#Captain of our Salvation

[wecanbeperfect]

MATTHEW 5:48 Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.

[yaeggravate]

could capitano be anfortas alberich?

it's more likely than you think 👍🏽✨️

arguments in favor of anfortas = capitano:

capitano's potential constellation could be the three nails which is a reference to jesus' crucifixion. i honestly can't picture this constellation belonging to any other harbinger unless sandrone's ruin guard is carrying some heavy bagage.

anfortas is named after the fisher/sinner king from arthurian legend, he is usually portrayed as a jesus-like figure in more modern adaptations, due to his never-ending suffering. he was also stabbed with the holy spear in the same side as jesus during his crucifixion.

in the poem the waste land by t.s. eliot, he associates the fisher king with the tarot card the three staves. in some tarot decks (most notably thoth which is pictured below), the three staves are positioned exactly like the three nails

anfortas' fate is currently unknown, as he is khaenri'ahn it's not unreasonable to assume he could've survived for 500 years

his relative kaeya was conveniently present when varka's letter about capitano was being read in an event about lost family members

according to varka, capitano hides his face so no one can know his identity and origins. anfortas was part of the schwanenritter which is a reference to the swan knight legend, where the knight had to conceal his identity, name and origins

varka says capitano is an ordinary mortal with the courage to go up against gods which is basically khaenri'ah's motto

capitano's helmet has a makeshift 8-pointed star on it which is usually associated with khaenri'ah (tbf 8-pointed stars can also be found in other places, such as the adventurer's guild, the hexenzirkel and now natlan.)

capitano has blue eyes and so far every khaenri'ahn character we've met has blue-ish eyes with the exception of arlecchino who is descended from the crimson moon clan

anfortas and capitano are both commanders: anfortas was the knight marshal of the schwanenritter (and temporarily became regent of khaenri'ah), capitano is thee captain, the highest ranked harbinger

anfortas' personality is unclear so we can't really compare it to capitano's. BUT what we do know is that he temporarily filled in as regent when irmin was unavailable. he also executed his own comrade after they committed treason by sabotaging a machine yet he still gave them a proper knight's funeral. this could allign with the absolute righteousness and honor capitano is known for

capitano is highly praised and respected within the fatui and the same can be said for anfortas who was close enough to the king that he could petition him and whose subordinates believed in him until the end

An Abandoned Letter... I often think lately about how future generations will tell my story. Will I be a sinner? Or a hero... The situation here is dire, but I believe that our Marshal will find a way. I believe...

the author of this letter wondering if they'll be seen as sinners or heroes and believing anfortas will save them fits pretty well with the three nails constellation, a symbol of salvation and redemption

(there's some interesting irony in anfortas' name meaning infirmity (weakness/illness), which is the opposite of capitano being a strong man. capitano's commedia dell'arte counterpart was a braggart who only boasted about his strength.)

capitano is now in natlan. for some reason, kaeya's hidden strife letters are filled with fire imagery. kaeya's dad says the alberich clan "should lead lives as those who blaze like fire rather than those who wallow in the embers", which is reminiscent of the "secret" the pyro archon shares/will share with the traveler according to the travail trailer: "the rules of war are woven in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash."

*update: natlan is right next to one of anfortas' ruin golems and in a new world quest we find out there were two khaenri'ahn knights in natlan who were ordered by someone highly respected to stop the abyss from spreading. based on context clues their superior is likely anfortas. perhaps anfortas also ended up in natlan and something happened to him there

**update: the schwanenritter were most likely part of the black serpent knights, khaenri'ah's royal guard, since one of the schwanenritter used the same model as a black serpent windcutter. isn't it convenient then that capitano is dressed as a black serpent with those black scales and visor in the triangular shape of a snake's head?

arguments against the theory:

anfortas lost his left eye, while capitano is said to have dark blue eyes plural. however, it's unclear if anfortas literally lost his left eye or was merely blinded. he could have also grown back the eye cause idk khaenri'ah genes/abyss goo/bald

three harbingers from khaenri'ah seems a bit overkill. (though you could argue we already have three harbingers from snezhnaya: childe, pulcinella and pantalone.) we don't have any harbingers from natlan (or liyue), and currently capitano seems like the most likely option. however, knowing hyv's colorism, it could be columbina instead. according to the harbinger wheel columbina should be arriving after arlecchino, although we haven't seen her in any of the trailers yet. (all hope for brown-skinned capitano is not lost if he's related to kaeya though!)

since anfortas is the "fisher" king and ended up with one eye, he could be kaeya's "pirate" grandpa or even his dad and i'm not too confident hyv is gonna imply capitano had a lover with kids unless he gets signora'd lol. on the other hand, arthurian anfortas was famously saved by his nephew, which could mean our anfortas is kaeya's uncle.

***update: capitano can use nightsoul which is exclusive to people from natlan. however, the traveler can also use phlogiston (though no word on nightsoul yet) and mavuika senses an "unusual presence" inside cap which could explain his powers

[wastedpotentialsblog]

Bungie: *adds a random named Major Vandal that appears in a single mission and dies there*

Me: OK but what if...

Deniks, the Cruel

"The only Vandal that could dock a Captain."

-The Spider

Former member of the Twisted Claw of the House of Wolves, Deniks evaded capture during the Wolf Hunt and sought refuge among the House of Exile on Luna. There, her short temper and penchant for violence quickly earned her the "Cruel" moniker among the tattered House. Despite her position as a Vandal, she harassed and tormented Captain and Dreg alike, ignoring commands and hoarding resources.

When the Houses folded under Dusk, she remained largely independent and traded intel and resources with both the Eliksni on Luna and Spiders' associates. She quickly answered Eramis' call to Europa and immediately enlisted in House of Salvations military. Earning the respect of Phylaks, she became one of the Warrior's closest lieutenants.

_____

"Yeah, I know her. Rode with one of Skolas' Vandal gangs before cowering unde Exile's banners after his capture. Ruthless and good with a wire rifle. She liked to go for limbs first before delivering the final blow. We traded back and forth until she docked one of my associates during a...disagreement in our relationship."

"Oh? She joined those fools on Europa, did she? Well, tell your Ikora, she's got my blessing to put her in the ground."

I couldn't decide if I wanted her grimoire to be a conversation between a Hidden agent and Spider or one of those generic grimoire biographies. Sooooo have both!

My Eliksni brainrot continues...

[amphibious-thing]

Hi!

I really enjoy your posts about d'Eon; she's so fascinating. I'm definitely not an expert on her, but I'm very interested! One article I read said that, in her unfinished memoirs, she used both male and female pronouns. Is this a) even true, given some of the clearly wrong historical writing you've cited before, and b) if it is true, what do you think about it?

So I don't speak French. D'Eon's unfinished memoirs were originally written in French and I'm working with an English translation. This makes any discussion of gendered language in her memoirs a bit more difficult as there are words that are gendered in French but gender neutral in English and vice versa. Helpfully the translation by Roland A. Champagne, Nina Ekstein and Gary Kates notes when the masculine or feminine form is being used. However I'm still answering this question based on a translation not d'Eon's original words.

D'Eon's memoirs are written in first person so the majority of the pronouns she uses for herself are first person pronouns (I, me, my, mine).

Other characters use either he/him or she/her pronouns for d'Eon but this reflects that characters perspective not d'Eon's personal pronouns. For example in a scene set in Russia the Comte de Vorontsov confronts d'Eon about her double life, using feminine pronouns for Mademoiselle d'Eon and masculine pronouns for Captain d'Eon:

This young lady remarked to Madame Vorontsov and to my niece the Princess Asthoff that she remembers very well that Mademoiselle d'Eon has a small wine-colored birthmark on her left cheek near her ear, that at the convent in Meaux she wore gold-drop earrings, and that if Captain d'Eon has this wine-colored birthmark on his left cheek and that if he has pierced ears, you can be sure that this is the Demoiselle d'Eon whom I knew in the convent. (p20)

D'Eon pretty consistently seems to use feminine language for herself when speaking in the present tense. She uses the words "woman", "girl", "maiden", "daughter", the titles "mademoiselle" and "chevalière" and "she/her" pronouns at points when she slips into third person.

However when talking in the past tense she sometimes describes herself in the masculine. She was a "man" but is now a "woman". She will sometime talk about her past self in third person referring to "him" as her "brother". After Mademoiselle Bertin dresses d'Eon in woman's clothes for the first time d'Eon says to her:

You have killed my brother the dragoon. That leaves me with a heavy heart. (p61)

D'Eon's describes her transition as a death and rebirth. A few weeks before d'Eon was to be presented at the Court of Versailles as a woman she returns home to Tonnerre. Still wearing men's clothes she gets into an argument with her mother who believes she should start wearing women's clothes immediately. But d'Eon is reluctant, avoiding it. At one point in the argument d'Eon tells her mother she must resign herself to "the imminent death of your pitiful dragoon" as "he" only has a few weeks left in men's clothes. Their argument ends with the following passage:

In tears, my mother said to me: "You are still my dear daughter sitting in the darkness and the shadow of death. But you will be reborn, my daughter, without fear or reproach, to live and die peacefully by your mother, who loves and will always cherish you. For your salvation and our mutual happiness, I have long prayed for the misfortune that befalls you." She wiped her tears against my face and returned to her room. I hid my face under the covers in order not to see or hear anything. I was even troubled by my own presence in he darkness of night. (p41)

While d'Eon describes the loss of her "brother" the dragoon as painful she ultimately sees it as something that is necessary and positive:

Mademoiselle d'Eon has only one more step to take to bury her brother the captain of the dragoons with the full honors of War ... Tomorrow without fail I will inform Mademoiselle Bertin of my return to Paris and tell her to bring with her feathered aides-de-camp to deplume me and to sew the dragoon's skin to that of a girl who is worn out from bitter disappointment with her own skin. This girl has the greatest need of her help to be trimmed, readied, and fitted out by her skillful hand in order that I may walk with unworried assurance along the narrow path of virtue, as is befitting a Christian maiden (p56)

The death of the dragoon captain gives life to the Christian maiden:

In my regiment I sought only the rough and tumble. But in my convent I find only remedies and healing. Thus by a natural tendency I find it impossible to reconcile Mademoiselle d'Eon with her brother, the dragoon captain. The brother is imperfect, the sister perfect. How can one reconcile between the imperfect and the perfect? (p72)

Her life as Geneviève d’Eon brings her joy:

At present I am living in profound peace; and my joy is so great that I praise God in three languages so that a greater number of people may partake of the happiness of the angels in this life while awaiting the crown of ordinary martyrs, Nunc Genofeva d'Eon est nomen meum; quam suave et dulce est laetitia mea! [My name is now Geneviève d’Eon; how delightful and how sweet is my joy!] (p87)

However she doesn't always refer to her pre-transition self in the masculine. D'Eon presents herself as a woman who was raised as a boy by her parents: "I had been educated as a boy, and I dressed as one." (p7) She describes her past self as a "foolish girl who was tricked to go along like a foolish ewe." (p3)

One interesting example of d'Eon's use of gendered language is her invention of the word "demoiseau". One of the translators Roland A. Champagne describes it as a "masculine version of demoiselle" and explains "We translated demoiseau as "pretty boy" in order to capture the lexical proximity of demoiseau to damoiseau ("fop")." Champagne concludes that "d'Éon constructed in a neutral gender the demoiseau to live as a masculine woman beyond the codes of the Ancien Regime." (Decoding "The Maiden of Tonnerre": Translating Gender from the Eighteenth Century)

Champagne is correct to say that d'Eon lived as a "masculine woman" but I think he might be making too much of this one word considering the context. The word "demoiseau" comes from the following exchange between d'Eon and Bertin:

Mademoiselle d'Eon. Alas, at court everything is beautiful. To please the court, does a former dragoon captain have to become a pretty boy [demoiseau]? Mademoiselle Bertin. Yes, absolutely, when the so-called "boy" is discovered to be in fact a girl by the systems of justice both in England and in France. (p64)

So I don't think d'Eon necessarily identified as a "demoiseau" but perhaps I'm missing something in translation.

The part I struggle with the most is words that are gender neutral in English but gendered in French. Without being familiar with French it's difficult for me to understand what the use of masculine and feminine forms of words means in context. Take the following passage for example:

Neither my body nor my mind was worn out from studying when my father took(m) me to Paris at the age of thirteen. At that point, I knew only how to read and write, and not well at that. I, however, fell into the hands(f) of my uncle and aunt who made(m) me feel ashamed(m) of my ignorance and who motivated me to study. Furthermore, they alerted and warned me that if I revealed the truth of my sex I would be locked away(f) in a convent forever. (p4)

In "my father took(m) me" took is masculine. Does that mean that d'Eon is masculine, her father is masculine or the act of taking is masculine? What about "made(m) me feel ashamed(m) of my ignorance" is d'Eon masculine or is her shame masculine? If her sex if revealed she will be "locked away(f) in a convent". Why is the word away feminine?

One thing that I particularly found interesting is that the pronoun "me" is sometimes marked as feminine, sometimes masculine, but most often not marked as either. So we have:

The Revolution made me(m) so rich that today I do not have the means to buy ink or paper.

And then just a few paragraphs later:

I would just as soon suffer childbirth as to be doing this painful work of writing, which I have begun because of the destitution to which the Revolution has reduced me(f).

Then a few paragraphs latter:

I am no longer a disciple of this world since my wonderful conversion, which separated me(f) completely from the body of the dragoons and from the sin of my uniform and which finally stripped away the old man in order to make of me a totally new being before Our Lord, in the eyes of men, in front of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting as well as the Daughters of Holy Mary, and in the hopes of the fortune reserved for me in heaven. The knowledge of that fortune has filled me(m) with complete wisdom and spiritual intelligence so that I might bring to fruition every good action and so that I might behave as befits a Christian woman not only before the world but also before the Lord, since during my novitiate I was washed(f), probed(f), tested(f), corrected(f), corroborated(f), strengthened(f), and rooted(f) in every way, which I endured, in complete patience and spiritual tranquility, the Lord having erased my obligations, which consisted of military orders, orders contrary to my spirit, and which He completely abolished and replaced with my new obligation to live and die in the essential purity of my innocent dress, no longer thinking of those things here below but only about those on high. (p136-137)

The switching back and forth between "me(m)" and "me(f)" is interesting but I honestly have no idea what it means.

If I ignore all the little "f"s and "m"s the gendered language seems pretty clear and consistent. D'Eon is a woman who was raised as a boy. She is feminine in the present tense but sometimes masculine in the past tense. But I can't just ignore the fact that I'm reading a translation. That would not be a honest analysis of her memoirs. I'd love if someone who is familiar with French went through her writing and really analysed her use of gendered language. I'm unfortunately restricted by the limits of working with a translation.

[youryurigoddess]

The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

[felassan]

oooh Mx "Templar Captain" sounds sooo mysterious.. either the final boss of the whole game or the one who secretly all along holds the keys to our very salvation in the face of certain doom of All The World OR the one who will tragically betray us.. Mx Templar Captain, are you free on thursday night? I am free on thursday night Mx Templar Captain. already I am daydreaming about a tense and thrilling slowburn epic whirlwind romance with mysterious Mx Templar Captain.. (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 12: Red

Read it on Ao3

- Warriors & Legend

- Summary: Warriors suffers a nightmare

CW for blood and injury, imagined character deaths (nobody really dies), and a vivid nightmare

--------------------------------

He’s seeing red again.

It spreads like a carpet, devouring everything in reach, turning the world the color of a battlefield on fire.

Warriors clenches his hand into a fist. His fingers curl around soft linen sheets. Beside him, Legend shifts with a small sigh, rearranging into a more comfortable position. He fights to hold onto those sounds and sensations, desperately hoping they will drag him out of the dreamworld. But his grip slips. He plummets back into the horrors of his own mind.

It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real

His hands are wet with the gory liquid now and his scarf drenched in it. When he checks for wounds, however, he has none. This blood is not his own.

Of course, it’s not. It never is.

Forms begin to rise from amongst the sea of crimson. Their pupil-less eyes bore into him, seeing all and yet nothing. 

“You did this,” they moan, “you sealed our fates.”

They advance, dragging limbs strung on by muscle and sinew alone. Arrows and swords protrude from their decaying bodies, evidence of a battle lost.

Warriors scrambles to his feet, backing up as they grow closer.  

“Why did you fight, hero? Why not just give yourself up?”

“It was you she wanted. Not us.”

He can’t breathe. His hands are trembling, scattering droplets of blood with every jerky movement. 

“I…I didn’t…I never meant…”  

He swallows past the lump in his throat. He wants to say something, needs to, but what can he? What can he do, what can he say to make this better?

“You never meant what?” A familiar voice queries and he looks up to see Mask glaring at him. He stands at the front of the crowd, small body dwarfed by the monsters surrounding him. Blood runs down his face – from his eyes that skewer Warriors’ with an all-too-familiar sharpness, from his mouth, from the wounds that carve themselves into his ashen skin. The Master Sword protrudes sickeningly from his abdomen and he grips the hilt in a white-knuckled fist. 

“Sprite?” He chokes out the word. 

“Answer me, captain,” Mask says, tone commanding. And suddenly, Warriors is gazing up at Time instead. “What did you not mean to do? To fail? To begin a war and lead countless innocent people to the slaughter?”

He steps forward. The light falls upon his face in just the right way to illuminate the left side. There is no skin there any more. Only bright, white bone. 

Warriors backs up, hand pressed to his mouth. 

A stalfos? How can that be?

He is certain he is going to be sick.

“No,” he gasps through a throat that is too tight. “No, this…this isn’t real.”

“It’s not? Sure seems real to me. And I would know.”

Warriors turns and there is Legend, standing beside Time, a grim smirk on his lips. There is an arrow embedded in his chest. Dark crimson spreads from the spot.

No!

“Guess you’re gonna have to tell Ilia the news after all,” Twilight says. Gashes criss-cross his body in groups of five. They ooze black blood. “It’s a shame though. I still had so much to do…”

Warriors gasps, breathless and dizzy.

It’snotrealit’snotrealit’snotreal

The faceless have faces now. There is Wind with a sword in his chest, here is Four a spear in his eye. Hyrule is there too and Wild and Sky. All pale-faced, all bloody.

All dead.

“You did this,” they cry, in one-hundred different words, one-hundred different ways. “You could’ve stopped this. You could’ve saved us. Why didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” Warriors slides to the ground, heedless of the liquid still swirling at his feet. It soaks into his trousers, drenches his scarf. He doesn’t care. “I’m so sorry.”

Fingers lift his chin. He hadn’t even realized he had allowed his head to droop. 

“Link,” Artemis murmurs. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t want to. He’s terrified to even dare hope he will find salvation in those deep blue orbs. Still, slowly, reluctantly, he does. And chokes on a gasp.

His princess stands before him, looking much the same as when he last saw her. Her eyes are afire with a light that is only her own, her stance tall and strong. But, like the others, she is bloodied. Like the others she is mortally wounded.

This time, however, it is his own sword that pierces her chest.

Tears well in his eyes and begin to stream down his cheeks. “Arty?” 

No. No, not her too. Please, not her too.

She gazes down at him, expression stern. “Look, Link. Look upon the destruction you have wrought.”

They are all around him now – his brothers – those he swore to himself he would never allow to fall. They close in, gazes accusatory. He has no choice but to stare into those eyes that speak of his guilt, that tell the tale of all he has done and failed to do.

“I’m sorry.” It is all he can say.

“An apology remedies nothing,” Time growls and raises the Biggoron sword. Warriors has mere seconds to realize what is about to happen. His eyes widen, mouth falling open to say something, anything that can make this all stop; hands raising in an unconscious effort to shield himself from the blow.

There is a swoosh of rushing wind, a flash of gleaming metal. The sword comes down.

“Captain… Wars! Wake up!”

Warriors shoots upward with strangled gasp. The endless crimson falls away and the inn room slides into focus. He looks wildly around, taking in the plain, cream-colored walls, the small nightstand, the window through which a crescent moon can be seen. 

It wasn’t real.

He buries his head in his hands, dragging in air through too-tight a throat, trembling violently. Bile bites at his tongue and he swallows it back.

“Warriors.”

He drags in a shuddering breath and forces himself to look up. Legend is there, sitting inches from him, an arm outstretched to grasp his shoulder. Concern shines bright in his eyes.

“Ledge,” Warriors rasps. He searches his form in the darkness, looking for some sign of blood and gaping wounds. But there are none. “What…”

“You were dreaming,” Legend says, quietly. His tone is uncharacteristically caring, soft. “It must’ve been pretty bad by the sound of it. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Warriors swallows. His throat is terribly hoarse and his mouth dry. His hands lie shaking before him but he dares not look down at them.

“Sorry.”

“An apology remedies nothing.”

He fights against the urge to close his eyes once more and block out the world. Usually, he is alone for these things, to cry and shiver in the aftermath. And he can deal with it. Shove the nightmare from his mind and continue on as he was. But now, with Legend looking at him with something horribly, understandingly sad, he wants nothing more than to simply disappear.

Get a hold of yourself, captain. It was only a dream.

Legend squeezes his shoulder a bit, bringing him back to the present. “Do you uh…you wanna talk about it?” 

A harsh spark of laughter escaped from between clenched teeth. 

“What is there to talk about?”

The veteran lowers his gaze for a split second, just fast enough that Warriors can’t catch the emotion that flashes across his eyes. He shrugs and the movement is jerky, awkward.

“Suit yourself. But take it from me. It’s easier to face it all when it's out in the open.” He stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. “You don’t have to, though. I’m not gonna force you or anything.”

Warriors blinks, long and hard. Tears prick at the edges of his eyes.

“Yeah…thanks,” he manages. “Sorry to have woken you up. You can go back to sleep now. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on your beauty rest.”

Legend huffs a short chuckle. “We all know it’s you who needs your beauty rest, pretty boy, not me. Hylia help us if you’ve got eye bags in the morning.”

Warriors tries to laugh too, but it comes out sounding more like a sob. He curls in on himself slightly. 

“I guess I should try and go back to sleep, then.”

His gaze drifts to where his pillow rests. Right now, lying down upon it and burying himself in the soft sheets feels like nothing less than a death sentence.

…then again so does sitting here, falling apart before his brother’s eyes.

(When he looks at him he can see blood streaming down his face, the arrow piercing his heart. And he’s back there once more, hearing his brothers proclaiming his many sins.)

Legend is still gazing at him, gnawing his lip a little. Warriors dredges up a smile.

“I’ll be okay, vet. Truly. Go back to sleep.”

The hero’s hand slips away and Warriors finds himself almost missing its warmth. He ducks his head, trying to shove away the shame clawing at him, the images still dancing before his sand-paper eyes.

“Alright, you idiot. You’re gonna make me do it, aren’t you?” 

Warriors looks up, a frown creasing his forehead. “What…”

In the next moment, Legend wraps his arms around him. His mind stutters to a halt. The veteran isn’t a touchy person, especially not when it comes to emotional situations. He has never even seen him attempt to embrace someone, nor return one when it is given.

“Vet…what are you…”

Legend sighs, testily. “Shut up. You look like you need a hug and no one else is here to do it.”

Warriors stares down at the head of fluffy pink hair that rests on his chest. A smile tugs at his lips. Slowly, he wraps his arms around the small hero, focusing on the warmth of his body, the healthy beat of his heart.

He is alive. His brothers are alive. 

A tear slips down his cheek.

“Thanks Legend.”

“Don’t mention it. I would never have been able to get to sleep with you flopping around like a dying fish. So, this isn’t all for your benefit.”

Warriors’ grin grows a little larger. This time it’s genuine. Shaky, but unmistakably real. 

“Of course not.”

[emwritesstuff]

DYNAMO | Steve Rogers x Reader | part 5.

HYDRA has made their share of human experiments. You're just one of them. One of the least successful ones. One of the least functional ones. At least your life in the facility gave you a few things: unwavering resilience, cool(ish) superpowers and a great sense of humor. Steve Rogers would strongly disagree with that last one. A single chance encounter with him reluctantly brings you into the Avengers Compound, and you're determined to make his life as miserable as you can. Feeling's mutual.

AO3 | Masterlist | Playlist (coming soon!)

notes: The one where you make a bunch of probably very dumb decisions! This one has 18+ bits, marked by red dividers. MDNI. (warnings: mentions of human experimentation, health related stuff, brainwashing, cursing, smut(!!) ) (5.4K words)

5: OF MOMENTUM

Cap is waiting the second you leave the visiting room. He looks angrier than ever. It’s not like you didn’t see this coming – in fact, you’re actually shocked Fury managed to keep him at bay long enough for you to have a full conversation with Dr. Steiner.

“Before you begin your speech—”

“There is no speech. Start explaining why you went to talk to him. Alone.”

“Because, first of all, I don’t need babysitting, and second—” You round him up, now closer to the door than he is. You’re surprised he’s not actually blocking your path. “he wasn’t going to talk with anyone else! Not even Nat could make him open his mouth.”

And when Natasha fails at interrogation, well. Game’s usually lost.

He follows you along the maze of corridors as you try and find the way out.

“You do realize how this looks, don’t you? Going behind our backs and doing whatever you want is not—” As he says it you turn, getting right into his face and jamming a finger into his chest.

“Don’t you dare imply I’m teaming up with that HYDRA scum.” You hiss. “I don’t do that anymore, I told you. You’re just so used to everyone who doesn’t follow your book being labeled the bad guy that—”

“I didn’t say that. Bu you are putting everyone here in danger by—”

“I’m not! And I’m not on this goddamn madman’s side. I fled from the Brutkasten under a rain of bullets and a snowstorm! I chose to be here. Even though I know I’m ending up at the Raft at some point or another.”

There’s an ache in your chest, like a fishing hook pulling your organs down to the pit of your stomach. Steve Rogers would never trust you. You’d always be just another piece of shit he wants to wipe out from the world.

“You’re not—” Before he can make an empty promise, you walk out the main door and into the open air.

“Rogers, listen to me: I’m making the conscious choice to believe I have friends now – not you – even though I know this is all business. I know what I was part of. I know it now, but I didn’t then. They raised me to think that place was salvation.” You let out a shaky breath, crossing the cement pavement towards the helicopter Fury had arranged to bring you here. Cap’s motorcycle parked right next to it.

He’s still following you, looking at you with a heavy frown as you hop inside the transport. “I will not spend the rest of my life atoning for sins I didn’t know I was committing. But if you feel like hating me for it, go ahead. I can’t stop you. You’re Captain-Motherfucking-America, after all.”

You want to laugh at his lack of words. All you needed to get him to stop with his constant nagging was reverse verborrhage and a little oversharing. Who knew.

“But maybe not right now. You’re gonna want to meet me at the conference room when you get back. I got some potentially interesting intel.” You say, finally revealing the SD card between your fingers. “See ya, Cap.”

You slam the helicopter door right into Rogers’ face, slapping the pilot’s seat twice to signal you’re ready for take-off.

You could’ve kept this all under wraps. Could’ve said the conversation with Dr. Steiner was no dice, and opened the contents of the drive alone in your room.

Maybe you should’ve. And yet, something had truly shifted in you. This information had little to no use in your hands, and you’d have to share them with Dr. Banner anyway if you wanted anything to change in regards to your health and your powers.

Which brings you to the conference room, the entire Avengers chorus line sitting around you, waiting expectantly. You’ve already got an empty computer a malware couldn’t get anything from. Plugged the drive in. Entered the password, the obvious one.

7463000195. The same one you have under your sleeve. Easy.

He wants you to see what’s inside.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Fire it up, Sparky.” Tony earns himself a glare, and you’re about to speak when your answer walks in the door. The blonde hair slightly messy from the helmet, but you don’t spare a second glance for further detail.

“Couldn’t have given me a ride on that helicopter?”

“And you’d just leave your bike there?” Rogers shakes his head in defeat, and to celebrate, you do the honors and hit play on the video.

The only content inside the card Steiner had oh so benevolently given you.

It starts with a black screen, a location and a date.

Brutkasten. 24 März 2010.

You’re sitting on a chair inside your bedroom back at the Incubator. Baron Von Strucker is in front of you, watching as doctors and other staff fuss around. You’ve got the classic black HYDRA gear on.

There’s a bed, a small desk and bookcase. Lots of books. An old tube TV. No windows.

The date clicks. “It’s my first solo mission. I was 15 there.”

Fury nods. Steve frowns at you, and Natasha has an empathetic look on her face. You don’t dare notice anyone else.

Namen?

Asset. 7463.

Gut. Mission?

Ziehen.

“Extraction mission. In and out, invade a lab containing a serum for cell regeneration. I never seen it work on anyone when they tested it.” No one’s breathing. All you can see is yours and Strucker’s shapes on the screen now.

Wiederholen: and blood-black nothingness began to spin, a system of cells interlinked within one stem.

15-year-old you repeats dutifully after him. “What’s he doing now?” Sam asks.

You don’t answer. Hands grip your seat tightly. Shocked by the Doctor’s move.

Vernetzt. Vernetzt. Change of momentum with change of time. Noether-Theorem. Hail HYDRA.

Bereit?

You stand in the video, your hands lighting up blue, then your arms and the rest of your body. More power than you can summon now, seemingly without the pain that comes with it. Strucker claps once in satisfaction, and the video ends.

Heads turn in your direction. “That was my programming…Something like Bucky’s—”

You can see the people around shift into a defensive stance, like they’re getting ready for you to explode. You groan. “Not like that. They didn’t need to control me like that.”

It’s true. You did it all willingly. You didn’t know you had other options.

Natasha relaxes, and you could cry of gratitude “What’s it for then? Do you not remember?”

You wish you didn’t remember – but you do. You remember everything, every second, because that’s who you are. You’re sharp; your memory is sharp, your tongue is sharp, the edges of you are all sharp, and they leave you to bleed out whenever you see the numbers branded on your skin.

Covering them feels dishonest. It feels like a lie, so you wear your numbers like you wear everything else: right at the brim of your sleeve and open-faced, bared to the world, and people have to deal with it just as they have to deal with you.

“I do— it’s just… they don’t exactly tell the Assets all the reasons for their methods, you know?”

Fury takes a seat, turning the computer towards himself and playing the video again. “Maybe you could make use of it and find out.”

“No, she’s not doing that.” You sigh, surprisingly thankful fro Rogers, even though his reasons were obviously more about distrust than concern.

“In a controlled environment, of course.”

“Nick.”

You raise a hand when he tries to get Fury to shut the laptop down, getting up and closer to the big screen where the image of you is being mirrored.

It seems so… easy for her. Second-nature, like breathing.

A million questions run through your head, like what went wrong with you after that or why on Earth did Steiner want you to see this. Gave it to you on a silver platter, sure you’d come back to him. How could you harness so much energy at once? And so easily?

Is it the programming?

You access every piece of your memories you can, trying to retrieve an answer. They never told you what the words were for. Always used before missions. A similar ritual after them, during wind down.

During missions you were stellar. Flawless, unlike now. You remember most of it.

The only difference between you two is eight years and the use of the programming. When you fled HYDRA, you decided you were going to keep that part of you locked away forever and never think about it again.

The others behind you are discussing multiple theories when you speak up.

“It’s a fail-safe.” You turn around, hands shaking and bile rising up your throat. “Has to be! They put a fail-safe in me so no one could use my powers but them. The words unlock the rest of my – stuff – and make me function…”

You’re pacing, and Sam gets you to stop by grabbing the back of your t-shirt.

“Perfect, then!” Fury says, tapping his laser pointer on the table. “This solves everything. All of those side effects gone and we get a fully-functioning human taser on our roster.”

“Absolutely not.” Steve is still protesting, but your head is torn between the two choices. You want to stay here and for that you need to be useful. Fully-functioning. You also don’t want to be tied to whatever they put inside you. There’s so much pain interlaced with that.

If you keep using what HYDRA gave you, how are you ever going to be able to say you’re not a part of it anymore?

You don’t want to go back to being an asset. Being dysfunctional gave you character, as ironic as it was, like a chipped vase or a stain over otherwise pristine sheets.

“I’d rather… not do that, yeah.” You swallow, taking a seat again. Picking at your nail beds. Steve nods, and you watch his shoulders sag in slight relief. It’s not as contagious as you wish it would be.

The number of eyes on you makes your skin itch. Fury sends you a message through his one-eyed glaring – S.W.O.R.D will surely have feelings about your refusal to take the quickest route to becoming functional – the price matters too little to them.

Sliding the laptop closer, you remove the SD card after shutting everything down. “I’ll take this to Banner – see if that green brain has any brilliant ideas.” You don’t wait for their permission to leave the room, only halting when Steve calls out your name.

“Training tomorrow. Seven-sharp.” You roll your eyes. Back on schedule. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, seeing that today was a big reminder of how ingrained HYDRA was with your very being. Steve Rogers hates HYDRA. And you, who said with very big words that you weren’t going to be the one to stop him.

You mutually hate Steve Rogers.

Your mood is sourer than the entire sour patch at 7 in the morning. It doesn’t help that Bruce didn’t have any Eureka moments after listening to your theories about your programming. You don’t want to use it and you don’t want to go back to Dr. Steiner, and the feeling of being stuck makes any good spirits you have left in you shrivel and die.

Rogers is sitting at the edge of the fighting rink when you enter the gym, listening to something on his blue iPod. It looks too modern on him, but you have already teased him about carrying a Victrola around last week.

“What’s your soundtrack today? Gregorian chant?” It’s the first genre of music that comes to your head that could be traced back to the middle ages.

“Pink Floyd.” He says, removing the earbuds.

“Wow. Something about Another Brick in The Wall hitting home?”

He scowls and you smirk, but your lips curl back down pretty quickly. “Start warming up, Sparky.”

He hasn’t yet given up on the damn sparring sessions twice a week. You know his game now; he’s trying to get you to submit, so he can mold you into whatever he wants. Into a brick for the Avengers wall.

It’s safe to say you’re more sand and broken glass than you are clay - and today, like most days, you don’t mind the cuts that’ll give to his hands.

You pull a dirty move once you and Rogers have fallen into a rhythm consisting of verbal provocations and physical hits. Asking about his latest TV interview made Cap’s movements stutter. He goes on a lot of them, most go well - his charm and charisma to be credited for that - but some don’t. A lot of people like sharing with Captain America their bullshit opinions on the job only he can do.

You mention the one where he was pressed by the media about Bucky not being locked up and the risks concerning that - if it wasn’t a technical infringement of the Sokovia Accords. When you sense his concentration shift, you kick your heel up to his jaw, a flash of a grin when you hear his teeth clink.

You savor the victory until he catches his breath and gives you a side glance. “If they’re worried about Bucky, imagine what they’ll say when they hear about you.”

You’re hovering over him in an instant, snarling like a feral creature as your fist connects to the same place your heel did then. It’s almost surprising that you land the punch successfully, as if he’d let you. “I’m not a mindless killing machine.”

There’s no meaning behind your words. You never thought of Bucky this way, not after you met him here and he seemed more like a shy forest creature than a highly trained assassin. But in front of Steve Rogers, anything goes.

“I’d still trust the Winter Soldier before I trust you.”

“So being an idiot is also one of your super powers! Was that enhanced with the serum or—” Rogers manages to flip you over on the mat, face down. He presses his full body weight on you, locking one of your arms against your back and the other under you on the mat. His legs tangle with yours, barely allowing you any movement. Your shoulder starts to ache from the position.

“Get off me.” You squirm, huffing the last bit of air that was in your lungs.

“Are you going to calm down?” He gets his answer when you tell him to fuck off, and presses down harder. “I’ve had enough of bad your attitude.”

The way he nearly snarls it against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. The corners of your lips curl up at the aggression, at how he ditches the façade of the perfect, straight-spined soldier only for you. It makes you feel powerful, how you can make the marble crack so you can see the flawed human inside.

“You don’t get to say this crap - that you don’t even mean - just to get a rise out of me. What the hell is wrong with you, huh?” What the hell does he know? You try to kick his legs away, but you’re not even a bit successful. “You’re not like this with anyone else. Why me?”

“‘Cause it’s fun,” You pant, his weight on top of you only getting more overwhelming.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see me lose it,” He drawls, his breath tickling your neck. You squirm again, half because you want to get out of his grasp and half because of something else. “Or maybe you just like it rough…”

The heat of his body makes you feel like you’re being burned alive. You’re completely out of air now, panting helplessly under him. “I can’t…breathe,”

It’s unbearable, even after he lowers the pressure on your shoulders and you can take a deep breath in. He’s still holding you, tight, and you squirm but not to get out of it. The lack of air made your thoughts feel fuzzy.

That’s surely the reason.

Not Steve’s big, warm hand on your hip. His fingers grazing the exposed part of your lower abdomen. “Maybe you want my hand because yours alone isn’t enough.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles. Cocky, over-confident asshole. You remember you can free the arm that’s under you and try to hit him with it, get back at him for saying that. He takes your meek punch on his bicep, then pins the guilty hand with your other.

Traitorous heat pools between your legs. You hate Steve Rogers. You hate the hand that sneaks under your pants and the way you body arches to make his access easier. You hate how he says, “One word and I’ll stop.”, and you hate how you only bite your lips in response.

Until he slips two fingers into your wetness and a moan escapes. “Damn. I knew you got off on this, dirty girl.”

“Rogers—oh,” He moves skillfully, like he’s not an old man from the 1940’s that clutches his pearls every time someone utters a curse.

But you’re not the only one who’s - although somewhat reluctantly - enjoying yourself. You can feel Steve hardening on your behind and his breath become ragged as he buries his head on the crook of your neck. The realization makes your cheeks heat with both pride and shame. “You’re not much better than me,”

It’s torture how slow he is going. His palm presses against your clit, and you bite back a moan, not ready to give in that easily. Steve is already full of himself as it is. “We’ll see about that.”

You roll your hips in response, earning a groan from him. It makes you chuckle and him curl his fingers inside of you. It’s like a fight, balanced at last.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as he plays you like his favorite instrument. The sounds that he gets from you are wet and unholy. You almost want to turn and admire the focused lines of his brow. Lips pursed in a tight line.

Kissing them would be crossing another.

No, you don’t want to get to that point.

“Look at us. This so… innapropriate. So wrong.” Steve says those words but there is no signs that he intends on stopping the sinful act. Who would’ve thought? You grin, a wild flash of teeth cutting through your flushed face.

“What would everyone think, huh, Cap?”

“No one has to know.”

You can’t help but agree - you don’t even want to think about how mortifying it would be if someone caught you. Not only in the middle of the fighting rink, but at the mercy of Steve Rogers. But it’s off your mind when he speeds up his fingers and pleasure coils on your lower belly.

“Fuck, fuck—” You’re breathless, nails digging on anything you can reach, his large hand and wrist mostly. “Steve.”

“You close, hm?” He whispers condescendingly, and your nearly cry from the humiliation as you nod yes, yes, yes. “Ask for it. Then I might let you finish.”

It’s too much. Your eyes shoot open, and you start struggling again. Now he wants you to beg for it, to fold, to submit, and it’s just too much.

Asshole. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

“No.”

Steve removes his fingers from you, still keeping his hand there as a veiled promise. Or a threat. You have to bite back a whimper at the emptiness.

“Then no deal.” The way his voice is smooth and calm makes you want to growl. “You didn’t think you’ll have it your way, did you?”

His hand releases yours and you finally turn, cunt still pulsating from being so close to your release and having it so cruelly denied. Then, you spot the volume on his sweatpants and tilt your head.

“Doesn’t seem like you have it all under control, Rogers.”

He smirks. His cheeks are flushed, and the sight would be heavenly if it wasn’t so utterly aggravating.

“I was at war for two years. Frozen for seventy.” He stands up, palming himself but acting like nothing out of ordinary is going on. “I know how to wait, sweetheart.”

Your legs feel like jelly, and there’s not much you can do except watch as Steve walks out of the gym. There’s not even enough strength in you to tell him to shove World War II up his ass.

You really, really hate Steve Rogers.

“Hello? Earth to Sparky?”

“Huh?”

“Peter here has been talking to you for like five minutes now, come on. At least answer the kid.”

You blink. This has been happening for a few days now, you being out of it. You wish it could be blamed solely on your last sparring session with Rogers last week - but your powers had been the main source of frustration in your life lately. The little control you have over them comes paired with raging migraines, fatigue, black spots, the whole package. You’ve tagged along on Nat’s mission two days ago, and it almost went badly. You’re basically useless without your abilities working properly; although your stamina and combat skills have improved greatly since moving into the compound, they stilll can’t compare to everyone else’s - and that include the bad guys you’re supposed to be fighting.

So, yes, your head has been heavy with anxiety and your throat tight with some pills you can’t swallow: S.W.O.R.D, HYDRA, and undeniably, Steve Rogers.

“Sorry. What was the question?”

Peter Parker perks up a little. “Oh! No question, Miss Sparkles, I was just saying how cool are the electrical manipulation superpowers, I mean it’s so—”

Sparkles?

“Should see how my brain tries to short-circuit every time I use them. Real cool shit.” You chuckle bitterly, and he blushes and fiddles nervously in his seat. You don’t even need to register Tony pinching the bridge of his nose to feel bad about it. “It’s pretty cool when it works I guess. Fury called me a human taser the other day.”

Tony pauses his tinkering of your suit cuffs and turns around. “Personally I am a fan of Sparky.”

“No way, you need a better name than that!” The mood shifts instantly, like a ray of sun peeking through storm clouds.

“Hey! I’m great with names. And Sparky already stuck so—”

“What do you suggest, Peter?” A second passes while he’s thinking. Then another. “Well?”

“…I’ll think of something.” Peter decides that his time is better spent going back to observing Stark work on your suit, giving some ideas on how to make it better and more functional. Tony completely vetoes giving you access to FRIDAY like they both have, claiming he doesn’t trust you not to change his alarm music to Careless Whisper. It makes you laugh, because that’s actually a great idea.

When they both become focused on their genius thing, you resort to resting your head on your arm and making one of Peter’s dead spider drones move using little sparks from your fingers. You’re almost getting it to turn on when the headache starts.

“Dammit.” You can almost hear Dr. Steiner’s laugh all the way from his cell. It doesn’t help that you accidentally overheard a conversation between Bruce and Tony after they both started researching how to fix you, or at least keep you in one piece. Something about an aneurysm. As if you needed extra confirmation that your brain is trying to explode. They were startled when you walked in, but at least now the whole keep-Sparky-in-the-dark thing is over. It’s why you’re in Tony’s lab, today, why he’s working on giving your suit more precise vital scans, energy measuring and emergency protocols.

A fail-safe of sorts.

You don’t notice as he comes closer and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Sparks.”

You nod.

Although you can’t help but think that their effort is pointless - and the solution is right in front of you, held by Steiner’s grubby hands and words that resound in Baron Von Strucker’s voice.

It takes you another week and another mission that could’ve gone better for you to make your decision. Although, surprisingly, it’s not one of your bad days that settles it for you - it’s one of Bucky Barnes’.

You’re sulking after the debrief of said subpar mission. For the others, a small success. The hostages were now all being brought into safety and the terrorists neutralized. For you, a power outage that cost precious intel and 20 minutes of Fury’s classic glare on your forehead. It’s not all him, you know that much - he’s got S.W.O.R.D on his tail and your time to prove yourself to them and the United States Goverment seems to be running out.

After the fiasco, you want nothing more than peace and quiet. So when Bucky starts roaring and the sound of furniture being thrown around bursts your little bubble, you let yourself be annoyed for a minute. Then you take the elevator upstairs. Rogers is there, of course - they share the floor, and he’s already got Bucky in a headlock although a bruise seems to be forming on his cheek. You can’t bring yourself to rejoice and you don’t know what to do with yourself, proceeding to hide in a corner after Steve gives you a look and Bruce runs in with a sedative.

You feel bad for Barnes. There weren’t any casualties, except for his own dignity, the aforementioned furniture and a record player - and because you’re not any good with comfort words, you resort to coercing Sam on running to Best Buy for a record player replacement.

There’s no doubt in your mind that if Bucky had a way to switch off the malware HYDRA installed in his mind, he’d be making use of it. You figure you shouldn’t be wasting yours.

When the time for your next mission comes, you already have a game plan ready. Your words have been passed onto a little notepad, but you have the audio of Strucker’s voice at the ready. You took note of whatever you remembered from the old wind down process too, because you’ll need to come off of whatever state you’ll be at by the end.

It’s easy enough. You get into your gear, drag a chair to the center of your bedroom. Your hands are shaking furiously as you put on your earbuds and hit play on the audio. Your heartbeat roars inside your chest as you repeat the words. Until it slows down, all at once, like flicking a switch. You examine your steady hands, the anxiety from a minute ago vanished. In fact, you can’t bring yourself to feel anything, although bewilderment would be precisely what you’d be feeling when you make your hands and arms light up blue, energy flowing through you like a river.

This is good. This is great!

You don’t know why you haven’t done this before. Actually, you know why - you’ve been scared. Scared about what it would do to you, to the last bits of your soul that you’ve been holding on to so tightly ever since you learned what HYDRA wanted to do with the world. Too scared to even imagine the satisfaction on Dr. Steiner’s face. Like he won.

But he didn’t, and you’re not scared.

You’re not happy, either. You’re not… anything.

Not even Steve brings up the feelings he usually does (and that other, new thing). He has one of his eyebrows raised as you walk in and strap yourself down in a single firm motion.

“Good mornin’ to you too, Sparky.”

You know you should be annoyed right now, huffing and puffing. Your eyebrows don’t even pinch at the nickname. “Good morning, Captain.”

Your voice comes out a little too smooth and a little too robotic, but you hope Steve isn’t paying too much attention - even if he is, soon enough Nat and Sam are walking into the Quinjet and his focus on you is diluted.

You don’t feel the need to clap back at his orders and instructions as the jet lands near another HYDRA base. This one isn’t empty, at least of dozen former members have made it into a makeshift HQ. It’s more of a hunting shack than a fortress, and you’re the first to walk down the ramp, fingers already crackling.

Not even the successful mission brings you joy, with secured intel and that same dozen on their way to prison. You took five of them down yourself, only making the lights flicking a little in the process. You don’t feel pride as Fury debriefs your team, a pleased gleam in his eye.

You don’t feel anything at all.

It catches up with you as soon as you sink into an ice bath and repeats your words in reverse order. Now you remember why this process was such a struggle.

You feel like throwing up, like crying, like hitting Steve Rogers square in the jaw; you feel euphoric and proud and terrified. A migraine as a cherry on top. It’s too much.

You try your best to keep quiet.

“Is everything alright, Miss Sparky? Should I call Dr. Banner?”

You’re startled by the disembodied voice. “Fuck, no, FRIDAY. Everything’s… fine, just… go away.”

“I’ve identified sounds of distress. I need a confirmation you are well, please.”

The chattering of your teeth fills the bathroom.

“I’m peachy. Go to your… computer bedroom or whatever. Jesus.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need assistance.”

Blood is roaring in your ears as your heart beats wildly and you breathe in sharp puffs of air. You basically crawl back to your bed, a naked wet mess.

Your bed.

You have a bed for another day. Another week, even.

“Miss Sparky, Tony? Seriously…”

It makes you laugh a little. Then, you cry until you fall asleep.

Two days. Two days of peace. Of wondering if your programming had reset your brain somehow, and you finally evicted Steve Rogers and his hands out of your mind.

Foolish of you think that the repressed feelings all have come and gone that night after the mission.

It hits you like a train, and has you squeezing your thighs together for friction. You try your best to focus on Weekend at Bernie’s for a good 15 minutes, to no avail. It’s like the universe is taking a piss out of you, because everyone else has left the compound for the evening, for a reason or another. Even Bucky. But you know he is home. You’ve seen the bike on the garage, the memory of him on top of it not helping your case. It’s not just because of that fatidical morning that you’re like this - it’s because of the other times, too.

Maybe you want my hand because yours alone isn’t enough.

You let out an irritated groan, kicking the blanket off your legs like a bratty child.

You already know working solo won’t work. You’ve tried. What you need is to get it done, get it - him - out of your system, so you can move on.

Goddamn you, Rogers.

“FRIDAY?” You close your eyes, shaking your head when the AI responds. “Give me Roger’s location. Now.”

“Captain Rogers is currently down at the compound gym. Boxing area.”

Of course he is.

You don’t bother dressing up - the bath robe you’re in will have to do. You don’t even put on shoes, but it doesn’t matter because the way down to the gym is mostly carpet and ceramic.

Do you know what you’re going to do when you get there and face him? No. But you’re fixing this problem here and now. You’re either kicking his ass or… good lord. No matter. You’ve held on long enough, and your torment ends today.

He looks away from the punching bag when you slide the door open, raising his eyebrows as you march up to him.

“Can I help you?”

Yes. You can help by undoing whatever you did to me with those hands, dammit.

He’s panting from his workout, shirt clinging to his body. His eyes roam yours, a bit too exposed now from the knot of your robe loosening up.

“We have… unfinished business.”

Steve smirks. He steps towards you, and he’s so… tall. Overpowering, like looking up at a marble statue in a museum. It takes everything on you not to run away.

No. This ends today. You’re having it your way.

“And what am I supposed to do about that, darlin’?”

Jesus H. Christ.

Get it together.

You’re not sure if you want to punch him in that stupid pretty face or—

“Start by shutting the fuck up, Rogers.”

Or grab him by the collar and slam your lips onto his.

[spacetimesally]

A starship engine room buckles under pressure when Sally pushes her to give more than she's got, but a well placed plynumal diverter might make all the difference in, "The Battle for Lunar Prime"

Other Timelines, Other Lifetimes Series…

Other Timelines, Other Lifetimes Series - The Astounding Wonders of Spacetime Sally, envisioned as a 1920s/30s pulp era sci-fi serial, this timeline/lifetime would see Captain Sally Hannigan as the number one ace pilot of Metropolitan Star Command defending and protecting earth’s capitol city, New St. Vivian, a sprawling metropolis and home to earth’s first spaceport.

...

Again, I gave the above storyline blurb to ChatGPT-4 to turn it into a old-timey sci-fi radio serial:

Esteemed listeners, connoisseurs of interstellar intrigue, prepare yourselves for an episode of 'Spacetime Sally' that will set your hearts racing and your spirits soaring! In the gripping installment titled 'The Battle for Lunar Prime,' our fearless Sally is at the helm of her trusty starship, facing a challenge that tests the very limits of man and machine.

As the engine room groans and creaks under the immense strain, our heroine demands the impossible from her valiant vessel, pushing her beyond the boundaries of endurance in a desperate bid to turn the tide of conflict. The very stars themselves hold their breath as the ship teeters on the brink of catastrophe!

Yet, in the crucible of this cosmic contest, a glimmer of hope shines forth—a well placed plynumal diverter, an arcane device of unknown potential, may just be the key to salvation. Can Sally implement this enigmatic mechanism in time to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?

Join us for 'The Battle for Lunar Prime,' a tale of daring, determination, and the indomitable will to prevail. Witness as Sally navigates the perils of the cosmos, where every second counts and the fate of Lunar Prime hangs in the balance!

Tune in, dear listeners, for an episode replete with suspense, heroism, and the relentless pursuit of triumph in the face of overwhelming odds. 'Spacetime Sally' is set to embark on an adventure where the echoes of her deeds will resonate across the universe!

[scotianostra]

On August 17th 1424 French and Scots troops suffered defeat at the Battle of Verneuil.

Scots have a long history with France, the first official alliance dates back to the start of The First War of Scottish Independence

First agreed in 1295/6 the Auld Alliance was built on Scotland and France’s shared need to curtail English expansion. Primarily it was a military and diplomatic alliance but for most of the population it brought tangible benefits through pay as mercenaries in France’s armies and the pick of finest French wines.

In the poet William Dunbar’s, poem “Dirige to the King” he extols to James IV the selections of those wines….

‘To drink withe ws the new fresche wyne That grew apone the revar Ryne, Fresche fragrant claretis out of France, Off Angeo and of Orliance,’

Shakespeare’s ‘Henry V’ rightly portrays the Battle of Agincourt in 1415 as one of England’s greatest military victories. For the French it was a disaster that led to the near collapse of their kingdom. In their darkest hour the Dauphin turned to the Scots, England’s enemy, for salvation. Between 1419 and 1424, 15,000 Scots left from the River Clyde to fight in France. In 1421 at the Battle of Bauge the Scots dealt a crushing defeat to the English and slew the Duke of Clarence.

Honours and rewards were heaped upon the Scots army by the French. The Earl of Douglas was given the royal Dukedom of Touraine and the Scots army lived well off the land, much to the chagrin of the French peasantry. Their victory was short lived however; at Vernuil in 1424 a Scots army of 4,000 men was annihilated. As mercenaries they could have expected no mercy and those who were captured were dispatched on the spot. Despite their defeat, the Scots had brought France valuable breathing space and effectively saved the country from English domination.

Many Scots continued to serve in France. They aided Joan of Arc in her famous relief of Orleans and many went on to form the Garde Écossais, the fiercely loyal bodyguard of the French Kings, where they were at the very heart of French politics. And of course our Monarchs daughters married into the Royal Family of France, most notably, Margaret Stewart, from yesterday’s post and the most famous of all Mary Queen of Scots.

Many Scots mercenaries settled in France although they continued to think of themselves as Scots. One such man was Beraud Stuart of Aubigny: a third-generation Scot immigrant, Captain of the Garde Écossais from 1493-1508, and hero of France’s Italian wars. To this day both he and other Scots heroes of the Auld Alliance are celebrated in Beraud’s home town of Aubigny-sur-Neve in an annual pageant.

Of the battle itself it was later described as a ‘second Agincourt’ and Scotland’s future military prospects were damaged by the deaths in battle of two leaders - the Earl of Douglas and the Earl of Buchan. The defeat saw an end to Scotland’s participation as a nation in the Hundred Years’ War, although individual mercenaries stayed on to fight alongside the French.

This was a particularly brutal battle, Scots were slaughtered rather than being taken prisoner after the English had won the battle. The French had not adhered to the rules of the battle, chivalry was a big thing in those days, added to that Scotland was meant to be at peace with England at this time and this annoyed the English, a truce between England and Scotland had come into effect on the 1st May (I believe) which meant that the Scots would no longer fight with the French- but there was a loophole allowing Scottish forces already in France to stay. The English were offended at the Scottish presence. It seems that the English side and the Scottish forces, arrayed before the battle, hurled challenges, presumably with insults, at each other: this was to be a fight to the death, and the Scottish- oath breakers- did not deserve proper chivalric protocol. No quarter was given those Scots attempting to surrender were cut down and virtually the entire Scots force falling on the battlefield. The Scots stood their ground and died where they fought. A contemporary account said this of the aftermath…..

“… there a horrible spectacle to see on the battlefield, the corpses in high, tightly packed heaps, especially where the Scots had fought. No prisoners were taken among them, and the heaps held the bodies of the dead English soldiers all mixed up with theirs.” (Thomas Basin, Bishop of Lisieux):

[wecanbeperfect]

A NEW HEAVEN AND NEW EARTH

Revelation 21:5 And he that sat upon the throne said, behold, I make all things new, And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.

[creamypudding]

Siren Songs

Rated E 14 Chapters Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirates, Omega Verse, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Sexual Reproductive Parts, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Bonding, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling in Love, Fluff and Smut, Marking, Multiple Sexual Partners, Murder, Stillbirth, Uncontrollable Heat, Unplanned Pregnancy, Happy Ending. Summary:

Cloud is a lowly omega, 'serving' aboard a SHINRA naval vessel. Zack is a pirate captain with a two-fold agenda: make life hell for SHINRA and rescue wayward omegas, taking them to safety. Cloud never met anyone who genuinely seemed to care for him or made him feel like he was worth more than what was between his legs. He wishes Zack would stop being so damn respectful. He wishes they could find a way to be together, but he knows the end goal the pirate captain has in mind for him, and he couldn't disagree more with it.

Chapter 1: The Raid

Cloud has a run in with a pirate crew that forever changes the course of his life.

Excerpt:

They found all his cleverest spots; boarded them up, filled them with barrels and ballasts. Cloud’s latest attempt at salvation nets him a permanent home in a cell down in the ship's bowels. Bilge water leaks in and the musty smell is permanently soaked into his hair and absorbed by his pores, even though he keeps out of the water as much as possible. So of course the one thing he is grateful for is the daily chores above deck, heavily-supervised as they are.

He gets to smell the sea breeze as he goes about his duties: reporting on the bilge water situation, cooking meals in the galley, and emptying the chamber pots of the higher ranking officers on the Deliverance.

He does his work without a grumble, hoping the silence will make others forget his existence. Wishful thinking, really. While his freedom is restricted, the crew's access to him has never been more unfettered.

The abuse he faces is almost nightly. The only positive to come out of the intrusions is the news he becomes privy to as he is made to listen to pillow talk.

He learns that the Deliverance will make landfall in a fortnight's time. They will get a new Fleet Maid as Cloud’s too obstinate and his cooking deemed inedible. So Cloud’s time aboard the vessel is coming to an end. This sparks no joy for Cloud. He’s never heard of an omega serving in the SHINRA fleet to ever return from the sea.

Keep read HERE.

[winterwhisperz-blog]

ALR

I’ve already exhausted the ears of anyone who listens to me with rambles of Touchstarved—and I fear if I bring it up again to them I’ll be taken to the gallows

So I’m taking my ranting to the actual fandom and in hopes I’ll be quiet after I actually type out my thoughts <33

SO

Buckle up I’ve got a lot to say

First tho: these rambles do have some spoilers for The Arcana and Last Legacy and of course— the demo for Touchstarved so bE WARNED

Ahem ahem

Ramble number 1 🤺

First off- IM JUST SO GENERALLY HYPED FOR THE FULL STORY

Like I love romance and all— BUT THE ACTUAL PLOT??

It’s just so intriguing to me

I’m so excited to see what the full on plot is going to be—

Like take The Arcana and Last Legacy for example

Us, as MC, are a magician’s apprentice with years of lost memories, tasked with the responsibility of solving the dead count’s death. Doing so in the timeframe of a masquerade that the Devil arcana crashes, presenting his idea of merging realms—with him as ruler.

Then in Last Legacy

We’re a human from earth that gets transported to a recovering magical world that was only a game back home. Come to find out an old evil is slowly resurfacing—

LIKE BOTH ARE SO COOL

So what is the full story of Touchstarved gonna be? ?

I’m assuming it’s a longer game than the previously mentioned, so I just- GAHHHHH

I can’t wait

I also wonder how much of a center piece Touchstarved MC is gonna be

Like what is gonna be our role? Why are we important to the overall plot of the entire game?

We already know why we’re important to our own story—duh. UHH lemme articulate this-

Like MC’s story is clear in the demo, we’re cursed with hands that corrupts whoever we touch—and we’ve come to the dangerous city of Eridia to find a cure. But I can’t WAIT to find out how that ties in with everything else.

Like how does our curse connect us to the LIs? To Eridia? To everything?

How much of a role does MC really play?

Like in Arcana, we aren’t just the one given the job of solving a murder, but we’re also the one with powers that can rival the Devil’s. We’re the Fool Tarot card—the start of the journey.

And in Last Legacy we’re not just the human from earth brought into an unfamiliar world, but also the human that wields a relic that once belonged to the LI’s ‘dead’ friend/captain. (A relic that is later vital in saving the world)

So I’m just— I’m so excited to see why Touchstarved MC is connected to everything. What decisions we’ll be able to make, and why those decisions will lead to either a happy or horrific ending.

I already love these writers—and I love the characters, and I already love the glimpses we have of the start of the plot.

Like the vibe and plot of the story is what really got me INTO touchstarved. (That and the characters are uhhh rlly pretty 👉👈 AND THE ANIMATED INTRO WAS IMMACULATE)

I’m just so hyped to see what the story is—and how the routes are going to end. Will it truly be happy? Will we actually end it by saving whatever evil is corrupting the world? Or will it be a bittersweet end, where it’s only happy because MC and whatever LI they picked—survived and get to be together?

Like we’ll probably solve things- but I just wonder how bittersweet and still tragic the writers will make it—like what if to gain one character’s salvation, we have to doom another? I think I read somewhere where the Devs said our choice of LI will result in consequences for another— AND I THINK THATS JUST SO

Muah muah

My heart will utterly break

Anyway—I’m just really excited for Touchstarved plot—can’t wait, mentally pained that it’s going to be like waiting for my sailor husband to return from sea. but I have faith it’ll be worth it- especially with how much love has already been put into it.

ALR

NOW UNTO RAMBLE 2

Ramble 2 😙

SO SO SO, now unto the romance hype

I’m vry excited for what the romance is gonna be like. Like, I’ve played a few of these games before. Mainly Arcana, Last Legacy, Mystic Messenger, etc.

And usually the romance starts pretty quick, (mainly due to these games being a bit shorter.)

But I wonder how fast or slow the romances are going to be in Touchstarved. Like, Mc is already pretty quickly attracted to the main cast(valid) but I wonder if some routes are going to be quicker than others?

And what are the CONFESSIONS going to be like?

I wonder if some routes will be slower or quicker than others?

Like my personal guesses for the quickest to slowest romance kinda goes like this: Leander, Ais, Kuras, Mhin, Vere

Okie Okie lemme explain my reasonings (I just like to ramble)

Leander feels like the type of character (if he’s not actually just using Mc) that clings, then obsesses over people he likes. And I can picture his romance starting pretty quick— I think the slower bit will be tied to actually getting him to be vulnerable—

Ais is already canon to get attached. So I can see his romance being a bit quicker.

It’s not like I think Kuras’ romance will be quick, but I do think it’ll be possibly quicker than Mhin’s. (Mainly for the scene where he keeps a hold on you when you trip. Especially if you pick ‘Can you step out?’ At the start.)

I am very curious how he’s gonna be in love though- it’s oddly hard for me to picture

Now Mhin—i can picture theirs being slower because they don’t just not want YOU to get hurt, but THEY don’t want to get hurt either.

And now Vere—I can see the physical parts of the romance being able to happen pretty quickly—but for Vere to actually like—develop sincere feelings? That’ll definitely take longer.

I can’t wait for it to happen tho

I also can’t wait for ✨feelings✨ to make drama. Like, what will the Senobium do when/if they find out Vere has like—genuinely fallen for someone 🧍🏻‍♀️ will they use us as leverage?

Will Kuras’ feelings for us make salvation harder to get?

IDKDBDBDNDND I JUST LIKE DRAMA

Alr Alr Alr- I’ll stop there.

HOPEFULLY, this will help me be quiet— because bro i’ve been thinking of Touchstarved nonstop for ages now 😭 my friends can’t take it anymore

Anyway, if you read all that, thank u <3 I hope you enjoyed my nonsensical ramblings.

I hope you have a vry good day, wear ur favorite shirt, smell a rose, and see a butterfly !!

[wastedpotentialsblog]

Destiny enemies and enemy models that I really really liked and could've been used more:

Marauder Ultras:

They're fun to fight! They're fast, can use stealth, can use shock blades, and don't have to Boss StompTM. I would've loved to see these guys decked in white, cream, blue, and black if they were on Europa. You don't have to give em Stasis but a different boss than just Large and slow Captain is a nice change of pace.

House Salvation elites (Enforcers, Disciples, and Assisstants)

>Makes 3 custom enemy types that use Darkness powers for the first time, all with unique models and animations

>barely uses them

>they disappear for 2 years

They didn't come back til Seraph! SERAPH. Come on man. These fuckers should've been everywhere throughout BL. I also think their lack of appearance also contributed to the lack of urgency of the "our enemies have darkness now" threat. I mean, we fought like 8 or 9 named "Salvation Elites" but most were just standard Ultra Captains. If they were Elites, they could've just been these guys.

Side note: Out of the new factions of Lucent Hive, Shadow Legion, and House Salvation. Salvation didn't get an "invasion" season to go with their expansion. Robbed. Truly. They made a Military-Industrial Complex and barely set foot anywhere else besides Europa. I also think this was a factor that didnt create any kind of urgency during BL.

Berserkers

Need I say more? Look at this swagged out motherfucker. If House Salvation really subsumed multiple houses under its banner, Kells Scourge included, should've thrown a couple of these bozos out there. Alter the shield mechanic to be more easily disabled by a solo player. Could even make their armor jet black. Given they have stealth itd be a nice visual contrast when they reveal themselves. I didn't play Scourge of the Past too much, but I did enjoy these guys when I did.

(Can you tell I'm biased at this point?)

Psion Flayers

Easy miniboss material. They dont have to be Ultra sized, maybe just slightly bigger than standard Psions. Could even give them a supporting role on the battlefield. Empowering Cabal around them with their enhanced telekinetics, those enhancements varying by elemental type and tying back to our Light 3.0 abilities. (Sun Flayer/Solar=heal, Abyss Flayer/Void=overshields, Storm Flayer/Arc=movement speed). Of course, their armor would have to have more visual differences and distinct silouhettes as I imagine trying to pick out which one is which based on color alone could be difficult for some. Hell, truthfully, I'd be fine if they were just the fucking Psion Sisters from Season of Dawn copy and pasted everywhere. But a supportive role would add more variety to a fight.

Rocket Centurions

Bet you forgot about these dudes, huh? They pop up in the EAZ but, you know, we've been fighting the Cabal for this long, you think more would've strapped rockets to their backs by now. While their missiles are just Colossus slow missiles (iirc), they could just be normal missiles that explode and don't slow just to keep them different. While these could be neat minibosses, if you want an Ultra one at the end of a story mission or something, they could take the Elykris (The Machinist) route of firing missiles where they go straight up in the air and red dots target the ground around you and you have to keep moving. They could've popped back in with the Shadow Legion. I think they could rock black, gold, and purple

Anyway this is mostly about House Salvation and Psion Flayers and I remembered Rocket Centurions in the middle of making this post. If I remember anything, I'll reblog it. I was gonna say something about the other races but Hive don't have a lot of variants that can be turned into minibosses and the Vex got Wyverns (seriosuly. No notes. A perfect enemy type). Obviously it's like way too late to add these to previous story missions, but if we are gonna reuse enemy types, can we reuse some of the cooler ones? Please?

[aya-fay]

At gunpoint part II

Author: Aya-Fay

Fandom: Captain America

Pairing: Mobster!Sebastian Stan x fem!Reader; platonic Chris Evans x fem!Reader

Summary:  Each of us has our own problems in lives and demons in souls. Some of us cope on our own, some of us need a little help from friends, and some of us go to a psychologist. Every problem has its own salvation, except for one – how to suppress the strongest desire to fuck your psychologist?

Warnings: smut; not protected sex. Sebastian is not really working as a psychologist. He has just taken over his Empire and needed a cover for some time. 

Status: In-progress

My Sebastian Stan's masterlist and My Main Masterlist

Part I of this series may be found here: At gunpoint part I

Five years ago.

Dr. Stan's office was a long room, all the illumination of which consisted of two windows that overlooked the courtyard of the neighboring building, which blocked all the sun's rays, preventing them from entering the office even on the clearest days, leaving the doctor's office immersed in pleasant darkness. Opposite the front door was a small marble fireplace. It was flanked by a bookcase, made of solid black oak, with large panels, decorated with intricately carved mirrors, which occupied the entire space of the walls between the front door and the table. This magnificent bookcase contained a collection of rare and valuable books, luxuriously bound in red morocco, with coats of arms on covers and spines... A collection of German classics, Latin authors, and just a few scattered volumes of the most famous contemporary psychiatrists.

Opposite the bookcase, in the wall between the windows, rose a large bookcase for papers, also of carved black oak, and there were folders of red morocco with gold letters on it. That was the exact place where a plaster figurine, about half a meter high, depicting Jung stood on the highest shelf.

On the fireplace, adorned with a medium-sized mirror, were a brushed bronze alarm clock and two brown porcelain vases. The furniture of this dark and secluded room was completed by a large Voltaire armchair upholstered in natural leather, a massive writing desk, and four high-backed low chairs of black oak, upholstered in brown cloth with long silk fringe of the same color.

The whole office is immersed in twilight; long black shadows rise from dark corners to the ceiling; it seems that someone is hiding there and looking at a bright spot above a large table. Without thinking twice, Y/N climbed with her feet into a large leather chair and, pressing her chin to her knees, carefully studied the situation, trying neither breathe nor move.

Dr. Stan who entered the office had not yet noticed her, and therefore she had a chance to examine him better: the man looked to be no more than 35, styled short dark hair and dark eyes were intensely looking for something among the shelves with books. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Sebastian was aware of her presence as well as she was of his, the moment he entered the office. Everyone had their sins.

Smirking, Y/N turned away from the doctor and stared at the magazine, continuing to watch the motionless man from under her eyelashes.

“I always wanted to know if this work with nymphomaniacs too?” Sebastian asked in a low voice, suddenly being in front of the girl, leaning towards her. The tone was partly friendly and trusting, partly tempting. In general, the usual tone of a man interested in a woman. The only difference was that you came here to fight addiction, not surrender to it.

Y/N made an effort to pull herself out of her thoughts and understand what Dr. Stan was talking about.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Sebastian nodded at the magazine in girl's hands, open on an unexpectedly revealing lingerie advertisement. All this time, immersed in her thoughts, she looked at the page, not realizing what was depicted there. And so now, having glanced over the page, she thought that she would not actually mind at all being in the place of the young model, who was tilted to the table, whose legs were spread to the side. The man in his thirties who was holding the model by her neck in place was strangely reminding her psychologist. Male model’s crouch was tightly pressed into female model’s back. The poses were a bit odd so it was probably heavily edited with Photoshop. The meaning of Sebastian's question still eluded her.

“Sir, I still don't really understand what you're talking about.” The girl mumbled noticing how man’s posture changed at the word Sir. Interesting reaction.

“You've been staring at this advertisement for almost five minutes. This indicates a certain interest. Name’s Sebastian” Sebastian smirked fully aware of his sudden non-professional interest in this girl. “Why do you think you are here?” He asked the girl finally sitting in front of her.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Well, my friend considers me to be a pervert, because I am interested in��” She looked straight into man’s storming blue eyes liking her lips “older man. Daddy issues, you know. What even kind of disease is that? ”

Sebastian chuckled, clearly understanding that if her friend knew about his desires and interests she would sue him not gave her friend for him to cure.

“I think you're right, there is no such disease, and it's quite normal, unless you like old man with bald heads.” His response took her by surprise; apparently she was waiting for a completely different turn of events.

“Would you like some tea?” He asked watching her face closely. She definitely didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want for her to leave either.

She bit her lip derisively, stood up and put her elbows on the armrests of his chair, bending closer to the man, trapping him in her presence.

The man was clenching and unclenching his fists, and the jaws on his cheekbones were trembling, and she almost laughed in his face at how comical and stupid he looked trying to conceal his desire. Suddenly he roughly squeezed her hands, pulled her closer to him so that their noses almost touched. Y/N exhaled raggedly and ran her eyes over Sebastian’s face.

“Listen, if you were not my patient and we were not restricted by ethic I would fuck you right here on the table.” He whispered through gritted teeth.

She freed one of her hands, raised it to her face and playfully bit the tip of her finger, watching with pleasure how his beautiful face was distorted with poorly controlled lust.  “How is that a problem? Sir, I am no teenager anymore and I would definitely jump your bones with pleasure.”

Furrowing his eyebrows and staring at young girl incomprehensibly, Sebastian exhaled in confusion, abruptly moved away and dug his fingers into the dark strands, pulling them away from the roots. She raised her fist to her mouth and chuckled softly at his sight, wanting to prolong this moment when such man really looks absent-minded. The only thing she didn’t take into account was the complete silence which let Sebastian hear her laughter clearly. She has already sat on the table resting her hands on it.

“So you are not worried at all?” he asks briefly turning around to face Y/N, loosening his tie, and then taking it off completely. It was much easier to control and cure others than to get hold of his own demons and emotions. With each word she said to him he could feel how impulses run through the whole body, anger that started to peak its head due to her outright impudence finally turned into complete lust and he found himself wanting to fuck this girl in the dirtiest positions.

“I just give in to this game unlike you” she seductively smiles at him, but all her bravado and playfulness disappear instantly the moment she felt a hot hand closing on her neck, and a man's knee pushing her legs apart and a heavy body literally leaning on her now. Looking up, she sees how wildly Sebastian was looking at her and she quickly came to one right conclusion that it would be better for her to keep quiet now.

Swallowing thick saliva hard, she felt his free hand squeezing her waist, pulling her closer and the only thing she could feel is how her legs are trembling in excitement.

“What a fucking tease you are, Y/N,” Sebastian leans down to her and hisses in her face. The fingers on her neck squeeze harder and pull forward, so she automatically leans in to meet the embittered face. “Unbearable, arrogant, deliciously smelling and sexy beautiful tease.”

Normal, mentally stable person would choke on such vulgar words addressed to her and would definitely feel insulted, but Y/N was not such woman. She felt desire flared up inside her as her red underwear became godlessly wet, and she frantically tried to bring her thighs together, ignoring the fact that a man was standing between them.

She only has time to notice a predatory grin on a man’s face with a blurred gaze and before she could even squeak or process what was happening, Sebastian abruptly lowered her onto the table completely while she brought her legs together on his lower back.

“So you are indeed in my game. Did you close the door?” she hoarse with not her own voice when male fingers found their way to girl’s hips and furiously tore expensive nylon tights. She put her hands on his chest, trying to push the man a bit to see the answer to her question. He nodded unable to speak and squeezed her neck harder to shift the focus to himself.

Sebastian lifts up the hem of a light dress to the waist and quickly takes off her soaked underwear. She probably should have been ashamed of such a reaction of her body, but male fingers slide between the labia, and then burst into her body, instantly picking up a frantic pace.

“Did you really think that I would endure your arrogance in front of my nose?” His hoarse voice intoxicated and clouded her mind better than any expensive alcohol, and she rolled her eyes, enjoying it. “Rejoice, Y/N, because I have taken care of the confidentiality of our rendezvous, and I will fuck you properly so the only word would be left in that pretty head of yours. Sir.”

She could feel that she was beginning to choke on her own moans, which, due to the pressure on her throat, could not escape from her mouth, and she frantically tried to inhale at least some air into her lungs, but Sebastian, apparently, decided to ignore her need to breathe.

When his rough lips covered hers with a rough kiss, while his fingers continued forward movements from the inside, pushing the walls apart and pressing on the right points, she surrendered to his hot body. She slid her hips closer to the edge of the table and hooked her hands on the man's neck, responding to Sebastian's kiss with full passion.

Drowning in the animal lust that her psychologist gave her, she did not think about the consequences of their rash sex. Yes, she definitely wanted Sebastian it was pointless to deny, but now she was coming to the conclusion that she would prefer to have him in a more romantic setting, and not when he laid her out on the table the way he wanted himself, and his long aesthetic fingers were fucking her so well that, she was going to surrender to her Sir for a long time. She knew why she was here, but she could feel unknown prick of conscience that she was here by someone’s command.   

Breaking their kiss, he moved his hand from girl’s neck to chest and squeezed it hard, pulling out a loud moan from her swollen lips. Y/N threw hr head back and completely surrendered to the sensations of fullness when Sebastian added a third finger while pressing another one on her clitoris rubbing circles. She felt the blood running through the veins, and all the nerve endings and tension that had accumulated during the whole time that she had no sex gathered in one point.

Desperately whimpering, she begged Sebastian to speed up, although it seemed that it was no longer possible to move faster, and when she felt the first weak impulse of orgasm, the feeling of the man’s fingers in her abruptly stopped, leaving a painful emptiness.

In a hurry, she opened her eyes and saw how Sebastian was taking off his pants along with boxers, taking out his cock, pumping it. Putting his member to her entrance, he ran his fingers along the labia, collecting lubricant.

“Lustful little girl, now you will carefully watch right in my eyes the whole time as I will fuck you into this table and I do not advise you to look away or roll your eyes. You will not like the punishment.”   Sebastian whispered and entered her, starting to quickly knock her into the table.

Feelings of bliss went beyond her body and soul, and the sight of how a muscular body was driven deep into her, lifted Y/N somewhere higher than heaven, and his tense hand, which squeezed her neck, did not give her any doubt that the man, towering over me, finally took off the mask he was wearing outside of this room.

Biting her lip painfully and clutching the edge of the table with her nails, she inhaled and exhaled convulsively, because Sebastian was fucking her rough, forgetting about teasing all at once. She was swallowed in such unbridled pleasure, when it seemed that she was about to be torn apart by conflicting emotions, starting with a slight pain from the touch of the bodies, ending with a sweet bliss that ran through the veins like a current, with every push of the male body into her as she surrenders to his power.

With another rough push, a quiet moan escaped her lips as she felt how her body, with every movement of the member inside, went into the bliss, and the limbs trembled. She blinked rapidly as she felt the knot in her lower abdomen rip apart, and she moaned loudly, looking into Sebastian’s eyes., finally finding her bliss. He was close as his pace was quickly speeding up. For a moment she saw admiration and satisfaction flash in his eyes, but all this quickly disappeared behind a veil of lust and desire. The moment he threw his head back and growled loudly as he came, was probably one of the most beautiful signs in her life.

“Thank you, Sir” She said in mere whisper not fully knowing what exactly to say.

 “Such a good girl I got here.” He smiled, gently and quite unexpectedly stroking her cheek and swollen lips. "So obedient."

With a satisfied grunt, he quickly pulled on his trousers and fastened his belt under her studying gaze, picked up his shirt from the floor and, looking at Y/N with satisfied eyes, quickly buttoned it.

“Get up off the floor, Y/N, and put yourself in order,” he said, sinking into his chair, taking his eyes off her stunned face. “We'll meet soon. I’ll make sure of that.”

Tagging: @thequeenofmythandmonsters

[ainelane]

Fine buggy fans you win I'm gonna join the cul .. i mean Crew Buggy for pirate king all the way. It's gonna be our world when Our captain becomes king of the pirates. He already has the worlds greatest swordsman under his command it wont be long bbefore black beard and that upstart luffy are his follows. He's already sworn brothers with Shanks so he doesn't even have to fight him Captain buggy will lead us to salvation