#and to me Will isn’t confident in his abilities (canon) BUT shows very clear signs of being confident socially

[willsolaceloml]

Nah idk who lied to y’all but William Solace isn’t socially awkward…

“He’s not confident!” Yeah in his ABILITIES!! Not socially… it’s nowhere stated he isn’t socially confident…

#idk maybe it’s just me! #maybe I’m a weirdo! a freak! #but he’s very clearly socially confident #to me at least… #like #being confident in your abilities ≠ being confident socially #and to me Will isn’t confident in his abilities (canon) BUT shows very clear signs of being confident socially #like cmon #will solace #pjo hoo toa #percy jackon and the olympians #solangelo #william andrew solace #will solace solos #william solace #will x nico #pjo #hoo #toa #will solace hcs

[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

[ddarker-dreams]

Levi Ackerman x Reader hcs. [COMM]

a/n: i haven’t written for levi in many years!! some lock lore is that i used to write for him the most, it’s actually what got me into fanfiction/anime in the first place back in 2012... so it feels very nice to write for him again. i had a lot of fun with this! :’) word count: 2k. warnings: non explicit mentions of death (not involving reader), just canon typical stuff.

Love has been a concept that remains closed off in Levi’s mind. Getting close to others is already a risk too great in the world he’s come to know, a factor that’s proven unfortunately true time and time again. When you’re close to others, it means the possibility of being hurt by them all the same when they inevitably leave. The pain of losing another he’s grown attached to outweighs the possible benefits that could come with a closer connection. This philosophy has ensnared his heart, creating a barrier that no one dared slipping past for many years.

Even though Levi makes the choice to be wary of growing closer than necessary to people, he also understands the importance of trusting in his comrades. He has his own way of mentally assessing new recruits, and didn’t think much of you initially. You were a fresh face, who hoped that your efforts would cultivate humanity’s future. He’d seen many with that spark too many times to count. All of them ending up killed in gruesome ways, or losing the shine in their eyes should they live past another expedition. Though he still has an inherent respect for anyone willing to put their lives on the line for the Survey Corps, this extending to you as well.

His initial assessment of you was proven incorrect. While no longer as naive to the horrors of the outside world, the spark inside of you remains ever bright. There’s determination, that has only grown in strength as time goes on, rather than fading away. It catches his eye, to say the least. He looks after you from afar, without even realizing it. Levi tells himself that it’d just be a shame if something happened to you. He doesn’t think anything beyond that for some time, for his own mental well being.

Your relationship starts off with no romantic intentions. Levi spots you training on your own one day, even after a grueling day of menial work that comes with being a member of the Survey Corps. He’s captivated, unable to look away from your form. It’s sloppy, he thinks, but not hopeless. You’re not hopeless. It doesn’t sound like a high compliment, but coming from him, it’s meaningful.

It’s startling when he approaches you for the first time. He’s pointing out the numerous errors in your stance and what to do to correct them, never mincing his words. Levi’s standing there, arms crossed, willing you to continue with his input. While being under the scrutiny of humanity’s strongest soldier is anxiety inducing, his advice works perfectly. He doesn’t comment further than that, turning on his heels and leaving you to your thoughts and confusion.

Keeping your body in the best possible condition is vital to staying alive. His advice, though delivered in sharp as knives critiques, serves you well. Even just the bare minimum has your technique rapidly improving. This motivation to keep growing and learning is what drives you. Levi continues to watch from a safe distance as you spend hours doing different exercises, developing your abilities. From this point on it becomes something of a tradition, as much as he tries not to think of it that way. There’s a level of subconscious attachment that comes with looking forward to seeing you improve every evening. He’s acknowledged you. 

You start training together. It’s not everyday an opportunity to learn under Levi is offered, so when the hand was extended to you, you accepted it. He’s a tough yet fair teacher, offering praise only when he believes it’s deserved. Unfortunately, he can’t devote that much time to your little evenings due to his other obligations. That makes the time you shared all the more special. Despite himself, he’s looking out for you, and you him. A solid relationship begins to form.

Levi isn’t the easiest person to be around. He’s surprisingly talkative if you get him speaking on subjects that interest him, but his language remains coarse. Once you get used to this side of him, it’s for the better, hours flying by and the night sky appearing before you know it. Unlike others that tend to get offended or avoid alone time with Levi due to his reputation, you remain constant. He never brings it up, though he does wonder why you’re hellbent on seeking him out.

There are still times where Levi holds an internal battle over the unfolding events. He’s starting to like spending time with you, more than just offering wisdom on various subjects he’s knowledge about. He genuinely enjoys listening when you speak, an honor exclusive to you. Through the snark and monotonous comments, there’s clear attachment. 

It gets to the point that his closer comrades even pick up on the unusual behavior, this level of respect typically reserved for no one other than Commander Erwin. Though Hanji is the only one to point this behavior out. Everyone else is too frightened at the prospect of teasing Levi over his not so subtle fondness for you. He really didn’t think he was being so obvious... 

You’re on his mind more than he cares to admits. His mind wonders to you at night, when he’s in town, or even when he sees something silly that reminds him of you. Eventually, Levi’s thoughts almost always connect to you to some degree. He’ll spot something in the windows of a shop and recall how you mentioned wanting something similar, or subconsciously look for your favorite food when walking through market stalls. The thought of giving you gifts is off putting for a while since it’s a clear sign of of tenderness. And dammit, he’s trying so hard not to become attached -- but who is he kidding -- it’s far too late for that.

What Levi is good at is making swift decisions in the heat of the moment, and combat. So he has literally no idea how to approach his developing feelings for you. There are a lot of impulses, such as complimenting you, but it comes out more like an insult than anything. God bless your soul, because you’re going to be putting up with lots of uncomfortable interactions. He’s trying, okay, but he doesn’t know the first thing about romance. 

How he best shows his care for you is helping around in various ways. It isn’t as embarrassing as having to offer compliments, or the other traditional ways of romancing the person you’re interested in. Levi commits to making your life easier in anyway he can. These things range from making sure your horse is in top condition, setting aside rations if he knows you’re too busy to get them yourself, and checking over your equipment personally. He presents all this by saying “You’re prone to making mistakes, so let me do it instead.” In reality he just wants to make life easier for you, don’t be fooled by the prickly comment. 

He isn’t blind to the other elements of his attraction to you. You’re always glowing, an angel incarnate, beauty enough to draw in practically anyone with eyes. It was enough to draw him in after all. The first attempts at physical affection are subtle, yet heartfelt. Sitting closer to you, thighs almost touching. Leaning in closer whenever you speak. Lightly brushing his fingers against his face, claiming he saw a spec of dirt on it. All these things to gauge your reaction and build up his own confidence in pursuing you further.

The first time you kiss would be the night before an expedition. It’s always the most gut wrenching experience, anxiety ailing you so badly that sleep refuses to come. The stars are out, not a cloud in the sky. Levi comes to sit by you, chastising you for not being asleep, and offering no rebuttal when you point out that he’s also awake. It’s a serene moment, neither of you exchanging words for some time, finding comfort in each others presence. You don’t even realize how close he is to you. He speaks, the words insignificant, you’ve already long forgot what they were. 

When your head turns to offer him your full attention, that’s when he leans in. A chaste kiss is pressed against your parted lips. It’s shocking to say the least, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the intimate moment. His lips are softer than you expected. He treats you with unprecedented delicacy, moving back to assess your expression through lidded eyes. When you’re willing to reciprocate he’s more than happy to let you have your way. 

Levi isn’t the best with expressing himself fully through words. His actions more than compensate for this, you’ll never doubt his dedication to you. There’s no need for flowery prose, not when he has proven the lengths he’d go through to keep you safe, bearing all of himself to you. Your relationship isn’t defined by strict terminology, as he admitted to finding stuff like that “a waste of breath”. You both wordlessly acknowledge one another as partners. Any keen onlooker might be able to pick up on this, you don’t hide or put your relationship on display.

It’ll take some time for him to grow more amiable to physically expressing himself. He’s aware of his own strength and intimidating disposition, and doesn’t want to mess what’s possibly the best thing in his life up. So you’ll need to lead in most of those areas. All physical affection is reserved for private moments. Aside from maybe him whispering a sly remark or two in passing. 

The affection he likes receiving from you the most would be: Complimenting his actions, when you lay your head on his shoulder, whenever you do little things to help him out without him mentioning it, and when you hug him. He’s never experienced being held by another human being. So when you do it for the first time, he’s taken aback by how pleasant it is. Your comforting scent, how your warmth envelopes him, and how he can feel your heart beating. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, other than you of course.

The type of affection that he gives you the most would be: Acknowledging your growth in different areas (especially if he knows you’re insecure in one of them), putting his hand over yours, reminding you to take care of yourself, and kissing you on the forehead. Levi is a very proactive lover. He’s got a keen eye, picking up on things about yourself before you even notice them. While he might not always have the most tact, everything he does for you comes from a wholesome place.

Levi remains serious in the public eye. But when it’s just the two of you, or the company is people he’s close with, he loosens up considerably. Most of his jokes go over your head, since he always delivers them with such a deadpan. When he gets you to laugh with his dry wit though, by god does it feel good, he could listen to your laughter forever. It might even make his face heat up. 

You’re capable of making him smile more than anyone else! Though it’s still rare, that just means that when he does, you treasure it all the more. He smiles the most when you lose yourself in conversation. Rambling about your dreams, stories from your childhood, frustrating encounters that you had that day... all of it warms his heart in a way he never thought possible. You’re an addicting ray of sunshine, that he’s hellbent on protecting. 

Levi knows, now more than ever, what he wants from the future. Alongside protecting and expanding humanity’s territory, it’s you that he wants by him, and no cost is too great to achieve it. He won’t lose you -- he’s already lost so much -- so expect him to be protective. There may be limits to what he can do, but they’re all arbitrary to him. Rules and morality mean nothing in the face of ensuring your safety, and he’s vowed this to you. That one day, you’ll have a secure future, forever tied to each other. He might not mention the last part as it’s embarrassing, but the general sentiment is understood. 

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #Attack on Titan Imagine #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #my stuff #commissions

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

Finally watched Hello Future Me’s video floating around my recommended feed, and halfway through his excellent analysis struck a spooky thought! Here’s a theory for the girl in red.

Sane at the Time of the Finale:

Azula’s Downfall Was in Spiritual Revenge

The poetic justice of Zhao drowned by the moon spirit’s other half, Ozai’s power stripped by a full-fledged Avatar... part of what makes Azula’s defeat so unique is her crumbling sense of self, an introspective enemy instead of an outside one. Katara, whose confidence and network of support are pointed out as the mirror image of what Azula could have had, finally gains the upper hand and pins her down.

From birth, the princess endures an environment that perfects and hones her nature to the shattering point. Plenty of signs point to her devolution: the betrayal of Mai and Ty Lee, getting sidelined by her own father at the literal crowning moment, and her irreversible childhood at the center of the snowball effect. But how ‘bout I do anyway, and tie in the mechanisms of the spirit world with Azula’s last moments? The connection is far from obvious, but well and present. The role of another world in weakening such an iron-fisted character visible in the first GIF itself.

I. “Taking you down is the Avatar’s destiny.”

The spirit world is one fundamental half of the Avatar. Its guidance and power are endowed to a messiah-like figure, who masters the four bending disciplines in order to restore and keep balance. It’s constantly reinforced that the Firelord is meant to be brought down by him, that a century of bloodshed is repaid when the warlord’s life is taken, and the end of his corrupt regime is the beginning of a fuller, more peaceful era.

“Aang, you must defeat the Firelord before the comet arrives.” (Roku)

“Your destiny! This is incredible. You will be involved in a great battle, an awesome conflict between the forces of good and evil.” (Aunt Wu)

“I should have seen this war coming and prevented it... But I believe you are destined to redeem me and save the world.” (Roku)

“Because I know my own destiny. Taking you down is the Avatar’s destiny.” (Zuko)

“Everyone, even my own past lives, are expecting me to end someone’s life.” (Aang)

A seemingly inconsequential detail is that the Firelord at the time of the final battle is not Ozai - it’s his daughter. By then, the title of Phoenix King is exchanged for her coronation. The nail on the head isn’t nitpicking terminology, but that Aang already suffered defeat at Azula’s hands. She herself plays a masterful and instrumental role in the war, literally her father’s will embodied. She’s there to hunt the Avatar, lead the massive drill against Ba Sing Se’s walls, orchestrate a coup, oversee the takeoff of the airship fleet, suggest the annihilation of Ba Sing Se in the first place. It’s a long time before we see Ozai at the warfront in the flesh, and even then, the damage dealt by Azula in Book Two and Book Three resonates. Keeping all this in mind, jump to Aang’s death.

“I went down! I didn’t just get hurt, did I? I was gone! But you brought me back.” (Aang, to Katara)

At the end of Book One, when a spirit is killed and revived, balance is reduced to moonless havoc, and all hell descends on the guilty party. The Avatar-slayer would be far from an exception to this counterbalance. So what we witness in “Into the Inferno” - Azula, gruesomely unmade - may just be the most brutal act of vengeance onscreen, and as a direct consequence of this:

While Aang is not directly responsible, it’s safe to assume the spirit world often acts of its own volition. Notable spirits possess harsh views on modernization, and lash out at humanity for its flaws: Wan Shi Tong’s disappearance, the ocean spirit’s wrath, the aye-aye spirit in LoK antagonizing any human presence, the Mother of Faces admonishing vanity and disrespect.

In this vein, the Avatar spirit remains a powerful source of Aang’s strength, weaved into the very outcome of greater forces such as fate and salvation. In the crystal catacombs, Azula threw a wrench into a universal narrative - for an instant, the world really was lost.

And, truth is, we’ve already watched as an entity descended from the Avatar’s power - one who Azula identifies repeatedly as her lifelong plague - haunts her to the point of systemic delusion. Ursa herself, granddaughter of Roku.

II. “You’ve turned my own mind against me...”

Time to reconcile show canon with the comics!

There’s no one who ties more into the tragedy of Azula than her mother. Hello Future Me dredges “The Search” and “Smoke and Shadow” for panels where her condition is exacerbated by fear and animosity. She’s obsessed with the idea that Ursa was pitted against her from day one, and even claims her influence strangled the loyalties of her friends and forced Ozai to “break free of her control.” The possibility of the slightest truth to Azula’s more elaborate fears raises a host of alarming implications. Especially when acknowledging her character is as sharp as a tack - a dulled edge when madness factors in, to be sure, but not negligible.

Is it logical to develop the belief that Ursa was an agent of evil in the royal court? The death of Azulon and her subsequent disappearance... It wouldn’t take long for Azula - aware of Zuko’s fate at the time, and her mother’s resignation to prevent it - to connect the dots. Ursa’s blood relation to the same Avatar that rivaled Firelord Sozin is another thorn in the side of trust. Whether Azula was aware of it or not, the strife born in Zuko, the eternally entangled red and blue dragons, exist to her biology as well. This makes it difficult to ignore a spiritual side to her illness, which draws primarily from Ursa’s “ill” intent.

Azula is also seen embracing the idea that spirits risen solely to take revenge can derail lives, legitimacy, and loyalty. The comics give us a chance to absorb the hidden subtext at face value.

The Kemurikage were born when robbed mothers abducted the children of others as punishment. Fear of the spirits crumbled the warlord Toz’s support and ended his cause. The masquerading dissenters in “Smoke and Shadow” are able to undermine Firelord Zuko’s authority, create a divide between Mai’s family and her father, and sow widespread fear. Curfew, searches, and interrogations shape the beginnings of a “ruthless” rule, eerily evocative of Azula’s much more rapid descent...

So how do Azula’s visions of Ursa, conjured unconsciously or from a little something more, and her steep debt to the world and Avatar link together - forge the ideal weapon and circumstances for retribution?

^ Just like that.

This only covers Ursa’s side of the family, the redoubling of spiritual balance after Aang’s fall like the snap of a rubber band. Azula’s complete undoing has to do with the lashing out of both families.

III. The blue dragon

Now, what was it about that first GIF?

Azula’s health begins to spiral right as she’s slated to become Firelord. Her identity is unraveled and called into question - Ursa made manifest slips through the chinks in her armor, prying at insecurities. Her inner turmoil admittedly makes her a poor candidate for ascension, and at the pinnacle of Fire Nation victory, - the crucial, final stages of the Hundred Year War - past rulers would look down on Ozai’s decision to usher her onto a seat of absolute power. Sozin’s Comet itself is an event that imbues firebenders with enhanced abilities, and it’s been theorized before that the “acting up” of royalty during the finale could be explained as such. The phenomenon may have also caused the reemergence of imperial spirits... and it isn’t too far of a fetch. More on that shortly.

It’s made clear that Azula’s destiny is far from holding royal court. The comics throw around that word, “destiny” a lot, but it’s a given signpost for any projected arc in the world of Avatar. And it ties in nicely with the will and workings of spirits.

Roping predestination with the probable dissatisfaction of the lineage, we finally have a whole picture. The combined force of an upended natural order, demanding the Avatar-slayer’s penance, and a royal bloodline destabilizing her reign in its infancy... planting mistrust and paranoia, and causing rash decisions. From a cherry pit to five minutes’ tardiness, Azula’s clarity and self-assurance are hacked away.

This is inviting the subversion that it wasn’t all in her head. That the Azula who readily accepts the Phoenix King’s declaration is rattled and isolated at best, but far from the composure that took just one afternoon to shatter. Zhao and Ozai face justice at the hands of the spiritual. The third main villain of ATLA might not have escaped due consequence either.

Finally, this scene. Azula, ensconced in blue flames. Is there any suggestion of the presence of spirits?

Azula’s fire is blue for purposes of flaunting her skill and sheer drive for perfection. The hottest temperature is blue in color, exactly her achievement. The technique isn’t bothered with because it saps extra effort, and so Azula’s signature symbol of power is hers alone. Fitting. But the fact remains: after leaving her hands, the fire quickly cools to orange. See below:

This color change isn’t seen in Azula’s throne room. The fire surrounding her is definitely detached from her body.

Now, it’s obvious why the animators didn’t suddenly decide to give the iconic blue a rest... but it’s incredibly intriguing from the imperial spirits angle. If Azula herself wasn’t keeping up the blue flame, then at the time of “Into the Inferno”, we’re staring into the faces of invisible devils on her shoulder, supplying the driving energy from the beyond. Onis whispering unseen evils down her ear that cause her, inevitably, to snap - the voices of Sozin and Azulon, a hundred sprawling generations. The cherry on the top is Ursa, descendant of the liaison between mortal and spirit that Azula personally killed, who torments her long after she’s relieved of the crown.

“Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way.”

Hello Future Me describes Azula’s personality as a Machiavellian type, named after the guy who coined “It’s better to be feared than loved.” Watching her escalation unfold, it’s sad to wonder how someone as fearsome as her responds to being the recipient of that fear - when her own weapon turned on its hilt cuts too deep.

IV. End!

I think the scene above - the girl who opens with this directly after the demise of an admiral who engaged the incarnate of the tides (and swiftly lost), is a bit telling of her fate.

*To clarify, my framing of Ursa’s appearance as spookier than just a figment of Azula’s imagination - *cough* possibly the personified revenge of the Avatar spirit - is NOT meant to demonize Ursa herself! It just offers up an alternative explanation to what Azula hears and sees. Their bond is a poignant standalone, and I don’t mean to hate on the real Ursa/Noriko. Neither does any part of this discredit the impact of Azula’s childhood and history of neglect on her future.

That is all. Thank you for entertaining my theory!

#atla #avatar the last airbender #azula #atla theory #it’s 3 am no regrets

[navigatrixnarrations]

Sometimes Always, Chapter 1: Thieves Alley

The first chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3 as encouraged by @whenimaunicorn. The beginning looks familiar because I posted it as a WIP, but it continues.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and profanity

Words: 2034

Charles Vane once heard that a man can only truly possess that which he cannot lose in a shipwreck. For all the times he’s had to run with nothing but his life in his hands, and those times are many, this most recent is the hardest to bear.

The late autumn sleet beats against the drafty window of his rented room by the wharves. Nor'easters, he learned these storms are called, blowing in off the Atlantic, bringing traffic in the harbor to a standstill and turning the muddy streets into debris-strewn rivers.

Until recently, he spent his entire life in the heat of the West Indies. New York City is cold and unceasingly raw. Its damp chill seeps into his bones and makes old injuries ache damnably. Vane finds himself taking a liking to these storms anyway; they match his mood.

Perhaps he should head to the tavern where he works instead of huddling by the small fire trying to ignore the past. The tavern owner is a freedman, known to give a hand to other former slaves. All Vane had to do was show the brand on his chest and scowl a little, and he was given a job as a bouncer. The irony of it: Charles Vane, notorious scourge of the seas, reduced to breaking up drunken brawls and preventing grown men from pissing on the floor under an assumed name. Still, he’s alive and free, right under the noses of the fucking English…

He’s definitely being followed. He dislikes being followed. He turns to see that several of the tavern-goers are coming toward him, an assortment of weapons in hand. He dryly thinks that times must be hard indeed if they intend to rob him of his pay; split several ways it wouldn’t even be enough for a mug of ale each. A pistol goes off, grazing a leg just barely recovered from the last time he was shot, and Vane staggers. His attackers are nearly upon him when a slightly-built figure leaps between them. A low-pitched female voice, an oddly familiar voice, calls out something in what Vane recognizes as Dutch. There is laughter from the others, and they withdraw.

The woman approaches, her hands empty, reaching down to assist him. He gets the impression of large eyes in an angular face, a dark coat wrapped tight against the mist. Is it? Can it be?

She looks at him as if seeing a ghost, albeit a ghost with whom she is slightly cross. Then she remembers herself. “Charles.” Her expression turns wry. “Did I hear them refer to you as ‘Mr. Thatch’ back there at the tavern?”

He checks her face for any sign of fury, and sees none. “I can’t very well go by my own name now, can I, Miss Teach.”

“It’s Mrs. Sullivan now. And no, I suppose you can’t. I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind you using one of his last names; you’re more his child than I ever was.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, without bitterness.

He forces a levity to his voice that he does not feel. “So you married Sully? How is he, anyway?” At least she wedded a brave man and a kind one.

She shuts her eyes slowly, shakes her head, then reopens them. “He’s been dead three years. Took a bullet to the head in a raid.”

“Margaret, I’m…”

“Save the platitudes, Charles. They don’t suit you.” She looks tired, her eyes far away. “He was right beside me when it happened. He died free and he didn’t suffer.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he possibly say to that. Memories of the three of them as teenagers, skylarking in the rigging of the Revenge. Vane was the strongest, Margaret was the fastest, and Sully, well, Sully was acrobatic and fearless. And Sully made her laugh, something she did far too seldom. Vane envied him that ability.

She turns her sharp gaze back to him. "If you’re wondering what I said to your new friends back there, I told them that while it is clear that the only thing you use your head for is growing hair, entering Thieves Alley alone as you did with a pocket full of coin, it would be cruel to deprive you of it."

In spite of himself, he huffs out a short laugh. She’s studying him, and he thinks she sees the question that he cannot bring himself to ask aloud. I missed you. Did you miss me?

“My last words to you were cruel.” She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “I regret them. I’m glad I have the opportunity to tell you so.” Why did I get you out of there if you’re going to go do her bidding, be her attack dog? She doesn’t love you, Charles, she’s incapable of loving anyone. And now you’re walking right back into another kind of slavery and it was all for nothing. If I never see you again, it will be too soon. She jumped into one of the longboats and never once looked back at him as the men rowed it out to the ship. He wanted to call out to her to stay, that he changed his mind, but youthful stupid pride made the words stick in his throat. In the end he watched her climb the rope ladder to the Revenge, watched her sail out of Nassau Harbor, watched her disappear over the horizon...

Vane holds her gaze because he’s certain that she would not welcome him holding her body. “Everything you said to me was true, though I couldn’t see that at the time. You had every reason to hate me.”

Margaret tilts her head to one side. “I never hated you, though I tried. Never even resented you, really.” She sighs. “I resented my father for wanting a son so badly that he all but ignored me once you arrived, and I resented the hell out of myself for trying so hard to win his approval.” She pauses. “You’re shivering.”

He starts to deny it but Margaret rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, I know, you’re tougher than the rain and wind and you’re made out of pain and hunger, but you’re not dressed for this climate. Let’s get you in front of a fire. I didn’t come to your aid yet again for you to catch consumption in fucking stinking Thieves Alley.” Vane knows better than to argue with her when she takes that tone.

He falls into step beside her and follows her through a series of alleyways, up some back stairs to a garret. It’s two rooms, sparse but clean, a fire burned down to embers in the small hearth. She drags two chairs and a small table closer to the fireplace and gestures for him to sit while she sets about stoking the fire. He finds himself admiring the quiet confidence with which she moves, the deft precision of her hands. That hasn’t changed. The wooden chair feels like heaven after a night on his feet, and the fire quickly warms the small room. He slouches back and stares into the flames while Margaret bustles around, hanging her coat on a peg, boiling the kettle. Unconsciously, the fingers of one hand worry at the scar on his neck left by the hangman’s noose. It’s slight, but it’s there. In most ways he’s recovered from his brief hempen jig. He can sometimes go hours without thinking of it, but there will always be reminders. Much, Vane muses, like his years sailing with Edward Teach and daughter.

Everything hurt. The latest flogging from the taskmaster tore his back open from shoulder to waist, and he could barely stand. His whole body was wracked with fever. He heard a girl’s voice, and a man’s voice, both unfamiliar, distorted-sounding, and then he was being carried. He must have lost consciousness; when he came to, the whole world was swaying and he heard the creaking of boards, waves lapping against the...hull? Why was he on a ship? Had he been sold again? And then a girl about his own age was looking down at him with a grave expression, her hair in a braid and her big eyes curious. “Where am I?” he asked her. “You’re on the Revenge,“ she said, and, seeming to intuit his next question, she added “you’re free now. We’re all free here. We’re pirates.” There was pride in her voice and her posture at that last. He later learned he was free because Margaret Teach talked her father into taking him with them.

In the silence that has fallen between them, his stomach growls. He tries to ignore it, but she’s heard. She fetches bread and cheese from a box on the windowsill, a bottle of rum, and a pair of dented tin mugs into which she pours tea, putting it all on the table between them.

That’s what seemed off. She’s wearing a dress, and it’s all wrong. It flatters her well, but it’s all wrong. A proper pirate like her, dressed like a merchant’s wife.

Margaret raises an eyebrow at the look on his face. “It isn't poisoned, Charles” she says dryly as she pours rum into her tea. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now. I wouldn’t waste good rum.”

He takes the offered bottle and adds a heavy pour to his own tea, then takes a sip and lets it burn all the way down to his belly. “Thrown your lot in with civilization, have you?”

“No.” Her knuckles whiten on the edge of the table and she scowls. “I fucking hate it here.”

He reaches over and places a hand on hers, and is gratified when she doesn’t pull it away. “You’re like me, Magpie. We belong at sea.”

“We do.” Her voice is quiet, wistful. “Nobody’s called me that since Sully died.”

Sully grinned at the way Margaret's eyes tracked the doubloon that Vane set dancing back and forth across his knuckles. “You’re a magpie, that’s what you are.”

“ What’s a magpie?” she asked.

“Very clever little bird, a bit like a crow. They’ll steal anything that catches their eye, especially if it’s shiny, and they’ll have a go at birds of prey many times their size. They live in England.”

Margaret curled her lip. “Fuck England.”

“Fuck England,” Sully agreed. “Rest of it suits you, though.”

Vane thought it was apt for the clever dark-haired pirate girl. His fierce little Magpie.

She turns her hand over in his and gives it a brief squeeze. “I don’t mind you calling me that.” They finish their meal in silence, but it almost feels like the silence of old times. As in old times, it’s easy to fall back into task organizing without needing to discuss it much; he clears up the remnants of their meal while she makes up a cot for him near the hearth.

He hadn’t expected her to invite him to her bed, not really; she never did in the past, and the disastrous choices he made when he was a young man likely destroyed any chance of that in the future. They’re no longer children with a habit of falling asleep in a pile among coils of rope like a litter of alley cats between their watches. But now, all these years later, they’re reunited. It will have to be enough.

From the other room, he hears a sob, quickly stifled. Vane knows Margaret doesn’t want him to know she’s crying, perhaps wants it less even than he wants her to cry, yet how can he ignore the pain she’s in? He tries her door, only to find she’s bolted it from within. He returns to his cot. Eventually sleep takes him, and by some mercy, he does not dream.

#black sails fic #charles vane x ofc #charles vane x oc #sometimes always fic #charles vane fic

[sheikah]

favorite darklina moments?

Anon I’m so sorry because you did not sign up for the crazy long post you’re about to get but..HERE WE GO! (The “read more” no longer functions on mobile and I’m SO sorry to everyone this annoys.)

uM??? Soft. Literally the moment I knew I was trash. He takes his glove off to touch her??? Romance???

Okay so a few things here. 1. This is just my stupid emotions clouding my judgment but I think that if Alina hadn’t cut and run after Baghra told her the truth about him, she probably would have been able to convince Aleks not to expand the fold and instead to destroy it. Why? Well, I know he is playing her throughout the first book but he’s showing a lot of self-awareness here. Knowing he’s the only Darkling means he’s calling his own deeds greedy and evil. I think he might have been convinced to right those wrongs under the right circumstances and I like the vulnerability of this conversation for that reason. In R&R he tells Alina that he only decided to expand the fold and force her to take the stag’s amplifier after she left and “chose…” (clearly meaning chose Mal). Is that a viable motive for the murders he committed afterward? No lmao but I’m trash. 2. Alina is literally 24/7 checking him out. This is her POV. She is constantly calling him “perfect” and other very complimentary things 🤣 3. The inherent longing and romance of that last line. I’m sorry but that’s Good Shit and I love Alina’s dubious response as much as the declaration itself lol. 

I just love the cute lightheartedness of this scene and also the fact that he has taste. I mean we been knew because of The Aesthetic, but still. He knows garish when he sees it.

This whole scene because reasons. Idk man it’s just hot. It’s a YA book so we aren’t going to get the kind of smut I crave but the pining that results from this moment being cut off early is MY SHIT and I love the unexpected soft politeness of what he says before he leaves…

Bitch!!!! Say yes!!! 

This!!!!!! I wanted powerful and uninhibited Alina SO BAD. And obviously, so did he. (And lbr, so did Alina herself lol).

Idk I just love the angst of this. This is a clear admission that just like he was playing her, she was affecting his judgment too. He was a fool. A fool in love maybe??????? Lol ignore me.

On one hand, this is a bit creepy and possessive. But on the other hand I fucking love it. They’re both deeply lonely and at the end of the day? That’s the kind of tragic OTP I thrive on.

And see, THIS is why it’s so important that we get the story in first person. Because while the Darkling IS very problematic and I can see why people who hate the ship are squicked out to some extent, what matters is that we know that Alina still struggles with her feelings about him throughout the whole trilogy. After everything he has done a part of her still wants him and a part of her still acknowledges that he accepts her power in a way no one else really does. Also, lol at her once again commenting on how good he looks.

What can I really say? I live for this. My favorite moments in Alina’s story are ones where she allows herself to confront, if only in her mind, her own desire for power (”I was eager”) and I love that even while she just admitted to loving Mal, she can’t help herself with Aleks. “I could drown in it.” Bitch, me too. 

Just the way this is worded idk. She’s literally killing him. He’s been evil and conniving af. That’s not lost on me. But Alina doesn’t hate him. There’s no, “Just a little longer so I can kill this asshole” or “Just a little longer so I can send this monster to hell where he belongs.” No. She’s sending him “to the next world” and she’s gonna follow? Ok. Nothing to read into that at all.

Everything about this!!!!! “I respect your ruthlessness”??? A line that would work on me lmao. Also I live for hurt and vulnerable Aleks showing this bitterness. He’s allowing her to see that she hurt him, you know? Also love that it’s honesty when she says she wanted to see him. There is so fucking much mutual pining in this ship it’s torture. And even after everything they’ve done to one another they’re still like this!! How dare they! Let me live!!!!

Idk I love this because they’re such opposites in everything from appearance to ideology but they still have this pull on each other that drags them each nearer the middle. He brings out Alina’s ambition and she brings out his softness. Also, “I had a taste for you once” is probably my favorite line in all their interactions. I know everyone else loves “make me your villain” but this line is just sexier somehow and it comes from Alina! Alina toying with Aleks’s desire?? MY SHIT!

Give me dark!Alina! GIVE IT TO ME!!!

SO MUCH in this passage. This is in R&R so by this point the damage and history and pain in this ship is off the charts and Alina is still sitting here thinking about how she wants him. “I didn’t want to go …  I wanted this whispered confidence.” We love to see it. And then there’s his name. I actually love his name. It’s my husband’s name lmao (though he spells it with an x). And I agree with Alina that it’s kind of laughably cute that the big, bad Darkling has such a common (but pretty!) name.

More than that, I feel like a lot of people overlook the significance of this moment. In “The Demon in the Wood” we learn that Aleks was on the run for basically his entire youth. He’s gone by fake names since he was a child. That story is so heartbreaking, being in his head while he’s coaching and drilling himself to adapt to these false names and identities in a convincing way. He couldn’t share his real name with anyone. But what must that have done to his sense of self? Especially being so young, his ability to develop an identity like a normal person was taken away. He must have wanted, for years, maybe even centuries, to be able to be his real self. But he’s clearly never trusted anyone with the truth. Until Alina. And this isn’t soft, naive S&B Alina. This is “ruthless” book 3 Sankta Alina, his enemy in every sense of the word who has multiple times left him for dead (he deserved it but that’s not my point). And he trusts her with this and shares this intimacy with her and it makes me weep ok?

This is sexy. What else can I possibly say? It’s hot. My favorite piece of Darklina art is from this scene lol but I wish there was more fanart of this moment that actually depicted them as they are, with him basically sitting and Alina all up in his junk between his legs. I accept the Darklina isn’t canon but there are no other shippy scenes in the trilogy that match this one imo. THEIR POWER. It’s so good lol.

She literally killed him lmao. She was literally the one doing the stabbing here. She ended his long life and he’s still being sweet with her?????? The last thing he wanted to hear was her voice and his name???? Ok thanks.

K the funeral scene broke me but I am glad they gave him a proper funeral. But what I’m really here for? Alina Starkov’s last line of dialogue and last thought in The Grisha Trilogy is about Aleks and no one can take that away from me.

Anyway sorry for the giant trashy post I just have a lot of feelings about them. This is almost every scene so I failed to tell you my favorite moments rofl. They’re all my favorite. I guess if I had to pick three? The Winter Fete scene, Alina trying to kill them both in the chapel, and “let me.” Oof. 

Thanks for tolerating my insane and overwhelming love for this ship!!!!!

#sry for anyone on mobile i tried so hard to use a cut #darklina #alarkling #answered

[ayameakuma]

Hi, guys!

So, this is one of my many ideas for fanfics (seriously, they are breeding like rabbits inside my head) and I need your opinion on whether you would like to read something like this (it helps me decide if the fanfic idea is worth it or not when friends or other people give their thoughts on it).

Fair warning: This idea may trigger some people because it involves breaking 2 ships from 2 different fandoms that people like very much from what I have seen. I DO NOT INTENT TO START SOME SHIPPING WAR HERE. If this annoys you or you just don't like it, be polite about it, ok? I cannot control what my anime/cartoon infested brain cooks up for a new fanfic. (GOD KNOWS I have TRIED to control them)

Either way, here is a brief explanation of the idea and some explanation on why I chose the pairing(s):

First off, this is a crossover between Miraculous Ladybug and Soul Eater. Marinette, who at the beginning of the story is a 13 years old girl, is the only daughter of Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng. Sabine is a Meister - who is very proficient in wielding a variety of weapons - and Tom is her multi-form weapon. The Cheng Clan is - or better said was - very famous in the world for their weapon wielding abilities and for their assassination capabilities, which some even say that were on par with the Star Clan's.

Marinette, however, was kept away from the weapon/meister world by her parents because they wished she would be able to live the normal life they couldn't. But, that did not last long. Around her 10th birthday, Marinette started exhibiting Meister-like skills, and not normal ones either (you can't convince me that the only ones that show the signs of belonging to one of the side of the spectrum are just the weapon, the meisters must also have like early signs of Awakening as a meister too, right?): heightened sense for danger, her body moving on its own when she feels unsafe/sees someone in need of help, and, the strangest one yet, possessing knowledge of how to use a certain object as a weapon in situations that need such expertise (like, knowing how to and where to wound a wolf with just a throw of a sharp rock/a stab of a pocket knife, in order to protect a classmate of hers). These skills brought her more bad than good. For showing such dangerous skills, she was bullied, called weird or even accused of being a "killer in becoming" (kids are stupid and cruel, let's just leave it at that).

Two years pass, during which her signs of awakening as a Meister become more pronounced. Marinette, who never complained about the bullying to her parents, has had enough and tells them what the kids in her school put her through. Hearing this, Tom and Sabine make their decision and, at the age of 12, Marinette Dupain-Cheng becomes one of the newest students at DWMA.

Here, she meets Adrien Agreste, the son of Gabriel Agreste. Adrien is still a model here and is a weapon. His father, Gabriel, was known as one of DWMA most talented students as a Meister and currently is a top fashion designer, his dream of becoming the Meister that made the next Death Scythe now unattainable due to the premature death of his partner and wife, Emily.

Marinette falls for Adrien, who was LITERALLY the first person - besides her parents - that treated Marinette like a human being and not a ticking bomb in the last 2 years. She decides to become the best Meister she can be and become Adrien's pair and possibly his significant other along the way. Her first female friend in Death City, Alya, supports her with all her might and tried helps Marinette get Adrien's attention. The two are also helped by Nino, Adrien's first friend at DWMA, and Alya's Weapon Partner.

One year later, she finally gathers up her courage to ask him to become a meister-weapon pair with her. Things should go smoothly from here on, right? Wrong. Adrien refuses her and, unknowingly, breaks her heart. Depressed, she ends up crying and questioning her worth over the next week, loosing more and more sleep.

A few days after, she ends up being incredibly late for one class that will have the students make pairs for a "pretend fight" as not only to help them with their partnership (for those who already have partners chosen), but also to observe their performance in a more controlled environment before sending them out to collect the Kishin souls.

Along her there is another student who end up just as late as she is, that student being Soul "Eater" Evans. The two, who never really spoke before (besides the morning greetings or just small insignificant chats) are now put to fight as a Meister-Weapon Pair for this only class.

Durring the class, however, something unexpected happened, and, now, by Lord Death's word, the two have to give their partnership a chance by becoming temporary partners for the rest of the school year. Will Marinette and Soul's partnership end up being a success or an utter failure?

ALRIGHT! So, the above is a short summary of like the first 2 chapters, maybe. And as you can see I already changed a LOT of things from the original setting of Soul Eater. (I have nothing planned on how to input the kwami here but... I WILL come up with something, hopefully) Why? Don't ask me. I have zero ideea how this became a thing in my brain and maybe I will have a more clear idea as to why over time. For now, let's leave that as "it just works and that is it".

Now, as you read I have put Marinette and Soul as a (temporary) Meister and Weapon pair, but their relationship before this arrangement is more inspired from my own life. I basically was in the same class for 1 year with this boy, and, besides the group project and greetings, we have never talked at all. One day we just start talking because we were bored and that boy basically became one of my best friends in like 5 minutes. It is this muted chemistry that only clicks for you once you actually interact with that person in a non-official setting or just happens over the course of the debate of one subject that you both like.

Also, yes, I think that Soul and Marinette will be a good romantic (or maybe platonic) couple too. And since, Soul becomes Marinette's weapon, Adrien becomes Maka's.

Now, to explain why these two Meister-Weapon pairs work:

1.Soul and Marinette (Sonette - the name of the ship - given by my best friend who told me I should post this here)

Due to being bullied, Marinette is very shy in general and the only time she becomes more assertive is during battle, even though the confidence/assertiveness dosen't last long. Remember this is a world in which Mari never got to be Ladybug, and because of this, here she is more meek and dosen't know her own value, nor does she have any self-confidence acquired due to responsibilities such as superheroing or being class president. She also didn't have a lot of friends in school before DWMA, a fact that may end up creating situations in which she is very much overwhelmed because someone did a very nice gesture towards her or she may even end up taking blame for thing that were not her fault at all. As such, someone like Soul, who is confident, could balance out Mari very well, besides the fact that LITTLE MARI NEEDS SUPPORT, GODDAMN IT. She needs someone to reamind her she has worth and get her out of her comfort zone in order to give her a push in a better direction. (In other words: Marinette Protection Squad Assemble!)

As for Soul... well, Soul is stubborn. I think that it will do him well to have someone he needs to look after since it will show Soul's gentle side more. Besides this, Soul is still the same Soul we know and love. Personally, I think that these little changes in a character while still maintaining the canon personality can actually make them seem more alive and it makes character development moments more significant in comparison to the original because we see a new side of that character that the canon did not delve into too much.

2. Maka and Adrien

Look, I love Maka and Soul's dynamics and the same can be said about Mari and Adrien's (if only blondie had a back bone *me being salty about the Lila phases*).

But you can't really say that Maka isn't reckless or that Adrien is not a spineless coward most of the time (hate you too, Gabriel, since it is your fault for this).

Why I think they are good for each other?

Well, Maka could learn to be more attentive towards other people and less reckless. Seriously, there is a fine line between courage and recklessness, and Maka seems to need to learn how to discern between the two. Adrien could be good for this since, in this fanfic, he is more or less naive af and needs to be guided by someone other than his father. Maka, in trying to help Adrien, ends up helping herself to some extent and due to Adrien's stained relationship with his father maybe she will even give her own father, Spirit, a chance to mend their own relationship. (It is just a possibility that I could see after pairing them up)

As for Adrien? Well, in this fanfic idea, at least until Maka gets into his mind, Adrien is not better than a doll for his father to play with. Gabriel controls everything than happens in his life. And since here he is not Chat Noir, the only little escape he has is the school, but even that is conditioned by his grades: "If you do not continue to have exemplary results in your school work, then I see no need for you to continue going there." - Gabriel, at some point in the story probably

His father even chose his own partner based on the level of soul compatibility they have together. Basically, Adrien has no voice of his own.

Maka could help him, simply put because she is reckless. Without Soul there, Maka needs to be told what is a good idea and what isn't, even more so when she is not capable of seeing the answer herself. And so, Adrien has to take a stand and say things with his own mouth. He will end up finding his own voice because he has Maka there. (I low key believe if Marinette was his partner, she will have a lots of problems trying to get Adrien to disagree with her, mainly due to her shyness and feelings for Adrien, but that is just me)

Maka and Adrien even have a similar house situation: they both have only one parent remaining that they dislike (no matter how internalized Adrien's dislike is), but they handle it differently which could be a good influence on the other: while Adrien is obedient to a fault to Gabriel because he wants to please his father in hope that Gabriel won't abandon him for not being enough, Maka defies her father due to her dislike for him and for the fact that he exhibits a perverse behaviour while still saying he is in love with Maka's mom (this pissed me off very much about Spirit but at the same time, give him a chance Maka, look at him; he is pitiful)

And this concludes my rant/ depiction of my fanfic idea.

Again, if you don't like it, that is fine. If you do, that is fine too. I just want to ask you: do you think it is worth writing? Would you read something like this if I did wrote and posted it?

Thank you for your time! Bye!😊

#miraculous ladybug #soul eater #mlb x soul eater #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #maka albarn #soul evans #Sonette #this just came to me #this keeps me up at night #plot bunny #fanfic ideas #someone stop me #hear me out #mlb #story ideas #crossover

[muzzleroars]

It drives me crazy that we never really see the cop that beats joker up during the interrogation. I know he’s supposed to represent the corruption of the cops but I think it could be so interesting if we ever saw him again.

haha guess what this got long AGAIN so a read more!!

this would have been a good way to showcase all the trauma that akira DEFINITELY has but that atlus refuses to show bc it’s u kno. not plot relevant/is too much to deal with in terms of story/would make players only using him as a self-insert upset bc it doesn’t fit their power fantasy THERE I SAID IT. i feel like that guy’s face is entirely seared into akira’s memory and while he only remembers bits and pieces of the torture he endured after they drugged him, there must have been a lot that happened prior to that given how he was dragged down to a secret interrogation chamber. these are cops looking to crucify him for what he’s done and how he’s undermined their entire system - sae even suggests he’ll get the death penalty for what he’s done (which may definitely be a bluff on her part, bc afaik japan only uses that on ppl with multiple murder convictions and never on minors), so it’s extremely clear he’s really in the deepest shit possible and he obviously didn’t realize how bad it would be for him (which we know since the pts didn’t account for the drugs). he’s obviously already a lot worse off than he was in his mug shots when we first see him in the interrogation room, and all of this most likely took place before they even gave him a chance to sign a confession because that option is only presented to him when we start playing (and since the interrogator explains what it is to him, it seems like their torture of him wasn’t to coerce his signature). so they beat him severely, most likely laced with all threats we hear ourselves, and akira would have a crystal clear memory of that. everything after is hazy, but if their blatant sadistic torture of him isn’t enough, he would also probably remember how they gave him multiple syringes full of that drug (his memories of that could be screwed up as it was so close to the drug’s effect taking hold, but also...i guess we don’t have any canon evidence his memory of the event itself is warped, so he may remember EVERYTHING. he can say he can’t remember, but i can’t recall if we have proof that’s true. ANYWAY) but regardless, i know he remembers that cop in excruciating detail, even if he wants to forget him. 

i can’t even fathom how fucked up that shit would have left akira, because no matter what he’s faced in the metaverse, this was SO far from that (and tbh i think all of them are left at least a little messed up by what they saw in the metaverse anyway). he was alone, not aided by his friends or his personas, he was helpless, no longer a super hero but just a high school kid, and he knows there’s only ONE way out - no amount of quick thinking or working on the fly would find an alternative, he has one shot or he and all of his friends are dead. so just. imagine the amount of paralyzing fear when they bring out that truth serum, when they force drugs into him that he doesn’t understand and hasn’t accounted for. shooting him up unknown drugs is dehumanizing and violating enough, but just the absolute, blood-freezing panic of being injected with something so mind-altering and utterly unexpected would devastate him in a state that’s probably already fragile from being beaten and insulted for god knows how long by then. he always had hope before then - there’s a plan, he talked it through with the pts and even if they’re not right beside him, they’re moving on the outside to get him home safely...but the minute those syringes come out, all that security is ripped from him. he’s alone, truly and entirely alone, because they’re going to inject something into him that’ll rob him of his mind and tear away his ability to win over sae, which was already a gamble to being with (albeit one he was confident in taking). i can’t even imagine how hard he fought, just wanting to sign whatever form or say whatever he could to get to sae before that happens and the thoughts that ran through his mind when all that fails - how he’ll die, how his friends will die, how the whole world will fall into ruin.

SORRY for angst-ranting, but this is all just to say...akira would never forget that guy, no matter how long it’s been. that interrogator, to me, would be the one person that akira would genuinely fear to the very core of his being - others can intimidate him or spook him maybe, but this is a kid that can shit talk shido and members of the yakuza, so to me he can sort of sass virtually anyone with seemingly no sense of self-preservation. anyone but that interrogator. i doubt akira would even be able to speak if he saw him again (i love a selectively mute akira when he’s dealing with trauma oof) and i think it would go a long way in showing the other pts just how bad his treatment really was...bc i don’t think it’s appreciated by the plot or the other characters at ALL (little sidebar but like...let me vent and just say i kind of hated futaba telling him to be grateful to the other thieves IMMEDIATELY after this ordeal. like yeah they did all work together to save him but that’s...so shitty telling someone in his position to be thankful to other people RIGHT then. he should be and all but like. really. give him a fucking minute to breathe instead of giving a little lecture on how much THE REST of you did and how it was SO HARD and SO DANGEROUS. IT JUST MAKES ME MAD). it would have given a way to explore that if even a little bit, but again, they don’t want to mess with akira’s silent protag/blank slate status. but to me, akira developed pretty severe ptsd from this, and he has a lot of triggers, including people that look too much like that interrogator.

#I WROTE....ANOTHER NOVEL..... #but the interrogation stuff just GETS me bc akira is my Fav fav of the series #and it is absolutely horrific when you think it over #also generally why i'm kind of uncomfy with 11/20 jokes in the fandom djfbdhgb #ppl are totally free to make them!!! but they're not for me #bc i feel way too much for akira and what he went through #AS YOU CAN SEE I AM SENSITIVE L M A O #sorry to dump all this on u anon i have....feelings u_u #p5 #akira kurusu #akira thots #Anonymous

[foxymuses]

an incomplete list of headcanons for sirius black:

there was a period of about 6-8 months between running away/being disowned and receiving his uncle’s inheritance when sirius had absolutely nothing to his name but the misc junk he’d shoved in a bag when he left the house to go to james. the potters, ignoring sirius’ claims they didn’t have to, bought him a moderate amount of items including but not limited to clothes, school materials, and various items for the room he’d already claimed at their house. when his inheritance kicked in, he tried to pay them back. they refused.

sirius was always more afraid of his father than his mother (which is the opposite of regulus). the reason is that his mother was more concerned with appearances outside the family, but was content to simply act as if sirius didn’t exist when they were at home, which was fine for both of them (and on some occasions, the worst that would happen is she’d scream and yell and be generally unpleasant, and true she’d be the one to force a hair cut or destroy his ‘revolting’ muggle/gryffindor items). however his father was the disciplinarian. his father rarely raised his voice, but was the first to raise a hand or wand to correct behaviors or punish misbehaviors, and though sirius would stand up for himself and was not scared into silence, there were many instances where he would show up to the potters in the middle of the night, or return from mandatory holidays during the school year, with signs of magically induced injury.

following that, sirius is always the first to jump to the defense of others, completely disregarding his own safety or the danger of the situation, and has been known to laugh in the face of those that think they can fight him, and generally doesn’t react to anyone who rises to attack him either verbally or physically, but whenever his father even shifted slightly, sirius would tense and brace, and there were several instances in public where a disagreement would start and though often the marauder’s were nearby and out of ear shot, they’d know things were going poorly because sirius, who never ever shows fear to anyone, would flinch

it’s clear from prisoner of azkaban that sirius could have escaped at any point. all he did was become padfoot and get past the dementors who weren’t looking for or caring about animals (literally his words). there is no true reason he had to wait twelve years except for dramatic story telling. that being said, the shock of the situation prevented any of this from logically settling in his mind for the first few weeks, and then after that, the dementors and their constant soulsucking presence did make it easier for sirius to blame himself for james and lily dying. he convinced them to make their secret keeper peter instead of him, he didn’t try hard enough to keep them safe, he should’ve actually killed peter, fuck what’s happening to harry, where is he, does anyone care about him, is he being taken care of, what’s remus doing, does remus think sirius did it, does remus hate him, is remus okay, it’s another full moon please let remus be okay, fuck if he gets out he’s going to strangle peter --- on and on, and it definitely gave him a huge amount of guilt on his shoulders, and regret, and despair, and while i personally don’t think it would have taken him 12 years to finally fucking decide to leave, it definitely did take several, especially since telling time within the walls of azkaban is near impossible

ON THAT NOTE, HOWEVER, it is this very guilt and anger that allowed him to muster the determination to finally fucking escape. even amidst all this guilt and fear and sorrow, sirius was strong enough to stay sane under the influence of the dementors and his own perceived failure, that he consciously made the decision to trick his way out. it was this very fury he felt towards peter and the injustice that he suffered because of his coward of a supposed best friend that fueled sirius’ ability to withstand the trails of being a prisoner at the worst wizarding prison. once his guilt subsisded enough for pure unadulterated hate to seep in, it was just a matter of deciding the best time to stage an escape

I REPEAT, I DO NOT BELIEVE IT TOOK HIM 12 YEARS at most, i would figure, personally, it happened in four or five. which, while following my canon divergent main verse, would still allow time for sirius to clear his name and fight for custody of harry, which he does successfully, by my canon, when harry is about seven. SO EVEN IF sirius isn’t instantly cleared as my main verse would like, he still winds up a single dad.

he has horrible nightmares after azkaban, regardless of when he gets out or how long he was there or whether he ends up raising harry. i personally would have it so that he and remus end up living together, both because sirius has his inheritance to support them, and because they’re the last two marauders and trusting others is hard for sirius to come by after everything, so living with remus is Safe and Easy, and he does everything he fucking can to make up for all the full moons he missed, but regardless of how Hard he tries to get back to some semblance of a normal life, he has severe ptsd from prison and he doesn’t sleep well and he doesn’t eat much and he drinks more (in verses where he doesn’t have custody) and he smokes a shit ton more and he spends more time as padfoot than he does as a human because being a dog is just so much simpler and he has fewer worries, and remus is fucking worried as shit about him because sirius was always the strongest of the four of them (fight me on this i dare you) and to see the confident, arrogant, and generally easy-going carefree rebel that was sirius black in school turned into a jumpy, irritable, shattered shell of himself is hard and sirius never truly recovers from that damage, he just gets better at hiding it, and he does a hell of a lot better at healing when he does have custody of harry because harry gives him purpose in a way that remus can’t.

when sirius inevitably comes across peter again, he does try to kill him. whether he genuinely fails or subconsciously stops himself because peter, as much as sirius resents and hates and would love to grind him into little rat pieces, was a friend and was someone sirius trusted and cherished and would have protected with his life, and no matter how much he very much wants to kill the bastard, he can’t

shifting gears a bit, but sirius had never and still doesn’t really see himself ever getting married. he never even wanted kids until harry came around, and even then, the only kid he’ll ever have is in my canon divergency where he raises harry himself. in that verse he is more open to a co-parenting relationship (re: when he’s with @gavrele‘s gabe, or if he were to be with remus or another marauder’s era character who survived either by au or in canon), which can be considered romantic or merely a mutual desire to raise this orphaned child, but in that instance, he still probably wouldn’t want marriage, because it makes him seriously uncomfortable just thinking about it, and at the very most he would just agree to mutually wear signifying rings but not actually make it official, so that way if at any point he does feel weird about it he won’t feel bad about taking the ring off for a few days until the feeling passes

he learns of regulus’ dying while he’s in azkaban and listen canon sirius was very ‘meh’ about the whole deal, which really pisses me off, so my sirius was very torn. and it doesn’t help that most people just write reggie off as disappearing, they don’t know the story, they just assume he died in the war or voldemort disposed of him or something, doesn’t matter, he learns that regulus is gone, and his father is gone, and his mother ends up dying shortly before he gets out, and sirius is alone really and truly, and when he returns home for the first time in years, he manages to convince kreacher to explain the situation because even if he doesn’t particularly like kreacher, they both loved regulus, and sirius crafts a makeshift grave for his brother which he visits reguluarly, and though he doesn’t usually say much except “hey reg”, the first time he broke down sobbing because he tried so hard to get regulus to see the right side of the war, but he didn’t try hard enough, and he should’ve worked harder to keep reg safe, what an awful brother he was, he only ever thought of himself, if he just took regulus with him when he ran away maybe they could’ve avoided this, fuck he’s sorry he fucked up, he’s so proud that regulus stood up to voldemort in the end, he doesn’t care if it was for selfishness or fear or whatever, he’s so proud, he wishes regulus would know how proud he is

he actively keeps harry as safe as possible, doesn’t let half the shit that happens happen to him, fully supports and listens to him whenever the kid says ‘something is going on”, talks with him through it, tells him all the stories of james and lily that he can, never treats harry as less than his own blooded son because to him harry is his son, but he also never tries to replace james with himself, and harry knows how much sirius loved james and lily and how sirius only wants harry to be safe and happy, and merlin did he cry the first time harry called him dad and told him that he knows sirius isn’t his real dad but its okay to have more than one dad, he still loves james too he just loves sirius as much, and when he saw sirius almost crying, he asked if that was okay, and sirius could not express how absolutely perfect that was and later when talking to remus, remus had to hold a conflicted sirius for at least half an hour because he adored the idea but god he misses james so much, he wishes this wasnt the situation but it is and fuck it hurts (remus is uncle, by the way)

he literally stands between snape and harry, and dumbledore and harry, and does not let lucius anywhere near harry (and only allows cissa after a tentative no-children meeting, where they agree to not be enemies but rather awkward cousins like they are, and sometimes even let draco and harry play together) and harry is raised knowing about the prophecy, and since he’s raised in the wizarding world he’s not a commodity, by the time he starts hogwarts, everyone has kind of gotten over the hype so he can be mostly normal, and yeah strange things keep happening but the second harry tells sirius (because harry is raised in an open and loving environment where talking about things is encouraged), sirius does shit about it, and yeah voldemort wasn’t vanquished, he is still waiting, and sirius can’t be everywhere, but when harry says voldemort is back, sirius fucking rallies and essentially one-man-armies the ministry into fucking doing something about it because he lived through that hell in his last few years of hogwarts, he lost friends to it, he is not going to watch it happen again and nothing is going to hurt harry period

naturally, this means he doesn’t die in the department of mysteries because when the dreams start happening, harry talks about them with him, and they work it out together.

sirius doesn’t get a job because he doesn’t need one, and all of harry’s inheritance from james is purely harry’s, sirius doesn’t touch an ounce of it, and in fact regularly adds to it of his own inheritance, but sirius is seen roaming random places offering assistance, usually in regards to muggle nonsense (think hands on mechanics stuff) because he’s good at it and he doesn’t know what to do with his time, but he never lets them pay

he helps fund the weasley’s prank store. ron is a little odd, and hermione is sometimes annoying, and boy does he have a soft spot for neville because sirius knows about his parents, and you can bet that rather than lifting the map from filch, sirius straight up gave it to fred and george, and remus later confiscated it from his now-permanent DADA position (or whatever position remus wants, tbh) and sirius got an earful before telling remus he knew the other would give it back to them, which he did

i could continue but i should probably start another post to do so SO THERE YOU ARE

#you didn't ask for it #but here is a list of everything i thought about sirius in my short 15 minute bus ride this morning #;;siriuscanon #THIS GOT WAY FUCKING LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO #AND ALSO FOCUSES A LOT ON MY DIVERGENT SETTING #but idfc i have sirius muse up the wazoo and i need to share it #long post #man i dont usually tag that but fuck this is. this is a lot

[psychonarutoenthusiast-blog]

SASUSAKU ANALYSIS AND DEVELOPMENT (PART 1\?)

Sasusaku is probably one of the most discussed topics in the Naruto fanbase and I think it’s common to find posts like this one on Tumblr. My blog will mainly focus on writing stuff, but still … I’d like to give you all my opinion about this ship trying to analyze the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura from the very beginning. Lots of people tend to say that it’s abusive and underdeveloped. That’s actually one of the things that come to mind first just observing the interactions they share throughout the whole plot. But I personally think that this bond is quite more complicated than that, both in negative and in positive ways. 

This is probably going to be really long so … brace yourselves!

So … the first thing we get the chance to see when introduced to both manga and anime is this annoying little girl with pink hair who’s literally obsessed with the coolest guy around. Basic, isn’t it? Actually … Sakura’s first impression is not positive at all, mostly according to the male audience. She looks arrogant, she’s mean and cocky towards Naruto and everyone who’s not “Sasuke-kun”. But why? Is it just a personality issue? Nope, it’s actually way more complicated than that.

Sakura was indeed bullied from a very young age and she grew up being really insecure about her physical appearance and her abilities in general. Developing a bond with Ino … who was - on the opposite - really confident, intelligent and pretty … didn’t necessarily make things better, in my opinion. Hoping to overcome the inferiority complex she felt towards her and basically everyone, Sakura started to imitate her and slowly decided to leave her true self behind in hopes to become cool. It was the only thing she wanted as a kid. Being recognized as a pretty girl and talking with the popular guys may look like a pretty stupid wish, but that’s not what a naive and bullied kid would think. The only reason why Sakura chose to develop an interest towards Sasuke resided in the fact that - by getting with the coolest guy arund, the guy everyone (mostly Ino) wanted to be with and look like - would have proven to others and to herself that she was cool too, and that she deserved to be praised and desired like he was. 

“Would being mean to Naruto make me cool? Everybody treats him wrong, so that must be reasonable”, “would my long hair make me more beautiful and draw Sasuke’s attention on me? Probably!”. Such thoughts led Sakura to completely repress her true self, reducing her identity to an angry and despised ghost that used to appear quite often in the show, so that we could know what she was really thinking about: Inner Sakura. And those same thoughts justify her terrible behaviour in the first part of the anime and the manga.

When I first saw the flashback about Ino and Sakura’s friendship I was completely shocked by the way she acted towards Ino. She returned a precious gift and she basically threw away the confidence and the affection Ino had given her for a boy who acted like a total jerk. I was like “she’s a bitch, to be honest”. Ino herself looked so hurt by her words it made me hurt too. But … analyzing the scene and the panels knowing more about Sakura’s character development, I understood why she did that. Returning the ribbon meant returning the shy and insecure part of herself who needed Ino as an example and as a shield from others. Fighting for Sasuke was not meant as a real “love rivalry”. None of them really cared about his true personality. They considered him as a prize for the coolest one around. They didn’t know shit about him and this is soon proved ... in Sakura’s case.

The panels pretty much speak for themselves. How could she possibly love someone as damaged as Sasuke without knowing a thing about his past or the extreme sadness he was experiencing at such a young age? Obviously she didn’t. The only thing Sakura cared about was his handsomeness. This is one of the first canon interactions Sakura and Sasuke share (both in the anime and manga) and not a soul on the planet would think that a romance could actually blossom between them, given the assumptions.

This is what Sasuke reasonably tells her after hearing Sakura’s inappropriate words about Naruto and parents in general. And most importantly … this is what Sasuke really thinks about her during the first stages of this relationship. He barely knows her and she doesn’t possess particular abilities that could waken his interest either. She’s just an annoying little girl with a weird hair color who keeps drooling after him with no apparent reason. His expression in the panel says it all. Romances are the last things Sasuke could think about and he seriously couldn’t care less about someone who doesn’t have a clue about what suffering looks like. Sakura’s reaction to his harsh words actually surprised me a lot when I first watched the scene. I was convinced she would burst out crying, but she didn’t. She immediately started to process what Sasuke had told her about loneliness and she decided that she would try to empathise with Naruto and his situation. Being the naive fangirl she was, I really didn’t expect her to act with such maturity. This detail is actually more important than it looks like, because it tells us that the real Sakura is still there.

Shortly after that conversation, Team 7 is formed. The creation of this group is unique and the bonds each one of the members develops with the other three (Kakashi is included) are almost curative in their own way. The team brings out the best part of its components, it gives them love and it gives them a purpose. I actually don’t know how much it passes between the group’s formation and the mission in the Land of Waves, but I suppose it’s a couple of months. During these months, Sasuke … Sakura and Naruto come to learn what teamwork is about and - most importantly - they start to consider each other as friends. Spending so much time with the boy she was physically attracted to, Sakura begins to know more about him as a person. She becomes familiar to his cold behaviour and she lets her interest deepen into something a little more important than fangirling. She trusts him deeply. Sasuke - on the other hand - starts to see Sakura as a real comrade. He now finds Sakura and Naruto’s presence in his life really comforting. Thanks to Naruto’s enthusiasm and Sakura’s sweet attentions he can try to overcome the sadness that embraces him. Yet it’s still too early for things to change in Sasuke’s point of view, probably because he knows that if he opened up to these weird people he could call “friends” … he would distract himself from his true aims. 

The Land of Waves Arc is actually more important than it seems, talking about Sasusaku. Especially for Sakura! The reason is simple. During this Arc, not only we can openly see that she never overcame the inferiority complex she had, but it becomes clear as the sky (to us and to her) that what she felt towards Sasuke was not just a crush, and surely it was not all about his cool appearance. 

A lot of Sasusaku shippers insist on the fact that Sasuke saving Sakura from one of the Mist ninjas has to be considered as an important moment for the ship, but I don’t really agree on that. He would have done the same for Naruto, and he was basically just proving his abilities against an opponent he knew was way stronger than him. That’s the reason why he acted all mighty and cocky with the poor Naruto afterwards. 

THIS is the most important moment, obviously. Sasuke risks his life to protect Naruto and basically everyone thinks he’s dead. Sakura’s reaction is just priceless. I cried like I was dying myself as I read it. The speech she gives us - between tears - about the rule according to which a ninja should never express his true feelings was so beautifully written it made my heart ache. I personally find it amazing how Kishimoto succeeded in putting those deep words on the lips of such a young girl making them sound like the realest thing she could have said in that situation. This is the moment in which Sakura realizes just how much Sasuke really meant to her and how terryifing the perspective of living without him really was. She doesn’t have the maturity to interpret the deep nature of her feelings yet and to react as a consequence, so she just lets them out. She is going to let them out openly for a long time … but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Talking about Sasuke’s reaction instead … I’m forced to admit that the anime did not the best job it could have done to show us how he really felt in that moment. He really didn’t know what to say or how to act for this girl who was screaming because she wasn’t prepared to face a future without him. He probably didn’t even expect it. He didn’t think he really was that important to her. Just look at his expression in the panel. He’s almost relieved she’s there.

We then get to the Chūnin Exams Arc, which is the most important arc for both their characters’ development and their relationship’s one. It is now clear that Sasuke considers Sakura as a real friend. She’s not just a companion anymore, she’s someone he’s willing to protect. A lot of people tend to deny this, just because Sasuke doesn’ say so explicitly. Aren’t they forgetting about the fact that Sasuke rarely expresses his feelings openly? Probably.

Before they sign up for the exams, Sakura is feeling extremely insecure about her abilities, and she’s convinced she shouldn’t even take part to the test. Both Naruto and Sasuke proved to be incredible during the Land of Waves Arc. They managed to defeat Zabuza and Haku without Kakashi’s help, unleashing great powers and supporting each other just as it should happen in every team. But … what had she done? She couldn’t even prevent Sasuke from risking his life, fearing for her comrades’ state. Clearly she’s afraid to mess up during the exams and she’s worrying about the fact that she could drag both Naruto and Sasuke in her distress. As I was saying earlier, Sakura never overcame her inferiority complex. As she brings herself to the Academy, Sasuke is the only one who notices her anxiety. He describes her attitude as “weird”, whereas Naruto - who likes  her so much - doesn’t even notice. Sasuke later cheers her up - as we see in the panels - and reminds her about the qualities she’s so insecure about. He actually smiles to her, and he appreciates the fact that his words let her regain confidence in herself. If that’s not what a friend would do ...                                

#sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #sasusaku #naruto #naruto ship #naruto discussion #sasuke #sakura #naruto anime #naruto manga #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake #team 7

[serenlyss]

Don’t Thank Me Yet Chapter 3

Rating: M (guns, murder, ptsd, canon typical violence, mentions of torture) Pairing: ritshou Summary: “Alright then. I’m Shou,” he says, introducing himself more properly this time. “I’m an esper, like you, the first in existence to be forcibly awoken by Claw’s crazy torture machines. They kidnap kids with potential latent psychic powers and break them, over and over, until either their powers emerge or they die. It doesn’t matter either way to them.” His expression hardens as he speaks, clear distaste and outright malice evident in his tone. “I could really use your help here, you know. A partner of sorts, someone to watch my back. What do you say?“ Ritsu hesitates. He isn’t a fighter by any means, and the psychic powers now churning beneath his skin are still very new and frightening. It’s all very overwhelming, but Ritsu can’t help but feel a sort of sickening hope at Shou’s promise for revenge. It did have a sort of dark draw to it. In which Claw is a lot worse than they seem and Shigeo isn’t able to find his brother after he’s kidnapped. Crossposted to AO3: Chapter 3

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

Here's chapter three! This one's a longer one and I spent a lot of time editing it to make sure it landed well, so I hope you all like it! Thanks to @wiz-witch for beta reading this chapter!

“The base is one of the old types. We know the floor plan well,” Ootsuki debriefs. “Higashio found it after tailing an unmarked black vehicle to the outskirts of Seasoning City. You can probably guess why it sounded so suspicious.” He turns to look over his shoulder from the passenger seat of Higashio’s car, expression grim.

Ritsu swallows thickly. The description is eerily reminiscent of the car he’d been shoved into after being beaten to near-death by the Claw esper who had kidnapped him, the kind with tinted windows and sound-proof doors. “There might be other esper kids there,” he says, expression hardening in fierce determination.

In the four months he and Shou had been working together, they’d destroyed quite a few Claw bases, but only a few had actually housed kidnapped espers, and none of them had shown signs of being significantly powerful psychics. None of them had been extended the offer to join Shou’s resistance, either, their powers too new or too weak to be of much use.

“You had exceptionally strong psychic powers as soon as you were awakened,” Shou had told him, not long after they’d first met. “It’s why I offered you the job in the first place, and it’s why Claw is so intent on finding you. Most espers are weak when they first awaken. If they were all as powerful as you were, you wouldn’t have been able to make as easy of an escape as you did.”

“Do you think there might actually be kids in this one?” Ritsu asks, glancing to his side.

Shou sits beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. His brow furrows in thought, and he frowns. “If there’s a chance, we have to take it,” he says firmly. He’s dropped his usual snarky cheerfulness for an air of calm resolution, a look he always gets when he’s focused on a mission. He sits up. “We’ll go with our usual formation: Ritsu and I will head for the basement and pick up any prisoners we find while the rest of you take the top floor. Take out the Scars on sight, but play it safe; Today’s not the day to take risks.”

Ritsu can’t help but agree. It isn’t often that they get back-to-back intel, and taking out two Claw bases in two days is certain to leave them worn out and more than a little battered. He’s already beat up enough from the last mission, the glass cuts on his arms and foot still fresh, so he won’t be able to fight at full throttle if a brawl breaks out. “We should be as fast as possible,” he adds, glancing at Shou. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

On Shou’s other side, Fukuda gives a brisk nod. “Yes, there’s no use in staying longer than we need to. Usually we would take the time to find hints of the enemy’s plans, but it may be too dangerous to do that this time around,” he agrees.

Shou sighs, obviously a bit disappointed, but he doesn’t argue. “Alright, we’ll be quick, then. In and out, and we blow the place sky-high as soon as we regroup.”

Murmurs of assent fill the vehicle, and then the group falls silent as Higashio drives them all down a forest road. Ritsu looks out the window; it’s already long past sunset, the sky black and dotted with white stars overhead. He feels a familiar fluttering in his stomach, a nervousness that makes his heart rate pick up and his breathing come a little quicker. He gets it anytime they go off on a mission, subconsciously preparing himself for being back inside a replica of the lab that had tortured him only a few months ago, and even though he’s never stepped foot inside this particular building, he remembers the layout of it vividly.

He feels a hand rest lightly on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the blurry trees outside. Shou isn’t looking at Ritsu, gaze fixed on the floor of the car as he waits for Higashio to announce their arrival, but the comfort is still there. Ritsu lets out a breath and forces himself to relax a bit, focusing on the weight on his shoulder.

It takes a few more minutes of driving before Higashio suddenly takes the car off-road, carefully weaving through a sparser part of the woods in search of a place to stash the car. Ritsu grips the handrail over his head and Shou reaches out to grab the back of the passenger’s seat. Ritsu can see the anticipation burning in his gaze as he leans forward, eyes searching for that gray concrete building through the gaps between the trees.

“We’re here,” Higashio says, putting the car into park. Ritsu immediately pushes open the car door and climbs out. A light, cool breeze stirs his hair, and he absent-mindedly adjusts the black gloves on his hands. It’s a cold night for it being summer.

Shou steps out beside him, squinting into the trees. “We’re too far away to get a good look. Let’s get a bit closer and scope the place out before we go inside,” he instructs, fiddling with the hems of the pockets of his jacket restlessly. He worries the seams between his fingers and thumb, tugging at loose threads in an attempt to relieve some of his restlessness. He strides forward without even bothering to see if the others are following, single-mindedly focused on his goal. Ritsu can practically feel the apprehension radiating from him. It’s not like Shou to get worked up over a mission; he must be feeling extra concerned over this one.

Ritsu shakes his head and falls into step a pace behind him, and the rest of the group follows close behind. He speeds up a little so he can walk beside Shou instead of behind him, peering down at his resolute expression. “Hey,” he says, “we’re gonna be fine. We’ve done this a dozen times already.”

Shou casts him a glance, eyebrows raising slightly in a faint show of surprise. Then a small grin breaks out on his face, and he turns his gaze forward again, squaring his shoulders. “Yeah, I know,” he replies, letting his hands drop from his pockets to hang open at his sides instead. His posture is more relaxed now, more like what Ritsu’s used to seeing from him.

They walk a bit longer before Shou pauses. The concrete walls of the lab can be seen now, illuminated by the bright white lights that circle the outside of it. Ritsu pauses beside him, casting him a glance while he waits for Shou to execute their plan.

Wordlessly, Shou lifts a hand and gestures for Higashio, Ootsuki, and Fukuda to separate from them and make their way to the other side of the building. “Larger groups are easier to spot. Go around to the back way, Ritsu and I will go from the side,” he says, keeping his voice low and quiet in case anyone’s hiding nearby.

Higashio gives a brief nod and leads the way into the trees, Ootsuki and Fukuda close behind. Ritsu figures he won’t see them again until they leave the building.

Shou crouches down in the tall grass surrounding the outer edge of the lab’s property, and Ritsu follows his lead. “The fastest and easiest way in is to use invisibility,” he decides, turning to look at Ritsu.

“I’ve only been able to do that in practice,” Ritsu points out, biting his lower lip hesitantly. “I’m sure it would work fine for you, but-”

“If you can do it in practice, you can do it here,” Shou says firmly, with clear confidence in Ritsu’s ability.

Ritsu sighs. “You said today wasn’t the day to take risks.”

Shou grins at this, a familiar sight at this point. His stiffness from earlier has all but disappeared, his apparent nervousness replaced with an easy assuredness. “Yeah, but this will make things ten times easier, I counted,” he says matter-of-factly. “Besides, we’re already beat up enough as is. The less people we have to fight to get inside, the better.”

Well, he does have a point, Ritsu thinks to himself begrudgingly, and pushes himself to his feet. “Alright, then. We should hurry, before Higashio and the others start fighting,” he says, letting his aura leak out and swirl around him.

“Wait,” Shou says sharply, tugging Ritsu back down by the sleeve of his black shirt. He reaches down and unclasps something from around his leg before offering it to him. It takes Ritsu a moment to realize that it’s a gun: a pistol, silver and carefully cleaned, free of rust and grime. Well-used. “Take this,” he murmurs, gripping the pistol by its barrel as he points the grip at him.

Ritsu’s throat goes dry and his body goes stock-still. His hands feel clammy all of a sudden. “That’s a weapon. For killing people,” he says, voice wavering.

“It’s a weapon for protecting yourself,” Shou retorts, not lowering his hand. He holds Ritsu’s gaze steadily, fierce blue eyes boring into him in the darkness. “I know you don’t like the idea of using one, but I just…” he trails off, gaze flicking downward somberly. He looks uncharacteristically worried, when he would normally approach these missions with an upbeat optimism and cockiness. “Just keep it on you, okay? If everything goes well, you won’t even have to touch it.”

Ritsu hesitates, eyes locked on the gun’s reflective surface. It feels wrong, so wrong, but he reaches out and accepts it anyway. He’s only shot a gun a few times, all under Shou’s teaching, but he’s never brought one into a fight before. It feels cold and ominously heavy in his hands. Shou passes him the holster as well, which Ritsu reluctantly accepts and secures around his upper thigh. He slides the pistol into it, the weight noticeable on his hip, and carefully secures the strap over the top of it to keep it from falling out accidentally. “Alright, just in case,” he says softly. When he straightens up this time, Shou follows close behind.

“Thanks,” he murmurs simply, staring resolutely down at the Claw base instead of meeting Ritsu’s gaze. “You can just consider it a last resort. We’ve never done back to back missions like this before, so I guess I’m just… I have a feeling.”

Ritsu doesn’t want to think about what a feeling like that might mean, so he doesn’t ask any further questions.

Shou takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and Ritsu sees his bright red-orange aura begin to encircle him. “Showtime,” he whispers, and in a flash both he and his aura disappear. In his place, a tiny wisp of his aura blinks into existence, something for Ritsu to focus on so they don’t get separated.

Ritsu has to squint to make out the little place-marker. It’s so small that it would be unnoticeable to anyone who isn’t specifically searching for it, a little orange flicker that hovers in the space where Shou’s heart would be. “Give me a minute,” he says to it, furrowing his brow and closing his eyes as he attempts to replicate the disappearing act. It’s difficult to continuously bend the light around him while also keeping his aura tightly contained, and if he isn’t careful he’ll tip off all the espers in the area that he’s arrived, so he makes sure to take his time and do thing right. He focuses on the mental image of what he’ll need to do, reaching out with imaginary hands to bend something he can’t actually touch with fingers that feel nothing and cannot be felt by anything else.

When Ritsu opens his eyes again, he can see the distortion around him, falling over him like a second skin a few inches shy of touching him. It shimmers in different colors as light rays attempt to touch him and reflect off the sort of barrier he’s constantly maintaining now. He takes a breath and focuses on keeping his aura close and contained; it won’t do to get inside just to have his own lack of control be the thing that gets them caught before they’re ready.

“Okay, let’s go,” Ritsu murmurs to the little flame at his side. He feels a hand lightly slip into his own, Shou’s hand, and the flicker goes out immediately.

“Stay close.” Shou’s voice sounds from beside him, giving off an air of disembodiment despite the fact that Ritsu knows he’s still very much present. He feels him tug on his hand, descending the hillside toward the building with feather-light footsteps. Their joined hands feel like they’re submerged, and their auras swirl around them, shifting, touching, but never mixing, like oil and water. Ritsu keeps a firm grip as they pick their way down the hill.

A handful of weak espers guard the front door of the building, and Shou keeps a wide berth to avoid alerting them. Instead, he heads for the side of the building, to a single door illuminated by a lone white searchlight. A guard stands outside it, leaning against the wall with a bored expression on his face. Ritsu can tell immediately that he has no powers to his name. Probably security, he thinks.

Shou taps a finger against the inside of his wrist twice, a signal for him to hang back and wait, and then the hand leaves his.

He feels strangely abandoned, his heart dropping in response to Shou’s sudden disappearance. It’s uncomfortable not being able to see or sense him, but Shou isn’t gone for long. His eyes trace the ground where Shou’s footsteps bend the grass until he stands just behind the security guard.

The man crumples to the ground a moment after, knocked down by a swift blow to the head. Once he’s down, Shou drops his invisibility and reaches into the man’s pocket, rifling around until he finds what he’s looking for: a key card that will let them enter the building. He waves a hand for Ritsu to follow him, holding the card up against the electronic lock.

Ritsu drops his own light-bending barrier, letting out a breath. He reaches up and wipes away a few beads of sweat from his forehead that had formed during their descent down the hill, then falls in behind Shou as he cracks open the door and steps inside.

The gray concrete walls that fence them in are immediately familiar to Ritsu, and he swallows back the brief panic that comes over him as the door falls shut behind them. The hall is empty aside from the two of them, branching off in three directions.

“We’re headed for the basement,” Shou murmurs to him, turning left and striding down the hall. Ritsu keeps close to him, eyes searching for any signs of life. He glances nervously over his shoulder, but there’s no one in sight, the halls empty and quiet. He rubs his arms as if to suppress the goosebumps that raise beneath his long-sleeved shirt, and hopes they won’t have to stay for long.

Ritsu knows that Shou’s been in enough of these bases that he’s memorized the layout, each one a perfect copy of the last. His directions are quick and confident, leading them on the quickest path to where potential allies might be hiding. Getting any kidnapped kids out is always their top priority, and Ritsu knows the basement cells well. He’d spent a majority of his two days locked in them, sleeping on the cold floor and trying to make himself scarce. The image of the long, dark hall, lined with barred doors, is forever seared into his brain.

Shou leads him to the basement door, which swings open easily to reveal a stone staircase leading down into the dimly-lit depths. A puff of cold, stale air spills out from it, sending a shiver up Ritsu’s spine as it tickles his legs. “You ready?” Shou asks, casting a sideways glance at Ritsu. There’s an unspoken question hidden in his light blue eyes that comes across in his hesitation and the way he defaults to Ritsu to lead the way down.

Ritsu takes a calming breath and nods firmly. “Let’s go,” he says, putting as much confidence as he can muster into his words, and takes the first step into the stairwell.

With no windows to the outside or even a vent to let in fresh air, the basement truly does feel like a prison. The air is thick and suffocating, bringing with it a sense of dread that clings to Ritsu’s skin and makes his hands feel clammy even beneath his dark gloves. He clenches and unclenches his fists restlessly, focusing on keeping his footsteps light and quiet like Shou always does. It smells like dirt and dust and, faintly, blood, the slightly metallic edge of it making Ritsu’s stomach turn. He stubbornly ignores the occasional brown stain on the concrete beneath his feet.

Shou sticks close to Ritsu’s side, casting occasional glances his way, and Ritsu pretends not to notice. He always seems to pick up the habit when they’re within the Claw bases, and Ritsu can’t help but feel defensive about it. After all, Shou had also spent a considerable amount of time in the confines of the Claw bases, had the same bad memories Ritsu did. In a way, Shou is even worse off, knowing that it had been his own father that had supplemented his nightmares, and yet he continues to put Ritsu’s feelings in front of his own, in little ways. Ritsu tries not to let it get to him, bites his tongue to keep from calling Shou out on it.

“I’ll check the cells up front, you take the back,” Ritsu suggests, casting Shou a sideways glance. “It’ll be faster if we split up.”

Shou hesitates, obviously not fond of the idea of splitting their already-small party, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, alright. The quicker we get through this, the quicker we can get out again,” he murmurs, making his way toward the back of the hall. His steps echo softly in the empty space.

Ritsu can tell there’s no one down here. If there is, they’re being incredibly quiet and have no aura to speak of, and his thoughts are only confirmed as he walks by empty cell after empty cell. He’s somehow relieved and disappointed at the same time. On one hand, it means that Claw hasn’t kidnapped anyone recently, at least not in this area. On the other hand, it means that anyone who might have ended up here is already gone. Ritsu swallows down a lump in his throat at the realization and crosses his arms, trying to ignore the way his stomach churns. He lets out a sigh, turning his back to the basement door as he heads in Shou’s direction. “Nothing,” he calls, his voice carrying in the quiet.

“Nothing here, either,” Shou confirms, moving to meet Ritsu in the middle of the hall. “Let’s go wait for the others at the top of the hill. Once we’re all out we can blow this place up and get the hell-”

Shou’s instructions are cut off by the boom of the basement door swinging roughly open. Ritsu whirls on his heels, shocked, and barely manages to raise a barrier around himself and Shou before a torrent of fire collides with it. The blue and purple surface of it nearly cracks under the force of the attack, and Shou curses under his breath, arms raised to instinctively shield his face.

“What the fuck? How did they find us?” he yells over the noise of the flames outside the barrier.

Ritsu can already feel sweat beading on his forehead as the temperature inside the blue-and-purple dome rises steadily. “How am I supposed to know?” he snaps back, hands raised in front of him as he fights to keep the barrier up. “Do something!”

Shou spits another string of curses under his breath, squinting through the flames. He thrusts out a hand after a moment, and Ritsu hears a dull thud followed by an angry shout. The flames dissipate around him, and when Ritsu drops his barrier he sees the form of a man pressed up against the back door. Shou has a tight grip on him, his bright orange aura keeping the man firmly in place. Ritsu immediately notices the angry red line that crosses his eye: a Scar.

“It’s just pyrokinesis! Don’t panic,” Shou says confidently, but Ritsu has his doubts after feeling the strength of the attack aimed at them.

Shou’s hold doesn’t last for long. The Scar breaks through with force and rushes forward at a speed neither of them are expecting. In a second he’s inches away from Ritsu, one menacing hand raised to strike and coated in white-hot fire. Ritsu barely manages to stumble back enough that he isn’t impaled by the attack, but he feels a burst of burning pain in his upper arm that tears straight through his long-sleeved shirt and sears his skin.

“Ritsu!” he hears Shou cry, ducking a second strike that threatens to singe the hair off the top of his head. He can’t see where Shou is, too busy trying to keep himself in one piece. He raises a barrier as the Scar throws a punch in his direction, but his fist goes clean through it, shattering it like glass. Ritsu feels the burning fist sink into the side of his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. His mind goes fuzzy for a moment, pain ripping through his arm and cheek. Get up, he tells himself vehemently, pushing himself to his hands and knees. By the time he’s regained his footing, Shou’s had time to intervene.

He has the Scar on the defensive, somehow, managing to keep up with the larger man’s bursts of fire and impressive strength despite his smaller size and weaker stature. He sees Shou reach out a hand and throw the adult esper across the room, into an open jail cell, and then Shou is running to him, eyes wide. He grabs Ritsu by his uninjured arm and pulls. “Let’s get out of here, there’s no reason to waste our time,” he says urgently.

“Y-Yeah,” Ritsu agrees, still somewhat dazed. As Shou tugs him down the hall, though, the Scar breaks free of the rubble he’d fallen into and exits the cell. At his side, Shou freezes, still clutching his arm.

Ritsu makes a split-second decision as he sees the Scar prepare another attack, and crowds Shou into a nearby empty cell. Behind his back, a pillar of fire fills the hall. Ritsu throws up a barrier for good measure, but the fire stays on its path, the flames never passing the now heat-warped barred wall. “That was too close,” he breathes, hand shaking.

“We need to get out of here,” Shou pants, looking equally as worn out as Ritsu feels. There’s a dark bruise forming around his left eye already, and he’s gripping his right arm tightly. “We can’t afford to wait around until the other Scars come join the fun, we’re beat up enough as is.” He eyes the fresh burns on Ritsu’s skin. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ritsu replies immediately, stubbornly ignoring the way his burns sting in protest to his words, “except I probably just cornered us.”

Shou flashes him a devious grin, the kind that lets Ritsu know he has a plan, and he promptly goes invisible. “Shou!” Ritsu hisses, feeling a panic well up in him against his will. He can hear the Scar approaching, his footsteps loud in the empty hall, but Shou is already gone.

The Scar appears in the doorway like an ominous shadow, hulking over Ritsu’s slight form. He blocks the exit with his broad body, but doesn’t attack. “It was a mistake for you to try and infiltrate this place,” he growls, deep voice gravelly and cruel. It sends a shiver down Ritsu’s spine as he presses himself against the back wall, trying to put as much space between them as possible. “I’ll give you one chance, boy. Come quietly and I won’t burn you to ashes.”

Despite the fear coursing through him, Ritsu manages a defiant grin. “How kind of you to offer, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass. I’m really not keen on being kidnapped a second time,” he snarks, because if he’s going to go down, he’s going to go down with his pride intact.

The Scar has the nerve to look disappointed, which only adds fuel to Ritsu’s burning annoyance at this situation. “What a shame,” he laments, “you could have been quite powerful.” Then he raises a hand as he has so many times already.

Ritsu squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself. Any day now, Shou! he prays vehemently, but there’s no sign of his partner yet. He summons another barrier despite the fact that he knows it’s too weak to do anything but save him a few seconds of time, but the fire doesn’t come. Instead, the Scar lets out a surprised, somewhat pained shout.

Ritsu peeks open one eye, and sees that Shou has thrown himself on the Scar’s back, one arm wrapped tightly around his neck in a chokehold. As the Scar reaches up to grab him, Shou leaps back, flashing Ritsu a look that says, “Do it now!”

On instinct, Ritsu thrusts out a hand and throws the man backward with a surge of telekinetic force. The Scar crashes into the back wall and disappears behind it, throwing up a thick cloud of dust and debris.

Ritsu goes to stand by Shou outside the cell, grimacing. “What took you so long?” he accuses. “I could’ve died, you know!”

Shou just laughs, unhindered by Ritsu’s accusatory words. “Aw, come on, Ritsu, you know me better than that,” he replies, elbowing Ritsu gently in the arm. “I’ll never let that happen.” He casts a glance at the dusty air where the adult esper disappeared moments before. “As much fun as it is saving your life, though, we’d better get out of here. I bet reinforcements are already on their way.”

Ritsu nods his agreement, and the two of them hurry for the basement door. Ritsu reaches it first, raising a hand to turn the handle and let themselves out. His fingers barely brush the dingy metal before he feels the Scar’s huge hand grab him by the throat. He lets out a strangled gasp as he’s lifted off his feet effortlessly and thrown like a baseball across the room, thoughts turning to static as he fights to reorient himself. His back collides with hard concrete, the breath knocked out of his lungs as the wall behind him cracks. He falls onto his hands and knees, fighting to breathe, and faintly realizes that if he wasn’t psychic, he’d be dead on the spot.

The thing is, though, he doesn’t feel psychic anymore. He pushes himself up onto his knees, reaches out to attack, but nothing happens. He can’t feel his aura thrumming under his skin, can’t feel the way it presses at the back of his mind like a constant reminder of how powerful he is. His breathing stutters, cold dread settling over him like fog. The hand held in front of him shakes. “My powers… I can’t use them!” he stammers, disbelief and fear clouding his judgement.

Shou’s fallen back to put some space between them and the esper, who stands with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Shou casts him a shocked glance. “What do you mean you can’t use them?” he demands. He turns around in time to put a barrier around them both, a giant fireball colliding with it and sizzling against Shou’s bright aura.

“As soon as he touched me, my aura disappeared,” he explains as quickly as he can, because they’re in the middle of a life-or-death battle and dammit, this isn’t the time to panic! He stumbles to his feet, but he can feel his legs quivering. Even without the fear settling into his bones, he’s exhausted from having to defend himself and emotionally drained from being confined within the thick concrete walls that remind him way too much of things he doesn’t want to think about right now. He clutches his head, willing his heart to stop thudding so hard.

“Ritsu, keep it together!” Shou cries, chancing a wide-eyed glance over his shoulder, and in his distraction the Scar rushes forward again and shatters Shou’s barrier with a clenched fist. Shou yelps, a sound that quickly turns into a choked gasp as the adult esper lifts him off the ground by his throat in one smooth motion and pins him up against the wall.

“You’re the boss’s brat,” the esper realizes, tightening his grip. Shou’s aura retreats back into his body and then blinks out entirely, like it’s been sucked up by a vacuum. Ritsu can see that much, but when he calls on his own power, buried somewhere inside of him, nothing responds. “You’ve been a real pain in the ass to us lately. Well, your father will know what to do with you. Go to sleep now,” the Scar continues, an annoyed scowl on his face.

Shou glares back at the man defiantly, but Ritsu can see the fear that forms behind his anger at the mention of being sent back to his father. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His face is turning red. He grabs the arm holding him in place tightly, his knuckles white as he attempts to pry the man’s grip off of him, but without his aura to supplement his strength there’s only so much he can do. His gaze flicks to Ritsu, searching, pleading.

I have to do something, his frantic thoughts scream at him, even as his hands shake uncontrollably and he hears the blood rushing in his ears. If I don’t move, it’s over. They’ll take him, they’ll kill me. What can I do without my powers?

With a shaky gasp he recalls the weight on his hip, the metal pressed against his thigh through the fabric of his pants, and he knows what he has to do. He reaches down with fumbling fingers and undoes the strap holding the weapon in place, his fingers curling around the handle of it. He pulls it out and flicks the safety off, pointing it at the esper before he loses his nerve. Shou’s eyes go wide in noiseless shock, but the Scar is too focused on him to notice until he hears the click of a bullet being loaded into the barrel. By then it’s too late to react; Ritsu grits his teeth and pulls the trigger.

The noise of the gunshot is deafening and echoes grimmly in the empty hall, the recoil sending jolts up Ritsu’s arm. He doesn’t wait to see if the shot even connects, quickly firing off a second, third, then fourth round. The Scar’s grip falters and both he and Shou fall to the ground.

Shou catches himself on his hands and knees and sucks in a deep, desperate, gasping breath. Then he immediately starts to cough, the force of it shaking his whole body as he fights to get oxygen back into his lungs.

Pain shoots up Ritsu’s burned arm and he chokes on a pained cry. His hand spasms and he loses his grip on the gun, which clatters to the floor and lays still. He drops to his knees beside it, his shaking legs no longer able to support his weight. It’s over, Shou’s free, they’re both alive.

He feels sick.

Across the hall from him, Shou finally manages to get his feet under him. He stumbles to Ritsu’s side, clearly still shaken, and says, urgent and worried, “We have to go.” He grasps Ritsu’s arm with quivering hands, face pale, and his wide-eyed gaze flicks back and forth between the basement door and the esper laying in the rubble as he scoops up the gun and shoves it back into the holster at Ritsu’s thigh.

Ritsu stares at his hand as Shou hauls him to his feet. His aura unfurls around him, as though flowing out of a faucet that’s been turned off for a while. When Shou tugs his arm toward the basement door, he pulls back. “Wait,” he says, then raises his injured arm, the one Shou isn’t clinging too, and blows a hole in the far wall. He doesn’t bother with subtlety, because they’re way past staying hidden. Beyond the hole, he can see trees.

Shou doesn’t hesitate, and neither does Ritsu. They both make a break for the hole, clambering over the concrete rubble, and neither of them look back at the unmoving shape on the prison floor.

They don’t stop running until they’re deep in the forest, so deep that they can’t even make out the glaring searchlights of the Claw base anymore. Ritsu gives way first, stumbling on the uneven ground and falling onto his hands and knees. Pain flares in his burned arm as he does, and he feels the dirt and rocks dig into his scarred palms through the fabric of his gloves. His breathing comes in labored gasps, and he feels tears run down his face and wet the ground beneath him, brought to the surface by his pain and desperation and the overwhelming anxiety welling up in him.

Shou stumbles to a halt and quickly turns back for him, dropping to his knees and gripping Ritsu’s shoulders with both hands. “Ritsu?” he asks, voice shaky and hoarse.

“I killed him,” Ritsu whispers, voice coming in short, breathy sobs. “I didn’t even hesitate.” He lifts his head and looks at Shou’s face, sees the blossoming bruises that appear at his throat in his periphery.

Shou swallows visibly, his breathing hitching as his expression breaks from his previous desperate fear to an intense surprise and deep worry, as though he’s only just realized what’s happened, what Ritsu’s had to do. He pulls Ritsu in by his shoulders and squeezes him tightly. “You saved me,” he manages in reply, voice cracking.

Ritsu clings to him, digs his fingers into the back of Shou’s shirt and buries his face in his shoulder. He’s exhausted and overwhelmed, and he can’t bring himself to stop the sudden overflow of emotion despite the fact that they aren’t safe yet. Shou holds on just as hard, one hand pulling him in by the back of his shoulder while the other lays flat against the small of his back.

Only when Ritsu finally starts to calm down does Shou move, gently pushing Ritsu away. “Hey, we have to get moving, alright? We just need to find the car, and then we can rest,” he urges, standing up and tugging Ritsu along with him.

Ritsu nods, not trusting himself to say anything, and lets Shou help him to his feet. Shou lays an arm around his shoulders, half-guiding him as they both begin to walk again. His thoughts race, and he folds his arms around himself in an attempt at self-comfort as he focuses on not tripping over tree roots and tall grass. Shou’s hand is tight on his shoulder, gripping him as though something might pull them apart at any moment. He hardly notices when they finally stumble upon the car minutes later.

Higashio rolls down the driver’s seat window as they approach, looking simultaneously startled and relieved. “There you are! We’ve been waiting for ages, what happened? Did you-” he cuts himself off when he sees just how badly beaten and tired they are.

Shou squeezes Ritsu’s shoulder. “Change of plans, we don’t have time to blow this one up. Let’s get back to the hideout as fast as we can, Claw’s gonna be looking out for us.”

Ritsu half listens as Shou crowds him into the back of the car, immediately pressing himself into the back corner as though to make himself as small as possible. He scrubs at his eyes and cheeks with the palm of one hand, wiping away the leftovers of his tears. He doesn’t cry or shake anymore, just leans against the car door until his arm throbs and doesn’t say a word. Shou doesn’t speak either, sitting close enough to Ritsu that their legs press together, and Fukuda climbs in beside them and closes the door behind him. Higashio wastes no time in starting up the car and beginning the long drive back, just as eager to leave as the rest of them are. In the passenger seat, Ootsuki casts occasional glances back at them. Ritsu can’t see his eyes, his black bangs falling over them, but the frown on his face gives away his clear concern. He doesn’t say anything, though, nor does anyone else. Shou rests his elbows on his thighs and lets his face fall into his hands, taking deep breaths that still sound hoarse and labored.

Ritsu tears his gaze away from the purpling bruises on the side of Shou’s neck and presses himself into the corner, staring out the window and feeling a familiar daze fall over him. He knows that he’s probably dissociating, his mind going quiet as his eyes stare through the trees without really taking anything in, but he’s too tired to care. He knows that he should be feeling scared, or ashamed, or regretful, or angry, or something, but instead he just feels numb. He faintly wonders if this is how his brother feels when he’s trying not to let his emotions control him. Eventually he even forgets to think, vision blurring out as he fixes his eyes on a point in the distance and doesn’t move again until the car pulls into the house’s driveway.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #ritshou #kageyama ritsu #suzuki shou #mp100 fanfic #fanfiction #blood #murder #ptsd #guns #torture #serendipitousfics

[ganymedesclock]

An add on to my other ask because I’m suddenly in a Lance™ mood: specifically, Lance is characterized a lot by fandom as super self-sacrificing, and I’m wondering what your two cents are on that?

Well, since my first part of the reply (didn’t know you were sending more) was mostly about how to help anchor character reads in canon, I feel more comfortable talking more about my own read here.

So you have to consider Voltron in general has a thing of… character balancing, just like a fighting game. All of the pilots are set up in a certain way, with strengths and weaknesses. So they have an “ideal” style, strategy, mentality, that their skills are built to accommodate.

For example Hunk literally flings himself in the line of fire to protect his allies all the time, but nobody thinks of him as self-sacrificial, because thanks to the way the Yellow Lion is built, Hunk’s almost never even close to in danger from it. His willingness to provoke weblums, slam into fighters, put himself between the Ark of Taujeer and a scalding acid pit, etc. makes sense because he’s driving the most heavy-armored Lion of Voltron. He’s able to take that punishment, no problem, and that’s why he allocates it onto himself and away from his allies.

Lance is similar, and one of the greatest contentions I have with a lot of Lance fanon is it feels like they don’t look at what are his real strengths. Because a huge amount of fanwork, in particular a huge amount of langst, depicts him basically like a fish drowning.

The Blue and Yellow Lions are Voltron’s legs. Literally. They’re larger than Red and Green, and have a more docile temperament. Again, they’re very literally the stabilizing and supporting cores of the team. Red and Green are both unstabilized- Red by passion, and Green by an insatiable, ravening curiosity and desire for personal growth- she’s the embodiment of change and new thinking so she’s never quite content living the same way all the time. Green is the only Lion who didn’t just awaken a power her paladin didn’t have before, but obtained, and gave to Voltron, a power that hadn’t existed before- Pidge gifted Green the ability to cloak.

But there’s a reason both Red and Green are lighter-armored, smaller, and more vulnerable. That’s the price they pay for their changeable, volatile natures. It’s reflected in their elements- fire blazes up, gutters, dies, and is rekindled. It’s not stationary and it’s not a constant. Trees grow, die, decay, crumble, sprout again. Neither forest nor flame is the same minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.

Compared to that, land and sea have an inherent nature that lives by geological time. Parts of them can change, rage, storm, but the overwhelming nature of it remains the same. The seafloor doesn’t suddenly breach to sunlight.

I mentioned with Hunk- Hunk is the physical, practical defender of the team in a lot of regards. He is often the most wary of strangers, and from the start, he’s the one who airs the question of “Okay, but… do we know for sure we have to fight these people? We might be able to appease them. What are the consequences of that?” and when the consequences mean it’s not worth it, he drops the subject.

Lance isn’t as much of a protector- but it’s been mentioned in official interviews that Blue’s character is the nurturer, the healer, a kind of mother figure out of the Lions. Blue is loving, compassionate, empathetic, and an emotional healer.

And that’s the regard where we see that Lance takes up other characters’ burdens, because he’s best suited to handle them. This is Lance’s area of expertise.

Because Lance talks about his feelings, earnestly. And he does so in a manner that is very effective. He will air his own negative self-talk, but also challenge it in the same sentence.

So I think the problem here is people over-focus on the negative things Lance says and not how much he challenges them. They focus on “Seventh wheel” and not the annoyed way he says Laika doesn’t have to agree with him that quickly, and, “They wouldn’t keep me around if I didn’t contribute something,” or the fact that Lance’s ultimate word in that episode is confidence. Nobody prompted him to make that shot or made him believe he could- he said, with certainty, to Shiro and Pidge, people he worried might not value him, that he could make that shot, and did, and when Shiro commended him on it, Lance’s response was smug. It wasn’t shocked or awed.

Lance knew his good quality, he highlighted it, he was hurt when Pidge didn’t seem to have noticed it about him, and talked about that with Laika, and his ultimate conclusion is “No, I am good at this, I am important, and I can have confidence in my skills.”

Which, frankly, Lance talking shop about his feelings is impressive. It’s something I find very relatable about Lance because I’m someone who tends to try and dismantle my thinking aggressively a lot. If I feel something I want to figure out why I feel that. This level of pedantic dismantling of a cartoon show? I do this with my life. Hell, that’s the whole reason I’m here, is because I got invested in surgically dissecting why and how stories make me feel things.

And that, I feel like, is what Lance is doing, not wallowing in his feelings. Rather, as someone who swims freely in the realm of emotions, these things aren’t unknown to him, they aren’t unstoppable- he doesn’t leave them where they can fester and hurt himself and others. He roots out his own destructive thinking and questions, challenges it. If he’s feeling bad and someone around him even seems to be listening- as the case of Laika who probably didn’t actually understand most of what he was saying- he’ll talk about it.

This is the sign of someone who’s not just emotionally healthy but prodigiously so.

So this all comes down to: Lance is good at emotions. He’s good at his own emotions, and he’s good at other people’s emotions. It’s rare that we ever see him actually get manipulative, but, we’ve gotten a few glimpses that if he was a little less discerning and a little less empathetic, Lance could be as much of an interpersonal mastermind as Lotor is:

S1e1, Lance, having identified Pidge is sorely emotional about Kerberos, casually brings it up in an unrelated conversation purely to observe her reaction. He then, valuing sincerity, drops his uninterested facade and explains why he’s poking her, but he easily could’ve left it up and feigned that it was a coincidence.

Earlier in that same episode, he baits Iverson into chewing him out to distract him from Pidge, something that goes off without a hitch since neither Iverson nor Pidge actually seem to realize he did that.

S4e4 tells us that Lance is the only person out of the team who can act. And he acts well. I went on a big ramble about this but the point of all of Worm Coran’s assigned roles is they’re totally incongruous with who the paladins really are. But Lance not only takes this contradictory identity and runs with it, it’s one that he picked up on his own. So Lance can, without a hitch, pretend to be someone who he fundamentally isn’t. He’s a performer, he’s an actor, and he knows how to make a crowd love him by showing them what they want to see.

Again- these are exactly the type, and level, of skills that Lotor plies to devastating effect in s3e1 and pretty much the only difference between them is Lance cares enough about being sincere to people that he’ll show his hand.

We have seen Lance be more directly “sacrificial”, in terms of his action in s1e4, but looking at that scene…

Lance realizes something is amiss, again, because of emotions. Rover doesn’t respond to him properly, and isn’t following Pidge the way it normally does. It’s acting contrary to its personality- and Lance, in a span of five seconds, with one question, plays ‘spot the impostor’ with a faceless robot he’s known for like two days and hasn’t spent much time with. I’ve cited this before but it tells us quite how good Lance is at reading people emotionally.

And what happened before that?

Coran is one of the first relative strangers we see Lance really open up to, and they have a warm, sentimental moment about homesickness. This is a pretty big deal considering Coran, from his perspective very recently, lost his own home, and had specifically left the party to check on Lance and make sure he was okay, and Lance opened up to him in earnest.

There’s a real, strong emotional connection here. And when Lance realizes that’s not Rover- and they’re in the room with something dangerous- his response?

He throws himself at Coran to protect him.

Remember, Allura stated in s3e2 that the quality that the notoriously hard to impress Red Lion found worthy and noble in Lance is his ability to prioritize the wellbeing of others above personal gain.

That’s what’s afoot here- it has nothing to do with Lance’s insecurity or thinking that he’s less important. It’s that- in moments of necessity, in dire situations- Lance is driven by a clear sense of importance, and a lot of compassion.

In s1e4: Whatever the hell is happening right now he’s not letting it get Coran.

In s3e2: he’s still nursing his own disappointment about being rejected by the Black Lion, and it does hurt to see Keith get the position- but this isn’t about winning. Keith is terrified and upset and feels like they’re doing this to give up on Shiro, and it’s setting off all kinds of trauma and fears of rejection, and Lance can’t sit by and watch Keith be in that dark place without trying to say something to reassure and support him. 

And this stays through s3e3- Lance is frustrated with Keith’s decisions, but he determinedly sticks with him and tries to talk him around, never once giving up on getting through to him or holding it over his head when Keith flat-out admits Lance was right all along. His focus is much more on the fact that, again, this all is born from Keith being in an awful place mentally.

And there’s a reason I say with certainty Lance isn’t sacrificial because of low self-esteem, because we can contrast it with someone who definitely is: Keith.

Here’s the thing about Keith’s sacrifices. They tend to be completely senseless. The ones in s4e1 and s4e6 jump out but he was doing this all the way back in s1e11- where he attempts to solo Zarkon and gets his ass handed to him spectacularly.

Keith’s sacrifices are poorly conceived, and he usually has the barest idea that he’s actually accomplishing something. The goal he’s trying to bite off is so comically oversized as soon as he mentions it, you can’t help but go “Keith… no.”

No, Keith as a rookie Lion pilot who’s barely been flying this thing for maybe two weeks tops is not going to take out Emperor Goddamn Zarkon in single combat without any backup whatsoever as Coran spends the entire time trying to tell him.

No, Keith sitting in a standard imperial fighter ship which we’ve seen a Lion’s jaws crush like paper thousands of times is not going to breach the barrier of an imperial battleship when we’ve seen the Yellow Lion slam a much lower-caliber barrier upwards of ten different times before finally getting through it. As Matt was trying to tell Keith.

The only reason Keith survived either of those situations was someone else intervening- Shiro in s1e11, and Lotor in s4e6. 

Conversely, when Lance sticks his neck out? He was only heavily injured once, when he had no idea what was coming and had no time to react to it outside of trying to protect Coran, and other times, when he does have a better idea of what he’s going for, he usually will succeed at his goal even if he bungles certain steps (such as s2e2, infiltrating the palace and giving Hunk the antidote). There’s no sense of Lance going headfirst into an awful situation with no chance of success and having to get dragged away by someone else saving him.

The difference between Lance and Keith taking risks at personal expense is the very difference Kolivan in s4 tries to grill Keith about- that as the leader of an organization that deals with frequent losses where members live with the reality their buddies aren’t often in a position to rescue them if they get in trouble, he can tell perfectly well that Keith isn’t operating with a sense of big perspective- he’s taking poorly conceived risks and not worrying about them hurting him.

If anything, I always read Lance throwing himself over Coran to shield him from the explosion as a lot like Lance in s1e1 running up to Allura to catch her. It’s his inherent compassion at work more than anything else- he sees someone else about to get hurt and that stirs him to action faster than his practical evaluation of the situation. Again, in s1e4, it feels more than anything else like Lance just plain didn’t know it would hurt him as much as it did because in the moment he was more worried about Coran. Thinking of himself- and thus, his mentality towards himself- didn’t even factor in.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #Keith #readmore

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

The Marvel of Trelsi (Part V)

I’m back to continue unpacking the sheer beauty of the Trelsi friendship and relationship during the canonical movie series, using the following template:

11 Signs of a True Friendship

So far, I have demonstrated that Trelsi fit the bill when it comes to: 1)-a wholehearted acceptance of the other, and 2) sticking with each other through thick and thin. It would have been incredibly positive to see scenes where Troy returned this favour, as the introductory scene between Troy and Kelsi gives a clear blueprint as to how much he values Kelsi, her feelings and how quickly he sees her inherent worth.

Let’s continue with the list.

Question: What makes the Trelsi friendship and dynamic so friggin’ special? Why does it make me want to weep and write poetry?

3- “They are happy for your successes, and congratulate you when you reach a new goal.”

The best examples for this are demonstrated with Troy’s reaction to Kelsi’s growing confidence and success as a composer*. Of course, this is entirely thanks to his kindness and consideration of her in the first place, but he does not ever try to overshadow her success by claiming credit. There are smaller indications of this, such as him gesturing to her after HIS successful callback audition, after which she receives applause, or his surprised smile and applause after she wins the scholarship to Juilliard. Sadly, that is such a tiny scene, as is usually the case with Trelsi interaction. Another example is his thumbs up during the HSM III musical, a quick way of showing his approval of her work even though he (outrageously) had not been there to see the beginning. 

But by far the best example is when Kelsi stands up to Sharpay during HSM I, right before the callbacks. Previously, Ms Darbus had indicated, perhaps understandably, that Troy and Gabriella’s lateness would cost them their chance at an audition. I always considered Kelsi’s upset to be melodramatic until I began studying her character in earnest and realizing that it is so important to her that Troy gets his chance to perform, because of what it represents for her as a person. She is empowered by Troy, and his success is a symbol of that empowerment. So devoted is she to helping Troy succeed that she overcomes her intimidation and apprehension towards Sharpay for one glorious moment:

[S] “You REALLY don’t wanna do that.”

[K] “Oh yes: I really do!”

*mic drop*

Troy’s reaction pretty much says it all: he’s impressed, he’s astonished, he’s proud, he’s quietly suppressing his own amusement at this verbal slam-dunk. In fact, I see smugness written all over his face. Overall, the pride shines through, because it means that Kelsi has taken his advice and encouragement on board, and fully understands her own potential. This is a triumph for her character arc and for the film’s overall message, and a testament to how Troy has an undeniable positive effect upon those around him. 

The movies have a greater slant towards Troy’s success in each one, and Kelsi is instrumental towards him achieving that success. Not just because she writes the songs for him to perform, but because she is eager for him to participate, devoted to nurturing his talent and delighted when he finally accepts his love of performing and shines onstage. It’s no exaggeration to state that Kelsi is the main motivating force behind Troy’s success throughout each movie; it cannot  be Gabriella, since the latter shows no consistency or loyalty and is quite willing to throw away all of Kelsi’s hard work on a whim and without apology. However, in line with what the movie wants us to believe, it should be Gabriella, who shows reciprocal concern in building Troy up. Once again, the movie inadvertently gives to Kelsi a role that should have been fulfilled by Troy’s girlfriend. His success is her success. Once again, they are on a completely equal playing field; they share each other’s highs and lows. Kelsi’s insistence upon Troy’s participation in her musical ideas can definitely come across as over-zealousness, perhaps even have a “Number 1 Fan” vibe, but I believe that there is genuine commitment to Troy’s potential and future behind it. Kelsi does not do so for her own glorification; in fact, if you study the performance scenes in the movie series, she rarely ever takes centre stage. It is ONLY when Troy moves towards her (as he does each time) that she gets a few moments under the spotlight. And she appears to be content with this. Why? Because it’s all about him, and her irrepressible desire for his success. In each performance scene, her excitement, pride, admiration and delight for Troy’s superlative performance abilities are small but bright lights-- far more touching and meaningful than the romantic signalling between him and Gabriella. The thing is, you can take Gabriella out of the equation and you’d have Troy centre stage, still pouring his heart and soul into performing. But you cannot take Kelsi out of the equation, because she’s the steady rhythm behind him, motivating him to reach his potential. Such selfless devotion is never shown by Gabriella throughout the entire movie series. 

4- “You feel totally comfortable around them, and they probably know things about you that many others don’t.”

Here we come to a significant disadvantage of limiting Trelsi scenes throughout the movie canon; we simply don’t get to see Troy and Kelsi hanging out when they are not rehearsing/working on music/performing. This is a great shame, because from the little we do see, Troy and Kelsi are completely comfortable with each other. The fact that Kelsi thinks nothing of holding his hand on two occasions is a significant sign of this. On the two occasions, once in HSM II and HSM III, both include Kelsi leading Troy to the piano; in other words, leading him to what the two of them share in common on an emotional level, which is a passion for music and performing. It appears to be a silent message. And Troy trusts her completely, allowing Kelsi to teach him a song on the very night of the Lava Springs Talent Show, and in HSM III, allowing her to pick him back up when he’s missing Gabriella. It is not necessary for Kelsi to hold his hand at all, which is why it did strike me when watching HSM II and HSM III in the early days. Comparatively speaking, she (Kelsi) is not Gabriella. Furthermore, the two have known each other for less time than he has known Gabriella and, more importantly, his team-mates. Should Troy have reacted in surprise, perhaps? And yet he does not react at all. He lets her take the lead, and follows without question. Interestingly, these two times occur when Gabriella is absent, which gives the impression that in the wake of Gabriella’s absence, it is Kelsi who steps in as his source of comfort, understanding and encouragement. Given that Kelsi is the only one who holds his hand for these reasons, it lends to the notion that Troy shares some affection with her, which appears different to that which he shares with Gabriella. It is, interestingly, not a simple case of substitution. It’s something else with its own merits entirely. Troy accepts this. He values it. These observations led me to Trelsi after watching HSM III. 

And that’s what really underpins the Trelsi dynamic: unspoken understanding. At the end of the day, there is little dialogue between Troy and Kelsi, which still frustrates me. But in many cases, there doesn’t need to be. Troy and Kelsi only have to look at each other, or make a gesture to know that they are on the same wavelength. That when Kelsi takes Troy’s hand, it’s a sign of encouragement and a method of spurring Troy to action. He understands that without question. This certainly doesn’t happen between Troy and anyone else, particularly not Gabriella. But in theory, Gabriella should be the one to pick him up both emotionally and literally with one gesture, right? A better comparison would be Troy’s friendship with Chad, in which Chad is there as a chief source of support. But this support is volatile and inconsistent, largely dependent upon whether Troy is doing things that Chad wants, and fitting an image that Chad has created. When the two of them are discussing their respective futures, they are miles away from each other in philosophy: Chad believes in the predestined and Troy believes in uncertainty. However, Troy and Chad’s friendship has the advantage of longevity; it is Chad who knows far more about Troy than anyone else. But doesn’t it speak volumes when Kelsi, a girl whom Troy has known for a significantly shorter amount of time, is more attuned to him than his best friend since pre-school? Obviously, I have a Trelsi bias, but had the script showed more of Troy and Kelsi together, I can see Troy confiding in Kelsi, because he knows that there is no judgement with her; no predictable scoffing, as he gets from Chad, no condescending laughter, as he gets from Gabriella. We have to use a lot of imagination in this regard, but the canonical scenes don’t contradict speculation. 

5- “They meet you halfway- they don’t expect you to always be the one to reach out to them.”

This one may be more relevant when it comes to comparing Troy and Gabriella’s relationship to the potential of Troy and Kelsi’s relationship, but as I have already said, there is no imbalance in support when it comes to the latter two. On the contrary, the Wildcats rarely reach out to Troy when he is struggling, as I discussed in the last post. It is he who must accept his culpability and must also be the friend to Chad and co., regardless of how much he might have suffered or struggled, regardless of his side of the story. Such a massive imbalance displays itself in every movie. In HSM I, Chad reaches out to Troy after realizing that betraying his trust to sabotage his relationship with Gabriella was wrong. But what he says to Troy is striking: “We’ve just had another team meeting.” I assume that he means the Wildcats. But isn’t Troy part of that team? Shouldn’t they have had the team meeting WITH Troy, explaining their duplicitous actions? The fact that Troy was not even aware of this “team meeting” demonstrates the gulf between him and people alleged to be his friends and team-mates, as well as explaining why they don’t often reach out to him. 

6- “They make you feel happier and more alive, not drained and stressed.”

Again, I will discuss this in more detail with regards to Troyella, but it is clear that Troy and Kelsi sincerely value their friendship and the consequences of their interactions with each other, whether in a happy or sad time, are nearly always positive. In HSM III, the squee-worthy hug had Troy smiling all the way up to the piano, giving him the encouragement that he needs to carry on without Gabriella. Later on, when Kelsi tells him that things will be fine, he looks somewhat reassured, despite having messed up on dance moves and songs throughout rehearsal. Earlier in HSM I, Troy is truly liberated when rehearsing “Breaking Free”; Kelsi is entirely on the same wavelength throughout as well. There’s just no comparison when it comes to the Wildcats; sometimes they are Troy’s buddies. Other times, they are the reason he looks so indecisive, confused, pressured and isolated. Other times, they cut him down with staggering cruelty and no apology whatsoever. None of this volatility is represented in the Trelsi friendship. 

7- “They tell you the truth about things, even if you may not want to hear it.”

Now this one is slightly different. And again, this demonstrates why Troy and Kelsi should have had more scenes together. If so, we could have seen how the two of them dealt with significant crises that headed their way. The main crisis would be the increasingly negative effect of Gabriella’s presence on troy, and the resultant damage to Troy. It would be a huge test of Kelsi’s character as to whether she would have enough objectivity to point out these problems to him, or try and comfort him without facing these uncomfortable truths. Given her love for the image of Troyella as depicted through her song lyrics, the latter possibility is more likely, up to and until something major enough happens to change Kelsi’s mind. I will discuss this in more detail when looking at Trelsi romance and what the implications are. Suffice to say, Kelsi’s lack of objectivity towards Gabriella is a significant disadvantage to Troy, who needs to see that his relationship is destructive and unhealthy. 

And this works the other way around, too. Even though Gabriella quits each musical/show, I simply cannot see Troy admitting to Kelsi that this is her (Gabriella’s fault). And Kelsi deserves to see that. It is patently obvious that Gabriella’s repeated quitting always threatens putting her hard work to waste. But Troy never addresses this; instead, he is caught up trying to get Gabriella back, and taking the blame for his own reaction to her absence. This is why he apologizes to Kelsi for messing up during rehearsals in HSM III. Of course, he is not helped by the fact that Kelsi cannot see any fault in Gabriella, but he doesn’t help her either by pretending there is no link between the two events. I will look at this in more detail later (as I keep saying!), as neither of them are willing to move past the superficial image of Troyella. 

To be fair, Kelsi does not allow Troy to blame himself for Gabriella’s absence. And I do think, in other circumstances, they would provide the support each other needed, because they have a very strong inclination to support each other through thick and thin. One clear example of this is where the Wildcats are concerned. Kelsi’s decision to support Troy in HSM II sent a clear message of disapproval towards the Wildcats’ behaviour. On the other hand, Troy’s reaction was of hurt and confusion-- notably not anger towards their actions. So potentially, Kelsi seems capable of objectivity when it comes to their friends, as she has less of an emotional connection to them than to Troy. 

8- “They don’t blow things out of proportion when you make a mistake-- they forgive you.”

Trelsi win 11 times out of 10 on this one. The rehearsal example in HSM III works time and time again to illustrate this. Kelsi has no reason to remain patient with Troy, as his potential mistakes will reflect poorly upon her during the final show. And remember, judges from Juilliard will be in attendance, and she desperately wants that scholarship. (Don’t be fooled by Kelsi’s apparently modest and demure nature; underneath it all, she is ambitious). Instead, she tells him that “it will be fine”, which I always tend to consider weak encouragement, but which comforts Troy a great deal. Kelsi does not expect perfection from Troy, does not need him to be perfect, and never makes hypercritical comments towards him. This forms part of the unspoken understanding that they have; support when everyone else doesn’t understand. The only time that Kelsi did complain to Troy was, inexplicably, at the beginning of HSM II when it was apparently so outrageous that Fulton told them to work for cash. By the time she refuses to join in the infamous Silent Treatment however, it appears all is forgotten and forgiven. Had we seen more scenes between Troy and Kelsi, it is reasonable to assume that this would be shown time and time again between the two of them. Because of the wholehearted acceptance of each other, as was discussed in Point #1 they are not operating under some grand delusion of what a friendship will be like, but what it should actually be like. And Troy and Kelsi are on a journey together, where their success is dependent upon unconditional support. They expect pitfalls and setbacks. This reasoned approach to friendship makes it incredibly strong and means that they aren’t ever going to put each other down for being human. 

The Wildcats should take note. 

TO BE CONTINUED

(*FOOTNOTE-- Remember, out of all the cast members, Troy and Kelsi are the “Playmakers”. It’s their job to succeed and kick ass. Hence we have that lovely scene at the end of HSM I, where Troy awards Kelsi the game ball:[T] “Composer! Here’s your game ball. You deserve it, Playmaker.”Once again, whilst in the middle of celebrating his own victory, far more popular with the school, given how much people idolize the Wildcats, Troy takes the time out to congratulate Kelsi not just saying “well done/congratulations” but by reverting back to their esoteric language. Notably, he gives his own game ball away to someone considerably less well-known, and someone who knows nothing about sports (Kelsi twirling the ball in her hands afterwards is hilarious). This demonstrates that Kelsi’s success is more meaningful to Troy than his own; he’s heard the title “Playmaker” applied to himself so many times, and doesn’t need the Game Ball. Notably, he does not give it to Gabriella, with whom he is supposed to share this chemistry when performing. After all, she gave a good performance. He gives it to Kelsi, because once again, he senses that she needs it, and that she is the one who truly deserves it. This is because of how he quickly and deeply he connects to her music. But he wants to underscore his gratitude towards her for helping reveal this part of himself, and his pride in her achievements, so he uses the way that only she will understand by calling her “Playmaker.” Since the Playmaker is “the one who makes everyone else look good”, he’s basically saying that the success of his performance was down to HER. Not Gabriella. It’s a lovely, lovely compliment to give someone, made even more special by repeating the nickname affectionately and letting her get some applause from his team-mates. Once again, Troy goes out of his way to make kind/thoughtful gestures towards Kelsi and by her smile, we can see how much this means to her). 

#Trelsi #OTP #SeriouslyWon'tStopWritingAboutTheseTwo #TroyBolton #KelsiNielsen #Playmakers #HighSchoolMusical