#we love him so much we do not think he could process being sentient if he was real
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here’s the full doodles sheet for qblrsmp!icarus btw. don’t mind the feddy
#icarus speaks#icarus draws#qblrsmp#i have a feddy pillow pet irl and hes mine and apollos fuckass son#we love him so much we do not think he could process being sentient if he was real#that’s the default icarus expression i’ve decided. haze just looks like that
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I just read your fic about Optimus being jealous of your car/vehicle, and I present you, Megatron in his shoes:
You walked to where your vehicle was parked, but it was not there. Instead, it was a familiar-looking alien jet with a different paint job that sat nicely and politely.
You felt your blood pressure rising as you kept asking where your property is, but the lovestruck warlord insist he's your new chaperone.
Basically Megatron thinks you process colors the way female birds do to male birds.
LMAO I LOVE IT SO MUCH
the funniest part is that his alt mode probably doesn’t even have a cockpit since it’s a cybertronian fighter, and megatron is way too proud to change it. so there’s literally no way he could actively transport you. 1-0 for optimus, i guess. does that mean megs will stop trying? absolutely not. knowing him, he’d probably try to gaslight you into thinking you never needed some pathetic, inanimate car, and HE is a far better match. you do trust a sentient machine that has a vehicle more, right? the fact that said vehicle is also the leader of the decepticons is suddenly irrelevant <3
oooo, i love this idea with the birds. i don’t think megs would go as far as some species (like birds of paradise or peacocks), but there’s definitely something primal in the way he tries to impress you. he makes sure to look as shiny and polished as possible for you and sharpens his claws daily. and most importantly, he shows off his strength, proving that no other bot could ever compare to him. oh, and we could even throw mate guarding into the mix if we don’t tie it to a harem au.
or!! megs bringing you rare trinkets to impress you. when you end up in his hands, he casually gives you a piece of meteorite or a shiny stone FROM ANOTHER PLANET, and before you can even comprehend what you’re holding, bro’s like: alright, so now you’re my mate, right?
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I'm not sure I've ever told you about the idea, but I did end up getting permission to write a poly Kushina/Minato/Shikako for UnexpectedSensei!Verse. It's been a while since I thought about it though. Have you read UnexpectedSensei!Verse? If so, do you think I should go the funny/crack route or the serious route?
There's this specific version of the song "Still Here" that's Nightcore (but it hits different), and it's giving me serious UnexpectedSensei!Verse Shikako vibes. It's created this incredibly unlikely scenario where the initial candidates for Hokage are decided by some artifact or something playing super epic AMVs of those worthy, and Shikako shows up like the dark horse she is when Sarutobi is looking for a successor. If that makes any sense.
Unsure if these asks were directly related--it would be interesting if they were, but I'm guessing not--but I decided to bundle the answers together anyway, if that's cool.
First, I have read UnexpectedSensei!Verse and very much enjoy the series! It's one of my favorite DoS recursive series and truly contains the perfect amount of serious blended with Shikako's I am seemingly omnipotent and omniscient to everyone else but so blasé about it that it reads as funny/crack.
A poly Kushina/Minato/Shikako for UnexpectedSensei!Verse does sound like a fantastic idea! It kind of hearkens to... and I apologize for how CONSTANTLY I am self referential about these things... the spirit of this extremely short ficlet I wrote in which Kakashi overhears Shikako basically imply that had he bothered to learn fuinjutsu from either or both of Minato and Kushina then so many of his life's tragedies would have been avoided. I mean, but less Kakashi self-blame oriented of course. The spirit behind it being that Shikako, Minato, and Kushina would be an absolutely OP triad of mischievous genii, but with vastly different personalities and thought processes who maybe don't always agree but nonetheless respect (and eventually love) each other.
I may need a link for that nightcore "Still Here," lol.
I think an artifact--or maybe, to lean into that whole... Hidden Leaf and the mysticism of Mokuton, it's an ancient semi-sentient ginkgo tree--that decides the next Hokage or at least generates a report (whether that is in the style of an epic AMV, lol) or something that significantly contributes to the decision of the next Hokage is also very fascinating.
Like, this is a little reverse of what we're going for, but in the show Trese, the main character undergoes a coming of age ceremony by entering an ancient balete tree and basically receiving a vision, but it appears to take YEARS before she comes back out. Which doesn't seem to surprise people. So, it could be something like:
current Hokage (in this case the Sandaime--or, if we don't want to deal with him, we could just say, "person who is potentially deciding on the next Hokage") enters/touches/kneels before the secret semi-sentient ancient tree that lives inside the Hokage mountain somehow or whatever
person speaks a potential candidate's name --> tree gives a vision of whether or not they'd be a good Hokage (perhaps in the style of an epic AMV--I mean, ideally we're looking for cool inspiring hero, but even villains and tragedies have epic AMVs, you know? You can still be entertained even while knowing that person probably shouldn't have control over a military dictatorship)
repeat as needed for however many potential Hokage candidates there are
at end of person's list, perhaps the secret semi-sentient ancient tree offers their own suggestions
perhaps the secret semi-sentient ancient tree, being so ancient and mystical, isn't beholden to time and so doesn't really know how time works for mere mortals
perhaps the secret semi-sentient ancient tree, has been continuously showing an epic AMV of Shikako to EVERY PERSON who has asked for potential next Hokage candidates and is confused as to why it is CONSTANTLY being ignored only for it to FINALLY be given the name Nara Shikako and it's like... YES! THIS IS THE ONE! YEAH! I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU THIS WHOLE TIME! HERE!
Anyway, thanks for the asks, aryaokayfriend! I know these were pretty short responses, and squished together, but I hope you got some fun out of them :D
#jacksgreyson#aryaokayfriend#dreaming of sunshine#unexpected sensei verse#shikako nara#minato namikaze#kushina uzumaki#asks#answers#brainstorm#fanfiction
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What makes a military genius
Obi-Wan recognises the most qualified person to lead his battalion is not himself but his commander and acts accordingly.
Could be the same AU as “Not Obi-Wan’s first slave uprising” (where Obi-Wan is presented with a battalion of slave soldiers, says please and thank you, and starts plotting how to take down the slavers).
Jedi are more like diplomats, spies, or special forces, where they have to achieve much with very little. Obi-Wan had learned to use his assets to their fullest, including—and often especially—sentient assets. Or, Obi-Wan recognises the most qualified person to lead his battalion is not himself but his commander, and acts accordingly.
I have this mental image of Obi-Wan meeting his commander and having a discussion, comparing their education and qualifications; recognising that while he’s willing to learn, his learning curve would happen at the expense of the lives of his men; and promptly reassigning duties. Cody ends up with effective command of the 212th; Obi-Wan’s combat role becomes a specialist and his non-combat role a combination of consultant (he does have applicable experience), Republic/Order attaché (slash shield/advocate for his men), and a professional banthashit processor (which allows Cody to do his job as effectively as possible). And that’s how the 212th ends up the most effective battalion in the GAR.
I love the MilitaryGenius!Obi-Wan trope, but soldiers the Jedi are not. This is one solution for how both could be true at the same time (in other words, gimme military genius!Cody). Obi-Wan has the strategic genius to recognise that he has what might be the finest army in the galaxy crippled by poor leadership—and the negotiator’s out of the box genius to figure out a solution for it. His by the book appearance is part an attempt to protect the good thing he has going on and part malicious compliance.
Bonus:
- Obi-Wan in full trooper armour.
- Obi-Wan in full armour is a trooper that doesn’t exist—the “Ghost” of the Ghost Company (i.e. his assigned company).
- I got thinking about different scenarios and when it would be more advantageous to have your Jedi look visibly Jedi for intimidation, distraction, or whatever—and when it would be more advantageous to hide him in plain sight in one of the identical sets of trooper armour. And I thought that if Cody had a Jedi who was willing to let Cody do whatever he wanted with him, that would definitely be one of the uses to make of him. You know, in addition to getting him wear armour, two birds one shot and all that jazz.
- Cody and Obi-Wan also discuss the possibility of making their arrangement public, making it known it’s a clone who’s effectively running the battalion. But for some political osik reason decide no.
- It probably so happens that the finest army in the galaxy is also compromised by the senate’s lengthy decision making process and poor logistics, but that comes later. Although it might already be apparent that some of it will become a problem—soldiers can’t function without support and logistics & I’m pretty sure not all pertinent support was included in the clone order (onboard ship mechanics yes, shipyards no). So you have a fighting force that *on paper* should be easily winning—and when it isn’t, you can blame the Jedi for something they have no power over.
- That being said, we never see what happens to the service corps during the war—they must be pressed into service as support personnel if the whole Order is drafted? So there are Jedi generals (the knights), but also navigators (Exploracorps), healers (MediCorps), supplying & feeding the army (Agricorps), etc. I wonder how much discontent it causes when those services are pressed to war and taken away from the populations they previously serviced? Probably poorer Outer Rim populations, furthering the divide between Core and Outer Rim worlds and pushing more Outer Rim worlds towards the Separatists, worsening the crisis.
- Eventually Obi-Wan’s experience from Melida/Daan comes in handy. Unfortunately, not his experience with leading troops, but his experience with total warfare and breakdown of infrastructure. That’s not something Cody was taught to expect—he was trained with the expectation of at least somewhat functional support. So Cody has a learning curve, but unexpectedly this is something his general knows.
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I have something for you guys ….
here are my redesigns of the four known 7 deadly sins from the hellaverse! I’ll go in order explaining.
Here’s Lucifer — the adjustments I made were primarily to his hair and smaller features, such as giving him goat eyes, a snake themed cane, and pulling more classical and biblical inspiration forward. I love a lot of the artistic liberties in the Hellaverse designs but I do think that him being a curly-redhead is a pretty important thing that I hated to see left out of his design. I also gave him hooves and claws because I felt like he was a bit too human compared to the other sins, and wanted to make him stand out a bit more!
Next is Asmodeus! My main focus was to make it more evident which sin he represented — while I love Ozzie’s design, I felt like his color palette could be slightly more representing of the sin of lust, so I shifted toward warmer toned colors such as red and purple, while sacrificing the green and blue. I wanted to bring across more gender-fluidity since lust is something I think it is important to represent through various gendered lenses and so I went for the whole upper-half masculine lower-half feminine thing that you see here with a vest+button up and a long slit skirt! I also wanted to show more heart motifs that appear to be evident in ironically all of lust and its inhabitants besides Ozzie most of the time, and so I curved his tail and head feathers in a way that made heart shapes, and I placed Bull and Ram in a way where they’re more visible and stand out more so as their own little entities since it’s implied they’re separately sentient.
My girl Beelzebub! I LOVE her design, but I do feel like it leans heavier toward hellhound (and fox somewhat) and not enough toward her insect features, so I gave her Bee stripes as well as putting more emphasis and effort into her wings. I kept the multicolored lava lamp hair and belly but made an extra effort to highlight the gold in it to emphasize the honey/bee theme, while also placing this texture in other places such as her paws and inner-ears. I also gave her a honeycomb crown, and more loose-fitting flowy clothing to display her fun and laid-back nature, while referencing her bee themes again by adding a yellow gradient meant to mimic pollen that gets stuck on bees during their pollination process. I also gave her the funky bug eyes :) anddd sorry but I took away the mohawk, it just felt too cluttered for me to draw among other things.
Here’s Mammon! I may be biased but I love his design so much already that it was difficult to change a whole lot. However, I did find things that I wanted to change. For one, you may notice there are hat and no-hat versions of Mammon here, and that’s because I wanted to display the broken imp-like horns I gave him. In biblical mythology, Mammon often disguised himself as someone who was poor or in need so that he would be able to garner profit from pity, and I think that there is no better way to represent that than ripping off his favorite little brand-baby. I edited a lot of the black in his color palette to be gold instead, as well as adding gold to the fingertips of his gloves as a reference to Midas’ touch. I gave him more of a spider-like appearance since according to a lot of the fandom his species is fairly ambiguous, and I made his shirt (or whatever you call that lol) a bit shorter and less cluttered because I often struggled with drawing it. I also attempted to adjust his proportions a bit as I feel like the designs for the fat characters in Helluva and Hazbin often struggle a bit with proportions and it feels important to me to better represent them.
That’s all I got, but I also created my own takes on the sins that haven’t been revealed yet, which may end up being one of my next posts! I’m doing my best to stay active in the art community and this media has given me some motivation and fuel. Any input is welcome as long as we stay positive ❤️
Reminder as well that my commissions are very open!
#bunneclair art#wlw artist#queer art#queer artist#art#commissions open#helluva boss#hazbin hotel#helluva boss fanart#hazbin hotel fanart#helluva boss redesign#hazbin hotel redesign#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lucifer#helluva boss mammon#helluva boss asmodeus#helluva boss beelzebub#hellaverse art#hellaverse fanart#hellaverse#helluvaboss sins#looking for commissions#character design#character redesign
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remnants character recurrences and theories
Okay. I convinced my best friend to listen to remnants and she loves it just as much as I do. We just had a very long facetime call where we poured over the transcripts. I believe we have identified each character recurrence in the podcast so far. You can see these connections plus some theories below :) (I might be spelling some of the names wrong I'm very sorry if I am) (Might not be 100% in order either but it should make sense)
Benoit is Celine's son in episode 1 and in episode 4 he talks with and kisses Marcus.
Lord Du Perier is in episode 1, he is the person that Celine has a relationship with and we know that he is married at this time. It is mentioned that Du Perier is not his real name. In episode 7 we meet his daughter Amelie and he calls himself Teddy.
Sarah is the nanny in episode 2 of both Paige and Christopher. She is mentioned in episode 9 as being Paige and Jonny's nanny and as being assaulted by Christian, falling pregnant with his child.
Mr Jones is the Bevan family (Paige, Jonny, Maud and Christian)'s gardener and also seemingly the landlord of Annie and Sally as is mentioned in episodes 9 and 10.
Christian and Maud are the parents of Paige and Jonny. They are mentioned in episodes 2, 6 and 9. Christian is who Eliza, from episode 6, is in a relationship with. It is mentioned that he has a young wife, Maud and that the Glanville family is friendly with the Bevans. It is assumed that Christian is the father of Eliza's child, though in episode 9 Maud doubts that this is the case, saying that the son does not look like how Christian's children usually do. It is said that Pearl sent a letter claiming that Christian is the father and also that Eliza died in childbirth.
Edward Pocket is the adopted son of the Pocket's as is mentioned in episodes 9 and 10. In episode 10 Sally says that he died along with his parents; however, in episode 9 Annie meets him after coming back and he claims that Sally died saving him. We know that this is not truly Edward, rather it is someone impersonating him, because he does not have the eye colour that Annie remembers and he does not know that he is adopted. He takes over the law firm Cratchet and Pocket. Interestingly, he appears in episode 3 as the solicitor who gives Gerald Simmeon's will (the scream I scrumpt when we discovered that omg). It seems to be implied that Ted could be impersonating Edward because he would know about Victor and Sally as Edward does when he meets Annie in episode 10. However, he mentions Victor having a sister and Victor only ever mentioned a brother.
I strongly believe that whoever is impersonating Edward Pocket is connected to at least Annie's murder, indicating that he might be connected to the others as well.
Very interesting that in this episode it was revealed that A practically is a remnant himself. Does this mean that Sir’s insistence that A judge the remnants is more so that he can judge A and work out how to process him? Is all of this not actually about sorting the remnants at all and more about sorting A? I’m not sure.
Also I'm thinking the sentient dust might be like, the consciousness from discarded remnants. That’s a TRUE crackpot theory though.
The moths from the podcast cover being the moth-like letters of the apprentice written across whatever extreme amount of time is very interesting.
The music box is also very interesting in that it appeared both times A’s memory got wiped. I also mentally connect it with episode 6 beyond that, because the song it is playing is from Swan Lake and Eliza dreamed of being a ballet dancer. Which COULD mean NOTHING. If we get a remnant that is a music box I'll literally scream. Especially if it ends up being Eliza's.
#fun fact#we came up with this whole theory that Du Perier aka teddy is actually ted#and by extension whoever is impersonating ed and by extension the murderer#but that all fell through when we realised there were conflicting eye colours#it also involved a theory that a was connected to these stories because he was the murderer#but it is very late in australia rn so#excuse the crackpottery#i hope this proves helpful to someone#getting a good grade in podcast listening which is both normal to want and possible to achieve#remnants pod#remnants#remnants: an audio drama
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...
...
Mandricardo.
Dante Alighieri.
Sakata Kintoki.
Van Gogh.
(eerily calm) ... I've two questions.
Question one. Do they know? Does Roland know he has our friend? Did he know when he spoke to us so casually?
Question two. Can our friends be recovered? Killing the paladins is no object in this question, yes or no.
GIUSEPPE: "Outside of the fact that the minor keys aren't sentient… I wouldn't know, that's something you'd have to ask the Paladins about. Most likely, their T-Summoning was seen as a gift from their king, one that would make them more powerful in their crusade to 'liberate' the Solar Cell. Even still, sub-cores in T-Summons can't be recovered, they'll be destroyed with the rest of the Saint Graph."
CONSTANTINE: "…Some self-awareness would be proper here before we lose our heads with purportedly righteous fury. You were carrying around Lair Servant Asclepius' Origin in your pocket for days after we personally killed him, and didn't return said origin to the Solar Cell until recent. Growing cold and bitter because you're determining Spirit Origins alone as sentient now simply because it is suddenly directly related to you would be hypocritical."
SALIERI: "...Why must they keep their heads calm? Charlemagne is our enemy. Charlemagne is our barricade. Charlemagne is the one thing between us and the Moon. This anger, this fire, this is what is needed in a contractor. War needs to be fought with resolve."
GIUSEPPE: "You'd need a properly compatible Spirit Origin, and the only one you had was the Caster. Even still… I wouldn't recommend it. It's the process of turning a Servant into a 'weapon'. I kept it as an option beforehand, but I have my doubts about exploiting such a power now, seeing how your current selves are."
GIUSEPPE: "…It'd be more harmful to the Paladins, frankly. T-Summons weren't made with the intent of giving someone a 'happily-ever-after'. Frequent usage leads to mental strain, and then full physical strain on their Spirit Core, before they fizzle out. During the Origin War, the 'mental strain' aspect wasn't much of a concern for you, but the physical meant that skirmishes could only last for a certain period of time before things went south…"
GIUSEPPE: "I'm not sure. An incompatible T-Summoning can be… disastrous if used too frequently."
KUKULKAN: "But Astolfo said that Charlemagne was their friend! A friend wouldn't do that to another friend, right?"
GIUSEPPE: "Which I why I believe he's being misguided and doesn't understand the full extent of the T-Summoning's nature. Either that, or the Paladins are aware of the danger but willing to risk it for their cause. They're devoted warriors to their king, after all."
CONSTANTINE: "Remember their perspective, and what Turpin told us. The Heavenly Divinity is a threat to the Moon and to mankind on Earth. In their eyes, they're liberating the Solar Cell from an evil god."
KUKULKAN: "Right… we were just on the same mission before. 'Saving' the Solar Cell from a divinity that holds no love for it's people. When I was summoned by your 'Avenger'… that was my 'initiative'. In some ways, it still is. Do you think, maybe, they're acting under that same process?"
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Lowkey, I'm so glad to read the history of YB. I really enjoyed the content I was able to find of him with the game, Day 1 & 2. It was hard to find info about this game at first, so I read the wiki of course. I saw the traits of a wholesome yandere, if such a thing could exist. A yandere who wasn't violent with their target. That sounded like my jam!
(My Commissioned Art by @Two_Leaf_Cl0ver on twitter, feel free to use it for whatever!)
So I supported the Patreon cause I wanted to see how far along the game was and to play it for myself, because nothing beats personal experience.
I want to lay my thoughts out as I process why I like YB and what disappointments I've come to have with the game and maybe what I would like to have seen done instead. I'm not a game dev, so I'm coming at this without knowing everything involved in making a game.
[SPOILERS BELOW, DUH. I mean for ALL currently playable days.]
[Also HEADCANON stuff.]
(Source: Wiki, not my art, pretty sure its Fuboo's)
Day 1 is pretty sparse, but I likened it to being a demo of what to expect. Since YB said things like "I'm your boyfriend. Isn't that why you're here?", I took it to mean he was aware everyone who downloaded the game wanted him to be their boyfriend. However, maybe Y/N is sentient in their own world and is mostly like wtf is going on with this dude. It would also explain the "mixed messages" he says we are sending him when we reject his advances. I thought he might have even chosen to approach Y/N that day because he could see we, the player, were inhabiting their body.
In short, I was pretty thrilled to play a weird meta yandere dating sim. Moving forward, I am treating Y/N as an entity separate from myself. They are my (likely very unwilling) vessel, and even though I can influence how they behave, they obviously have their own will. They don't seem to know I'm possessing them either.
Day 2 has more dialogue and such, introduces the other characters, but I still find it doesn't feel like there is as much content as I would have liked. All answers that day basically led to the same way the day ends, which I find to be really weird. It makes me wonder if dev isn't sure how to do branching paths so that Day 3 can start exactly the way they need it to. Based on what I know about YB, it felt like he was in character in all routes until the very end when he just attacks. It's especially out of place when playing along with him.
As a side note, Y/N's personality has the biggest divergence in this day. If you are mean to YB on Day 1, then you are a complete asshole to everyone around you. This route is called the abuse route, I think, because YB will abuse you? However, I think of it as the abuse route because Y/N is really abusive to everyone around them and YB just sort of runs with that energy. (I am saying here: the player is influencing both Y/N and YB to be assholes, so we are basically the assholes in this route? I'm not trying to victim blame Y/N, but rather, I'm saying Y/N and YB are our victims. I would say Y/N is always our victim regardless...)
Day 3 is when shit hits the fan for the story in many ways. For Y/N, they just lost someone they knew, probably. TK or Lucy (who both seem to come off as potential love interests) or the Landlord/Don Williams (who doesn't read as a love interest at all to me, maybe I'm just oblivious as fuck) will die. Or, if you played Day 2 a certain way, a random person will be murdered.
My gripe with this is mostly that it comes so quickly, so soon, just a random murder of a major character. With how little content I feel there is in Day 2, I feel like I barely formed any attachment to TK, Lucy, or Don Williams, especially from the perspective of only having played the games.
This isn't to say they aren't great characters, because I think they are.
In fanon.
The fans have really taken these characters, the random snippets we know about them from various sources (the Tumblr and Wiki) and ran with them. Though these characters don't receive the same level of love and attention as YB, I feel like they have really enhanced any attachments people could form with their own skillful writing/observations.
Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't also point out how Peter comes off out of character on this day. He's pushy, demeaning, and outright abusive towards Y/N.
A part of me wonders: is he just pissed off because Y/N is in his way of getting to us, the players? Or is he actually not aware he is in a game despite what the creator said?
If he is aware he is in a game, and this is supposed to be out of character for him to behave this way, does that mean the game is forcing him to act like this?
But then he admits to grinding against Y/N at night when he sneaks in through the window. He doesn't just watch Y/N sleep, he touches them. That's not consensual for Y/N at all. I thought he was just a guy who was peeking at worst (still not great), but he actually sexually assaults Y/N. (Not to kink shame anyone, but outside of fantasy obv that is not okay.)
It really left a sore taste in my mouth. I thought this game was about a meta yandere guy who loves the player so much he is trying to take advantage of the game to talk to us through Y/N. Obviously, this is me building up my own expectation for the game, but I would have accepted any other way the game turned out as long as it was still meta and vaguely wholesome in his actions, at least with regards to him never hurting us, sexually assaulting us, or berating us.
But instead, it's just a simple "he's just Y/N's stalker" and makes no further attempts to speak to us, the players. It all just feels disappointing.
Day 4, I won't say much since the creator doesn't want much to come out about it, but I will say it gets a tad better, though its gross inside the context of Day 3.
YB returns to being a sweetie cutie pie, mostly because he finally won. Depending on how your route has been going so far, you can experience the 'erotic' part of the game. Currently, there isn't much CG to it, its a still image with smut. I'm not going to complain about it. I will point out you can tell him to stop and he will.
Which is really out of character for how he acted on Day 3. Does he respect our consent or not? Does he care about how we see him or not? Day 3 he's acting like a huge douchebag, and Day 4 he is like 'uwu okay i'll stop.' It feels inconsistent with the narrative of the game.
I'll stop discussing day 4 here.
Right now, I feel like this game is missing so much. I feel like the game relies on the player to find lore about YB on their own, rather than include it in the game. The characters don't have enough screen time for me to miss them when they are killed or absent from Day 4.
It seems we are supposed to meet a new character on Day 4 who is a friend of YB, but it seems REALLY LATE to be introducing a new character. This character has been known to die hard fans for like over a year, but we don't know ANYTHING about him aside from a short list of bullet points.
Then there is the mysterious Greta. YB's therapist or some such. Supposedly this person is encouraging Peter's behaviors. Why would they do this? What is going on? Will this character make an appearance in the game at all? If they do, why so late?
There's a chance that a completed Day 4 and 5 (aka a finished game) will tie this altogether, but unless more is added to Day 1, 2, and 3, I don't see it coming together in a satisfying way.
I'll still play the game when it's completed, and I'm staying in the fandom, because I love YB and the fan content for YB. I love the YB we have all collectively imagined, the one who is a yandere stalker, but isn't hurting us. The YB who is sweet and thoughtful, even if he's stupid enough to think stalking is okay.
Here's some fan content that I really enjoy and is what helped me build my own personal head canons about YB, the game, and what it all means:
Sugar Gives Me a Toothache (SGMATA) - This is a fanfiction on AO3 and its a masterpiece. In this, the game's Y/N is called MC, and the reader is a Y/N that stalks YB (Peter). There is so much longing, pining, sweetness, bittersweet, and just... I LOVE IT SO MUCH.
Game Over - A comic both on Twitter and Tumblr. It hasn't been updated in a long time, but it's still soooo good, and the art rocks.
And just all the random comics people draw for YB. Him being goofy and stupid. Him being a lovesick puppy. Him being a dangerous animal only Y/N can tame. All the memes and jokes. All very inspiring.
I guess in short, I really love YB more than I love the game, and I think YB might end up being something that transcends his own creator and becomes something that belongs to the fans.
#yb game#yb peter#your boyfriend game#your boyfriend visual novel#yb fandom#yb thoughts#your boyfriend#shooting the shit
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Hi, I want to share a little hc with you today that I have with Meta and Galaxia.
So I hc that Meta likes to maintain his weapons/swords as best as possible and finds rather claming to do so. And likes it enough he would even helps his friends maintain their weapons too when asked. Which happened more often when said friends where either unable or was stuck in medic to recover.
Porblem is that Galaxia is most likely the first magical sword Meta's ever had in he's perament possession as far as we know. And who knows if a magical snetient-ish sword even needs to be maintained like normal swords do?
So here come what the knight feels is an awkward 20 question game to make sure that he is not threading on a landmine or needs to get some special supplies if the sword needs a bit of maintenance every now and again.
Either way, I recon that Galaxia would not say no to a bit of maintenance now and then. Might feel like a bit of a massage for all we know and with how long Galaxia was around that demonbeast that guarded it and stuck in stone, she might find a bit of relife in Meta taking some time taking care of it.
Interesting headcanon there! And sorry for the long delay, arm issues and all and also I was thinking about how to answer this. I'm not used to people throwing me their headcanons! xD I think it's a cute idea, though I like to imagine it was super awkward at the start, haha. Poor guy's probably never had a weapon TALK to him, unless we suddenly learn the Master Sword was also sentient, lol
My own version of Galaxia is interesting and would be "happy" at being taken care of though it probably wouldn't exactly be joyous in the sense we understand it. It would read it as "Ah, my master deems me worthy of maintaining and using. Excellent. This is good."
To toss in a bit more of my own shenanigans, my Meta kind of resented Galaxia at first so it was a bit of a build up before he trusted it. (See the readmore for some scribbles)
But yeah, this is a cute idea. I recall in my original fic there was a time Meta was cleaning Galaxia to try and relax and it seems like something he'd do to chillax in general.
Kinda hard to get friendly with something that basically deep-fried your bestie in front of your eyes and weakened her enough to get mauled to death.
My Galaxia tried to be as apologetic as it could be since it sensed his pain but... Yeah. It had to be very gentle with the local grieving borb in order for him to favor using it over his more sentimental sword. It could sense how... pained he was in general both blaming himself and after hearing about how it can't entirely control its enchantment, it wasn't its fault.
On a less heavy note, Galaxia and its predecessor actually do love being tempered and tweaked by their maker.
Probably is like getting a hug from your mother/favored parental figure. Her fire feels the best to them above all others. Galaxia funnily enough doesn't know how to process how it feels about that, haha. Cypha would also rip those boys a new one if they didn't take care of their weapons and armor well so yeah. xD She's very happy Meta takes extremely good care of his swords, even if he doesn't use his Master Sword as much these days.
#I hope my answer is okay it took me a while to think of how to reply ahhh#ASMR Chitter Chatter#Starlyteart
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162. Tender Is The Flesh, by Agustina Bazterrica
Owned: No, library Page count: 219 My summary: All the animals are dead. A freak virus made them dangerous to humans - and, importantly, inedible. So the world governments came up with a solution. Cloned humans, harvested for their meat and skin, anything that a person can use. Marcos works in an abattoir, processing these clones for consumption. But when a purebred female is gifted to him, Marcos realises a new opportunity. What if he can replace the son he lost? My rating: 2/5 My commentary:
Well, this book wasn't good. It's such a shame - I love strange books with weird or grotesque premises, if an author wants to explore something taboo there's a chance that they'll have the kind of creativity that I really enjoy in a story. And this had so much promise! In a world where we can no longer eat the flesh of animals, we instead clone humans and slaughter them for meat. That's an interesting idea (if, granted, somewhat played out in the kind of dystopia/sci-fi I like) and with some development, could make for an interesting story. Unfortunately, this book was not that. I found very little to like about it beside the premise, and if I was going to be uncharitable, I might even note that the premise itself seems to be chosen to carry the weight of a mediocre story. Certainly, I probably wouldn't have bothered to give this one the time of day without it. I'll go more into why I reached this conclusion under the cut, but the short answer is - it's just not that great.
The idea of cannibalism is one of our great taboos, and a particular fascination of mine. The problem is that in this novel it seemed to be used more for shock value than being an integral part of the worldbuilding, because the idea of cannibalising human clones as presented here really falls apart when you examine it for more than a minute. The change has happened over our protagonist's lifetime, yet everyone in the world is suddenly inured to the idea of eating people? You'd think it'd take a generation or two for the idea to become that ingrained. Similarly, the infrastructure for creating and slaughtering these clones has come up very quickly - alright, it's a plot point that they've repurposed things like old slaughterhouses, but given that this world doesn't seem to be that far in the future, how did we get perfect cloning technology that easily? As well as the ability to artificially age said clones, presumably, given that they seem to be producing enough meat to feed everyone despite all of the clones mentioned having adult appearances. (Unlike in the real meat industry where juvenile animals might be used, or where the animals slaughtered reach maturity much faster than humans.) If we can make clones that perfectly, why do we engineer them to be basically people instead of just unthinking, non-sentient slabs of meat? Surely that would be psychologically easier for everyone involved.
There's also the mention that the elderly and infirm are being used to produce meat, but that never really gets developed or goes anywhere. Likewise is the protagonist's idea that the virus which made animals inedible was either manufactured by the government for population control reasons (if people eat people, the birth rate goes down…despite the mass-produced 'meat' being explicitly clones I guess?) which is mentioned by the protagonist and then basically treated as fact despite that not mattering to the story and us not seeing any real substantive evidence of that. Like real conspiracy theories, there's not much there that stands up under scrutiny.
But beside all the worldbuilding holes, this book is just boring. Strip it of its surface-level gimmick, and what you have is a book about a man who has lost his kid, his wife's leaving him, he gets into a very questionable quasi-relationship with someone he's definitely exploiting, and that's about it. The protagonist is unlikeable, even without his abuse of the clone-woman 'Jasmine', cynical and bitter and hating of literally everyone without many redeeming qualities. His quest to replace the son he lost with one who is his blood via 'Jasmine' just reeks of toxic masculinity and the importance placed on virility, but this isn't really explored or examined at any length; I think it's actually meant to humanise him. Which it doesn't, because he is an odious little man. I hated him, and without him, there's very little left in the book to enjoy. Bleh.
Next, a world where wishes are bought and sold.
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Job 8: 8-12. "The Reeds."
The Reubuttal of Bildad, "the love of the landlady", a pal of Job's continues. The format reminds me of a psalm, which are in a call-response format.
This section speaks about the soil in which Prince Job is buried the shadows of the past. Job's whining sounds like he is resigned to a life of futile suffering, because he is a highly emotional inexperienced teenager. His argument against learning the Torah is the same as young person who argues he should not have to make his bed as he will just unmake it a short time later. His claim here is "why should I try to live like the upright when I'm just going to sin again anyway?"
The Torah says yes, but no. There must be no sin. There can be mistakes, but not sin. Persons who do not plan to put an end to their capacity to sin are cut down by life, it is simply too much for them and they do not attain to Shabbos or Shabbat. Everything wears them out and seems futile, they are thorougly unpleasant to behold:
8 “Ask the former generation and find out what their ancestors learned, 9 for we were born only yesterday and know nothing, and our days on earth are but a shadow. 10 Will they not instruct you and tell you? Will they not bring forth words from their understanding? 11 Can papyrus grow tall where there is no marsh? Can reeds thrive without water? 12 While still growing and uncut, they wither more quickly than grass.
The text mentions water, a marsh, and reeds, which are implications of the birthplace of Moses in the Nile River. The process between the Marsh and the Promised Land that follows is one we don't often discuss, the evolutionary path of a slave to that of what is called a Hebrew, and from that to a Jew, the highest stage of Jewish thinking.
From Shmot:
The Birth of Moses
2 Now a man of the tribe of Levi married a Levite woman, 2 and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. 3 But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket[b] for him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. 4 His sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him.
5 Then Pharaoh’s daughter went down to the Nile to bathe, and her attendants were walking along the riverbank. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her female slave to get it. 6 She opened it and saw the baby. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said.
7 Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?”
8 “Yes, go,” she answered. So the girl went and got the baby’s mother. 9 Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this baby and nurse him for me, and I will pay you.” So the woman took the baby and nursed him. 10 When the child grew older, she took him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became her son. She named him Moses,[c] saying, “I drew him out of the water.”
Ancient Jewish sages likened the drawing out of the sentient being out of the adolescent male animal to drawing a drowning baby out of the water of the intellect. Until he leaves Egypt, the stage in life where the noise in the mind and body, early attitudes, and delusions have yet to meet experience or evidence, a man is considered unformed. Some adults who are too heavily indoctrinated or underfed proper data as young persons never vacate this stage for proper adulthood.
The Republican Pary and Evangelicals, Hamas, Hezbollah, the orthodox community are examples of persons who have not absorbed the Water of Life from the Nile and purposed it like Moses, and entered into a life of substance. What is missing? Something called Miriam, the mother of Moses, whose name means "strength of the call to go west," towards enlightenment:
"The verb מרר (marar) means to be strong or bitter and can be used to describe tastes and smells, and hard or difficult situations.
Adjectives מר (mar) and מרירי (meriri) mean bitter. Nouns מרור (maror) and מרורה (merora) refer to any bitter thing, the former specifically to a certain bitter herb, and the latter to gall or poison.
Noun מררה (merera) also means gal. Nouns מרה (morra), מרה (mora), מרירות (merirut), ממר (memer), ממרור (mamror) and תמרור (tamrur) mean bitterness. The latter noun is spelled identical to the noun תמרור (tamrur), meaning marker or sign post, from the root תמר (tamar), meaning to be stiff or erect.
And speaking of such, the nouns מר (mor) and מור (mor) mean myrrh, a bitter and fragrant spice that was originally used to mark the tabernacle, but which came to be used to proclaim, olfactorily, the consummation of marriage. Hence, despite its links to words that mostly describe hardship, myrrh oil was known as the "oil of joy."
Verb מרה (mara) means to be contentious or rebellious, particularly against God. Noun מרי (meri) means rebellion.
The verb מור (mor) means to change. Perhaps the connection between the previous is coincidental but perhaps these words are indeed linked, as change is often reaction to bitterness or opposition. The noun תמורה (temura) means exchange.
The noun ים (yam) means sea, and was also used as synonym for west (sea-ward) or the future (as "east" corresponds to "past"). Its plural form, ימים (yamim), is identical to the plural of the word יום (yom), meaning day."
The marsh is where the water and the mud mix, and hidden in the reeds are 184, אחד, "just one." As verses 9 and 10 state, they, our ancestors from which the raft bearing Moses was launched cannot help us they are upstream. The decision to enter the Shule the River Nile and endure all that must take place in Egpyt is ultimately not one belonging to our parents or to other Jewish people but to the self. The call of Miriam is difficult to heed, but man cannot be happy if he fails to hear it.
The Values in Gematria are:
v. 8-9: We were born yesterday and know nothing. The Number is יזזד, yezad, "dare to be bold unto eternity."
v. 10-11: Will they not bring forth words of understanding? Understanding is not a product of words but of evidence. One never, ever reads a religious or scientific text as if it were fact until one uncovers the evidence. If one misconstrues the words then the evidence will align the defition with the truth.
Now we know the presence of carnivorous plants, for example, prove the existence of evolution through mutation.
Nutrient poor soils and a random mutation in some species produced thousands of species of carnivorous plant that sustain the nitrogen cycle not through the soil but through the consumption of insects and small mammals in specially evolved minute digestive tracts. Charles Darwin spent a great deal of time researching the phenomenon and eventually explained we are fucked if carnivorous plants do not thrive on this world. They fix nitrogen and return it to the soil for plants that have no hope of being fed through their roots on their own.
Our survival, therefore hinges on the ability to accept the fact the God of Israel employs mutation in the final engineering in the creation. This not found within a literal interpretation of the Seven Days but makes perfect sense after scientific examination of the actual world. The same is true for all aspects of the adult self.
The Number is 15200, י״הר, y'har, "tomorrow."
It all comes out in the wash.
v. 12: While still growing and uncut, they wither more quickly than grass. Reeds, which grow in standing water do not have the same problems as the ass that is grass The Number is הזזא, "the zaza, the move."
In ancient Hebrew culture, the name Zaza was given to people who were seen as catalysts for personal and societal change, and who embodied the essence of progress and movement. They were also thought to have an inherent drive and motivation.
Mankind has been laboring over this idea of progress since it stood upright. We never have enough progress. The word for progress in Hebrew returns two definitions, both are animals, the strange combination of a bear or a dove:
The Hebrew word dov (דב or דוב) is a male name that means bear. It is also the root of the Yiddish name Ber, which was common among East European Jews. The name Dov is said to embody a cute but fierce persona, like a cuddly angel with a big heart.
Both which are also explained by the word Jonah:
"Assumed root יון (ywn) yields the noun יון (yawen), meaning mire or swampy, boggy ground. Mire's signature failure to provide secure footing is often used proverbially.
Note that in the Bible dry land often signifies factual and consensual certainty, whereas water (seas and rivers) denote liquidity, growth and potential. This is why in the Bible the great cultures are always associated with their respective great rivers.
From the same or identical second root יון (ywn) comes noun יונה (yona), meaning dove. In the Bible the dove serves both as a symbol of weakness or indecisiveness, and of vast abundance (as well as being the bodily form of the Holy Spirit). Apparently, in antiquity doves were everywhere.
They were recognized to show no resolute dedication to an ecological niche (like, say, the eagle), and to flutter about in uncertain circles, much unlike the straight paths of, say, ravens. Ravens are associated with hearing and doves with sight. The Greek word for dove is περιστερα (peristera), of which element περι (peri) indeed describes both a broad circle and ubiquity.
Curiously similar to the word for dove, the verb ינה (yana) means to do someone wrong or to oppress or vex someone. Perhaps the two have nothing to do with each other but where the great leaps are most celebrated, it's the little irritations in life that provoke the most massive progress. Or in other words: for every one brilliantly engineered iPhone there are hundreds of staples, paperclips and rubber bands that tie much more of life together.
The noun יין (yayan) is of unclear pedigree but is obviously similar to the previous. It means wine; either simply fermented grape juice or mankind's culture at large, seeing that in the Bible humanity's cultural world is often depicted as a vineyard: many separate grapes make much liquid wine, and many separate minds make much liquid culture."
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Feat of Clay - Matt "Clayface" Hagen / Ted Lupus
CW: Toxic Relationship; Unrequited Love; Escaping Abuse; Hurt/No Comfort (He Comforts Himself Lol); Teddy Lupus Being Unhealthily Whipped; Starts Off Very Canon Compliant Before Derailing; Matt Hagen Being An Asshole :(
We found Matt in his car.
Well, not entirely Matt. He was closer to a... sentient blob of clay.
It was a lot to process, sure. All that mattered to me was making sure he was okay, though. That's what anyone's first thought would've been, right? Obviously, he's my friend. Boss? Work partner? The lines had blurred in my brain at some point. Having a hopeless crush on him did little to make our boundary between a professional and a personal relationship solid.
I'd like to think I've been there for Matt for a lot of important stages in his life. At the very least, I've been in his life for a long while. I loved him before his accident, after it happened, then after Dagget's lousy scam of a product turned him into this... monster-like being, and I'll probably love him regardless of what happens to our already strained relationship in the future.
Then again, I shouldn't throw around the term "relationship" so loosely. The rational part of my brain keeps nagging that I mean little to nothing to him, and only has me around for convenience. It's probably right, but I'd like to imagine that it's a bit more than that. He calls me Teddy sometimes, and if I had just a smidge less of self control, I'd start kicking my feet and giggling everytime. I've deduced that he tolerates me better than most people; I mean, we're practically roommates at this point, and I took that as enough of a win to satisfy my stupid, yearning heart.
Unconditional love is a weakness.
It finally bit me in the ass after Matt turned into "Clayface". That's what he calls himself now. I would to tease him for the lack of originality, but I can't risk irritating him now.
He's been very on edge, for obvious and understandable reasons. He's gotten better at controlling his body, molds it to any shape or material he wants... I'm very happy for Matt, don't get me wrong!
What I'm concerned about is the violence. It's not exactly directed at me. Yet.
However, I'm getting worried. I'm sick of having to be weary of the man I love so deeply, as if he's a loaded gun.
I miss feeling comfortable around him.
I wish i didn't care this much. About him, about his well-being, about all of this. It brings me nothing but hurt. I'm no idiot, I know the attachment is unreciprocated, even if he hasn't outright told me so. I hope he doesn't know it's more to me than just the brotherly concern of a long-time friend.
But does it really matter anymore? I might as well be a doormat to him at this point. I've already had my self respect walked over, I don't have much else to lose.
When I enter the room to bring him food, Matt- no, Clayface, -is shouting at the TV. I wince, but try to get him to eat anyway.
Any sane person would be able to tell that he's too stressed. Fuck, even an insane person would be able to tell. I really am not the best at consoling people, all of my exes have kindly made me aware of that, but I felt like I absolutely had to say something to help him chill out, get his stress out a little. To hell with my integrity, a small part of me was even hoping I could help him de-stress in a certain way, fucking hell...
Apparently, I'm saying the wrong things. As always. Stupid Lupus, stupid fucking lovesick Teddy. Hagen stands up from the couch, menacing as always. He's always had that threatening aura, if I'm being honest, the "Clayface" thing only amplified it a bit. Steaming Christ, don't think I've seen him this pissed at me before.
"Don't you dare patronize me!", he yells as he points a finger in my face. I'm still holding the giant plate of food I cooked for Matt- nevermind, I suppose. He's knocked it out of my hands. Ouch.
Clayface leans in closer, towering over me. Out of fear, I back up a little, but what good does that do against a shapeshifter?
"I told you, I don't need rest. I don't need food. And I don't need you!"
Those are the last words I hear before a gigantic arm comes barrelling towards me, fingers extending uncannily. I'm frozen, seeing it in slow motion as Matt grabs me like a claw machine, and throws me across the room.
I've gotten demoted from doormat to ragdoll. Awesome, I think bitterly, right before my back hits the bookshelf. I fall to the floor with a thud, and by the time I regain my senses, Matt's already stormed out.
"And I don't need you!"
"I don't need you!"
It keeps replaying in my head.
Oh my fucking God. "I don't need you!"... For a minute, I think Scarecrow must've injected me with that goddamn fear toxin, for that moment felt like my worst nightmare come true. Unfortunately for me, it didn't just feel that way, it did come true.
I try to stand up, but I'm still trying to process everything. Matt. Clayface. My love. Hagen outright said he doesn't need me. He doesn't need me.
Matt doesn't need me. I'm useless to him. I'm a burden and an idiot. He doesn't need me around anymore since he's overcome human necessities like his career, eating, and friendship. Was it ever a friendship? I'm not sure anymore.
The realization hits me like a truck, and I stagger as I try to get up. Gripping the shelves until my knuckles turn white, I keep muttering like a broken record: "I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you!"
I don't know how long I stand there for. All I know is it feels like years. Why does it hurt so bad? I've always known deep down that I didn't mean much to him, so why am I having such a reaction to him actually admitting to it?
Well, I practically lost my life's purpose. I've been working for only him for years by now, but I guess that devotion's all out the window now. Why did I even bother in the first place? Something like this was completely inevitable, and I knew it.
God damn it, Matt, why does it hurt this bad?
I look down at the books that fell from the shelves upon impact. Should I bother picking them up? It probably doesn't matter, but I do it anyway, methodically, as a distraction.
How can I live like this? Why have I endured this for so many years? What's tying me down with him?
How has he kept me on a short leash without any protest from my part, like a loyal fucking dog?
I used to keep telling myself that Matt needed me. At first I was his assistant, he needed my advice; Then he needed me to take care of him due to his accident.
"I don't need you."
He doesn't need me? Okay. Okay! I can handle this. I'm an adult, I'm a man. I can handle this, even if I feel like I've been stabbed in the chest a thousand times over. He doesn't need me? Okay. Good, then he won't have any problem with not having me around.
As much as it hurts, I need to leave. I need to escape, as soon as possible, before Clayface gets back.
...What if he still needs me around to keep him in check, though? I can't help but feel guilty. No! Stop being a dumbass, Teddy, he said he doesn't need me and threw me across the damn room! For once in my miserable fucking life, I need to make a decision in favor of my own well-being. I won't be a punching bag.
Ha, ironic, right? "I won't be a punching bag", as if I haven't been one for as long as I can remember already. Bleeding Jesus, how much more pathetic can I get? I feel like throwing up out of self-repulsion alone.
Not giving myself a chance to overthink it, I climb out the window, rush to my car and drive away with no destination in mind.
Driving away from Matt slowly makes me realize how helpless of a situation I've gotten myself into. I've always been a weed attached to some actor with a blooming career, even before I started working with Hagen. I have nobody to rely on. No job... No place to stay... I'm starting fresh.
Gotham loves a comeback story... Time for the rebirth of Theodore Lupus, as his own person.
#clayface#clayface fanfiction#matt hagen#teddy lupus#matt hagen x teddy lupus#batman animated series#clayface x teddy lupus#batman animated series fanfiction#batman fanfiction#DC#dcu#writeblr#hurt/no comfort#angst#toxic relationship#✰ batman#btas#btas clayface#✰ chemi posti
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Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (341): Tue 21st Feb 2023
I watched a few clips of the American kids show Mr Rogers Neighbourhood as I’d never seen it before and being British I don’t think it would have been available to watch without getting tapes sent over from the US. The episode I watched took place the week after Robert Kennedy was killed and it features the sidekick of the show Lady Aberlin consoling a concerned puppet and it’s damn creepy. It starts off quite melancholy, spending a minute on the puppet asking Lady Aberlin how humans don’t shrink down when we exhale but balloons do when you let the air out of them. Then after a five second pause the puppet asked nervously “what does assassination mean?”. The music goes much more downbeat and Lady Aberlin struggles to gather herself after being asked such a sensitive question by someone so vulnerable. She then explains it to him but there’s no positive spin out on it at the end the two just sit awkwardly. The puppet processing what it has just been told and Lady Aberlin goes quiet presumably concerned about if she handled the situation sensitively enough. I always wonder how I would explain death to my kids if I had any (which I never will because bringing kids into the world and forcing them to rely on me to keep them save would frankly be cruel). I wouldn’t know whether to tell them about the idea of heaven because I personally don’t believe in it but I also wouldn’t want to introduce them to the idea that they will never see the person who has died ever again. I tried to think about how the topic of death was brought up to me by my parents. I can’t say I remember them telling me about heaven and the afterlife but up until I was about 13 I definitely believed in it. In fact I remember going through a bit of a mental crisis when I was that age because I realized that the idea of never being able to die would be absolutely terrifying and could be just as bad as going to Hell. I think maybe one of my school friends may have mentioned that they were an atheist and I said I was too in order to seem cool but eventually came to the realization that I actually no longer thought there was an afterlife. There’s a Twilight Zone episode where whenever somebody dies the fabric of time and reality gets altered so that their history is completely erased from existence. This would take away all of the pain but it would also take a lot of the joy out of life too because grief, although tough to go though is also reaffirming because it proves to you how much you must have loved the person you lost. Maybe the correct way to explain death to kids is to explain to them that some people believe in an afterlife and some think that there’s nothing after death and leave it up to them to do the research and come to their own conclusion. Thankfully I’ll never have to go through this soul crushing experience sometimes I think that if there is a God, then when he saw just how much suffering and trauma goes with sentient life then he would have realized it would have been kinder to not create us at all. On a lighter note I learned that the actress who played Lady Aberlin was a woman named Betty Aberlin and was actually George A Romero’s first choice to play Barbara in Night of the Living Dead but Mr Rogers wouldn’t allow it. That would have been awkward if she had been in the movie and some kids saw it and then when they next tuned in to Mr Roger’s Neighbourhood and Lady Aberlin walked on the screen they’d runout of the room screaming “AAH Zombie!”
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wait the mista thing reminded me do you remember that one quote murolo makes abt his stand being divided... what do u think that means if we apply it to mista bc murolo knows abt like bad company and the. other stand I forgot but he knew Things and ur the mista person.... so enlighten me if u can with ur very cool thoughts
YES I think about this so much. Like literally the first thing that came to mind when Murolo mentioned that was "wait. Mista though."
(For reference/anyone who hasn't read PHF, this is the quote in question:)
Obviously, by the time of Purple Haze Feedback, Mista has a "hollow pit inside," caused by the grief of watching his loved ones die and, very likely, having no other support mechanisms to process it (he's isolated from Trish, and his relationships with Giorno and Fugo are rocky, at best). At the same time, I think the Sex Pistols being a colony stand has to stem from something further back - after all, they've been a colony since he obtained them years prior (and his backstory seems to imply that, even before the stand arrow, they'd existed on some level, though they hadn't yet manifested).
If I can refer back to that Fugo and Mista post, I think what split the Sex Pistols might have been his very OCD-coded thought patterns. Just as All Along the Watchtower (a stand made from a deck of cards, which puts on performances with the "stage name" The Watchtower Troupe) reflects Murolo's belief that the world around him is flimsy and unstable, and that he can't trust anyone and must put on facades to avoid being betrayed; and how he claims Metallica, Bad Company, and Harvest reflected their own users' "hollow pits;" the Sex Pistols are another facet of Mista's life that give him routines and structure, even if it seems irrational to others. He actively has to take care of the Sex Pistols, feed them when they need to be fed, keep them in line behaviorally, etc, or he'll be defenseless, and tangible harm could come to him. Forgetting to, say, give the Pistols lunch would be, in Mista's mind, no different than taking the fourth slice of cake; in both cases, performing (or not performing) a specific, seemingly unrelated action puts him in danger.
The other thing that's interesting about the Sex Pistols, though, is that they're completely sentient. Historically, we see this with characters that have a strong resolve: Koichi, Trish, Giorno, and so on. At the same time, there's characters whose stands behave independently because they lack control over themselves - namely Fugo, to the point where Giorno expresses fear that Fugo dying without coming to terms with his anger/finding self-worth could cause Purple Haze to run wild like Notorious B.I.G. In a way, I think Mista's both; he has incredible resolve, yes, but it takes the smallest, most arbitrary thing to destroy that confidence. From his manga profile:
So the Sex Pistols are sentient, but unlike Echoes Act III, Spice Girl, or Gold Experience Requiem - who may act outside their user's conscious wishes, but always for the best - the way they behave is sometimes to Mista's detriment. They'll get distracted, fight with each other, feed into Mista's paranoia, and so on.
Going back to that Murolo quote does make me wonder, though - based on his theory as to why a stand splits into a colony, why aren't some other stands split? It would make a lot of sense for Purple Haze, Moody Blues, and Voodoo Child to be, for instance, because I'd say that Fugo, Abbacchio, and Sheila E all have their own "hollow pits" that shape them as people. Beyond Vento Aureo/PHF, it'd even make sense for Polnareff, Kakyoin, and Jolyne, off the top of my head. I'd even argue, if Keicho's obsession with his ambition is what made Bad Company a colony stand, shouldn't Giorno have a colony stand? Then again, maybe this implies something about Giorno - that, even if he tries to hide it, the people in his life are more important than his dream. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this.
But thank you for bringing this up, this Murolo line lives in my brain rent-free and I've been looking for an excuse to talk about it with regard to Mista forever lol
#i kinda wish we had seen the sex pistols in action in phf. i want to know how this new 'hollow pit' would have changed them#because mista is a changed person and it'd be interesting to see his stand reflect that#jjba#purple haze feedback#jjba headcanons#guido mista#sex pistols#cannolo murolo#sure i'll tag him too
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Saying Goodbye to Mr. Downing
This post contains references to funereal practices.
Yesterday, we said goodbye to my beloved best friend and husband, Patrick. Well, his vessel, I suppose. My Love is right where he’s always lived, tucked just here, in my heart.
I come from no religious background because my mother was and is such a hippie—she would never make such an important choice for a sentient being! I can actually see the offended look on her face at the very idea right now.
So, when it comes to death I’ve kinda had to wing it. I’ve lost quite a few close relatives and dear friends over the years, so this was my sixth cremation and fourth where I was responsible for the details. I used to make some pretty dark jokes about this trend.
Now, though, I see that I was being prepared. I knew what I needed to do to feel I’d fulfilled the primal need to honor, cherish, embrace the enormity of the loss and the change. Obviously, this time is … indescribable, but how I wanted to try to capture just a bit of our magic came to me swiftly.
When Mr. Downing and I would talk about what each of us wanted after death, all he would ever say was some variation of, “Cremation, the rest is whatever you need, baby.”
Thus, I painted my wedding vows to him on a muslin shroud; it was a long process and gave me many hours to consider the words I’d said 17 years ago. Finding that I’d fulfilled every vow, every day for all of our life together is a kind of completion I don’t think I knew existed. While I worked, it felt old, sacred, as if I was inscribing ancient, holy things.
When it was time, I shrouded him and placed a few items from me and letters from family. I chose to send him with his favorite book, an awful, lopsided scarf I’d knitted him 20 years ago that he would wear with pride, *whisper* a pair of my panties, and a dictionary. Why a dictionary? While we were dating, I’d given it to him with the note, “I can never find the words to express how much I love you, so I thought I’d give you all of them.” I can’t find the words for losing him, either, so I figured I should send it with him in a valiant second attempt to express that which defies expression.
The few people who I’d asked to be there helped me place 10 dozen blooms around him so that he was cradled with love and beauty. Then they left the room so that I could be alone with him for the last time, from a certain point of view. I read him the words his friends and family had sent from afar (and grumbled that they’d shaved off his lovely beard).
I told him every day how much I love him, but I figured a few more times would be okay.
Patrick always enjoyed brushing my hair, so it felt right to send that with him, as well. I cut off my braid, placed it over his hands, and kissed him goodbye.
I watched them begin the cremation process and then it was time to go. We said thank you to the person who’d assisted through the steps (amusingly enough named ‘Ren’) and walked out into the bright morning sun.
Among the agony, the fear, the sorrow, the despair, there is now a healing ribbon of peace wound through it all. There was nothing left unsaid or unresolved between us. I have no regrets. It’s a pure grief, I suppose.
Thank you for reading this. I’m grateful to be able to share an accounting of this fixed point in my life.
Please be especially good to your loves today, for me and for Mr. Downing
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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
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