#that has a lot to do with the upper end of the scale as opposed to the lower end that i am in

[wizardnuke]

they did nawt give me enough nausea medication perhaps by a longshot

#last dose is wearing off. feels Bad. i'm at work. aaaauuuh #emeto mention #also feeling really normal about how this is going to affect my already very low weight #i was trying so fucking hard dude. #last i checked i was at 89. gonna check tomorrow at bf's bc my scale is broken #FOR REFERENCE i am 5'0. but that is still bad. #once upon a got damn time i was 96 lbs. haven't broken 90 in a solid year #anorexia #ig #bmi has been proven to be unreliable enough to where i hope tomorrow's doctor is gonna hear me out but also #that has a lot to do with the upper end of the scale as opposed to the lower end that i am in #at BEST my bmi is 17.4 and i really doubt i haven't lost weight bc. i have eyes and it feels like it. #hello doctor i do not have a psychiatric condition i have a low appetite quick satiety and now i can't eat. Help lol #very very very frustrating. #would be really nice if this is part of a treatable gi issue honestly like at this point i hope it's something diagnosable #i am very tired and feeling very sick #at this point i think i can tell the doc i have been trying to gain weight. for months. and i literally can't #anyways im getting the same exact nausea med from an undisclosed source tomorrow to get me thru til i can get that refilled #hopefully will be able to get that at the docs tomorrow

[etherealspacejelly]

ok so. i am currently working on a fic. its a story that has been rotating in my brain for years about an avengers OC. idk if i want to start posting it as a WIP or wait until it's finished.

what im gonna do is post the prologue here, under the cut. it is entirely worldbuilding because. i came up with a new alien species with Lore™️ that i made as canon compliant as possible because im a fucking nerd. so you kinda need to know all of that before i can tell the actual story.

if you're interested, please give it a read and tell me what you think and whether you would want to read more! if it gets enough attention i'll start posting the chapters i have to ao3. i have a tag list for my fics so lmk if you want to be added to that too.

quick summary of the fic as a whole: The last surviving member of the Light Elf race, Einar, is taken in by the Avengers when they are orphaned at 10 years old. They nurse Einar back to health, and slowly form a bond with them, helping them to process their grief and heal from their trauma. There's a lot of fluff, a lot of angst, a lot of hurt/comfort, and of course found family.

It starts during the events of Thor: The Dark World and follows the storyline of the MCU from there.

Prologue:

In the beginning, there was only darkness. The only world to exist in that darkness was a tiny, desolate rock named Alfheim. This was the home of my ancestors, the Elves, before time, before space, before light.

No one knows how long they lived like that, alone in the dark. All we know is that at some point that darkness ended. The universe began, and light and life exploded into existence. For most of the Elves, this was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. They swore to protect and nurture all life and to serve the light. But others believed that this was a perversion of the natural order, that the universe belonged in darkness and should be returned to that state. They vowed to destroy the light by any means possible.

War broke out between the two opposing sides, an Elvish Civil War that lasted for many billions of years, with both sides only ever coming together to kill each other. And so, they evolved separately into two species: the Dark Elves and the Light Elves. Each side became stronger and stronger with each generation, evolving new abilities and traits to give them an edge in battle.

A few millennia ago, a great battle ensued between these two sides on Svardalfheim. The Dark Elves tried to use their most powerful weapon, the Aether, to destroy the universe. The Light Elves fought with all their might, but the Dark Elves had the upper hand. That is until the Asgardians arrived.

Odin's father, King Bor, and his army tipped the scales and won the battle for the Light Elves. They confiscated the Aether and sealed it away where no one would find it. Malekith, the leader of the Dark Elves, fled in his ship and bombed the planet behind him hoping to destroy what remained of the Light Elf army, not caring if his own perished as well.

Only two Light Elves survived.

They fled to find a place to hide, to recover their strength for what they knew would be the final battle of the War. They needed a primitive, unknown, safe planet to seek refuge. They found one.

Earth. Dominated by a bipedal, fairly intelligent species descended from tree dwellers. No one would think to look for them there. It was on this planet in the middle of nowhere that these two Elves decided to take a risk, one last desperate attempt to give them an edge against the Dark Elves. They had a baby.

That child, the last Light Elf baby to ever be born, came to be in England, Earth, in the spring of 2003. They named the child Einar, an old Norse name meaning 'the lonely warrior', for that is the future they believed their child was destined for. Little did they know how wrong they would turn out to be.

#fanfic #fanfiction #space jelly writes #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Does arthur ever have problems due to his shoulders? Cause like, if Uther has burned his shoulders as punishment for a lot of times to the pint where they're now scared, then he'd probably have shoulder pains or aches. Then again, I'm not a doctor so idk

Great questions... there are a lot of layers to the answers

He's extremely sensitive to people touching his shoulders... it's the reason why he feels uncomfortable with his armor off. There are only four people he feels safe with his armor off; Celestine, Kit Cosomo, Nonsurat (eventually...), and Meta Knight.

Before he fell into madness... he was the equivalent of Tywin Lannister. He knew how to look like he cared & to talk his way out of the situation. He was coldhearted & cruel... but the man was no fool. He knew how to play the game... only appealed to the upper crusts of the galaxy, which allowed him to gain many powerful allies at the top.

Sir Uther was in a high position... this was the leader of GSA, and not many could oppose his word. He was the... strongest warrior in the galaxy (for his time); the Ancients & Absalom (the high priest of the Ancient- an OC I will present later) had appointed him. No one questioned him...

And yes, Arthur got the short end of the stick...

(I changed some things (originally he started as the strongest): but Arthur as a young cadet started out as the weakest... there was no clear winner, but it was clear that Arthur was the weakest.)

Sir Uther already had high expectations for Arthur because he possessed a very rare elemental magic (light magic)... And he was the weakest out of the three (what a waste of rare magic he thought).

He ended up being an example for the other two (Morgan & Nonsurat) "This is what happens when you fail me". The way Arthur's been burned, it's the equivalent of a brand mark... Uther had intentionally done this for control purposes... to put fear into the other two.

Morgan & Nonsurat weren't cruel to Arthur (perse) ... but they ignored him for being the weakest. Constantly leaving him out of their conversations & practice sessions together. (This behavior was taught to them by Uther...)

However, this motivated Arthur to train even harder... pushing himself to the limit (to a very unhealthy amount). In the sense of "Who needs them... I can train without... BETTER EVEN!" Mentally blocking out and ignoring the pain. All the venom came from Arthur... the other two just feed off of that.

When the day Arthur managed to tip the scale and become the strongest of the three... this changed everything. He (Arthur) exceeded Uther's expectations... And finally, Arthur managed to be praised by his mentor... even if it lasted a moment.

This was a high Arthur would be constantly chasing.... Uther saw this and used it to his advantage... he finally managed to produce his perfect soldier (Arthur)... who was willing to do anything for his affection & praise (Uther's scumbag).

But despite Nonsurat (now being the weakest of three), they still had each other... he was the one alone at the top now. He couldn't help but envy them... Like I said Arthur was already venomous towards them (for always leaving him out)...

Sir Uther saw the animosity between the three and took advantage of it... starting a whole new dynamic...

He no longer had to use his "old method intimidation" (he didn't have to lift a finger), he merely had to turn the three of them against each other... (I've touched up on this in Morgan's intro post).

Basically, Uther made the three strongest warriors in the GSA by constantly making them compete with each other (knives constantly sharpening one another). And it worked dangerously better...

There would always be a side comment (from Uther). "You see, this is why... you two, never be as good as Arthur..." turning all their hatred towards Arthur. And he'd watch in content as the mere words would cause them to spring back into action, trying to outdo Arthur ... He'd especially say these things to Morgan, seeing how effective it was as a motivator. Reminding her how close she was to... causing Morgan to foster her hatred of Arthur...

While Arthur's suffered more physical abuse... Nonsurat and Morgan were more emotional & mental... which was just as damaging... they were all scarred by just in different ways Uther...

Speaking of Arthur... he fed his paranoia that Morgan & Nonsurat were constantly out to get him and his spot. Reminding him, " You don't want to experience being at the bottom again..." And would merely touch the pauldron... and would trigger him to go back and work twice as hard.

Ignore all his aches... and pains... Which is why Arthur has such a high pain tolerance... He was never going back down... he didn't want to be discarded... he didn't want to feel worthless again. The burns on his arm are a reminder of those times...

Which is why it was especially painful for Arthur when he found Uther... Regarding this post (What Kind of Kings in My Blood)

I plan to explore more of this later please say tuned~

#kirby #kbasw #sir arthur kirby #sir arthur #sir nonsurat #dame morgan #sir uther #kirby oc #answered

[agoddamn]

I'd very much like to get you started on socioeconomic underpinnings kishimito won't. If that's cool with you

ALRIGHT. SO. I'm doing this on mobile so it's gonna be super messy, bear with me.

First of all, what shaped the real-life warring states era? A lot of things, but I'm going to focus on two: technology and social mobility.

Japan was introduced to the arquebus in 1543. Guns completely and totally changed the face of war; no longer did you need a warrior with years of training and conditioning to win a battle. Guns were a massive equalizer. 

(This has happened to a lesser degree with other weapons throughout history–polearm and longbow, frex. Having effective, accessible weapons hugely upsets the previous balance of power. The gun, though, easily had the most revolutionary effect.)

So the previous armies became less useful, and technology--or, more specifically, the ability to kill people from either a greater distance or with greater ease/less training--became the thing that won you wars.

(A bit of an oversimplification; obviously resources and strategy and such mattered very much as well. But for Christ's sake I'm writing this for Naruto so we're gonna be a little less involved than a textbook.)

A ninja can kill at least as effectively as a gun (probably way more).

That brings us to the second issue, social class. There are two ways to control a population: direct and indirect. Take the idea of staying in a line. You can be kept in the line directly by having a guy with a stick hit you if you step out. You can also be kept in the line indirectly by being made to believe that you shouldn't step out of line, and this can be through positive or negative concepts; you believe that stepping out of line is dishonorable, or that it will cause you to lose a competition, or that the ground will crumble under your feet. 

Direct control becomes harder and harder the larger a population gets, for obvious reasons. The physical strength/technological capabilities of the population also becomes an issue; guards with sticks won't have any power if the people they're trying to keep in line are wearing armor.

So, indirect control works better for a large population. In real-life historical Japan, forms of indirect control were religion, class, and family loyalty.

Narutoland is missing most of those. 

Although people from large clans have an obvious advantage, we don't actually see any enmity towards shinobi from no-name families like Sakura or Lee. Nobody is scandalized by Sakura Nobody beating heiress of highly-placed and venerable clan Ino Yamanaka. There's no resistance to social mobility. 

(In real life, public schools were often opposed by the upper class because they represented social mobility and threatened the power of that form of indirect social control.)

And there's no religion in Narutoland, not on any large scale like the real-life worship of the Emperor.

"But what about the whole Will of Fire bullshit? That has to be indirect control!" Oh, it is! But there's two problems there. First is that Will of Fire encourages loyalty to the Hokage and not the daimyo. Second is that Will of Fire didn't exist in the Warring States era at all. 

So what are they fighting for in the Warring States era, Senju and Uchiha? Land? Money? What do these assholes want? 

They're not doing it for religion. They're not doing it to enforce a social punishment. They're not doing it because the daimyo told them. You can make a general assumption that it's food or money though, right? That's what all wars are fought over in the end. Well…

It's telling that most fix-it fic works by just having an actual, specific conflict (ie food shortage or being over-taxed) because once you have a definable problem you can work to address it. Kishimoto cheats by never identifying a problem so he can have the characters moan about how unsolvable it all is, when it's only unsolvable because Kishi chose to avoid having something tangible to address. 

tl;dr Warring States lacks both the social reasons for war (religion, loyalty to a daimyo) and the economic reasons. Furthermore, the military power structure is completely contradictory to a feudalist setup because ninja are far too powerful to be waging war the way they do.

The whole situation essentially uses the war as a proxy for a battle of ideals/principles; the actual war bits with people dying are just set dressing. The Warring States era only functions in this metaphorical way. In that sense, the whole situation doesn't need to make logical sense; it's just an allegory, a backdrop for belief A versus belief B.

So basically–

Ninja are so strong that they NEED some serious form of indirect social control to keep them loyal to the daimyo and that's just not there. Furthermore, they're so strong that they should have rocketed past this form of social strata ages ago. 

And, you know, while we're here, putting kids on the battlefield makes no fucking sense! It's very sad and all, but it's gibberish! A child represents an investment that takes years to return dividends. Getting your kid killed before they can reproduce is a massive waste of resources. 

"But Boots, there are child soldiers in real life!" Yeah, and modern child soldiers are almost universally cult shit--and, once more, guns are the great equalizer here. Historically, when they put kids on the battlefield it was in specific positions to keep them OFF the front line; pages, runners, powder monkeys. Children are physically not useful enough to put on the battlefield on purpose. The only kids who would be willingly sacrificed like that are slave children, but the frontline kids in Warring States are supposed to be nobility? Bullshit. That's a stupid fake conflict and it annoys the hell out of me.

#bootsmeta #naruto #puts face in hands #i didn't even get to the technological implications of farming and travel

[captorations]

hiiii so you sound like you know what you’re talking about when it comes to classpects, do you have any advice on finding out what your classpect is? bc the official test has never been very accurate for me and I wanna knoooooooooooooow

hoo boy. okay. first, i jokingly reject the insinuation that i have ever known what i was talking about when it comes to anything, ever. second, i sincerely reject the idea that my interpretations of classpects are the inherently correct ones. i'm pretty damn good at extrapolation from a few pieces when it comes to systems like this- which is a key part of how i identified what i consider to be my own classpect- but there are definitely people who have thought harder and longer about this than me.

that said, you're asking me, not them, so fuck it, i'll do my best. probably the best way to start is to describe how i typically arrive at a fictional character's classpect.

the most important thing when determining a classpect is that they are about arcs and methods of dealing with obstacles, not powers or skillsets, and definitely not personalities. however, considering any decent narrative will have the arc and the power/skillset run parallel (or perpendicular, which is just as notable), it's not like you can't look at the power. it should just serve as a starting point, not justification for the classpect in itself. same deal for the personality, but to a far lesser extent; there's a lot of room for variation there, and it shouldn't be relied upon.

so. each aspect has a set of associations. if you've read the golden compass, think of them like the symbols on the alethiometer. thankfully, as there are only twelve, the meanings are less specific and numerous than that. they have to be, in order to be used to describe effectively any sort of character arc. however, as they come in pairs, they can also be cut in half and addressed as six concepts, with opposing views on the same idea making up a sort of scale. i'll summarize them as briefly as i can, which isn't very.

space/time is creation and destruction, raw possibility and death by inevitable entropy. it may seem like time has the upper hand here, but remember that the vast majority of a story is made up of parts other than the ending.

heart/mind describes two opposing (more or less, anyway) views of the self. heart is the idea that there is a single you, a single soul with identifiable traits regardless of circumstances. mind is the idea that each of our choices irrevocably shape who we are, to the point where the question of the self is more a question of timing and circumstance.

light/void is about knowledge and lack thereof. light also contains luck, and in particular the idea that luck and knowledge aren't at all different. (vriska never understood that bit; aranea and rose, on the other hand, very much did.) void is that which is hidden, forgotten, indescribable, or paradoxical. it is the set of all sets and simultaneously nothing at all. confused? then you're getting it.

hope/rage is about emotion, the former viewing them as something by which the world is shaped, the latter viewing them as something by which the world shapes others. hope is singular, unrelenting, and without restraint. rage is multitudinous, erratic, and chaotic. note that i didn't say that one is positive and the other is negative, as much as they seem to be that way.

blood/breath is about connections, differing in how they are viewed. blood argues that being part of a society, living alongside others, and conforming to expectations can be a source of strength or a source of suffering, and that change must come to all if it comes to one. breath, on the other hand, says that an individual can bring about change independently, rejecting every notion of what others expect or even the very idea that anything at all must follow a pattern or be predictable.

life/doom is about rules and restrictions. doom would see everything as part of the same interlocking system, with defiance of the system being yet another part of the system. (i am doom through and fucking through. the fact that i see the aspects falling into this nicely organized arrangement, not to mention that i've pieced this all together from an incomplete set of data, should make this blindingly obvious.) life would encourage the breaking of rules, growth without limit, and the determination of one's own destiny regardless of that which would get in the way.

so. in the shortest possible terms: creation, self, knowledge, emotion, connection, restriction. which one dominates a character's arc? that should be your starting point.

as for classes, i'm going to be honest and say that my knowledge here is lacking. aspects are far more important, anyway. i'd point you to the homestuck wiki page on the subject. i may not agree with everything it says, but it's close enough. the main question you should be asking here, having identified a character's aspect, is: how do they interact with it? what do they do, both in general and in the critical point(s) of their arc?

if a character sacrifices themselves in some way, you're likely looking at a knight or a muse. note: they should be, in some way or another, sacrificing themselves in the context of their aspect. cassandra from the tangled series is a knight of rage, and in an attempt to become the villain and sacrifice herself for those she loved, she intentionally allowed her negative emotions to override her positive ones. she had to be the villain, not just pretend. (she wasn't very good at it, but she sure tried, and that's what counts.) xion from kingdom hearts is a muse of void, as she willingly gave up her entire self, returned to nothing, knowing she would even be obliterated from the memories of others, in order to forward the cause of everyone else.

someone who causes destruction is likely or prince or a bard. i have two examples from miraculous ladybug for you. adrien agreste is a prince of doom, not because he has literal destruction powers, but because he lives a life of suffocating restraint, and his entire arc is about breaking down those limitations. this is also a notable case of the class sort of inverting the aspect, as while his arc screams life at first glance, the way he goes about it makes him a prince, and therefore he must be a prince of doom. (side note: if someone ever tries to talk about something called "inversion theory" to you, throw something heavy at them.) anyway, lila rossi is a bard of blood. she is a master of the social game, but only pokes and prods the exact right places in order to cause people to turn on each other. it may or may not be worth noting that she's managed to do the same to the fandom itself, not just the characters, which is pretty impressive.

that's honestly enough on classes, or it will have to be lest this post reach such absurd proportions that even i would hesitate to read it. let's move on to the last step: applying all of this to real people.

again, recall that this is not a personality test. i am a mage of doom, one who seeks out the rules and uses them to my advantage, but despite very much appreciating the lad, i am not that much like sollux. i'm not entirely dissimilar, but i'm far closer in personality to both lalondes.

the tricky part of identifying a classpect for yourself, or any other still-living person, is that whatever arc they have is, very obviously, incomplete. some arcs do not even end with one's death; what one's life ends up meaning to others may be a critical part of the equation. (though as mentioned previously, most of a story is made of up parts other than the ending, so you should be able to get a pretty good idea from whatever pieces you do have. or at least, i can do that, because as stated, i am very much doom-aligned.) furthermore, this being real life and not a narrative, arcs may be difficult to distinguish. as such, it's important to ask what you yourself think your arc is, or by what means you navigate the world. no one is going to know better than you, and your perception of yourself, once defined in this way, will likely go on to shape your actions in that direction.

as is abundantly clear by now, i am obsessed with how things work. i can take an incomplete system and extrapolate until it's complete, accounting for all or virtually all of the data points. my best skillset is that of an editor, because when it comes to writing i know all the rules. all of them, even. unlike one more life-aligned, however, i view the deliberate breaking of the rules to be just another application of the rules themselves. if the rules could be truly broken, they would not be the rules. so that's how i work, how i approach any obstacle. i figure out what the rules are, then i choose a course of action to accomplish my goal based on that. just because i may intentionally throw a wrench in a given system in order to serve a given purpose doesn't mean i'm defying the system, it means that i am using the fact that the system is vulnerable to thrown wrenches, a known feature of the system, to my advantage.

so. hopefully this should give you some idea of how to start. if you struggle with personal identity, unsure of what defines you, you might be on the heart/mind scale. if most of the challenges in your life involve other people, you might be on the blood/breath scale, and so on and so forth.

good luck, and don't forget that in the end this is all for fun.

#well i sure did just write a goddamn essay #look these things are fun to talk about #me @ myself: okay doom player (derogatory) #homestuck #classpects

[sevenciircles]

in which i make some wrath ring headcanons !

Wrath Ring imps are typically either way smaller or way taller than most imps. This is due to their evolution, as the strong or those able to hide and have the ability to fight have survived.

The Wrath Ring has two types of weather. Blazing heat or freezing cold. It switches every six months, with a few weeks of normal temperatures in between. However, this is also where their flaming twisters and other adverse weather comes into play. So it's a mixed blessing.

Wrath imps don't typically send their children to school beyond the age of 16. Even then, it's less 'school' and more whoever has the highest education level in the surrounding farms teach all the imp kids who want to go in one room. Yeah, school is optional. Most parents opt to homeschool their kids and teach them trades.

There are tons of wild beasts and monsters roaming around Wrath. These are different than the hell beasts they kill for eating, they are the predators who attack their livestock or ruin their crops. Or attack their vehicles when they are trading.

Wrath is the most dangerous Ring BY ITSELF. As opposed to other rings that have become dangerous due to their inhabitants, Wrath holds the honor of being dangerous just because it is.

There are more festivals and gatherings than The Harvest Moon Festival. That's just the biggest one. However, there are a lot of more smaller and local events such as fairs, flea markets, community square dances, fighting rings, etc.

Family & community is a HUGE thing in Wrath. Sure everyone kills or hurts each other during their games and festivals, but they are all still working hard together to meet the upper levels demands of food supply and surviving harsh conditions.

Dancing is a big thing. Singing comes in at a close second, but most imps don't sing on their own. Preferring to play their acompiament.

Wrath is actually one of the more lgbtqia+ friendly rings, due to them really only caring about a person's strengths and how well they can fight and how tough they are.

The Harvest Moon Festival is the biggest festival and is ring wide. People often travel and camp or stay at bed and breakfasts. However, as mentioned earlier, the different groupings and neighboring farms make up their own communities. Those communities all have their own events and jamborees.

Wrath is also a poorer ring, due to their income only coming trade with others/other hustles. They get small stipends from their Lord and from other rulers of Hell. However, it is not nearly enough. Feeding the rings of Hell are seen as their obligation, their duty. Not something to be rewarded. It's expected. However, in the last 50 years or so they've successfully petitioned for some form of compensation.

They have 'fighting pageants'. Sorta like beauty pageants. Whereas the pain games are all about just beating your opponent, the fighting pageants are all about how you take them down. You are scored by the amount of times you do damage, avoid getting hit, and the way you fight.

More about the fighting pageants. There are different categories, such as wrestling and knife fighting.

One last thing about the fighting pageants. There is a shooting portion. It's not really popular, but over time it's getting more accepted.

Overall in the Wrath ring, the attitude towards guns is very divisive. Basically, the more traditional imps believe in only fighting with their fists. Moving towards the progressive ones, which makes up the majority of the ring, are fine with weapons such as knives, axes, scythes, etc. It's where the guns come in that it becomes an issue. A larger portion of Wrath ring imps are growing more tolerant of guns, but it's a reluctant acknowledgement.

(Millie's family is actually towards the end of the moderate scale, leaning more in favor of guns. They believe that guns are okay, but a person is tougher if they only use their bare hands.)

Families in Wrath are typically big, due to them needing more hands to work.

The oldest are typically expected to inherit their family farms. However, in the case of Millie's family, her parents and Millie and Sallie May came to an agreement that Sallie May will inherit the farm. It's not a big deal, usually.

Sorry another specific Millie's family headcanon, but they are slightly more well off than a typical Wrath family. This is due to their large farm which has been handed down for generations, their ability to pay their farmhands, and the fact that they have both livestock and crops. However, compared to other Rings, they are considered poor.

Back to other Wrath Ring headcanons.

Imps from the Wrath Ring typically don't travel to other rings a lot, due to the fact that they have tons of work to do.

Speaking of their workload, the Wrath ring imps work extremely hard year round. A vacation is a missed week or so of funds, a day off is an opportunity for a beast to kill your livestock.

It's pretty hard to move on from the Wrath Ring. Wrath is largely country, so like, the heavily urbanized cities in the other rings are a bit of a culture shock.

#ooc. #woo wee that's a lot

[thetldrplace]

Main Street- Sinclair Lewis (1920)

"The shell ought not to be forced on the spirit. It can't. The bright shell has to grow out of the spirit, and express it."

Carol Milford is a young, educated, idealistic, and progressive young woman from St. Paul. She is working at a Library, but is unfulfilled at her job. She wants to help change things. She meets a young Dr. from a smaller town- Gopher Prairie, MN. She gets married and settles in the small town, which she hopes to infuse with her progressive ideas. But the townspeople aren't so enamored of her ways and she runs into a lot of obstacles along the way. She finds some are sympathetic, others unsure, others reluctant, and some outright opposed to her notions. Her husband is sympathetic, but too satisfied with his life to really understand her desire to change it.

The book is about life in a small town, but I think it gives us glimpses into the power dynamics at play between conservative and liberal forces.

The quote at the top is by one of the local ladies, Vida, more sympathetic to Carol's ideas, but wise enough to know the conservatives can't be pushed around. Vida tells Carol she's way off in her approach. Carol counters with "Can't they see the ugliness?" Vida responds that they don't see it as ugly. And why should they like what a Boston architect likes? The quote at the top reveals something important. Carol may not like the town as it is, but this is an outgrowth of the people that put it together. Changing the town means changing the people. She may think they're just unaware of the possibilities, but apparently- they are aware, but they prefer things this way.  

This, in itself, is a bit of a revelation. People have a say in what their life looks like. If we don't like the way things are, it's wise to question how things got that way, because they're likely an outgrowth of choices made...reflecting something deeper. The shell grows out of the spirit, and expresses it.  

There are passages where Carol reflects on the scale of her reform. In one, she notices how dingy her husband's office is. She decides that it would be important to take care of this small thing right in front of her, rather than try and reform the entire town. At first, her husband says it's ok as is, but then after she is done, he admits it is better- more welcoming and comfortable- for his patients too.

Carol has a conversation with an older Baptist woman who seems so prejudiced against everyone. Carol is glad to finally get out of there, but then notes that the woman apparently was bent on her own type of reform. Were they essentially the same?

Despite Carol's desire for reform and beautification, is she really helping the people of her town? She wants to impose her ideas of what is good and beautiful, not actually make the town better in appreciable ways. Vida has an inner dialog expressing her own desire to change, but in small ways she has direct control over, not in Carol's seeming need to change for the sake of remaking things in her own image for her own benefit, even if she believes it would be to everyone's benefit if things went in her way.

There is a distinction pointed out by Doc Kennicott that the people Carol despises are people that get things done. Carol sees high art and intellectual pursuit as the pinnacle of life. Another character says that people can appreciate lovely things, but they have to be practical too. Why is high art to be elevated above the daily concerns? What is the point of intellectual pursuit? To Carol, they are simply 'better' for reasons she doesn't seem to understand. She believes them to be better, but to what end? And unless she can articulate that, she won't be able to convince others of their particular value.

Is there a point to being well-read, other than sounding smart at cocktail parties? Or is it 'better' to be practically good at something? Even the stories we read and appreciate are about people doing something, they aren't about people learning new ideas and discussing them in upper-class settings.  

But the conservative side is complacent, too often resistant for no good reason. The individuals each can tell Carol why she doesn't need to change the town because it's already good as it is, will each, in turn, explain why they feel their particular section ought to upgraded before any others. So they all apparently see a need for improvement, until someone outside comes in and tells them the obvious. Then, in the most ubiquitous human characteristic- pride, they righteously explain that their town doesn’t need some outsider coming in and telling THEM how to do things.

After attending a Scandinavian fair and seeing the young women in their traditional dresses and trading what seemed to her like exotic foreign foods, Carol laments that these women will become Americanized into blandness. But of course those same women, in their home countries, would have all been bland in their original settings. It is only out of context that they seem exotic.  

Sinclair writes, through Carol's eyes, that small towns everywhere labor towards ignorance and mediocrity. He notes the American salesman's penchant for wanting to see the entire world talking about his wares as opposed to love and courage.  

As the book develops, Carol becomes interested in a young man who has all the qualities she feels like she wants. Her husband understands this and talks to her one evening, explaining that while he may not have the superficial qualities that she wants, in reality, his work as a doctor is trying to heal. HE is the one, home-spun as he might seem, that IS bringing the science into their corner of the world.  

The other man may have sensitivity and talent, but that doesn't mean that he will actually make good in the world. The likelihood is that he won't, and then what will your life with him be? Everyone has dreams, some are loftier, some are simpler. The magnitude of the dream isn't ultimately what will make the magnitude of difference.  

#Sinclair Lewis #Main Street Novel

[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

[writcraft]

Hello! How would compare and contrast Snarry vs Drarry? Since you have (beautifully!) written both, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the dynamics of these two ships. Thank you!

Hello Anon, thank you for this lovely message and what a topic!

I have set out below the cut why I think the dynamics differ but also some of the similarities and it got very, very long. Yikes.

DRACO

Draco is privileged, from a wealthy, pureblood, old wizarding family and immersed in magic from childhood. He's the kind of popular where he has his crew and doesn't really care if the Gryffindors don't like him, he is athletic and bright and he is described in a way that suggests he is attractive. Up until the point things really start to go wrong for Draco, he leads a relatively charmed life. He is a product of his upbringing, of his upper class status, he experiences a childhood where he is spoiled, loved and doted on, albeit he appears to be subject to high expectations of academic excellence and sporting prowess. With his friends he appears to be something of the ringleader and generally liked. He gravitates towards Voldemort because it's really all he's known, he's born into it. At first it seems Draco's views are driven by his desire to protect the things he values (wealth, status, power) and the privilege he has become accustomed to and, in the end, he sticks around primarily out of fear and self preservation. Draco exhibits moments of cowardice.

SEVERUS

Severus has an entirely different upbringing. He is working class, has a tense relationship with his parents, he is disliked and bullied at school which leaves him isolated, he gravitates towards solitary intellectual pursuits and he is described in a way that suggests he is supposed to be unattractive (although this reader would argue he has a certain magnetic charge). Lily aside, his relationships as a child seem to be shaped by a fascination with the power that comes with wealth and elitism, something he has never experienced. Sirius describes him as Lucius Malfoy's 'lap dog' and it is telling that Lucius is much older, a Prefect when Severus starts Hogwarts. He is radicalised in a way and gravitates towards Voldemort through a greedy hunger for power, a desire for revenge and a desperate desire to change his lot in life. He stays because, well, we all know why he stays. Severus is brave but grudgingly, acerbically so. The deepest insult he confronts is being called a coward by Harry.

FIRST ENCOUNTERS

Aside from the differences in their characters, the way Harry encounters Severus and Draco is completely different. When we meet Severus in canon, he is bitter, angry, jealous, grieving and indebted to Dumbledore. He is also in a position of power as Harry's professor. When we meet Draco, he is Harry's peer but he is also full of himself, an arrogant little shit who thinks the world is his for the taking and he thinks very little of Dumbledore, because father says...

This shapes Harry's encounters with them both. Severus approaches Harry with animosity, venom and a legacy of hurt that Harry doesn't yet understand. Severus places no weight on Harry's celebrity, he actively resents and despises it. Draco, by contrast, values Harry's celebrity initially. He wants to be friends with the wizarding world's brightest star and the animosity that follows between them flows directly from the sting of Harry's initial rejection.

ONGOING RELATIONSHIP

Severus wilfully misunderstands Harry. He draws connections between Harry and James based solely on their striking physical similarities and (incorrectly) ascribes the characteristics of James to Harry. He is tasked with protecting Harry but he does so always through gritted teeth. The curse of Severus Snape is to spend his life protecting someone who represents everything he despised as a child and yet the only person who can give a dying man that last connection to his one true friend.

Draco sees Harry more clearly but his perspective is shaped by jealousy and the sting of that first encounter, which leads him to make fun of Harry's circumstances and the people he associates himself with. He doesn't misunderstand Harry in the way Severus does, but he also doesn't know him fully.

MAGICAL CONNECTIONS

The magic that connects Harry, Draco and Severus is fascinating. Harry famously uses Sectumsempra on Draco without knowing what impact it will have. He then intentionally uses the same spell on Severus (unsuccessfully) knowing exactly the damage it will do. Not only does the use of the spell in both instances show us a darker side to Harry, but the spell was also created by Severus and he is the one that helps Draco after the spell has been cast. I could write an essay on the links this spell creates between those three characters.

Expelliarmus is another one. Severus teaches Harry this spell and in doing so, equips him with his most powerful tool in the fight against Voldemort. Harry disarms Draco of his wand and the implications of that in terms of the final battle are intrinsically connected to the 'signature move' of Harry's in battle, which is all about gaining possession of the wand of the attacker as opposed to trying to target the attacker themselves.

Avada Kedavra is also something that binds the three of them. Harry witnesses Draco failing to cast the Killing Curse, and simultaneously witnesses Severus easily casting it. This also is part of the broader relationship Harry, Draco and Severus have to Dumbledore. Harry and Severus are willing pawns in the master plan but neither are fully equipped with all the information they need. Draco ends up unwittingly being part of the plan but he is never a soldier of Dumbledore's Army in the way Harry explicitly is and Severus, with a gnashing of his teeth, also is.

Finally, one of the important similarities between Severus and Draco is they are both skilled Occlumens, something Harry is notoriously rubbish at. This skill suggests both are better able to bury and compartmentalise their emotions whereas Harry is unable to do so with any success and this plays into the fact that in both ships, Harry is likely to be the more demonstrative, wearing his heart on his sleeve in a way both Draco and Severus can better disguise/suppress.

DIFFERENT DYNAMICS

With all of the above the dynamics between Drarry and Snarry will always have a different slant, even if Harry himself is essentially the same. By way of sweeping overstatement, Snarry tends to skew darker and heavier because there is much more to overcome, but by contrast Severus has also spent his 'canon' years protecting Harry which creates this bitter 'Guardian Angel' type dynamic that, if you ship it, can be intensely romantic when they encounter one another again as adults.

The age difference lends itself to different dynamics too. Harry and Draco have that potential for young, dumb and in love, working things out, exploring, eighth year and spin the bottle sort of stuff that Snarry doesn't really have in the same way. It feels more natural that Harry and Draco would encounter one another as peers from the same year group, so part of the battle with Snarry is working out how Harry and Severus end up in the same spaces together in adulthood (Snape's canon death being a pesky inconvenience). The age difference raises another important difference in dynamic too, when it comes to the experience of Severus and Draco as gay or bisexual men, if you apply Muggle attitudes to same-sex relationships that have shifted over time.

The age difference is also relevant because there is a capacity for Draco to change his ways as he grows up, but Severus has already long changed his political beliefs and we know Severus as an adult in canon. That's not to say adults can't change their beliefs of course, but because his adult character exhibits moments of real cruelty you have a challenge around how this irascible, often mean, sharp-tongued character can give Harry what he yearns for when it comes to affection, love, family, security and so on.

There are hurdles to overcome with both ships and although the core 'enemies to lovers' starting point may create a similar overarching dynamic, the roots of those hurdles, the scale of them and the ways and ease with which they get resolved will differ because ultimately Draco and Severus are very different characters with quite polarised life experiences. They have some similarities, Occlumency aside, such as fostering beliefs during childhood they reject around the same time in their lives, albeit for very different reasons. Both are Slytherins who, their magical skills would suggest, are capable of pushing their emotions down in a way Harry can't, when everything for him is raw, on the surface, now, even though they both also unleash their emotions at various points. They are both prone to dramatics, to anger, to pettiness, to humour and in many respects, Harry is prone to those things too. In general though, I believe Draco and Severus would approach a relationship with Harry quite differently.

I don't think there's any one easy way to pinpoint the different dynamics in general because there is a huge variety of ways these three can be presented in fanfic, with its own plot, worldbuilding, external factors and so on. There are so many different directions you could go in with Snarry and Drarry so I'm only speaking from some of the things that strike me not only about the Severus/Harry and Draco/Harry connections/potential hurdles but also about the links between the three of them. Ultimately I think there is opportunity for deep connection, discovery, levity, passion and of course, delicious angst and UST with both ships, but they tend to manifest a little differently for all the reasons outlines about.

There's so much more I can say, but I'll leave it there. Thank you, Anon!

#snarry #drarry #meta #asks

[dangermousie]

Continuing with my reread

And got to the point where they visit the Rufeng Sect.

But before I get to the chapters-specific stuff, I wanted to talk about something that discussion between @moransumbrella and @momoliee (about SQT and RJ) made me think about.

And it’s that in 2ha, one of the big narrative points is that it is understandable to want to survive/get revenge/protect yourself or others but no goal however understandable or noble in the abstract can justify systematically hurting innocents and when you cross that line and keep crossing it, you become a monster. Maybe a tragic one or understandable one, but there is none of that “oh you poor thing, go on” attitude.

Is there any doubt that Shimei is fully justified in wanting to save his people from the horrors they are subjected to in the cultivation world? No, not at all. But leaving aside the irony of his plan wrecking both the one person we’ve seen who never ever went along with that behavior (CWN) and the person who IS part of those people and a special one at that (Moran), those two also being some of the few people who treated him so well, nobody in their right mind would think he’s justified to literally destroy a Universe he is in and then start working on the Universe of the main story. He is a monster pure and simple and nothing can justify what he does. Or, on a smaller scale take someone like Rong Jiu (mainly 0.5), Song QT, Nangong Xu or even that family in Butterfly Town. They all have reasons for doing the horrible things they do - desperation to get out of awful life (RJ, SQT), rightly wanting vengeance for having his place stolen (NX), or even understandable desire to get ahead as a family (Butterfly Town folks.) Shimei’s sister - same - she does the monstrous things she does because she loves her brother. Meatbun gets that very few people genuinely see themselves as villains - even as mad, as gone, as compelled, as broken TXJ was, he still clung to his “I was justified to torture CWN 0.5 because he killed Shimei″ like a life raft. Even a person who was not in any way in possession of free will in his actions or even his thoughts, still felt he needed to operate on a “just world” theory.

BUT the thing is, it makes their actions justified in their own heads but Meatbun never makes the mistake of letting us forget that even monsters with valid reasons are monsters. There is no justification in the world that can make what Shimei did OK, there is no justification in the world that can make anything any of the bad actors do to innocents OK. It relates to huge things (Hua Binan literally destroying the Universe) and little ones (Rong Jiu in the Underworld betraying Moran and CWN.) Sympathy and justice are two separate concepts.

But the other thing I love is nothing is static either. Meatbun doesn’t shie from calling a monster a monster but redemption is possible no matter what. We see this with Moran (until the twist, of course, that no redemption is necessary (sort of - about this more word vomit below) because he’s an even bigger victim than CWN), we see it with Shimei 2.0 - I will never warm up to Shimei for emotional reasons but there is zero question that he is working hard on his redemption at the end and is earning it. But the thing is - you have to possess moral consciousness to want to redeem yourself. That is what makes you salvageable. Moran possesses it, Shimei 2.0 possesses it (and I love the concept that no matter how high your sins, you CAN be redeemed. But that redemption doesn’t necessarily involve personal happiness or your victims forgiving you, it is basically hard work only for internal reward of the possibility of peace.) A lot of other monsters, large and small, do not. 

OK, the thing about whether Moran needs redemption that I just mentioned. The quick and easy answer is “of course not.” He was probably the biggest victim of them all and none of the monstrous things he did were his fault or within his control. But I love that the answer is actually more complicated because it rings emotionally true. Moran finding out the truth near the end is wonderful and will allow him not to perpetually drown in guilt, but just as TXJ sliver doesn’t really fade into the rest of his souls, I don’t think the guilt will go away fully, not for a while. Because, aside from the concept of utter lack of volition combined with utter lack of knowledge that you actually lacked volition and deludedly thought this was all your ideas, being a whole other different trauma, the fact remains that Moran remembers feeling rage/hatred/bitter satisfaction in murder and rape and torture and burning the world. He remembers all the awful things he’s done to his most loved ones. And he clearly gloms onto “the flower brings out all your darkest/worst/most insane desires and makes them conscious thoughts” aspect of the curse - he tells CWN that the flower made real things he sometimes thought of and so it only worked because it was him and not someone better like CWN - and some of it is trying to comfort CWN and make him feel less guilty that Moran took on the flower so CWN’s won’t be forced to to - but some of it is his genuine belief. And that is what is so insidious about that curse - it twists normal stray thoughts and healthy interests into murder and insanity (compare TXJ’s obsession with CWN because Moran had such strong positive feelings about CWN before the spell, to his utter lack interest in e.g., Nangong Liu who he let run off when he took Rufeng because as long as the man didn’t fight him, he couldn’t care less what he did, because flower couldn’t turn indifference into something negative.) So I do think in addition to knowing on intellectual level about not being responsible not being equal to getting it on emotional level, Moran clearly feels responsibility because it was his emotions only out of whack and insanely perverted that the flower based its compulsions on. Moran became such a monster precisely because he has such strong loves and such strong emotions in general - strong love and desire to protect became strong hate and endless appetite for torture. The flower changes the nature of emotion and thoughts, not the level of intensity. If Shimei actually found someone who was genuinely utterly indifferent to most things (not CWN who feels so intensely; he conceals himself so much precisely because he feels SO much, cares SO much, he’d have been as much of a monster as Moran if he was the flower recepient), I am not sure he’d have been as successful. If the most someone is capable of is mild “eh,” it’s hard to turn it into a drive for world-destruction. So in a way, Taxian Jun was such a monster and so successful because Moran was so good and had such drive. Anyway, as most of my thoughts, this has gone into a random direction but the thing is, whether Moran is guilty of what TXJ did, the answer is not but not for Moran, and that’s one of the reasons I love him.

To get back to the chapters I am at, I hate Nangong Liu, one of the most despicable characters out there. Even TXJ, as messed up as he was, still hated not people who fought him fair and square or other honest villains, but people who’d kiss up only to stab you in the back, doing anything to get ahead and that is what head of Rufeng is. (There is a sentence to that extent when Moran 2.0 meets Nangong Liu - that who he hated most as TXJ was not Xue Meng or MHX but people like Nangong Liu. That loathing, like his obsession with CWN, is one of the few things consistent across any version of Moran and shows how much his “gratitude for good, straightforward is good” is embedded in him that even the flower couldn’t shove it out of him.) CWN’s comment that the reason Rufeng Sect is so rich because they charge God knows how much as opposed to Siseng Peak which charges very little and sometimes nothing, sums up the difference between the Upper and Lower cultivation realms. Rufeng is the wealthiest and most powerful and most respected but morally they are far beneath Siseng (there is a reason CWN is very gentle when he tells this to Xue ZY - CWN has about the truest and most moral heart in the series; there is a reason he stayed at Siseng, an “inferior” sect, even though everyone would love to have him. It’s because Xue ZY is righteous and he sees the wealth of Rufeng and wishes he could use it to give villages protection instead of decorating like Rufeng, because he’s that type of person.)

One of the biggest injustices to me is that Nangong Liu survives the book but Meatbun’s world is often like that. Being good does not mean a good ending, being bad does not mean proper punishment. The main OTP will make it through despite hell she puts them through, but for secondaries even those bets are off.

OK, this is getting War and Peace level long so I am going to stop.

#cnovel #2ha

[vicennon]

(long post ahead just completely fucking skip this if you don't wanna read my subjective opinion on literally every single flavor of sans in the universe)

introducing the vi scale of touch-repulsed vs. touch-starved sanses

big number = more touchy

small number = no touchy

Nightmare - Is outright disgusted if you try to hold his hand but will tolerate it for five seconds at a time before flinging you into the sun (He feels like Gak anyway)

Dream - Village treatment lead to a lot of hugs and physical affection, so he's not necessarily opposed to the occasional hug or kiss - but not especially receptive. He'll hug you back, but try not to overwhelm him. He likes to have his space respected. (It's not because he dislikes you! He just doesn't... feel like it!)

Ink - Will taunt you for trying anything with him other than the occasional hug unless it is all prompted by himself. Teases a lot if you complain. (ex. "Wow, you're a simp!" "Jeez, we're a little touchy today!" "Gross, cooties!" "Are you trying to give me the cheese touch...?")

Error - Is neutral with close proximity, but it takes him a long time to grow adjusted at all. Strongly prefers not to touch at all, and will only ever initiate very rarely. If you commentate on it, he'll become very upset and draw away. (Being that he has haphephobia, it's a little iffy putting him on the list at all, considering that his condition would wholeheartedly affect his touch sensitivity. I usually write his haphephobia as painful and anxiety-inducing, so I'm basing this purely on personality and his experience with haphephobia.)

Fell/Red - He's not... opposed. Just neutral. But like... that's not an invitation. Can easily get irritated if you try to touch him too often without his permission. Does accept cuddles.

Swap/Blue - The perfectly room temperature touch-oriented person. A true neutral. But leans towards being more receptive towards physical affection. He's more into cooking or time spent together as a display of affection, though.

Dust - On the same level of neutrality as Swap, but is further inclined towards a consistent hand-holding experience. Can come off as a little bit clingy if you're squinting. He likes to be close, or nearby - to feel your body heat or to just brush his hand against yours. Is afraid of rejection or coming off too clingy, so he often restrains himself and gives others the impression that he hates being touched.

Fresh - Almost true neutral, but leans towards being more receptive. I wanted to put him on the more touch-repulsed end of the scale, but I think he could probably fluctuate quite a bit between wanting and being upset by unsolicited touching. When he's in the mood, he'll be very physically affectionate and lounge all over you. With his height, it's easy to sling his arms around you and waddle around behind you. However, when he's not in the mood to be touched, he'll express it very visibly and become uncomfortable. He's more often receptive than not.

Horror - Seems like he'd kind of be a hug bear or something, but just takes whatever he can get. Like a black hole. If you decide you want to sit on the couch and hug him for several hours, he'll stay right there and enjoy it.

Sans/Classic - Same deal as Horror - but with more sloth involved. Will initiate contact by dragging you into the clutches of the soft and cozy couch like an octopus. Sits on people to keep them from moving, much like a very boney housecat. Mildly inconveniences everyone who crosses his path.

Fellswap/Swapfell - (There's so many variations, I'm sorry FS/SF fans) Generally neutral, but receptive and likes to flick you. Pinches you if you're distracted. Enjoys hugs but doesn't like to hold them for too long. He has too many things to do right now!! If you try to keep him in one place for an extended period of time, he'll grow very irritated and flail about like a fish. He is physically capable of throwing you out a window, don't irk him.

Outer - Is extremely chilled out and a great pillow. Couch time 24/7. Becomes comfortable literally anywhere. He doesn't initiate often if ever, but likes to hold your hand a lot. Can stay holding it for half the day, if you let him.

G - Likes to be casually touchy, but if you commentate on it, he'll get even more touchy. Like a reverse anemone. It's partially to inconvenience you, and partially because he's smug and possessive. (ex. "G, I have to go get my order from the counter, you gotta let go of me." "Oh?" G proceeds to cling, making you drag him with you to the McDonald's cash register. It's embarrassing the first few times, but you can tell him to knock it off and he'll listen.)

Lust - He's a very physically affectionate person - all cheek kisses and absentminded holds, or slinging an arm around your waist to dance with you while you chat. If you let him, he'll carry you around completely unbothered. Fireman carry, over the shoulder, under the arm like a sack of potatoes, holding you like a koala - he's deceptively strong.

Dance - Also a very physically affectionate and deceptively strong person; likes to have his hands innocently placed somewhere on your person. Kind of like he's waiting to start ballroom dancing at any moment, or to throw you into a spin when he's looking for some entertainment. Likes to stand hip-to-hip with an arm around your waist. Slings his arm around your shoulder a lot.

Farmer - Same deal as Horror, but is far more consistent and casual with his touching. Enjoys doing the "wrap from behind" thing, like a backwards hug. If you're both walking to the same spot, he'll take your hand and swing it around wildly to make you laugh. He also likes to hip bump you and give tiny little kisses anywhere he can reach easily.

Epic - Same deal as Sans/Classic - but initiates more often! Surprise hug! Surprise hand grab! Surprise secret handshake! Surprise... kiss? Often devolves into meme-ish shenanigans afterward, like going in for a romantic moment to fake you out with a rubber chicken.

Killer - Is very comfortable with touching and comes off as clingy sometimes. He likes to put his stinky socks in your lap if you're on the couch, or use people as pillows when there's space for him to be touching them. If you're shorter than him, he'll make himself comfortable putting all his weight on your upper half so you might fall over. He'll laze around anywhere and purposefully seeks out people who have things to do and pin them to the floor so he can absorb the body heat out of them. Wildly inconveniences everyone he sees. Will invade your room to take up your entire bed.

Cross - Acts like he doesn't need anyone or any hugs or whatever. "Psshh, who needs hand-holding..." But he's so touch-starved that just being close to him makes him get all gross and gooey inside. Brushes that off too. "Pshh, I'm Cross, I'm too cool for hugs and kisses... but maybe just this once..." Also, he has a body pillow of his idol (who is anyone - cartoon superhero, popstar, his boss, his boss's brother, etc. etc.) Outright denies that he needs you to hold his hand, but only pushes anyone away if someone else is looking. If you're casual with him, he'll slowly start seeking out physical affection like a very shy fish.

i can't think of anyone else right now so send an ask if you want to hear about whoever else you got on the mind

#subjective #as like everything is on here #headcanons #make your own list too if you have a different idea of how they are #these are how i write them HAHAHA #i want to see how other people write this circus #ambiguous ships #self ship #not sanscest #writing #dynamics

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 117 - Testament

But Tim isn’t going to sit home and wait, and Elias seems pretty insistent I go along. Part of me thinks it’s just so he can see if whatever this “preparation” he’s been trying to do on me works. - Jon

I guess, yeah, that's part of it and the other part is that he wants to make absolutely sure Jon gets touched by as many powers as he possibly can and sending him right into the lion's den is a good way of doing that, I suppose.

I don’t quite get those two. I suppose what they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… it’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone.

Ouch. That is a painful realisation right there! (The usual disclaimer of "I'm obviously not talking about the scale of cosmic horror here because duh or for that matter even the scale of massive trauma" but I actually think that realisation is on some level relatable because of the realisation I had multiple times in my life of "I don't really know what a close bond feels like because I've never actually been anywhere close to the best friend of the people I've considered my best friends." Fortunately my luck has shifted somewhat in the "close emotional bonds" department, or at least I hope I'm not kidding myself about that, but the realisation that some people have these fire-forged, ride-or-die relationships and you're just kinda doing your own thing, dipping a finger shallowly into human connection every once in a while and then watching it flow away, is a bit of a twinge.)

And… aside from some, uh, uh, office gossip which I, I’m not sure is necessary or, uh, conducive to a workplace that… hey, it, it, it’s natural it’s, it’s normal.

I love how Jon just goes from deep emotional turmoil to being a bit upset that people are gossipping about whatever may be going on in his love life. Talk about emotional roller coasters!

Oh, yeah, I found something on the other body the circus stole, this “George Icarus.” (...) Jurgen Leitner. I just can’t be rid of him.

Ah, okay, this is where we learn who George Icarus was. Also, the pseudonym is very fitting, I mean, Leitner did, in fact, fly too close to the goddamn sun and subsequently crash and burn when he decided to create a library of fear books, didn't he?

He always said, if you don’t like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight and you change it. Whining doesn’t help. I always tried to live like that. But I think sometimes you feel like you’re adapting, but it’s just denial. - Basira

This is definitely something I've experienced myself but it's also definitely something I've seen in some people who like to go on like Basira's dad about stiff-upper-lip-don't-whine-adapt-and-overcome to other people and shame others for expressing their emotional pain. When the cracks finally do start showing up (usually under the influence of alcohol), it's not so much a crack as a full-on explosion.

But at least Daisy’s coming. I mean, I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But, she’s solid. She’s a… a fixed point, and if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing, relative to her.

It's tragic but also on some level a little bit heartwarming that Basira never actually stops doing things relative to Daisy, even when it takes everything out of her, even when Daisy starts destroying herself.

Still stuck, still miserable, still angry. New traumas, but they hurt just like the old ones. Elias thinks he’s got this ingenious way to hurt people, but it’s just the same old and a creepy new package. Arsehole. God, I just want to rip his – When did I start to lose the parts of me that weren’t just anger? - Melanie

I always have a soft spot for the angry ones, the ones who have to forcibly stop themselves from punching people in the teeth, who have to put every last shred of willpower into keeping a lid on the boiling, hissing, steaming pot that is their inner life. The ones whose willpower sometimes fails them and then they do end up hurting people or themselves because of their anger. And not to go all REPRESENTATION here, but I'm actually glad to see that in TMA that character archetype is basically all women, because the people exploding in violent anger or having to try so fucking hard to keep it in and occasionally failing are usually guys.

They did manifest, but they weren’t what I thought they’d be. They were fused, somehow, all mixed together, a huge angry mass of dead flesh and guns.

I'm kind of glad this isn't a fully-fledged statement because I feel like that sentence, that image, is really all I need and anything further would actually weaken rather than strengthen the horror.

Good luck, Jon. I do hope you win. But I also hope it hurts.

Damn, this episode is so good at summarising characters in a line or two, isn't it?

I, I’m scared, I guess. – no, wait. No, no, I mean, ah, I don’t want that to be my last message, the thing that defines me. “Martin Blackwood, he was always scared, then he died. The end.” I don’t want that. - Martin

I'm a very anxious person and this is INSANELY relatable, this fear that all that's going to be left of you is the things you didn't do because you were terrified. ... Martin, stop making me tear up by being too damn relatable!

I need them to be safe, I need him to be okay.

Aw, Martin!

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be safe, like my plan’s not dangerous, but it’s, it’s mine. This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good leaving my own little web.

a) This thought process makes perfect sense. Sometimes you just need to express your goddamn agency, even if it's dangerous and even if it's bound to hurt and b) I know the podcast immediately lampshades the "web" thing, but WEB!MARTIN THOUGH! I MEAN! THINK ABOUT IT! That would've been such an amazing plot point and they had it all set up. I mean, he's got a lot of good Lonely-related shit going on later, too, but ... why not both? I do enjoy it when the powers squabble over a character!

I used to blame my brother for going off his own and poking around where he wasn’t wanted. I used to blame myself for not helping him. But now… now it doesn’t matter. I’ve read through enough of these things to know that this doesn’t matter. The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, open the wrong door, and that’s it! - Tim

I think Tim's view of this is actually very close to the way that TMA handles this. The Entities don't eat you because you deserve it. They just happen to happen to someone. And that makes the horror work so much better than if that wasn't the case. (It also feels closer to how LIFE actually works a lot of the time.) So I find it somewhat odd to see when people do read desert into it, I feel like that weakens the storytelling.

Honestly, I hope that Jon learned something from her because, because I don’t expect I’m going to be coming back from this. I don’t know if I want to. And if he needs to pull the trigger, to use me to stop it… well, he’d better have the guts to do it.

Well. Fuck!

Gerard’s page… Gerry. I-I know there’s more he could tell me – he he, wouldn’t of, of course, I, I know that but he, he… he would still be there, th-that, that knowledge, i-it would, it would still exist…(...) …y-you owe me one, Gerry. Rest in … Just rest. - Jon

Damn, seeing Jon struggle against the instinct to keep knowledge available to himself, seeing how much it literally hurts him and seeing him WIN is sure something. Also ... "Rest in ... just rest." ... make me cry, why don't you?

My impression of this episode

This is not so much horror as it is concentrated emotion and I adore it. I nearly teared up a few times on my relisten (I think I wasn't in quite the right headspace during my first time). The gut punch quotes come thick in this one. This may actually be my favourite plot development episode (as opposed to favourite statements that don't relate directly to the overall plot). The writing is just. so. good.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

[miralia]

Speculation on the Historical Influences on the Kyoshi Warriors of Avatar

(Disclaimer: I know there are multiple influences. This is just something I found that I thought was really interesting. And we’re not going to get into how ATLA appropriated, appreciated, and cherry-picked Asian cultures. This is just a fun thing I found out. It might just be a coincidence. If you wanted an essay on “how terrible Bryke is”, go under the “anti bryke” tag and laugh at the toxicity. This is about history.)

I don’t know if this has been done already, but I was really excited when I found out, so I had to share!

So, I’m not quite sure how I found this out, but I think I was both off-and-on researching premodern combat weapons of different cultures (link here if you want to spend a few hours ogling swords and daggers) and trying to figure out what kinds of cultural things influenced the Kyoshi Warriors. I figured out (at least I’m pretty sure I did, sword experts feel free to correct me) that they do, in fact, wield the Japanese katana (I don’t know which period. Not trying to lump anything together, just thought it was best to refer to it as a collective for fear of being wrong). This was kind of odd to me, as the Earth Kingdom appeared to have *mainly* Tang and Qing dynasty influences. So I decided to dig a little deeper on this subject.

(SECOND Disclaimer: People more well-versed in the different parts of Asian culture I will be referencing can tell me I’m wrong in the comments and I’ll edit this. I really and truly am not trying to be offensive or say my opinion is correct blindly, but at the same time, I did do my research and that has to count for something.)

Introduction

I’m an ATLA nut, as well as an Asian women’s dress nut. I’ve made connections between real clothing and ATLA clothing before, but then realized that other people had already done it, and done it much better. 

But I haven’t seen anyone really talk about the inspiration behind the Kyoshi Warriors yet, besides a few mentions, so here I am with my two cents!

The First Thing (Swords)

The first thing I noticed that started me on this quest was realizing that the Kyoshi Warriors wield katanas (also called nihonto), as opposed to a Chinese weapon that would be more fitting for their position in the Earth kingdom (like we see with Jet’s hook swords). 

For clarification, I figured this out by using still frames of Suki from the show, then measuring the rough length of her sword to her height, approximating the length to see if it would be correct (it was). Then I watched the video of the Kyoshi Warriors’ fight with Team Azula, which is (if I’m not mistaken) the only time we actually see them use their swords as well as their fans. 

In a few frames, we can see Suki’s sword has the characteristic tsuka ito (cord wrap) around the hilt of her sword, a gold-colored habaki (blade collar), as well as a golden kashira (butt cap/pommel), paired with a golden fuchi (a band at the end of the handle before the tsuba (guard)) to make a fuchigashira. From what I can gather, these are usually intricately decorated, but we can blame early 2000s animation for exempting that detail.

But anyway, the presence of the katana got me thinking. What other Japanese influences are displayed in the Kyoshi Warriors?

(Actually, scratch that. The first thing that got me clued in to the presence of Japanese influence was the red and white makeup that the Warriors wear. It seemed similar to that of the geisha, but I disregarded this as it wasn’t similar enough to warrant real research on my part. Just google ‘geisha makeup’ and you’ll see what I mean.)

And the answer was: a good few. Something Mina Le (a fashion youtuber) already touched on in her video on Avatar. But the question is, what exactly influenced them?

So, back to katanas. Once I figured out that they wielded katanas, it was a simple conclusion that they drew inspiration from the samurai of feudal Japan.

War Fans (Tessen)

Another similarity that ties them into samurai are their characteristic fans.

I actually learned about the art of Japanese war fans (tessenjutsu) before I even watched Avatar. The fans called tessen are made out of iron, but the other types of war fans, gunsen and gunbai, don’t seem to fit the bill for what the Kyoshi Warriors use them for. So, instead of being made of iron, their fans are made out of a golden metal, probably to fit their gold-and-green aesthetic.

An illustration of a warrior using a tessen.

The way they use these tessen to fight is debatably accurate. I have never studied tessenjutsu, nor do I really trust modern videos of tessenjutsu, so I have no basis. But it is said that wielders would use one to attack and one to parry, and that does seem to be somewhat what they do? Not sure if their forms or usage or that one time that one girl threw both her fans at Azula like some sort of razor-sharp Frisbee is accurate. Tessenjutsu practitioners, feel free to correct me!

But all this talk about fans and swords isn’t coming to the real core of my speculation. There is one crucial fact: samurai are men. But the Kyoshi Warriors are girls. Were there any female samurai?

The Onna-Bugeisha

Yes, there were! They were called onna-bugeisha, literally meaning “female martial artist.” You can read more about the onna-bugeisha on their Wikipedia page.

Let’s start with the similarities between the Kyoshi Warriors and the onna-bugeisha. 

Clothing/Armor

The first, and most obvious, is their clothing. The onna-bugeisha appear to wear both the traditional kimono or large, loose pants in illustrations. This really does seem to differ a lot based on source material, and I’m not knowledgeable enough to really affirmatively say why. But they do appear wearing the pants when riding horses, and the kimono when they’re standing or looking super regal in the illustrations.

Empress Jingū, a mythological example of onna-bugeisha. She became empress after her husband, the fourteenth emperor Chūai, was slain in battle. She is said to have led an expedition to Korea around 200 AD, and was the first woman on a Japanese banknote. This illustration is probably not accurate, as it was made by a European man, but it does illustrate one of the earliest known cases of onna-bugeisha in Japanese culture.

Hangaku Gozen, a famous general of the Genpei War (allied with the Taira clan).

The Kyoshi Warriors!

Bryke/the animators chose the dress route for making the Kyoshi Warriors, dressing them in split-front dresses colored in shades of green, with a dark green layered underdress under a lighter green overdress crossed left over right at the collar (like many, many different kinds of traditional Asian women’s dress). The coloration appears to be more to signify “Earth Kingdom” than to be historically accurate to the onna-bugeisha, something that was probably a good idea. Remember, this was made to be a kids’ adventure show, and they had already established the color-coding based on country. 

The sleeves are voluminous, which is definitely a characteristic of the onna-bugeisha. They are cinched at the wrists with dark cuffs, which isn’t a characteristic of all the different illustrations/photographs, but is certainly present in some. These cuffs are paired with two-toned gloves, which are always a good idea in any kind of weapon battle, but aren’t present in many, if any, photographs, but at least in some illustrations.

Partially covering the dresses is the thing that most tipped me off: the armor. It seems to be of black plating, which bears a striking resemblance to the plating/ridging on the onna-bugeisha’s armor. The chestplate itself bears a really, really close resemblance (if it isn’t an exact copy) to the chestplates of the onna-bugeisha, though the color isn’t the striking red that seems to appear a lot of the time. The rectangular shoulder/upper arm plating that is present in nearly all depictions is severely lacking, however, though this seems to be a choice to make the Warriors seem less bulky and more dynamic. Plus, it would be easier to animate. (They do have slimmer shoulder plates that attach, though.)

But the (for lack of a better word) skirt plates of the armor remain really, really similar to the onna-bugeishas’ armor. It really just looks like a scaled-down, black instead of red version. And I think that’s super cool, and one of the best pieces of evidence that backs my theory.

Topping off the “Kyoshi look” are gold-and-green headpieces that are different depending on the warrior, and a hairstyle that differs depending on the warrior. I’ll probably go more in-depth about the headpieces and hairstyles on a different post, but the gist is that yes, the presence of headpieces is historically accurate, at least in some photos/illustrations (which appears to be the norm. Can I ever get something concrete here?). 

Examples of onna-bugeisha wearing headpieces.

All of them wore helmets (obviously), but some seem to have some sort of decorative aspect (again, tell me if I’m wrong and the pieces have a meaning or purpose). 

Edit: One commenter, @atla-headcanons​, said that their Japanese grandmother once said that warriors’ headdresses were status symbols, as well as ways to tell allies from enemies. This would be supported by the fact that Suki, as the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, would have a headpiece similar to Kyoshi’s, and the rest of the Warriors would have different ones. I was unable to fact-check this at the time (may return to it later), but it seems likely, and it would be really cool if it was intentional on the characters’ designs!

Avatar Kyoshi 

The second thing that made me speculate whether the Kyoshi Warriors were connected to the onna-bugeisha was actually Kyoshi herself.

We all know about badass Avatar Kyoshi. She’s amazing. A definite certified badass. But there might actually have been a real-world counterpart to her. Nakano Takeko, a famous onna-bugeisha of the Aizu Domain who fought and died in the Boshin War, could have been possible inspiration for her.

Statue of Nakano Takeko. I don’t trust that the pictures on Pinterest are actually her.

Not only is Nakano a certified badass, taking down five to six men with her naginata in the Battle of Aizu, she also taught women and children to fight with the naginata for a time. Sound familiar? It might just be a coincidence, but I’m sticking to my theory here. You can read more about her here, but I’ll give a rundown of the highlights that make her a Kyoshi-Level Badass™:

- Taught naginata to the lord of Niwase’s wife

- Taught naginata to women and children in Aizuwakamatsu castle

An onna-bugeisha wielding a naginata. They’re pretty awesome!

-  Worked in defense of the shōgun Tokugawa Yoshinobu

- Fought in the Battle of Aizu using a Japanese weapon (naginata) against a white weapon (guns)

- Created and headed an ad-hoc group of female warriors in the Battle of Aizu, retroactively called the Jōshitai (Girls’ Army). She did this without permission, as the senior Aizu retainers didn’t want them to fight and wouldn’t let them fight as an official part of the domain’s army

- When she was taken down by a rifle shot to her chest, she asked her sister Yūko to behead her so that the enemy couldn’t take it as a trophy. Her sister employed the help of Ueno Yoshisaburō, and did as she was asked

- With the reforms of the Meiji Era (samurai class abolished, western-style army established), Nakano Takeko was one of the last samurai in history.

Conclusion

That concludes my essay! Remember, this is all speculation. If you have your own take, please tell me! I love hearing all the cultural influences in Avatar.

Now, if Bryke meant to make the Kyoshi Warriors to be inspired by the onna-bugeisha, then there is something more that I would have liked to see. It would have been really cool to see them use naginata in the show, as it was actually originally a weapon for females to use, its length compensating for the smaller body size and comparatively lesser brute strength of women warriors.

(Also, I just want Suki utterly destroying Sokka with a naginata in that episode where she kicks his butt to prove a point. Hey, I’m a simple girl with simple tastes.) 

Sources:

Basically all Wikipedia. I’m sorry I couldn’t reference, like, ebooks on this subject. But I did look at the reference lists for the Wikipedia articles I used, and they all seemed to be credible ones. So, don’t come at me, please! I did the best I could!

I really appreciate whoever read this far. It takes stamina! 

Thanks for reading!

#avatar theory #avatar the last airbender #kyoshi warriors #a:tla #atla #atla theory #atla essay #onna-bugeisha #samurai #japan #japanese culture #suki #sukka #avatar kyoshi #atlaworld

[fandomsnfluff]

ok so i wanted to do this meme with itaru from a3 bc i love him and he has such lee energy like omg i love him (he’s also my birthday twin but shhhh <333)

on a scale of 1-10, how ticklish are they? this bitch is straight up a 10 like omg. poor thing is stupid sensitive like everywhere RIP

where is their most ticklish spot(s)? it’s hard to pinpoint where he’s the most sensitive honestly??? his sides, neck and feet are pretty bad tho skdjfhskjdhf

which spots are they not ticklish? he doesn’t have much of a reaction on parts of his arms and shins obv but pretty much anywhere else is bAD

what is their laugh like? very high-pitched and panicked, he makes every noise under the sun too!!! you’ll likely hear snorting, squealing, chortling, screaming, ALL OF IIITTTTT

do they enjoy tickling? if yes, is it a fun platonic/familial thing, or kinky thing to them, or can it be both depending on the circumstance? he’s a bit shy with physical contact generally, if it’s someone he trusts he’s not as opposed to it, but most of the time it’s definitely a platonic thing.

are they more often a lee or ler, generally? he actually gives off BIG switch energy, but he more often than not ends up a lee. if he has the upper hand then he’s pretty merciless, but he’s much too easy to overpower ;o;

who is someone in their life that they tickle often? again, he doesn’t really tickle people a lot unless if he really trusts them or knows that they’re not gonna get mad. he is much, MUCH more often the target of playful tickles

who is someone in their life that they get tickled by often? like???? most of the adults at mankai tbh. i’d also say mostly chikage tho cuz they’re roommates (and ngl i ship the two of them HAAAARD), just the thought of it is cute as shit to me. their dynamic esp in soft situations like this i just. melt on the spot when i think about it sdfhsjfhdkj

does the word “tickle” or any variation of embarrass them? not really, no. he doesn't really think about how it could be used against him, at least not at first, but it depends on the context by which it’s being used. it does usually end up getting turned on him when he gets really involved in a conversation or event regarding it though.

are they embarrassed about their ticklishness, and do they try to deny/hide it? oh GOD yes. even though he more often presents himself as his “gentle office worker” persona outside of the dorm, the part of not ruining his outer image still is retained at home and when he’s gaming, and he desperately tries to hide it in ANY situation. he will deny it until the end of the earth, but he is NOT going to be the only one dying with this information (and he knows it deep down, to his own dismay).

would gentle tickling or rough tickling affect them more? he’s stupidly weak to both, so it really depends on the spot!! light tickles work better on the lower body and his neck, but digging into his sides, ribs, or armpits will have him screaming.

is there a specific spot that they enjoy being tickled, either exclusively or more than other spots? what is it? god no, he absolutely HATES being tickled. like, anywhere. he always forgives his lee, though, especially if it’s someone he trusts. but he WILL try to subtly get them back in some way (it doesn’t have to involve tickling).

is there a spot that they can’t stand to be tickled, either because it’s just too sensitive, or it’s uncomfortable/painful/etc? what is it? he absolutely cannot stand being tickled anywhere, he’s just FAR too sensitive. sometimes he finds armpit and rib tickles painful too because there’s like bones and stuff around there and often his lee ends up pressing way too hard and he might end up yelling out in pain.

would they ever purposefully bug a friend/partner/sibling into tickling them, and if so, how would they go about it? NEVER EVER. we’ve established that he hates being tickled so he wouldn’t EVER try to get someone to do it if he had the power to keep them away from him.

does teasing affect them? surprisingly it does! he desperately tries not to let it show, but he gets all flustered and he starts to squirm and yell and beg a lot more when being teased!!

(listen ik i said i asked for obey me hcs or thoughts n fun stuff but i had this in my drafts so i wanted to share it. i’ve had this gamer-obsessed bitch on my mind a LOT lately and i absolutely stan him don’t @ me skjdhfsjkdfh)

#a3! #a3! headcanons #headcanons #my posts

[jammingwithpigeon]

Alright, so I know this isn't my usual content AT ALL, but I wanted to answer this because it’s a topic that interests me. On that note, I’d like to add that I am pretty new to leftist ideologies + politics in general myself, so I’m definitely not the best person to go to for knowledge on this stuff. For other questions, I put a bunch of links at the end of this post, mainly to videos and other resources about communism.

Without further ado, here’s my response (in almost 800 words). @yuckyking​

No class divide.

Karl Marx (this name will be brought up a lot if you seriously want to get into/research communist theory, so I’d hope you know who he is) proposed that there are two social classes: the proletariat, and the bourgeoisie. The proletariat is the working class or the lower class. To once more reference what Marx has written, these are the people who are oppressed by capitalism. The bourgeoisie is generally the upper class, however, Marx referred to the middle class as the petite bourgeoisie as well. These are the people who own businesses, and of course, the means of production. The bourgeoisie owns the means of production, while the proletariat works to operate it. Marx and Engels (another name that will be brought up often) claim that the proletariat is exploited and alienated in modern society. A video that further explains what he meant can be found here. Now, going back to that “owning businesses” part...

Common ownership of the means of production.

Assuming you only have a surface-level understanding of stuff like this, you might’ve heard this one before, but don’t know what it means. The means of production are the tools, resources, and materials that create goods. As I already mentioned, the bourgeoisie owns the means of production while the proletariat operates them. The assumption is that if everybody owned the means of production, money would be distributed much more equally because the bourgeoisie would not be able to profit from somebody else’s labor or exploit the proletariat on that scale anymore.

“From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs”

This phrase is supposed to apply to an ideal communist society where there is no scarcity, and technology has advanced enough for people to be able to do the stuff they enjoy, as opposed to working unpleasant jobs that could be replaced by robots. People would have more freedom to do work that they love, and therefore they would actively want to continue working and contribute as much as possible. The second part of the phrase is based on the goal that everyone can receive what they need to live without having to pay for it, thanks to that aforementioned lack of scarcity. The whole idea is based on intrinsic motivation, instead of the extrinsic motivation that is so present in today’s society.

Abolishing money (and/or redistributing the wealth).

This one is going to be a lot vaguer because most of us have no clue how we’d get to a money-less society and only a slight idea of what it’d look like. All we know is that money causes greed and inequality and that we could probably get around the need for money if we saw value differently and, again, focused on nurturing people’s intrinsic motivation instead of having extrinsic motivation forced on everyone. You could say this point ties the other ones together.

I know you’ve asked for 5 responses, but communism is a broad term for quite a few different ideologies (Marxism, anarcho-communism, religious communism, etc.), so I hope 4 general answers will do.

Other human beings would be prioritized over money. 

I believe basic human necessities like healthcare, food, etc., should be free to all. Nobody asked to be born, and nobody asks to be impoverished or ill. Why would you force someone to work and pay to live? If money wasn’t valued the same way as it is now, and resources that are abundant in some places are distributed to other places that need them, those who suffer solely because of the conditions they were born into would still be able to at the very least survive.

Capitalism likely won’t survive future technological advancements anyways.

As humans advance, robots are going to become better, more intelligent. Robots are predicted to take over millions of jobs in the near future, some people even saying over 400 million by 2030. Unemployment will skyrocket, and people have predicted this for at least a century and a half. Capitalism is literally doomed.

Systems under capitalism are unfair and oppressive.

After you’ve already read everything else, I think that’s enough said.

Other things you may want to look at (that I’ve also looked at):

A video by Nicholas Black where he goes further in-depth on the things I only briefly touched on, and explains why he himself is a communist as well.

Entertaining + well-organized video by Spooky Scary Socialist responding to every anti-communist counterclaim.

Short + educational video by The School of Life explaining Marx’s beliefs and criticisms of capitalism.

Even shorter video by NowThis World describing the differences between socialism and communism.

Literally any of Marx and Engel’s works regarding capitalism and/or communism.

r/communism101, r/communism, r/DebateCommunism, r/Marxism

#holy shit i straight up wrote an essay for you #and it took me about 4 hours in total #not aj/feral #🠔cleary #communism #anarcho-communism #long post #marxism #marx #socialism #libleft #libertarian communism #politics

[thewritershelpers]

Let’s Get Dressed (FULL)

A long, long time ago (2013, to be exact), H from TheWritersHelpers and C from WriteWorld (inactive) got together for a collaboration on how to write and describe clothing. This is the fruits of their labor.**

Anonymous asked: Any tips on describing clothing?

The Writer’s Helpers and WriteWorld have teamed up to create a series on clothing and fashion. These articles were primarily written in the context of how to write about clothing. 

Clothing is a term that is used to describe items worn by humans (and recently other animals, like tiny dogs), either for practical reasons or for reasons of style. Since humans have been wearing clothing for tens of thousands of years, it’s probably best to narrow down the timeframe for the clothing you’re describing to a particular era, year, season, etc. With that in mind, let’s talk about fashion!

Fashion (n): A popular trend, esp. in styles of dress, ornament, or behavior.

We’ll be discussing the dress and ornament portion of this definition. Now, there are a few ways that fashion might affect your description of clothing: Your character might be fashionable, ahead of the times, behind the times, or apart from fashion entirely. All of this is going to make a difference not only in what the clothing actually is, but also in what there is to describe about said clothing. Let’s have a look at these different positions for your character on the fashion scale:

1. Fashionable. Fashionable characters are insiders. They are usually very in tune with what is hip with the kids. Fashionable characters (for an example, read the booksThe Devil Wears Prada,,The Princess Diaries, and Confessions of a Shopaholic) can usually have a backstory where they once were not fashionable- perhaps the unpopular nerd- and with a little help or luck, improve their fashion sense. Magazines such as Vogue, Seventeen, or GQ can act as guides for your fashionista characters in present day. For more on eras, check out the “Links to Look At” section at the end of this article. If you’re writing a fashionable character, you might use clothing labels to describe your character’s clothes as opposed to just describing the color, size, etc. You might also want to thread themes through the character’s style, such as the season or a trademark for the character (think always wears yellow or channels Audrey Hepburn on the red carpet). Materials vary often in fashion, but fashionable characters are more likely to wear expensive fabrics and jewelry. After all, they have a reputation to uphold. 

2. Ahead of the times. These are the trendsetters, the fashion pioneers, the people who pave the way for others and push the boundaries in all the right ways. Trends come and go, but the fashion forward never look back. Characters wearing forward-thinking fashion (or couture) might find themselves in fur and duct tape and think nothing of it. Descriptions of their clothing might tend toward the bizarre and using eclectic words may help drive home the eccentricities of their style.  For example: Her aluminum coat sparked like Tesla coils in the firelight. Weird descriptors aren’t a problem for fashion-forward characters. The weirder, the better.

3. Behind the times. There are those unfortunate souls who do not keep up with the fashion popular at the time your story takes place. Whether it’s the 1580’s or the 1980’s, not all fashions are universal. Styles come and go, but if your character’s whole wardrobe was procured twenty years before the story begins, they’re probably not up with the latest fashions. This might arise from monetary constraints or because of isolation, but the simple fact is: not everything is retro-chic.

Retro-Chic (adj): pertaining to the fashionableness of the nostalgic revival of a style.

Characters who are behind the times might have old clothes that aren’t in the best condition. They may not have the vocabulary to describe the clothes they wear or that others wear with any degree of accuracy. This most especially applies to clothing labels or technical terms for the design of clothes as the character is not up on the popular designers and the newest fashions.

Apart from fashion altogether. There are many reasons why a character might be apart from fashion. Fashion is essentially self-expression, and some people don’t care. Take into consideration religious preferences (monk attire is pretty standard), strict parental figures (if your character is a youngster), or time travel (we’re lookin’ at you, Doctor Who). Characters who stand apart from fashion may also be unaware of the terminology to accurately describe clothing popular at the time and in the place of your story. These characters might not, for example, know the word “silk” and so must describe around the word. They might not have any concept for manufactured material and therefore have trouble describing nylon or faux leather.

Links to Look At:

“Why Do We Wear Clothes?” by vsauce

Glossary of Clothing Terms by allwords.com

Your Guide to Clothing Terms by EBay

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Let’s look at detail. What sort of descriptors could you use, how could you use them, and why?

Try not to go overboard with the description, but make your descriptive words count. Let’s look at an example of a simple description of the two largest articles of clothing on an example character:

She wore a top and a skirt. 

That’s pretty basic. “Top”, for example, isn’t very descriptive. After all, women’s fashion is complicated! So, let’s use specific terminology: 

She wore a blouse and a skirt. 

You might add color: 

She wore a black blouse and a gray skirt. 

You might add fabric descriptions (Remember, the color describes the fabric now, so it goes before the descriptive word for whatever material the clothing is made of):

She wore a black silk blouse and a gray tweed skirt. 

There are other descriptors worth mentioning such as how the clothing drapes or hangs, its age and general condition, its size and length, and the overall feeling toward it from the narrator. 

How it drapes: The dress was slinky; it clung to her curves and pooled like water at her feet.

Its age/condition: His jeans were faded and ratty at the seams, especially on the back pockets where there were inch-wide holes.

Its size/length: Her boyfriend’s XXL shirt nearly swallowed her up and fell to her knees like a shapeless potato sack.

Narrator feeling: It was an ugly gray uniform. 

With all of these descriptors around, the business of relaying useful information to the the reader about a character’s clothing can get pretty muddled. No one wants to read a description like:

She wore a boring black silk blouse that was over-large, a few years old, and hung blandly from the crest of her breasts. Her shin-length gray tweed pencil skirt was also old and too small for her hips. 

There is just way too much going on there. Too many descriptors. Cut out the adjectives and adverbs that aren’t absolutely necessary, the ones that don’t really add anything essential to character or the look and feel of the scene. You may think that the above example is so obviously bloated that it’s too easy for me to state offhand that you must hack away at its descriptors and leave only the bare essentials. Well, I agree, but it is possible to have a decent bit of description and still overshare. For instance, it might be way too detailed to embroider the blouse and skirt example thusly:

She wore a black silk blouse that shone in the flourescent light of the waiting room. It had loose sleeves that gathered at the crook of her elbows with a little bow and buttons covered in the same sleek material as the blouse. Her skirt was made of gray tweed and slightly out of fashion. The waist cut uncomfortably into her stomach just below her navel and the hem rode up past her knees when she sat. She couldn’t cross her legs in the skirt; it was too tight. 

Now, if the “loose sleeves that gathered at her elbows” are described for a purpose--maybe she has an injury or blemish she’s trying to conceal or she’s very modest--then details of this kind are great to have. Unless the details of the clothes are important to develop the character or the plot or the setting, you need not distract the reader with unnecessary description. 

There are a few methods to consider when describing clothing. 

Blocks. Block style moves from the biggest, most noticeable articles of clothing to the smallest. It describes in a similar order to what the eye sees. Since the largest piece of clothing at around eye-level will be covering the upper body, block style usually starts there with a shirt or jacket or the bodice of a dress. Layers in an outfit are described from the outermost clothing item to the innermost item, then go back to catch the accent items. 

For example: He wears a jacket, vest, and crisp white shirt with a checkered tie and matching blue pocket handkerchief. 

Another fun tip: If items match, you only need to describe one with the corresponding details. Notice that I was able to omit the color of the tie because I said the blue handkerchief matched it and that I didn’t mention the pattern on the handkerchief because we knew that it at least looked good with a checkered tie. 

In the instance of a dress, however, it is more likely that block style will point out the most noticeable (i.e. largest) part of the dress first. If the dress has a poofy skirt, you can bet block style will point that out. Regardless, if the article of clothing covering the upper body is separate from the article covering the lower body, block style usually describes the top first then moves to the bottom then to details like shoes, belts, and jewelry.

Colors. A large part of clothing is color. The color of what a person wears often depicts their mood without them realizing. It has a lot to do with color psychology (x), which describes how different colors affect a person’s mood. The human eye is also attracted to bright colors (some of which even cause headaches and irritation, such as bright yellow or red), though the average eye can see around seven million colors. For more information on color theory, click here. 

More likely than not, a person wearing orange might be noticed before a person wearing gray. The eye is drawn to the orange because it is bright and demanding. Weather also affects what colors a character would wear. For example, in winter months, many people wear darker colors such as black, navy, grays, and browns (termed neutrals) because the lack of Vitamin-D in the human body doesn’t allow for endorphins to be produced as largely, causing a decline in mood. It is commonly believed that darker colors represent darker or depressing moods. And in summer months, your character might be wearing brighter colors such as yellows, pinks, and greens because sunlight elevates a person’s mood.

It is also important to remember the cultures of your characters. Say a character is getting married and is of Irish descent. Assuming she’s traditional, she would wear a blue wedding dress because in ancient times, blue represented purity and was the prefered color for brides. In many cultures, such as in Sweden and China, the color white represents mourning or death. It is essential to research the culture of your characters. Otherwise, you may end up with a white wedding that feels like a heck-of-a-lot more like a funeral. For more on what brides wear around the world, click here. For more on color symbolism, try here and here.

Describing colors can be difficult and you don’t want to be put into the category of really cliche fan fiction descriptions. His green orbs watered and he blinked to keep the tears from spilling over... Not happening here. Generally, you’ll need another word to help describe the color of something (for a list, click here). For example:

His shirt was pastel blue.

Placing “pastel” in front of “blue” indicates that the blue that he was wearing was lighter, or closer to a neutral color than if he were to be wearing a dark blue shirt. 

Her jeans were covered in patches fabric with flamboyant pink bunnies.

What do you think when you see the word flamboyant? You think bright; you think colorful; you think brightly colored and decorated. It adds more than just saying “Her jeans had patches in them”. Don’t be afraid to dip into the Crayola Crayon color dictionary and use names of colors like “Mac n’ Cheese Orange” or “Sahara Desert”. Used in the right context, these colors can add another dimension to your regular oranges and browns. Though these fun words are great alternatives to your average colors, be careful not to overuse them. No one wants to read one incredibly-detailed clothing item after another. 

Fun fact: If you put a group of women in a room, those who are wearing red are most likely on their period. 

Reverse Order of Dress. This is a weird one. When in doubt, describe in the order that you put on your clothes--backwards. Obviously, you’d want to start with the visible items and work your way closer and closer to the body. So, if you put on your shirt then your pants then your cardigan then your shoes, describe in that order. 

** This is not to say that H will not continue this series later on. However, this is the extent of their collaboration. 

#Collab #Collab with WriteWorld #WriteWorld #Lets Get Dressed #Describing clothing #description #writing clothing #writing help #Made by TWH