#tried to give the wings a ragged appearance

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Finally did art of Miriam!! It's mostly concept at this point, but I did give Miriam funky blood wings mostly because I felt like she needed something to more outwardly make her inhuman.

They're based largely off of moth wings hence the eyes and the general way they sit when not in use. It was this or give Miriam more than two eyes.

The blood sword is unashamedly based off of the chikage from Bloodborne for Miriam IS influenced heavily by Bloodborne specifically lady Maria.

#ngl very happy with her design thus far #gonna draw more of her #and give more ✨️lore✨️ about her as well #hellsing oc #dhampir #enjoy my rambles #hellsing ultimate #the wings were hell #but so much fun #WHY did I give her so many veins on her wings??? #this was made with liberal use of sparkly pens #my art #traditional art #tried to give the wings a ragged appearance

[stevieschrodinger]

“You’ve changed,” Carol pops her gum, every snake on her head is turned and glaring at Steve.

“Yeah,” he replies stoically, “yeah, I have.”

Carol rolls her eyes at him, “so what? That’s it? One summer and you’re too good for me now-”

It’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. He’s aware that Robin has come up to stand next to him, their knuckles brush together and Carol obviously catches it, raising an eyebrow, “Really? You’re fucking Buckley?” She hisses at him, all her snakes weaving gently like they’re waiting for the strike, laser focused on Steve.

It ruffles his feathers, he can’t help that, but he keeps his expression neutral, “yeah, well, what I do doesn’t concern you.”

She hisses again, an actual hiss, forked tongue and fang making an appearance before she stomps off, no doubt to find Tommy. Rob moves closer, pressed together fingers to shoulder, she tilts her head so that her snakes can greet him. They nose Steve’s cheek gently at first, uncertain, before Steve nuzzles them and then they all join in, Steve’s face being licked by dozens of happy tongues. Robin giggles, “dingus.”

All of Robin’s snakes sit low, relaxed, all lovely shades of copper and bronze, just like the scales that decorate her cheekbones and eyebrows. Carol’s are venomous green and always look like they’re hunting for prey.

Steve looks down; she’s done something to the scales, glitter, or something, but it looks pretty. Steve before wouldn’t know how to do this; how to give a simple honest compliment to a friend. Old Steve only said things that were shitty, just to make him feel better about himself, “looks nice, the,” Steve gestures vaguely to the space next to his own eyes, where white downy feathers lie flat to his skin, “shiny. I like it.”

Robin grins up at him, “we could do you, silver would look good?”

“Nah,” Steve looks around again, “I’d never get it out of- hey is that Munson?” Steve asks, frowning as he watches the guy clop along, hooves poking out from the ends of his ragged jeans. It’s Munson, Steve already knows, obviously, but he looks really different, “his horns are in,” Steve realises.

“Yeah,” Robin agrees sadly.

It takes a second for Steve to put it together, “oh shit, Chrissy.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t realise they were so close...were they..?”

Robin shakes her head, “just really good friends. Her family...they wouldn’t let him go to the funeral.”

“Well...shit,” because that is shit. He knew Chrissy and Munson used to hang out all the time, didn’t know if they were a thing or whatever; didn’t care then. That was before this summer and Robin at Scoops and the shit with Max and her brother and the fall of king Steve. He knows the kids know Munson; knows they really like him. It’s not fair that Chrissy’s family wouldn’t let him go, just because of what he is. Just because he lives in the trailer park with the rest of the Demons.

He sits with the kids at lunch, just ignores all the looks he gets. He doesn’t need to do much, just sits and eats and listens as the kids prattle on about nerd shit. When Munson comes in, shoulders slumped and picking up a tray to join the line, Steve’s eyes are drawn to him. Dustin spots him too, the kid looks sympathetic, but his tail’s wagging away at the sight of his friend, “gonna’ go say hi to Eddie,” Dustin slides off the bench, ears pricked in Eddie’s direction.

Unfortunately he walks straight into Tommy Hagan, “watch it pup,” Tommy snorts, sets his ridiculously wide shoulders and lowers his horns as he pushes Dustin hard enough he stumbles a few steps.

Steve wants to rip the ring right out of his nose, he gets up, wings spreading and white feathers fluffing in a threat display. No one fucks with the kids. Dustin whines out a little puppy growl, “fuck off Hagan.”

“Watch your fucking mouth <i>dog,”</i> Tommy tries to push him again, but Steve gets in the way, shoving Tommy so hard he nearly goes over.

Steve’s vaguely aware that he’s pissed enough that the light around his head is brighter than usual, and he’s glad when Tommy struggles to look at him, blinking at the glare, “fuck this, whatever.”

“Thanks Steve,” Dustin says, before loping off to go and stand with Eddie. Turns out Eddie was watching the entire thing, and his and Steve’s eyes briefly meet, Eddie’s slitted pupils contracted against the light, but he doesn’t look away until Dustin tugs at his jacket.

Steve sits again, curious now, “Max?” she looks at him as she’s ripping into beef jerky with her fangs, he indicates the tiny baby horns sticking from high up on her forehead, “they grow in when something bad happens, right?”

She swallows a huge piece of meat in one go, “not necessarily bad...just, you know. Enough to change you. I hope I’m fucking angry when mine happens.”

“Yeah?”

She hums, gnawing on the meat, “makes em spikey.”

Steve looks at Eddie, his horns curl back and down, like a ram, all smooth and dark, almost containing his fluffy curls, “and what do Eddie’s mean?”

Max looks over, then looks back, shrugging, “grief, I guess.”

Eddie’s sitting alone a week later, and Steve feels like he has to check in with the guy, at least, “I’m just going to say hi to Munson.” Robin smiles up at him, squeezing his fingers, “what?”

“You’re just...that’s a good thing, I’m proud of you Steve.”

He rolls his eyes to hide how that has made him feel, tickling the chins of a couple of her snakes and making her giggle as a distraction before he heads over. Eddie’s got a book open on the table and he’s scribbling in a notebook, “Dungeons and Dragons, right?”

Eddie blinks up at him, “how the fuck do you know that?”

Steve takes it as enough of an invitation to at least perch on the opposite bench, “I do listen when the kids talk. Sometimes.”

It gets a little half smile out of Munson, a fang poking out that’s kind of attractive. His pupils are black slits, but the iris is a lovely, honey brown. There’s flames moving in the depths, shifting shades of brown. The whole thing is kind of attractive, Steve can’t help but notice. Eddie seems to have suddenly grown into himself over the summer. His wings look bigger too; stronger, dark black and leathery, folded neatly against his back.

Steve can feel his own wings tipping, feathers fluffing. He can see them moving out of the corner of his eye, wing joints dipping low and wing tips fluttering, and can’t help but look betrayed by them.

Eddie’s wings spread in answer, large, joint tips held high. Dominant.

Well, shit.

Somewhere far away, Steve is very vaguely aware of Robin producing a wolf whistle and then Dustin’s puppy howl joining in.

He wants the ground to open up and swallow him when Eddie raises an eyebrow, “something you want, sweetheart?” His fangs flash.

Steve figures he’s all in, he can’t hide what his body apparently wants, and half the school has probably seen this little display, “are you, you know, doing anything later?”

“Yeah,” Eddie leans closer over the table, resting on his elbows, “hopefully I’ll be <i>doing</i> something alright.”

“Come over. Six ish,” Steve manages to get out before he flees for his life.

Eddie has him pinned to the door and is kissing the life out of him before Steve really registers what’s happening. Eddie’s a bitey kisser, and it’s all Steve can do to keep up. Eddie grips both Steve’s wrists in one hand, pins them above his head and Steve just...melts. Lets Eddie have it, the control, the everything. Eddie grabs a handful of Steve’s feathers and tugs...ever so gently. It’s enough to summon a moan of pleasure from Steve.

“Bed,” Eddie growls against his mouth, fangs pressing to Steve’s plush lip without splitting skin, “please, tell me we’re going to bed.”

Steve nods frantically, and Eddie gets the memo and lets him go, following as Steve takes the stairs two at a time.

Eddie’s skin is pale and dotted with tattoos. The happy trail from his tummy button is soft brown fur, it spreads out to his hips, his goat legs ending in shiny black cloven hooves. The leaking, red head of his penis is starting to emerge from it’s furred sheath. Below it, Eddie’s ridiculously large balls hang heavy; it makes Steve’s mouth water. Steve is delighted to find Eddie had a tiny little wisp of a tail; it’s barely long enough to cover the tight pucker of Eddie’s asshole, and it wags, brushing against Steve’s fingers, as Steve investigates the tight ring of muscle with a dry fingertip.

It wags faster when Steve starts to rub gentle circles. Eddie tolerates Steve’s touches for a moment before spreading his wings and manhandling Steve onto the bed. Steve has to spread his wings to they don’t get smushed under him, and he lands with a happy, “oof.”

Eddie’s on him immediately, kissing and licking and sucking at every square inch of bare skin. He works his way down, kneeling on the floor and hooking Steve’s thighs with his arms before dragging him down the bed. Steve’s thighs land on Eddie’s shoulders and before Steve knows it, his ass is being lifted, cupped in Eddie’s hands, as Eddie spreads him and finds Steve’s hole with his mouth.

Steve cries out in pleasure, Eddie’s tongue is sinuous and broad and he works it into Steve’s hole, licking and moaning. Eddie’s eyes are closed, and Steve can’t help but look down his own body to watch, some of Eddie’s face obscured by Steve’s own erection. There’s the soft noise of Steve’s wings shifting, and Steve white knuckle grips the covers, fighting the urge to just straight up fuck himself down onto Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie’s ridiculously long, talented tongue.

“I want to hold your horns while I ride you.”

Eddie’s eyes blink open, and he pulls back, smirking, “that can most definitely be arranged.”

Steve shifts, giving Eddie space to get on the bed, Steve climbing over him before he even really settles. Eddie fur is soft on Steve’s thighs, and the curve of his goat legs means Steve has an extra comfy dip to sit in.

Eddie’s bare cock is hard and leaking everywhere, the skin red and shiny and flush, his sheath completely rolled down now, a little furry pouch at the base. If they get the chance to do this again, Steve wants to nuzzle those heavy looking balls.

Eddie grips him by the hips, his wings come up too, the joints resting against Steve’s ribs for extra stability. Steve flares his own wings for balance, pleased when Eddie’s eyes flick across to drink in the snowy white feathers. Steve slips a hand between his thighs, gentle where he holds Eddie’s turgid flesh, and slowly eases his body down. He’s wet and messy and open from Eddie’s tongue, and the pointed shape slips in easy enough. Eddie’s big though, big enough that the stretch burns a little, quickly soothed by the copious amounts of pre come Eddie is leaking.

“Okay,” Eddie breaths, “not even so much a question. His fingertips are digging into Steve’s flesh from the effort of holding still, so Steve puts them both out of there misery and starts to rock, leaning forward a little to grip Eddie’s horns, pinning him to the bed.

The soft tickle of Eddie’s fur against Steve’s ass is wonderful, the feel of wing leathery wing wrapping tight to Steve is even better. Steve’s wings curve down to lay over Eddie’s without his permission, and Steve catches Eddie staring at where the white feathers sit next to the black skin.

Eddie likes it.

Steve likes it too.

Eddie reaches down, wrapping a hand around Steve’s dripping cock, giving Steve something to fuck into as he rocks up and down. If Eddie minds Steve using his horns for leverage, he doesn’t show it. At all.

Steve pulls a hand up, slaps it over Eddie’s eyes, “I’m close. It’ll get bright, I- I- Eddie. Eddie I’m gonna’ come-”

Eddie pulls Steve’s hand away, “I can take it,” he says, breathless, something big tugging at Steve’s rim, more pressure trying to push inside, Steve wants it, knows it’ll make him come.

The pressure breaks, slips past Steve’s rim with a pop, Steve is suddenly so full, so stretched, the room is bathed in bright light but Eddie watches him anyway, slit pupils made paper thin to stave off any damage. His mouth hangs open, forked tongue and fangs on display.

Steve’s come paints Eddie’s stomach as his orgasm pulses through him, ass grinding into the soft fur in the cradle of Eddie’s hips. He can feel wave after wave of heat as Eddie comes inside him; it feels endless.

Steve is panting and sweaty as they come down from it together, Eddie fingers skating carefully across Steve’s skin, shifts to his wings to pet his feathers, when Steve tries to shift though, Eddie freezes, eyes wide with shock...and then pleasure as he ruts upward uncontrollably, movements sloppy, Steve can feel the hot pulse of more come inside him.

Steve too; he can’t move, Eddie’s cock lodged inside him.

“What is that?”

Eddie frowns now, and then he looks away, suddenly very uncomfortable. Steve doesn’t like that look on Eddie’s face, “I think I’ve knotted you,” he mumbles.

Steve’s not even sure what that is, “how long does it last?”

“I, ah, don’t know, it’s never happened before.”

Steve wriggles his hips, enjoying the tug of Eddie’s knot at his rim, likes the hot splash in his gut as Eddie ruts helplessly, coming again, skin flushed pink and eyes sliding closed with a moan of pure bliss.

“Never?”

“No,” Eddie pants out, blinking up at Steve once he gets himself under control again, “it, it only happens when we find out mates,” Eddie breaths the words out all together, and his eyes slide away, like he’s embarrassed.

Steve tugs him back by the curve of his horn, makes him look at Steve, “you think my wings bow to just anyone?”

Eddie looks thrilled when he realises what Steve must mean, smile big and happy before it collapses back into itself, “but surely you, I mean, what about another Angel? What about...you know, a real life? A family?”

“What, you think a life with you wouldn’t be a real one-?”

“You know what I mean-” Eddie hisses as his half deflated knot suddenly slips free. Steve groans, and is very, very fucking aware of the flood of come that drips right back out of him.

“We can have kids, if you want them.”

Eddie swallows, he doesn’t seem a jot bothered by the small lake of bodily fluids that must be soaking into the fur of his crotch and thighs, “adoption, or something?”

Steve nods, “if you want to. But I am an angel. I’m a literal vessel Eddie. If you want babies, I can carry them.”

Eddie blinks up at him, slitted pupils turning wide with surprise as he looks up at Steve, “I didn’t know that, thought you guys were vessels for, holy light, or something,” Eddie’s eyes are filled with fire. Not gold, like Steve’s, but a shimmer in his natural brown, hidden until you know where to look. It’s beautiful.

Steve nods, “we don’t even have to have sex, it’s just a little bit of my soul, a little bit of yours-”

“I don’t-” Eddie looks away, again, swallows thickly, “I don’t have one.”

Steve has to pull him back again, gently, this time, a soft touch to Eddie’s cheek until he finally looks back up at Steve through his lashes, “is that what they tell you?”

Eddie nods, Steve shakes his head.

“It’s not true baby, you have one, I see it, burning bright.”

Eddie smiles, clearly pleased, rolling them so they can snuggle together, their wings hanging off either side of the bed. They kiss. Soft and slow, the very tinniest hint of Eddie’s fangs. Steve loves the brush of Eddie’s fur against his legs.

“Your light...that thing go away when you’re sleeping?”

Steve laughs, “nope.”

Eddie sighs, “you’re the big spoon then, no way in Hell I’ll be sleeping with that nonsense shining right in my face.”

#eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #getting together #demon eddie munson #angel steve harrington #AU #the party #werewolf dustin henderson #gorgon robin buckly #mythical creatures #fantasy au #fantasy creature

[automeris-io-moth]

I met you before

Her parents had sent her to die. 

Her face was warm too, growing warmer before disseminating in coldness as the breeze brushed against. 

The other stood frozen for a second. 

“Where’s the microphone, Hero?” 

The name she stupidly thought was clever made her cringe each time their lips said it. It was stupid and nothing but a mockery could be made of it. 

She tilted her head to the left pocket of the upper part of her neck, right next to the neck. Her body shuddered as the hand opened the button, her eyes blurred as they smashed it in her hand. 

God how her jaw ached from her clenching teeth. 

“Well then, Hero” 

“[Civilian Name].” she spat. 

Their eyes opened wider “What did you say?” 

“[Civilian Name], name’s [Civilian Name] I…” the cough dissolved inside her throat, yet she spat still to the side “It was stupid, Hero was an stupid idea.” 

Villain’s heart skipped a beat. 

“[Civilian Name]?” they cleared their throat “Why would you go against me? You are clearly underprepared.”

“I didn’t choose.” 

“Adds up.”

Towering yet bigger the shadow grew, as the other, the opponent, the villain her parents would tell her to call, kneeled beside her, hands ghosting intimidatingly close to actually touching her skin. Bruised, bloody, aching skin. 

They circled the area, lifting slightly up the piece of ragged fabric once called a shirt from the oozing wound, buffing out as if hurt when the girl shivered under her touch. [Civilian Name] did too, upset, to the very least, for not being able to keep the complaints down and swallow them along with the urge to weep, to at least no give them the satisfaction of acting hurt, even when the blood pooled around her and her fingertips were growing cold. 

The air was short in her lungs.

“I’ll take off the mask.” 

Villain, antagonist, the other, the rival spoke too softly to match the demeanor, the gloomy more blurry than clear ambience [Civilian Name] was perceiving from the floor would not match the gentleness of the other’s hands brushing her hair to the side to grab on the bands strapping the object to her face. The girl shook her head side to side, trying to get the hands off her head, to not allow it to be unbuckled. 

Yet if she died on the cold floor of an abandoned factory, they would take it off either way. 

Her head fell to the floor slowly, cradled behind by another’s hand. 

The soldier gave one shaky breath, and they pulled it off. 

“[Civilian Name].” 

But the voice was different this time. 

“You’re bleeding out,” 

Clearly. 

“They are right outside, this should be fine, this must be fine, okay?” 

Probably not 

Her tongue weighed too much to lift it, and her head spinned too harshly to make a word. And she knew one thing only. 

It was cold. 

***

The room smelled of disinfectant, clean white light made the only distinction between wherever she laid, and the old bathroom stall of a gas station convenience store. The lights were painted in an ashy kind of brown, as in her father’s old studio back at the hills, tainted in a light yellow undertone. Then, she concluded, it could not be the hospital, and it could not be the medical wing in her parent’s work. No doctor, for as cruel or careless as they appeared, was inept enough to smoke enough to taint inside a clinic room, less even their own. 

That was a stupid thought, she said to herself, her head would make them in train, one after the other as it tried to set itself in the place and the moment [Civilian Name] was founding herself into, counting aimlessly the cracks and lumps up in the popcorn ceiling looking to dissipate the fuzziness she still felt, the usual sensation of being barely woken up, known and common, still, that time, it felt heavier, harder to break off of.

Warm fingers settled over her freezing skin, holding her right arm carefully, thumb caressing over her skin steadily, almost mechanically. 

Until it stopped. 

“Hey love, you can go back to sleep,” the voice said, “the doctors still have to stitch you up.” 

Stitch her up. 

Those words she recognized. 

Spine bent over backwards to sit herself up, leaning against nothing but the thin pillows lifting her up by under and around her hips. There were two medics inside the room, and a young-looking man beside the metallic table, probably, she thought, a nurse. They were all too  many (and doubtlessly too skilled) for her to take down in any normal circumstances, yet then with aching ribs and bleeding spots scattered from place to place, it was all too fatally absurd. 

Blinding pain shot from her side, white and hot made her eyes physically blurry out in tears. 

Someone pushed her back firmly, adjusting the pillows to lay her back half-sitting “Don’t move like that, you’re gonna hurt yourself more.”

The warmth of the hand moved from her shoulder to her arm, steady motions again with her fingers over skin. Another hand travelled to her face, cupping the side of her cheek for a second before moving upwards to touch her forehead gently. 

“The fever hasn’t yet come down.” 

“Give it some minutes to settle,” another voice said calmly, as if trying to sooth whatever unease the one touching her face had, with the metallic sounds keeping on cracking against the table “but we need to start now, the wounds are already disinfected and they might get contaminated.” 

Ominous, her hands were then held both in between the other’s fingers, gentle yet firm enough to not allow her to slip beneath them.

“Another dose of anaesthesia,” the person ordered.

[Civilian Name] pulled harder against the restraint, heart pounding a little louder, a little harder, the monitor's ring accelerating along. 

“Can’t, we already went a bit overboard, it might be dangerous.” 

“Everything is ready, Villain, we need to begin.” another voice, a man this time, interrupted “Just waiting for your approval.” 

The girl shook her head harshly to the sides, breathing pitching, and hands looking for something to grab.

A hoodie she grabbed, and pulled. 

“I don’t want to, I don’t.” 

Hands guided her down, kindly down, understandingly down, mockingly down too, that felt certain, [Civilian Name] then thought, as if something as cruel as the enemy could be was capable of such. Thumbs still rubbing her forearms, her hands, and sounds, weird breathy sounds, as if blowing off a candle.

“We have to get the stitches done, nod please if you understand.” 

A shake of the head. 

“She’s never been one for needles,” the person scoffed. “That's why I told you to make sure the anaesthesia would last.” 

“Be patient, child,” another voice, older and raspier than the rest, intervened. “she’s built a resistance to anaesthetics, you can see it on the charts, the dosage was in the higher ends, we even went up by a couple units.”

Cold air entered through an open window somewhere, prickling against her skin the hairs of her arms stood straight by the chill, only yielding under the touch of the one cradling her hands. They, the enemy, whoever that was, was warm, and guilt crawled up her skin as she found some comfort in the fuzzy state her head was left made into. 

“And how in hell has she built such a thing?” the hands tightened their grip shortly, and [Civilian Name]’s eyes searched for the one holding her so familiarly, but her mind has still too lethargic to grasp the whole scene, they said whatever drugs they gave her weren’t working yet her mind would not finish a thought before wandering away in an urge not to sleep but to fall unconscious, and she tried to speak, yet her throat ate her words and left only a whimper out “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry but they really need to start now, all right? It can get worse if we wait.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Come on, grab my hands, okay? You can squeeze them as hard as you can, you won’t hurt me.” 

“Please…” 

Worthless.

How do you let us down when we already expect so little of you? 

They sat on the bed before her, blocking whatever view she still got from the medics, leaning in to face her.

And their eyes were familiar, from somewhere she was sure. 

“You can start.” they said, barely more than a whisper, and [Civilian Name] thrashed, as much as her sluggishness would allow, and those eyes darted back to her “Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t move, they're gonna hold down your legs so you don’t hurt yourself. I’m sorry, I really really am but we need to do this. They already did most of it, five stitches in the side of your abdomen, no surprises, I promise.”

The cold metal needle touched her skin and she flinched. But whoever’s grip held down her legs, was unyielding. 

And the needle pierced her skin. 

“Villain…” the scream faded halfway, leaving her lungs as an unintended breath.  

The other’s eyes widened. 

_

Masterlist

This is a little snippet from one of my longer works, the characters do have names in the original things but I adapted it, I really liked this scene so I wanted to share it.

Some disclaimers becasuse I know it's the whole thing: this is a wlw childhood friends to enemies to lovers, and I don't do physical descriptors normally when using Villain and Heros instead of names, so people can imagine whatever they like best, but perhaps I missed one or two here cause these were supossed to be set characters with established looks, sorry about that if it happened)

Hope you like it :)

#hero x villain #hero/villain #heroes and villains #hero and villain #villain x hero #villain/hero #villains and heroes #villain and hero #hurt hero #naive hero #caretaker whumper #even when she did the damage #she just didn't know who Hero was #my writing #creative writing #short story #writing wip #hero #wips #writing snippet #wlw #wlw writing #lesbian writing #lgbt writing

[chrispy-chimkin]

Pleassse I am in desperate need of some hc’s abt your Lu wing au. I’m obsessed.

Hoooo boy okay then you asked for it.

Time

Silent flight and heightened senses; he spooks the others cause they can never hear them coming.

Grip strength of ~300 psi.

His feathers are often ragged and dirty because they drag his wings on the ground.

Broods over everyone, but mostly Twilight.

His laugh sounds like an owl. "Hoo hoo hoo!"

Has a terrible sleep schedule, it's a debate whether they sleep at all.

Twilight

Didn't learn to fly till he was 18.

Broods over Wild more than anyone.

The mother hen of the group.

Vocal stims!

Has trading sessions with the other corvid of the group, Legend.

Loves to collect insects; the only item he really hoards, the rest he makes into tools or something else useful.

Master of mimicry and has animal calls down to a science.

His voice is not his own.

Warriors

The fastest flier of the group.

Hates dawdling and is constantly moving.

Prefers high places, he would rather sleep in a tree than anywhere near the ground.

Totally okay with the little guys riding on him.

He can appear brash and harsh due to falcons having a solitary nature; acting as a captain, you sometimes have to put business over personal matters.

Very protective over Time and Wind specifically.

Sky

The slowest flier of the group, but the strongest.

Sky always bows to the others before he asks a question or starts a conversation, even if it is just a long nod, and he tends to expect the same because of his culture.

Happy to snuggle and comfort anyone.

However, he is VERY easy to piss off and you don't want him mad.

Absolutely brutal in battle.

Asthma and breathing issues in lower altitudes.

Can sleep while in flight.

Wild

Can withstand temperatures of up to 3000°F. He is always radiating heat.

Wings can ignite with blue fire.

Heals faster than normal.

Glad to join Warriors in acrobatics and stunts; but he is far more reckless.

The worst preener in the group.

Will sometimes participate in Twi and Leg’s trading sessions, mostly if it seems like there is something he might like and he had endless inventory so his options are vast

Likes to chew on bones and will even consume bones; he eats everything really.

Commonly sleeps with his eyes open; he mostly does this in a manner that will piss someone off like when Twilight scolds him.

Hyrule

Rarely bathes and mostly rolls in sand.

Tries to eat bees even though he is allergic.

Feathers are fragile from malnutrition and it is easy for him to get sick.

You cannot find him unless he wants to be found.

Hides under other peoples' wings and snuggles a lot; one could almost call him clingy.

Does become on edge about the raptors of the group often.

Legend

Shamelessly steals food, mostly from Warriors.

Broods over Hyrule.

Hoarder.

Screeches or screams in your face if you spook him.

He will mostly apologize or show affection in the form of "gifts"; if he got in a bad fight with Warriors for example he might give him a coin or a river stone as a way of apologizing because his items are valuable to him.

Afraid of Sky after bad first introductions.

Only lets Twilight and Hyrule preen him.

Never goes outside let alone attempts to fly when it rains.

Wind

Webbed hands and feet.

Can drink seawater.

Prankster.

Very impressionable, he will watch and impersonate others but will not admit to it.

He likes to ride on Time's back the most; the second is Twilight because he likes his mimicry and Warriors the third only because he likes to ride Warriors for stunts rather than travel convenience.

Not the best flier over land because he grew up on the ocean.

Dives a lot in the way he watched Tetra do it, he will collect shells and other trinkets if he can get deep enough.

Four

Always eating or chewing on something; has at least two pouches dedicated to just food.

Fidgets a lot.

Likes to absentmindedly preen others to keep their hands busy.

Usually quiet; They can speak at a frequency the others cannot hear if they want to; mostly to talk to Minish if they see any.

Feathers have horrible insulation, they tend to huddle under the wings of others for warmth. They especially do this with Sky and Time, and sometimes Wild but they don’t usually trust him.

Can be very sensitive to the environment around them; their sense will pick up on things way before the others may realize what's wrong.

VERY territorial and aggressive about food; they don't mean it, but they are always hungry to some extent.

#lu wing au #feathers of courage #linked universe #the legend of zelda #my art #a wise old owl #quoth the country raven #a dramatic fucking parrot #the crimson angel #rise of the phoenix #bee eating bee bad for bee eater boy #magpies and mischief #baby beach chicken #a feral hummer #do with this info what you will ;) #hope that satisfies the cravings for a while

[cemeterything]

!!

Name: Jude

Pronouns: She/Her

Appearance: Tall; wavy blonde shoulder length hair; deceptively soft but powerful figure; wide, round, slightly 'crazy' dark brown eyes; callused hands with knuckle scars and ragged fingernails she tries to hide with bitten, chipped polish; a general air of precarious togetherness, like a jenga tower tilting on a single support beam.

Jude is one of my ocs for a noir thriller concept based in the universe of the film Inception. She's the 'femme fatale' character, though that's a front she puts up and not remotely close to her true nature.

Jude is the only child of a freelance dream thief who, despite his skill in the field, eventually failed one of his employers and was disposed of by having his apartment broken into, being viciously beaten in front of his teenage daughter, and dragged away once he fell unconscious. Jude never saw him again; although she's pretty convinced he's dead, she still secretly harbors hope that she might find him again and clings to this.

Jude (whose real name isn't Jude - Jude is a code name she uses within the dream to avoid being compromised in reality) was being taught by her dad how to navigate and steal from people's dreams. When the enforcers hired by the corporation to deal with her father discovered her, they took Jude to their employers to decide what to do with her. Jude's father's employer, in a surprising show of sentimentality, decided to take Jude under his wing and have her be taught by his best and brightest. It was a poisoned 'gift', however - Jude grew up knowing that her father's fate could be her own if she failed the people who had taken her in, and that she had no other options due to her father's criminal status, the power and influence of her employer, and that her employment was more to spite her father's memory by binding her loyalty to the same people who took his life from him.

Jude has learned how to conduct herself in dreams in order to minimize the dreamer's subconscious' awareness of their subconscious being invaded, using all of her assets both mental and physical to persuade people to give her key information that will help the extractors (including she herself) steal what they came for. She appears very professional and projects a cool, unflappable persona, but it's a thin and fragile veneer that is easily shattered if things don't go according to plan. The 'real' Jude is a frightened, neurotic young woman who is desperate for attention in any form due to her traumatic childhood and lack of meaningful relationships in reality. She's self aware enough to know that she can't afford to show people how insecure and terrified she actually is, but struggles to mask it, choosing to lean into people's expectations by playing into a persona that also functions as a coping mechanism. She can have attention without true vulnerability, connection without any hope of reciprocation.

The only person who can easily see through Jude is another oc, November, who Jude is intrigued by and secretly fond of despite how passionate rivals they are in the field, but who she's afraid to get close to in case she places Nova in danger or she herself is compromised due to their conflicting allegiances.

#ask game #oc ask game #sorry these are taking a million years due to my agonies (adult with a job)

[gracebethartacc]

I’ve been seeing ppl when making their HMS designs usually point out design details and I didn’t initially do that w mine when I posted them so uh better late than never ig!

Gonna repost the designs here just for reference: 

Ok on to the notes!:

Heart: 

-circles/round shapes 

-fluffy/poofy hair 

-more casual/comfy clothes (almost like a pajama look?) 

-black as a accent color to act as a call back to that originally being his color 

-lots of heart shapes (the sides of his shoes, shoe laces being loopy rather than the X shape I usually do to make a heart style shape, the tie on his sweatpants etc etc)

-stitches/rag doll aesthetic (nod to the “tore me at the seams” line, also just because I personally associate stitches with hearts?? No reason idk just an unconscious thing ? Maybe it can be seen as a foil to mind being robotic and heart being “soft”? Idk there’s definitely symbolism to it I’m just too stupid to articulate it sorry lol 

-blindfold is expressive/works as an emoter/has sonic eyes logic, just bc I think it’s really fun to draw, he can be cartoony, as a treat.

-eyes start like the others (white w black/dark iris) but after going blind the colors inverse (black with white iris) (OMG LIKE IN FNAF!???!?🤯)

-purple heart shaped pupils 

-wings optional I’m still debating on them BUT I’m definitely making it be so him and mind get a angel and devil on the shoulder theme (plus the added thing about heart playing the victim “perfect little angel who can do no wrong” and how he vilifies and (quite literally in this case) demonizes Mind) 

-bleed from chest

Mind:

-square shapes

-hair slicked back rather than in his face like the others

-collared shirt under sweater to give a more presentable vibe

-platform boots to make him taller/give him the superiority complex (plus they look cool that too lol) 

-necklace is a brain because …you know…. mind (made my designs before the Q&A revealed what the necklace actually was, so jus’ took creative liberty, plus so him being the representation of the mind was more visually shown considering how heavily I plastered hearts and eyes on Heart and Soul lol (I’m just gonna say the irl/drum stick necklace can be part of my CJ/Whole design instead)) 

-YOU UNDERSTAND MECHANICAL HANDS ARE THE RULER OF EVERYTHING ok but seriously: robotic design just in general, I really like his split on the top head I’m proud of that idea lol (actually if it’s not obvious but I tried to give all of them some form of… something going on with their faces!! So hearts stitches minds bolts and souls half and half you get it) 

-blue square pupils, it’s hard to make out unless you zoom in but I give him android style eyes (those lines going from the corners of his pupil to his iris, kinda like how portal does it?? I don’t remember oof but that almost like— camera zooming in kind of look? That, I was going for that)) 

-like heart, his old color (white) acts as an accent color 

-would have bat wings as previously mentioned to insinuate demon motif 

-bleed from head

Soul:

-triangles/sharp/pointed shapes 

-combo of both half and half and gray colors 

-almost like?? Punk style clothing? 

-patches on jacket (a crown, upside down cross, eye, eclipse, trident, and heart respectively) (the cross was semi a nod to hokum all ye faithful just bc I like that cover a lot personally lol) 

-messier hair

-halo intended to resemble rope/noose but idk how obvious I made it idk ??

-shadow half of face to reference the CCCC cover art and their appearance in light/night 

-the extra eyes are optional/at will 

-more a lore thing but I HC the “shadowy form” was originally an at will thing when he became mad, but after some particularly bad day it ends up getting stuck like that

-gets a more biblically accurate angle style appearance (eye motif/body horror/halo etc) Soul is the god to Heart and Minds shoulder angel and devil if you get what I mean (both to nod to the general concept of the soul being rooted heavily in religion as well as two wuv and the soul electric) 

-red ring shaped pupil to insinuate a halo shape

-half and half wings 

-bleed from eye (eyes are the windows to the soul/angle motif/soul always watching and having to keep an eye on H&M) 

Whole: 

Wasn’t going to mention him considering I literally just… drew Chonny from TMR and that’s it lmao?? But eh might as well mention him while I’m here

-regular shaped pupils (static colored)

-tally hall color nail polish (nod to the CCCC cover art)

-hair is more naturally drawn rather than stylized/shaped 

-white sweater to act as an inverse to HMS all having black/dark colored sweaters

-similar shoes to Heart, half and half jacket to match Soul, necklace to match Mind (not in ref but will be added later probably)

Extra/general stuff/small details:

-Their hair frizz bits are all matching their previously mentioned shape language (and lack there of in Whole’s case)

-eyes:

-the before (haha get it) they fully formed/gained consciousness designs keep to same general shape language idea, and gray specifically has a mouth as a nod to how Soul was the first one properly shown/we were shown their lips while the other two still were kept as the white and black heads for a bit before they inevitably got shown properly in TME

-the pre night/light designs I also don’t really feel the need to mention just bc they are pretty straight forward n snagged from TME/just their regular designs but missing the added layers n jackets n stuff ? Plus ig the added detail they are much more humanoid at the start I think is neat :3

uhhhh ig that’s it ?? Yeah sorry idk how to end this post just wanted an excuse to talk about my designs lol 

#chonny jash #cccc #mind cj #heart cj #cj heart #soul cj #cj soul #cj mind #heart chonny jash #soul chonny jash #mind chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny’s charming chaos compendium

[writtenwyrm]

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire Story, Part 35

All Parts

Bargaining

I coughed, wet and sickly, and a lump of flesh spattered out onto the ground. It squirmed and stood up, two stubby feet supporting a blue, fleshy, toothy mouth. The monster wobbled for a minute and shook itself, spattering dark liquid all over. Then it hopped off into the darkness, leaving me alone in my corner once again.

There were spatters of muck all over me from the ugly little beast, and my feathers were disheveled and out of place. I resisted the urge to preen, however. The patches of empty skin were a grim reminder of what happened when I pulled too hard.

“What have you done?”

My Chosen. I glanced up, seeing them in the doorway. So small, compared to me, and yet so important. The leader of my entire church.

I didn’t want to say it. But I had to say something. Silence was worse than the truth, which was only occasionally worse than a lie. “I’m stuck.”

They stepped forward into the room, commanding just as much space as I did, looking around at my decorated sleeping chamber as if something in here might be the cause of my appearance. “Don’t give me that. You have total control over your shape. If you’re losing your feathers, it’s because you want to be useless. Are you really so selfish?”

I flinched, reminded of the people that depended on me. The people who needed my body to be healed. “No! No, I want to help them, I do!”

“Then stop being belligerent and take your true form again.”

I stared down at my Chosen, helpless to explain how hard I’d tried. I’d tried until I could hardly even breathe, until…

Well, I doubted it would go well if they saw the tiny, repulsive creatures I was coughing up.

I only had one idea. And I had to present it correctly, or… “Maybe… maybe I should go back. To the others. They might… they might know what’s wrong with me.”

I immediately knew I’d said it wrong. Something about the way they shifted under their cloak told me that the conversation was over.

“No. You are not like them. They are old, and you are new. You are something special… if you allow yourself to be. Now, I have delegates from the Gremlin Leader I must speak to.” They paced back toward the door, arms folded behind them. The slight edge of disgust told me what they thought of that. Then the tone turned toward me. “I’ll be back. I expect to see you back to normal when I return, but if you are not… well, you may still be of use, even in that sorry shape.”

The thought horrified me. What could they possibly find useful on me now? The thought of my ragged, dirty feathers going into elixirs for the sickly was disgusting. Surely they couldn’t hold the same power that they usually did.

Could they?

Alone again, I paced my room. The sound of my thundering heart in my ears drowned out everything else. Which was good, since the sound of my talons on the ground had been replaced with a slap-flap of meaty feet, and I didn’t want to hear that.

A sudden urge struck me to be in the sky. I had to fly again. How long had it been since I’d felt the wind under my wings? That I’d looked over the land from so far up that I couldn’t even see the individual trees?

Too long. Maybe some time in the air would help me return to normal. They wouldn’t understand, but I needed this.

So I didn’t tell them. Instead, I snuck through the rough-hewn corridors of the palace, searching for my window. The hole in the side of the Spire that was large enough to let me be free, on occasion.

I found it.

Bleakly, I stared at the boards nailed over it.

Had they done this? Why? They’d never forbidden me from flying, only hinted that there were better things to do with my time. And yet…

No. No, I needed out. I needed to fly. They would just have to understand.

I still wasn’t going to ask permission. No, I would beg forgiveness later. For now, I went to work with what was left of my beak.

It hurt, tearing the boards out. It hurt worse to give up the beak and grow a set of uneven teeth, moving further away from my intended shape. But the teeth worked better, and soon I could feel sunlight again.

I stood in the opening, basking in the warm sun. It calmed me, and I could feel my panic receding. This wasn’t the end of the world. I could figure this out, I’d be back in my normal form in no time. All I needed was a little time flying, first.

I leapt, stretching out my wings.

And then I fell like a rock.

At first, I was simply confused. I reached out, trying to cup the familiar sky with my wings and rise, and instead it flew past me, tearing feathers off with it in a vengeful flurry.

That’s when the panic returned.

I flapped, frantically, losing height with every second. I couldn’t fly, I couldn’t fly.

The last feathers still clinging to my stubby wings finally came free, leaving me naked and alone.

I plummeted.

The air whistled past, louder and louder, tearing off any remnants of my plumage and sending them scattered to the wind. No, no, I have to change. I have to get my feathers back.

Concentrating was difficult as I tumbled, but I closed my eyes, focusing on the familiar shape that I knew so well, the shape I’d been born as. Sapphire wings, powerful, all-encompassing. Muscles that beat and grasped the air, propelling me wherever I wanted to go.

The knife, approaching my face, wavering near my eye.

I screamed, flinching away from the image and losing my concentration immediately. The power I’d gathered bunched itself in my bones, looking for an escape, needing to be used. Uncontrolled, it surged through me, warping me, twisting my wings inward on myself. I felt my bones crunch in unnatural ways as my body searched instinctively for a form that would allow me to withstand a spire-long fall. A form, any form that could survive.

When I opened my eyes, the world was racing up to greet me

I hit the ground.

Everything shattered.

—

[QUERY] WAKE UP

[ANALYSIS] SYSTEM REST TIME is 98% COMPLETE

[ANALYSIS] SUFFICIENT REST ATTAINED. BEGINNING BOOT SEQUENCE

Slowly, the process of bootstrapping back into full functionality began. The body lifted itself to its feet, calculating each movement with careful precision.

[QUERY] FASTER

[ERROR] NOT a QUERY

[ACTION] ANALYZE PATH

[ANALYSIS] Path upward has average diameter of 4.5 meters rising at 3.2 degree slope. Stone walls depict tentacles and whorls along with standard bones and body parts.

[ANALYSIS] SAFE and EFFICIENT

[QUERY] NOT SAFE

[ANALYSIS] NO ACTIVE DANGER DETECTED

[QUERY] IDIOT

The body began to walk, resuming the trek back up toward the Beyond. It was within two days' journey of its goal. The journey still had a 2.7% chance of failure, but that was within reasonable parameters—

The stone tentacles whipped out, wrapping around the limbs of the body and holding firm.

[ANALYSIS] DANGER

[QUERY] <.blankquery>

[ACTION] BEGIN BATTLE RESOLUTION

[ACTION] BATTLE BOOT SEQUENCE

[ACTION] ACTIVATE HEATSINKS

[ACTION] SYNC SYMBIOITE

The body whirred into a flurry of individual motions, while the whole frame remained still. Armor plating slid into place, vents and pipes extended from the limbs, and the fingers flicked into sharpened claws.

The fusion battery hummed into life, and a space in the air was torn open, allowing a drop of pure plasma to form. It was linked with the body, feeding a cycle of energy in and out of the core. There was leakage with the core damaged as it was, but it was manageable, even useful, lightning sparking through the air to join the plasma in its orbit.

Finally, the body siphoned power from the virus that had taken up residence within it. A third rent opened in the air, filling with purple-tinged shadow that made no noise at all.

None of that stopped the tentacles from tightening their grip.

[ANALYSIS] DANGER on ALL SIDES

[ACTION] SWEEPING BEAM

The large lense lit up, and a sharp light shot forth, arcing across the room and carving a line through the walls. But the restraints kept the beam from doing any real damage to the powerful tentacles rising from the floor.

[ACTION] ELECTRODYNAMICS

Lightning sparked, orbs flickering into being and filling the open spaces that the Runic Capacitor automatically created. Thunder cracked as bolts struck out, all of them focused on a single enormous tentacle.

[QUERY] FAILURE of ELECTRODYNAMICS

[ANALYSIS] Enemy tentacle acts as a lightning rod, protecting the mass.

[QUERY] DO BETTER NEXT TIME

[ERROR] NOT A QUERY

The tentacle attacked.

Bronze screeched and connections twisted as it pounded down on the body, bending the frame despite its reinforcements. The right arm was dented heavily, and a few flakes of crystal fell from the already-cracked core.

Again and again, the destruction of the body had come to pass. Two-hundred and thirteen times, the body had rebooted at the base of the Spire, miles from its destination, and yet whole. Somewhat.

And yet one thing had not changed in all that time.

I didn’t want to die.

I struck. Through the channel the virus had made between me and the body, the one it used to siphon the void. Through that weakness I pushed, attempting to make a connection, all while throwing as many queries as possible toward the body.

[QUERY] IS THIS SENTENCE FALSE

[QUERY] HOW MUCH SPHERE COULD A SPHERIC GUARDIAN GUARD IF A SPHERIC GUARDIAN COULD GUARD SPHERE

[QUERY] IS CLAW GOOD HERE

A slurry of nonsensical questions, attempting to distract and disorient the body, keep it on edge. That was dangerous when it was already in the process of being crushed, but the danger was a part of the plan, something to keep it from shutting me down immediately.

[ANALYSIS] USE of CLAW

[ERROR] CLAW is INEFFICIENT

[ANALYSIS] GUARDING of SPHERE

[ERROR] DEFINE SPHERE

[ANALYSIS] SENTENCE is FALSE

[ERROR] SENTENCE IS TRUE

[ERROR] SENTENCE IS FALSE

[ERROR] ERROR

Suddenly, I broke through.

My sensory scope expanded into the body, and all of a sudden it was mine again. I flexed my fingers, the sensation of innumerable commands of code and calculation so fluid and simple, run by subsystems of hand and arm so I didn’t need to take time thinking about each twitch of my thumb.

But the autopilot was still here, attempting to reassert control, so I began to create new systems.

It was the great strength of sentients. The power to condense, repeat, offload thinking and acting to subsystems running under the main mind. The same ability that allowed me to think of picking up a crystal, and for my body to follow through with a thousand tiny motions to move my arm, stretch my fingers, squeeze the edges of the object and raise it into the air. The creatures of flesh and bone that lived in the great city below were more like me than they ever suspected. Both I and them ran systems of repetition and habit and instinct, no matter that they ran on hardware of flesh and blood and I on crystal and bronze. Truly, we all carried lightning in our cores.

I held two great advantages.

One, as a Divine Machine, I had a greater connection with the Beyond. I understood it on a level that few mortals did, and could even draw on its power if required. The false made real, and faith made blades.

Two, I could reach into myself and edit.

My focus was split on two turfs. Inner, as my autopilot fought to remove what it saw as a rogue force, and outer, as the tentacle continued to squeeze me into scrap. My lenses focused in and out wildly as my autopilot found a loose end and attempted to zoom my vision, making it harder to keep track of the tentacles. It was time to even the odds.

[QUERY] ENERGY FOR OPTIMAL STRATEGY

[ANALYSIS] POWER at 73% MAXIMUM

[ANALYSIS] SUFFICIENT

[ACTION] DOUBLE ENERGY

[ACTION] SKIM

My core flared, the temporary boost giving me the power to search quickly through my many, many systems, searching for the one that was just a little different…

There.

[COMMAND] REPEAT

[ERROR] REPEAT NOT DEFINED

[DEFINE] REPEAT

[REPEAT]

to happen again

[FUNCTION] REPEAT INITIAL ACTION

[FUNCTION] OFFLOAD REPETITION TO AUTOMATIC SUBDRIVES

[ACTION] ECHO FORM

A figure appeared, overlapping my own form. When I moved, it followed, sharp-edged and transparent.

Now it was fair.

Time to make it unfair. In my favor.

I hunkered down in my body as the tentacles tightened on my limbs. Now that I had settled into an equilibrium, however, it was much easier to resist their monstrous strength. Digging deep, I was pleased to find that the algorithm I’d planted near the beginning of this iteration had grown into a formidable, adaptive defense program, so I threw that up too, allowing the program to adjust my limbs on a millimeter scale, maximizing the force I could withstand.

With all that together, I was prepared when the tentacle slammed down again, attempting to swat me like a fly.

[ACTION] BLOCK

One arm flew up, meeting the tentacle in the middle with enough momentum to deaden the attack, precisely calculated by programs I wasn’t even consciously aware of to prevent recoil damage to my arm.

Moments after the impact, my feet swiveled like wild louses, nearly throwing me off balance. The attempts of my autopilot to reassert control were too pressing to ignore any longer. I reached inside and focused, looking for the Rift.

I found it easily. Like a chasm, it opened a void in my mind, a great, unidentifiable gap of corrupted memories and loose code. In my mind, it felt like a manifestation of the true rift–the crack in my core.

The Autopilot sat on the other side of that rift, where I’d been living up until now. The channel I’d used was still open, and it was frantically attempting to snatch control of anything left unattended.

Carefully, I reached out and grabbed a few loose ends of code. Fragments of memory ran through my core as I mentally touched them, images of enemies I’d fought, locations I’d seen. Nothing I could remember clearly, but close enough that I was able to put them together like puzzle pieces.

[ACTION] DEFRAGMENT

My Echo followed moments behind, grabbing more memories and placing them in appropriate places. If it had been just an imitation of myself, it would have attempted to repeat my actions exactly, and been useless. But the touch of the Beyond gave it a spark of true life and the capacity to follow my intent, not just what I did.

As the pieces fell into place, it sealed my Autopilot away on the other side of the Rift. Now that it was taking up less of my focus and power, I could afford to give more to the multiple orbs that orbited around me. My processing cooled as I calmed down, panic turning into confidence as my strength grew. Ice crept over my core as the inner machinations of my core were made manifest in a more literal sense. In a few past iterations I’d let my core freeze over entirely, but the benefits would be minimal here. Instead, I used the ice, shoving it into a slot for use as more protection.

I was out of slots, so the plasma flashed and expended the rest of its energy in a burst as the ice replaced it. I captured the excess energy and pulled it in, using it to charge my core. It overcharged my battery, and I could feel myself crackling with power waiting to be used.

[COMMAND] REPEAT

[ACTION] HOLOGRAM

And then I did it again, a flickering double–not dissimilar to my Echo Form–using the rest of my energy to shove even more power into my core battery. The overflow snapped with static, warding off the next tentative blow from my enemy.

This time, I curled my fingers into a fist, and punched back.

[ACTION] COMPILE DRIVER

A moment later my translucent copy did the same, driving the enemy back and giving myself space to act.

The shadow orb had been drawing power this entire time, but it was slow going, even with the increased power afforded to it. As it was, it would hardly put a dent in the creature before me.

Of course, nothing said I only had to use it once.

[COMMAND] REPEAT

[ACTION] MULTICAST

I copied the active state of the void orb, then lobbed it through the air at the stony tentacle. Where it touched, it left nothing behind, passing through the flesh of the creature like an eraser.

Then I pasted the active state and threw the orb again.

And again.

And again.

By the time I was out of energy, the spire growth was a twitching mass that contained just as many holes as it did flesh. The tentacles around my body fell limp, allowing me to move freely again.

[QUERY] STATUS of ENEMY

[ANALYSIS] Major connectors severed, motion ceasing, profuse fluid leakage.

[ANALYSIS] DEAD

[ACTION] BATTLE MODE OFF

I welcomed the clone back inside, absorbed the data from the fight, and then deleted it. There was a pang of uncertainty from us both about that last part, but I couldn’t carry it around with me forever, straining my core.

It would be back. Not the same copy, not the same me. But it always came back. And I wouldn’t keep it trapped in my core while I controlled the body. I had too many memories of that, and often I wondered if it would be better to cease to exist than continue to experience it. My copy, at least, didn’t have to wonder.

Bound to just thinking, watching my body act on its own. Wanting, wishing, and yet unable to even do something as simple as reach out my hand.

Now that my autopilot was locked away, I could keep it there indefinitely.

Except… I wouldn’t.

I knew I wouldn’t, because I had let it free in the first place. Again and again, I had broken through, reasserted control.

Again and again, I had grown weary.

It always started small. Allowing the autopilot through to take command of my walking on long journeys, or giving it control enough to purge a louse infestation when I couldn’t be bothered. But it would grow, and grow, and I would use it for every little thing, lighting fires, fighting monsters, arranging relics.

By the time I realized I couldn’t take back control, it was too late. And more often than not, I didn’t care. It was simpler, letting it walk for me, live for me.

Easier.

My entire life was built around repetition and recursion. From the smallest of actions to the hundreds of iterations I had lived through.

Perhaps this time, I had the opportunity to change that. My situation was rare, even among the many times I had been recreated to ascend the Spire. I couldn’t remove my autopilot, it was too tied up with the foundations of my body and mind, and attempting to delete that would be like removing a mortal’s nervous system.

But perhaps I could purge the habits that brought me back to it again and again.

Once again, I reached inside and searched. Now that I was free, I could take my time, and I searched until I found the connections that I was searching for. There was just one problem.

It was a part of me, and it didn’t want to be purged.

It’s pointless. The piece whispered to me. You’ll never make meaningful change, not for long. It’ll all be back next time we die. You can’t be rid of me, because I’m you.

I chased the recursive commands through my system, isolating one chunk of my mind at a time to corner it, quarantining the corrupting code in smaller and smaller spaces until finally—

The virus would serve one more purpose today. While I was in control, the malicious entity was barely a hassle to manipulate. Compared to my sophisticated systems, it was hardly more than a spider before the boot.

But instead of squashing it, I cracked it open, and allowed my darkness to flow into it. Then I sealed it up again.

Normally, that would have been the best I could have done. The caged code wasn’t so much physical as metaphorical, and it would remain locked in the back of my mind until it found a way to break free, as it always did.

But here in the Beyond, metaphor was as strong as steel.

I held out my hands, willing the virus to appear in my cupped claws. It flickered into being, dark, warping the space around it.

[ACTION] SUNDER

It fell away from me, torn free. Given physical shape, the virus coalesced into a smaller, shaper, more familiar form. A blue arrowhead. A key.

[QUERY] NEAREST RECEPTACLE

[ANALYSIS] ABANDONED CHEST 103 PACES NORTHEAST

I placed my darkness within the chest, and then closed it with a snap, sealing it away.

Perhaps it would come back. Perhaps it would grow again from the many habits I’d collected. Perhaps someday I would fall back into the darkness and allow my autopilot to take over again.

But for now, I was free. It was like a dream.

I began to wake up.

The walls shivered indistinctly around me, fading into nothingness, and the world began to collapse. Lightning sparked over my limbs, orbs channeled from the sudden fear that rose in my core. No, no, no!

I didn’t want to go back, I didn’t want to be trapped. Bound in my own body, prisoner to the whims of another. I wouldn’t go back, I wouldn’t be silenced anymore, I—

—-

I woke to someone strangling me.

I tried to scream, but only the faintest wheeze escaped. Desperate, I slammed into Wrath faster than I thought possible, and arched my body like a bucking ox in an attempt to throw my attacker free.

They matched me, strength for strength.

My staff, where was my staff? It was right next to me when I fell asleep, I had to be able to reach it. Unless they’d moved it before attacking me, unless they’d stolen it.

I tried to scrabble about my head to find it, but my hands weren’t responding. Was I tied up? How many attackers were there? My hands—

My hands were around my own throat.

I let go with a gasp, filling my lungs and letting the Wrath surge out of me in a yell of terror and confusion and anger. It left me all at once and I fell limp, feeling empty, heaving great deep breaths of the cold spire air.

“Bad dream?” An irritatingly familiar voice said, with mild sympathy.

I turned my head, and there he was. Crosslegged on his colorful rug, the Merchant grinned at me like a clown. Or at least his mask did.

“You did this to me.” I accused. The empty feeling was rapidly refilling with rage. “You gave me that prism. Did you know? How the hells did you get up here? I had all the keys!”

“I think,” he said, without answering my question, “It might be time for some explanation of what’s going on.”

That was enough reason for me to sit up and pay attention.

“But first,” The Merchant said, cheerfully, “Would you like some meatballs?” He held up the pot.

Begrudgingly, I accepted a bowl.

“It’s her.” He said as I ate. “Neow.”

I nodded, thinking back to when I woke up next to her. She had acted as if she had simply been there to greet me, or welcome me to the Spire, but thinking back… it was too perfect. She was a part of this.

“She’s an Ancient. One of the last.” He confirmed. “The Ancient of Resurrection, to be precise. Or so she calls herself. It seems no one had seen her before all… this. I woke up there too, with no memory of who I’d been before. She wanted me to… to bring someone back. Another Ancient.” A piece of gold rolled over his knuckles, and I wondered who taught him that. “I suspect it was the Phoenix. It seems as if it was much beloved, judging from its zealous worshippers. Or maybe she killed the Phoenix, and now wants to finish the job with the rest of the Spire. I don’t know.”

“Why haven’t we just… stopped? I had several people in the city offer to let me stay with them. We could leave this all behind. Why play their games?” A trickle of Wrath made its way into my voice, and I let it.

“The Time Eater. It continually attempts to reset the Spire back to what it was before the war, but it can’t return slain Ancients to life, and its power isn’t perfect. It doesn’t catch everything that happens in the Spire.”

He sighed. “They know something is wrong, but they can’t figure out what. For them, it’s as if only days have passed, and yet their grand city has fallen into ruin, and is now under the control of the slavers and gremlins. And when we remain with them… we see it happen. The Time Eater’s power doesn’t work on us. Any friends we make…”

“We have to watch them forget.” I finished.

I thought of Liss. And the the Merchant, who, despite his words, was staying behind to watch it happen again.

“Frankly, we may not even be real.” He said. “Simply… memories of warriors gone before. Or merchants, as the case may be. Memories… or dreams.”

The sudden image of a cultist in ragged feathers imposed itself on my mind, the half-mad creature lurching at me with panic in his voice.

How long will you dream?

My skin crawled with the memory of that encounter in the Exordium.

“Why?” There was more pleading in my voice than I was comfortable with, but I had to know.

He only shrugged. “She hates it. The Heart. You can feel it too, can’t you? Deep in your bones, the hatred we all carry for it? We all know it, and it pulls us upward, even if we don’t remember why.”

I did. I remembered how strong it had been in the presence of the wet, thundering ball of flesh, how much I’d wanted to destroy it. And yet, was that my hatred, or something she’d imparted on me?

“So all we have to do is kill it, and we’ll be free. She won’t have any need for us then.” I tightened my grip on my staff. I’d already seen it bleed. Now I just had to finish the job.

“No.” The Merchant was quiet. “We’ve killed it before. It’s not easy, but we’ve all managed it. Even you. It frees us for a while, and the Spire sleeps. And yet, we’re still here. Still fighting. Still dying.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes while that sank in.

I set my empty bowl down, then got to my feet and looked ahead at the dark tunnel. My path to the Heart.

“I have to try.”

The Merchant nodded, and I could hear the sad smile behind his mask. “We always do.”

#Slay The Spire #The Watcher #The Defect #The Merchant #fic #Part 35

[ximerose]

If Will didn’t look so pathetic and miserable-and if they weren’t stuck where they were- Tanner would be laughing.  Something about it is funny.  Seeing someone else, who he’d only heard about from Nico’s secondhand stories about his skill, also appear about to throw up. Did he look that bad too?  Neither of them belonged here so far from the light.  Tanner had just grown more accustomed to it.  The ever present burning in his lungs.  How his vision never cleared enough to see properly and his skin always felt like he was covered in first degree burns at best.

Constantly wondering if this moment or the next was the one that would kill him.  His wings dragged, what feathers he still had are ragged and stripped of most of the actual feather.  Only instinctive fear keeps him moving.  And the desire not to be eaten alive no matter how tired he was.  He’d stopped wandering looking for a way out some time ago.  It was much easier to hide while staying in the same place.  Calling for help, and someone actually listening, was an accident.  A mistake.  Tanner had never expected them to actually go through with it.  He wasn’t sure he would if the roles were reversed.  

Bright feverish eyes flick away from Will to try to get his bearings.  The demigod couldn’t see anything he recognized.  No rivers or landmarks to give him a remote sense of where they were.  His tongue stuck to his mouth three times every time he tried to agree, ending up with a mutual “sucks.”  At least they seemed to be left alone for now.  No incoming footsteps or hungry snarls looking for something to sink its teeth into.  “Doesn’t matter.  Don’t swallow, makes it worse.”  

@gloryseized from here

#gloryseized #tanner finally connecting the dots like ooohh! sky vs tartarus bad....yeah sorry idk why you came

[cory-laika-ghost]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

A/N: I've decided to post our story on here because I can I'll update every Friday also because I can

Echoes of fate ch1:

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

Ghost angrily stomped through the forest, trying to get the water out of their clothes, despite the beauty of the crystal trees, as Ghost was human. This wasn’t right to them, it didn’t seem right, isn’t right, Cory on the other hand didn’t care. She just wanted a soul, and since she’s a ghost, most would see her as creepy, stubborn, or stupid, she’s smart if you know her, she proudly ran through the forest, spotting Ghost.

“whom and what the hell art thou?” Ghost snapped, staring at Cory up and down, she replied with scoffing then a stupid remark “the creature of your nightmares mortal,” Ghost just stared, “now give me your soul!” Cory quickly jumped at Ghost trying to somehow tear the very soul out of them. They began to run quietly cursing at themselves and quietly praying for a chance to get back home, they were so busy overthinking this, they crashed into a small hut.

The interior looked as if it had belonged to nobody, yet it was owned by a young dog-witch! Xey came out of the hut with ragged, ripped clothing, messy bandages and hair. The young witch looked excited, clamming xeir hands into fists, shaking them, and they walked over, “Hello!” Xey smiled, looking at Ghost. “Hide me!” Ghost exclaimed as they ran behind them, Cory running up on the small bit of grass in front of the abandoned shack, she glared at the person, then behind xem at Ghost, Youu snake!” Cory exclaimed, poking the witch Whyy did you steal my prey?!..” She sounded like a cannibalistic 9 year old child, “what?” Xey seemed confused, a questionable expression plastered across xeir face. “I said, why did you steal my food?” Cory said slowly, annoyed, probably to mock xem, xey gave an awkward laugh in response, “Thy am not food!” Ghost shuffled around at the back of the hut, peering over to bite their thumb for some odd reason at Cory “kill yourself,” Cory snapped. “Well uh, anyway! I’m Laika!” they butt in, trying to lift the mood, smiling at the two, who were both gritting their teeth at one another, plotting brutal murder. “Well ‘Laika’ I think you should go drown in the river,” Cory spat at it annoyed and Ghost interrupted, biting their thumb, “thy doth not need to be a bi- bench about it..” After what felt like an eternity of fighting, which was actually about eleven minutes, Cory and Ghost seemed to be a bit more stable, no longer at each other’s throats, “well I'm leaving,” Ghost announced, beginning to walk off and to the exit of the forest, happy that they still have all their organs in their body. “Hey! You’re not leaving without giving me my fucking soul!” Cory yelled as she got out of the shack, falling on her face as she did so, before running off to find where Ghost had taken themselves. “No don't leave me!! I want to be included!” Laika yelled, following the others.

By the time Laika ran over, Cory was wrestling Ghost on the floor for the soul. “Get off me you foul beast!” Ghost tried to push Cory off, but for some reason they couldn’t, “souls first pookie wookie,” Cory replied, and Laika stood there, watching the scene like it was a movie. The three were clearly distracted, not noticing two new figures had walked over.

They both were tall and had wings, however, one was paler and her wings were purple, with hair hanging over her eyes like a wedding vale, hiding 3 eyes, and the other’s skin was rather dark with light blue braids parted slightly by horns at the top and white wings tucked behind her, beautiful women really, but were their intentions as beautiful as how they appeared?

One of them spoke brushing leaves out of their hair, “Finally.” The three of them froze up, then looked at each other slightly confused, yet they knew something was up. Ghost turned to the two ethereal beings, “What art thou?” Ghost questioned, Cory squinted, examining the two who just appeared out of nowhere, “Maybe they’re going to one of those dumb comi-con things. Explains why they look like idiots.” A nerve was hit, not surprisingly after an insult was just thrown. “No, you absolute faggots,” the purple-haired one snapped, “We’re goddesses, also Seleste is a fuckstain, so I’m sorry if she’s slow,” She finished, “oh talk about the pot calling the kettle black!” The blue-haired one, likely Seleste yelled at the other “If you were mortal I’d grab a Chihuahua and make it bite you to death,” Again, the purple-haired one made a snappy comment, and the three started to shuffle away as the gods were arguing not entirely sure what to do at the moment. “We should… like… go,” Laika whispered, yet not low enough. “Hold it right there mortals!’” Seleste pointed at them before they could get far, “We have unfinished business,” she continued. “Yeah faggots!” The purple-haired one added in, “Melanie you can't say that word anymore,” Seleste sighed in annoyance, “One, shut up, two, I’m gay. Also hi I’m Melanie, applying here to be your shitty villain who probably sells paper animals and cannabis for a living on the side of being the creator of many living things on earth and countless other universes!” She continued, which earned a judgmental look from everyone else, “Yeah… I get that a lot,” Melanie gave a fake sad face, to which Seleste rolled her eyes, “I also sell meth, feet pics, tobacco, uhm, ice, flip flops, cocaine, and onlyfans." She ignored Seleste, continuing her strange speech, “...you have kids,” Seleste side eyed her “twenty-three to be exact.” She corrected “Bedswerver” Ghost coughed under their breath. “How much is the drugs?” Laika blurted out, “what the hell,” Ghost replied to Laika’s interesting question, “what’s cocaine, meth, ice, tobacco, cannabis?” Cory quizzically asked, in which Laika replied “something that makes me so woopdiedoo silly me I forget my past!” Cory’s eyes lit up, almost like a child’s would. “Anyway!” Melanie changed the subject, looking at all three of them, “You guys need to become friends SOMEHOW,” That caught different reactions and faces, Cory looked disgusted, Ghost looked unbothered, but not happy about it, and Laika looked hopeful. “But first we gotta traumatize you even more than already!” Seleste finished for her, it looked like the soon to be trio standing in front were going to object in some way, but ended up being cut off, and put in a bubble that anchored itself to the bottom of the ocean.

#original character #original story #original work #I have no idea how Tumblr works #the title is so corny lmao #dies of cringe #woah mentally ill gay children

[connladraws]

AT LONG LAST... The stars of the show have been... REBORN! Find their old art HERE and marvel at the improvement. Go ahead. Marvel. A little longer... Okay you’re good now, thanks.

(original design; do not use without permission; reblogs > likes)

Design notes!!!

Pictured here, Ventus and Vanitas both have their “eyes” open. This is actually them opening up the heat pits they used to perceive the world to better allow the sensitive membranes within to capture “images” better. Love is blind after all

While Vanitas is Cupid and Ventus is FORMERLY Cupid, technically they are both Cherubs.

Vanitas keeps his claws out at all times, leading them to be slightly ragged and thus MORE dangerous to be struck with- as they won’t leave clean cuts.

The blade like appearance of their tails isn’t just for show. Both of them secrete a special fluid, akin to a toxin, from their tails tips. Cupid didn’t always have a bow and arrow to work magic with, to say the least.

While Ventus has horn like structures atop his head, Vanitas’ are more akin to feelers. They can move freely, curl, and wag. They tend to give away his emotional state even when he tries to control it.

The several superficial difference between Ven and Vanitas (ie: the shape of their tongues, the layout of their teeth, the shape of their wings and tails) are just that: Superficial. All Cherubs share the same basic body shape but can vary vastly in composition of wings, tail, color, ect.

Cupid is the only one to ever have such potent secretion from their tail. Those assigned the role also tend to be bigger than the average Cherub.

I’ve been sitting around kicking up dust and dirt in regards to finishing this pair but I am VERY happy to be done with them. Now I just.... need to draw all of them in their Human (Pleasantry) Forms. Woof.

#kingdom hearts #kh #kh vanitas #kh ventus #vanven #tl #tainted love #kh au #connladraws

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

I was tagged by @cxttlefishcxller! Thank you, Conniefef!

The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story if you want. But honestly, these are guidelines at best - do what you want.

My words to find: Paper, Sunset, Natural, Leather, Bookmark, Steel, Chill, Ember, Storm, Makeshift

I'm tagging: (Under the condition that you want to do this!) @astrearl, @chasm-connected and @sirenianheart if they have enough of their writings at hand to do this, @monstrousgourmandizingcats, aaand @cxttlefishcxller again if you want to do more words!

Also any writers who see this post and think it'd be fun!

Your words are: - Fly - Green - Independent - Fixated - Magical - Incoherent - Copy - Mental - Fire - Glowing

(Zira addition: If my words are too "purple prose" or specific for your style, feel free to find a synonym or excerpt that captures its mood if not its exact verbiage!)

~*~

I chose a few paragraphs for my excerpts, but I'll post Just The Sentences first, and if you want some context with a satisfying beginning and ending, you can read past the cut!

Paper: A breeze rustled the desiccated newspapers at the end of the alley, blowing in some less-stale air, and she inhaled deeply as she regathered her strength.

Sunset: Looking closer, her eyes seemed to glow with a smooth but wary light, the violet-gray of a sunset thinly veiled with incoming stormclouds.

Natural: It was only natural to thought-speak in this conducive mindscape, anyways.

Leather: And the bird herself changed. Full wings became ragged. Claws hooked the wingtips. Beak filled with knifepoint teeth, deadly, made to tear - lit by red fire of cruelty in her eyes. Feather became leather, roughhewn, scales.

Bookmark: She sighed inwardly as she lay the book aside gently, placing in the tiny paper bookmark... right next to her on the bed.

Steel: Facts, memories, details-- all things Raven knew to steel herself against when she opened herself to their ravages.

Chill: She found, her mother's memory of that glimpse was already slightly cloudy and vague... but what Dove knew was accurate to her humanity, her ethereal appearance, her chill.

Ember: Her cloak had adopted an unusual color, a faded orange, like dying embers just before they were totally extinguished.

Storm: His presence breached the storm of her powers and she coughed on a gasp and sensed him and his desperate affection so suddenly it choked her mind to stillness; the flames suddenly vanished, and Dove was left choking on the dust from the section of collapsed wall – her powers had ravaged the room.

Makeshift: A makeshift bowl wouldn’t be so hard to obtain…

~*~

Paper: (This one was hard to find for some reason. It was mentioned in a lot of the files, referring to notes written on paper, and it was used quite a few times in the emvents, but I'm not comfortable sharing those. It's not the WHOLE word, but this is from the revamp of Kary's debut.)

She sat down on the cold, unforgiving concrete and tried to breathe it all away. No, no, she couldn’t faint in the city, not around these people!

A breeze rustled the desiccated newspapers at the end of the alley, blowing in some less-stale air, and she inhaled deeply as she regathered her strength. She needed to find something to eat, and fast. Soon she’d be too weak to travel, then too weak to walk... but it hurt, this place was giving her such a headache...

Whimpering quietly, the dog nuzzled her hands and licked her across the cheek as if begging her to get up.

“Okay...” The dizziness gone, she stood warily. She had to hold her hand on the wall for balance, and to ward off the uncertainty that she couldn’t do it. She wouldn't give her body any other choice. Testing her legs again – at least they’d hold her up.

--

Sunset: (An excerpt from the Team Transition story file, describing character!Zira (who had the name before I took it for myself)...)

Looking closer, her eyes seemed to glow with a smooth but wary light, the violet-gray of a sunset thinly veiled with incoming stormclouds. He'd never seen a color like that... and her face was just barely discernible in the hood's shadow. The eyes, mouth, and areas between were visible - but the shape of her face was impossible to tell; the edges melded into the shadows too smoothly. He wondered how she got her hood to do that so perfectly.

--

Natural: (I use this word a lot, apparently. But I haven't shared any secretshipping scenes yet!)

And through her concentration, Dove was hopelessly confused when she heard HIM muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“You haven’t DONE anything...”

"I know, and that’s WHY.” Whatever he was feeling, it was strong enough to leave Dove breathless and it wouldn’t let him speak through his throat. It was only natural to thought-speak in this conducive mindscape, anyways.

"Srentha."

"I’m so sorry I can’t do anything to HELP!”

"Srentha, you're crying..."

"I want to HELP you, Dove! But I tried everything - the herbs, the magic, the memories - and none of it did you any good! You even seem worse - I feel so USELESS!"

Dove’s whirl of confusion seemed to shock the storm to silence. She felt concern so deep it ached, and deeply desperately frustrated crackles of white lightning still sparked out all around her. "No... no, Srentha, that is SO far from true..."

"But I probably only made you worse."

He blinked his wide, tear-soaked eyes, and looked into her indigo gaze so deeply it broke her heart to pieces. He was crying, and to see that usually lit-up and enthusiastic gaze so desperate and hopeless... It was like taking the stars from the night sky.

--

Leather: (From the opening of Dove's Dark Discovery, chapter 14...)

This wind felt heavy… strong… Approaching.

She flapped hurriedly – the dark already held her. She fled, her heart quickening. Feathers darkening, melding with the shadows, blending in and erasing edges until she was one with the blackness no matter how frantically she tried to evade, the invisible claws were already latched on.

And the bird herself changed. Full wings became ragged. Claws hooked the wingtips. Beak filled with knifepoint teeth, deadly, made to tear - lit by red fire of cruelty in her eyes. Feather became leather, roughhewn, scales. This bird was no longer an image of peace but an icon of evil. Peace to protection, serenity to strength as her lithe form slithered onward, onward, flexing new muscles as she glided towards a red light that was more like a bloodstain on the velvety black background.

--

Bookmark: (Weirdly enough, the book word was one of the least frequently occurring in my story notes! And half of them aren't even fully written. So here, take this. From something I wrote 10+ years ago.)

If only, if only... She could dream, no harm in that... unless the dream turned into a nightmare... Psh, right. Nightmares, what a joke. At least you WAKE UP and get away from the prison, or you find yourself on a comfy bed before you hit the ground.

She shook her head, bringing her eyes back into focus and back to the book.

Two words, a sentence...

She sighed inwardly as she lay the book aside gently, placing in the tiny paper bookmark... right next to her on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling, the plastic stars stuck up there with tack and - what was that, duct tape...? Well, it wasn't anything like the night sky, even when the lamp went off - those streetlights at her window robbed the phosphorescent stars of their beauty. She wondered, wished she could have a skylight, tilted away form the sick electric glow of the street and facing the south, or west towards the parkway... Maybe south-southeast, where the winter moon would rise tonight, slender and beautiful.

Ah, if only, if only...

--

Steel: (From the yet-unpublished revamp of Unforeseen and Unforesaken, I present to you an excerpt from my favorite scene in the revamped "Revelations" chapter!)

Empathically connected, Raven began working to ground Dove's energies, but this time she was far more fueled by the need to defend her friends against whatever dangers Dove had brought to them.

She didn't know what they were anymore. But she knew she needed to stop them.

So her eyes screwed tight, her face shadowed a grimace, her body clenched in resistance to the raging uncontrolled power she not only sensed, but shared, processed; taking charge, taking control, taking Dove's burden upon herself.

But there was more to Raven's connections-- much, much more than simple emotive empathy. Telepathy; clairvoyance; clairsentience. And a mind was much more than just emotions and power.

Facts, memories, details-- all things Raven knew to steel herself against when she opened herself to their ravages.

Dove's terror had long unleashed disorganized subconscious telepathic projections that Raven fought off instinctively.

But nothing could have prepared her for the shock that followed when Dove's life truths hit her awareness.

Raven's eyes flew open, wide and pinpricked and back rigid under shoulders that pulled back so suddenly both her concentration and the connection were shattered into fizzling black sparks.

--

Chill: (This one hasn't been placed in a story just yet, let alone published. If I ever do publish it, it'll likely be in the collection of Dove's childhood memories. If you've ever been curious about how Dove thought about Raven during her childhood...)

Raven was like a legend to her. And when she SAW her in her mother's memories for the first time: She was powerfully hit with sympathy... but also deep fascination.

That first time, she found herself thinking about her a lot, wondering, wistful - sympathetic. How could someone so young, made to be cold and calm, be the end to their world?

Her mother had told her enough about the way she was treated for Dove to know that very few, if any, had an answer. And she kept these wonderings mostly to herself.

That glimpse of her face became familiar in her thoughts. Dove studied the memory - her inhumanly pale skin, hair draping in an unearthly color, eyes deep yet distant. Relating her to the stories - Raven, the omen, the child that quaked Azarath in birth and would send them all to their death. More than story, not only prophecy - but Azar's sacred decree.

And Azar - RAISING her!

Sometimes she asked her mother if she can see her again. And Alerina would smile in that softly, sadly, sympathetic way of hers, and bring the memory back, so easily.

And then Dove studied every little aspect, mentally tracing the curve of her jawline, the hooded curve of her eyelids, the effortless focus so unobtainable to her... Tracing her, learning her, again and again and again. Until she realized she was dedicating her to memory.

And suddenly, Raven to her seemed REAL.

She was surprised at the depth of her feeling, for a moment - and then she asked her mother if she could see her yet again. She wanted to be sure her memorization was accurate. She didn't want to distort Raven behind her eyes, the way everyone else had done.

She found, her mother's memory of that glimpse was already slightly cloudy and vague... but what Dove knew was accurate to her humanity, her ethereal appearance, her chill.

--

Ember: (I had a hard time finding this word itself because I don't know how to specify that in File Explorer. But I could in Word at least! And even then, I had to approximate it... Here's one from DDD, chapter 18.)

Movie night.

Raven thought it was a bad idea for Dove to join them, with how erratic her emotions had been lately, and said exactly as much.

"It's just a movie," Dove muttered in a quiet monotone. "It can't be that dangerous..." Her cloak had adopted an unusual color, a faded orange, like dying embers just before they were totally extinguished.

Raven supposed it signaled apathy.

--

Storm: (Unpublished scene from The Next Step wherein Dove has a nightmare...)

“Dove, you’re screaming again!”

Srentha ran in full-speed through the doorway, though he was already panting hard.

His presence breached the storm of her powers and she coughed on a gasp and sensed him and his desperate affection so suddenly it choked her mind to stillness; the flames suddenly vanished, and Dove was left choking on the dust from the section of collapsed wall – her powers had ravaged the room.

Bedside he leaned over so he could see her in the near-endless blackness (was it just him or was her room even darker than usual?) – her eyes were wide, desperate, hurt, absently gaping up at him as she gasped desperately for breath, frozen in place.

"Dove, are you alright?!"

She didn’t answer – but she didn’t pull away, so he knew it was okay to clutch her close to him, promising her it was only a dream until the black-laced lightning wore itself out and her convulsive breaths had calmed to a quiet shudder.

--

Makeshift: (From an unpublished chapter of Srentha's debut story, Fire and Flight.)

He nodded to himself, finalizing that today would be the day he left. He pulled one of the oldest corked bottles from his robe, tilting his head in calculation. It wouldn’t be easy, but if he could form some of the more basic ingredients from the ashes, and if he could gather the right quantities, it would only be a matter of combining them in a container big enough the hold the solution. A makeshift bowl wouldn’t be so hard to obtain…

And so he set to work, gathering a pile of ash here, a broken chunk of the ground there, all the while keeping track of his findings and being sure he had exactly the right amount of everything. And then he called forth his energies, sitting on the ground and beginning the transformations. Each object shifted as he cast the spells, smoothly changing their shape, color, texture – first the bowl, then the white powder, the golden sand, and the deep blue liquid from his vial. He added each ingredient to the mix, carrying out each step more carefully than he ever had before.

Finally, the mixture took on a faint glow, and he smiled. The light emanating from the bowl faded as he tapped the final drops into the mixture, leaving a mass of glittering white-blue crystals, so small they seemed to be made of sand. So many thoughts flashed through his mind as he stood and took the bowl in his arms – if this worked and he did manage to pierce the dimensional boundary, how was he going to find the way to Earth? Would he be able to find his long-lost friend? Would he even be able to stay on that world long enough to search for her? And how would she react when they met? Would she believe it was really him…?

She’ll know, a voice within him promised – she always knew when he was lying in the past, so what would keep her from knowing the truth now?

#rhs writing #rhs stories #random fun

[observeroflaplace]

PART 5 - TO THE DEPTHS

Though the Oronir - and thus, more specifically, Gansetseg and I had made headway against more of these [E!£o’s] Primals, it was the wicked and winged bird woman that became our undoing.  Even the Oronir joined could scarcely land magical blows amidst the raging storm winds which she called, deflecting arrow and bullet, as well as spellcaster and swordsman alike.

Only ice seemed fruitful to slow her down, and that was beyond even the tiny Xaela’s tremendous firey strength.  Time and time again we charged, and time and time again, the flames of her strikes and my own Terminus Est were snuffed like so many flickering candles.

Even our own bodies were hurled around like rag dolls, sometimes taking many ticks to surrender us even to gravity.  Worse still, with every time we gave ground, we grew farther from the tower we sought to seize with the resistance born of the Echo; and closer to the edge of a strange crater.  And it seemed the soulless beast knew as much; pushing back with every advantage she could eke, until I myself was flung to the edge of a fall to who-knows-where.

Gansetseg screams in desperation, reaching for my hand; though her narrow reach eludes her.  I catch onto her tail, as she buries her spear into the ground with what strength she could afford, though the shroud of flames she cloaked herself in to give herself physical might was continually snuffed out.

I felt my own grip weakening.  Garuda’s tempest refused to lessen.  I could feel surfeit scales shed from my tiny Xaela companion’s tail, even as she tried with all her might to curl it closer to herself through the pain.

For a moment I feared that by saving myself, I might tear it clean off.  I reconciled myself with the fact that it may not even save me, but doom us both.

She screams my name[..?] as I surrender my grip, allowing her to hurl herself forward inadvertently.  I don’t know what became of her as I was flung into an abyss of soil, of stone, and rubble.

The depths of this place, forgotten in the desolation of war and the machinations of the Telopheroi seemed to grab at the edges of my senses, clutching, boring into my skull.  I did not black out, nor did I feel nauseated; however I drifted in and out of consciousness; all the while climbing, digging tirelessly.

I hardly noticed when I clamoured to my feet.  I hardly noticed when my nails were cracked and my hands scratched from moving so much stone.  I hardly felt the dust and mud settle and crust on me until I was covered in grime; and a makeshift passage lay before me.

It appeared that some great, hulking Warmachina had buried itself inside a great chamber of ancient Ala Mhigan design; likely lost to time and buried from its crash.  Its hideous and twisted appearance in the darkness made me wonder at first if it was an Eikon spawned by the tower.  The slithering, wet sounds that crawled forth from a cyst which may have once been a cockpit entrance from its back did little to assuage those fears.

I drew my blade slowly, as though frozen in terror.  Indeed, I was gripped by fear, and every instinct told me to turn and run or charge forward and find something, *anything* soft to tear my blade into.

But it was not merely fear which held me in place; but something more profound.  My own voice, monotone, bereft of my feelings and thoughts, rang through my head louder than ever.

[Disengaging combat parameters.  Suspending autonomous motor function.]

Whatever figure crawled out of the ruined Warmachina’s back was much too large to be a man, much too discoloured; and it was clear that despite the shape of a midlander or Garlean’s torso, there was no distinction between clothing and skin.

It rose no further than upright; and the edges of the orifice of the machine appeared to pulse in tandem with oversized and aberrant veins.

Through a once-monocled eye, now divided into three sockets where lenses once were, the sharp and cunning mind of a surgeon, or perhaps scientist, bore into me.  Into my very soul.

I tried to yell out.  To scream for help.  To question just WHAT this abomination even was.

It was no use.  The air left my lungs but I could not shape them into words.

The thing peered down at me.

“It is good to see you return to me, proxy of Sas Aurum.”

#ffxiv writing #ffxiv oc #writing #don't get too attached

[searidings]

this is what happens when @ekingston and i get our hands on the prompt “that's my wife!” and agree that she'll draw my idea for it and i'll write hers (aka hearing kara call it out as she watches lena being wheeled down a hospital corridor)

“Excuse me, you can't go through there!”

Kara growls. The woman blocking her path is short and gently rounded, the kind lines of her face drooping in disapproval above her nurse's scrubs. “No visitor access beyond this point, dear. Immediate family only.”

“Immediate— you're joking, right?” Kara cranes her head, peering through the closing doors to catch a last glimpse of Lena's gurney as it rounds the corner at the end of the hall. “That's my wife!”

The nurse gapes at her. “Your—?”

Kara growls again, louder. It's a good thing she'd blown out her powers twenty minutes ago, or she would not be held responsible for the Kryptonian-shaped hole in NC Memorial Hospital's expensive surgery doors. “Yes, my wi—”

Her snarl is cut off by a hand clamping down firmly over her mouth from behind. Kara's first instinct is to bite it. She resists, narrowly, as the familiar scent of shea butter moisturiser registers in her adrenaline-fogged brain.

“You sure about that?” Alex squeaks around a nervous laugh, voice pitched a half-octave too high. She removes her hand from Kara's mouth, wiping her damp palm on her pants with a wrinkled nose. “Get hit on the head during that fight, did you?”

Kara whirls on her sister, eyes blazing. “Am I sure?” she parrots incredulously. Alex cowers a little beneath the force of her stare. “Unless you're trying to tell me I hallucinated my entire wedding—”

“Supergirl isn't married,” Alex stage-whispers loud enough to be heard in Florida, glancing pointedly down at Kara's ash-caked body and oh yeah, she's still wearing her supersuit.

Right, right.

The nurse – Rosemary, her badge reads – finally picks her jaw up off the floor long enough to speak. Her eyes are wide, sparkling with sudden glee. “So Lena Luthor and Su—”

Kara's hackles rise at the suggestion in her tone. “Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers are happily married,” she interrupts sternly. “You might have seen the wedding photos in last month's Vogue.”

The nurse smirks. At her elbow, Alex drops her head into her hands.

“Kara Danvers, hm? Amazing what a pair of glasses do for you, dear.” Rosemary's brow quirks with impish satisfaction and, oh. Whoops. It would appear that in her haste to quash any potential rumours of Lena's infidelity behind the back of her very recent, very publicly human wife, she'd forgotten about the other delicate matter at hand.

Alex sighs so long and so heavy Kara legitimately marvels that she doesn't pass out from the strain. “I knew keeping a spare NDA in my back pocket would pay off,” her sister groans, thrusting an official-looking, if crumpled, contract beneath the nurse's nose.

“Sorry,” Kara murmurs sheepishly as Rosemary signs away page after page of her right to ever disclose Supergirl's identity in any capacity. “I wasn't thinking, I can't— Alex, it's Lena.”  

“I know, I know,” her sister soothes, frustration dissipating as she reaches out to pull Kara into her side, ignoring the soot and grit that smear across her jacket at the contact. “She's gonna be okay.”

“But what if she's not?” Kara asks and the sobs arrive then, the last remnants of the fight or flight response that had propelled her this far dissipating beneath the weight of her terror. “She stepped right in front of that bullet, Alex! Of all the stupid, reckless—”

“If I recall, she was pushing you back after you shoved her out of the way in the first place,” Alex hums thoughtfully. Kara's tear-filled eyes snap to her face, incredulous, and her sister grimaces. “Right, right. Not the time.”

“She has to be okay,” she gasps, clutching hard at her sister's jacket as her knees threaten to give out beneath her. “She has to, I can't— I feel like I can't breathe. Like my heart's been ripped out.”

Alex clicks her tongue in sympathy, wrapping a firm arm round Kara's waist and guiding her to a nearby row of chairs. Rosemary deposits the signed NDA wordlessly on the hard plastic beside them, reaching into her scrubs to produce a pack of tissues.

Alex accepts, extracting one to dab at Kara's snotty, tear-stained face with her free hand. “Welcome to married life, kid,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to Kara's matted hair. “It can be a real bitch.”

-

It's a long night.  

It's a long night, a night of anxious waiting and barely-restrained nausea and vending machine coffee so bad even Nia won't drink it. Her family, their family, crowd the waiting room, dozing across the rows of seats as the hours drag on and on.

Alex tries her best, at varying intervals, to force her back to the Tower for a stint under the sun lamps. Every time without fail, Kara sets her jaw, then sets her feet in the middle of the surgical wing waiting room and refuses to budge.

This leads to several arguments, and a lot of impassioned shoving.  

“What if she needs me?” Kara laments tearily, pout activated and puppy dog eyes firmly in place. Alex, mid-football tackle with her arms and right shoulder braced against Kara's torso as she attempts to use her entire bodyweight to force her sister toward the exit, only grunts with exertion. Behind them, J’onn dozes in the corner. Brainy and Kelly and Nia continue their conversation without batting an eyelid.

“No, scratch that, she does need me,” Kara corrects, unaffected by her sister's NFL-worthy body slam. “She's been shot. I'm not going anywhere.”

Alex, perhaps finally sensing defeat after her fourth unsuccessful attempt, gives one final shove with all her strength. Kara doesn't so much as wobble, and her sister releases her with a huff. “Fine. But for the love of God, change your clothes before you start shouting about your wife again,” she pants, red-faced and sweating as she collapses into a nearby chair. “That was my last NDA.”

That's a compromise she can make. Kara accepts the bundle of clothes Nia presents her with, stripping out of her dirt-caked suit and re-donning her glasses. Thankfully, the only person around to witness Kara entering the bathroom as a superhero and re-emerging as a Catco reporter is Rosemary.  

The updates on Lena's condition are sporadic at best. By the time the first surgeon emerges to say the bullet has been removed from Lena's chest cavity Kara's accidentally cracked three plastic chairs, advanced all the way to Lollipop Land on Alex's Candy Crush, and worn a groove into the waiting room linoleum with her nervous pacing.

When another doctor emerges three hours later to tell them Lena had developed a tension pneumothorax and needs additional treatment, Kara's made it to Rainbow Reef and chewed her bottom lip bloody.

When, at five in the morning, yet another doctor appears to inform them that Lena is being placed on anti-radiation medication to counter the Kryptonite that had coated the bullet, Kara's finished all nine thousand nine hundred and thirty-five levels of the damn game. The doctor leaves, promising to be back with more news soon, and Kara squeezes her sister's hand so hard poor Nurse Rosemary has to be called to administer an ice pack for the bruising, solar flare be damned.

Dawn breaks to find Kara scratchy-eyed and grumpy, worn ragged with worry. The waiting room begins to fill up around them, new patients and their relatives coming and going, and still there's nothing new on Lena. Every time another scrub-clad surgeon pushes through the doors Kara's heart skips a beat, all of them sitting up straighter in their seats, but every time the doctor passes them by.

Kara's just wolfed down six cold breakfast sandwiches procured by Brainy on his sojourn to the hospital cafeteria and is debating the relative merits of starting Candy Crush over from scratch when another young doctor appears. Her scrub cap has avocados on it. Kara likes her already.

“Family of Ms Luthor?” she calls, looking around, and Kara pushes up hard from her chair to the resounding snap of cracking plastic. Whoops.

“It's Luthor-Danvers,” she gabbles as she bounds over to the surgeon, palms sweating. No matter how many times she hears it, it never loses its thrill. “I'm, I'm her wife.”

The young doctor's features soften. “Of course. I've come to let you know that it looks like Ms Luthor-Danvers is out of the woods. She's sedated and still on an anti-radiation drip, but she's through the worst of it.” She appraises Kara, gaze lingering on her chewed-raw lips and clenching fingers, then leans closer conspiratorially. “It's not general visiting hours yet, but you can see her, if you'd like.”

“Yes!” Kara's shouting almost before the surgeon has finished speaking. “Yes, please, yes.”

She hugs them all, Alex and Brainy and Nia and Kelly and J’onn, and leaves them in the waiting room as she follows the doctor's sunshine-yellow crocs down the hall.

They round corner after corner, an interminable maze. Powerless as she is, she can't hear Lena’s heartbeat, and the absence of the steady beat that has become the soundtrack to her existence sets her even more on edge.  

But at last they turn a corner, and there she is. She's pale and bandaged and her eyes are closed, creamy skin streaked with dirt and bruises, but she's there, she's alive, she's Lena.  

The surgeon holds the door open for her with a smile and Kara's across the room in a heartbeat, smoothing a hand over Lena's warm cheek and pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead and hair.  

“I love you, I love you,” she whisper-cries against Lena's temple, tucking her matted curls behind her ears. The smell of blood and dirt and antiseptic is almost overwhelming, but beneath the dust and debris caught up in her hair Lena's scalp smells the same as always. Kara presses her face to the crown of her head and inhales deeply, soaking it in.  

“Why'd you have to be so damn brave?” she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against silky softness. “I love you so much. Please don't step in front of any more bullets. Please learn to be a coward, occasionally.”

The singular relief of having Lena living and breathing and in her arms again is so complete, so compounded by the fear and the adrenaline and the sleepless night and the solar flare, that she feels suddenly that she may crumple to the ground from the force of it all.

Unwilling to relinquish her hold for even a second she appraises the bandages covering Lena's right side, then crawls onto the hospital bed on her left, careful to avoid her many wires and monitors. She tucks herself in beside her on the wide mattress, chin hooked over Lena's shoulder and face pressed to the side of her neck, and lets the tears that haven't really stopped falling since that bullet had left its chamber fall for just a little longer.

Nothing matters outside of the two of them, outside of the warmth of Lena's body and the softness of her skin beneath Kara's lips and the steady thud of her heart beneath Kara's palm. Nothing else in the world exists, so when an unfamiliar male voice sounds from the doorway it takes her a moment to register the intrusion.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you really can't be on the bed with her,” the strange, disembodied voice calls from behind her and Kara frowns tiredly, unable and unwilling to acknowledge anything outside of the woman in her arms.

But before she's even managed to raise her head another voice sounds, the soft tones of a young surgeon in an avocado scrub cap.  

“Oh, honestly, Peter,” the kindly doctor says with gentle reproach, a quiet calm washing over the room as the door is pulled closed and she and Lena are left alone. “Leave them be. That's her wife.”

#check out easter's incredible art! as usual she absolutely nailed it #in my humble opinion you can simply never have too many 'that's my wife!' concepts in the world #it just never gets old #ridings writes #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl

[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

[targaryenimagines]

Just Wait

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,989

Summary:

Notes: I hope this is all right. 

Dialogue Prompt:  “Try and stay calm, okay? Help is coming.”

The wind was howling through the air. Snow whipping past your face and obscuring your view. All that you could see were the elegant spikes of Rhaegal’s neck. The pebbled scales being the only comfort to your numbing hands. You wince as the winds howls were intersected by the wails of the damned. Glowing blue eyes appearing before your eyes as you blinked. 

Glancing down, you could see nothing but the unending swirl of white in the pitch blackness. 

How many of your friends had already perished below you? 

How many would you never see again? 

How many would you never be able to properly bury?

The questions only cause the growing pit in your stomach to become that much larger. Your hands clench around Rhaegal’s spike. Trying your best to keep your breath steady as he took another sharp turn. Your body pressing against his neck in order to stay upright. Squinting doing little to alleviate the temporary blindness the action caused. 

Craning your neck, you look up in hopes that the moon would be able to guide you to where you needed to be. You were only met by even more suffocating darkness-- even the clouds having lost their glow. Curses fall from your lips as you angle Rhaegal down into another dive. Getting too close to the ground could prove to be fatal but you had no choice; images of Viserion’s lifeless body falling from the sky comes unbidden to your mind at the thought. Your heart breaking all over again as you remember his pain-filled cry. How Rhaegal had echoed it as you both tried to desperately save him. Your gentle boy being swallowed by ice and snow; only to be awakened by the very thing that had cursed him. 

You hadn’t seen Viserion yet but you had heard his roars. The once gentle and calming sound turned ragged. A mournful howl for everything that was lost and that had to continue to be. In the same manner, you hadn’t seen Drogon or Daenerys since the battle had begun. Both you and Rhaegal taking to the outside defenses to make sure there wouldn’t be any stragglers. Even now you couldn’t hear the sounds of Drogon’s mighty roars or the cries of battle. 

You and Rhaegal were completely alone. In the ghost filled sky that promised nothing but despair when it used to offer nothing but freedom. 

That is until a sharp cry from above you caused every hair on your body to stand on end. Your head snapping up towards the sound, even as you made Rhaegal dive to the side, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing Viserion. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing him so broken. His scales, once so vibrant, turned ashen and lifeless. 

His gentle face devoid of any emotion except for the mind-numbing coldness that seemed to be in constant supply in the North. 

Once golden eyes, that always reminded you of the sun, turned blue. Fire turning to ice. 

The only thing rivalling the horror you felt at seeing Viserion in such a state was seeing the thing that was riding him. The Night King’s cold eyes were watching your every movement as Rhaegal dipped lower and lower in the sky. Your attention diverted from his icy gaze towards Rhaegal as his wings narrowly escaped the tree tops. His body jolts as he tries to avoid the imminent collision. 

With your mouth pressed into a line, you force yourself to relax and remember everything you had learned over the years with Rhaegal. Every minute movement of his body and what that told you. Even if the Night King could control Viserion, he would never be able to fly like you could. You just had to get to Daenerys, to Drogon, and everything would be fine. 

Chancing one last glance towards him, you couldn’t help the sardonic smirk that pulled at your lips. “If you want me you’ll have to catch me you sick bastard.”

-----

In retrospect, taunting the Night King wasn’t the smartest plan. While you had the advantage of experience atop dragons. He held the advantage when it came being able to see where you were going. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was a very useful tool to have. 

As it wouldn’t be the first, or second, time you had almost slammed into something as you made your back towards Winterfell.

“How did we get so far out?” You hiss as you, yet again, dip Rhaegal into a dive to avoid Viserion’s talons. His disjointed shriek causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. You didn’t remember flying this far out from Winterfell but as each moment ticked by you could tell that you had somehow gotten turned around. We were only supposed to be a few minutes out at most. How did this happen?

Feeling the sudden breeze of air on your head, causes you to duck. Your head almost collided with Rhaegal’s neck as Viserion made another dive towards you. Feeling the slick feeling of liquid running down your neck, you raise your hand to the base of it. Letting loose a soft hiss as a sharp stab of pain is the response your body gives to the prodding. You know you didn’t have to look at your fingers to see that your glove was stained red. 

Catching sight of the beacon fires almost causes you to sob in relief. Your eyes welling up at the brilliant sight of light after spending so long in near darkness. The sounds of battle resounding out towards you like a choir. 

“Only a bit longer, Rhaegal,” you murmur against his neck. Feeling the way his breaths had gotten deeper. You don’t know how much longer he would be able to last if the pace continued like this. The constant bobbing and weaving through frozen air. Squeezing your eyes shut, you send a silent prayer to R’hllor to get you through this-- to get Rhaegal through this. “You’re doing so well. Just a bit longer and I promise you’ll be able to rest.”

Only a small snort was your response. The reaction caused a small smile to quirk your lips despite the situation you were in. His tenacious spirit hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even as his energy was so clearly waned. That’s my boy. 

Angling Rhaegal into a steep dive, you make your descent towards Winterfell. Your eyes desperately searching for Daenerys. Your breath catching when you finally caught sight of Drogon’s familiar form. His looming black shadow shifting over the battlefield as he and Daenerys dealt with the Wights. The Unsullied fight valiantly underneath their Khaleesi. You think you could even see Jorah shifting about with Jon Snow’s direwolf-- Ghost. 

Viserion’s sharp cry causes you to wince. Your head is already bowing as you twist Rhaegal into the opposite direction. Hoping that you would be able to be fast enough but you hadn’t reacted fast enough. Not as you felt Viserion slam into Rhaegal and press you down against his back. Your breath escaping you in a harsh exhale as Rhaegal tried desperately to free himself. His angry shrieks like daggers through your heart. 

Knowing that there was little else you could do; not when you and Rhaegal were so tired. You call for Daenerys-- hoping that your dragon would be able to get to you. Your eyes search for her violet as you begin your descent towards the snow covered ground. 

“Daenerys.”

------

“Daenerys.”

The sound of her name ripped through the air. Louder than any scream from the undead below her. Louder than any cry of the dying that would forever echo in her head. Louder than even Drogon was at his angriest. 

Her head snapping up in the direction the scream, no plea, had originated from. Her own beginning to form when she saw her mate and son in a spiral. She had known that Viserion was a slave of the Night King’s now but she had never truly prepared herself to see him. 

She had never thought it would be when he was clutching onto Rhaegal’s back. His talons like anchors against Rhaegal’s green hide. Rivulets of red already became obvious as her son struggled to break free. Struggled to protect his mother, his rider, from harm. She could even see your face from here. See the pain that was so clearly etched across your beautiful features. The blood that was becoming apparent through the stark white of your cloak. 

It was a sight that forced her into action. Nudging, Drogon in your direction as fast as he was able to go. Her heart hammering in her chest as Rhaegal let loose another cry of pain. As Viserion echoed it back with one of his own demented shrieks. Her two boys, that were closer than even she could comprehend, enemies because of the vileness that Westeros held. It brought tears to her eyes as Drogon finally got a hold of Viserion. His much larger form easily being able to overpower his brother. Claws ripping and tearing through brittle hide as he was tossed to the side. Little decorum being shown for what used to be his brother. 

Glancing down, Daenerys’s heart almost stops at the sight of Rhaegal’s still plummeting form. His wings weakly trying to keep him afloat but nothing would be able to stop his descent. She could see the wounds in his wings and the way his head was drooping which each second ticked by. Angling Drogon into a dive, Daenerys does everything she can to stop his descent. To stop him from hitting the ground but it was all in vain. 

Her widened gaze watching as Rhaegal was weakly able to run across the surface before crashing down completely. The form of his rider being thrown from his body into a heap on the icy landscape. 

Not thinking of much else, Daenerys jumps off of Drogon the moment his feet make contact with land. Her hand ran against Rhaegal’s neck in a quick search to make sure he was all right; relieved when she felt his heavy breathing through her glove. His steady warmth is still there despite everything.

With that task accomplished, she makes her way over towards the form of her mate. Her knees hitting the ground with preamble and she brought you into her arms. A worried gaze taking in every bruise and scrape that made up the expanse of your skin. Blood trickling down slowly from open wounds that didn’t look to be too deep. A relieved sob leaving her lips when she notices your breathing; while shallow it was something. 

Closing her eyes, Daenerys sends a silent thank you to whatever deity helped keep her mate and son safe. Her mouth pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she pulled you tighter into her embrace. Very much aware of Drogon’s presence wrapping around her. His protective stance warmed her heart.  

“Try and stay calm, okay?” She murmurs softly to herself as she pulls you tighter against her. Wanting to keep you as warm as she possibly could. “Help is coming.”

Glancing up, Daenerys could no longer see the various shadows of war against the landscape. Her heart thudding against her chest at what that could mean. Though none of it mattered if it meant that she lost you. 

Looking down, she presses another small kiss to your forehead and smiles despite the tears in her eyes. “I love you. If you hold on a bit longer I promise I will never leave your side again.” She nuzzles into your neck; needing to be surrounded by your scent. “You’ll be stuck with me. Just wait for help to come.”

Unbeknownst to Daenerys the slightest of smiles curled your lips at her words. You could never imagine not waiting for your dragon. 

#daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen #daenerys #queen daenerys #got imagines #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #daenerys imagines #daenerys targaryen imagine #just wait

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.1 (Racer! Yeosang)

Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, 80s AU.

Summary: During an era known for its vibrant colors, eccentric fashion styles and rise of new yet unconventional genres of music, the young generation of that time was infamously known for their need to rebel and live their lives rather scandalously and Y/N is no exception. So when a new and attractive man moves into her town, she has her eyes set on making him her next boy toy.

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Dumb attempts at crackhead humor, reader is a cold hearted bitch, guy gets dumped in public, reader's friend is lowkey creepy.

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Throwing on the last article of clothing that had been discarded the night before, the young woman shook out her hair, still damp from the quick shower she just took. Picking up her bag, she looked over at the figure still sleeping soundly, the subtle hint of a smile on his face. With a pitied pout on her lips, she walked over to the edge where his face was. Taking out the lipstick tube from her bag, she applied it all over her lips, painting them in the dark burgundy color that she fancied so much and had practically become her signature hue. Bending over, she pressed her lips against the corners of his mouth, giving him the faintest whisper of a kiss before pulling away. A satisfied smirk was plastered on her pretty features as she stared at the lipstick mark on his face, the only memoir she'd leave him with as she had done with countless others.

Closing the front door behind her, she pulled her denim jacket tighter on her body, shivering slightly from the early dawn's breeze that blew across. It was always like that even though summer had just begun, the early morning hours still feeling obnoxiously cool and then transpiring into slightly uncomfortably warm afternoons that had more than one soul in that quaint town grumbling and fussing about the weather. But oh did the evenings feel absolutely refreshing, and that's when everything would start bustling to life.

Having finally made it out of that small residential area and finding one of the main roads that helped her locate where to go, she started heading south towards the all too familiar diner where she had been working in ever since her school days, first starting part time and eventually transpiring to full time when it came time for her to spread her wings and fly out on her own, a feat she had been most anxious to do to get away from the overly controlling nature of her parents. She knew they cared about her, but she herself cared very little about the morals and principles they had raised her with, a common trait all the young people in that town shared: their rebellious and headstrong nature to not conform and go against everything they had been taught thus far. Live their own lives as freely as they chose to do.

And she definitely lived as she wanted to, even if it ended up with a rather bad reputation and ugly labels that rather than infuriate her, she openly embraced, as others had come to as well.

The light twinkle of the bells above the glass door let the person at the register know someone came in and they immediately plastered on their business smile, which quickly faded when they saw who it was.

"You're late Y/N." The minuscule raven haired waitress informed her, eyes never leaving her coworker's figure that came behind the counter and started punching in her number.

"Only by like 7 minutes." She waved her slip at the nonchalant looking girl before placing it back in its respective slot.

"One day it wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't show up because you got too caught up in.... something else."

Chuckling softly, Y/N walked up behind her coworker, hands coming up to ruffle the cheekbone level bob cut hair framing her unusually small face.

"Awww come on Lynn, you know I'd never leave you hanging here to attend customers by yourself. You're my bestie." Y/N assured her, playfully poking her lips out as she tried to place a kiss on her friend, the poor girl craning her neck away as she tended to dislike physical affection.

"I will squirt ketchup on you." Lynn threatened as she picked up the cherry red bottle as a last resort to get her attacker to back away. A rather noisy struggle ensued between both girls, catching the attention of the owner and cook behind the two doors, prompting her to come out and see what was the cause of such ruckus.

"Well I'll be darned. I don't remember paying you youngsters to simply slack off and behave like the hooligans you are." The middle aged woman spoke up, her thick accent becoming more prominent. Although she had a stern look and hands placed at her hips, the girls knew she was not in reality angry at them.

Looking over at the recently arrived girl, the owner closed her eyes and sighed deeply when she took in the attire she was wearing: low cut white tank, ripped denim shorts that left little to the imagination if she bent down, fishnet tights with a few holes in them, and her beloved denim jacket that was almost always on Y/N's body.

"I swear to god, Y/N , everytime I see you wear them rags you call clothes, I feel like my body is about to collapse. Why must you insist on dressing like a common street worker?"

Y/N wasn't at all offended by her words, having grown used to and becoming fond of her boss's abrupt, direct and honest manner of speaking.

"Gotta start looking the part if I'm going to dedicate my life to the occupation." She giggled at her own joke, resulting in the older woman taking the rag off her apron and smacking her with it.

"This little runt, talking nonsense like that- get your ass back in there and change into your uniform. Can't have you prancing around here in those skimpy clothes and have all these men that come here say disrespectful things about you. Nuh uh, not to my girls." She shook her head.

"Yes Miss Audrey." Complying with the woman's wishes, she pushed open the swing doors leading to the back and quickly made her way to the corner where all the employee's cubicles were located. Grabbing the necessary items, she turned and went inside the bathroom to change into her uniform, consisting of a knee length crimson red dress, which she had actually altered so it would be shorter and display her thighs more, the cap sleeves slightly puffed up and the torso part had a trail of white buttons going all the way up to the modest v-neckline, usually most buttons were left undone so her cleavage would shamelessly peak out. Exchanging her black Doc Martens in favor of her white Nike sneakers, Y/N tied her apron around her waist, making sure it was as tight as possible so it would accentuate her curves and give her body a more flattering appearance. As she made her way out, she quickly piled her hair up before securing it with one of the many elastics she kept around her wrists, leaving out a few tendrils to fall on her temples.

Coming back out to start her daily work, she stood in front of Lynn, who merely spared her an unamused glance.

"How do I look?" Y/N asked.

"Like a total slut." Her friend answered in her usually rude way.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a spray bottle and a rag. Making her way over to the table that had just finished being used, she quickly picked up the plates and glass, bringing them back over to where Lynn was, who took them so she could wash them in the sink. Spraying the top of the marble piece, she had began her task of wiping down the table when the ringing of the bell signaled new customers had arrived, and rowdy ones at that too.

"Damn! Is today's special fluffy sponge cake? Cause I would sure love a piece of that ass."

Y/N recognized that annoying voice even from miles away, belonging to none other than one of her old classmates, Jung Wooyoung, whom she considered a friend, if he didn't manage to irk her too much. Turning around, she of course wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by his crew of equally idiotic and adrenaline junkie friends, whom she had to admit were pleasant and fun to hang out with.

"Sit your asses down already, I'll be over in a minute to take your order." She told them before resuming her previous task, earning a scoff from the most dramatic of the group.

"Fine customer service! Don't think you'll be getting a tip from me." His words made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wooyoung please, you never ever tip whenever you come. None of you, except Yunho." It kinda saddened her that said male unfortunately wasn't there with them at the moment.

"He doesn't tip you, he tips short stack over there." His friend with cat like eyes pointed towards Lynn, who upon overhearing him held up a rather explicit finger in his direction.

"I'll poison your food San." She threatened with a sing song tone.

"Like I wouldn't know that you already spit on it." San spat back, sticking his tongue out in his immature and infantile fashion.

"Can you guys hurry up and order already? I'm starving and we gotta head to the tracks as early as possible." The fiery red haired male known as Song Mingi blurted out, fingers tapping impatiently against the top of the table.

"If little miss g-string would care to hop her luscious ass over here, maybe we could."

Strutting over to where they sat, Y/N harshly threw the dirty rag on Wooyoung's face, causing a faint grunt to come out of his mouth.

"No matter how many times you mention my ass, I'm still not letting you tap it." She firmly stated, making Wooyoung slightly purse his lips outwards in a disappointed grimace.

"So anygays-" Mingi began.

"Umm I think you mean anyways." San corrected him.

Leaning in towards him, Mingi locked eyes on the shorter male and stared him down with an intimidating glare.

"Did I stutter Choi?"

San immediately shook his head rapidly. With a victory smile, Mingi reclined back in his seat.

"I'm just going to get the breakfast platter with some orange juice."

Y/N couldn't stifle her snort when he said his choice of drink, the other two men looking away in embarrassment.

"You've been drinking orange juice since you were in grade school Mingles, don't you think you outta start taking something more grown up? Like coffee?" San suggested and Mingi did not appreciate it.

"Coming from the one who still brings a plushie to sleep with him, your suggestion holds no value or power." He retorted.

"OK SHIBER IS NOT A PLUSHIE, HE'S FAMILY YOU JACKASS!" San sprinted up from his seat, nearly leaning across to grab Mingi by the color, but he was held back by Wooyoung.

Lynn, who had thus far stayed quiet, promptly came up with a spray bottle and consequently doused the untamed boy on his face.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty." She reprimanded him, unable to resist the opportunity to attack her long time frenemy.

"Lynn!" Y/N looked at her with surprise.

"You're welcome." Lynn replied rather monotone before going back to her place behind the counter like she didn't just spray San with disinfecting water.

"There's too many germs going around anyways..." She muttered under her breath.

Without any further interruptions, aside from the rumbling coming out of the boys' stomachs, they finished ordering what they wanted and Y/N sent it over so they could be prepared. Not wanting to be near their loud asses, Y/N went back over to where Lynn was, peeking over to see what she was currently reading in the magazine she held.

"What you reading?" She casually inquired.

"Horoscope section." Y/N wasn't surprised, her friend tended to be into more mystical, eccentric and rather.....extreme with her taste in fashion and music. If Y/N was the one who turned heads for her scandalous attire, Lynn was the one people turned away from in fear when they saw how she dressed. It was a sight that truly made both of them laugh at people's foolishness, well at least made Y/N laugh. Her friend rarely had any other expression plastered on that wasn't utter disdain for society and life.

Unexpectedly, another customer came in. Both girls looked at each other in confusion when neither of them recognized him. Their town was rather small with few people living there, so they deduced that he must be a traveler who probably got lost on his route. He himself looked around nervously, eyes barely lifting up. Y/N couldn't help herself as she took in his perfect face. Big, round eyes with crystal clear orbs, small face with a V-line jaw, perfectly sculpted nose with no sign of defects, skin smooth and blemish free, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale. He was incredibly pretty, yet stood there so awkwardly that it was almost comical.

"Hey Yeosang! You made it! Sit down! I ordered for you in advanced!" Wooyoung surprised both girls when it seemed he knew the stranger and even waved him over to where they sat. The other two boys also seem familiarized with him and welcomed him to sit with them, chatting up a storm already with him.

"Who's that?" Lynn was the one to finally ask out loud.

"Beats me.....but he sure is adorable."

Noticing the way her lips curled upwards, Lynn could already see the wheels inside Y/N's head turning.

"And I bet you're going to go over there and find out- aaand there you go." She ended up answering her own deduction as she watched Y/N happily walked over with a more bright expression on her face, that soon soured when her boss came out of the kitchen and beat her over to the table, laying down several plates of food.

"I knew as soon as I saw the orders that it had to be the lot of you." She scoffed softly as she looked at the boys' grinning faces.

"You know us Miss Audrey, we wouldn't ever think of eating anywhere else but here. You're the best cook in all of town." Wooyoung praised her with a sparkling charm that could have fooled anyone else but not the robust woman in front of him.

"Boy stop trying to tickle my ears, I've known you since you were in your soiled diapers being carried around by your mama, running around and creating chaos anywhere you went. Flattery may work on them poor girls you play with but me? I can see right through ruffians like you."

Turning her head to finally notice the new addition to the group, she looked him up and down.

"Boy who might you be?" She questioned him, earning the ears of the girls nearby to listen in for any valuable information.

"I'm..... Yeosang Kang, nice to meet you." He introduced himself, tilting his head slightly down when he said that.

"He just moved into town this week! He's the new guy who is going to work with us down at the car shop and help on the race track!" San enthusiastically shouted, making the older woman cringe.

"I may be old, but I still haven't gone deaf for you to yell in such a way boy. So...." She crossed her arms and looked at Yeosang again.

"You a racer too?"

Now the girls, particularly Y/N, were more interested in what his response would be.

"I- yes. So it seems." The poor boy looked so flustered, obviously being more of a soft spoken individual, contrasting starkly to the other 3 boys.

Miss Audrey let out a seemingly displeased hum at his answer.

"As if we needed anymore hooligans running wild. We already got enough with the 3 Stooges over here."

The girls couldn't help but snicker at their boss's words, always having a blast whenever she put the boys back in their place. They however looked displeased, glaring at them intensely.

"Shouldn't you both be off somewhere cleaning dishes or making sandwiches?"

Snatching one of the knifes, Lynn held it up and was about to jump over, but Y/N came up in front of her.

"Lynn, no. Just calm down ok? You know they're just being idiots." Y/N reminded her.

Grumbling something in a foreign language no one knew for sure if it was real or not, Lynn put the knife back, squinting her eyes at them before turning around to not look at them again. Y/N giggled softly, finding it absolutely cute whenever her friend lost her cool and collected form cause it reminded her of a chihuahua, barking and yelping at anything larger than itself trying to establish dominance.

Noticing that in her display of aggression, Lynn had inadvertently knocked over a few of the brochures that were on display for people to take, Y/N stooped down and proceeded to pick them up in a casual manner. Standing up, she neatly arranged them properly, making sure they all faced the same direction and the sides weren't poking out anywhere. Feeling as though someone had been watching her all along, she looked at the table of boys, half expecting Wooyoung's smug grin to greet her, but she was completely wrong as it was none other than the new guy who seemed unable to keep his eyes off her figure, staring intently at the length of her skirt. When he realized she noticed, his eyes went wide, cheeks burning up with utter embarrassment. Y/N however seemed unbothered by this. Wanting to test something, she pretended to accidentally drop one of the pamphlets. Bending over, she made sure he could get a perfect glimpse of her cleavage, if he payed enough attention, he'd be able to see that she was in fact, not wearing any bra. Coming back up, Y/N looked over to see the results, smirking when the agape mouth of Yeosang confirmed to her that he had indeed noticed everything.

"Oh sweetheart, you're gonna be too easy..." She had already made up in her mind that Yeosang would be her next target, and she had to put her plan in action. Placing the brochures down, she was about to go over and start flirting with him, until a familiar voice called for her.

"Y/N! There you are!"

She internally groaned when she heard him, wondering why on earth did he not get the hint of ditching him like that, especially when he very well knew about the reputation she had. She tried ignoring him, but of course, he had had to be the persistent type, no doubt thinking he was going to have a different ending than the rest before him.

"I thought you'd be here. You could have told me you were going to be gone early. I would have made you breakfast."

Knowing she had to say something, Y/N grabbed her pad and gave him the fakest smile she was capable of donning.

"Hi, what can we get started for you today? Waffles? Eggs and bacon? Coffee to start off with?"

The trio of friends, having no choice but to witness the interaction due to it happening right in front of them, snickered amongst themselves.

"Oh shit. He's in for it." San whispered lowly.

The boy obviously looked extremely confused, his smile lightly falling off, but then returning to its hopeful state.

"Why are you acting like this candy bear? Pretending like you don't know me?" When he tried to reach a hand to pull her close, the girl simply pushed him away with one of her fingers.

"Look, clearly you're too stupid to understand so let me spell it out in a language you can understand." Letting out a tired sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, a sour look displaying on her pretty face.

"We had a nice time together, and last night was... average to put it nicely."

"Oh man. That was a total burn." Mingi couldn't help but snort, some of the orange juice being spit back into his glass.

"But that was all it was and all it's ever going to be. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just go back home to your Star Trek figurines and watch the latest episode of Thunder Cats?"

The not so discreet snickering coming from the table behind them only made the humiliation for the man multiply significantly. Turning red with utter despair and rage, he quickly brushed past Y/N rather brusquely.

"Fucking bitch." She heard him mutter under his breath, a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing among many others.

"Oh god. Homegirl struck again." Wooyoung laughed, swirling his milkshake in his hand.

"Ayo why you gotta do Thunder Cats like that? It's actually pretty entertaining." San commented.

Looking over at the time, the guys quickly stood up, dropping their share of bills onto the table.

"You guys get paid today too right? Come meet up with us at the track." Wooyoung suggested.

"Why on earth would we want to go see your greasy, oil smelling ass after dealing for nearly an hour with you already?" Lynn questioned him, eyes never peering up from her magazine.

"Because Yunho would be there?"

Still she didn't respond, the only movement made was her finger turning the page.

"Bro we been knew she don't give two shits about him." Mingi reminded them.

"Because we're going to the drive in theater after work, they're playing a horror movie."

Lifting her gaze, Lynn closed the magazine, although still stone faced, her eyes seemed to brighten up.

"My interest has been greatly piqued." Her lips showed the faintest whisper of a smile that gave a rather eerie and chilling feel down the people's spines.

"Maybe we should rethink inviting Satan's offspring." San leaned in towards Mingi, shivering significantly.

"Great! So we'll catch you gals later."

The boys quickly dispersed themselves, save Yeosang who still sat quietly, keeping mostly to himself. His fingers fidgeted with the half drunk cup he was holding, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. Looking up, he was attempting to work up the courage to talk to Y/N, but before he could even get the chance to gather strength, the owner came out from the back, whispering a few orders to her and gesturing for her to go tend to a situation in the kitchen. With a defeated sigh, he got up to go join the rest of the gang outside who were waiting for him. Slumping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he moved out of the booth with a solemn gaze.

"Hey."

His steps came to a screeching halt when he heard Y/N call out to him. Looking over, she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Hope I see you later." With a flirtatious wink, she bid him goodbye as she disappeared into the back.

Yeosang stood there stunned momentarily, replaying her words over and over again in his mind, pondering endlessly at their meaning.

"Little pussy cat sure got you brain dead, didn't she?"

Startled by the unexpected voice next to him, he jumped when the face of the kind yet stern old lady studied him carefully. With a disapproving shake of her head, she decided it'd be best to warn him before he started getting ideas in his head.

"Listen, you seem like a sweet and sensible young man, so it's best for you to listen to me and stay away from that darn girl. Don't let them sugar coated lips of hers sweet talk themselves into your heart. You'll just end up heart broken like all the lovers she's had."

Picking up some of the plates, she gave him one last look, pointing an accusatory finger at him to get her point across.

"She's dangerous." Finally saying what she needed to say, Miss Audrey headed back with plates in her arms, slapping away Lynn's hands when they attempted to pry them off her, barking instructions at her to watch the counter and leave her be.

"Dangerous....." Yeosang thought to himself, the warning the good intended woman gave him sinking deep in his mind. Although he took her words to heart, something about the way she glanced at him pulled at the strings in his chest, taking his breath away when he remembered the risque position she was in that purposely allowed him to view more than he should have. That memory tinted his cheeks pink, lips unable to suppress a small smile. He knew that he should heed the old woman's advice.

But he had to admit that he loved danger and the thrill it came with.........

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