#fix fuck make worse

[mythtakens]

“these characters should be mentally healthy before they get together 😌” ummm no I actually think we should smash their mental illnesses together like clumps of play-doh and see what colors it makes

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[clouvu]

yknow what. *undooms your yuri again*

[lethal-effect]

Me after episode two of MisMag2: wow that sure got crazy and intense and hilarious. But surely it will be quickly resolved in the next episode and Evan will be alright. They wouldn’t let anything TOO terrible happen to him right now because that would be a CRAZY tone shift

Me at the beginning of episode 3:

[hunybody]

honestly eddie needs to fuck bobby’s hot priest. just once. just one time. this arc would have it all! catholicism. forbidden romance. eddie examining the way he interacts with his religion and his queerness. a guy who sort of vaguely looks like buck. like look at this. we could have it all

[astracora]

Sylus is lovely and precious but I really wanna see more of the version of him when he's working. The cold, driven man who is so incredibly educated and dangerous. On the phone to his partner, talking casually with them while he tortures someone in the background for information. Leaking their mind out through the cracks using his EVOL.

The criminal that tortured and broke a room full of warlords, with a cold smile and absolutely zero apologies. A man so incredibly capable of extreme violence with a wave of a hand and calm dismissal.

His intelligence is so sharp and dangerous I want to see his cruelty edged with it.

[dykedvonte]

I just realized some people are confused about events in the alluded to past in Mouthwashing, particularly about how long the crew has been working together.

The only person who is truly new is Daisuke and it’s why his dynamic with the crew and role in the story is very unique and somewhat distant. Curly didn’t just get Jimmy this job on the Tulpar, he got him the job with the Pony Express. He’s been his copilot for probably a couple of years but still not as long as they’ve been friends. None of them are new with the freight industry, Anya and Swansea especially have been doing this for years, together.

Jimmy is the newest on the regular crew, maybe just a few assignments, but it’s not his first time working with them. I think it’s just something important because this isn’t just one bad mistake that snowballed with giving Jimmy the job. None of them thought Jimmy would do anything, no matter how off-put by him they could’ve been, since he hadn’t done a thing since being there. Generally unpleasantness isn’t a crime and he’d be aware of that.

It was a festering thing and a sort of forced trust they had to give him that he knowingly took advantage of. He was the black sheep and still a wolf under the wool. He expected when he lashed out, that he had been there long enough for it to be looked over completely. Got too comfortable in the space he inserted into and did a lot of damage with his claws when he felt he was going to get shaken out.

[allykatsart]

I'm sorry but I've just thought of the funniest fucking ship

Striker x Emberlynn

[housecow]

i actually wanna cry/die rn. i bought a new bed (full size) w a 600lb weight limit. my new mattress only shipped today so i have a twin on the frame atm… the bed frame didnt come with instructions or anything so we kinda just winged putting it together ig but 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i literally turned over to fall asleep and the main support SNAPPED under my weight. before the actual mattress is even here and idk what to do 😭😭😭😭

[cruelplatonic]

my personal headcanon is the vees were unremarkable nobodies when they were alive. i just love it as a thematic throughline for them. they love to let the public of hell speculate on them being famed and acclaimed since before death, but the the truth is they were a d-list failed influencer that got by on cheap controversey and scamming, a broke junkie who burned every shaky bridge he ever had, and a worn-out broadcast production assistant with more rejected auditions and tossed out script pitches than he could count. nobody missed them when they were gone, nobody cared who they were until they were dead.

[northernsharkteeth]

thinkin bout r63 girls will and mack (and also leno is there being a douchebag and kinda getting lesbian cucked on snapchat)

so like yeah yeah women in the nhl, the sharks for whatever reason happen to have had a very dude-heavy roster for the last little while, which is why front office goes so hard on mack as the future face of the franchise. she gives them local credibility (much to her chagrin), the intensity rick hammered into her (perhaps even more strongly than he did her brothers, saying that she needed to work twice as hard to get half as far as the boys would), and hashtag girlboss points (look at that lovely young lady! isn’t it so awesome that girls can play hockey here in san jose california! she’s so cool and tough and young and gorgeous!!)

because of the lack of women on the sharks bench in recent memory, some of the fellas have forgotten (perhaps never really knew) how women interact with each other. to them it makes perfect sense that these two rookie girls would glom onto each other in a sea of men, they obviously have more in common. like, uhhh, periods and stuff. they probably synched up or something.

they are kinda intense on the girly cliquey stuff they have going on, though. like, is it normal for them to go out for lunch (and breakfast and dinner and coffee and dessert) just the two of them, even when there’s a loosely-planned team meal on the books? is it normal for them to have scheduled “girls nights” multiple times a week where patty and jumbo (depending on who’s hosting) aren’t allowed to interrupt them? is it normal for them to brush off every guy who tries to pick them up while on the road, making the briefest eye contact over the poor bastard’s shoulder and cackling to each other at some joke they only communicated telepathically, grabbing each other’s arms and thighs and leaning in to catch their breath until the guy gives up?

the hookup thing especially confuses the boys. even though they’ve never seen will or mack pick up while on long roadies, they never seem stressed or frustrated in the same way some of their dude teammates do if they go too long without something. maybe girls just dont need it the same way?

leno is also kinda baffled by it. the will he played with didn’t really have girl friends, she always stuck with him and gabe and their other dude buddies wherever they were playing. it’s not until will starts hanging out with mack 24/7 that he realizes that will was telling the truth when she told him she was bi the first time they got drunk together. in the back of his head he always assumed she was exaggerating her attraction to girls when she wolf-whistled at something foul that was said in the locker room about someone’s sister in the bleachers, or that her making out with chicks at frat parties was largely for him. she usually ended up in his dorm bed after those escapades anyway, leno just thought that was a thing that straight girls do to rile up guys.

but, like, will and mack are fucking. leno could tell from their first facetime call while will was on the road, rooming with mack. when she picked up the call her hair was all mussed, her cheeks all pink. she was slumped against the pillows on her hotel bed, one strap of her tank top slipped off her shoulder. for a moment, there was a sliver of someone else’s bare shoulder off the edge of the screen with just a hint of what leno thought was sideboob before the bed dipped it was gone, and will was looking to that side and past the phone to relay leno asking mack if she’d learned “how terrible of a roommate smitty is?” mack has the gall to say “well, she’s pretty fucking loud,” before falling into a contagious giggle. leno watches will’s face heat up, mouth falling open, mock-scandalized, before cracking into a smile as she whips a pair of plaid pj pants in what appears to be mack’s direction.

and it’s obviously really hot; leno’s not above admitting that he’s gotten a lot of mileage out of the thought of will fucking another girl, but he knows she’s not doing this for him. at least, not entirely. it’s just that will keeps calling him with mack right beside her, holding the camera just low enough to show off the massive hickey on mack’s collarbone. she’ll snap him pictures of mack playing chel in her room, the light from the tv shining off mack’s slick, bruised lips. the last time they chatted on the phone, will apologized for her slightly scratchy voice, at which point mack called across the hotel room “my bad!” before laughing and walking into the bathroom to shower. will lets leno see the aftermath of whatever it is they have going on but won’t give him specifics—won’t give him anything to flesh out the, admittedly, tried and true “girls kissing and one of them is will” method of getting himself off. every time leno tries to make a joke about it (“has mack seen what you let me do to you?”) she just laughs and calls him a freak.

leno’s only hope to really see what it is will does with girls (girl singular, more like, it’s not as if she has much time to be seeing anyone else besides mack) is to, perhaps, bypass her. and mack’s cool: the right kind of intense that leno really appreciates, quite funny, definitely really hot and a welcome addition to certain fantasies—plus she’s got this very obvious possessive streak leno can make use of. by the time will makes them exchange snaps so she can stop playing intermediary for shit they want to pick each other’s brains on, half the messages mack is sending leno are pictures of will: will reaching up to the top cabinet in mack’s kitchenette in jumbo’s garage, her shorts riding all the way up her ass; will laying on her stomach on mack’s bed scrolling tiktok in her underwear and a hoodie with “celebrini” plastered across the back. that kind of thing.

one night shortly after the hoodie photo, leno gets a video of will on her back, camera held right above her face, thrashing weakly against the thighs bracketing her hips as she tries to slow her breath. and mack keeps sending shit like that. sometimes will’ll be on her stomach, face buried in a pillow and knees half collapsed into the bed, shifting to roll over and reach for where mack is standing with her phone out. in those ones, her eyes are always screwed tight, lips parted, and sometimes leno will get the front half of a breathy “fuuuuck” before the clip cuts off.

it gets a little weird. leno and will still keep up like normal—as normal as possible when will is still picking up the phone with crazy sex hair and a smirking mack half in the frame, or is letting leno stare at a massive bruise on her inner thigh on their calls when she’s alone. leno doesn’t know if will even knows that mack’s videos are being taken, but it’s not like he can be that mad at mack. he’s the weirdo tugging one out in the shower thinking of his old fuck buddy’s current… girlfriend? (no, but maybe? he doesn’t know if will’s that kind of bi, whatever) secretly filming her immediately post-orgasm and sending them to him across the country. he’d like to think its just like when he and will jack off on facetime, only he doesn’t have to rely on will’s shaky camera skills while she’s coming.

with the time difference, leno usually gets his fill of mack’s camerawork in the morning, waking up to a couple snaps taken on pacific time the night before long after he’d gone to bed back east. one weekend, though, while will and mack are on an east coast roadie, leno’s wide awake to open them. it’s a little after midnight, but he’s got coursework to get over with the next day before an evening practice, so he’s just stumbled into his dorm. he’s tipsy from the party he just left, and a little overexcited by the prospect of seeing whatever mack’s blessed him with in close to real time, so he trips a bit getting onto his bed. thank god he doesn’t have a roommate this year.

the video starts pretty normally, with will on her back, topless. she’s got her forearms thrown over her face, and the first difference from previous videos that leno notices is that she’s talking. nothing exceptionally coherent, but when the baseline is just heavy breathing and the occasional whine when mack touches her briefly, it’s a bit jarring to hear something close to a sentence like “fuck, please, right there. mack, fuck, more!” being panted out of will’s swollen lips on leno’s tinny phone speaker. working his pants open, leno next notices that will is moving—being moved, pulled up and down the sheets, her tits bouncing a beat behind as she’s shoved around.

and leno knows she’s being shoved because the camera angles down more, cutting off will’s twitching hands grasping onto her elbows as she tries to hide her face to show what must be mack’s hand on will’s hip. mack is knelt between will’s thighs, wearing some kind of weird underwear? no, leno thinks as he gets a hand around himself, no that’s a harness. the black band spanning mack’s hips is a harness attached to a purple strap-on that she’s fucking will with.

because as she’s holding the camera, mack is fucking will. she’s got her phone positioned to get both the bottom half of will’s face that isn’t covered by her arms and where the purple silicone is being driven into her in the shot. the hand on will’s hip lets go and latches onto one of will’s tits, kneading it, and without the anchor at her hip, pulling her where mack wants her, will has to throw her arms open and grab onto the sheet to stay put. she sounds different, leno thinks, hysterical, speeding up his hand. when leno would fuck her—in his dorm last year, in the freshman residence building a block away from where he’s now laying—she would sound similar, but this was more desperate. whinier in a way that leno could make her sometimes, but not for long as it was usually right as he was about to finish too. maybe there’s something to be said for the consistency of plastic dick. maybe will’s getting something now that leno can’t give her.

because leno feels like he’s going to die, staring at an image of will he knows so well that is now, on his screen, completely unfamiliar. will’s eyes have shot open, and leno feels like he’s been caught, but then mack’s saying “you like being pretty for the camera?” and will lets out what sounds like a choked off sob, though leno couldn’t tell with his eyes screwed shut for a moment trying to calm himself down. the clip ends like that, the next one booting up right away. the hand that was on will’s tit—mack’s hand, leno reminds himself—has moved up to cup her neck, tucked in where it meets her shoulder, helping will drive herself down on the plastic cock mack is thrusting up into her as mack continues holding the camera. leno thinks he sees a splotch of spit on will’s turned cheek, but he can’t be sure with how his own hand is shaking holding his phone.

and then will’s hand is latching onto mack’s wrist, shooting in from the side of the frame to pull mack’s hand up and off her neck. she drags mack’s hand towards her face and leno groans into his empty bedroom right as mack clocks it too, laughing a bit to herself, saying “yeah? you need something in your mouth, kibble?” and will whines, like really whines, as she shoves mack’s fingers in her mouth. they hook behind her molars, and leno can just barely see will’s teeth clamp down on the fingertips before she closes her lips around them too.

mack does her best to lean back while leaving one hand in will’s mouth, the other still clutching her phone. she lifts the phone up, getting a wider view of how will is shaking on the bed, legs boneless as they bounce against mack’s thighs every time she thrusts up. with the phone closer to mack’s face, leno hears her let out these breathy little noises, rutting against the base of the strap with each push into will. she sounds nice, leno thinks, maybe when they meet up in person he’ll get to hear more.

mack hums deep in her chest, shark-toothed smile obvious in her voice when she says “is it like this with leonard?” and will’s eyes open, staring right at the camera again, her lips parting around mack’s fingers like she wants to respond. mack doesn’t let her, saying “i know you like when i send him videos afterwards, do you like showing him how good i make you feel?”

will whines around mack’s fingers at that, shutting her eyes tight against the camera lens—against the apparently ever-present knowledge of leno watching her through it, against leno’s newfound knowledge that she knew the whole time—and in his dark and empty bedroom, face lit with nothing but his phone screen, leno thinks that maybe he has died. that maybe the eternal afterlife god decided he has earned with his entire existence is getting to watch will writhe around on someone else’s cock while thinking about his. leno has no time to even consider where that’s landed him judgement-wise, because mack is wrenching her hand out of will’s mouth and grasping her by the jaw. “you gonna tell him how good it feels?” mack purrs.

will tries to answer when mack’s hand leaves her face and slips down out of frame, but then she twitches and settles back, jaw slack. “god, smitty, if leno makes you act like this i’m going to have to try him, right?” mack laughs, and will huffs out an “oh my fucking god, please, mack, fuck,” as the camera pans from her face and chest down to where mack is rubbing at her clit, hand framing the purple silicone still being pushed into her. “you gonna show me how you treat a lady, leonard?” mack says quietly into the phone, zooming the camera slightly as she presses the purple silicone into will until their hips are perfectly flush. will makes this little noise high in her throat and the video ends.

leno almost doesn’t realize the video has ended because he’s already running that last sound will made under mack talking to him all low on a loop in his head. he frantically loads up the first clip to watch again and comes about halfway through, collapsing back into his pillows, the phone in his hand crashing into the blankets beside him. when he’s able to move again, he opens his phone back up to see mack’s stupid bitmoji peeking up from the corner and a chat message. “u enjoyed? 👀👀”

a notification from will pops down and leno clicks it. it’s a chat message saying “also we’re in boston this weekend. when are you free?”

[problemnyatic]

Look, the bottom line is this. You're gonna be wrong and fuck up sometimes, that's just how being human works. No matter what you mean or how much you care, sometimes, you're gonna do something or say something that hurts someone or perpetuates bigotry you don't believe in.

The goal isn't to do no wrong, that's an impossible standard. The mark of "a good person" isn't that they always do good, it's that they're willing to admit when they've failed, done wrong, made a mistake, and they're willing to course-correct when they do.

It's important that you're trying. It's okay to be the bad guy. You don't need to get defensive, you don't need to stake your identity in "person who never does that kind of wrong." You just gotta be able to say "Fuck, my bad, I'm sorry," accept that your behavior didn't reflect your beliefs, and change your behavior so that it better represents who you mean to be.

The less time you spend lingering on whether it feels like people believe you are who you say you are, the more time you can spend getting better at being that person.

Some people will try to tear you down when you make mistakes, they'll try to pigeonhole you as a "bad person," someone whose very existence is defined by doing harm. This isn't your problem, and it's not your responsibility to prove anything to them. They don't have to believe you, and you don't have to appease them. So long as you're willing to accept when you *do* hurt someone, intentional or not, and you're willng to put in the effort to make reparations and change, you'll never "be a bad person."

Let yourself fuck up. All you have to do is course-correct when you notice your actions' impact have strayed from your intentions. The right people will notice that effort, and they'll be proud of you. And perhaps most importantly of all, they'll let you make that effort. Anyone who tells you it's too late to change, to discourage you from improving, or stop you from trying, is not your frend. You don't have to impress them. Ignore them, and let yourself change.

[justanotheryellowsoul]

Bright/Dim

You’ve heard of Loop glows when embarrassed and Loop’s hair glows when human. Now consider: their hair floats/defies gravity the more emotional they are

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[heich0e]

michael kaiser blue lock and endo yamato windbreaker... pathologically insane neck tat scumbag hot guys...

[justsalpals]

pfffft

con o'neill is out here living like no one else, and I respect the hell out of him for it

yeah man. izzy is a top shelf lay.