and left.

You walked up to the table and chuckled, knowing he'd be there for a couple more months and that he couldn't resist you.

You just had to teach him that he's not obliged to pay that much. (He still pays you huge amounts of money.)

[biblioflyer]

Section 31 is responsible for the near destruction of Earth in Picard S3E10.

I had an epiphany the other day while I was out walking: Section 31 fairly reliably has never demonstrably "saved" the Federation on screen that I can recall. On the other hand, literally no good ever seems to come from its obsession with its epistemology that only Section 31 can preserve the Federation's wholesomeness and decency through doing the unethical things your average Starfleet officer cannot and must not do.

In modern espionage, there is a much discussed concept called "blowback." Blowback is a euphemism for the unintended consequences of an action or policy that seemed like a good idea at the time, but has ripple effects that may or may not be foreseeable.

The Fourth (?) Borg attack on Earth and the almost certain many thousands of casualties is an example of blow back. Now in Section 31's defense, the chain of consequences meanders quite a bit and heated arguments over whether this constitutes a black swan or gray rhino are not entirely unjustified.

But the fact remains, that without the assistance of Vadek's rogue Changelings, the Borg Queen clearly did not have the assets to execute her plan to infiltrate Starfleet and set conditions for the assimilation via transporter of Starfleet's junior crew.

Vadek and her Changelings were motivated by vengeance. Vengeance for the torturous experiments they were subjected to by Section 31 and, although its not clearly spelled out, almost certainly the near extinction of the Changeling species by a Section 31 bioweapon. This Vadek would have known about when she rejoined the Great Link, if not before when she and her crew killed the researchers experimenting on them and may or may not have had access to other Section 31 files in the process.

Classic blowback.

I may have misjudged the streaming era of Trek and its handling of Section 31, because while it has normalized it in some ways, that so many problems are caused by Section 31 in this era of Trek does not seem to be an accident. I don't like the normalization as a worldbuilding aspect, but I do appreciate its function as the provocation for cautionary tales.

In universe, Section 31 really needs to be disbanded. As an organization, there is no evidence it has ever actually saved the Federation from any existential threats and it seems to be in the business of reliably creating existential threats. If I had a strip of gold pressed latinum for every time Section 31 was in the chain of causality for a computer virus hive mind taking control of Starfleet vessels and attempting to exterminate organic life, I'd have two strips of gold pressed latinum. Which isn't a lot, but its weird that it happened twice.