#this is really long just a warning

[stergeon]

enbarr, sometime in 1186:

ok so @frozenartscapes made this addition to my post about byleth and edelgard writing each other letters all the time, right:

well i kind of lost my mind and now we're here.

i'm sure this meeting is salvageable :0) hubert's sanity, however,

[egophiliac]

taps head can't get a badly-compressed shadow if you take the shadow out of the gifs

(this is not an edit, I drew him from scratch! please do not tag or treat as an edit!)

anyway, I did another little guy to go along with Najma and Che'nya! I...actually made him last year as a livestream project, so some of you might remember him (and that I eventually ragequit because it was 5 AM and the meshes were not cooperating). and, uh, then I forgot to actually go back and finish him, until Tamashina-Mina reminded me! ...sorry Cheka!

[wheres-hoid]

This is an RE: Dracula (Bloody FM) appreciation post 💕💕

[randomshiptime]

credit to randomlifelog24 on X/Twitter, account deleted

[sysig]

Wuh oh (Patreon)

Bonus:

The novel experience of being crushed by a giant rock, a visual metaphor

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

[drawingwithegg]

this is from when i read a fanfic and drew my interpretation of their designs from it! i dont believe i was actually accurate to what the text describes, but this is what i pictured my entire time reading it lol

[shady-tavern]

A Dash of Villainy within a Hero, Part One

Some warning ahead for attempted kidnapping, non-con drug use (not on the main character) and attempted murder, as well as being stuck under a collapsed building in the beginning, please take care of yourselves.

Edit because I'm a forgetful gremlin: This story was inspired by one of the prompts @entrophiceffects sent in. Thank you for that!

***

In all honesty, being stuck under a collapsed building with a villain was rather high on your 'would like to avoid' list, though it was just a tick above 'being stuck under a building alone'. At least you had your mandated mask with you to avoid breathing in anything bad.

Sadly, you weren't stuck with a two-bit villain or a newbie or someone you could have brushed aside. Instead, you were forced to try and keep your distance – as much as the small space allowed – to Madness.

Madness was a very dangerous, very high profile villain. The sort of villain that came with a file big enough to commit murder with. The sort of villain no hero was supposed to take on alone.

You stared at him as he shifted restlessly, the pocket the two of you were in just big enough for him to stand up. Neither of you dared to move much though, and you had to admit you had never seen the villain as tense as he was now.

Madness had never once bothered with a mask or helmet like other villains and heroes. He had always blatantly displayed his face, though no one had been able to find out anything about him either. Not his name or place of birth, not even a damn picture anywhere in any records.

If he ever went shopping he did so without being seen.

His face, right now, was a rigid grimace of badly suppressed fear and you had no idea if he had some sort of claustrophobia or if he was scared of the building collapsing the rest of the way. Which, fair enough.

The only reason you weren't visibly freaking out yourself was that your best friend was right outside. Song was guaranteed to have left to go get help, which meant you just had to avoid doing anything that would disrupt the fragile stillness of the space around you. 

You just had sit tight and wait and not think about the building that could finish collapsing at any moment. Deep down, you hoped it would at least be a fast death.

So you hid your shaking hands by pressing them against your slightly trembling thighs and you forced your breathing to remain slow and steady despite your fearfully pounding heart. The way The Defenders taught all their heroes to handle themselves if they were ever stuck somewhere dangerous and had to wait for help.

It was weird, though. The building would have never crumbled had your fellow hero Quake not misaimed his powers. Which was strange, like all heroes Quake had gotten thoroughly trained by The Defenders to ensure he had his powers perfectly under control. They were meant to rescue civilians after all, not endanger them. Or each other.

That Madness had gotten caught in the line of fire had been...unfortunate, to put it mildly. Or maybe Quake had aimed for him in the first place and had just...what, overlooked you?

You had to admit that you didn't like Quake very much. He was clearly interested in your best bud Song and was trying to flirt with her. Song found him nice enough without being interested in more, but something about him rubbed you the wrong way. 

Or maybe you were just a bit of a jealous twat, since he never wanted you around whenever he talked to your best friend.

"Sit down," you said after watching Madness twitch again. "Take a deep breath."

Madness' gaze snapped to you, sharp and dangerous as always. "What, are you worried I'm going to do something inadvisable?" Ho boy, he was high strung. Not that you could blame him.

The truth was, you didn't really worry about him lashing out. While you had absolutely no defenses against Madness' powers – barely anyone did – you actually had the upper hand in the current situation. 

If Madness made you go, well, mad, you were liable to disrupt the space around you and kill the both of you by making this pocket cave in. You, on the other hand, only needed one touch and he'd be out like a light.

"I'm not worried about you," you said, trying to aim for reassuring and ending up sounding just a little tense and annoyed instead. 

It was hard to sound nice and sweet and calming while being stuck under tones of concrete and steel and glass and wood. Besides, this was a man who had left plenty of your colleagues recovering from severe injuries. You weren't really interested in being nice to him of all people.

Madness raised a brow and studied you for a second, seemingly distracted from his intense tension for a moment. "Curious. I would have thought you heroes would pick fights no matter what. Even when it's ill advised."

You frowned at him. "Says the man who messes with anyone's head." Just this morning, before this entire awful situation, he had brought his powers down on an entire street, causing mindless panic and mayhem among civilians.

"Temporarily," he said with a careless shrug. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like they'll remember the nightmares I put into their heads once they snap out of it."

While that was true, people never remembered why they had screamed their heads off and ran away in a blind panic, they still got hurt. Madness might not break minds, but he certainly caused his fare share of broken bodies. 

It was nothing but dumb luck that people hadn't yet run into traffic in their mad, uncontrollable fear and desperation. Either that or he was calculating enough that the chance of such injury was low. Low but never impossible.

"But people do get hurt," you pointed out. 

Madness smiled and it looked more like a baring of teeth. "Isn't that what heroes are for," he said sarcastically. "Saving all these innocents."

Dark anger sparked to life like the sudden fall of a hammer onto hot iron. It spread sharp and fast and you had always been bad at holding back when someone pissed you off. Song was always the one to either intervene or soften you back down from the jagged edges that rose to coat your tongue whenever you got furious.

"I don't want to always be saving people," you snapped out and for just a brief second Madness looked surprised and taken aback. "I don't want to clean up your messes just because you decided to be an asshole."

"Then why be a hero?" Madness asked, shifting to adjust his stance, the tension in his body ramping up. He was ready for a fight. "If you don't care."

"I do care," you answered with growing anger, words hard and fast, like an animal snapping its teeth. "But don't you dare push the responsibility of your actions onto me." 

You were ready to act yourself, as stupid as it was to fight here, but the anger bit deeper and sharper, spilling out all the words you wished you could say when days were dark and grim. When villains gloated and blamed and gaslit and did anything but take responsibility.

When Song didn't get out of bed, fighting with lingering pain after a villain had shattered both her legs and it had taken both multiple surgeries and heroes with healing powers to get her walking again. When you wanted to shout at people to stop being at each other's throat. To stop making their quarrels your problem by targeting innocents.

A muscle in Madness' jaw ticked and his pale violet eyes became a dark lavender, his power suddenly heavy and cloying in the air. 

"And yet you heroes insist on carrying the world on your shoulders," he sneered, voice growing low with his own anger. "You meddling, self-righteous pricks. Maybe you should have thought about what you are actually capable of before you took up the mantle."

"And you don't get to be a piece of shit and walk away saying 'oh, but I only was shitty because you didn't stop me'." You even ended up doing a mock-low voice as you snarled back at him, your voice coming out with an intensity you had only ever been capable of in emergencies.

Madness lifted his chin, looking ready to throw hands, when there was the grind of concrete and both of you fell silent, nervously watching the ceiling. He coughed as some more dust rained down between the cracks, grimacing at whatever taste was coating his tongue.

You had a spare mask, every hero did, but you didn't particularly want to hand it over. Not to him, not to this asshole. But Song would.

Taking a deep breath that came out more like an aggravated sigh, you grudgingly reached into your back pocket and pulled out the spare mask. 

You knew Song would have offered it to Madness right away, but she was always the better one between the two of you. There was a reason why she was your anchor and lodestone. Your compass when your mind grew dark and your heart wavered. When you felt like you couldn't trust yourself to keep doing the good thing.

When, for once, you wanted to pay back every inch or hurt you and your friend had to endure. When you wanted to take your pound of flesh from the villains, instead of having it ripped from your mind and body by them.

You would never agree with others that being a hero meant sacrificing, meant burdening yourself and living only to rescue and protect others. And you would most certainly never bend and concede to villains.

"Here," you tossed the mask at Madness, who caught it with the sort of startled expression that told you he had expected something dangerous. You didn't bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes. "Now sit down and play tic-tac-toe with me, asshole."

"What." It came out flat, but he did put the mask on and once you folded your legs to sit cross-legged, he ever so slowly did the same.

You drew a little grid into the dust and after an incredulous look, Madness caved. It became obvious very quickly that both of you were competitive assholes and you upgraded from tic-tac-toe to checkers with little pebbles and at last chess.

You were shoddy at chess though and no challenge, so you went back to checkers. You were on your tenth round when there was a rumble in the air. You easily recognized the sort of shift in gravity and density that heralded telekinetic powers and you breathed a sigh of relief. Help had come.

At the same time, there was a dull whirring sound from below. A moment later, the ground shifted beside Madness and very slowly and very carefully, a little robot dug its way out.

"Found you!" the robot exclaimed with a voice you could identify easily enough as Doctor's. Huh, you hadn't known the two villains were allies. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Is that safe?" Madness asked and the robot made a little pffft noise, already burrowing back into the hole. It was frighteningly fast in widening it far enough for a person of Madness' stature to squeeze through like a worm. 

"I'll drag you," the robot said cheerfully, small arms extending to grab Madness around the collar. "Let's go!"

"Bye," Madness managed to say as he was pulled into the hole. Just in time as well, for the rubble shifted, power humming in the air, creating an opening for you to duck through.

You hurriedly left the space behind and the second you emerged from that little pocket, strong arms wound around you, crushing you against a soft chest and tough armor, while big wings wrapped around you.

"Hey, Nightingale," you said quietly into her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, breathing a sigh of relief. Your voice came out trembling, "Knew you'd get me out."

"Always," she answered and hid you with her wings until all the repressed fear and worry and tension shivered out of you. Since she didn't usher you into an alley or anything of the sort for privacy, no one was around to ask why the two of you were hugging for such a long time.

When at last you pulled back, she asked, "What happened to Madness? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he got away," you said, which was true enough. You cast her a look that told her you'd tell her everything later and she threw an arm over your shoulders, one of her wings coming up to curl around you. 

Her wings were beautifully big, arching over her head and each one was easily as large as she was. She always kept them tight to her spine when she was walking outside, to avoid the ends trailing in the dirt. That was why the two of you kept your shared apartment very clean so she could relax at home at least. 

She led you out from the rubble sheltered corner and you saw that only one other hero was around. Gravitos, who must have been the one to dig you out. She was on her phone, talking to The Defenders, you'd guess, saying that no one else was in the area and that crews could arrive to clean up and clear the street.

"You good?" she asked and when you nodded, offered a small smile. "I'm glad. Man, but Quake is lucky the building was closed for renovations. Otherwise we'd have a lot of deaths on our hands."

Which would most likely cost Quake his Defender contract and official hero license. You still had no idea if he had planned to hit the building like that, but either way, the way he had used his powers had been negligent at best.

Gravitos accompanied you back to The Defenders headquarter, the large hero hiring company where pretty much everyone was under contract. It was for the best really, the company protected heroes from lawsuits – unless it was proven they acted maliciously – and offered all the gear, gadgets and medical care they needed.

After a quick check-in in the med bay and debrief with your superior, you were ready to get out of costume and go home. Song didn't leave your side, staying close enough that you felt the brush of her wing every so often. It was reassuring and calming. 

If she strayed too far, you suddenly felt the weight of the building around you and you felt fear seize your heart again. You just wanted to go home, where no one would look at you. No one would stare and judge and you could sit outside. Maybe even sleep outside tonight.

"Nightingale!" Quake's voice made the two of you pause and you felt a fissure of irritated tension wrapping around your spine. Quake was friendly and, well, fine, but something about him irked you endlessly. Aside from burying you under ruble, that was.

He offered Song a charming, hopeful smile and while you would never hold her back from a date, she wasn't interested and you hoped he'd get the memo one of these days. Besides, he had once said that he found it weird that you two were such good friends.

'It's almost like you're more than that,' he had once said. As if friendships couldn't be just as meaningful as romantic relationships.

Song was your family and she had been your best friend since her first day in middle school. After moving to the city and being the pretty, tall, winged new girl, she could have had any friend she wanted, but the second she had seen you being bullied, she had taken your side.

You still vividly remembered the large wings, arching to shield you and force your bullies to back up or get whacked in the head, feathers fluffing to make her look even bigger.

No one had ever stood up for you, but here she was, defending you with unyielding ferocity. She had remained at your side afterwards, one wing always slightly extended and for the first time, you didn't have to worry about anyone tossing anything at your back.

And there she had stayed throughout the day and there she had been the next day and before you had known it, you had your first proper friend since kindergarten. Elementary school had been fine, but you hadn't really clicked with any of the kids there and middle school had swiftly become your waking nightmare.

Until Song and her steadfast loyalty and fierce friendship. The two of you had stuck together through anything and everything and you were a package deal. Both of you had made sure to haggle for team contracts when The Defenders had hired you.

Besides, while Song was fast and strong, her true power laid in her voice. She was one of the few who could go up against Madness' abilities, but she needed a little bit of time for her voice to unfold fully. 

Which was where you came in. You were fast and maybe you were a bit vicious and mean when it came to villains. You ensured nothing and no one interrupted her, that she wouldn't have to worry about protecting her own back.

Besides, if people focused on Song, they forgot to focus on you and you had possibly smirked a bit too much when you had taken those folks out. It wasn't your fault they forgot that, while Song could sing an entire street asleep, you needed but a touch to knock people out or leave them unable to fight with your electricity.

One of Song's wings arched to settle around you again as she stared down Quake. "Sorry, Quake, we're on our way out. Besides, I think you owe my friend an apology."

He suddenly looked chagrinned and bashful. "Sorry," he muttered at you. You couldn't help but think that he didn't really mean it. Then again, you were too tired to go and pick a fight, so you just hummed something that could be vaguely interpreted as acceptance.

Quake immediately turned back to Song. "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to meet up later."

So he was finally asking her out directly. It was a surprise that he had waited that long, considering is somewhat brash personality, but maybe he was just a little shy when it came to romance. Or Song intimidated him, she could be just as brash in return after all.

"Sorry, no," Song said, wing settling more firmly around you, surrounding you in warmth and softness and the familiar scent of fresh air and sunshine.

"The weekend, then?" Quake asked hopefully and Song shook her head, not even pretending to think about it. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"No, thank you," she said more firmly and you saw his smile flicker, before he shrugged, pretending to be unaffected.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind," he said and quickly stepped back, leaving with a wave.

Song gently pushed you onward with her wing. "I was hoping he'd give up on his own. Come on, let's go home."

Song ordered some takeout on the way home, which arrived a couple of minutes after you finally were back in your cozy apartment. It was bigger than most people would consider necessary for two people, but Song's wings needed space and you didn't want her to feel cramped. 

Besides, a hero's salary at your level was nothing to sneeze at, so you might as well get a place where you both could stretch out and be comfortable.

You spent the evening on the couch with her, sheltered under a big, warm wing and your comfort movies playing on TV one after another.

"Madness was stuck with me," you ended up mumbling as, at last, you felt your exhaustion catch up with you. "He was an asshole."

"No surprise there," Song said and you slumped a bit more against her side, your head on her shoulder. "How did he get out?"

"Doctor came for him," you murmured, eyes falling shut. "Didn't know they got along."

If she answered, you didn't hear her as you swiftly fell asleep. You did have nightmares, but every time you woke up, gasping for air and terrified to see a building crumbled above you with the heavy weight of impending death, there were soft, warm wings. 

You clung to the feathers and slowly calmed back down. Song wasn't holding you, but she was close and snoring softly, both wings wrapped loosely around you. They'd be sore in the morning, but you felt helplessly glad that she was here. Keeping you safe in whatever ways she could.

*.*.*

Quake, while having gotten the message that Song wasn't interested, now seemed intent to at least be Song's friend.

Just hers, though, not yours.

You only realized what Quake was successfully trying to do when you started to back off the moment he showed up, giving them space to chat. It was clear he didn't much like you. Song started to frown a little whenever she noticed you leaving, a wing getting extended as an invitation for you to stay.

Frowning to yourself, you wondered if you were too clingy. It wasn't like you spent every day, all day with Song, but you were a team out in the field, which was perfectly normal. There were other duos or even trios or bigger teams that never switched their members out.

"Hey," Song approached you just as you got ready to clock out and head home a month after the collapsed building incident. "Would you mind waiting? Quake said there is a problem with some of the ceiling panels in the training room. Two fell down and one nearly nailed a training newbie in the head." 

She pointedly flexed her wings. "I'll take a look and check if any others are liable to fall, so the training hall can still be used until someone can come in to fix them."

You would have waited for her any other day, but the two of you were low on groceries and depending on how long this took her, the stores might be closed by the time you went home. "I'll head out first and get our fridge stocked back up," you said. "Anything you want for dinner?"

She perked up at that since she hated cooking, but you loved it. "Anything you want. Your food is amazing." Your friend had let you know more than once that she would fully support you if you wanted to switch careers from heroism to being a chef.

"This shouldn't take me too long, hopefully," she said and with a brush of the tip of her flight feathers against your shoulder, she was gone.

You left swiftly and you were already two streets away from the hero headquarters, when you realized you had left your phone in the locker room. Groaning, you turned around and trudged back towards the building.

Instead of taking the main doors and dealing with people you took a side entrance, swiping your card to be let in. The side entrance was usually reserved for people who wanted to avoid attention, especially paparazzi attention.

Quietly slipping through the hallways, you took some backdoors and an old staircase to avoid running into any of your colleagues. You just wanted to dip in, grab your phone and get out without anyone stopping you along the way.

There were plenty of heroes who didn't hesitate to ask others for help with their paperwork. You could freely admit that most of your colleagues sucked at the whole bureaucracy part of the job. 

There were always a couple of heroes stuck in their offices after hours, despairing over documents. Everyone who was done for the day or, god forbid, was actually good at paperwork, learned to get out of dodge fast.

Your quiet path brought you past the communication room and you tip-toed to avoid distracting the people inside accepting calls and alerting heroes about any disturbances or attacks that needed dealing with.

"Dispatching Quake and Nightingale," you overheard a voice say and you paused. "They are taking care of a minor disturbance."

Your nose wrinkled, feeling sorry for Song. That's what happened to anyone who didn't clock out in time. Though, in all fairness, if there was an emergency or a all-hands-on-deck situation, then everyone was called in, no matter what.

You snuck away, lest these guys noticed you and thought you could be dispatched too. You'd make sure to prepare a big dinner for your friend once she came home. You reached the locker room and got your phone without running into a single soul.

You were sneaking down the hall again to leave when you heard a heavy thump and grunt. One of the doors to a small break room was tossed open a moment later.

"Fuck, didn't know she'd be that heavy," a too familiar voice hissed. Quake. Pausing, you frowned and a bad feeling unfolded its wings in your gut. The same bad feeling that had helped you avoid villain attacks in the past. The sort of sixth sense pretty much every hero developed pretty early on.

Shouldn't Quake be heading out? Furthermore, shouldn't Song be with him?

You ducked closer to the wall, just as Quake stepped through the door backwards – dragging your unconscious friend with him. He was grunting and struggling, a wing catching in the doorframe and your heart leapt into your throat. You were moving without much thought and before he could notice you.

All it took was a charged touch to the back of his neck and he went limp, slumping down silently. You caught him and winced as Song fell from his limp arms.

"What the fuck," you whispered, hoisting him over your shoulder to deposit him off to the side. You were quickly checking Song, finding her breathing and heart rate steady. A glance into the room showed two glasses on a side-table, one empty the other mostly full.

Had...had Quake laced her drink? No, surely not. He was a hero. Then again...being a hero didn't mean people couldn't be massive pieces of shit. There had been scandals in the past, after all.

You heard more steps approach from the old, rarely used staircase and you were about to shout for help, when you heard a voice speak up, "He should have waited until she agreed to let him give her a lift home and he had her in his car. How are we supposed to get her to the underground garage with those fucking wings?"

What the fuck was going on here?

You hoisted Song up and back through the door just in time to close it as people rounded the corner.

"Song? Come on, wake up," you hissed, lightly zapping her, but she didn't react. Shit, she really was drugged.

You stared down at your best friend and realized that you had no way of dragging her away before that door got opened by the people outside. Song was heavy, for one. You only came up to her shoulder and she was muscular from long hours of training and flying and her wings were heavy too. 

Each wing was as big as she was after all, and right now they were slumped, lying half open. Just alone getting her through a door would take minutes.

Of course you had trained until you were strong enough to drag her anywhere in an emergency and you knew how to deal with her wings when they were flopping all over the place, but that didn't mean it was a particularly fast process.

Mind made up, you swiftly laid her down her beside the door and hid on the other side. The door opened, swinging in your direction and you had ducked around it and had gotten your hands on the two newcomers before they could spot you or call out.

They thudded to the ground and you stared down at two people you had never seen before. They were not fellow heroes.

Pulling them fully inside and ducking outside to get Quake, you left them tied up and muzzled. They'd be out for a bit, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Rooting through their pockets, you found no ID, but a general keycard for the Defenders building, along with a phone on Quake.

Pocketing that, you went back to Song, gripping her and dragging her outside. You were covered in sweat by the time you managed to, ever so carefully, pull her down the stairs and past the communication hub.

You got Song all the way outside the building and into an alley unnoticed, panting heavily. Your first instinct was to bring her home, but...what was going on here? What if your home wasn't safe anymore? Hissing a curse, you pulled out the phone you had nicked from Quake and opened it.

The instructions you found on it were chilling.

Quake had tried to kill you when he had collapsed a building onto you. Quake was to isolate Nightingale if he didn't succeed in killing you, drug her and contact this number once she was down for the count. 

Quake had done so, which was when the communication center had gotten the message that they were sent out to deal with a problem. Communications never questioned orders if they came from high up, but only then.

Nightingale was to be handed over and this device destroyed. Quake was to head to the spot where the fake mission was supposed to take place and plant all the necessary evidence, as well as blow enough things sky high, that people believed Nightingale had died. 

That they had run into a new, too powerful villain unexpectedly. 

It was recommended to kill you first if possible, so no one would question the story. So no one would look into it any further.

You stared at the phone in complete and utter disbelief. Your mind was blank and still for a long second, then something ugly and panicked rose. Something angry.

You pulled out your own phone, snapping pictures of the conversation, of the instructions, before closing your fingers around the burner phone and frying it so viciously it started to catch fire. Dropping it to the ground, you hoisted Song up again and started dragging her further.

You could not return home, but that didn't mean there weren't other spots you could hunker down in. You hotwired a car in a camera-free zone two streets from the headquarters and stuffed Song in, wincing at the cramped space for her wings. There was a reason she had never bothered with getting a license.

By the time you had Song safely in a little hiding spot the two of you had scouted out a year ago, you were exhausted and your mind had run over everything at least a million times. You watched her closely for any signs that something would go wrong as she laid on her side, wings a bit awkwardly draped.

Something was going on here. Something big and bad and it itched at you to go back and find out more. To question Quake.

When Song stirred, you felt ready to sag in relief and maybe cry a little, but instead the anger amped up a bit. When her eyes peeled open, you were perhaps crackling a little, so charged with electricity that you didn't dare touch her.

"What?" Song slurred and you leaned into her view, her tense expression immediately easing with visible relief.

"Take it easy," you said when she slowly managed to sit up, shifting her wings and nearly knocking one into you. Then her eyes widened and you saw the moment memory flooded back. Her gaze snapped up to you, alarmed and horrified and confused and you pressed your lips together grimly for a moment.

"I think something very bad is going on, Song."

*.*.*

See, most people probably wouldn't go straight back to The Defenders headquarters, but neither Song or you were normal. No hero was, you had all lost your sense for normal levels of danger long ago.

Song was landing on the roof, gliding down the last bit to make the descend silent and smooth. She knew exactly which part of the roof was a camera dead zone.

"Be careful," she whispered, reluctantly pulling back. Song was great at an amazing number of things and you loved her for that, but her wings were not made for sneaking around. She was just too big. "I'll stay close by, so don't hesitate to jump out of a window if necessary."

In case someone caught you, she didn't say. You squeezed her arms before stepping back and she took flight again, while you zapped the keycard pad at the door, carefully controlled, which caused it to swing open.

You were so glad you had trained and trained a stupid amount of hours to be able to do that.

The good part was, accessing the building from the roof meant you were closest to the offices of the higher ups. And someone there had to be involved, in order to inform communications about sending heroes out without consulting them first.

Imagine your surprise, therefore, when you slipped through the door into an ostentatious hallway and you saw a very familiar person skulking about. You had no idea how Madness of all people had made it into the hero headquarters, but he was either going to be a problem or...perhaps you could work together.

Just this once and no more, he was an asshole after all.

He was distracted enough that you actually managed to sneak up to him and when he did notice, you were close enough to press a hand to his back. A silent warning, to keep his powers well away from you. Considering the way he tensed all of a sudden, his muscles flexing beneath your palm, he got the message.

"Not sounding the alarm, hero?" he sneered down at you and you realized belatedly that the moment you'd open your mouth, he'd know exactly who you were. ...well, you had already dug your grave, hadn't you?

"Tic-tac-toe," you ended up whispering back, watching his eyes widen briefly. "You don't fuck me over, I don't fuck you over, deal?"

He paused, frowning, "Why are you sneaking around in your own place of work?"

You smiled grimly. "I guess that happens when someone tries to kidnap my friend from the inside."

He stilled, his head tipping slightly to the side and it became impossible to read his face. You could only tell he was thinking rapidly from the way his gaze was flickering between your eyes.

"Alright," he conceded and you cautiously, carefully, removed your hand. His eyes remained pale though, which was a relief. Then again, if he made you go mad, he'd just blow his own cover.

"Do you know if anyone's still here?" you asked and he actually stepped aside a bit to let you sidle up beside him. Which was so weird. You knew that sometimes villains and heroes worked together briefly, but you never had.

"No," Madness whispered back. "Everyone's home as far as I know."

"Then why are we whispering?" you asked quietly and he sent you a look like he thought you were daft. You rolled your eyes and straightened from your crouch beside the wall.

You knew where the cameras were in this building, because maybe you had been involved in a little prank war last year and you had memorized all the camera positions for the sole purpose of not getting caught.

Madness seemed to have decided to stick by you, for he followed you when you wove your way through the hallway, ducking into the first office. There were six in total, each double the size of your apartment, which was just ridiculous.

"Ugh, rich people," you found yourself muttering as you beelined for the desk and the computer.

The moment you sat down in the chair, Madness braced one hand on the backrest and leaned over to watch what you were doing. As the computer booted up, you reminded yourself to not be an asshole to the person willing to not rat you out.

"What are you looking for?" you asked as you were logged in. The higher ups had their passwords saved by default, it seemed. Either that or they were just lazy. And a little bit careless. "I'll help you look."

Madness was silent for a long moment, then he answered, "I'm looking for the Phoenix Project."

You had never heard of that, but you were willing to look. You found no information on either the project or Song on this computer, so you moved on to the next office.

You had to try all of the computers, before, on the very last one, you finally found something. There was one mail, exactly. It had been sent around the time Quake had contacted the person on the other end of the burner phone that he had Song drugged and ready for pickup.

And without Madness, you would have never discovered the mail. It was sent to an anonymous person, with only one sentence: 'The Phoenix has gained its wings.' Below it was the same time and place for pickup that had been on Quake's phone.

"Is that all?" Madness asked, still hushed. He sounded less than pleased. "Are you certain?" But his tone of voice said he knew this was it, he had looked over your shoulder the entire time after all.

"I think we may have to talk," you said quietly, mind whirring. There was something going on, something big. You leaned back a bit to look up at him. "What say you to a temporary truce?"

"Why?" Madness asked with an undertone of sharpness. His smile was unfriendly. "I thought you didn't like me."

You smiled back just as sharply and humorlessly. "I don't." Your mock-smile fell away. "But whatever you're looking into, they were trying to kidnap my friend and sell her as dead to the rest of the world. They tried to kill me too, back when that building collapsed, so no one would look for her."

Madness grew serious, the tense antagonism falling away. "And here I thought it was just my pretty head they wanted dead." He tipped his head again, peering down at you, weighing how honest you were. How willing he was to exchange information.

 He stepped back. "Alright. Truce." He then smirked at you. "Let's see if your cute little hero heart can take the truth."

You wondered if it was too late to snap at his throat like an enraged woverine. "We'll see if your lying villain tongue is capable of telling the truth."

His eyes narrowed and you stared back at him, once again in a stalemate where you were close enough to knock him out before he could use his powers. You knew he was the more powerful one between the two of you, normally. That he could leave you a screaming, sobbing mess and you could do nothing about it.

But right now, you had an edge you wouldn't have otherwise.

"We'll just have to see, won't we," Madness muttered back.

The sudden clack of a door opening down the hall and voices filtering in made both of you flinch. You reached out to yank out the power cord of the computer, making it go dark. 

Madness shifted beside you, looking ready to fight. "How do you plan to get us out of here?"

You tipped your head towards the window and smiled. "Afraid of heights?"

"Not in the slightest," he said, stepping back to let you stand up. He didn't look away from you and neither did you take your gaze off of him. "Why?"

You forced yourself to break eye contact and head to the window, yanking it open and hopping up onto the windowsill. You hesitated, then held out your hand.

"Are you willing to trust a hero?"

He stared at your hand, then glanced over his shoulder at the voices coming closer. It was impossible to overhear individual words, but it sounded like an argument. He looked back at you, his face impossible to read.

He didn't answer, just reached out to grasp your hand back. He allowed you to pull him close and it became a very squished situation, with both of you crouching on the windowsill. The ground was very, very far away. He was tense beside you, staring down, while you scanned the sky.

The voices in the hallway grew closer still and his tension ramped up. That was when you spotted Song ever so faintly and jumped, pulling him with you.

To his credit, he did not let go of your hand, not as you fell and not when Song swooped in to catch you, carrying you away into the night.

You were surprised that he had been willing to trust you at all and maybe, grudgingly, you respected him a bit for that. Still, you could admit that holding a villain's hand was definitely a first for you.

And, well. Maybe, just maybe, you weren't going to regret offering him a hand when it was all said and done.

Part Two

*.*.*

Tag List:

@those-damn-snippets @the-cash-cache @queenofbooknerds @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @fern-writes-whump @bexterbaileyw @setsailforthestars @piperjistic @addrai @catloverlawyer @permanentlydepressedpigeon @tama-on-vetta @marateleam @transparentdiplomantlandgoth @cheesecakev2 @myst3rious-figur3 @warriorofbooks @aprilraine

[nominote]

"Go on, praise me like a God!"

PNG under the cut

[unordinary-diary]

Blyke in Season 3.

This is my prediction. With the way Season 2 ended, I think they’ll find Blyke months later looking something like this.

Shit happens to people in prison. Terrence was murdered in his cell, Rein was worried about being killed by other inmates, hell, Blyke’s already pretty banged up in the finale and he’s been there for 2.5 seconds. Not to mention that the Authorities seem to have no problem torturing kids *COUgh* Keon.

Perhaps it’s a bit pessimistic, but the story’s been getting a lot darker lately. I doubt Blyke’s getting out of prison without a little extra trauma at least.

Latest Chapter as of Prediction: Side Story — Triple Threat (1)

[sunnys-aesthetic]

Cotl lore rambles below!

Cutting it straight to the point,

This entire post will have spoilers regarding cult of the lamb and the newest dlc The Pilgrim Pack!

you have been warned!

Mind you this probably won't be choesive at all its straight up just notes and theories of mine that ran through my head as i read the comic!!

HHOOKAY. SO THERES A LOT I WANTED TO RAMBLE ON ABOUT BU T LETS START AT THE BEGINNING.

in the bg we can see a huge plume of White smoke. This means a fire was obviously involved, and from the size of it, this HAD to be a ship with multiple other people, because you cant sail a ship that big with just one person. It also made me think about the most recent trailer with the sea freezing over! Was whatever caused *that* the cause of this too? or are they two separate situations?

though it definitely brings the question of why jalala, the unknown people on the boat, and her brother, to have come from such a long way, to a cult infested island?(that apparently outsiders don't know had cults IN it)

2. There being cults is apparently, not normal. (Who woulda thought) but jokes aside, despite the game giving us the norm of there being a cult for every little thing, It was to a point where jalala didn't even know WHO the old faith/Bishops were. And it makes me wonder just how disconnected this island is from other possible ones??

Even Rinor herself probably doesn't know WHY there's cults just that there IS, like its a normal way of life that she's used to, and that's honestly reasonable considering she's mortal and wouldn't know the intricate history about the bishops upbringing or why there's literal gods roaming around that place. Mind you, this comic takes place before you kill leshy!

-

Now, lets rewind time wwwway back, and im talking probably before even the bishops were born, new, or still mortals, its still unconfirmed and up to interpretation! But anywho,

THIS scene, started making the gears in my head turn. What the FUCK is going on in this game and its history and lore, and i mean this in the bEST WAY POSSIBLE. This is a sneak peek into Chemach's history before she lost her mind and became what you would call a 'false god' (just obviously not to her face.) This i was NOT expecting because we haven't seen anything this big depicted until *now*. Who oR WHAT is this.

(SEMI UNRELATED BUT IT TRULY MAKES ME THINK IF THE MYSTIC SELLER IS OF THIS SIZE, BUT DEPICTS HIMSELF AS 'SMALLER' BEHIND THE DOOR.) <insane little headcanon/theory that struck me upon reading.

all of that aside, we get a little preview of what chemach looked like!! She very much picked off of the dying gods to a point of no return and i'm so interested if they will say more on her story. I didnt know this beforehand but apparently the three were made and born for bestowing godly power and never to use it, seeing chemach give in to whatever mindset was eating at her was so :(

Kudaii:

Chemach:

Clauneck:

But I LOVE that we got a preview into the world She, and her two brothers kudaii and Clauneck were born into.

-

also last thing i just want to mention is how much i love this guys design i did not fucking know he was this big. hello. what. hello. h-

anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk

[dantheserialkillerman]

Hiroki Dan X GN!Teacher (one shot)

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader and Age Difference General warning: Medium-length post (1,461 words) TW: Possessiveness/Yandere vibes Characters: Hiroki Dan and You

– There is a theory called The Green World by Northrop Fry. It's actually quite simple. Shakespeare's comedies follow a structure: in spring, the fertility month, the characters transition from the everyday world, faced with societal bondage, to the wild, where everything becomes topsy turvy, back to the ordinary world renewed and unbound. As you skimmed your class, you couldn't help but wonder if the same theory also applied to your life. This moment did feel wild.

– The semester is your first as a teacher at one of Toyko's most highly regarded private high schools, and according to the curious stares from your students, they don't know what to make of you. It sets you on edge. Yet, there is also great excitement as you finally have fulfilled your dream of educating the next generation after years of studying. Is there a word for both terror and elation? Perhaps euphoria? It did once mean to be removed from one's body. However, frisson seems to settle in your mind. Your hair does feel on end.

– One..two...three...breath...one...two...three...breath. You repeat this phrase over and over again as you start your lesson. This subject is your favourite, and not to brag, but you are an expert in this field; the school would have never hired you otherwise, and the parents would have you fired, flayed, and put out front as a warning for everyone else. Even some universities would pale in comparison. These are households of politicians, millionaires, and businessmen. The top of the top and greatness ensures they only produce greatness, or at least the image of it.

– Everything seems to be going well; to your surprise, the kids are actively engaged, yet you cannot help but sense an uneasiness. You feel dissected, like a butterfly being prepped for a display case. When turning around, an intensity makes you pause over a word to prevent a stutter. You swear unseen hands are rushing over your body as if to hold you and say, "Stay still; I deserve to look," for what reason you don't know. It's nerves, you tell yourself, focus on the lesson; you can't mess up the first class.

– But it happens again during the next lesson. Then, the one after that. Again and again until finally, when handing back the first assignment, you meet the cause after class.

– It was Autumn when the weather couldn't decide if it wished to be hot or cold, the leaves turning into a violent swarm of reds and oranges as if the trees were on fire. It had been a long day; you had to send someone to the head office for interrupting class, forgot your lunch, and were stuck grading papers. The only people still here were after-school clubs and occasionally teachers you heard walking in the halls.

– You were so absorbed in your work that you couldn't help but jump when you felt a tap on your shoulder and a soft "Excuse me" in your ear. Looking up in shock, you are surprised to see a man...well, a teenager. Handsome for his age, most likely eighteen and in his final year, with a shock of dark hair and eyes against pale skin, a warm smile breaks the otherwise monochrome facade. An image of Adder Snake flashes in your mind when he tilts his head and beams...it is as if he enjoyed scaring you.

– "Oh, I'm sorry, professor," he places a hand over his heart and straightens, "I merely wanted to get your attention." His eyes are so black that you can see your own startled reflection, and despite being in a more senior position, how small you look compared to this boy. You hate it.

– "It's fine," you look at the clock, "it's past five; shouldn't you be heading home, or is there something I can help you with?" You attempt to clean your desk to make it look moderately presentable. In reality, you wanted to seem busy so you didn't have to look him in the eye again. There was something profoundly unnerving about how he could pin you down with merely a look.

– His hand moves gracefully into his bag and pulls out a piece of paper; you recognize it as the recently returned assignment from your afternoon class. He places it delicately on your desk, atop the other essays you were grading. Pompous little shit, you couldn't help but think. You tilt over and see the grade, a ninety-five, the highest score you gave out recently.

– Picking up the paper, you hold it out for the student to take back, "It was very well-written and researched, particularly the second paragraph. Congratulations..." You quickly glance at the paper, hopefully discreetly, "Hiroki-kun." The name settled in your mouth like honey, sticking to your throat unpleasantly despite how sweet it sounded.

– He leans against the desk, the same plain smile upon his face and a light chuckle escaping his upturned lips. There is an uneasiness in the air, that pressure you felt during the day in increments, dilating in this very moment.

– "Thank you," he moves closer, and you realize the door is closed; who shut it? "But I wanted to ask," Closer, "what could I have done to have gained that extra five percent?"

– "I..." You feel speechless, your face hot from panic, "Well...you could've shortened it, perhaps?" Say anything to get him to leave.

– "That's it?"

– "It was written very well; I wouldn't worry about your grade."

– He takes the paper and folds it absent-mindedly, "I will take it to heart," as if to prove it, he holds the essay to his chest, "You are my favourite teacher here, and any advice you give me is a great help." To your horror, he looks somewhat bashful. Yet, it would be a lie to say it didn't stroke your ego.

– You clear your throat, "Thank you, but it is getting late-"

– "Let me walk you to your bike." You wonder how he knew you biked to school? "My father is the police superintendent General, and I am also heading out; I don't want someone so..." He looks down to where you are sitting, "vulnerable to walk outside by themselves."

– You weighed the options in your head. Saying no could hurt your reputation; this was the kid of a high-ranking official, and if you pissed off Daddy, you would be fired on the spot. Was it unnerving and inappropriate? Yes. But you couldn't think of a way to worm your way out of this dilemma. It was a true dichotomy.

– "I wouldn't want to burden a young man like yourself...."

– His smile stretched wider, so vast you could count each pearly white tooth. What big teeth you have..." It would be my pleasure."

– Hiroki demanded to carry your briefcase and, while you walked, asked miscellaneous questions about your life. How old are you? Do you live alone? Are you Married? How far do you live from campus? You tried to answer him subtly, attempting to dodge the questions with little skill. You cursed the school for being so big and your pupil for being such a slow walker.

– Ten minutes later, you reach your bike. Or where it should have been. Nothing but the chain was attached to the fence. You look around and quickly conclude that someone has stolen it. Man, I'm a fucking genius, you thought sarcastically, but you had to Act professionally. Act bloody professional. Oh, God, how in the living hell would you get back to your dingy little apartment?

– "People these days," Hiroki shook his head, "my father has been trying to tamper down the rise in petty crime such as this," he slung your case over his shoulder, "but it seems he has a long way to go."

– You pushed your forehead in stress, "It's fine, I'll just take public transport." And it would be awful in that crowded cart filled with annoyed people.

– "Nonsense," He turned and started to walk towards the parking lot; in confusion, you began to follow him, "I own a car, and someone like yourself wouldn't be safe on public transport." He looked over his shoulder, and you felt your stomach sink, "I'll drive you home." Shit.

– "It's fine, really. Plus, you're a student-"

– "My father would never forgive me if I left you in such a state. Alone. Defenceless. I mean," He stopped and turned. Suddenly, you recognized how tall and broad he was as he towered over you. "I could attack you right now, and you would have no way to defend yourself." His left eye twitched softly like he trying to keep a particular thought at bay, and you felt your lungs freeze, "But you're lucky," He chuckled, "I would never harm my favourite teacher." The air seemed to stop momentarily as if the sky held its breath for what he would say next. "I only want to do a good deed," Another laugh, "They make me feel blessed," and softly grabbing your hand and bringing it to his cheek, he tilted his head into your palm, whispering, "Won't you bless me, teacher?"

– You wondered if Northrop Fry had a theory on Shakespearian tragedy. What dark world were you being brought into by those eyes?

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 3/7)

PART 3 RAAAAGH!!! SO SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG AAAH!!!! But it's here now, yippee!!! And just in time for Christmas too, wowie!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

Designs under the cut!

GRACE:

The light scars/ cracks on her body were injuries formed while she was accidentally sent through Turo's time machine. Unlike the paradox pokemon/ miraidon, GrAce's body isn't made of iron or metal, so her body wasn't able to withstand the large amount of tera energy used to power the machine as easily as the paradox pokemon were.

Luckily, she was just barely able to hold out against the time machine's energy until she made it to Turo's lab in the present day. Unfortunately, she can't be sent back because she would literally die if she went through the time machine again. Sooooo she's stuck in the modern era.

Very familiar with Area Zero and the various pokemon that reside down there, but moved out in order to continue producing music as well as familiarize herself with current-day Paldea.

She only vaguely know Clavell back when he was a rebellious teenager, though she didn't know his name. Clavell, on the other hand, was one of her biggest fans back in the 50s-60s.

Funny enough, when she sees "Clive" for the first time, she recognizes him! But not as Director Clavell, she just barely recognizes him as the random teenage fan that would occasionally ask her to sign various GrAce posters he had bought. She is also under the belief that he too, was sent from the past into the present, unaware that he simply just grew up.

Likes doing random poses for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

BRAIDY:

Believes that everything can be solved without violence, but can and will throw hands if need be.

Everyone in Braidy's family greet each other by playfully ramming into one another. So when Peppy and his team were getting chased down by Braidy's family during their journey, they weren't trying to attack them, they just wanted to say hi!

Braidy is really good with kids due to his experience with being the eldest sibling, as he'd often have to take care of his younger siblings.

Mykyie and Braidy shop at the same clothing store.

Speaking of Mykyie, the lighter parts of Braidy's fur appeared only after Mykyie passed...

As of now, he's still an apprentice, but he has great potential to become an all powerful wizard... someday.

CHRISTENE'S:

Artist's note: I couldn't fit their children in the bio sorry girls and gays. I'll probably draw them out later on after I'm finished with everyone else.

Their stomachs are basically voids, so every time they eat the food just disappears, which is why they're ALWAYS hungry.

HIGHLY flammable.

It is speculated that they're poppets, but you don't have any proof of that, do you?

If you listen closely, you can hear soft bell noises every time they walk. It is unknown why this happens, but I believe it is best not to ask.

Aaaaand that's it! I plan on taking a short break from these bc I wanna draw some other stuff. Dw, I'll continue to work on these very soon!

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

When I watched rebels and ahsoka I couldn’t have cared less about thrawn

I am now reading his book and I care about him and eli SO MUCH

[deejadabbles]

Hold On Tight (Tup x Fem!Reader) Spice

Summary: Now that he's back on Coruscant, Tup plans to thoroughly enjoy you, all night if you'll let him.

A.N: Right after I posted this, I realized just how rude it was of me to promise Tup enjoying you, without actually showing it! Please take this full-length filth as my apology 😉 Reader is described as wearing a dress and heels, but no other descriptors are present.

Recommended songs for reading: Freak by Doja Cat and positions by Ariana Grande

This is 18+ Minors DNI!!!!

Warnings for: being complete filth (again), marking, hair pulling, dirty talk, praise kink (both receiving), oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, over-stimulation/multiple orgasms, cock-drunk behavior. Just, warnings for Tup being an absolute beast in general.

Your excitement was warming your chest far more than the few drinks you had at the bar, and who could blame you? Not even the friends you were out with minded how you left earlier than usual, not when you had received the message from Tup saying that the Resolute had docked early and that their shore leave was already under way.

Always the gentleman, he had insisted that you could stay out, that he didn't want to take you away from your friends, but you were just too excited to stay for longer than a few more dances. Tup probably got to your place awhile ago and you hoped you hadn't kept him waiting too long.

You knew where he was the moment the door slid open. The light in the refresher was on, casting a glow into the rest of the home, which was dimly lit. That made sense, he was always talking about how much he loved your shower, with actual water instead of the sonic crap they put up with on the war ships. He also loved the better quality of hair products and body wash you kept on hand for him.

The hum of the hairdryer stopped almost as soon as the door closed behind you and before you could get to the bathroom, Tup was stepping out in nothing but a towel, eyes searching for and spotting you in an instant.

"Cyare!" he greeted, that sweet smile spreading across his face.

His arms were already open as you ran to him, throwing yourself into his embrace with a joyful laugh. His strong arms held you tight, as you buried your face in his neck. You were instantly wrapped up in his scent, the smells of warm spices and woodlands, and a content hum left you.

He was home, with you, finally.

"I missed you," he whispered against your ear, just before his lips started peppering kisses over every inch of you he could reach.

"Missed you more," you mumbled into his hair, which was still a little damp.

Tup laughed at the familiar exchange, usually he'd say how that wasn't possible, but he was too busy laying those kisses on you.

"How was your night out?" he asked, and you felt his hand trail down your dress to squeeze your hip.

You let out a little hum, then finally pulled back enough to look at him. "It was nice, we hadn't gone out to dance in awhile, and it was an excuse to wear this." You wiggled your hips a little in his grasp, accentuating just how much it had ridden up your legs.

Now his joyous smile was slipping into a smirk, a knowing one.

"Yeah?" his eyes traveled down your body, enjoying every inch his gaze took in "and how many men hit on you tonight?" his tone was teasing, not at all accusatory. He was far too confident in your relationship for that.

With a smirk of your own, you started playing with the ends of his curls. "A few. Poor things didn't know they never had a chance with me. Most took the hint, but one was annoyingly persistent."

Tup's hand squeezed just a little harder at that, "And what did you say to him?"

With your other hand, you started trailing your fingers across the bare skin of his collar bone, letting your words come out slow, a whisper. "I told him that I don't like boys," your eyes locked with Tup's, just as you licked your lips, "I like men."

A hum that was almost a growl left him as he pulled you flush against his hips, and the towel around his waist hid nothing. He leaned in so his lips brushed the skin just below your ear, "Do you want this man to remind you why?"

"Yes," it came out as a breath, a breath that he caught when he pressed his lips to yours in an open mouthed kiss that was on the verge of desperate.

The two of you were moving in sync, walking backwards to your bed, while never daring to part your needy lips. Maker, you missed the way he tasted, and from the little moans he was letting out, he could say the same of you.

Your senses were wrapped wholly around him, taking in his smell, his taste, now you needed to feel him. Hands trailed down his bare chest, adoring every muscle and scar they ran across. Every bit of it was so, him, so Tup, and you loved everything that was Tup. The moment your fingers hit the towel, they were working at the knot he make to secure it, practically ripping it off his body the second you could, which made him chuckle low in his chest.

It was only when your legs hit the bed, that he finally broke the kiss, urging you to sit with a gentle push on your shoulders. But as soon as you were seated, he knelt before you.

"Been thinking about this all day," he said, tone intimate as he reached down, took your foot and started slipping your heels off with care, "thought about what I wanted to do to you, how I want to take my time," he lifted your leg and pressed a kiss to your ankle, "how I want to savor every inch of you."

Then his the tips of his calloused fingers were brushing their way up the back of your calves, his eyes following their progress with a hunger that made you realize you were already getting wet. His palms lay flat against your skin when he reached your knees, and they kneaded your thighs lovingly until they met the hem of your dress.

Tup got back to his feet then, and made you gasp when he scooped his hands under your ass and lifted you, just enough to pull the dress up. You felt the muscles in his biceps flex as he did it, making you want to swoon in his arms right there.

"I hope you'll wear this for me soon, mesh'la," he said as he started pushing it up your body, letting his hands trail in its wake, "but right now, I need to see you. Need to feel your skin on mine."

The moment the garment was over your head and tossed aside, Tup was on you, lips against yours again as he pressed you back, following you as your body fell to the mattress.

His lips didn't stay there for long, though, and you could feel the subtle shift in his movements as he trailed his mouth down your throat to your collar bone. He was letting his need come out more now, his lips turning more desperate as he started suckling at your skin.

Oh. You knew what he was doing, knew he needed to bring back the little parts of him that faded too soon whenever he left on another campaign. You bit your lip when his teeth came out to play, sinking in just enough to make you moan.

Your hands were reaching above you, grasping for anything as he pressed every bit of his chest to yours, and moved to your shoulder to leave a second reminder of his touch behind.

Finally, your hands just gripped the sheets, right as another sound left you, and he slid up to your neck for a third imprint.

"T-Tup, not there, I-"

"I know, cyare," he breathed, "I wont leave any where your uniform wont cover," a gentle press of his lips to soothe the already sensitive skin, "I don't need to show off, don't need to prove to anyone that you're mine." Another flash of teeth that had you bucking your hips, "Just want you to think of me whenever you see this gorgeous body in the mirror."

You were fairly certain the sheets were going to rip if you gripped them any tighter. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they were working in perfect harmony against your skin. An almost violent moan left your throat when he bit down yet again, another addition to the marks he left across your shoulder and neck, his marks.

"Love it when you moan like that, mesh'la," Tup whispered against the blooming blemish, hot breath fanning over it like a feather light touch. "Love it when I can mark-" he paused and raised his head a little, eyes on the fingers curled into the sheets.

A soft tut tut noise sounded from his tongue.

"Mesh'la," this time, it was almost a scolding, "you know that's not where your hands belong."

Your throat was so dry as you tried to swallow, his words making the ache between your legs pulse. Just like his marks, you knew what he wanted. Fingers slowly uncurled from the fabric and reached up to him. With loving care you traced his temple, and tucked some stray curls behind his ear.

Tup closed his eyes, humming at the contact with sensual delight.

Slowly, you started threading fingers through his wonderfully soft locks, letting your nails graze his scalp, and relishing the little moan he let out.

The moan turned to a delighted cry when you grabbed the hair and pulled.

"Yes!" Tup's voice almost cracked as his head snapped back, hips jutting forward as if on instinct, and you hated that your panties got in the way of his already hard cock. His grin was wide, wolfish, even, as he looked down at you through half lidded eyes. "That's my girl," he praised, "so good for me, giving me what I like."

That's when he started moving.

Careful to keep your hands in his hair, Tup started at a teasing pace, lips now trailing down your body. Grazing between the valley of your breasts, nipping over your stomach, and kissing across your hips.

He was sinking to his knees again, and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed as he went, effortlessly keeping his lips on your body.

A flash of white teeth met the waistband of your panties, pulled it back, and let it go with a small snap. Then, he was gazing up at you again, that familiar haze of need and adoration darkening his eyes.

"You gonna hold on tight while I enjoy you?" His tone was just as wicked as his eyes, "Gonna use my hair to take what you want from my mouth?"

"Yes! Maker, yes- Tup, please," you couldn't even care how needy you sounded, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was telling you to abuse his curls in the filthiest ways.

Tup's fingers hooked your panties and began dragging them down, down. "That's my good girl. Don't forget to use your nails too, I love it when I can still feel them on my scalp afterwards."

Your panties were tossed away as carelessly as your dress- then those lips and tongue and teeth were diving into your wet cunt without any other warning.

The loudest moan yet wracked your throat. You were wound up too tight, too lost in the memories of what Tup's mouth could do to you not to cry out in ecstasy. A curse dragged out after the moan when he used his lips to open you up, leaving plenty of room for his tongue to lap between your folds like a treat.

Not forgetting what got him off, you started working your fingers in his hair. A firm tug from you when his lips suckled, a gentle rub when his tongue stroked, a scrape of your nails when he teased your clit.

Suddenly, Tup pulled back just a bit, causing you to whine as his hot breath puffed against your pussy. "Come on, cyare," he growled, "I told you to take what you want, I know you can do better than that."

It was all the direction you needed, with your finger tips digging into his scalp, you pulled him back against you, burying him deep and crying out at the way his nose pressed hard against your clit.

Tup let out a delighted moan at the action, not wasting a second before lapping at you with enthusiasm again. His hands gripped your thighs tight, and you noticed his fingers digging into your flesh in tandem with the way you pulled his hair. The harder, the better.

You were griping the strands in such a tight fist that they might as well have been handles for your pleasure. Emboldened by the way you were holding him hard against you, Tup's tongue shoved forward, dipping inside you like your favorite toy. He got what he wanted when you yanked even harder than before with a scream of bliss.

But it was your turn to praise now, those words he loved to give and receive so much. "Don't know how you're so good to me, Tup," the sentiment fell from your lips in a pant, just as he dove his tongue deeper, "so so good! Love how you eat me up, love how much you enjoy me."

Another moan sounded against your wet folds, making for an interesting mixture that caused a soft giggle to bubble in your chest. The only thing Tup didn't like about eating you whole was that he couldn't give the dirty talk back. And with you pulling his hair to keep him firm against your cunt, he couldn't even take a break to tell you how good you tasted.

Tup was breathing hard through his nose now, gasping against you between more moans. That inkling of worry crept in, worry of suffocating the poor man who never stopped until you came, who joked that making you climax was a mission worth dying for. He wasn't tapping out, though, and the blissful groans he let out said he was more than enjoying himself.

It still wasn't quite enough, though, so with your hands full of his curls, you pulled him up just a little, dragging his nose against your clit in a delicious sensation. He got what you were playing at, and you felt him grin as he started moving up and down in minute nods, rubbing his nose hard while his mouth worked harder.

"Yes! Yes, just like that- oh! Tup, you're so goooood to me!" Your nails were gripping in deep, as if they were anchors to hold your pleasure in place while you chased it and god did you love the sounds he was making: delighting in your delight!

Waves of pleasure rolled through your body with every press of his nose and swipe of his tongue. As much as you loved looking down at him, on his knees and buried between your legs, you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut at the euphoria he was causing. Oh- oh! Just a little harder-

You pulled his hair rougher than ever and threw your head back with a scream, rutting against his face as if you were a needy virgin again!

He ate it up like candy, his whole body shuddering as he continued to mouth your pussy.

The aftershock of your orgasm was already sending you, and feeling him still going at it made tears spring to your eyes. With your chest heaving hard, you tried to make sense of the heavenly haze clouding your mind. Tup had taken such good care of you, your first thought was to take care of him in turn.

Your hands started massaging his scalp, tender and soft, a silent thank you, a listless reward. He let out another sound at the caring act, this one long, drawn out, and high pitched; content.

Or, so you thought.

You still hadn't recovered from the waves of coming the first time, but Tup was already on the move. He finally came up for air, rising from his knees and letting your hands fall from his hair to land limp beside your head. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him with a smile. He returned it, all sweet, seemingly innocent, with his hair in his face as he gripped your thighs.

"I think you're ready, mesh'la," was the only warning you got before he pulled your legs towards him and buried himself inside you fast and deep.

Another throat-rending sound came out of you as he started a merciless pace immediately. He wasn't one to forgo intimacy, though, and ran his hands from your thighs all the way up your body as he leaned down. Stray curls tickled your face as he braced himself on his forearms, caging you, and taking your hands in his.

"That was your first climax, my sweet girl," he whispered, still grinning at you like a love-struck boy, "think I'm gonna try for at least three tonight."

You tried to pant out the number, astonished by his commitment, but the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of you made the word die in the air. Instead, you managed a whimper that might have been 'maker' or 'by the force' or some other ethereal power you only ever prayed to when Tup was taking you like an animal in heat.

"Wanna make you feel so good," he continued, lacing his fingers with yours tenderly, a startling contrast to bruising pace of his hips, "wanna remind you why you wait for me, why I'm the only man who can have you like this."

If there was any part of you that wasn't in the throws of an overstimulated high, you would have told him that this was only part of it. That there was so much more of him to love than his talented mouth and big cock. But right now, all you could pull together was a breathy "love you, Tup," which caused him to crashed his lips against yours again.

His face was still an absolute mess from eating you out, but you only moaned against the contact, his hips never letting up as they drove home hard.

The kiss didn't last long, and when he broke it, he started kissing downward. All the way down to those still sore hickeys at your throat. The way his teeth and lips played on the tender skin, combined with the aching between your legs was too much! You felt it slam into your body like his hips: hard and relentless and so fast it ran you over like a speederbike.

You gripped his hands tight, writhing under him as the orgasm caused the sheen of tears to roll out from the corners of your eyes. And he never stopped. Tup never let the pace of his hips slow, even as he cooed at the sight of you coming undone again.

"Oh, my sweet cyare," he kissed your temple, collecting the stray tears on his lips, "that's two. You're taking me so well, love the way you look like this, gonna make you feel amazing."

You were sure he was pounding your soul right out of your body, because you were only vaguely aware that he moved to the other side of your face, kissing those tears away with care before he leaned back a little. His fingers finally untangled from yours, only to reach down and grip your thighs again. He held them for a few more of those rough thrusts, but clearly had other plans as he lifted them both, moving your body just where he wanted it.

You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to keep in another sobbing moan at the feel of this new angle, his cock going devastatingly deep. Again you were struggling to make sense of anything that wasn't the sensation of him, but you thought you felt him scramble for something above your head.

Next thing you knew those strong arms were lifting your hips again, so he could slide something soft and plush under your back.

Oh, he had grabbed a pillow for you.

"There you go, sweetheart," he said with sugary devotion, "I need you to be comfortable while I make you forget everything that isn't my cock."

Those words alone made you sing for him again, especially with the love sick way he was looking down at you, like he had forgotten everything that wasn't you and your pleasure. The pillow helped, raising you up to better meet his thrusts blow for blow. Despite a part of you begging for the over stimulation to stop, a larger part of you couldn't help but buck into him with every thrust.

You willed your arms to move, to reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair again. He hummed in pleasure when you pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, then he gasped, delighted when you mumbled, "already the only thing I can think about." You sounded drunk, high even, but you didn't care, not when he was like this.

Maker, what had you done to deserve this attentive adonis of a man?

Tup groaned at the lazy way you were kneading his hair and scalp, "Cyare, my beautiful perfect girl, keep doing that- Oh! I'm about to come- come with me cyar'ika!"

He slid his hand between your bodies, keeping his eyes on you as his fingers found your clit. Tup placed his fingertips right above the sensitive spot and pressed, pushing so it met the plunge of his hips.

"Want you to scream," he sounded drunk now, eyes barely keeping from rolling to the back of his head, "want you to scream my name this time, can you do that for me?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice as he took you with shallow desperate thrusts. You could feel it again, the coil tightening, your body pathetically easy to handle in the throws of this much pleasure, and Tup was sure to get what he wanted. Two fingers rubbed right where you loved it, keeping his control there even as he lost it in his hips.

Your body seized up, stilling as it felt another climax creeping in-

"Tight! So tight!"

-and you made sure to dig your nails in again as he gave a stuttering cry above you. That was all he needed, and you felt him fill you, hot and wet, causing your own peak of bliss!

"Tup!"

It was more of a wail than a scream, but he didn't seem to mind as he filled you to the brim, keeping himself balls deep so you had to take it.

His eyes were closed, chest heaving, hair tumbling loose from your grip to fall in his face. The stray curls swayed in front of his lips with every heavy breath he let out, leaving him looking disheveled and delicious.

Then his eyes snapped open, meeting your gaze through the curtain of curls as his wicked grin spread back into place. "That was three, sweetheart," he panted, obviously pleased with himself.

Finally, Tup let himself collapse, scooting both of your bodies a little further up the bed before he fell to your side, curls fanning around him, eyes closed, and breathing still not quite under control.

His hands rubbed up and down your body, wanting to soothe you, needing to feel you. Every inch of you seemed to ache, but you reveled in the feeling, reveled in the phantom sensations of his hands and lips and cock all over your body.

Tentative lips pressed against your shoulder, "I wasn't too rough, was I?" his eyes were still closed, basking in his own bliss even as he tried to make sure you were okay.

"No," you breathed, hands groping for his and when you found them, you brought his fingers to your lips and kissed them, "No, never, Tup. I just- I just need a minute for my soul to come back to my body."

He laughed at that and snuggled closer to your side, "You really know how to compliment a guy, mesh'la."

"Oh, I haven't even gotten started with them, just you wait. When I can make a coherent though, 'm going to give you aallll the praises."

Both of you were quickly dissolving into delirious fits of giggles and laughter, even as Tup gave you another quick kiss, and grabbed your hands.

Maker where did he get all this energy? you thought as he rose up, urging you to follow him. Guess it comes with all those genetic modifications, lucky me.

He lifted you to your feet with that gentle smile of his, "Come on, cyar'ika, lets go take a shower together."

"But you've already taken a shower," you giggled as he pulled you.

There was that teasing look again, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I did, but I need another one after everything you did to me!"

"Everything I did to you?!" you swatted his shoulder with a laugh.

Just as you passed the door to the fresher, he pulled you closer to him, chuckling as he pressed a kiss to your ear, "I can still feel the mess you made of my face, cyare. So, yeah, what you did to me." Another wet smooch of a kiss, then he turned to the shower.

You hadn't been able to really take him in before, so you hummed at the sight of him naked and bending over to start the water. The dimples right above his ass came out to play, and almost distracted you from the glorious glutes themselves.

Kriff, you weren't really hoping he'd use your still sore body again, were you?

"There we go," Tup said as the water started, then reached back and guided you into the shower, "lets clean you up."

He stepped in after, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around you as the warm water rained down. You let him hold you up, let him run his soothing hand up and down your body, let him clean you up with care.

You didn't even realize you were moaning until he was whispering in your ear again, holding you just a little tighter.

"Keep sounding like that, and I may just try for four, cyar'ika."

I'm just going to tag all the darlings who seemed to like the original post <;3 @blueink-bluesoul @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @corrieguards @spicy-clones @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @sunshinesdaydream @commander-sunshine

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slasher iii & slasher iv

oh geez oh boy oh god here it is. i had to strangle this thing out of my brain and she came out kicking and screaming. unedited, just some fun slasher iii & slasher iv content on this saturday evening. this is... something

there's a good bit of triggers in here, please proceed with caution.

1.15k words

The two of them are just hardcore horror fans, right? They've seen all the classics a million times but as they're getting older it's just not enough. III is the first one to suggest it as he turns off the television after watching the newest horror box office flop. At first, IV thought it was a joke. An outlandish suggestion to throw him off his game. That was the kind of jokester that III was. But there was no humor in his voice when he said in a sinisterly quiet voice.

"We could just do that shit ourselves."

The thought caused excitement to pulse through IV's veins as III laid out the details of his fantasy. It was almost too perfect, he thought. Their calculus professor was a piece of shit who was always too hard on the class, so he made an obvious target. He had no family, which further eased IV's conscience. They'd be doing the world a favor.

It was an experience unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, the thrill of watching the light wink out of his horrified eyes as he clawed at the masks covering their faces, watching the fight leave his body as he fell limp to the floor. He found he didn't quite mind the feeling of his blood soaked jeans clinging to his legs.

III had done most of the dirty work, but who was IV to deprive him of the joy he received from plunging the knife into his victim's stomach? They tidied. up after themselves enough to erase their presence, and waited for someone to find him.

The discovery of the beloved professor’s body the next day came as a shock to the whole community, leaving the town a worried mess. Things only got worse as III and IV selected their next target. She was a young woman, engaged to be married, known for babysitting just about every kid in town– the two of them included. IV’s stomach soured at the thought, but the grin on III’s face stirred his excitement enough to quell his conscience. 

“Don’t worry mate, she’ll be perfect.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder and pulled him into his pickup truck, the bed loaded with enough hunting knives to butcher a stampede.

And perfect she was. They managed to slip into the garage undetected, slinking through the darkened hallways towards the illumination and chatter of the television in the living room. She had nodded off on the couch, her head tilted back and nestled into the corner, surrounded by blankets and pillows. III gave him a silent nod and IV walked around behind her, wrapping an arm around her neck and clamping his hand over her mouth. Her eyes shot open in fear, panic overtaking her body as her eyes raked down every intimidating inch of III as he knelt in front of her, sliding a knife out of his boot. 

IV could feel her gnashing at the flesh of his palm, and simply pressed the crook of his elbow further into her jugular. He could feel her resolve dwindling as she thrashed against his hold, trying to shove III’s towering figure away from her. But III only laughed and swatted away her comparatively small hands as he began tracing the tip of his blade up her pajama clad leg, the twinkle in his eye indicated to IV that he was thoroughly enjoying the muffled whimpers coming from behind IV’s hand, relishing in the way that her body lurched away from him.

When IV felt his hand dampening from her tears, he audibly groaned, looking down to see her beautiful eyes squeezed shut, tears running down her cheeks. If his mask wasn’t covering his mouth he would have leaned down and licked those tears off of her perfect skin himself. But instead, he managed to catch III’s attention, nodding down to her streaming tears and III laughed evilly.

He leaned over her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs, gently caressing her cheeks as he did so, despite IV’s hands covering most of her face. 

“Hey, no use for that,” III cooed. “No point of doing that at all, love.”

Her eyes opened, a bone-chilling fear shooting through her body as she saw the murderous glint in III’s eyes. The tears flowed faster, and as she tried again to break free III restrained her arms with ease, resting his body weight on top of her as he brought his knife up to her line of sight again. 

“We’re going to have a lovely time, the three of us.”

She screamed from behind IV’s hand, making one last attempt to bite at him and managed to find purchase on the meat of his palm, causing him to yelp. She sank her teeth in until she could taste his blood on her tongue, but she found his grip only tightened. When she dared a glance above her, she could see his eyes shut, breathing labored, but when he looked down at her, she realized what a mistake she had made. 

A mixture of her tears and IV’s blood dripped from her chin, and the sight sent a shockwave of excitement through III’s body. He was ecstatic to have a partner in all this, to get to experience his wildest fantasies with his best friend. To share this new side of him with his best friend. 

“Now for the fun part.” He whispered, more to IV than to her, but the words caused her heart to sink, she felt the resolve fly from her body– there was no salvation for her. The coppery tang of his blood on her tongue that had once tasted like victory now tasted of defeat. Not only would she die at their hands, she would die with their repulsive presence invading her every sense.

III felt the familiar rush of euphoria as the blade pierced through her belly, her muffled scream like a favorite song heard on the radio. He didn’t miss the way IV’s hip pressed slightly into the couch, spreading a wide grin across his lips.

This would be the fun part, indeed.

Hours later, III laid down in his bed, resting an arm behind his head as he replayed the events of the day, that same grin still plastered on his face. He felt his eyes drifting closed, sleep ready to take his body when he heard the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand. His heart leaped at the sight of your name, and your sweet message.

i guess you turned in early tonight. sweet dreams, i love you <3

As he laid back down, his eyes falling shut one more time, his mind conjured up the most beautiful plan for you. 

A special surprise.