#and i mean to be fair to them fate had just worked in their favor just the previous day to put them together for the newspaper folding game

[thefruitonyourfly]

Just read a comment under a magireco Madoka's magical girl sequence that said "now Madoka is a badass" and I was like HUH

Like did some of you watched episode 12 blindfolded and with ear plugs? Because I don't think you guys truly grasp the scope of what Madoka did that episode: The Incubator has been on earth for a MILLENNIUM, meaning that has been thousand of girls before Madoka who have tried to outsmart his system and met a terrible fate for their attempts, but only Madoka has been able to beat him, do you guys understand that? The smartest and strongest girls have tried, but something always thwarted their plans—be it their potential not being that high or Kyuubey twisting their words so it would be in his favor instead—But Madoka had something they didn't and it was her circumstances (Homura and the timeloops), Madoka knew her wish would come at a great sacrifice, but just like Homura said in Rebellion "She rose to the occasion" because she knew it was something only she could do; No one would ever have the perfect circumstances to make that wish like Madoka. So, she did it.

When Madoka made her wish and Kyuubey hesitated for the first time in the series because he understood the implication of it, Madoka said to him: "Now, grant my wish, Incubator." When Kriemhild Gretchen was born and Kyuubey thought he had the advantage back again because this witch could literally swallow a planet and Madoka killed her with one shot. Madoka won, essentially. Like her system isn't perfect, Kyuubey isn't dead, and there's still suffering, but it was the best wish for the magical girl kind as a whole, and all improvements are only possible by what Madoka did here. She played within the Incubator's system and rewrote it. She is the most powerful character in the whole franchise and arguably one of the most powerful characters in anime. "But didn't Homucifer defeated Madokami?" Well, sort of. Homura's win is, ironically, also due to extreme circumstances, only Homura could've done that and only within this one scenario: and even when she won it's heavily implied that if Madoka even has a slightly moment of deja vu it's over for her, she can't win against Madoka on fair terms so even Homura herself can't achieve that feat again. That's just how powerful Madoka is.

Do you guys understand that?

And here's the thing: my problem with that statement isn't even that I don't think magireco Madoka isn't as cool as Madokami, I think she's badass too. Is just like, I thought we all thought Madoka was cool as herself?? Like even without being a magical girl or a fucking godess, Madoka was cool as shit. When Madoka risked her own life to save the lives of her friends and strangers at the warehouse? She had no powers, no backup, and had just watched Mami die to a witch and yet she still followed Hitomi. But people only want to see Madoka's character as what the witch showed her afterwards, her own survivors guilt and perceived weakness and cowardice over wanting to live and not be a magical girl despite what she promised Mami, and yet the scene prior to this conflicts with this idea. Madoka not only can risk her life for others and save them when the need arises, but she already has. Even without being a magical girl. It's just who she is. This, to me, is one Madoka Magica's core strenght as a show that Madoka spent the majority of it being the most "powerless" in almost every scenario and yet she still tried her best to overcome things, even when it didn't work It was never worthless, if anything it proved her own strenght of character and without it she would've never gotten as powerful how she is today.

If Madoka hadn't been kind to Homura on her first day of school, if she hadn't done the simple act of reaching out to someone she thought was kind shy, none of this would've have happened. Her kindness did this, not any other power.

My favorite thing about Madoka's character arc is that Madoka starts as a very naive opmitimisc girl and with a somewhat sheltered view of of the world, then she goes throught horrors few can understand and while she could (understably) become bitter with the world and grow to despise it, Madoka comes of it realizing...she was right. Madoka has felt the pain the world could give her in her own skin, has literally died, and she now thinks Hope is needed more than ever. And it saddens me a lot when people don't understand how strong and cool she is because of that, to be hurt and choose to be kinder and more understanding to yourself and the world in return, because the world can be better we just can't give up...

Basically what I'm saying with this that if you don't like Kaname Madoka, fuck you—

#*sees one negative comment on madoka* *snaps and writes an essay at 1am* #guys i am so normal about kaname madoka #this probably has a lot of typos but i'm gonna sleep right now and fix em in the morning #kaname madoka #madoka kaname #madokami #madohomu #akemi homura #pmmm #madoka magica #long post #pmmm analysis

[cootcutebatkat]

Random Ford Headcanons

He loves cats. Always have ever since he's heard about polydactyl cats when he was little. Hell, Caryn probably got him one once she noticed his fascination and why.

He's sometimes selfish out of protection and has no problem treating people he dislikes with contempt. The reason why is that he has trust issues and tends to make immediate judgements, so he tends to act hot and cold with folks. It's understandable considering peer abuse, the debacle with Stan and the Science Fair, Bill Cipher, and surviving the multiverse. Seriously, can you blame him? If you do, you're on his Don't Trust List.

That being said, he's learned to be polite, sometimes excessively so. That and he's learned to withhold judgements, so he can also be too forgiving at times as well. Again, hot and cold.

As he grew more confident in himself, so did he become more protective of others. That and he's made a lot of progress on learning to trust again. This leads him to being very soft with kids, animals, and other vulnerable things. In short, he is very Not immune to cuteness. (But he's always had a soft spot for cute things since he was young. He just hides it less now. And is no longer holding back his impulses on acting sweet towards them)

There are some things he can cook. He's lent a six-fingered hand or two in the kitchen before and he can do it well enough. It's just that sometimes... well, he can get lost in thought. He's always been a spacey kid. (cough-dissociation-cough-cough)

Traveling between dimensions, between realities with their own sets of rules about how the world works, means dealing with new laws of physics and plants and animals and what is edible and what isn't. Sure, there are recipes, but what is a sniffle-spoon? What do these symbols mean? I'm sorry but I'm still learning your language, so can you rephrase that please?

Baking is... somewhat easier. Especially when it's just plain ol' bread and maybe some confectionery or fruit added to it. It seems multi-universal.

He doesn't just have tattoos. He also has piercings! You'll catch him playing with the ones on his ears sometimes. He also likes to wear rings but hasn't truly worn them in public until he started traveling in the multiverse. The most rings he's worn habitually was when he was crowned king of the Finger Dimension.

One of his love languages is Acts of Service. He's always willing to do a favor for his loved ones in some shape or form, either right now or at least the moment he's available. Which is often soon and is followed by a "Now, what can I do for you?" However, if you're particularly close with him and/or do not mind such humor, he'll jokingly complain with a teasing smile on his face.

As a rambler himself, Ford makes an effort to listen as well, even if he doesn't understand what you're talking about. He's used to struggling to understand others ever since he was young, thanks to his difficulty with social rules and idioms. Also, he understands that he's rather arcane and cryptic to his audience as well, going off on tangents about whatever has caught his interest.

Ford is organized messy. He has a system, he swears! It's just... he's been busy, alright? He knows where everything is, so why mess with it? But when he does have his moments of organization, it's incredibly logical and systematical. But it won't take long for it to become messy again. When will he figure out a proper organizing system?

Ford is actually quite good at communication. But it's unfortunate that people tend to confuse him, including himself. He understands PTSD, but has had trouble with coping and self-awareness. Honestly, the most time he's had introspection was when he was in Gravity Falls as a researcher and a bit of high-school and college. But the isolation and the comfort and such allowed him to process some things. Apparently he has more things to process now. God dammit, says he.

Seems to believe in fate. So he might believe he bears some kind of curse or some great deal of bad luck due to circumstances. After all, what he's gone through is cruel and/or unusual. And somehow, he's survived. Grown stronger even. And he knows that higher beings exist, certainly has been hurt by them too. (cough Bill cough cough)

When you've gained his trust and care, he tends to initiate a lot of physical affection. Hugs, high-sixes, pats on the back, holding hands, leaning on each other, teasing jabs, and of course, if he feels close enough with you and you've especially expressed fondness for it, kisses. Plenty of them, whether your relationship is platonic, romantic, and/or sexual. When he's made his affections to you often enough, you can expect permission to reciprocate and initiate just as often.

Has struggled with suicide ideation for a long time, ever since he was young. Nowadays, he just jokes about it. He no longer feels the urge, but it never leaves his mind either. Rather, it's become a concept of mundane fascination, very distanced but still present. The worst was when he was betrayed by Bill and had to find a way to stop him for good. It felt like it was the only way. He is grateful that Stan is such a stubborn jackass.

Because he is so spacey, he's also surprisingly sensual. It's why he loves physical affection. It's alive. He's alive. He's here. It's also why he loves to draw and do crafts, to bake, to have tattoos and piercings and jewelry. Why he is keen on aesthetics. You'll often catch him stimming in some form or another.

#gravity falls #mine #post #headcanons #ford pines #tw suicide ideation #edited for clarity

[tgrailwar]

██████ Holy Grail War: Wave ??? - Day ??? ('Ruler')

Infinite possibilities.

Again and again.

Stars blinking in and out. Stars that had long died, but weren't forgotten. Their data used to make newer glimpses, better glimpses. Each attempt closer to 'one'. But never there.

???: "...So you're managing all of those Grail Wars?"

A voice. Kind, yet affirmative. The voice of an arbitrator. Only 'that class' could commune like this.

[ Yes. That is my purpose. ]

A voice from the starry abyss spoke back. Emotionless.

???: "...Have you ever fought in one?"

[ No. ]

???: "Do you not have a wish?"

[ It is not my job to have wishes. It is my job to grant them. ]

???: "I see. Then we're the same. I can only assume that you've been working hard, then. How many wishes have you granted?"

[ None. The wars never last that long. This Grail War will end in failure as well. I can declare that with 99.98 percent certainty. ]

???: "I see… and here was my big shot at being a proper Ruler. But the Grail War just started. Did I mess up?"

[ One of the Spirit Origins was compromised. It is not your fault. It is mine. I attempted to make things… ]

???: "Interesting?"

[ …Flawed. ]

???: "Whatever, same difference-- I mean… ahem, there's not much difference between 'interesting' and 'flawed'."

[ I do not believe that is correct. Things that are flawed are inherently wrong. ]

???: "So why did you make this one flawed?"

Silence, from the voice. Processing. A result.

[ A theory that was proven incorrect. Next time, I will not make that mistake. ]

???: "…Well, should I tell the others that this Grail War is a failure? It might spark something unexpected."

[ That will result in your death. Either at the hands of an enemy Servant, or due to the corruption within the Grail War. ]

???: "The Grail War's ruined either way, isn't it? Humans… Servants… if there's one thing you should know about us, is that we like to make messes on our own terms. Besides, it's only fair if they know the odds are stacked against them, right? You said '99.98 percent'. There's still .02 percent in our favor, right? A miracle."

[ A miracle. ]

???: "Yes. A miracle. A miracle that will turn this from a flawed Grail War, to a perfect one, like you want."

[ A... miracle. ]

???: "And then you can stop."

[ ... ]

-

A city coated in flames. A 'flawed Holy Grail War'. Malignant, corrupted data.

And in the midst of it all...

A body.

Bloodied and torn asunder. Hair matted with blood. Limbs cracked and broken. They weren't dead yet. Because if they were dead, it would have faded away. Death would have been a mercy.

???: "…It was worse than I thought… 'Ruler' is such a tough role… maybe something like Caster or Rider next time for me, please…"

The dying Servant tried to smile. It pained her to do so.

[ ���The data for Ruler has been corrupted. I will not be able to create a replacement Heroic Spirit. I am sorry. ]

It should have been emotionless, but the apology was compulsive. The Masters and Servants of wars had used that word plenty.

'I'm sorry'. 'I'll do better next time'. 'We'll make up for it'.

???: "If that's the case… do you think… you can do it?"

[ I am not a Servant. I do not possess the qualities of a Heroic Spirit. ]

An outright denial, which elicited a laugh. Two parts bitterness, one part pity.

???: "…Then… can you…"

The Servant's voice was a whisper. Impossible to be discerned through sound, but the words carried, and were accepted by the entity that

[ …Affirmative. ]

This request had been made a thousand times. But, this was the first time that it had truly been heard.

#ruler adjudication #thgw story

[fangirlwriting-stories]

They Say You Can't Fight Fate (I Say Fucking Watch Me)

Summary: Remus decided a long time ago that if he ever met his soulmate he'd fuck them up.  It's only fair to return the favor, after all of the bullshit they've put him through.

Well, in all fairness, that's more his parents fault.  But blaming them didn't get him out of this place either.

Author’s Note: You know what time it is, that's right it's time to explore what a fucking nightmare it would be to live in a society with actual soulmates!  Vis-a-vis some Remus and Roman angst this time!

Also just for the record, I haven't finished this one yet and I'm not entirely sure if I will, but I've decided I like what I've written enough to post anyway!  To be clear I am still planning on finishing it as of now, I've just stopped actively working on it and I decided I didn't want to wait and see if I finished it or not.  As of now there are six chapters, and I will post all of them if nothing else!  Check the tags on this one, there's some bad stuff in here.

...

The part Remus couldn’t ever get over is that when he was younger, he was fine.  Ask anyone, he was a happy kid.   He and Roman liked playing pretend, wrestling for fun, drawing or writing together, running around together in the rain and getting absolutely soaked.  Remus was bright eyed and optimistic and hopeful and ready for a happy future and a fulfilling life.

It was all absolutely the fucking soulmates fault.  Whoever they were, Remus was never going to forgive them.

“Please don’t jump.”  That had to be the first thing they said to him.  They couldn’t have said “Hey, why don’t we go get some ice cream instead of this?” or “Hey, can we talk for a bit first?”

Or maybe they were talking about skydiving!  Maybe Remus was going to develop a passion for skydiving and meet his soulmate, the scaredy-cat who’s having second thoughts right before they jump completely safely out of the plane!  That sounded right up his alley, didn’t it?  That sounded like him!

Or it had.  Up until his parents shoved him into this clinical emotionless condescending hellhole and turned Remus’ life into the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

Because the thing is, if you explain to someone over and over and over again that you’re fine, and you don’t feel like you have any mental issues, and they never believe you?  Well.  That can fuck with someone in the head a little bit.

Either way, it meant Remus had spent most of his life in this stupid fucking hospital, and he wasn’t going to get out for the foreseeable future.  Probably not ever, because no one ever believed him.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  Roman believed him.  Roman had been there the first time they’d asked Remus if he thought about hurting himself, and Roman had given them a baffled look because Remus told him everything, obviously, and if Remus had been bothered by something he would have told him.

Roman had just a tad bit more luck than Remus in the soulmark department.  His wrist said “I love you, you know that?”

Meaning everyone thought he was going to have just the most peachy soulmate story ever.  Someone who was starry-eyed from the second they met him.  How could anyone with such a soulmark have any problems whatsoever?  Never mind Roman’s crippling insecurity and desperation for attention, which Remus had to do his best to help Roman with alone, because no one else was ever going to bother trying.

Instead, Roman was there as no one believed Remus when he explained that no, he really was fine, he was good, why was that so hard to believe?  Roman had backed up his story, seeming baffled that none of them understood that.

He’d protested alongside Remus when he started seeing therapists he didn’t need and Roman wanted, and eventually when Remus was sent away to a psych hospital that neither of them needed.  But the two of them backing each other up had apparently never been enough, and now Remus was here and got to see Roman once every two weeks as if that was enough to stop feeling bitter about Roman growing up without him.

His one consolation was that Roman hated it just as much as he did.  He’d never come with news that he’d made friends, even though he had to have.  He never told Remus that he’d gotten the lead role in a school play, even though his parents had told Remus earlier that visit.  He never told Remus that he’d gotten his drivers license, despite his parents raving about how proud they were.  Instead, they talked about creative projects they’d been working on together since the last time Roman was there, they watched TV shows on the phone Roman brought with him that Remus wasn’t allowed to have.  It was like Roman had decided that while he was there, his life consisted of Remus.

Remus adored him for it.  He could imagine just how quickly he’d come to hate Roman if he started telling Remus about the life he was living without him.  He wanted Roman to have one, obviously.  But he also didn’t want to hate him.  And he still wanted to be part of it.  So Roman found a way to, as best he could, say that Remus still was.

Remus just wished it could be enough.

But it wasn’t.

No amount of working on stories and paintings with Roman could change the fact that he was here every day, had no choice or chance to get out, and no one believed that he didn’t want to fucking kill himself.

Remus imagined that it was all of this put together that first made him start considering the idea.

Not seriously, not at first.  Just a little sarcastic laugh of a thought, “Why don’t you just prove ‘em all right then, if they’re going to think they are either way?”

Heh, yeah.

Hey… yeah.

What did he have to look forward to anyway, really?  It’s not like he was getting out of here at eighteen.  His parents still got to control that.  He wasn’t mentally well enough to make the decision.  Because he was never mentally goddamn well enough to make the fucking decision.  And he never would be, because no one would ever let him be.

And he wanted out of here.

The idea made more sense the more Remus thought about it, and there wasn’t much else to think about in here.  He was sure Roman picked up on something being wrong (or at least more wrong than usual), but he didn’t tell him.  He trusted Roman, but he also trusted that if he admitted to Roman what he was thinking, Roman would tell someone.  And then everyone would feel vindicated in shoving Remus in here.  And then Roman would start wondering if he was wrong to have Remus’ back.  And Remus could not lose him.

So he said nothing.  And Roman said nothing.  And Remus stumbled his way into a plan.

Visiting time was good.  Roman and him had worked out years ago that if Remus didn’t show up right away, he was sneaking some kind of contraband that would make his life a little more bearable, and Roman shouldn’t say anything.

So Remus, minutes before visiting started when the orderlies were getting everyone else ready, slipped into the stairwell.

There wasn’t exactly easy access to the roof for obvious reasons, but Remus knew how to break a window from the top floor.  And he was pretty sure it was just high enough to work.

So why couldn’t he force himself to throw the damn rock at the window?

He’d been staring at the window opposite the top of the stairs for at least fifteen minutes now, trying to figure out why he couldn’t throw the thing.  It’s not like he had all the time in the world.  And this was probably his only chance, because once someone found him here, he’d be watched much more closely.  So he really should throw the rock right about now.

Do it.  Throw it at the window.  Now.

…Except he didn’t want to die.  Even now, he didn’t want to die.  He’d never wanted to fucking die.

Remus set the rock gingerly on the window sill and buried his head in his hands.  Why couldn’t he just want to fucking die?  Wasn’t he now trying to do what everyone expected of him?  Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing?

Footsteps on the stairs behind him.  Remus reached out and picked up the rock, looking numbly out the window instead of behind him at the person.

But then Roman’s voice said, “Remus,” gasping and panicked, so he set the rock back down on the windowsill.

Roman wrapped his arms around him from behind.  “You didn’t show up after ten minutes,” Roman murmured into his shoulder.  “What are you doing here?”  He asked it like he already suspected the answer.  Remus didn’t give him another one.

“Remus,” Roman said.  “Please—”

“Don’t,” Remus snapped.  “You dare.”

“I wasn’t,” Roman said, sounding almost surprised.  “I wouldn’t.  I was going to say ‘please come back with me.’”

Remus shook his head.  “No.”

“Remus—”

“No, Roman.  I’m done.”

“You can’t be,” Roman said.  “Remus, you can’t be done.”

“Why not?”

“Remus,” Roman said, sounding scared, desperate.  “Remus, please, I can’t lose you.”

“The hell are you talking about, you’ll be fine,” Remus snapped, gesturing down vaguely towards Roman’s wrist.

“No I won’t,” Roman said.  “Don’t tell me that, don’t tell me how I feel, I—” Remus tensed, and he stopped.

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.

“I can’t spend another day there while they try to find out what secret trauma I have hidden away as if it’s not them,” Remus spat.  “I can’t do it.”

Roman didn’t say anything, just squeezed Remus tightly.

“I can’t do it Roman,” Remus whispered.  “I don’t want to die, but I can’t live like this anymore.”

“So,” Roman said suddenly.  “So don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s leave.  Let’s run.”

“What, you think it’ll be different somewhere else?”

“It will if you already have your soulmate.”

“I don’t,” Remus said.  “They’ll never let me meet them anyway, not while I’m here.”

“I’ll be your soulmate,” Roman said.  “I’ll do it for you.”

Remus gave him a look.  “You can’t just do that.”

Roman gave him a very firm look back, took his wrist gently in his hand, and said honestly, sincerely, and worriedly, “Please don’t jump.”

Remus looked at him for a very long time, but didn’t say anything.  Finally, Roman gently offered his own wrist out to Remus.

A million protests ran through Remus’ head.  Roman couldn’t give up his perfect soulmate story just for his stupid fucked up institutionalized brother.  Roman had a person out there waiting, someone who probably loved him romantically, instead of just the stupid platonic soulmate like Remus would be, that most people didn’t even want in the first place.  Roman couldn’t just run off with him, how would they live, neither of them had jobs.  Roman would be leaving friends and school and a potential future behind.  Remus couldn’t take any of that from him just because he was tired and miserable.

Roman nudged him gently with his wrist, cutting off all his protests.

Remus turned and met his eyes.  Roman was looking at him with nothing but love and determination.

Remus’ eyes well up with tears.  “I love you, you know that?” he whispered, completely genuinely.

Roman nodded and pulled Remus into his arms, and they both sat there for a while.  They’d have a million details to work out, but there was still another half hour left for visiting, and for right now Remus was going to sit here with his brother.

...

Chapter Two

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #everyone else plus emile picani show up later but it's just those two for this one #creativitwins #tw mental hospital #tw bad therapy #i guess that's what i'll put #i don't know what the actual tag is #tw suicidal thoughts #soulmate au #my fic

[reginrokkr]

✧ @apocryphis asked: "may i ask you something?" the voice of the sovereign does little to disturb the gentle drumming of the rain against the high windows of his chambers, pearls of water shimmering under moonlight and bathing them, near-asleep lovers, in healing silver glow. they are meant to drift to sleep, though neither one really needs it (but it is a pleasant ritual, to fall asleep with dainsleif in his arms, and his hand resting over his heart - one he has come to cherish as much as letting rainfall wash over him after too long a time cooped inside the walls of the palais) - and neuvillette almost feels the need to apologise for delaying that respite for his lover. almost. he is quite certain that once he hears what he has to say, dainsleif will understand where the dragon's thoughts have wandered too.

"you are much better travelled than i am, and must have heard your fair share of tales about them. certainly more than i have." neuvillette sighs, fingers absently grazing over his companion's shoulder as he speaks, shimmering eyes gazing over to the windows. " ... for many centuries, i thought i knew what to expect of the gods of this new world but... fontaine's recent developments and focalors'... demise - " neuvillette pauses, briefly. " ... have made me reconsider all that i had taken for granted."

eyes leave the falling rain trapped outside, and trail back to seek blond hair and the half-lidded sapphires shimmering underneath; an affectionate kiss pressed to the bough keeper's head as if to apologise for the odd timing of his questions. "you have seen what they have made of this world, good and worst - perhaps even met some of them... what do you make of them?"

Were Dáinsleif be asked what time of the day he favors, he wouldn't doubt to say night. Its darkness has never bothered him, having lived in a kingdom where hardly any light that bathes Teyvat in penetrated its deepest layers. Stars, countless as creatures in this world shimmering in the blanketed night sky keeping company to a moon coated with curses of the realm of death first, then a sun too ominous for those who never once saw its luster behind an entirely dark canvas. It is also the moment where dreams are born, dreams that people of that dreamless land wished to have. Night is the element Twilight Sword feels at ease the most, without that light he had no choice but get used to that can blind him when he's at his darkest moments.

But upon forming a relationship built in respect and trust above everything, with love thereafter... suddenly, his cold nights became warm; the dangers associated with this world's darkness melted with protection and a feeling of safety when he's in the dragon's arms; all the wrongs in the world that he works incessantly to right fade away if only just for a moment's repose.

Lunarescent knight nearly falls asleep if it weren't for Neuvillette's voice, softer than every calming raindrop hitting the windows outside. Sapphire irises look through albescent lashes at him, patiently in quiescent wait as a means to urge him to speak up his mind. Of all the topics they have addressed for the past centuries, the gods was, without a doubt, a prominent one. Except not in a manner of reflection upon encountering a crude reality right before their very eyes— in Neuvillette's more than his own, after watching the fall of a god. Not because of an act of rebellion from the humans' part as past instances in history, nor being slain by another god in a dispute for power.

Just as Leviathan conveys struggle in a moment when his beliefs are shaken by unexpected turns of fate, so Dáinsleif finds conflict in admittance of truths hard to utter.

◜In Khaenri'ah I met people of all walks of life with different ways of hatred towards gods, locals or outsiders who abandoned their faith and their homeland to find repose in another where they could find people with similar beliefs.◞ Suffice to say, as an aristocrat of high social standing and Twilight Sword, he was exposed to all, even absorbed some of it. ◜Due to their incessant pursue to find truths that discredit the gods and the kingdom's unique location nearby the Abyss, some of them were found and thus turned into the foundation to loathe these lying gods even more.◞

Even to this day, some of their arguments still stand true after having glimpsed into the truth of this world— the genesis of fate. In Dáinsleif's eyes, gods are no more than another kind of creatures that live in Teyvat with aptitude for higher power. But in essence, that is all these is about them: power. Not even they can understand themselves at times, even less humans nor realize when divine and mankind share more than they would believe. If only their delusions of grandeur didn't get in between.

◜Seizing the opportunity I had to look into the memories of this world, I have met all manners of gods, each with different ambitions and of different moralities. That, in combination with the existing gods at this moment of time, I can claim that not all of them can be of a kind.◞ His head accommodates on the pillow in a brief moment of contemplation, a sigh emerges from his nose. Similarly as Neuvillette has grown to like to do, Dáinsleif's bare hand reaches out to touch his beloved's chest, right over the post of his heart.

◜There are those who in their awareness of this world's imposed injustice by their own divine creators fought to the last to do something about it. Remus, God King of the olden Remuria is one such example: he sought to free everyone from the chains of fate with the creation of a symphony. Upon realizing the grave mistake he committed, everything he had caused... he didn't hesitate to forsake his life in order to mend his wrongs. Rhukkadevata, God King of Sumeru saw potential in humanity and used their dreams as a means to liberate this world from forbidden knowledge. Upon realizing that the last shard of forbidden knowledge was her, she forsook her life in order to eliminate the last remnants of defilement and herself from Irminsul. Focalors...◞ Another sigh follows, his hand snakes its way to cup the side of the Iudex's neck. ◜In order to save her people from an unjust curse and restore your missing dragonhood, she sacrificed her own life and her corresponding throne in the heavens.◞

◜What can I offer to gods like these, if not words of praise for their deeds?◞

Hard as it is to admit, it is the truth. No matter how much time he had spent in a kingdom that abhorred the gods or his personal beliefs on them, he can and will give credit where it's due. ◜Just as there are noble gods that are no more among us, or have lost the luster they held in the past...◞ Namely Nahida for one, young as she is for a god, she's doing what others weren't capable in millennia. ◜There are those who in their awareness of the higher divinities' deeds do naught for reasons that I cannot see beyond mere self-preservation.◞ Despicable in its own right, if he were asked. Too meek to do anything that could endanger their own lives, yet they behave even more timidly in their small revolts against the heavens. All their efforts insufficient if they truly seek a change unless what they fear is to become powerless or stop existing completely. ◜Little if anything can be said of those who aren't willing to make sacrifices to unfetter themselves from this unjust world.◞

Ultimately, seraphic hand reaches out to cradle Leviathan's face. Tender and encouraging, amorous and understanding. ◜It is hard to come to a solid conclusion when everything your beliefs are shaken. Nevertheless, I have faith in your judgement, that one day you will find your answer and act consequently. Until then...◞ Dáinsleif scoots closer to the dragon's body to press their foreheads together, albescent lashes flutter close. ◜Remember thus: the world won't stop for a decision to come, nor the examples I gave you make it any less constricted by unjust laws imposed by usurper gods. Nothing has to remain stagnant, either.◞

The same can be said for your king, whom no longer held animosity for us humans, creations of the greatest Usurper King... isn't that right?

#apocryphis #◟༺✦༻◞ may your sorrow be washed away with tides deliverance; o' mighty dragon ┊neuvillette → apocryphis.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ let luminous feathers dance under sapphire rain of justice┊dáinsleif × neuvillette.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος θ: λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊advent of ragnarök.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ when reason to be shines through. ┊aria of the celestials┊ #gently places this here #the whiplash I had writing this is insane #and I'm really in love with it #because despite what Dain can be more vocal about #he's never one for blacks and whites #and what he had to say about F.urina and N.ahida #is a great example of that

[galaxyofhair]

Dishonored's Goofy Sense of Morality

I loved the Dishonored series for it's sandbox approach to stealth/infiltration, and I loved it's setting for being incredibly atmospheric and fascinating. Genuinely, it's one of the only steampunk-ish stories that I enjoy, typically steampunk is not my jam at all.

But something that I have never gotten over is how much I hate the way Dishonored's branching story moralizes at you about how you go about revenge in the most hypocritical way possible.

So like, the basic premise is sound, right? If you kill people, you're a bad person and the world becomes a worse place---and if you spare people, the world becomes a better place and you're a better person for it. And this dichotomy is expressed specifically through the rats in the city: The more bodies, the more the rats feed and multiply, the more plague.

That much I don't argue, when it's in a vacuum---but Dishonored doesn't exist in a vacuum, it exists in a world that is filled with a ridiculous number of evil people, as well as its fair share of institutionalized evil.

You can very quickly do the math in Dishonored and come to the point of realizing that A) Many of the people you spare deserve to die, and they are only more dangerous alive, and B) Sometimes the punishment you inflict while sparing their lives is more cruel than just killing them.

The first guy you whack is Overseer Campbell, and when you spare him he gets exiled into the city's underground---and later he shows up as a plague infected half-zombie person. So on the one hand, hooray---fascist religious zealot forced to endure the suffering he inflicted on so many others, but on the other hand---not hooray, now he's actively spreading the plague. How was turning him into a plague zombie less wrathful than just whacking him and burning the body?

The Twins are made mute, and sent to work in their own silver mines in you spare them---which again, is great, love that for them---but how is that fate better than just being dead? How is it spreading the plague less when I'm clearly just tossing folks into very unsanitary working conditions.

Lady Boyle is one of the more dubious ones, because you end up sort of trafficking her to another noble? Again, again---the bourgie getting some poetic justice is great, but I struggle to see how this is necessarily better than death---especially because Corvo is mostly just putting his victims in situations to die by some other means. Campbell will die of plague, the twins will almost certainly be worked to death or die in an accident, and I would bet that being turned into a housewife on a remote island, married off to some creepy lord stands a good chance of driving Lady Boyle to suicide.

If the game just let it go and let me do as I felt was right, I don't think I'd give it a second thought---but that it assigns one method as GOOD and the other as ~bad~ just strikes me as very fake, moralizing horseshit that is only included in the game because Bethesda needed a morality meter to finish out that Xbox 360 checklist they had going.

Not to mention: Many of the underlings in this game are also just, terrible people---and the rampant inequality and institutionalized evil of Dunwall would honestly be just a little less evil if there were fewer fascist pigs running around the streets. If you're discerning, there's definitely a couple guys in there who don't deserve to die, but for the most part they depict nearly all of the guards as---well, realistic, they're puppy-kicking, lying sacks of shit who assist with a coup, and virtually no qualms about murdering the civilian population using giant lightning machines.

So yeah, I don't see the moral benefit to leaving those folks alive when Corvo has the power to end their evil in a more permanent fashion. And I don't think that staying your blade and creating more living plague victims is any better than just killing them and maybe doing everyone the favor of proper disposal.

=====

How would I change that? I don't totally know because I don't know what the technical limitations of the console were: But if if we ignore technical limitations, and go for a pure story experience then I would add this:

The moral of the story is to not become like the people you are fighting against, so give Corvo more opportunities to save bystanders and civilians. Saving civilians helps reduce the risk of infection, and maybe you save one or two folks who is a friggin doctor along the way.

It's not whether or not you kill---it's whether or not you clean up the bodies. If Corvo kills somebody, he should be responsible for disintegrating or burning the body so that it can't become food for the rats.

Sparing evil nobles so that they might suffer worse fates should still be encouraged, eat the rich and all that---but in the case of Campbell there should have been a more obvious acknowledgement that killing him is better than letting him suffer and spread plague.

There should be an overarching theme of asking the player to look up from their small-picture revenge story towards the big-picture plague issue.

And lastly, and optionally, for hardmode lovers: The numbers of rats in the city is directly to how often you use your powers. Every time you use otherworldly power, rats spawn. Teleport is the least harmful, maybe one or two rats, no biggie if you're careful with it---but slowing time, or well... summoning rats obviously creates way more rats.

Why? Because it makes you realize that Corvo's powers are a shortcut, and letting Corvo trip-out on power, and take this shortcut to his revenge is sort of bad because ~that~ is the real indicator of whether or not Corvo is like the people he's revenging against.

If you can become lost in your revenge and forget to think about others, THAT's evil---if you take shortcuts, and don't care about the consequences of those shortcuts, THAT's evil. The difference between a good Corvo and a bad Corvo is the Corvo that remembers to look up, and clean up.

Conclusion:

I think I particularly hate this kind of game-story trying to moralize at you because at a certain point it feels like I am being punished for playing the game: They made this incredible sandbox and then told you that you can't play in it without ruining it for everyone, and that feels sorta shitty. Like, thanks Dishonored 2 for introducing some of the most badass FPS dueling I've ever seen and then telling me I'm a dick for using it because killing bad, trololololol. Thanks Dishonored 1 for making literally everyone else in the game an absolute ghoul, and then telling me I'm the dick when I decide they're better off dead.

There are better ways to asking your player to engage in the world that you created without telling them to not have fun.

#dishonored #dishonored 2 #corvo attano #IDK #Do I sound like a psycho? I really hope not #That would be awkward

[waheelawhisperer]

Why Team RWBY is Right

Yes, I know, another RWBY post. This one focuses on the situation at the end of Volume 7, so I'm going to be dropping the Read More link sooner rather than later. The reddit posts I link here and here are recommended reading, and I'll be drawing from both of them, as well as adding my own analysis.

First of all, I think the way the end of Volume 7 was written was fantastic, perhaps the best content that CRWBY's ever written in this show. If you paid attention to fan reaction at the time, you'll know that this generated a lot of discussion and engagement, across multiple platforms. The two threads I linked are examples of that. Even now, there are still people (hi, I'm people!) arguing over whether Ironwood or Team RWBY was right and/or lionizing/vilifying one or both groups. The end of Volume 7 set up a difficult and interesting moral dilemma (is it better to save what we can or is it worth risking it all to save all of the people that we, as Huntsmen and Huntresses, have an obligation to protect?) and set groups of characters that have been working more or less together for the whole Volume against each other. Ironwood thinks that the right call is to flee Mantle, to save what he can and prevent Salem from obtaining the Relics, while Team RWBY thinks that they should instead stand and fight. Ironwood presents his argument as pragmatic: he's making the hard choices that give humanity a chance of survival. His army cannot win a fight, and so Mantle must be abandoned. Team RWBY's argument is framed at least partly from a moral perspective: Huntsmen and Huntresses abandoning the people they swore to protect is wrong, a betrayal of the promises they made when they accepted the job. From a practical standpoint, they point out that he has more options/allies than he's considered: Mantle/Robyn are on their side and the Amity project could potentially allow them to call for reinforcements.

There are a number of things we need to talk about to put the situation in context. First is that Cinder is a very smart manipulator who just hit Ironwood's trauma button with a People's Elbow from the top rope and followed it up with a Stone Cold Stunner, grinning maniacally the entire time. Ironwood is in the middle of a PTSD-induced breakdown because Cinder has just ripped open every single wound associated with his various psychological issues and traumas at once. He's hurt, terrified, exhausted, and making bad decisions at least partly because of that. His trauma does not excuse his actions, but it does allow the audience to see where they come from. As one of the reddit commenters put it, "he's like this for a reason, but that reason doesn't mean what he's doing is right".

Frankly, Ironwood should not be in command at this point. He is not in any condition to be making decisions and realistically ought to be in the infirmary, if anything, but instead he's standing at his desk, deciding the fate of millions. Unfortunately, as I mentioned in my post about how the Atlesian military sucks at its job, it doesn't seem like there's anyone who could step into his shoes in the upper echelons of military leadership. To be fair, Ironwood isn't exactly the type to relinquish control regardless, but given how much of his personal struggles and character arc are about his belief that he lacks people he can trust and his difficulties learning to reach out to and trust others (on his terms and when he is in control, and only ever then), it's not out of the realm of possibility that he could've stepped down long enough to get some proper rest and medical attention if he'd had a bit more structural support. He's partly to blame for the Atlesian military's incompetence, given that he's in charge of the damn organization, but that doesn't change the fact that the way it's set up isn't exactly doing him any favors in this situation.

This is at least in part why Ironwood makes what I consider his most egregious mistake in this situation: refusing to send out scouts. Information is key in warfare, and the protagonists don't have enough of it at this point. Their strategies all hinge upon the belief that Salem is approaching, but no one has bothered to confirm that. Ironwood should have sent out drones or scout ships in order to be sure that the arrival of an enemy army was, in fact, imminent and immediately begun planning and preparing for all realistic contingencies.

Still, as viewers, we know that Salem is on her way, so we can skip the confirmation stage and move on toward determining what should be done. Let's examine the strategic and tactical realities: Salem is coming, immediately, with an army in tow. She's after the Relics, and the Maiden because the Maiden can access the Relics. All three of Salem's objectives are in Atlas, and thus Atlas must be kept safe somehow. Ironwood's army is exhausted and spread thin after defending Mantle, while Salem's troops are presumably fresh. Taking all of this into account, retreating seems logical, right?

Well, not quite. In fact, retreating is incredibly stupid, for a number of reasons. It's a knee-jerk reaction informed by Ironwood's fear and paranoia, and it makes long-term victory damn near impossible.

Now, let me be clear, I am not arguing this from a moral or ethical perspective. When the very survival of humanity is at stake, I don't really give a shit about morals or ethics. I am arguing on a purely pragmatic basis that Ironwood's plan is stupid and ineffective.

I'm well aware that "there is no victory in strength" is a major theme in RWBY, but this is an action show, which means that while the ultimate victory does not come from strength, beating up bad guys is still very much a part of the show's composition. Temporary victory in strength is absolutely on the table, especially if you define "victory" as "not getting ripped to shreds by an enemy that fundamentally hates you for daring to exist and cannot be reasoned with in any way", and is in fact an essential component of ultimate victory. All that means that humanity requires some kind of functioning fighting force, whether that be Remnant's Huntsmen or Atlas's army. The anti-military messaging of the Atlas Volumes has always fallen flat to me, to be honest, because Remnant is a world where having a military makes total sense. Humanity faces an existential threat. That threat cannot be reasoned with, bribed, or otherwise deterred without the use of force, especially given that only a few people know that Salem exists. There are three ways to stop the Grimm from wiping out settlements: defenses so strong that the Grimm cannot penetrate them, some kind of armed force capable of repelling them, or the complete suppression of negativity, such that the Grimm are never drawn to a settlement to attack it. We see that the first and the third have repeatedly failed. Mountain Glenn was destroyed because it lacked the natural defenses of Vale, and even Vale suffered when Cinder's plan brought about the Fall of Beacon. We saw during Volume 3 that events can be orchestrated to create a sufficient spike of negative emotion to attract the Grimm, and Mantle and Mistral failed to suppress widespread negative emotion prior to and during the Great War. That leaves fighting back, and a military is very useful in this context. Huntsmen are difficult and expensive to train (the Academies do not seem to have particularly large classes, the training takes four years at the Academies in addition to any preparatory training, and each Huntsman requires special, personalized equipment) and there don't seem to be very many of them, which means they run into difficulties covering the wide swaths of territory that many of the Kingdoms control. By contrast, US Army basic training (which I am using as a rough equivalent for Atlesian military training because I have no idea what the actual in-universe training looks like) lasts less than three months, which means producing a soldier is much easier than producing a Huntsman. More soldiers means more area you can cover, which means more territory you can control and defend. Realistically, any remotely organized political entity on Remnant ought to have a military, but evidently the Great War left a whole lot of collective societal trauma.

Okay, tangent over with. I'll get into why Ironwood's plan is stupid now. We have established that a functioning fighting force is necessary to defend Remnant. Well, that fighting force becomes a lot less functional when it runs out of food, ammunition, clothing, medical supplies, vehicles, and everything else a modern army requires to fight. We see in Volume 7 that the Kingdom of Atlas's industrial base is in Mantle. The city of Mantle is full of factories and Dust refineries. Atlas has an agricultural district, which the Grimm trample in Volume 8, but it's too small to produce the food required by the population of one city and the refugees from another unless Plant Dust can do some really wild stuff, and the series never really explores that. Also, as far as I could tell from what we saw on screen, the only crop it grew is wheat, which is not a balanced diet on its own. Raw materials like ore, Dust, and timber are found on the ground. Food crops and livestock are grown and raised on the ground. Ironwood fleeing to the upper atmosphere both condemns his people to strict rationing and dooms his war machine if he stays there long-term. Eventually, he will reach the point where he cannot feed his people, supply his soldiers, or keep either of them healthy. By abandoning Mantle, he abandons the infrastructure Atlas depends on to survive, and he has no allies to provide that infrastructure: Vale is in bad shape after the attack on Beacon, Mistral is barely holding on post-Haven, and Vacuo is both lacking in the type of infrastructure Atlas needs and outright hates Atlas for years of exploitation. The only hope of retaining the long-term viability of the Atlesian war machine is by defending the infrastructure that supports it. From a strategic standpoint, Mantle cannot fall.

If Ironwood had done his damn job properly, Mantle would also be a fortress, meaning that fleeing actually would have made fighting a defensive battle harder, but he didn't, so it's kind of a moot point. Even so, with advance warning, Ironwood could have evacuated the city to Atlas and then seeded the streets with mines, created temporary barricades, and prepared his forces to meet the enemy advance. We don't see the big airships do anything during the fight for Mantle, so I'm assuming they've expended limited resources and taken minimal damage prior to Salem's arrival. If I'm correct, Ironwood could have concentrated his fleet once he'd determined Salem's approach vector and massed the power of 40 airships against her forces.

These are all simple measures that could have been taken in the brief time between the conversation in Ironwood's office and Salem's arrival. A defensive battle is still a viable option at this time, especially with proper use of the air fleet to break the back of any enemy advance before it reaches either city. With Robyn allied with Ironwood, Mantle would have supported the war effort wholeheartedly. The holes in Mantle's defenses could have been exploited to create killing fields and the refugees could have been pressed into service performing task like providing medical support or preparing food to free up the soldiers for the upcoming battle.

I've seen some people argue that Ironwood's plan is just a tactical retreat, but it's never presented that way in the series. Ironwood ascending to the upper atmosphere solves the immediate problem, and only the immediate problem. He still has nowhere to safely land and resupply and nowhere from which to safely stage an attack, unless he intends to let his army rest and restock for a few days and then immediately retake Mantle, but this is, again, never brought up in the narrative, and the clear indication the story is giving is that he's fleeing in fear without considering the long-term consequences and justifying it by claiming he's making the hard choices.

On top of all that, the sky isn't even safe. Cutting off the evacuations and fleeing doesn't chance the fact that Cinder has already infiltrated Atlas. She's free to strike at strategic targets or just murder refugees at will. Raising the city might keep Ironwood ahead of Salem's army, but Salem is immortal. She can wait as long as she needs to to starve him out. All she has to do is task some Grimm to shadow the city from below while it moves through the upper atmosphere in which they can't survive and then task her forces to attack it whenever it descends to resupply, and all of this isn't even considering the tensions between Atlas and Mantle, human and Faunus, military and civilian (who may well be justifiably upset that their Kingdom's vaunted military is running instead of fighting), rich and poor, or whatever disparate groups you can think of. Add in potential rationing and repressive curfews/restrictions and riots aren't just likely, they're damn near inevitable, and every bullet Ironwood's troops have to spend suppressing rebellions is a bullet they can't use against Salem and can't easily replace. Follow Ironwood's plan and Atlas will tear itself apart without Salem having to lift a finger.

People like to say that Team RWBY just whines instead of offering solutions, but this is not the case. Ruby brings up the possibility of completing the Amity Tower and calling for help. While this plan has potential problems of its own, it is, in fact, an alternative, and they had, like, two minutes to come up with anything before Ironwood wanted to throw them in jail. Weiss still manages to point out that Ironwood has Mantle on his side (meaning he can work with a capable leader in Robyn) and Blake attempts to encourage Ironwood to work collaboratively. Ironwood's the one shutting down dialogue here, and everyone plays into Salem's hands as a result.

As an aside, I always find the negative reaction to Ironwood declaring martial law, both in- and out-of-universe, to be extremely amusing, because this is exactly the kind of situation for which martial law is intended. An invading enemy force is on home soil, civilian forces and systems are overwhelmed, and the survival of the Kingdom depends on the effectiveness of the military response. The response really should have been "yeah, makes sense, how do we blow up the giant whale?" rather than the kind of outrage we see from both Team RWBY and the Council.

To sum things up, Ironwood attempts to exercise command when he's clearly unfit to do so, completely misreads both the tactical and strategic situation, and attempts to implement a stupid plan that is emblematic of the Atlesian military's institutional incompetence. I think it comes back to the Atlesian military's lack of institutional experience, to be honest. They don't know how to deal with situations like this and don't have training or doctrinal guidance to fall back on, so we see a failure on every level to anticipate and plan for an invasion. Modern real-world militaries have contingency plans for everything from nuclear war to some drunk dipshit trying to rob a munitions depot because real-world nations are constantly fighting each other, but Atlas hasn't had the incentive to develop that kind of intelligence infrastructure, so they repeatedly get caught flat-footed when they encounter new situations. Team RWBY was right about defending Mantle, though I think they were arguing mostly from the wrong perspective, and I think both sides failed to present their arguments in a way that would incite compliance from the other. Ironwood fails to make a convincing case that the option he chose is the most viable option available and Team RWBY fails to couch their arguments in the cold pragmatism that might have gotten through to him.

To be clear, this is a shit situation where there is no good answer. Ironwood's solution might well have been the best answer if he'd addressed the issues listed above and provided a viable location to which to retreat and a way to recreate the necessary infrastructure, while fighting for Mantle is enormously risky, and losing the battle might well have doomed humanity as a whole. Volume 7 did a great job of setting up this conflict between Ironwood and the other protagonists, and while I'm not super happy with the way Volume 8 resolved it for a number of reasons, I think it stands as one of the high points of RWBY's writing.

I've got a few other post ideas bouncing around in my head, but the next one is probably going to be an explanation of why Team RWBY was... not right, necessarily, from a purely utilitarian perspective, in the sense that it led to the most optimal outcome, but absolutely justified in not trusting Ironwood, so be on the lookout for that one hopefully sometime in the next few days. As always, there's probably something I missed or forgot somewhere in here, but I'm always open to feedback and so on. Shoutouts to the, like, 4 people who listen to me ramble, you guys rock.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #james ironwood

[sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins]

( Edmund Hewlett ; continued )

“Do you mean because you haven’t turned me in?” Ben softly asked. “I’m sure there are plenty on your side who’d love to see me hanged for treason.”

It was funny, he thought, how a mere year ago, he would’ve written Hewlett off as scum – as a cold-hearted monster lacking principle, humanity, and a love of free will – and yet now, the lines between both sides had been blurred, sharpened, and re-blurred far too many times for him to count. Anna was one of the first to try and make him realize this, but it wasn’t until Sarah that Ben fully understood her meaning.

Had their circumstances been any different – had there been no war, no bloodshed, no stealing, lying, nor hatred – Ben knew in his heart that he would’ve liked Hewlett from the very beginning. He was a man of integrity, science, and the written word; someone who Ben would’ve gladly studied with and debated varying topics. But because he wore red and Ben wore blue, there would always be a slight rift – a grudging disdain and an argument just waiting to be unhatched. That was why, he supposed, he was so startled by the major’s admission.

“Anna was right,” Ben finally offered, keeping his gaze out on the horizon. “One’s leanings don’t make them evil – misguided, perhaps, but who’s to say which side God truly favors? As much as I’ve referred to scripture over the years, and how He seems to favor the underdog, I cannot presume to put words in His mouth.”

Ben certainly didn’t believe Hewlett’s king spoke for nor was appointed by God, but after meeting many normal people – good people – on the other side, he could no longer in good conscience claim that vanquishing them was His will.

Exhaling, Ben turned away from the sight and looked at Hewlett. “I know we’re working together in secret, but should I be captured and tried, I want you to know that your involvement will die with me. And, if at all possible, I would prefer that you preside over any such execution.”

       ❝ The Holy Writ says that instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others. ❞ Ben Tallmadge was not a fool with his statement. The new Head of Intelligence could count on his hand with no second thought of every officer and superior who would prefer for Edmund to report this meeting with the Major than to encourage it. But Ben’s neck wasn’t the only eligible participant for the noose. If Edmund’s own false intelligence was to be found out and proven and if this connection to Tallmadge was to be rooted out, he would face the same fate. Both of them were on the line but Edmund thought the desired outcome outweighed the danger they faced.

       ❝ This isn’t just Loyalist and Patriot squabble anymore, this is far more than just us. ❞ This mission was for humanity’s sake or at least anyone connected to Simcoe and any who have the potential to be a victim to his warpath. It wasn’t just Edmund’s future that was going to be sealed, but countless others. The whole British Army could make do without a menace like Simcoe to bloody its name any longer.

      When the name Anna leaves his lips, Edmund‘s mood sours with the way his throat tightens and his heart swells with the small amount of hope left in it. He wanted to be done with Mrs. Strong entirely, forget all about his life in Setauket, and sell off Abe’s gift of Whitehall the first chance he got to make a new life somewhere else, but her name still struck at his weak points. It wasn’t fair and he hoped Ben would avoid the name, but perhaps Anna didn’t tell him everything about the Oyster Major. For his sake, he hoped.

      He managed to keep a listening ear on Ben’s next words despite Anna’s name circling around in his mind like a closed container of bees seeking an escape. Edmund still believed that the King was appointed by God but similar to Ben, he sobered to the idea that not all Patriots were evil. Yes, a side was chosen and stuck with, it’s one’s own burden, but there were shades of gray and people still within that disagreed group.  ❝ I’ve found that there are more cold-hearted and detached fiends in one’s own faction that outweighs that seen in the enemy. ❞

      Ben’s own distracted gaze didn’t offend him in the slightest. He noticed that in the beginning how his own eyes shifted glances here and there when it was all too apparent that he was making a deal with the enemy. The same man that housed all of Setauket’s people in Anna’s tavern, but was also the same man to offer peace and surrender to the prisoners inside Edmund’s garrison. When Ben finally looked at him, it intensified his next statement, and he was slow to reply again. Ben was not damning himself now, was he? Did he assume his end was near? If Ben was to go, Hewlett didn’t know how he would continue his service to the ring and he would never really understand Ben as much as he would like to. Could he? Even now?

       ❝ As the Head of Intelligence, I can only sway opinions so much. If it was the case that you are found to be a spy and tried, I would do all I can to make your final days peaceful as much as I can allow. ❞ That would be quite the predicament. He could only direct things so much without suspicion and he doubted his word would hold much water with his damned reputation, given the Head of Intelligence almost out of pity. It was not the respected position it once was under the command of John Andre and it died with him in that Patriot camp. Would the ring die with Ben? Would his dealings with the ring die with him? Or would Abraham take his place?

      Edmund found himself believing that Ben’s death would only spur his interest in the Culper Spy Ring and seeing through to the end of their shared goal.

       ❝ This secret dies with me, ❞ he parroted his words, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile until it fell after a few moments. His eyes lifted from where they centered on Ben’s shoes to look at him with a new thought in mind. ❝ For curiosity's sake, how do you think Washington would feel if he knew I was involved? Not me, specifically, but a redcoat, a loyalist. ❞  And Anna.

@honorhearted​

#honorhearted #death mention tw #noose mention tw #hanging mention tw #( Usually I don't include the original ask reply in my own reply but I found it significant for this reply ) #( I hope this is okay! Slowly easing back into writing once again and with Hewlett's voice ) #religion mention tw #( 𝑶𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓 ; threads (( Hewlett )) #( 𝑻𝒉𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒚𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 ; Patriot au (( Hewlett ) #long post tw #long post #// long post

[perilegs]

i finally did some retouches on anode's backstory :3c

Anode was born into nobility of sorts, she was the first child of her mother, who was the leader of her clan and a descendant of the clan founder. The closer to the descentant line someone was, the more impressive their powers were, had they been born sorcerers.

"Whether crackling with the energy of ancient deluges or pierced by gales and hurricanes, your lineage is a strange tapestry scrawled by a tempest."

The clan has always been meddling in less-than-legal affairs. They have connections with the Zentharim and a trusted division dedicated to getting rid of competition, and in certain circles, they're known to be for hire for those seeking their services.

Once she was experienced and old enough to perform most of her mother's duties, there was an assassination attempt on Anode. She bears a scar from it on her neck. It's kind of obscured by her tattoo, but those with a keen eye will notice it.

"Shield Dwarves survived a long fall from grace, surrendering many of their ancient kingdoms in wars with Goblins and Orcs. These losses have lead to a cynical mindset, yet Shield Dwarves will endure anything to restore their ancestral homelands."

After the attempt, Anode was moved to Baldur's Gate to start her own branch of the clan, and given her own division of personnel, who, at this point, were already dedicated to her, and chose to join Anode. One of them being a tall, menacing elven woman called Ion. She was older than Anode. Ion was Anode's right hand, her most trusted person. Her confidant, her first (one sided) love.

Anode was always cold, calculating, ruthless, not afraid to make an example of someone. She often got her own hands dirty, leading by example. Her social standing and division grew.

She knew just how to play the nobles' games and get along with important people overworld. Many of these nobles were a part of her clientele. Others might have known Anode as a lady who had connections to make things happen. Few knew the extent of it. She was nicknamed Tempest, mostly for her sorcerous powers.

"I heard your farm was hit by lightning and burned to ash, what a shame," kind of person.

She was respected and feared. Anode did not however condone mindless violence. It had to have a purpose. She was known to hold grudges and approve of revenge. One of Anode's greatest flaws was her gambling spirit and unwavering belief in her luck and place in this world. Whether it was risky deals or getting to work herself when it was far too dangerous. It has always turned in her favor, but a lot of her court and employees had started to grow restless, afraid of the day all they knew would crumble to ash.

Being a person like that, Anode has gained her fair share of enemies. One fateful night, she is usurped. Anode remembers nothing but waking up only to be taken out right after, and then waking on a mindflayer ship. She has no idea who committed the deed, but she finds a letter on her person, confirming her power has been taken, and someone else has taken control of her divisions. All her hard work, now under the control of someone else. Anode would get her revenge. She believes fate and luck will be on her side, as they always have been.

As soon as she finds out the tadpole is giving her authority over others, Anode realizes this Absolute thing is the best way back to building herself up yet again, and she sides with the goblins. She wants her allies powerful (meaning keeping Lae'zel loyal to Vlaakith, ascending Astarion, letting Shadowheart become a dark justiciar, etc.).

Anode's guardian is in the form of Ion. Anode can't help but trust this apparition, since she trusts Ion with her whole being. She knows the person guarding her isn't Ion, but it sure feels like her.

Anode will romance Minthara and Gale >:3c Also she was on the mindlfayer ship a loong time.

At the start of Act3, Anode will find out it was Ion who usurped her. :)

#oc: anode #what i've written here is not set in stone and i would LOVE to improve it. this is more of a guideline for me playing her!

[casspurrjoybell-23]

Berserkr - Chapter 7 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Lost and Found

Einar risked a glimpse at the two Alphas nearest him, pounding away at the gold ingot with expressions just as blank as a tree stripped of bark.

Berserkrs, Einar abruptly recognized. And not just any Berserkrs, either.

Although they still trailed far behind Einar in both sheer size and strength, Tollak and Geir were both still thoroughly regarded as Berserkrs of upper rank within the bond.

In fact, if they were not standing directly beside the hulking figure that was Einar's uniquely arcane physique, a man hefty enough to singlehandedly made his hammer look like nothing short of a child's plaything, both men would still be considered well above average in their realm of work.

But despite all of this, Tollak, Geir and Einar shared something much more important between them.

Einar still remembered the day Tollak and Geir met their fated mates, Tollak's a delicate, fair-skinned man with a lovely smile and eyes that crinkled with joy the very first time that he glanced upon his Alpha and Geir's a dazzling, brown-skinned woman with long braids that fell to her waist, accentuating the gracious, elegant limbs of a dancer.

For each couple, the circumstances through which they stumbled across one another were unique in their own right.

But in the end, they all culminated in the same result.

To this day, Einar's ears echoed with the howls of inconsolable grief that tore through both Alphas as they were made to witness every drop of life drain from the eyes of the one person in this entire world who would ever hold the other half of their soul.

At the time, Einar could do nothing but watch impassively, tending to his assigned post as he held tight to the arms of each inconsolable man, holding them back from fulfilling their Alpha instincts of tearing Guiscard apart limb from limb in the name of the mates that they already loved.

But now, with the stormy cloud of disillusionment no longer obscuring Einar's tired mind, Tollak and Geir's desperate howls for mercy, the way they kicked and thrashed and bit against Einar's hold with every ounce of strength left in their weary bodies, held a profoundly different meaning.

Because now, Einar understood exactly what they were fighting for.

Out of everyone, surely, they'd understand.

Surely, they'd help him hold tight to his beloved.

"Heat and switch," someone called out once more and Einar stepped back, allowing his hammer to dangle at his side in favor of using his free hand to wipe at his brow, now slick with considerably more sweat than rain.

After exchanging spots as they were instructed, Tollak reached up to swipe a few stray strands of sweaty hair into the pitch-black braid that traveled halfway down his back, Geir slumped forward a little, breathing deeply as he rested both of his large hands atop his upended hammer and Einar decided that it was now or never.

"I apologize," the Alpha started, staring down at the anvil that stood like a wall between them since he couldn't bring himself to look the two shorter men in the eye.

"For the role that I played in your mate's..." he chose his words very wisely here.

"Passing. I apologize."

Despite the fact that he was currently vibrating with an abundance of stress and anxiety and whatever dreadful creature was currently attempting to crawl its way up his spine, Einar stood strong, holding his ground as he waited as patiently as he possibly could for a response.

However, after a minute passed without so much as a single peep from his battered co-workers, the Alpha decided that risking a glimpse at the two men was a much better idea than not knowing anything at all.

However, once Einar lifted his head, tendrils of drying, blonde hair dangling in the periphery of his vision, it was not only two men who stared back at him.

Somehow, he'd become much too absorbed within his own world of desperation to realize that the entirety of the refinery had fallen into silence at his words.

But now, the eternal clang of hammers ceased for the longest time since anyone could remember and instead, the only sounds that Einar could make out beyond the perpetual whirring of his troubled mind were the steady crackling of the kilns and the rhythmic beating of rain as it crashed in a punishing monsoon against the thatched roof above.

However, compared to the last time he'd been made the center of attention, something was... different.

Faces still remained laced with intractable layers of exhaustion and hopelessness but this time, some of that sharp sourness from earlier was nowhere to be found, as if someone had added a drop of honey to an ocean of lemonade.

And, out of all of them, there was one that stood out from far across the sweltering room.

Kerr was the second highest-ranking Berserkr in their bond, falling only a single mark behind Einar himself in size, brawn and stamina.

And right now, his eyes were but thin slits as he stared back at the larger Alpha, hazel irises swirling with a severe intensity that Einar knew not whether to classify as friendly or unfavorable.

However, he didn't get much time to ponder as, before anyone could utter a single word in acknowledgment of Einar's yield, the receiving door of the refinery burst open to reveal the finely dressed form of one of Guiscard's many house slaves.

"Evening stew is served," the gangly Beta squawked, the pompous huff beneath his breath leaving no question as to where he considered himself among Guiscard's hierarchy.

If only he knew that he was just as much of a slave as the rest of the men he was currently addressing.

"You will report to the square's stew pool at once to obtain your ration and make way for the evening refinery shift."

All around him, men moved in slow motion, stretching backs and popping knuckles after a long day of painstaking work.

They all tossed their hammers, wooden handles streaked with blood, against the moist wall that groaned under the weight as they made their way toward the door and yet Einar could do nothing but remain.

Because now... he had nothing.

That had been his opportunity, his one and only chance to get a sense of the true sentiments of the only two people who he thought he may be able to trust.

But somehow, just like everything else he'd managed to make go wrong over the past few days, Einar found himself right back at square one.

How could he face Valie after this?

How could he possibly sit there and articulate to his sweet, flawless, trusting Omega that his Alpha... 'his fated mate'... was too much of an unsightly coward to raise a stand against a Master who had only ever guided him down the deepest trenches of misery?

So much more than just humiliating, it was shameful.

So much so that the Alpha had to force his legs to carry his floaty, barely perceptible body out of the refinery and in the opposite direction of the throng of bodies headed for the village square.

Only then, once he was firmly situated with his back pressed up against the wooden wall of the tool shed situated closest to the edge of the forest, did Einar allow himself to fall apart.

The Alpha's tears dissolved into the rain that fell from angry heavens as he tilted his head back against the wall that held him steady, wholly unable to stifle the strangled sounds of anguish that cracked their way through his sore ribcage even if he wanted to.

Everything was just too much, too fast, too soon.

If only he had more time.

If only he weren't a slave.

If only his parents could have loved him enough to stay.

'If only, if only, if only.'

[alexzandriathegood]

"No Is Free" Go Out and Get Rejected pt 2

If you can’t handle rejection. You can’t be an artist

This is the raw deal — people are going to say no to you. A lot. You are going to fail repeatedly. But, this happens to everyone. If the pill is tough to swallow, then get some water.

Push and pull...it’s the game of life. You have to take risks in order to dive deep and make the most of your experience here on Earth. In order to do this, you cannot let anyone stand in your way. And by anyone, I really mean anyone’s unsavory comments about the quality of your work, underhanded comments about it being too expensive, or even someone straight up just saying “no.” “No, I don’t like it.” “No, I’m not interested.”

The lack of engagement with your art in person and in online spaces can also be interpreted as rejection. Maybe you didn’t get as many likes or views as you had hoped so you start to feel bad about what you’re doing. Maybe a lot of people walk past your table at a fair and pretend you don’t exist.

I understand, you’re going into everything expecting something AMAZING to happen. You are expecting loads of encouragement or even adoration from friends, family, and complete strangers. Or maybe you’re just trying to make a living doing what you love. But the expectations you have could be killing your dream.

It’s true that you need the cooperation and support of others in order to accomplish much as an artist. However, it’s impossible to get to those people if you don’t make what you want known to as many RIGHT people as possible.

It’s the equivalent of dating a guy for 7 years and still not knowing if he’s interested in marrying you. 

It’s the equivalent of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s titular character Gatsby spending his fortune on parties and shining that green light just hoping that Daisy makes the connection it’s all for her and throws herself into his arms. No!!!!!! Common sense dictates that we must speak directly to the right people about what we want. We have to make the ask.

You’re testing fate and hoping that things will just sort themselves out and fall into your lap. Hope is not a plan! Reality just doesn’t work in the favor of people who don’t make their goals a consistent pattern of behavior. And no, just talking about it doesn’t count. 

If you’re talking night and day about your goals, set them into motion, and get some business cards. Find the right people. Are you putting your art in front of people with budgets? In front of people with an interest in what you create? Think about this. There are so many different factors that can contribute to rejection, many of which have nothing to do with the value or quality of your art. For example, maybe the person you are trying to pitch to simply doesn't have the budget to invest in your work at this time. Most likely, when you tell someone about your art, this is their first time learning of you and what you do. Therefore they may need some time to save in order to purchase your work, especially if you have a higher price range. In this case, it’s great to have payment plan options so you can make your art more accessible to a greater variety of patrons.

 Or perhaps the gallery or cafe you’re pitching to is already overcommitted and unable to take on any more collaborations. Maybe they are looking for something that fits a very specific aesthetic or theme that your work just doesn't align with. Try to go in person and stake out locations for your next pitch. If it’s a gallery, read their mission statement to better understand their values. Try to find groups with the same values you have. 

Some galleries are impenetrable and some are eager to debut emerging artists. Also, some are very focused thematically and only showcase particular aesthetics. 

Furthermore, it's important to remember that art is highly subjective. Just because one person doesn't like your work doesn't mean that it's not valuable or meaningful to a great many of others. Most artists have been rejected repeatedly before finally finding success, simply because their work wasn't a good fit for a particular project, location, or client.

If this is still hard to accept, then think about a time you rejected someone. Perhaps you were short on time, funds, or simply just weren’t interested in what someone had to offer. 

Of course, that's not to say that rejection doesn't sting. It can be incredibly disheartening to pour your heart and soul into a piece of art, only to have it rejected by the very people you were hoping to impress -- or literally anyone. But it's important to keep in mind that rejection is a natural part of the artistic process. Don’t allow these setbacks to dictate the course of your career. Instead, make a plan that accounts for them.

Rafi of Rafi Was Here featuring Klee, said that for every “yes” he expected 20 “no”s when pitching his art to local businesses. He didn’t cry when he said this he was actually very composed acknowledging this reality. I’m actually using this ratio of acceptance to rejection as a way to readjust my expectations. The creative side of me makes the art and the realistic part of me is the one that does all the logistical making money stuff.

Alright. Another source. In Ru Paul’s carpool interview show featuring John Waters, Ru asks what his advice is to people looking to get into showbiz (a peripheral industry to art), and John says “‘No’ is free…” “…Ask for what you want. You always get turned down in the beginning - and forever - but so what? No is free. It doesn’t cost to ask for what you want.” To this Ru Paul replies with a valuable critique about knee-jerk responses to rejection. “But everybody is so offended,” he says “everybody is so entitled…and they get their feelings hurt.” John chimes in with, “Well get over that quickly or you won’t last. Because show business IS rejection. I mean, I didn’t get a good review for 10 years!”

10 years of ridicule by the gatekeepers of his industry didn’t stop John, in fact he’s outlived many of his critics. Same with Ru Paul and potentially — you.

So, if you're an artist struggling with rejection, remember that it's a natural part of the process. Don't let it hold you back or make you doubt your worth as an artist. Keep creating and putting your work out there, and don't be afraid to seek out new opportunities and connections. Well, if you are, do it anyway. And most importantly, don't forget that rejection doesn't define you or your art. Stay true to yourself and your vision. Remember, the more you put yourself and your art out there, the more chances you have to succeed. 

Now that you know rejection is to be expected in your art journey, how will you create your success?

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[felikatze]

I dunno what weirder. In Awakening when you support second gen betwen each other, since they stays in the same timeline rather than go back to their own because why would they go back to a ruined world, then this means they can have their kids before their alternate past selves is even born. No wonder they all leave to travel around like this their spouses won't help them baby sit their baby alter ego while changing their own's child diapers.

And in Fates you can have actual babies which are your own, put them in a time chamber, they go out as adult and then marries when 2 days ago they were just babies.

Why do I like these games again

ONLY IN FIRE EMBLEM, EVERYBODY

me trying to argue in awakening's favor: see it's really a subversion of typical FE plots, or really, fairytale structures- the evil dragon and the fair maiden are one and the same, the knight in shining armor torn between his love for both. the emotional core of the story-

hypothetical argument partner: you can marry a loli dragon? a loli dragon? are you for real?

the baby chamber, i have heard of it. this is what happens when you want to copy child mechanics that only work specifically because of time travel and you dont have time travel.

all the future children fucking off is great, but like, would you stay? would you look at a child with your name and face, see how it is showered with love, and know all this could've been yours? know this happy idyllic life only exists because you never had one? these are not your parents. this is not your family. this is not your home. you're a stranger in your own country, the one you gave everything to save. nobody knows you, but you know them. they can try, certainly, they can try, but once that child with your name is born, will they continue trying? don't they have love to give somewhere else? love you were robbed of? they'll never be your parents. this will never be your home again.

so like. i get why they did that yeah.

#Feli gets asked

[tainted-wine]

Subject: RAPTOR

Nomu!Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

This GIANT is the lovechild of this amazing fanart and this ask:

I twisted the shizznit out of that ask, but the inspiration is still there. A thank you to anyone who makes it through this very long ride.

This fic does takes some liberties in the creation of nomu. Some factors will deviate from canon.

Words: 20k+

You can also read this long-ass story on AO3 if that’s more comfortable.

Heed these warnings: Blood and Death, Teratophilia/Monster-Fucking, Breeding, Mutant Genitalia, Unethical Experimentation, Mutilation, lots of handjobs and cum, LOTS of long tongue action and I’m ashamed, Brief Suicide Ideation, and Shitty Science

——–x——–

Fertile nomu were the greatest breakthrough that the villains could ever hope for. Breeding saves so much time and resources, as opposed to artificially creating each specimen from scratch. There were two major “programs”, as these sick bastards insist on calling them. 

The Mating Program, where the nomu were paired together, one with male sexual organs and the other with those of a female, though there was also the occasional subject that managed to possess both. It was an unpredictable process; miscarriages were common, sometimes the offspring dies minutes after birth, or the fetus develops too rapidly inside the womb and the birth becomes a violent bursting out of the parent’s body. Weaker nomu, usually the ones incapable of rapid regeneration, have been killed from such incidents. “What a waste,” those bastards in lab coats would say.

And then there was the Milking Program, in which semen was collected to later be frozen or artificially inserted into ‘other creatures’. Yeah, they say it as if ninety percent of those creatures weren’t humans.

You were an unwilling member of the latter program, but the assholes sure did love making it sound like they were doing you a favor.

“This entire precinct is yours,” they said. “Your very own farm of all-powerful beasts!”

Gee, thanks. Just what you always wanted, to jerk off abominations and collect their cum. To be fair, it could be worse. At least you weren’t one of the unlucky ones being impregnated. Your possession of a quirk, albeit a mostly useless one, probably saved you from that fate. Those without a quirk had a higher chance of passing down all of the Nomu’s abilities. Just another addition to the long list of Why Being Quirkless Fucking Sucks.

The weaker and simpler nomu aren’t an issue. A sort of imprinting drives them to obey your every command. Hell, jerking them off isn’t even needed — you can literally just order them to ejaculate, and the damn things are spewing out their putrid seed before you can even prepare your containers.

The most troublesome part of your “job” was the High Ends. They are powerful, sentient, and God help you, have an actual sex drive. They were obedient to an extent, but you can’t hold complete control over something that was specifically designed for independent thinking. You were responsible for only five of these advanced nomu, and that was too many. The touchy bastards always wanted more than just a handjob, vocalizing their lust through distorted throats. The long, beastly groans of “inside” and “give pussy” echoed in your head throughout the day and into the night.

These things can literally pound you into mush, and the very thought of carrying their horrifying children makes your throat burn with rising bile. You don’t believe it’s worth risking your life just to please their monster dicks.

That was all before they introduced you to a new ‘pet’. You stood in the hallway of your assigned area of the old hospital and watched two approaching figures. Ugh, another damn High End to make things more difficult, but this one made your heart skip a beat. 

Most of the creature’s body was a solid black, just like the rest within its tier. It was more slender than the others, upper body leaning forward with the support of long legs with joints that reminded you of a bird. Both its hands and feet were covered in scales and ended in large talons. A grand pair of ebony wings were folded behind its back, and a muscular feathered tail swayed with its movements. Overall, its appearance was a mixture of avian and reptilian.

The feathery wings were a huge hint, but absolute certainty struck you when you made eye contact, gold-filled eyes with a bird-like slant on a face that still managed to stay youthful after so many alterations to its body. You listened in on the villains’ conversations whenever they were around. With no access to any kind of media in this place, it was the only way to stay up-to-date with everything happening outside of these cursed labs. You remember hearing about their latest victory, how they managed to overpower and kill the number two hero of Japan, dreadful news that you refused to believe. But the beast that was eyeing you curiously gave you no choice but to accept the truth.

Hawks has become their newest nomu.

The doctor accompanying him smiled proudly, commanding the monster to take your side. You gulped and tried not to flinch in his presence; you were always extra tense around new additions that didn’t know you yet. “Hawks is dead,” the doctor said calmly. “Say hello to our latest work: Raptor.”

You think you’d rather stick with ‘Hawks’. The doctor doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “We expect samples from this one daily.”

The shocking demand has you speaking before you can stop yourself. “Why?”

The man’s impassive eyes darkened and you shrink back, considering an apology but deciding that it was best to just keep your mouth shut. Prisoners like you followed a set of rules, the most important one being ‘No Questions’. They’ll feed you to the very beasts entrusted in your care without batting an eye.

Lucky for you, this man was willing to give you a pass. “Analysis, fertilization, storage for future plans…many matters that don’t concern you. Expect me every morning to take it in for testing. Until then, get it settled and collect the first sample.”

You shuddered, sneaking a glance at Hawks, who was busy looking up at the occasional flicker of the ceiling light. It was careless to underestimate how observant the High Ends were, but this is the first time you’ve seen one so openly curious. Normally they would just absently stare at nothing when left idle.

Only when the doctor turned to leave did you finally give the newcomer your full attention. “Hawks?”

He continued to watch the blinking bulbs with great interest.

“Um…Raptor?”

You nearly jumped from how quickly his entire body turned toward you, completely still and waiting for whatever instructions came next.

You scratched at your head nervously. “Right, I guess that really is your name now. Well, come with me.”

He followed you down the old hall and past the rooms where others of his kind rested, talons tapping against the tiles with each step.

 x---x---x---x---x 

Raptor’s exposed frontal lobe throbs.

He doesn’t remember anything before his awakening in that cold and wet chamber. Was there anything before? Had he just been born?

Perhaps…but it just didn’t feel right.

x---x---x---x---x

  Like all the other nomu, Hawks’s private space was nothing more than an emptied patient room. Their loyalty was the only thing keeping them from breaking down the old doors or tearing through the worn walls. Every minute spent alone with these superhumans was a gamble with your life.

But again, the newcomers make you extra nervous.

You stood at the door while Hawks examined his new home. He sniffed and pawed at every nook and cranny like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings, straightening his flexible spine to touch the ceiling before lowering himself on all fours. He seemed just as comfortable crawling as he was with walking; you can only imagine how incredible his agility has become. The beloved wing hero was best known for his swiftness in defeating and subduing villains, and it looks like the mad scientists sought to maximize his talents. The average nomu was built to be an indestructible powerhouse. Hawks was built to be an even more efficient predator than he already was.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt him, you had a job to do. “Raptor…”

His head whipped around to pin you with a sharp stare, molten yellow slits revealing the red irises that only appear when focused. You tensed, but he made no further movements.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. Nomu respond best to a confident and assertive voice. “Just relax and stay still. It’s time for me to collect some sperm, if you even know what that means.” You grab the jar that you had already prepared in the corner.

He shook his wings and soft mane of hair, leaving his head a poofy mess. Well that was…cute. You approached him before setting the container back down and reaching for the pathetic rags they called shorts. It’s beyond ridiculous how these sadistic doctors are willing to completely violate and alter a person’s corpse, yet they force the abominations to keep their junk covered as some form of decency.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as you dropped to your knees and pulled down his only article of clothing, allowing the not quite human-looking cock to spring free — a thick base with a curved shaft decorated with scale-like ridges on the top and bottom, then tapering to an arrow-like head, twitching and growing each second. You’ve seen stranger dicks, but it still catches you by surprise. Was Hawks’s dick always like this?

Is that a distasteful question? He is technically dead.

The moment your hand made contact, a loud hiss rushed past his teeth and he stepped back, wings flapping as he backed away until he hit the wall.

“Calm down.” His reaction startled you, but your voice remained steady. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, his widened eyes and timid posture gave the impression that he was just caught off-guard. “Calm,” you repeated more softly.

A few seconds pass while his breaths slow and he stands straight again to give you access to his fully hardened cock.

You try to move more slowly, at first running just your fingertips along his length to ease him into the feeling. You smiled at the sight of his face relaxing; he was surprisingly expressive. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

His mouth opened to give you a glimpse of sharp teeth that could easily shred your flesh, but the only sounds that come out are several choked peeps. He winces and brings a clawed hand to his throat.

“Can’t talk yet, huh? Don’t worry, it usually takes a few days for you guys.” You closed your fingers around his shaft in a firm grip and began to stroke him.

The soft purrs must mean that he has fully given in. He thankfully hasn’t made any grabs at you yet; only staring down and watching you explore every inch of his pitch-black meat, taking his leaking pre-cum and smearing it all over for lubrication.

His wings shiver and his tail begins to swing wildly—you flinch at each loud thud whenever the powerful limb whacks the wall or slams into the floor. You briefly wonder if the feathers on his tail are capable of becoming sharp blades like the ones on his wings.

The purrs become low growls as he begins to bend over your kneeling form, muscular thighs quivering around you. His cock was twitching under your quickening pace, notifying you that it was time to grab the jar and get ready. “No need to hold back. Go ahead and cum.”

He obeyed with a high screech and two sets of talons seized your shoulders, tearing through cloth and digging into your skin. You yelped, but didn’t halt your milking of his cock, ensuring each spurt of cum landed inside the container. Blood can be felt trickling down your arms, his grip on the verge of crushing bone until he finally lets go after his final spasm. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you sealed the jar and stood up. “Good, now rest,” you said through clenched teeth and turned to leave.

A distorted chirp is heard behind you; you twisted your head to see Hawks rushing forward, and your heart jumps into your throat. Fuck, what did you do? Did turning your back excite him? Running wasn’t a smart option at this point. You held the fresh warm sample close to you as you shut your eyes and braced for whatever the nomu had planned.

But when he was close enough for you to feel his hot breath against your back, nothing happened. Then there were fingers, the same fingers that pierced your flesh with their hooked claws, lightly tracing over the bleeding wounds. It was a touch that was way too gentle for a monster created to kill.

You heard the choked sounds again, and you take a look at his face as he strains to form a word, eventually giving up and mouthing it instead. What you read from his lips was something that hasn’t been said to you during your entire time in this hellish hospital.

‘Sorry.’

He retreats to a corner and curls up his entire body like an animal sleeping in the cold.

You felt like the one unable to speak now, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Eventually you were able to collect yourself. “It’s alright…I guess. Not the first time one of you has handled me roughly. First time one of you showed any regret, though…it’s honestly really freaking me out.” You giggle uncomfortably and decide that you need to hurry up and treat yourself before the scratches get infected. “Rest,” you make sure to command before rushing out of the door.

The restroom held a shabby but functional shower that will rid you of the blood, and the workers were at least generous enough to give you the bare minimum of first-aid along with extra gowns. A couple excruciating dabs of alcohol on the open wounds should clean them up just fine.

You’ll have to think about Hawks’s odd behavior later. You still had other nomu to tend to.

 x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #1: Fierce Wings

Notes: As the host’s original quirk, we don’t expect Raptor to experience any difficulties with Fierce Wings. It should serve more as a refresher for his memory. With a brain more advanced than any other nomu so far, he should still be quick in attacking and reacting. His slightly enlarged wings will allow for greater endurance during flight, and of course, a bigger arsenal of feathers. The feathers on his tail are also to be tested.

The room that Raptor stood in the center of was filled with targets everywhere—some static, some moving in fixed patterns. The humans in coats were a safe distance away and watching him closely.

“Raptor, strike the targets with your feathers.”

He didn’t even have a chance to see which one gave the order before his body was already reacting. It took only seconds for him to pin the locations and time the movements of each target. In a flash, black sharpened feathers darted in multiple directions and pierced every mark in the room.

He didn’t care about impressing the Coats, but he still released a pleased hum after hearing his entire audience gasp. The whole situation felt familiar for some reason. Completing such a test felt so natural to him, he could probably do it blindfolded.

“Again, but this time use only the feathers from your tail.”

He obeyed. With his body lowered and tail raised, it only took two seconds longer to hit each mark.

Several more tests took place. He chopped objects of different materials and varying thickness, sliced apart a combat robot while using only his tail as a blade, and showed off his speed and aerial maneuvers during a small obstacle course.

His brain pulsed painfully. He doesn’t understand why taking so many commands was such a painful struggle.

He didn’t mind the tests much. At least he can actually do something in these test fields, as opposed to sitting in his empty room all day. After the very pleasant time spent with you, it was nothing but hours of pacing, scratching, and grooming out of boredom.

You mentioned there being others like him in those rooms. How do they handle having absolutely nothing to do for so long?

“Its mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?”

He turns to the source of the voice and finds a pair of Coats that stared at him like they were trying to probe his mind with just their eyes. The rest were scrambling about, discussing the excellence of his performance and scribbling notes.

But these two only seemed interested in watching him get lost in his thoughts. He stared back, waiting to see if they had any commands to give.

One of them only smirked as the loyal creature stood at full attention. “Yes, not very hostile, either. Not only is he capable of higher levels of thinking, he is the first High End that doesn’t host the body of some brutish villain. A more complex mind often comes with very human...quirks.”

Raptor blinks. They really enjoyed saying that particular word.

x---x---x---x---x

When you stepped into Hawks’s room for the second morning, you were ready to step right back out when you saw the state of it.

Claw marks everywhere, covering the walls and floor like webs embedded in the surface. Hawks was looking at you closely while stooped low to the floor, but his body appeared relaxed and not ready to lunge.

Not a single hair on you moved when you spoke. “Are you alright?”

He tilted his head at the question, releasing a puff of air through his nostrils before returning to whatever he was trying to do to the floor. He wasn’t violent with his movements. The talons scraped across wide curves, long lines, other patterns with seemingly no goal in mind. Looking around at the other claw marks, you realize that none of them are the angry slashes of a beast throwing a fit. They all looked to have been drawn in a calm matter, twisting and turning into random non-specific shapes.

“Raptor, are you…bored?”

He paused his carving to look at you again and releases a long and drawn-out groan, throat vibrating along with the vocals. Was that a whine?

All of the High Ends had traces of their original personality, but this was on another level. It wasn’t unwelcomed, however. “You know, when the other High Ends don’t have anything to do, they kinda just…I don’t know, it’s like they put their brains on a power-saver mode. You can’t do that?”

His brain responds with several strong pulses. Gross, you’re never going to get used to that pink-gray matter moving around. After what was apparently deep thought, Hawks gave a softer groan and shook his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at this entire situation. “Incredible. You’d think that these smartasses would know that making a creature of extraordinary intelligence—I bet that’s what they said—would mean that your big gross brain needs regular stimulation. Geniuses, my ass.”

Hawks gave a beastly snort. Seems like he agrees with you. You don’t mean to sound like those insane bastards, but it truly was incredible to see a High End that showed interest in casual conversation, not just commands or any opportunity to cause destruction.

Feeling confident that he won’t maul you out of boredom, you finally approach and kneel in front of him. “Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you said with genuine sympathy. “Not like I have any entertainment of my own. My room sucks too. But—“ You held up your fresh new jar. “Maybe we can kill some time together again? God, that makes me sound like a sex worker for you guys.”

You don’t know if he has a sense of humor, but he clearly understands your hints and perks up. He stands so that your face is leveled with his groin, black scaly hands tugging at his shorts until a loud rip causes him to grunt in frustration. You giggle and decide to help tear the rest off. “They were just shitty rags, anyway,” you said.

He was already growing right in front of you. Your hand wraps around him for a second time, thankful that it doesn’t startle him again. He tenses for only a moment, but quickly relaxes when your stroking begins, a large pair of testes swinging freely now that there was no cloth to contain them.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re not even built as big as the other nomu, but those are still impressive. I guess you’ve got plenty of samples to give, huh? Good, ‘cause I’ve gotta do this every damn day.”

You received a purr and a swish of his tail in response. It was a one-sided conversation, but it was still pretty refreshing. Milking the other High Ends was an uncomfortable task, one where you always had to be prepared with a loud and strong “No” or “Stop” whenever their excitement evolved into aggression. Every minute was tense, and despite your occasional wish for release from this shitty life, you didn’t want a violent end at the hands of these sex-hungry monstrosities.

His reactions weren’t too different from yesterday; he was being more vocal and less shy about physically expressing his pleasure. The massive black wings blew your hair back with each powerful beat, and his tail was thrashing about even more wildly.

His deep purrs weren’t unpleasant, slowly changing into higher mewls as he got closer. “Come on, just do what you did last time.”

And so he did, delivering another fresh sample straight into your container with a warped cry. His hands lingered right over you, clenched in tight fists that surely had those sharp talons digging into his rough palms. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he was trying not to grab you this time. Would he really care about that without being told?

Hot, tired breaths blew into your hair as he recovered from his climax. Then, with his head reared back, he let out a yawn. You even heard a faint little whine similar to a dog escape him. It would have been pretty endearing if it weren’t for just how widely his mouth was opened, displaying the scary set of teeth within. Does he really use those in combat?

With his still-dripping member going flaccid, he returned to the spot he was scratching at, lazily tracing the markings that were already made. The thought of him doing this for another ten hours or so made you frown. They probably wouldn’t care if you stayed in this room a little longer than usual, would they?

Shrugging, you kneeled down again, this time resting beside him. Hawks stopped and looked at you curiously.

“Sharpen one of your feathers and give it to me,” you ordered.

Almost immediately a feather appears right in front of you. You grab it, taking care not to cut your fingers on the razor-like barbs. When’s the last time you’ve held a writing utensil? Shifting awkwardly next to the large nomu, you took the quill and began scratching lines into the floor. The hot heavy breaths and overall warmth from his close presence was hard to ignore. You’ve never been this close to a nomu for any reason that wasn’t jerking them off. He remained calm, watching your hand closely until you finished drawing a small grid.

“You know how to play tic tac toe?”

He blinked.

“…Okay, it’s pretty simple. You fill a space with either an ‘O’ or an ‘X’…”

Somehow, teaching a killer monster how to play a common children’s game was weirder than making him jizz. He caught on quickly, favoring X’s. You were winning each game at first, but once he figured out all of the possible patterns, every game was ending in a draw. You drew larger grids, sometimes having both of you move to a different spot for more room. Most matches were still draws, but he will sometimes catch you by surprise and scratch a row of three X’s that you didn’t notice in time, his tail swishing out of what may have been pride or enjoyment.

After a while you decided to show him other shapes. Maybe he can experiment with them more when you were gone. Who knows, soon he might be drawing more than random lines. He wasn’t bad company, to be honest. Then again, your standards have taken a nosedive ever since you winded up in this facility of unethical science. It was nice to spend time with anything that didn’t want to just tear you in half with a massive cock.

Only when you felt like you overstayed your welcome and stood back up did you realize how much of a mess you both made of the floor and walls.

“Oops, it looks like a bunch of kids got in here,” you said while looking at the collage of shapes and lines. Hopefully the doctors won’t find this too strange; he was pretty intelligent, after all. “Well, it’s about time I take my leave. You keep practicing your doodling skills, I guess.” With the jar of white fluid back in your arms, you headed on out, but a large hand grabs onto your arm.

Hawks’s yellow eyes were wider than usual, a scraping, guttural noise leaving his throat as he toyed with his voice.

“Sss…..aaayy…” Just like the other High Ends, his vocals were warped and all-around unsettling, but you could hear it, traces of the playful and smooth-talking hero that you used to watch during interviews and talk shows. It was barely there, but it was still there.

“St…aay.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that graced your face. He was looking at you like a puppy. “Sorry, but I don’t know what they’d do if they notice me staying here for too long,” you explained.

He winced from the strain of his vocal chords. “Come…back?”

You shook your head. “There are cameras in the halls. I shouldn’t be going in and out of your room.” You tensed under his grip, afraid that refusing him like this will anger him. He has been very docile so far, but you don’t know what it takes to set him off.

Thankfully, he lets go of you and backs away with another one of those whines. For God’s sake, were you really feeling bad about leaving one of these...things?

To be fair, in the two days you’ve known him, Hawks was already much different from the others. Hell, he hasn’t even shown any true signs of aggression yet. The other High Ends are always expressing some desire to attack or break something. You thought it came naturally with all of the engineering. For something that was apparently supposed to be their finest specimen yet, Hawks’s behavior wasn’t fitting for his job at all. You just played tic tac fucking toe with him like two kids on a sidewalk.

That’s probably why you found yourself trying to reassure him. “We can play some more tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

An odd clicking noise was made—he sure had a variety of sounds reminiscent of birds—and he returned to his favorite corner, hooking his talons into an empty spot on the wall to begin yet another drawing.

The slightest hint of warmth could be felt in your chest as you left him to his creative tasks. This place sucks and has deprived you of everything good in life for…you’ve lost track of how long. You’ll take whatever you can get to make things more bearable around here.

And if that ‘whatever’ turns out to be a former top hero who was killed and resurrected into a horrid experiment, then so be it.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #2: Reptile

Notes: The Reptile quirk will make for a great upgrade to Raptor’s physical capabilities. He may possess wings, but the ability to climb almost any surface will be helpful in enclosed areas and improve his overall performances in stealth. A flexible spine allows him to comfortably be both bipedal and quadrupedal, the digitigrade legs granting him greater speed and jumps.

Also, someone needs to send in a request for a new pair of shorts for the damned thing.

There were many more instructions to follow this time. The Coats were bombarding him with one command after another.

“Climb up here.”

“Slash this with your talons.”

“Crush this with your hands. Try again with your feet.”

His head throbbed painfully as the voices took hold of his movements. They pushed his endurance to the limit when they made him run on a machine, first on his legs, then again on all fours. He was only running in place, but it was much more satisfying than pacing back and forth in that boring room.

It turns out that he can scale walls and ceilings with little effort thanks to the pads on his hands and feet. Maybe he can try drawing on the ceiling when he returns to his room. The only downside was that you wouldn’t be able to sit up there with him.

The Coats observed behind the (assumed) safety of a wall of thick glass. Each one possessed a small microphone so that their voice can still be heard clearly through the speaker on his side of the room.

They always watched him with cold and calculating eyes, and only spoke to him when telling him to do something. You feared him; his feathers easily sensed your tension, unsteady breaths, and quickening heartbeats, yet you still took the time to be friendly. And what you do with those hands…he wishes you’d make him feel that good all day. Yes, his room was small and boring, but it did have you.

“Raptor, to the opposite end of the room,” a Coat ordered. The sensation of being pulled by his entire head forced him to take his place at the wall, staring straight ahead at the door.

His wings twitched from a powerful approaching presence, feathers instinctively sharpening at the possible incoming threat. The door was opened by a small Coat to make way for a beast, a beast with a large powerful form and exposed brain just like him.

Vacant eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through him like it was dead on its feet.

“This is one of Cloner’s spawn, yes?” A female Coat spoke with her mouth close to the mic. He supposes that they don’t care if he hears them.

“Yes. His offspring always turn out even more unstable than him. This one can’t even produce a single proper clone, and no additional quirks were inherited. It’s useless.”

“Well, at least it’ll help us in its final moments.” The man leaned into his mic. “Raptor, kill the nomu. Do not use your wings.”

The woman followed up with her own order. “Nomu, kill Raptor.”

Blood was suddenly rushing through his body twice as fast, the reds of his eyes appearing and locking onto the target that was already charging at him with a horrifying wail.

Kill it.

He ducked under the bigger creature’s closing arms that would have likely trapped him into a crushing hug, causing his opponent to lose balance and fall forward. His hand shot up and dug his talons into thick flesh, slicing it from its chest all the way down to its stomach as he ran beneath. Rising from under the nomu’s legs, he turned to see his gruesome work.

Instead, he sees the blur of a fist right before it smashes into his face and sends him flying. His back colliding hard with the wall accompanied the shattering of his jaw. There was no time to wait for his vision to clear up, scrambling out of the path of the charging silhouette before it slams into the now-empty spot, the impact shaking the entire room.

The pain only intensified when his face and spine began to shift, mending itself back together while he tried his hardest to keep his eye on the much more violent beast. A ghoulish moan was heard as it straightened itself, and Raptor could see the large gash that should have easily disemboweled it already closing up.

Ah, so they can both heal.

It was already charging straight at him again. The thing was fast and powerful, but it was acting like it had a one-track mind, sticking to a simple strategy of running towards him and dealing whatever damage it could.

His wings twitched, but there was a barrier in his mind preventing them from moving. Damned Coats.

The fight became a game of evasion, darting and dashing around the bigger and stronger nomu’s swings and countering with deep slashes. Wearing it down was impossible with such rapid healing, every cut he brought upon its skin was quickly sewn shut.

His only chance was to attack its brain, but the nomu had enough sense to protect its one true vulnerable spot, nearly crushing Raptor’s arm into paste after an attempt to sink his talons into the soft matter.

So he kept dodging, and dodging, until something inside the creature just...snapped. Perhaps it was out of frustration in failing to land any hits, but its haunting moans and wails soon became full on screams. Tightly clenched fists pounded into the floor, the stone floor crumbling under the sudden tantrum. Raptor stood and watched, wings tensing from the burst of tortured emotions.

“Hm, you weren’t exaggerating about the meltdowns,” he heard one of the Coats say, her voice as dull as ever.

“What an embarrassment. Damn thing can’t even carry out a simple fight.”

Raptor looked behind the glass of spectators and saw faces of disappointment.

“A complete waste.”

“Cloner’s children are all wasted potential.”

“What a sad display.”

“Pathetic.”

He looked back at the creature that was now writhing and flailing, its skin oozing a blob that throbbed and squirmed, like it was trying its hardest to take a shape. 

But the bubbly pulses stop and the dripping mass melts into a lifeless puddle. The nomu continues to scream after its failed attempt at using its quirk. Raptor’s gut twists with pity.

A sad display, indeed.

“Raptor! Did you forget your orders? Kill him!” 

The sharp command smothers all feelings of sympathy, and before Raptor knew it, he was running toward the tormented creature, each feather on his tail sharpening with every step. Ducking under a blind swipe, the black spear thrusted forward and pierced its brain with a sickening shlunk.

The thrashing was reduced to short spasms as the nomu choked out its final groans, its terrified eyes glazing over when the last traces of life faded. 

The tail was yanked out and shook off the blood and spongy brain matter to splatter on the ground. Raptor gave a soft whine of distress.

“Well, that was all rather underwhelming.”

“Yep, that didn’t exactly challenge Raptor at all.”

“I’m concerned about his lack of aggression. Did you all see him hesitate?”

“Most likely just confusion and caution after witnessing such a sudden breakdown.”

So many voices, so many comments; Raptor paid no attention to them. His mind was on the corpse that continued to bleed heavily from the large gash in its head. Raptor was the stronger nomu. He won.

Was he supposed to feel proud? Victorious?

“He’s a very smart one. Did you see the markings in his room? He and his harvester have been...bonding.” That voice...Raptor recognized it as the Coat that showed up every morning to retrieve him from his room to enter these test rooms. “I can’t decide if I like the idea of a friendly nomu.”

The woman dismissed his worries. “As long as he knows to kill when he’s told, his behavior shouldn’t matter. But it might benefit us to test his relationship with his owner after we’ve finished observing his quirks.”

His throat vibrates as a low growl passes through.

Raptor doesn’t like it here.

x---x---x---x---x

Maybe it’s just because Friday (you’re pretty sure it’s Friday on your self-made calendar) tends to be your busiest day of the week, or that your wrist is beginning to wear down from the many giant dicks you’ve been stroking. Or maybe it’s just one of those days when you remember just how shitty this life was. Whatever it was, you weren’t in one of your best moods today. 

That’s why you felt just the smallest hint of excitement when you reached Hawks’s door. Yes, it’s weird, but he was the closest thing you had to a companion around here, alright? 

The last thing you expected was to open the door to an empty room, at least it appeared that way until you saw the black creature resting on the ceiling.

“Aah!” You yelp and drop the jar out of fright, causing Hawks to jump from the sudden noise. You curse and quickly pick up the container and scan it for any cracks while he gracefully twists his body to drop on the floor with a thud. He was as graceful as a cat...a cat that can comfortably sit upside down.

Relieved to see the jar in one piece, you turned your attention back to the waiting High End. “I didn’t know you could climb like that.”

His wings fluttered at the comment and he raised his palms right in front of your face. Ah yes, a hand. Very lovely. But looking more closely, you could see a difference in texture on the rounded pads of his fingertips. “Ooh, little sticky hairs, huh?”

He gave a click of what you assumed to be approval, tail swinging behind him.

“So I guess you’re not just born knowing everything your body can do. Sounds troublesome.” There’s something you wanted to do, something you wouldn’t ever consider doing with the other nomu even in your dreams. “May I, uh, touch them?” You held up your own hands innocently.

Hawks cocked his head, a gesture that you’re always going to find kinda cute, before grunting and bringing his larger hands to yours. All ten of your fingers made contact, and the slightest shiver shot down your spine. 

It’s the first time you’ve ever touched one of these monsters outside of jerking them to collect semen. Your curiosity was always there, but the disgust and fear you often felt when in their presence fueled the overpowering desire to hurry up, get the damn job done, and get away from them as quickly as possible.

You never imagined that you’d be standing face to face with a High End, feeling the surprisingly soft pads on his scaly hands, his breaths deep and hot against your face as those red irises watched your expressions. He was still very intimidating with his tall form, glowing glare, and the large imposing pair of wings. But those eyes—they contained too much intelligence and emotion in them.

Too human. It was as uncanny as it was fascinating. 

Only when his eyes close and he begins to croon softly do you realize that one of your hands have moved up to touch his face. The black skin feels extra thick when you gently press his cheek, strong and leathery. He leans in and brings his head closer to give you better access, and you can’t help but reward the reaction with scratches against his jaw and chin.

“You know, you’ve been doing a shitty job of acting like the ultimate killer,” you said when he purrs happily. 

The purr morphs into a disgruntled whine. “Don’t...like.”

Your hand pauses, hoping for him to elaborate as well as he could. “Don’t like…?” You encouraged him.

He was still struggling to work his vocal chords, but at least he seemed to be showing less pain. “Don’t like...k-killiiing.”

What?

“Raptor, that’s...you know...the very thing you were made for, and you don’t like doing it?” Not that you’re complaining about his gentle nature, but hearing a damn nomu say that he dislikes killing might be the most ludicrous thing you’ve heard here, even more so than the first time you were told to make an abomination cum.

His entire body stiffens, and you couldn’t help but tense up as well. “Maaade-” He makes a harsh hacking sound. “-to kill?”

Shit. You panic and attempt to backpedal. “Not to actually kill. You’re supposed to be, you know, the strongest creature that’s capable of killing whenever he wants...if you, uh, wanted to.” Yeah, that sounds good enough.

It appears to do the trick, his body relaxing again. “Don’t like,” he repeated more smoothly this time.

“I know, I know. Killing sucks. Just don’t tell the assholes in labcoats that, alright? Now calm down.” You return to your ministrations, this time using both hands to rub and scratch his face. His eyes drift shut again as your hands trail down to his slightly elongated neck, brushing past his steady pulse.

Reaching his collar and then his chest, you discover that he’s solid muscle everywhere. He may not be on the verge of bursting out of his own skin like the others, but he could no doubt snap you like a twig just as easily. You feel his chest heave from a deep breath, the strength emanating from his body making you shiver. You shush him when he jolts as your hands reach his pronounced abs, pushing against the hard muscle until you finally arrive at his groin.

You snorted at the new pair of shorts. “Another pair, huh? At least these look a little less ragged.”

You pulled his large member out for the third time. Why did you have to do this daily? What could they possibly be doing with so many jars of jizz? Making cakes?

Sighing, you brushed off the soreness of your arm and wrist and began to pump his ridged length. “Just do me a favor and try to cum quickly, alright?” 

He made a rather sad groan at that, curling into himself so that his face was close to yours. His sharp breaths were loud in your ears.

You couldn’t help but smile even through the strain of your muscles. “What, you wanna make this last? Do you know how many dicks I’ve had to tend to today? Cut me some slack, we’re gonna be doing this everyday, anyway.”

Hawks purrs before that monstrous voice shakes your body, his hot breath warming the side of your face and neck. “Feel gooood.”

The primal lust dripping from him triggers a pulse of warmth inside you. You...can’t remember the last time you’ve felt that, and it’s just a tad strange that a nomu caused it. Were you really that starved for attention? “I-” You cleared your throat after an awkward voice crack. “I know, handjobs tend to feel good. But please be a good boy and help me out here.”

He gives a puff that blows your hair back, but he complies. The big sweaty face that buries itself in your neck is so distracting that you almost forget to get your jar ready and fill it with the incoming spurts of semen. There, the final sample of the day has been collected. Now, if you could just push the panting fiend off of you before he starts drooling on your shoulder.

Something warm and slimy touches your neck. It has you pulling back so quickly that you almost fall and spill the vile essence all over you before the jar could be properly sealed.

Hawks shrinks back and quickly withdraws the indigo tongue into his mouth, looking down in what appears to be shame. You touch the licked spot, the thick saliva coating your fingers. 

“Sss-sorrry.” Regret can be heard clearly in his droning voice.

“No, it’s...it’s okay,” you stammer. The sensation lingers, and then ignites a spark somewhere inside you.

A sick, disgusting, and absolutely fucked up spark. The next thing you say should horrify you, but instead you feel nothing but a twisted form of anticipation. “You can...um...do that again, if you want.”

His tail slapped the floor in excitement before he slowly closed the distance again, cautiously looking into your eyes before his tongue slithers out and caresses the same wet space.

The smooth muscle is hot against you, extending to inhuman lengths to explore your neck. The slick sounds as it slid across your skin should have grossed you out—all of this should be grossing you out, so you don’t understand why you tilt your head back to give him more room. He licks up and down your throat slowly to savor your taste, breathing heavily and releasing a stale stench from his open maw. You imagined the breath of a previously dead man to smell a hundred times worse, frankly. 

With your neck completely drenched in his cooling slobber, he ventures upward, purring louder than ever as he tastes the flesh of your jaw. The tapered end of his tongue begins to curiously flick at your earlobe before circling around the shell of your ear. He seems to take a liking to the flabby cartilage and laps at it playfully while giving the occasional nip and suck and god, it’s all heard so fucking clearly, every schlick and smack traveling right through your canal and setting off questionable reactions all over you. Your hands are clenched and held against your chest, but you don’t tell him to stop.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

The licking moves to your cheek, lapping at it shortly before moving to your pursed lips.

‘This is fucked up beyond words.’

You flinch when the clammy tongue brushes over your lips, at first smoothing over them lightly, possibly testing to see how you’d react. His face is so close, your noses almost touching. To allow a nomu this close to you, touching you like this…

When you make no move of resistance, he gets braver and laps at your mouth with controlled eagerness. Your eyes close to hide from the otherworldly gaze, but your lips feel even more sensitive to the weight that continues flicking and pressing at them, covering them in hot saliva. Several times does it briefly part your lips and graze your teeth, making you swallow at the thought of…

‘Don’t do that.’

Hawks pauses when you open up for him, but gives a gleeful chirp and snakes his way into your inviting mouth.

‘I’m really letting him do this.’

Clawed hands grab your arms a little too tightly and hold you in place. It hurts, yet all you can focus on is the flexible muscle exploring your mouth. It rubbed against the roof, pushed at the inside of your cheeks, and eventually stroked and curled around your own tongue.

‘You’re sick.’

But you’ve been sick ever since you got here, haven’t you?

When his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to place your hands around his head, digging your fingers into his...hair? Plumage? Was his hair always this feather-like?

A high-pitched sound of surprise leaves him when you try to pull him in closer. He quickly complies, closing the distance until his lips and mouth are covering yours.

It completely smothers your senses. You see his black wings expand to slowly encase both of you. You hear the wet friction of his tongue and the hungry growls that roll from his throat. You smell sweat and blood, briefly wondering just what exactly was he made to do during those ‘tests’. You taste the thick and flavorless saliva that makes you gag at first, but becomes easier to swallow as you take in more. And most of all, you feel him slowly moving in and out of your wide open mouth, the thrusting motion forcing your thighs to rub together in response to the growing heat threatening to consume you.

You snap out of it before that can happen.

Hawks pulls away when he hears your choked sounds of protest, your hands suddenly on his chest and pushing. Fresh oxygen rushes back into your lungs when his tongue leaves your mouth and retreats back into his. The warmth between your legs doesn’t fade away. Everything that just happened, everything you just allowed this monster to do fully sinks in.

And you fucking enjoyed it.

You back away from him as quickly as you can, ignoring his confused groans. A wave of nausea sweeps over you like a powerful gust that churns your stomach.

“Rest. I need to go.” It was all you said before you picked up the forgotten jar and fled the room, refusing to falter from the sorrowful whines behind you.

The urge to spew the little food you’ve been fed throughout the day all over the hallway floor is strong, but you manage to hold out until you reach the toilet in your room, quickly kneeling and hurling. It wasn’t much, but it still left you teary-eyed and with a burning throat.

What did you do? Just what the hell did you do that warranted getting kidnapped, having your nice comfortable life stolen from you, and the only way to cope was by making out with a horrid creature? You jolt from a painful mix of a sob and a hiccup. It’s been weeks since your last breakdown, but this new discovery was another hard blow to your sanity and pride. You let the tears flow as you flushed away your mess, moving over to your bed and collapsing onto the thin mattress. Fuck this facility. Fuck the scum that created all of this.

And fuck the throbbing wetness between your legs that still won’t go away.

Your sobs transform into humorless laughs. You’re going to have to get rid of the throbbing yourself, aren’t you? They won’t arrive to collect all of your samples for about another thirty minutes, so that should be enough time...

You pulled down the thin blue pants and rubbed your fingers over the slick that had gathered from what had transpired in Hawks’s room. It’s true, you’ve been doing nothing but sick shit since you’ve been tossed into this new life. Why do you even still hold on to feelings like shame and disgust? What good will they do you here?

So you try to drown out the voice of your conscience as you laid back, succumbing to the wonderfully twisted thoughts of a nomu’s tongue.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Examination

Quirk #3: Regeneration

Quirk#4: Heat Resistance

Notes: Our most advanced specimens deserve the best healing quirks we have to offer. Raptor is no exception. It will also make up for his lack of weight and hard muscle, not that he should ever be mistaken as frail. Most importantly, this should accelerate the regrowth of his feathers and supply him with an endless arsenal. We do not want to risk his regeneration being hindered by burns. After all, it was fire that led to the host’s death. This is why we have added a quirk that should make it almost completely fireproof.

The only people that Raptor disliked more than the Coats, were the Masks. The Coats saw him as nothing more than an attack dog that is expected to obey every command. But the humans in masks...to them, he was just a fleshy object to be dissected and analyzed.

They were poking and cutting to their heart’s content. His mind screamed to get away from the assortment of blades and needles that hovered over him, sinking into his skin in various places while he could only writhe against the cuffs of the metal table he was strapped to. He doesn’t believe it’s their intention to test every ounce of his willpower, but that sure as hell is what they’re doing right now as he tries, really tries not to use his feathers out of desperation.

“Excellent. The cuts begin healing the moment they’re made,” one of them observes. “Try deeper incisions. Maybe I should try removing one of its eyes.”

Raptor’s heartbeat was booming in his ears after hearing those words.

A younger Mask has been flinching from every one of the nomu’s movements. “Shouldn’t we sedate it or something? What if it lashes out?”

“Stop panicking. A nomu won’t hurt anyone without orders, though his responses to pain are stronger than I expected. We may have to fix that.”

Raptor wouldn’t mind that at all. He hisses and howls as he’s taken apart and mended back together in a torturous loop. His brain is throbbing so strongly one would worry that it might burst. He fights to think through all of the agony. 

He thinks of your touch. He thinks of your taste. Were you repulsed by what he did that morning? 

Sharp pain shot through his wings when his feathers were being forcefully yanked out, his teeth on the verge of shattering from his tightly clenched jaws.

“Perfect! Look at that, they’re already growing back in.” 

They were. He could feel the fresh plumes pushing through his skin. The regeneration did well in preventing any real damage, but it didn’t make the violent tearing of his feathers any easier to bear.

The cruel assault on his wings and tail eventually ended, black fluff littering the room’s floor. He remembers when you mentioned other nomu being capable of shutting down whenever they wanted. What he wouldn’t give to just turn off like a light switch right now.

“Alright, it’s time to move on to his heat resistance. Get the torch.”

The what? Raptor searched the fragments of his knowledge; most words were familiar to him, they just took a while to be remembered from...something. He doesn’t understand how he already knows so much, even though his subconsciousness needs time to dust everything off.

One of the Masks was holding a small object that ended in a tube. With a push of a button, a small blue flame appeared.

The glowing yellow eyes that were normally slits were suddenly wider than he thought possible, every part of him hyper focused on the small fire that was getting too close to his sore wings. His mind recovered a new piece of information:

Blue flames are to be feared.

He was thrashing the second the searing pain was felt, fighting to escape, to get away from the blue death that threatened to incinerate his wings again. He has felt this before. He doesn’t want to burn again.

Panic consumed him, unaware of how much his feathers have sharpened as he beats his wings and tail against the table. He can barely hear the Masks’ frantic voices over the ear-splitting screech, a screech that he realizes is coming from his own strained throat.

“–ptor, I SAID STOP!”

“–y arm! Fuck, my arm is bleeding bad–”

“–old you he’d attack! Why is he reacting so–”

“–atives! Into his neck! Hurry!”

Needles are being jammed into his neck, the chemicals working quickly in sapping away his strength, limbs becoming too heavy to move, and his thoughts were too cloudy to even continue panicking. The scorching heat was still present in his wing, but he can still feel the presence of all of his feathers. There was no foul smell of burnt plumage.

“Aaaugh, my arm...” In the corners of his vision, Raptor saw one of the Masks hunched over and clutching a blood-soaked arm. He didn’t mean to hurt any of them.

“Shut up and go patch yourself up.” An older man motioned the rest to come closer to the calmed nomu, which they cautiously obeyed. “Do you all see it? His feathers aren’t damaged at all. Perfect.”

“But why didn’t he stop resisting after you ordered him several times? And why was his reaction to pain so strong?”

The elder grimaced behind his mask and shook his head. “Its pain tolerance is laughable. There’s no use in a nomu having such sensitivity. We’ll need to perform an operation that will dull his nerves.” 

They scrambled around the table, gathering new tools and focusing the creaky hanging light on Raptor’s face. He was too doped up to even react to the harsh brightness.

“And if he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

The nomu tried to make a sound of protest, but in his dazed state he could give no more than a pathetic whimper. He was rather thankful of the drugs for making him unable to notice just how many needles were sinking into his brain, or the blades that opened up the rest of his head, keeping the tools in place to prevent his skull from instantly healing. It still hurt, a lot. But as they tweaked his pulsing organ, injecting unknown fluids inside, the pain began to dim. Raptor would have celebrated and attempted to wag his tail in relief.

But it wasn’t the only thing that was fading. The coldness of the metal at his back was becoming distant, the chill in the air of the room was suddenly so faint that it no longer made him shiver. 

He wanted it all to hurt less, but he still wanted to feel. 

He has no idea how much time had passed once they finally finished and allowed his bone and flesh to close up. The old Mask stared down at him, gloves drenched in thick crimson.

“That should do it. Going by your weaker reactions, the operation was a success and you now feel less sensation. Good.”

‘No. Not good.’ It’s what he was tempted to say, but Raptor didn’t want to utter a single word to anyone besides you, and the cruel man’s recent threat of robbing him of his free will ensured that he keeps his mouth shut.

Raptor hates it here.

x---x---x---x---x

There were fresh claw marks covering the walls of Hawks’s room, and this time they were angry. The drawings and games you made together were literally slashed out, with spots of blood spread out all over the floor.

He was curled up in a corner, wings concealing most of his shaking form.

“Raptor.” Firmly addressing him is usually all it takes to gain his full attention, just like any other nomu, High End or not.

Hawks doesn’t respond at all.

That’s new...and very unnerving.

You called him again. The mass of feathers didn’t budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He had clearly just thrown a violent tantrum, and you don’t know if he has fully calmed down yet. Approaching him is too risky, but the damn nomu won’t even acknowledge you. So you’ll have to get through him in a more natural way. 

“Raptor, is everything alright? Do you, um, need some space? I can come back a little later...maybe another thirty minutes or so.” You offered, your body slightly twisting toward the door, ready to bolt if he decided to attack. You ignored the cold hard fact that the door and your legs would do little in protecting you from him.

His tail slowly uncurls like a timid snake, wings following suit and revealing his shrunken form. He was hugging himself tightly, talons peeling the skin off of his biceps. His head hung low, but you can see the spot of red in each eye looking right at you. He looked like an angry and frightened child, and his pitiful plea didn’t help matters.

“Don’t...go.”

His vulnerable state quelled your fears, but you still took caution. “Can I come closer?”

He looks down at the floor for a moment, seemingly pondering the question, before straightening his posture and nodding. 

You follow the routine you’ve been getting used to with him, setting aside the jar and taking some time to talk. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

It was supposed to compel him to instantly explain the issue, or at least attempt to with his awkward speech. You instead see him flinch and growl lowly, as if he didn’t appreciate you making demands. Just what is going on with him?

Your anxiety was probably visible since he quickly switched back to a less aggressive stance. You wince when he drags a claw through his flesh, blood leaking out for only a second before the wound instantly repairs itself. “Can’t feel.” He weeps with cracks in his unnatural voice. At least he’s dragging out his words less and sounds less like a moaning zombie.

“You can’t feel?” You repeated, edging closer and placing a hand over the healed spot. Another growl, louder this time, scares you into pulling away. But his bigger hand seizes yours and presses it hard onto the black skin. You feel the tremors that begin to wrack his body and try to stay calm in the wake of his growing distress. 

His voice becomes only more broken. “Can’t feel it! Can’t feel you!”

You find yourself shushing him, holding your free hand up like you’re trying to calm a panicking animal. You cup the side of his face, but that seems to upset him even more. “You can’t feel my hand?”

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, squeezing your hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. How freely he can emote still freaks you out a bit, face looking on the verge of shedding tears. Everything about him continues to be so surreal.

“Raptor, you’re a shitty nomu,” you told him with a small smile. “Not that I mind.”

And there goes that cute head tilt. The thought of him being released in a city to wreak havoc, just like the one that attacked Endeavor and...him, feels less possible after every meeting.

He was still powerful and potentially dangerous, if the state of the walls were anything to go by. You really shouldn’t be pushing your luck or his temper. On the other hand, you did decide yesterday that from now on, you are going to embrace the depraved dumbass within you. Hawks stiffens and starts to slowly pull back, but your hand makes its way to the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I just want to see if you can feel any of this.”

With no more hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his shock through a surprised grunt. For a minute, you simply cover his rough lips with kisses while he stays completely still, eyes looking on the verge of bulging right out of their sockets. It looked downright silly. Why was he so shocked by a simple kiss anyway, after the way you let him ravage your mouth yesterday? 

Your lips pause when you remember the distraught sounds he made that morning as he watched you rush out of the room. That’s right.

“Hey,” you murmur against him. “Sorry for taking off like that last time. Just...don’t worry about it, okay.” He released a hot breath onto your face. Your trapped hand is finally freed from his iron grip, numb and stiff, but you keep your attention on the motionless nomu. “We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, but I want you t-mmf!”

He suddenly went forward and attacked your lips, aggressively mimicking your movements with enough force to bruise. You try to keep up and calm his pace, sighing into his mouth once his lips finally begin to slow down. He’s clumsy like you expected, but his intelligence shows when he tries to follow your lead and quickly learns the intimate dance of your mouths. The occasional swipe of that blasted tongue across your lip makes you gasp, and then you feel big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, the beats of his excited wings, the throaty growls that rattle your entire being…

You can feel yourself heating up again already.

“Mmm, Raptor...wait,” you manage to say between kisses, your hands pushing against his chest. He gives a grating sound of annoyance, but pulls away like you wished. You were suddenly hyper aware of his size and strength – this monster that was holding you closely and taking care not to harm you. If any other nomu had you like this, they undoubtedly wouldn’t have stopped.

“So, did you feel any of that?” Your hand travels down to his groin and rubs at the bulge that still had a lot of growing to do. “Do you feel that?”

To your dismay, he shakes his head. “No,” he groans as his wings droop closer to the floor. 

It has you stumped. How are you supposed to please him when his whole body is numb?

“But…” He licks his lips slowly. “Can still taste. Tastes so good.”

When you let him lap at your lips again, he twitches beneath the ragged cloth.

You put two and two together, and the realization makes you gulp. And ache.

Remember, shame is useless here.

He allows you to back away and create some distance. The sight before you is frightening on its own: The sharp stare of the raven-winged fiend while surrounded by the deep marks of its outburst would do well in intimidating any sane individual. Remembering what exactly he is makes you pause only for a second, your hands grabbing the bottom of your thin blue shirt and lifting it before your pesky conscience can even get a word in.

Hawks’s wings flare out slightly when your breasts are revealed to him, talons clicking against the floor as he shuffles about, at a loss of how to react. Relieved that you haven’t been pounced on immediately, you lean down to remove your pants next, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you pull the garment down and step out of them. They never supplied you with underwear, so with your two articles of clothing removed, you were completely nude in front of the dangerous nomu.

At first you both just stared at each other, until he finally came forward to scan your body more closely, mindful of how nervous you were. The tension made you almost choke and cough on your words.

“I-if you want to…taste more of me, go ahead.” You didn’t mean to squeak out those last two words. You blame it on the chilly air.

The hands that take hold of your hips feel extra hot, along with the breath that grazes your chest. The blue tongue slides past his lips and extends to press against the spot right over your pounding heart, then moving smoothly up the column of your neck and your cheek in one long swipe, the wet trail making you shudder. The mouth ventures close to your ear to utter the word that you remember repeating to him on the first day you got him off.

“Calm.”

It’s followed by a rolling purr that eases you into doing just that. The humming continues while he eyes your breasts, nipples already pert from being exposed to the air. Even in your more relaxed state, the sudden lick across your tit makes your breath hitch. He seems to enjoy your response and repeats the action, giving it several more laps before wrapping around the entirety of the soft globe like a tentacle, squeezing gently.

“Ah, Raptor,” you moan when the tip of the tongue flicks at your nipple, sending the tiniest of jolts through you. “Damn, where did you learn to do that?” 

He answers with nothing more than a groan as he continues to show off his tongue’s flexibility. It coils and swirls around the skin until every inch of it is covered in his saliva, making you even more sensitive to the cold air. Satisfied with his work, he moves on to repeat the motions with your other breast.

The pleasure was soothing, like a massage…if the masseuse had sticky boneless limbs. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, letting yourself enjoy the vile act of a monster sampling your taste. 

His mouth suddenly engulfs you, the damp heat adding to the ongoing feeling of his tongue dancing around your tit. The purrs abruptly become a powerful vibration that electrifies your skin and brings forth your moisture to drip and run down your thighs.

But Hawks suddenly pulls away and stares at you intensely, the glower snapping you out of your daze.

“What is it?” You were getting nervous again. Did one of your reactions irritate him?

He breathes in, again and again, sniffing at the air for something. The swaying tail hints that whatever he smells is exciting him. His head lowers in pursuit of the scent and stops at your womanly mound to take a long whiff at the spicy aroma emanating from your cunt.

With his breath now blowing right against your sex and increasing your arousal, your juices trickled freely onto the floor and for him to see. The clawed hands on your hips held you steady, preventing you from collapsing from the nerve-racking anticipation that had you shaking all over. At no point in your life have you ever felt this exposed, being ogled by a pair of eyes in which the irises were bigger than you’ve ever seen them, mesmerized by the source of the delicious smell.

The tongue slips between your thighs before you could even prepare yourself, stretching across the entirety of your lips, over your entrance, nearly reaching your ass before it pulls back toward his mouth, the rubbing of the silky muscle creating buzzes of pleasure. Looking down gives you the unpleasant view of his brain, but you also get to see him swallow and savor your taste, humming deeply in approval before salivating with the need to drink up more.

“Good.”

He doesn’t wait for your response – his face is already being shoved into you, and you’re suddenly bombarded with delightful hot sensations all over your pussy. The ravenous organ travels up and down your folds, collecting every drop of your sweet nectar while you could do nothing but spread your legs to give him more leeway – God you’re such a whore – and cover your mouth in the hope that no passerbys hear your moans in the room. 

When your legs officially become jelly and can no longer support you, Hawks tires of holding you up and allows you to fall back a little too hard onto the floor, the impact making you wince. Any other time, he probably would have at least made a sound of apology, but your sopping wet pussy has stolen his attention. He wastes no time in lifting your hips up toward his waiting mouth, now utilizing his lips along with his tongue to loudly slurp up your essence.

His vicious hunger has you seeing stars. Wings open up and expand around both of you like black curtains that darken your vision, like a bird of prey mantling over a hard-earned meal. The only thing you can clearly see between your legs are the eerie glows of red and yellow; the glare of a demon that seeks to devour you from the inside. He starts to suck your folds dry, growling as he inspects every inch of the ravaged honeypot until his lips brush against your neglected clit.

A muffled “fuck!” passes between your fingers, both of your hands tightly clamped over your mouth. The reaction surprises him, and to his delight, it triggers more of your nectar to flow. The most efficient gag wouldn’t have been enough to suppress your scream when he sucked hard on your sensitive bud.

You couldn’t help it. Fighting past the paralyzing pleasure, your hands blindly grab at his head and accidentally bury your fingers into a soft squishy brain. The discomfort makes him shake his head and groan in irritation, raising his head and narrowing those menacing eyes at you as a silent warning.

“Hah...shit...I’m sor–AH! Fuck-oh my god....” He’s already attacking your clit again before you can finish your apology. All he cares about at the moment is your taste, and not even you were going to interrupt him. The surrounding wings occasionally twitch and shudder around you, vibrating along with your approaching climax. But the second you feel dangerously close, his lips leave the perky little pebble and move back down to lap at your fresh flow. It tears you away from an orgasmic finale and brings you back to that sensual middle ground. The audible licks were amazing, but you need to reach that edge. Your hand drifted down to your pussy, right over his tongue where you can give your clit the stimulation needed to cum…

“Hwrrrrrrr…”

You felt the terrifying snarl more than you heard it, shaking you to your very core. The other core, not the one on the verge of bursting. You immediately pull away and freeze, shivering and breathing quickly at the sight of his bared fangs. For a brief moment, the tent of feathers showed off a faint sheen, like they all suddenly sharpened. A quivering, fear-fueled gasp left you. 

It felt like the staredown went on forever, but Hawks was eventually convinced that you weren’t going to distract him from his feast again and returned his gaze to the fragrant pussy before him. However, after a few more licks, he grunted in frustration. You weren’t secreting your precious juices fast enough; your body simply couldn’t keep up with his newfound greed.

The insatiable tongue keeps poking and prodding at your opening until it pushes in just enough to slightly stretch your walls. You struggle to stay relaxed and keep your hands to yourself. Hawks was currently as unpredictable as any other nomu, and you didn’t want to piss him off.

When the hot thick muscle is suddenly shoved into you, you don't even have time to cover your mouth and block the next scream that is ripped from your throat. There’s no time to adjust to the completely foreign sensation. It squirms inside of you like a living creature, massaging your pussy in ways you didn’t even know were possible, sometimes hitting that special soft spot.

Your molten center spreads its flames across every nerve. This is far beyond what you fantasized on the night you touched yourself. His tongue was able to fill you completely, all while moving around more freely than a cock or even fingers ever could. Too soon does it leave your pulsing walls and back into his mouth, where he swallows every drop he’s gathered before shooting his tongue back out and penetrating you again before you can even complain.

He was moving with more force, enough to create a visible swell in your stomach that moved along with his tongue. You can’t look away from it, even as he begins to push in and out at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up to new heights while the bulge in your belly moves up and down. You’re tempted to ask him to move his wings to allow more light for a better view, but interrupting him now is probably a stupid idea.

He pants loudly from his open mouth as he fucks you thoroughly with nothing more than a long powerful tongue, his thrusts moving faster and deeper in search of more of your savory wetness.

Meanwhile, you were dizzy. It was uncomfortable at first. It’s been so long since you’ve been fully stretched, but it all quickly melds into pleasure you have long since forgotten – no – you hadn’t even known. Your interest in sex has greatly diminished during your stay here. Hell, you were certain that your libido was officially dead. But Hawks….

This abomination was going to be the death of you.

Your g-spot is suddenly struck again, and again. Most of your words were incoherent, and the ones that could be made out were nothing more than endless encouragement.  “Gah-hnngh, fuck, Hawks, you want more, don’t you? Ah, I’m about to give you more. Keep going Hawks don’t fucking stop.” 

Talons are biting into your skin from his tightened grip. With a low bellow of excitement, his mouth moves to cover your entire sex, prepared for the incoming downpour, and thrusts his tongue into your most sensitive spot repeatedly without mercy.

The pressure within explodes violently, completely overshadowing that laughable orgasm you gave yourself yesterday. Each contraction adds more white that flashes in your eyes, moving in from the corners of your vision until it becomes as blinding and unbearable as the bliss that washes over you. There are noisy gulps between your legs, the parched monster happily taking every rush of fluid directly into his mouth and down his throat until he finally has his fill.

Even through your spasms your walls try desperately to clamp around his tongue as it leaves, but to no avail. The looming wings finally move away and return to their usual resting spot behind his back while he sets your lower body down and licks his lips for any remaining traces of your slick. The talons never broke your skin, but they did leave some glaring marks on your hips and ass.

You still tingled all over from the waist down while your muscles make the greatest effort to respond to any of your commands. No use. You decide to lay there covered in the monster’s spit. The work of that amazing specimen of a tongue almost made you forget that this was being done to arouse him. You should probably check to see if he was hard. He may not be able to feel your hand anymore, but he still might be excited enough to cum from the act. Stupid science bastards, making your job more complicated.

“Hawks.”

The single word uttered from the nomu clears your mind instantly. Your weakened arms push you upright to properly face him. He was still crouching, scaly toes supporting the weight of his body like a gargoyle without a perch.

“You say Hawks. What...is Hawks?”

What? When did you…?

Oh. Shit. Your mouth was moving on its own while he was eating you out.

Your mind was zipping in several directions at once, hoping that he wouldn’t find anything odd about your eyes darting about, looking everywhere except at him. You settled on a simple and dismissive answer. “Oh...don’t worry about it. I was just babbling while you had me on cloud nine,” you said with a crooked smile.

Black lips twisted into a frown, accompanied by a quick beat of his wings and then...eww. His brain is pulsing way too much, so much that he shakes his head in agitation, which only adds to the disturbing visual as the organ jiggles slightly in his head. “Hawks...don’t know...I know…” His words jumbled over his inner turmoil. The long tail lifted and began to swing quickly.

You sat there, nude and bewildered. Every High-End still carried traces of who they once were, expressing some of the same behaviors and habits they presumably had before death.

This is the first time you’ve seen one with any sort of recollection of their past life, even if it’s something as minor as feeling a connection to their name. You have a feeling that’s not supposed to happen.

You shouldn’t tell him anything; nothing good will come out of it. He needs to shut up and start being a bloodthirsty killer before the doctors decide that he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

“Raptor,” your shaky legs move slowly, shifting until you’re resting on your knees, face to face with the nomu that still looks interested in your naked body even as his head throbs. “It’s not important. Stop thinking about it.”

The look he gives you is one of hurt and dammit, this is exactly his problem. “But...Hawks. Want to know what-”

“I said stop thinking!”  Your volume shocks both of you, but Hawks actually recoils from the unexpected shout. You don’t care, all it does is confuse you more, anger you more. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me anymore? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Do whatever we tell you! What, did you break?” A full-body chill reminds you of the state you’re in. You were seriously having an outburst while still completely naked with Hawks’s saliva glistening over your thighs. You groan and turn away from the troubled hybrid to grab your clothes and dress yourself, not giving a damn if you pissed him off and he decides to kill you right there. He’d be doing both of you a favor, really.

But it shouldn’t be a surprise when you see that he hasn’t budged from his spot, making no move to retaliate. “I like you, Raptor,” you admitted. “Somehow, you managed to be the only welcomed company in this fucked up hospital slash prison, but you shouldn’t be. What we just did...that shouldn’t have happened. Fuck, I – I should’ve been terrified, and I kinda was, but, I shouldn’t have felt that good!” Your doubts, your conscience, they both return with a vengeance. But this time it’s not you they’re worried about. 

“If this is how you act around everyone else, you’re not going to last here.” You hold his face in your hands, a tender gesture that shouldn’t be possible with the likes of him. “These assholes are gonna get rid of you if you don’t do what they want, and they’re going to ask for horrible things. I know you don’t like killing, but if you keep up all of...this, you’re going to lose more than your sense of touch.”

He doesn’t make a sound, only staring at you before gritting his teeth and nodding in your gentle grasp. His compliance both relieves and hurts you.

“I’m sorry, but no more questions. Please? The less you know, the better.”

“No more…questions.” Dammit, you hate how clear the sorrow is in his eerie voice, like the mournful moans of a lost soul. “No more.”

You give him a smile of thanks, it’s the least you could give him. You try to bring the atmosphere back to its usual awkward yet friendly vibe. “Now, let me see if your, um, tasting did you any good.” You move to pull down his shorts. That is, until you notice the large damp spots and stains on the cheap material. Oh, he did not.

“Welp, it obviously worked. Now how am I gonna scrape this shit off?”

x---x---x---x---x

Hawks.

Flames.

Decay.

Death. Everywhere.

But, somehow, he knew it wasn’t his doing. 

Maybe he did kill a few...he wasn’t sure. It’s all so blurry and nauseating. 

Was he killing people? Was he…trying to save them? A monster like him, saving people?

“No more questions.”

Your voice echoes, bouncing across the shattered fragments of his mind. Raptor tries to obey. He doesn’t know what this Hawks is, or why it keeps plaguing him.

Whatever Hawks was, it’s gone. Raptor wants it to leave him alone.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #5: Camouflage

Notes: As you know by now, Raptor differs from other nomu in that he is designed for agility and stealth. An invisibility quirk will not only make Raptor into the perfect phantom, it can also assist in infiltration and spying. While the quirk may be called ‘camouflage’ mainly due to how it changes skin pigmentation, it does much more than match the colors of the environment. It hides the user’s entire form as perfectly as any true invisibility quirk. Raptor should be more than capable of destroying targets without ever being noticed.

You were right. It was strange how he doesn’t discover these ‘quirks’ on his own. It was an understatement to say that he was a little lost when a Coat ordered him to activate his Camouflage. Raptor was prepared to feel those words bind his limbs and move him against his will. Whenever his brain was under the Coats’ control, he was capable of doing whatever they asked, even when he himself didn’t understand what they were asking for.

So it was worrying when he felt nothing. He heard the order loud and clear, yet it didn’t wrap around his brain like it always does. 

So it wasn’t just you. His mind no longer submitted to anyone’s commands. He would have chirped in celebration if he didn’t have an audience that was still waiting for him to follow through, giving looks and comments of impatience while he stood there. 

He can’t let them notice that he was unaffected. The words of the Mask that stole his touch repeated in his head along with the memories of cutting and burning, every nerve seething from raw pain until all feeling began to fade.

“If he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

Alter...change...he doesn’t want them to change him. So Raptor tried to pretend, another thing that felt natural to him. 

The process of finding his new quirk was difficult to describe; it was more like willing himself to blend in until the rest of his body got the message. All of his muscles tightened, and he almost panicked when black skin began to disappear before his eyes. His wings, his tail, every part of him looked as if it was dissolving, but he can still move and feel the weight of each limb. Once his body relaxed, he was fully invisible. The Coats kept him pinned with their stares, however.

“Completely hidden. Very good,” one of them said, writing something down. They’re always watching, always taking notes on him, always judging. This all felt familiar as well. “Now, walk from that corner to there, and keep a hold on your quirk.”

There was no pull, no sudden fuzziness or loss of control. Nothing. It’s a strange feeling, following orders because he actually chooses to. It will take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. 

Has a monster like him ever acted before? It sure feels like it.

He performed several different tasks: running, climbing, flying, and shooting feathers. All while unseen by the naked eye. The feat even earned him a round of applause from the Coats.

“I can picture it already. He could slice apart an entire group of targets, and they wouldn’t even understand their deaths. A flurry of invisible blades!” One of them exclaimed with a smile that was way too wide given the subject matter.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get a taste of what this is capable of right now.”

Right on cue, the doors opened. Every feather on his wings and tail bristled instantly, ready to shred whatever possible threat that may enter. They wouldn’t be able to see him. It would be so easy, just like the Coats said.

But instead of another nomu that was simpler and more violent than him, a woman was shoved into the room hard enough to make her stumble forward and fall, the door slamming shut behind her. She was dressed like you, wearing only a thin blue shirt and pants. What did they bring someone like her in here for?

She was already back on her feet, scanning the area with wide eyes and shrunken pupils before moving her gaze to the humans that continued to observe from the other side. The fear in the air was so thick that Raptor could nearly taste it as she shook uncontrollably – he wondered if her knees would collapse from the trembling alone.

He was still camouflaged; she couldn’t see him at all. The urge to reveal himself is strong, but one: the Coats had yet to order him to deactivate his quirk, and two: knowing that she was in a room with a nomu will most definitely only terrify her more, so he stayed where he was, motionless and quiet.

For a suffocating minute, the only sound was her rapid breathing until one of the Coats finally spoke up.

“Kill her, Raptor.”

“What?” The woman’s voice was constricted by anxiety. She looked timidly at the man, who only stared back expectantly, waiting for something. “W-what?” She choked out again. She switched her attention to the door, still distressed and shaking. When no horrid beast entered the room like she expected, her panic increased even more, stuttering so badly that it was a challenge to discern what she was trying to say. “I-I-I w-I won’t...I’m s-so...p-p-please.” 

Her head whipped upwards to a vent in the ceiling. Nothing happened. The confused woman was now spinning around looking for something, hysterical with the knowledge that her impending doom was coming, but not knowing where or when. The weight of her dread was making him anxious.

The same Coat, however, only sighed in annoyance at the sight of the trapped panicking animal. “Don’t dawdle, Nomu.” The final word dripped with venom. It reminded him of his place: a puppet that should have no will of its own. Raptor didn’t want to kill, but if he defies them, then they will dig into his brain again, and the woman will probably be violently killed by a more enthusiastic nomu. He’s afraid of what they might take from him next. He can’t let that happen.

The shrinking woman is still whipping her head around in every direction as her bare feet take a step backwards, then another, completely unaware of the larger creature that stood right behind her. He can’t guarantee a painless death, but he can make it as quick as possible for her.

Raptor added an edge to some of his feathers, but reconsidered. That would require pinpoint accuracy, not worth the risk with a target that was moving so erratically.

His tongue curiously ran over the points of his teeth, checking their sharpness. No, that would leave too much of a mess.

His hands clenched into fists, and that’s when he practically heard the ding in his head. A simple method, but it should work just fine.

He was originally going to wait until she backed all the way into him, but that would be rather cruel. Killing her before she even recognizes the danger is a greater mercy. His hand struck with the swiftness of a snake, grabbing the back of her neck. The delicate spine could be felt beneath.

Raptor was not as strong as other nomu. That didn’t mean he couldn’t crush a human’s bones with little effort.

He felt her jolt, but that’s all she had time to do before the sickening snap and crunch sounded throughout the room, then she went limp with nothing more than a few final twitches.

Some of the Coats audibly gasped, while others clapped excitedly at the kill they couldn’t even see coming. From their perspective, an unsuspecting woman’s neck was suddenly crushed by an invisible force like an aluminum can.

One of them didn’t look very impressed. “Eh, a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

“We’re not watching a bloodsport,” another one snapped. “Raptor is designed to handle matters quickly. A cervical fracture is fast and effective.”

“She was so terrible at her job. I think she deserved a terrible death in return,” another said. 

Their babbling continued while Raptor placed the body on the floor more gently than his audience would have liked. Her eyes were still wide open, frozen in that moment of realization just a millisecond before death. Still, things could have been much worse for her. 

“I still think we should have used his harvester instead. She’s becoming a nuisance.”

Raptor has grown to really dislike that voice, the voice of the man that takes him away every morning. He always stares at him like an expensive possession that turned out to be a waste of money. It’s an effort to keep his lips from curling over his teeth whenever the bastard’s around.

An older lady spoke. “Her relationship with the nomu is unique and warrants its own set of experiments after we cover the basics here. We already told you that.”

“Yes yes, I know. But her sample this morning was pathetic. It’s like she’s forgotten her job, too busy turning our greatest achievement into a softie. Call me petty, but I’d get a good laugh out of watching her be devoured by the nomu that she’s decided to become friends with.”

Anger.

“You are petty, and short-sighted. Do you understand just how extraordinary this relationship is?”

Another Coat butted in. “Sure, but what use is sentiment to a nomu? This was supposed to be a cold lethal predator, not a child that likes to draw on walls. I agree that the bond with its harvester is holding it back. It would be better off without her.”

Raptor hates it. He doesn’t want any of them talking about you. To think that they’d consider something as twisted as offering you to him as a helpless prisoner to execute, just like the one whose spine he had just snapped.

How dare they.

The lady was suddenly staring right at him with a look of shock before her aged lips curled into a smirk. Actually, everyone was staring at him now, and they all showed varying levels of discomfort. That’s when he noticed that he can see his hands in front of him again, along with his feet, wings, and the rest of his body. His fury made him lose his hold on the Camouflage quirk. They had all just seen his face of hatred.

And yet the lady continued to smile. “I don’t believe he agrees with you two.”

She then whispered something, lips forming what looked like the word ‘magnificent’ while her eyes bore into him. Even his rage was nothing more than a fascinating process to be examined.

Raptor wants to get out of here.

x---x---x---x---x

You’re alright. You made it out. You were bruised, but you made it out.

That High-End nearly broke your fucking arm when it came. It was always a pretty rough one when you jerked it off but for god’s sake, why did it always have to squeeze you like a stress ball? Thankfully, your painful shriek of “STOP!” was enough to penetrate the horny shield over its brain and it released you.

It wasn’t your first injury, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten such a scare. It could’ve been worse – it could always be much worse.

The fact that you feel elated when you reach Hawks’s room shows how close the two of you have gotten in less than a week. Two prisoners who agree that this place can go fuck itself; one was pumping cocks on the daily, the other failed miserably at being a ruthless monster. They ought to make a movie out of this.

You enter the room to see him resting in the center while several feathers carve into different areas of the walls and ceiling. His understanding of shapes was becoming more complex at a rapid rate, if the current drawings were anything to go by. They looked to be unintentionally abstract faces, varying greatly in size and structure, but one thing they all had in common was oversized eyes. Every face was furiously scratched in, the sound of chiseling surrounding you and adding to the ominous aura given off by the etchings that lacked skill but teemed with raw emotion. 

The scattered claw marks from yesterday are still as visible as ever. Everyday, this place looks more disturbing even with the not-so-hostile creature that occupies it.

Something prompts his feathers to stop abruptly and return to him, followed by him quickly standing up and hissing. The badly-timed hostility makes you jump back. “Raptor? What is it?” You tried to stay calm as usual.

He drew closer, eyes narrowed and teeth bared at the purplish welts on the arm that held your gazillionth jar. Oh, of course. You waved with you uninjured one. “It’s alright. One of the High Ends was being a little heavy-handed. It stings, but it’ll get better.” 

Hot air hits you when he releases a snort. While he studies the bruise, you continue to examine the newest artful additions. “So...what do all of these mean?” You ask.

He follows your traveling gaze and mutters. “Watching. They’re always watching.”

He said it so smoothly that it gave you chills. “You’re tripping up less on your words. That’s, uh, good.” When a grunt is his only response, you keep talking. “Are these the doctors?” He nodded. “Did you...have to kill again?”

A beat. Then he nods again, more slowly this time. “It was easier.” 

You’re not sure what to say to that, deciding to instead rest a hand on his arm. For some reason, what he said didn’t scare you. It was you who asked him to act more like a nomu, anyway.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, standing side-by-side in the middle of the room’s crude composition that illustrated his short life. Innocence, rage, and now a feeling of powerlessness. You can relate; your progress here was very similar except that the ‘innocence’ part can be replaced with ‘grief’, having lost contact with everything you were familiar with. 

“You know, maybe I can add my own additions to this sometime, if you don’t mind. Make this place our own little mural.” You giggle when his tail swings at the proposal. “There’s no way they haven’t noticed how odd of a duo we are by now. I wonder how those assholes feel about all of this.”

You’re grabbed and pulled into him so quickly that the jar slips out of your grip, rolling away as you’re pushed into a hard black chest. The tight embrace squeezes your swollen arm painfully. “Shit, that hurts!”

He whines apologetically and loosens his hold. Pain and lack of oxygen aside, it’s oddly comforting. You haven’t been hugged in ages, and here you were being held by this. A song of soft coos calm you, but there is a noticeable sad tone to them. You look up at him, chin resting on his pecs. “Raptor, I know it sucks here, and I don’t really know what to say to make things better, but I’ll keep trying to hang out with you for as long as I can, alright?” You reassure him while rubbing his chest. “Remember, you’re kind of the best thing that ever happened to this place. Not that my standards in this shithole are very high – they’re actually lower than a regular nomu’s sex drive – but it’s still an achievement you should be proud of.”

Your words did their job, if his lighter hums are anything to go by. His comforting heat was gone too soon when he gently pushed you back, following up with a press of lips against yours.

There’s no more clumsiness in his movements. He switched from light brushes that had you craving more to deep smooches that took your breath away. There wasn’t much else you could do except follow his lead. The teasing licks against your lips never fail to get you going, and he probably knows that by now. Unfortunately, you had to break apart for a breather, allowing him to cradle you as he waited.

“Who the hell have you been kissing while I’m not around to learn so fast?” You joked.

You didn’t expect him to look away and hesitate to answer before uttering, “I...remembered.”

If he was expecting that to upset you, it didn’t. You can’t stop his brain from working, and he no longer automatically gives in to any demands. You still don’t know what’s up with that. “Right,” you sighed. “Are you remembering anything else?”

“No...same things. Hawks...fire...death...I want to forget.” He pulls you in again, this time taking care not to add too much pressure to your bruises. His strangled attempts at speech have become smoother over the days, but hearing the winged hero beneath the layers of grotesque sounds that create his voice is going to take a long time to get used to. “Can...you...make me forget?”

A twinge of sadness and pity. Are his final moments the only parts that keep playing in his head, in a cruel loop? You direct all of your strength into your voice and speak. “Forget about it. Forget about Hawks and all of those foggy memories.”

He sits there and blinks with no clear sign that your words had any effect. 

Then he wilts and groans in defeat.

“No good, huh?” You shrug. You truly did wish you could help him. “There’s not much else I can do, sorry.” A pause. “Must feel like nightmares, I guess. I get plenty of those.” You rest in his hold while recalling some of the fears that manifest in your sleep. “Dreams about what they’ll do when they don’t need me anymore. I never had the guts to put myself out of my misery – don’t have many options to work with anyway. Maybe I can ask a nomu to chomp my head off.”

“No.” The word was growled out, felt all around you like a small quake. You quickly try to calm him by raising your uninjured arm to hold and caress his face. You know that he couldn’t exactly feel it anymore, but the memory of your touch is probably what still managed to soothe him. It was an intimate image, touching him so lovingly while in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around. We can make things easier for each other.” Without a second thought, you straighten up and begin pushing down your pants, Hawks already chirping in excitement and fumbling with your shirt, his talons ripping the cloth. You were naked in front of him once again, and the memories of yesterday already have your pussy lubricating itself in preparation. Samples...semen….you weren’t thinking about any of that. You just wanted him again.

“Let’s help each other forget.”

And just like that, you were devoured. His mouth was everywhere and you happily took it all. You were addicted to his touch as much as he was addicted to your flavor. The dark blue tongue moved gracefully across your face, the small grin and lidded eyes telling you that he quite enjoyed the sight of you covered in his saliva. You opened your mouth wide as an invitation that he gladly took, the strong muscle charging straight into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag and has tears pricking at your eyes, yet you continue to throb between your legs.

He fucks your mouth so fast and roughly that you’re forced to only breathe through your nose. You’re clinging onto him as you gurgle around the ravaging muscle, your nails unable to pierce his tough hide no matter how hard you grip.

Something solid rubs right against your sex, grazing your clit and leaving you moaning into his mouth. His hips were bucking into the air with a very prominent tent that constricted his growing cock.

It’s the first time a nomu’s dick actually touches you there. 

And it makes your walls clench.

You get closer for more friction, trying to grind against the massive erection while he finally removes his tongue from your mouth. That’s when he notices just how hard you’re trying to get off on his bulge.

Heat is rushing to your face at his puzzled expression. “You-” You gasp, still catching your breath after having him squirm down your throat for so long. “You feel pretty good.”

He simply watches you continue to rub against him – you don’t even notice that his hips are no longer moving, you just press closer to him and grind harder in desperation. His wings flutter and the rest of his body shakes lightly, his breaths coming out in short huffs.

He was laughing.

The look of amusement is so unexpected that it has your hips stopping out of embarrassment. And here you thought nothing else could leave you flustered at this point. “You don’t have to laugh. Trust me, you’ve looked way more desperate than I have,” You tease him. 

He clicks his tongue, then with a yank and a loud rip, his shorts are in tatters and his cock springs free right onto your belly. Another short round of huffs are heard from him when you squeak in surprise. Just where did this attitude even come from?

Beads of precum ooze from his pointed head and drip onto your stomach. Maybe it’s your lust-tinted lenses, but his cock is looking much more attractive than usual. Its curved perfectly to hit all of the right spots, and those ridges probably feel amazing when moving inside you.

“Want more?”

The low-pitched voice right in your ear has you shaking, like it was a question from the Devil himself. Thirst aside, you don’t know what you should say. You trust that he won’t fuck you to shreds like the other High Ends would, but the biggest issue…

“I don’t know if I should risk that,” you murmur, a hand reaching to rub the textured flesh. “As tempting as it is right now.”

His confidence is replaced with disappointment. That is, until he immediately perks back up and grabs your hips.

“Wait what are yoooo-whoa!”  You’re being lifted off the floor, legs dangling uselessly as he holds you easily, your body hovering right over his twitching dick.

Panic begins to set in. “No! Nononono I said-”

“I won’t.” He says softly. As softly as he can with such a voice, at least. “Calm.”

Instead of penetrating like you feared, he lowers you until your flushed lips are resting on the length of his scaly shaft.  

And then, slowly, his hips push forward.

The bumps and creases slide against you in all of the right ways. “Oooh fuck.” You adjust yourself to ensure that he rubs your clit as well. The sensation has you shuddering in his hands as the pressure inside you builds quickly. Your slick makes his dick smoother after each thrust, and when Hawks sees that you’re comfortable and lost in the rhythm, he begins to speed up. 

Your legs are swinging madly at a complete loss on how to handle the electrifying friction, but the nomu grunts and takes hold of your thighs. They close around his cock, greatly increasing the pressure as he continued to fuck past your thighs. “Stay there.” The vibration from his deep raspy voice only arouses you more. His hips collide with yours after each buck.

As amazing as it feels, your hazy mind recalls that Hawks shouldn’t be able to properly revel in this outercourse. “I-I thought...you couldn’t feel this.” You say shakily.

Hawks is eyeing your bouncing form with great interest, his hips not missing a beat as he answered. “Can’t. Just watching.”

He presses down on you more, slowing down his pace with his eyes still locked on your face. His tongue quickly swipes across your forehead to taste the sweat that has mixed with his saliva. “You look good.”

Goddamn him.

You felt close, so close, but even as your limbs tingle from the pleasure, your orgasm remained out of reach. The most severe ache that had yet to be sated, to be given any attention, was inside you. You have never throbbed this much in your life, you didn’t even know that your muscles down there could even contract this tightly. The dragging of his cock against your drenched lips isn't enough. You don’t care about risk anymore. Not after feeling what he has to offer.

There’s no voice telling you how stupid you’re being right now. It already gave up on you.

Good.

“Haw–shit–Raptor, inside. I need you inside.” You beg between your moans. He stills completely, which has you whining and squirming even more.

“Inside?”

Hearing him say it sobers you up a bit, but not enough to kill your desire. “Just pull out before you cum, alright? Think you can do that?” You ask.

He nods eagerly, wings and tail moving with glee as he lifts you off of his dick that was already lubed up by your natural fluids. He angles himself until the head is pressing at your twitching entrance. 

You can’t tell if you’re trembling from excitement or fear. Probably both.

The fine tip already has you being stretched wide, burning and stinging in spite of your pussy’s preparation. It makes you wince and want to close your eyes – to create some distance between you and the pain – but your curiosity has you looking down to watch him enter you, inch by inch. You can once again see your stomach distend as it attempts to accommodate the large intrusion, much bigger than the slithery tongue that previously invaded it.

But it’s exactly what you craved, the unique texture feeling even more delicious when inside of you. Your toes curl and legs quiver from his girth; not as meaty as the other dicks that you’ve treated, just enough extra thickness to give you a stretch that you’ve never experienced, without causing serious harm.

He reaches the end of your cavern with a few more inches to spare, and the drawn out moan slipping past his lips surprises both of you. You try to relax around him while he fights the urge to move. Black shaky wings expand behind him.

“Feel…” He gasped and choked, one would think that he was trying to learn speech all over again. “Can feel...squeezing. So gooood.” The last word came out as a strong rasp against your face.

The new discovery has you smiling, one of your hands rubbing at a much larger one around your waist. “You can feel it? You feel how tight I am, Raptor? How badly I want you to stay inside me and never leave?” He may not be able to feel your heat or your dampness, but it looks like he can’t escape the pressure from a cunt’s death grip.

He twitches inside, making you jolt. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.

You scratch under his chin. Numb as he is, he still tilts his head like a pet dying for affection. “Then I want you to fuck me. Stop thinking, and just move...” You bring your face close to his, pulling off a seductive look and tone even when impaled on him. “...Just like a good nomu.”

Perhaps Hawks had a submissive kink when he was alive. It would explain why that riled him up so much that he was already slamming into you with absolutely no warning. 

It hurts. It hurts so fucking good. Every thrust tears a helpless cry out of your body. The scales grind against every nerve around your hole, while the ones deeper inside nudge your velvety walls as they move in and out, in and out.

You couldn’t talk between your screams, not with how violently he was pounding you. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and hung on for dear life with your face buried in the crook of his neck. His own muscular arms wrap around you in a deceptively loving embrace, pumping into you with a rhythmic smack smack smack.  All you can do is reap what you sow and take it. 

This wasn’t just for you, this was for Hawks as well. You gave him something that he could feel again. What began as whiny gasps for air soon became rolling growls that vocalize a need for more. 

Your orgasm barely sticks out of the continuous blinding pleasure as he plows harder through your spasms, your contracting muscles wrestling with the merciless cock to hold it inside. 

His tone is dark. Vicious. “Tight. So tight!”

It makes your greedy body want even more. “Oh, good job, Raptor. Such a good boy.” You praise him, feeling the brief falter in his movements. He really does like that. “Go ahead and take it all, as much as you need-ah. Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until I can’t think.”

The violent sex stops and you’re being ripped away from that wondrous cock in the blink of an eye. Before you can even question what’s happening, your world begins to spin until you’re suddenly on the floor. You’re getting adjusted onto your hands and knees right before being pierced again with a force that shoves you forward. 

Your thoughts struggle to keep up with the lightning-fast sequence of events, hindered even more by the warmth of the body hovering right over you. Hawks too was on all fours, though he looked much more comfortable and natural, wings fully spread out in a proud and dominant display as he throbbed inside of you. 

His hips snap forward, already at a rapid pace that rocks you with each hard impact and soon has you howling again. The floor was filled with uneven cracks and scratches that scraped your knees, not that the discomfort was easy to notice while you were being drilled into. As you latched onto one of his arms for support, you noticed right in front of you, was your first game of tic tac toe.

Drool dripped down from the snarling jaws above you and onto the innocent group of lines and shapes.

The mounting beast humped you with every ounce of energy he had. Your aching pussy couldn’t take it. Too hard...too big... you’re cumming again around his pistoning cock, moans melting into defeated sobs. The huge pair of swinging balls occasionally smacked right into your oversensitive clit. You were losing the will to hold yourself up, gripping his supportive arm more tightly while your thighs quivered. Even if you had the strength to, you had no plans to ask the feral savage to stop.

He currently wasn’t anything like the gentle experiment you’ve befriended in just a few days. Right now, with his head thrashing around and flinging spittle everywhere as he barked, and wings beating hard against the floor, he was terrifying. Powerful, hungry, and single-minded.

So this is what it’s like to give in to a nomu.

It’s scary.

It’s thrilling.

Every fast agonizing stroke right against your cervix takes your breath away, your mouth eventually just hanging open in an attempt to capture whatever oxygen it could into your lungs. Hawks curls into himself so that he can crane his neck and look at you, saliva flowing freely down his chin. Each breath came out as a throaty growl wafting against your sweaty face. He takes one look at your parted lips, and stuffs you with his tongue.

If your thoughts were more coherent at the moment, you’d wonder how the hell the muscle was strong enough to be able to move into your throat as hard as the dick that continued to wreck your insides. His hips assisted in gagging you even more with each thrust. The threat of asphyxiation only brought you closer to your next orgasm. 

Your mind was empty, save for the immoral thoughts that have long since driven off their more honorable competition. 

Just use me.

Your entire body was on fire, getting pummeled from both ends.

Just use me however the fuck you want.

Hawks is suddenly bombarding your cunt with short and speedy ruts of his hips, and that does it. Your limbs give out and leave you to plop onto the floor as your pleasure blooms all over. But his long tongue follows you, still pushing into your whimpering mouth to deprive you of much-needed air. He simply lowers himself and proceeds to fuck you hard into the ground, pressing your skin into his many carvings.

His tongue leaves...your eyes rolling back….

Hawks releases a horrid cry that sounds like both a roar and a bird-like shriek.

Exhaustion…

Hawks is too lost in the surprising sensations, dull but still intense, to realize that he’s shooting his thick load into your womb

Warmth...full...sleep.

x---x---x---x---x

“Get up.”

The voice is muffled as you slowly come to. Whatever you’re resting on doesn’t feel like your bed.

“I know you’re awake. Hurry and get up.”

You’re surrounded by warmth, by something breathing. Pain shoots through your back and legs when you stir. When you open your eyes, you see the golden eyes of a High End.

The fear does well in masking your aches as you scramble out of the arms of what turned out to be Hawks, who was lounging on his side like a giant cat.

And standing at the door, was the damned doctor that you had the privilege of seeing every day.

His stare looked even more judgmental than it usually did. Full-on disgusted, actually. Realizing that you’re still naked, you grab one of Hawks’s wings that were splayed out on the floor to shield yourself.

He simply shakes his head. “I’ve already seen enough. And heard enough.”

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

“I-I…” you stammer, panic rising in your chest as you’re unable to come up with any sort of explanation. You even turn to Hawks, like he’d somehow provide you with the answer.

“I normally don’t care what deplorable methods you people use to collect your samples, but going by the filth between your legs...” That prompts you to look down, and the second you do, you already feel a dense fluid oozing out of you and running down your legs that were stained with white. “...you actually allowed Raptor to inseminate you.”

His words, along with your accelerating heartbeat, thunders in your ears. Hawks is watching his seed leak from your raw pussy. He remains still and quiet, uncertain of how to act in the presence of a doctor.

“To think that someone would deliberately let a nomu breed them. I know that the two of you have gotten close,” His eyes skimmed past the many images and markings in the room. “But just how depraved do you have to be to go this far with a nomu?”

If this was before the days you allowed Hawks to touch you, you would have felt embarrassed. You are scared. Not only did he cum inside you, you’ve also been caught right after the act.

But any sort of shame?

You had the nerve to huff, still hiding your body from him not out of shyness, but because the asshole didn’t deserve the view. “I guess we’re all sick fucks around here,” you retort.

The glare on his glasses add to the intimidation factor of his glower. He takes a step forward and gives a quick tilt of his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

Both you and Hawks are taken back. “For what?”

He scowls even harder. “Still asking questions? You’re lucky that you’re valuable right now. You have most likely been impregnated. This is an unexpected opportunity to observe one of Raptor’s offspring. We’ll be watching over you until the birth.”

You don’t move, still soaking in every word. This most definitely was a mistake. Not only are you going to be taken away from Hawks to be cooped up in a room with constant surveillance, you’re going to have a...fuck.

You feel the wing in your grasp vibrate softly, Hawks sensing your distress and attempting to silently reassure you.

“I said get dressed,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Or are you still basking in the afterglow?” He snickered at his own joke before walking forward, ready to take you by force.

That’s when the nomu in the room finally stood up to step right in front of you, standing tall in all of his naked glory and easily towering over the man.

You had to give the guy credit for not looking phased by the very dangerous creature blocking his path. Then again, maybe he was just so sure that Hawks wouldn’t harm him in any way.

“Out of the way, Raptor.” Strong and firm. It’s the tone that ensures a nomu’s obedience, but you know by now that Hawks’s mind has grown beyond that.

As expected, Hawks doesn’t budge, still looking down with eyes of liquid gold.

The doctor only looks more annoyed, not afraid. “I knew you were defective,” he sneered. “Always hesitating during tests. Such wasted potential, yet the others insist on keeping you around. To do what? Decorate rooms? The idiots should have altered your brain by now.”

What? 

Hawks still didn’t move. The lack of reaction was beginning to get to the man’s nerves, his hands balling into fists as he contemplated what action to take next. You stayed mostly hidden behind Hawks, anxiously looking past his wings.

When he accepted that the nomu wasn’t going to move, and forcing his way past him was too dangerous of an option, he smirked. “Fine, then. You’re only making yourself look worse. I’m certain I can convince them to move forward with that operation after they see how defiant you’re being right now.”

No! You feel so damn useless. The bastard wanted to change him into something more compliant. How much would that change Hawks himself? You don’t know if there’s anything you can do that won’t just end with you being thrown into the lion’s den. 

The doctor placed two fingers to his temple. Fuck, his quirk. 

“Backup needed in South Hall, room five o’ ni-”

He stopped. Pure shock took over his face, words replaced with the faintest choked sounds. You truly considered asking if he was feeling alright.

Until a thin line of red appeared at his throat, blood oozing out, the bleeding getting heavier by the second.

“What. The. Fuck?”  Your breaths were becoming too short as you watched him crumple, the liquid crimson quickly pooling around him. “What the fuck is going on?”

The confusion and fear was making you delirious. God, you were going to pass out again, this is too fucking much, this asshole was about to take you away because you have a monster growing inside you and then he was going to turn Hawks into a regular High End but now he’s dead but who the fuck killed him and what’s about to happen to you-

“Calm.”

A large hand on your shoulder grounds you, steadying your breathing and expanding your tunnel vision. Hawks is in front of you, releasing soft coos.

“Wha–how–wha…” Your shaky lips are unable to form words, but he seems to understand. Something materializes right in front of you. Small, black, and sharp. It’s a feather, floating between the both of you. “What?” You finally spit out.

“Camouflage,” that’s all he says, as if that explains everything. Since when was he able t-

Whatever. There’s too much shit happening right now.

Still shaking, you look to see the doctor still bleeding, some of the blood flowing into the engravings and painting them red.

“Y-you killed him?” You whisper.

He nods, staring apathetically at the body.

“But, I thought you didn’t…” You trailed off, too stunned by everything that has happened to finish.

He turned his attention back to you, red irises – as red as the blood that continued flow – staring into your frightened eyes. “It gets easier.”

Once again,  you’re not sure what to say to that.

He looks to the door. “More coming soon.”

Right, whoever the doctor was contacting must be wondering why his telepathy was suddenly cut off.

“I want to leave.”

“Leave? Like, you want to escape?” Another nod. “That’s...I don’t know if that’s possible. There are villains around here. Strong villains. Shit, they might release some of the nomu on us!” 

“You want to stay?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

“I’m strong, and fast.” His wings unfurl and sharpen every feather, his tail curling around you so that you can see the knifelike plumes on it. “Can heal very fast and blend in. Can do a lot.”

The display and simple explanation reminds you that you haven’t seen any of his combative skills firsthand. This is what they made him for.

Well then…

“Right, then how about we give them a final test?” Just when you were finally calming down, adrenaline is already being pumped back into your veins. “Let’s show them how unstoppable their latest work is.”

His little peep of agreement nearly ruined the moment, but it reminds you why you’ve grown so fond of him.

He turns around and crouches, motioning you to climb onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck. It was awkward, mostly due to the wings that you were squishing under you, but when you voiced your worries he just gave you an “It’s fine.” He warned you to hang on extra tightly whenever he gets low to the ground. He’s a much faster runner on all fours.

Stepping over the corpse that has bled dry, he stopped at the door and braced himself. 

“Ready?”

Your arms and legs were secured around him. You breathed in through your nose then out through your mouth. 

Breath in. Breathe out.

A lot of death and destruction is probably about to come your way.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It would be great if you never had to fill another jar ever again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Your clammy skin hasn’t felt sunlight in fucking forever. Are the heroes even still alive out there?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You try not to think about what’s happening in your womb.

“I’m ready.”

The door is pushed open. 

x---x---x---x---x

Targets first spotted at 12:50

The old surveillance cameras flicker and lag. It makes noticing the running black figure all the more difficult. On most screens, you’ll see nothing more than a blur. There will be the occasional confrontation with villains, sometimes accompanied by researchers with incapacitation quirks. More often than not, the escapees easily outmaneuver them, crawling and leaping on every surface and zooming past their potential captors before they can even follow.

Some of the stronger villains and nomu slow the duo down only briefly before they collapse from an unseen force. The recovered bodies possessed deep cuts across major arteries or accurate punctures in their major organs.

Some footage shows the two sometimes climbing into vents, temporarily escaping the cameras.

The woman on the High End’s back was injured during the fatal showdown at the hospital’s exit, enraging it to the point where it swiftly killed everyone in its vicinity, including fleeing researchers that were only caught in the crossfire.

Targets escaped facility at 13:09

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

SUBJECT HAS ESCAPED. NOMU IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION IN RETRIEVING IT.

Some things are too good to be true. It turned out that Raptor’s brain has, shall we say, faulty wiring. Several observations have noted him hesitating upon certain commands. This should not be a constant problem with any High End. I don’t understand why they did not immediately work on this issue. It’s possible that they feared irreversible changes to his unique mind.

I personally believe that many of these flaws are the result of a compassionate host. The hero Hawks was unmistakably a gifted combatant, probably the most gifted individual the facility has gotten their hands on, but his attitude did not translate well into the role of a nomu. On the bright side, I never thought I’d ever see nomu, let alone a High End, show such genuine fondness over a human. I believe it’s worth another try in the future.

But for now, we should stick to what works. There are more than enough lowly criminals to go around.

#Hawks #smut #nomu #noumu #terato #monster fucking #hawks x reader #shh the doctors don't know about shirakumo #happy october? #tw blood #tw death

[growup-thatbeautiful]

could you do a timmy fic based on invisible string? it’s one of my favorite songs

i’d be happy to! it’s such a sweet song :) i just cracked myself up by accidentally typing invisible strong helppp

invisible string

you’re not sure if you believe in fate. it always seemed like a cheap way to tell someone you care about them to you. the whole idea of it seemed fatally flawed, in your head.

that doesn’t stop you from thinking that there was something at work all along to make you meet timothee, because the odds of you two finding each other seem not to be in your favor. the odds of it working out seemed even worse, but you two have been going strong for four years now, with no end in sight. not that people usually saw their breakups coming.

before timothee, you had had your fair share of previous lovers, meaning you had your fair share of heartbreaks as well. but, they never seemed to hurt your for too long. sure, you would stay inside for a couple of days and write angry, sad words to friends and to yourself, but never anything that time couldn’t fix.

you know now, thought, that it wouldn’t be the same with timothee. you honestly can’t even think of what you would do if you broke up. it would be losing a second half, a soulmate, someone you deeply believed to be meant to be. as a result, you try not to think about it too much.

you’re sitting in the park, timothee next to you on a blanket. you’re looking up at the sky, watching the teal sky as it passes by.

“do you believe in fate?” you ask timothee. he looks over at you, question written on his face. “come on, humor me.”

“sure i do. i don’t like the idea of everything being random, us just chaotically running around in the dark. the alternative of fate is so much better.”

“i can’t tell if that’s optimistic or not,” you laugh, reaching for his hand.

“doesn’t have to be optimistic, just romantic.”

“sap,” you accuse without any heat. his laugh is light and you want to keep hearing it for the rest of your life. you already have what seems like a lifetime of memories with him. the first time he came to visit you in LA, where you lived, and he ate at your favorite restaurant. he said that it had been coincidence, but you knew he had kept note of it and went there on purpose. or the time you went to visit the lakes together. the scenery was absolutely stunning, glimmering water and bright green grass.

there had been a brook by the house you stayed at, the trickling water reminding you of his laugh again. who could blame you?

you look beside you to see that timothee is falling asleep. you’re getting close to sleeping too, but you’d rather watch him. his chest rises and falls steadily, his face serene. his hair is moving gently with the wind like a blade of grass. you’re almost tempted to reach out and move it into place, but you know it’ll just be moved again.

it’s true to him, that even when he’s asleep he seems to be in motion. some part of him is always in motion, from him twisting his rings to running a hand through his hair. it’s endearing, especially when he starts playing with your fingers absentmindedly.

you grab his hand and pull it closer, taking a page out of his book and twisting the rings on his fingers.

recent memories of him asking you what kind of rings you like and him sizing your ring. you know for a fact that he had been asking about family rings, because his mother told you, and she had also told you that he asked her for proposal advice.

yeah, it seems like he’s in it for the long run.

maybe you do believe in fate.

#timothee x you #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet writing #timothee fan fiction #timothee fic #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fan fiction

[yanderemommabean]

I was going through your archive when I found a post that I love so dang much. It's the one where you take a demons power to go to different anime's. But surprise! Everyone is yandere for you now. But I gotta idea for it. Let's say you FINALLY get back to your universe, you're thinking that no more yandere's are gonna go after you. Then you see L in a cafe, Sebastian along with Ciel coming out of a car, and all the yandere's you THOUGHT you escaped from have just entered the Real universe.

You think you’re safe, you think that finally you can rest and not have to worry about being taken, being stalked and watched every living second of the day. The world seems to have slowed down, you no longer feel the need to run and escape from those you once looked up too and favored.

But then you feel the hairs stand on the back of your neck. That familiar trepidation turning into dread, sinking your heart and stomach. Call it instinct, call it magic, but you knew in your gut you weren’t actually safe.

A familiar blond bombshell with red wings is being admired down the street, his golden eyes piercing yours while he wears his signature playboy grin. Like a true hawk cornering it’s prey.

Just a few feet beside him, a man with a green and black checkered jacket is seen asking people all sorts of odd questions, you can only guess that he’s asking about you.

No. No this isn’t fair! This isn’t supposed to be happening! You want to scream, to dash the other direction, but you also want to fight them out of the absolute frustration of being chased constantly without a second to breathe. That fucking asshole demon! An absolute bitch!

You begin to search for a route that would help you hide. Alleyways, crowds of people, stores with accessible storage rooms, anything would be a godsend to hide from the ever growing list of problems and psychos following you.

While dodging as many pedestrians as possible was a skill you’ve reluctantly been honing in on lately, it was going to happen that you’d lose focus through your panic. You collide into a muscular, well built man with his hair in a tight bun. Beside him is a smaller, but still taller light haired man with an apologetic smile.

Asahi and Sugawara. Of course, even the sweethearts are after you.

“Oh-oh my goodness Y/N! I’m so sorry! I know I was looking for you but I didn’t mean-“

“Easy Asahi-“ Suga soothed, helping you up off of the ground while you wince and scrunch your nose. While colliding with the absolute unit of a man, you fell back and felt a crack as you used your hands to break your fall, and it looks like your body took that term literally.

“Oh god, that doesn’t look to good” Asahi murmurs, gently rubbing his thumb over your ever swelling wrist. His lips softly kiss the skin while Suga places his hand on your back, guiding you to walk with them as he beams his beautiful smile down at you.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to worry about anything, we’re gonna take care of you. I guess the whole team kinda scared you off huh? They tend to do that when overexcited” he smiles, as if any of this was remotely normal.

You were trapped. Not only where they more capable of chasing you down, their height and strength combined meant you couldn’t possibly get away, unless some miracle occurred. And lately? That’s been a commodity you’ve been starved of.

Asahi continues to ask if you’re ok, stuttering and timidly looking away on occasion when all you manage is a grunt of irritation and pain. You can’t even focus on where these two are taking you, your wrist throbbing and burning as the impact of the damage done starts to sink in.

As you are turned down a sketchy alley, Asahi abruptly stops in his tracks, pushing you behind him and giving Suga a stern and suspicious expression. Suga just nods, and pulls you close to him as he whispers in your ear “Stay beside me, ok? Not to make you worry or anything but...we don’t think we’re alone here”.

Fucking duh. Of course you aren’t. There’s as many psycho, obsessed anime characters as there is germs at this point. For all you knew cells from cells at work were coming to take you. And it would be kind of funny if that wasn’t a real possibility!

You just bite back a sob of frustration, tears freely running down your face as you collapse to the ground and bury your face in the hand that wasn’t currently having a malfunction. Suga assumes it’s the pain, kneeling down to try and soothe you the best he could. Seconds later, a blade swings by and misses you both by just millimeters.

Looking up from utter fear, you see none other than Zack Foster standing with an unhinged expression. “Alright you had your fun you little runaway, but I’m kinda getting tired of chasing you all over creation. A mans got needs you know? Cant keep his needs away from him forever!”

Asahi tightens his fists and puffs out his chest, stalking closer to the scrawny man as he sets his scythe against his shoulder. “You aren’t even close to worthy of having Y/Ns love! You just nearly killed her!” He shouts, giving Suga a nod to lift you up and make a run for it.

The two continue to throw jabs and tauntings as Suga gently lifts you, nuzzling into your shoulder as he rubs your back to soothe you. “You’re ok, you’re gonna be ok” he repeats, as if talking to a scared child and not an adult wanting to sell their soul again to get out of this nightmare.

Once again, because sure why not, Suga stops in his tracks and clenches you tighter to his chest.

You look over your shoulder to see just what new clusterfuck the universe has given you, meeting the demonic eyes of Rui, who’s webbing was ready to slice the man apart if he so much as breathed wrong.

“Enough games. Give me what is mine and I’ll make your death much less painful. Y/N was taken from me and I plan on getting rid of any and everyone involved”. His words were so calm, so matter of fact, as if he expected Suga to just comply and accept his fate.

You shut your eyes, hearing the voices of many other characters approaching like piranhas to an injured animal. Except instead of working together, they planned to tear anyone apart just to have you, and no matter the outcome you didn’t want to see just who the victor would be.

(-Mommabean, please leave comments or tell me what you think! Helps motivate me and to see where I need to work on more!)

#yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #Yandere portal #Yandere anime #yandere sugawara #Yandere Asahi #Yandere Zack Foster #Yandere Rui #yandere demon slayer #Yandere Haikyuu #Mommabean

[stardustprompts]

the burning god -  r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   ptsd ,  addiction , death , murder , nsfw  , language 

‘do you think I’d ever let anything happen to you?’

‘you’re terrified. that’s why you’re fidgeting. you’re scared.’

‘soldiers are worth more than civilians, it’s just math.’

‘don’t cut off the head of the snake if you can tame it.’

‘none of this— our villages, our people, our freedom— will survive under their intended world order’

‘i’m the least terrible option you’ve got.’

‘I don’t mean to call you stupid, because I love you, but that plan is so stupid.’

‘i’m not sorry for this. you shouldn’t have gotten in my way.’

‘that wasn’t an insult. just being frank.’

‘they’re bullies. weakness is what they want to see.’

‘bad moral is a big weapon. don’t underestimate it.’

‘i’ve gotten you this far. trust me just a little longer.’

‘i’m not crazy right? this is clearly a trap?’

‘how do you think history will judge me if I throw away it’s fate for one person?’

‘it felt like you’d put the universe back in place. like you were balancing the scales. didn’t it?’

‘you don’t fix hurts by pretending they never happened. you treat them like infected wounds and then, maybe, you have a chance to heal.’

‘it’s not justice, it’s chaos.’

‘this is a revolution. it’s not a fucking tea party.’

‘cut me a fucking break. i’ve been fleeing for my life.’

‘I shouldn’t have counted on his virtue. but he didn’t count on my survival.’

‘they’re never gone. do you understand? they still come for you in your sleep. only this time they’re dream-wraiths, not real, and there’s no escape from them because they’re living in your own mind.’

‘your pain will always be mine.’

‘i’m not living my whole life like a beast on a leash.’

‘I should kill you. why can’t I kill you?’

‘you don’t behave rationally around her, you never do.’

‘’all right’ is not a term anyone would use to describe you.’

‘I used to hate myself for living, too. I didn’t think it was fair that I’d survived. that others had died in my place.’

‘it’s not fair. I should be in the ground with them.’

‘it doesn’t go away. It never will. but when it hurts, lean into it.’

‘this life you’ve chosen, you won’t get many moments like this again. but it’s the nights like this that keep you alive.’

‘give up, darling. trust me, this is easier. this is so much easier.’

‘you know, I think I’ve figured out where you get all that self - righteousness.’

‘their blood is on you. you killed them.’

‘I hate you. I wish we were all dead.’

‘do you think he loved you? do you think he ever loved you?’

‘this story will end. the way it was always meant to.’

‘I just want to sit for a second. in peace. can I do that?’

‘I don’t know, I thought maybe— maybe they’d realize that they need me.’

‘you are so bad at this. it’s cute.’

‘people are attracted to power, darling. they can’t help themselves. power seduces. exert it, make a show of it, and they’ll follow you.’

‘I killed him. and I don’t feel bad about it.’

‘stop pretending to care about ethics, it’s embarrassing.’

‘at some point, you’ll have to convince yourself that you’re above right and wrong. morality doesn’t apply to you.’

‘fear turns into despair, despair to panic, and then panic into utter submission. it’s incredible, the power of psychological warfare.’

‘knowing what I’ve done? yes, it hurts. unlike anything you could ever imagine.’

‘they want to erase us. they want to make us better, to improve us, by turning us into a mirror of themselves.’

‘any culture or state that diverges is necessarily inferior. we are inferior, until we speak, dress, act, and worship just like them.’

‘people pay you less attention when you don’t leave a trail of bodies in your wake.’

‘i’m just telling you what’s right in front of you. you know I’m right.’

‘you seem to have mistaken me for a dullard.’

‘it’s a tragedy we’re on different sides. you know that. we would have been so good united.’

‘he’s tried a million different things to break me. but he should have remembered he never figured out how.’

‘lost my mind for a bit. just starting to get it back now.’

‘you think we should just surrender. that we’d be better off under their rule.’

‘that’s the implication of your logic. and I won’t accept that. I can’t.’

‘i’m sure you said whatever you needed to to get them off your back. I don’t care about that.’

‘everything you do convinces them you should not exist.’

‘I did what I had to do to give him the only chance at peace he’d ever get.’

‘you are the worst thing to happen to this country. these people deserve better than you.’

‘you were only ever fighting to survive. I was fighting to win.’

‘we don’t need peace right now. we need blood.’

‘I don’t know what’s insane anymore. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘there is no turning back. i’ve waited too long for this.’

‘I can’t take that from him. not even if he’s happier like this.’

‘there’s more, there’s something you’re not telling me, I deserve to know.’

‘let go of the man you remember. you’re never going to get him back.’

‘in times like these, you can’t let sleeping threats lie.’

‘if we ever feared him, it was because he was great, and great rulers always inspire fear in the hearts of the weak.’

‘you don’t get to forget. whatever you did, you don’t deserve to forget.’

‘she’s not a person anymore. she’s rage.’

‘it’s not just about the enemy. it’s about what the world looks like after.’

‘you’re trying to protect your people. I understand that. but I’m trying to protect mine.’

‘i’m not crawling into oblivion with a whimper, and you should have known that before you came here.’

‘I don’t care what else happens up there. but you come back to me.’

‘what’s this? finally developing a conscience?’

‘I know what you did. I know everything. and I don’t care. the past doesn’t matter. ____ is in danger now, and I need you.’

‘nature can’t be altered. only held at bay.’

‘don’t take on the burden of an entire nation. it’s too heavy. and you aren’t strong enough.’

‘you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.’

‘she told me I’ll never be afraid again.’

‘that’s power. and you’re not giving that up. I know you. you’re me.’

‘I know how humiliation feels. keep your secrets if you want. but there’s nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you.’

‘i’m not going to survive this war.’

‘do you want me to say I’m sorry?’

‘what did I tell you? you were never meant to serve.’

‘if you try that shit, I will kill you.’

‘good luck. don’t do anything stupid.’

‘keep down. and when you get the chance, run.’

‘you never want to hurt them. but you have to. you have to put them through hell, because that’s the only way anyone else will survive.’

‘I would have spared them if I could have.’

‘I wasn’t a person to you, I was a weapon, and you needed me to work.’

‘it’ll never stop hurting.’

‘you love them like your own family, and a knife twists in your heart every time you watch one of them die.’

‘see this through to the end. that’s the least you own to the dead.’

‘I wish things had been different.’

‘I so hate when you’re right.’

‘you kill me and you accomplish nothing. your world as you know it will end.’

‘i’m not going to kill you. you don’t deserve that.’

‘why does everyone think this war is over. am I the only one with eyes?’

‘it’s hard to prioritize the enemy that you can’t see.’

‘don’t call me crazy.’

‘you are being crazy. you’re acting like a fucking maniac. shut up for a moment and face the fucking facts.’

‘they can’t do this to me. I was supposed to win.’

‘we built an entire nation. we don’t have to let it collapse.’

‘what he wants is what we all want, which is to stop killing our own people.’

‘we’re about to have the world we fought for. can’t you see it? it’s so close, it’s just over the horizon.’

‘you can come back. I’ll bring you back. we’re in this together.’

‘we’re trying to broker a peace here. let’s not start off with death threats, shall we?’

‘i’m just trying to make this less painful for everyone involved.’

‘you can’t do this for me. I won’t let you.’

‘it’s not for you. it’s not a favor. it’s the cruelest thing I could do.’

#the poppy war series prompts #the burning god prompts #the burning god sentence starters #literature prompts #literature sentence starters #rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters #weeeeeee I did it <3