Oh don't look at me like that, girl. I told you I'd make a pilot out of you. I told you that I would determine your schedule. I never said that I would make a combat pilot out of you. That was always what you concluded in that silly little brain of yours. Now get in that cockpit. The cargo isn't shipping itself. It need to be delivered, people's lives depend on it.
Don't fool yourself. I am still a handler. *Your* Handler, and I am perfectly authorized to kick your butt until you break. Now, will you get in that cockpit and bring food to civilians cut off from any other supplies, or do you require a demonstration?
Oh? Getting hit in the chest hurts? Well then, stop whining and get into the cargo mech. And it is a *cargo* mech. Stay on your route and out of trouble. I'm tired of burying my pilots.
The conditioning? You mean the weird sex stuff? Sure. We *can* do that. If you behave yourself, that is.
I ask you again. Do I need to beat the crap out of you, or will you get into the cockpit? Cockpit? Good girl. Be back by twentyonehundred, and I'll treat you like the combat handlers do.
Oh? How I would even know? Silly girl. I used to be a combat pilot myself. I even have Theseus on base, to rescue my girls.
She's a beauty. Salvaged her a couple years ago. Superheavy brawler. To make sure the enemies know the ares accord are conventions, not suggestions. Enough babbling. One kiss and then your outta here.
Bakugou Katsuki has a second quirk but no one knows. He’s determined to keep it that way. Bakugou Cat-suki AU
I’m dipping into the BNHA fandom with Kacchako week! Wish me luck!! I have two stories I’m going to try to write snippets for using the prompts (this first one is a pretty loose interpretation of Villain AU, but bear with me!)
(ao3 link)
Uraraka yawned as she shuffled down the stairs, making her way towards the common room. She reached a tired hand up to her disheveled hair in an attempt to clear it from her face and quickly gave up. It was either very late at night … or very early morning. Uraraka wasn’t too sure but she was awake now and hoped a quick stroll to the downstairs kitchen for a glass of water would help put her back to sleep.
She paused at the threshold to the common area, noticing a light of the television flickering across the room.
There was a cat on the couch.
Uraraka blinked.
It was the cutest cat she had ever seen.
The cat’s eyes met hers. Its wide eyes narrowed and it looked almost offended to be interrupted. Was it watching the TV? she wondered as she turned to the television. It was playing a cooking show. On the screen a chef skillfully cut through the body of a red snapper, expertly butchering the fish.
She was either dreaming or just really really tired. Whichever it was she burst out laughing, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth—pinkies up so as to not add to the absurdity of the scene and float to the ceiling. Of course a cat would be watching a show about sushi.
When she glanced back at the cat, it was now definitely glaring at her. Uraraka’s eyebrows rose in shock.
Had Koda brought in another pet? She didn’t recall hearing about it, but she thought about his cute little bunny made her wonder if a bunny and cat would be able to get along. Just the thought alone made her squee to herself just imagining how adorable the interactions could be!
Collecting herself with a wide smile, she slowly approached the couch and the cat immediately hissed. Uraraka balked at the tiny creature. It was so small, it seemed more appropriate to call it a kitten if anything. It’s pale fur was long and wispy, and it looked so soft, despite the way it spiked chaotically in clumps along its small frame. It must’ve been about seventy-five percent fur; a little cloud of fluff. She wanted to pet it so bad.
Uraraka wasn’t too well versed with the various types of cat breeds. She had friends back home with pet cats but she never had one. When she was younger she had asked her parents over and over for a pet, a cat being at the top of that list, but it was always something that they ever got around to, most likely due to their financial situation and Uraraka eventually stopped asking.
Not wanting to spook the little kitten, that looked so small on the large green couch, Uraraka tip-toed her way towards the kitchen. With the light of the television and the brightness of the moon shining through the window, she was able to make her way through the dark room. Still, the cat kept its eyes on her, tracking her movement. Its pupils were so wide and dilated, Uraraka couldn’t even make out their colour.
She couldn’t help herself, even with the intimidating look on the cat’s face, she just had to pet it. Her hand reached forward gently, hoping it was welcoming as she made her way back to the couch.
“Pspspspspspsps” she whispered. “Here kitty, kitty.”
The cat stood up, hackles rising. It’s little tail puffed out behind it as she inched closer and closer.
Perhaps she was testing her luck. The poor little kitten was probably acting out of fear. It was just so teeny tiny. Of course it would be frightened by some stranger approaching it.
So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the kitten swatted at her. Its sharp little claws scratched across her palm.
“Oh you little—!” Uraraka jumped back. This was definitely not a dream as a sting of pain tingled against her skin. She let out a string of curses, not having to hold back as no one but that damn cat was there to witness her unfiltered language of profanities. Perhaps it was a habit she had picked up on the many visits she had taken to her parents construction sites or maybe she had been hanging out around Bakugou too much and had somehow managed to have absorbed the violent boy’s choice expletives without even noticing.
Either way, the cat seemed absolutely ecstatic at her reaction or it was just preparing to bite her as it bared its teeth at her in a way that looked like a rueful grin.
“Little fucker,” Uraraka glared at it, muttering under her breath as she moved to the kitchen. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute!” she said over her shoulder. She turned on the lights and went to the sink to run her hand under some water.
The scratch wasn’t very deep in the end, just a superficial wound that looked more painful than it actually was. The cat was just skittish, maybe it was just a stray that had somehow found shelter in their dorms. Poor thing.
Feeling a little (a lot) guilty, Uraraka opened the fridge, trying to think of an appropriate peace offering for her new acquaintance. She poured some milk out into a bowl before grabbing herself a glass of water.
When she turned back towards the living area of the common room she realized the TV was off now. Had she imagined it being on?
“Kitty,” she whispered, looking at the empty couch. “Cute kitty! Where’d you go?”
She continued pspspsps-ing around the common area, bowl in hand but the cat must have left or was just really good at hiding. Sighing, Uraraka eventually gave up, yawning as she stood up from looking under the dining tables.
“Okay kitty,” she called once more, placing the bowl on the floor. “I’ll leave this here for you! Good night!”
Uraraka made her way back up to her room, pausing before she reached the hall to the stairs. She glanced down at her hand and the little cuts running perpendicular to the lines of her palm, sprinkled with small beads of blood.
She closed her hand into a fist to stop the bleeding, it would be easy enough to clean up once she got to her room. The memory of the cute, little kitten still fresh in her head, she wondered where it had gone. Was it scared and lonely? Was it lost? Even as tired as she was, she felt a sudden flow of determination run through her. She was going to try her best to figure it out (after a few hours of sleep). But paramount above all else she had one main goal in mind.
Next time she saw that cat, she was going to pet the hell out of it.
Bakugou waited, counting out the minutes after he had heard the stairwell door finally close. Once he was sure she was gone, he stretched, leaping out from behind the TV and resettling himself on his spot on the couch.
As he moved, the crack and shift of his bones echoed with an unbearable itch under his skin. All he knew was that in this form it was minutely easier to deal with, especially late at night, when sleep evaded him.
His mistake was thinking that he would be the only one up at this hour to come down to their dorm’s common area. He could only hope that Uraraka would wake up in the morning with no memory of their encounter. But with his luck, it would have been more appropriate for his shitty secondary quirk to transform him into a black cat at this point, but no he couldn’t even have that. Instead his quirk allowed him the power to shift into a small as fuck, shitty, little kitten. How lame.
His stupid tail flicked in annoyance and he glared at it. In this form his sweat wasn’t even the same, completely negating his explosion quirk. It was awful. He lifted up a stupid paw, hating the stupid little toe beans that faced him. He groaned, but it came out as a pathetic mewl, further adding salt to the wounds on his ego.
Finally deciding he wasn’t going to stay in the common room any longer, Bakugou stood up on his four legs, jumping lithely from the couch. When he rose back up, he was on two legs: two human legs. He rolled his neck, flexing his shoulders as he tried to feel at home in his own body. The odd itch in his bones that had manifested within him along with this lame secondary quirk just years ago had only increased day by day. Nothing he did—short of transforming into his kitten form—seemed to quell the ache. And he refused to have to rely on being a cat for hours every day. He had more important shit to do, especially if he wanted to be the next Number One Hero.
But it didn’t matter, the pain was manageable for now. He was just being a weak little bitch tonight and had given in despite his better judgement. No matter how bad it got there was no way he was going to let anyone know about his shitty, kitty powers. The embarrassment alone would ruin him and becoming Number One Hero with kitten powers? Villains would laugh their asses off. No one would be able to take him seriously.
He walked over to the bowl of milk Uraraka had left on the floor. She was such a slob. Granted he may have gone too far in scratching her, but he had warned her with his hissing. It was her fault if she didn’t know when to back off.
What was she expecting? For him to suddenly warm up to her with the offer of milk? To lap at the bowl like some common house pet? Fuck that. Besides, he tried to avoid eating while in his cat form anyways, he didn’t want to risk any dietary limitations in this puny body and he sure as fuck wasn’t about to eat cat food or some shit.
Whatever.
He just needed to stop using this quirk. Just ignore it until he forgot about it. And luckily Uraraka would forget about this whole night too.
Grumbling to himself, he poured out the milk into the sink, washing the bowl quickly. Once his hands were dry, his palms started sparking out of irritation. Bakugou made his way back to his room, knowing he had a few hours of rolling around restlessly in his bed until dawn.
Surprisingly, that night, sleep wasn’t as difficult to reach as he had expected. In those few short hours, he dreamt of soft hands and padded fingers running through his fur and for a moment, the ache in his bones was gone …
Only for it to come back tenfold in the morning when he awoke.
Handler who only only continues because her pilots need her. Handler who wishes she could just abduct her weapons and settle down. Handler who knows her pilots wouldn't be able to.
Handler who knows other handlers treat their pilots much worse.
Handler who keeps breaking in new pilots so nobody else can. Handler who knows she's over her limits.
Handler who doesn't know her older pilots are so very grateful to have her.
Pilots who want nothing more than to murderhug their handler and force her to pace herself.
First off, this one is still learning, but findings so far.
Sharp knives. Proper sharp. Scalpels are good alternative.
Also, if you want to do more than like a couple lines: get multiple blades. They dull quickly. Dull blades still hurt, but the result are. Underwhelming.
As for what scalpels:
no. 11 work well for very straight and long lines. Horrible for small curvy lines.
no. 10 are good if you need smaller works.
Screw around, find what works.
Should go without saying: disinfect before AND afterwards.
(Subs also squeal nicely when you rub in the disinfectant.)
Semi of topic: no 11 scalpels,,,,, FUCK. Just the perfectly straight lines, the angles, that light angle at the top, the sharp one at the tip,,, hnmnggg,,, the way the lower blade end sticks out,,,
Also. Another tip: scalpels can be gotten with one time handle. Cheaper up front. Or as blades by themselves, which you then use a metal handle for. More expensive up front, but you can get the blades in pack of 50. (Ahem. This girl got such a pack.)
How to attach the blade to the handle: open up the packing half way. Find the right orientation. Grab the blade inside the package with pliers. Press handle in. Extract blade. Demonstrated with those sexy no11.
Cc: @muzzlesbian might find something useful and or entertaining.
Purpose inhibitors are a class of highly restricted angel drugs. Officially it is only used to facilitate the reeducation treatment of angels with purpose misalignment syndrome.
However, there is quite a significant black market for these drugs. As it allows an angel to temporarily enjoy pleasure without being stung in a thousand places by their Purpose.
Punishments for trafficking purpose inhibitors include being slowly incinerated alive, having your halo be shaved into thin indestructible wire, or being mercifully killed by starvation.
Many think that mechanic and handler are two incompatible jobs. However, this could not be further from the truth.
While yes, a handler can't waste all their time with menial repairs and routine maintenance, the best handlers absolutely NEED to fine tune the mech of their pilot.
Sure. A pilot may have preferences for what to use, but in the end, it has to be their handler who has to make the call, for better or for worse.
Besides. Being a mechanic means a handler won't have to exercise as much while still being more than capable of womanhandling their pilots, should said pilot get any stupid ideas such as freedom or that pesky individuality.
"Name: Eris Hemlock. Pilot Registration: Heavy Assault 273. Avalon's Butcher", my so new Handler rattled down as I entered her room. Long blonde hair, gentle voice, unassuming build. Terran? Either way, she probably wouldn't be much of a match for me.
"Yes, that is me. What about it, Handler?" Snarky. Ill advised. But I couldn't resist.
Whether she picked up on it, neither her face nor voice would tell. "It's standard procedure. A tiny isle of stability before we go off the rails." Oh. Great. She thinks she's found a secret new approach. What fresh hells await me this time?
"For now, show me your mouth, seven three." She put on some medical latex gloves as she got up from her chair. Her hand gently tugged on my jaw, but I did not budge a millimeter. "Please. I just want to see for myself what damage my predecessors have done to you poor thing."
Liar!
"Please girl. I promise I won't hurt you."
"And why on the gods stars should I trust your treacherous kind? You're a Handler", I hissed out through my clenched teeth. Or rather, what remained of them.
My new Handler breathed a long exhausted sigh and took off her gloves again. "Fine. You'll go under soon anyways, and we'll fix them."
"LIAR!" Yelling at a Handler is never a good idea. But their incessant lies were just too much to bear, punishment be damned.
…
Punishment that… didn't come? Wait. What? Oh no. Is she's the type to pent it up and release it all at once?
She scuttled through the room, took a blister full of pills from a drawer, a glass from the cupboard and filled it up with water. "Painkillers. If I tell you to take some, will you do it, please?", she worried. Either that, or she was a decent actor. Not unheard of for her kind.
"You're gonna make me take whatever you want. Why ask?" My sneering earned me yet another frustrated sigh from my Handler.
She pressed a pill out of the blister. "I will not force you. Not in my rooms. Please. I know you're in immense pain. Take it. Please."
"What is actually in there? Hallucinogens? Deliriants? Narcotics?"
"Girl. It's literally just painkillers."
"Prove it."
Her delicate hands popped another pill out of the blister. "Ok. How about this. I give you two of them. You give one back to me, I'll take it, prove that I swallowed it, and I'll ask you again to take the other. Would that be enough for you?"
"Whatever. Fine." I fetched the pills out of her hands and thoroughly inspected them for any differences. "Close your eyes and open your mouth." Strangely enough, she obeyed. I split both pills and gave her one half of each. Still no resistance. Water. She swallowed and opened up her mouth without command. Checked in her cheeks, under her tongue, but no more pills.
Fuck it. Painkillers sound nice. I swallowed the remaining halves with minimal water.
"Feeling better?", Handler politely asked.
"Yes. What the hell did you put in there? Is it addictive?" Only half sarcastic. Regular painkillers usually didn't achieve nearly as much.
"No. Not addictive. However it isn't good for you long term either. But since we're gonna at least fix the teeth soon-"
"AS IF! You're just gonna keep saying that for years."
Finally, something cracked. Her voice got louder and firmer, although she still didn't shout, "Look. I know my predecessors have abused you."
"And you want me to, what? Just believe you're any different?"
"No, but I plan on earning your trust in time."
"How?"
"As long as I am assigned to you, I will keep you safe. To facilitate that, you will follow my orders outside and on deployment."
"You wish!"
"Please, I wasn't finished yet. As a reward, if we are alone in my quarters, you get to do with me whatever you want." She stared into my eyes. "Do we have a deal?"
