#sometimes you just gotta fucking go for it

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat. logan howlett & wade wilson contains. 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n. a/n. this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[gothgoblinbabe]

hiyaa <333 just wanted to drop a Logan request here.. (pref from the ver of the x-men, 2000?) because it's always like sunshine reader this and grumpy/mean logan that (i luv them btw) but what about cool!reader. what about the reader that can and will not put the cocky shit he is on his place but keep him there??? what about the reader that tames him down, the reader that casually grabs the back of his shirt to keep him from launching himself at Scott with a deadpan face, the one that lets him bite??? the one that will literally outmatch his agressive and violent energy????? the one that grabs his wrist when his claws go out and quirks an eyebrow at him like 'really?'???? like pls we do seriously need a bit of a level-head/intermediator!reader with Logan (can be smut if u feel like it?) 🙏🙇 fem if possible <33

IM KICKING MY FEET SO HARD RN OMG, I also love grumpy Logan x sunshine reader but being w someone that matches his energy? Oh my god, that’s my shit

NSFW/18+ // This isn’t like a full oneshot ig but if you do want that with plot and stuff lmk!)

- Within the first few months of meeting each other, everyone would definitely tease Logan (and you) about how you’re like the female version of him. You don’t put up with anyone’s shit, including his. He learned that the hard way, nearly being knocked on his ass when you yanked the back of his jacket to prevent him from ripping Scott to shreds because of some stupid comment. That wasn’t a one time occurrence, either. You were the only one bold enough to actually try to put him in his place when the claws came out, going as far as to use both hands to hold his wrist in place while you glared up at him.

“Chill the fuck out, would you?”

And the first time you had the balls to actually do that, everyone else stood back in mild fear, anticipating some kind of fight between the two of you. Instead, he rolled his eyes and retracted his claws. It was an unusual influence you had over him, something about you that made him feel hypnotized.

- He’ll never admit it to another soul, but he definitely likes that you’re dominant over him at times when you have to cool him down. Grabbing his arm, pushing him back - lightly tugging at his hair if you really couldn’t get his attention. He likes when you put him in his place, get a little rough with him or talk in an angry tone.

- And because I’m a sucker for friends to lovers, I think he’d be so head over heels for you because of that. He’d try his best to be stone faced when you were stern with him, but he’d be gnawing on his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

- Same thing with training: If you actually manage to wrestle him down to the mat, he knows he can push you off if he really wants to, but he never does - he gets way too engrossed in staring up at you while you straddle his lap and hold his arms down.

- Though Logan wasn’t always levelheaded, he could return the favor of holding you back when you got too aggressive, wrapping his arms around the middle of your waist and pulling you back - sometimes even having to lift you off the ground and sling you over his shoulder. Truthfully, he’d let you tear someone apart if it were up to him - the assholes usually deserve it - but he knew it would be frowned upon to not stop you.

- I think when you somehow do admit your feelings - maybe you get pissed when he puts himself in danger and just tell him you love him or he does the same when he starts to become a little too jealous of anyone else hanging around near you - he’d always have his hands on you in some way. Maybe the small of your back, your hands, your wrist - anything. And the jealousy thing? Oh, forget it, he won’t even let another guy stand too close to you. He’s not toxic (maybe if you wanted him to be🫣) but very protective, he’ll let another guy talk to you if he’s gotta but his hand is in your back pocket the entire time while he stares the dude down.

- Angry sex is a regular occurrence. Are you really mad at each other? Not even close, but it doesn’t take much more than a few choice words exchanged in the hall for Logan to be dragging you into the nearest room with a lock, holding you up against the wall and drilling into you till he has to hold a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. There were definitely a handful of times you’d almost been caught, trying to babble out an excuse about being busy to whoever was behind the door while your leg was hiked over Logan’s shoulder, messily eating you out with your skirt bunched up at your waist.

- Overall I think you’d make a good pair, keeping each other in balance when one of you gets a little feral (though, let’s be honest, it’s definitely usually you having to hold him back).

Like I said if you want more of that concept or like something w plot pls lmk!! Absolutely love the idea 🫶🏻

[bucoliqves]

Karamazov Trial Dashboard Simulator

⚱️ nameinajar Follow

dni if you defend dmitri karamazov he's literally suspected of parricide and elder abuse

🎩 mityussy Follow

maybe that's why i like him

⚱️ nameinajar Follow

you're literally so immature. even if he wasn't a murderer he's still a violent threat to the community and you're all acting like he's your toxic book boyfriend of smth. if I have to hear that he's got a great rack another time I'm gonna start reporting people.

🎭 master-of-none Follow

hey op not to be rude but this is what you sound like

3859 notes

🌙 moonyverse Follow

#istg if this poll ends up in history books

245 notes

🦢 living-vicariously Follow

if mitya ends up in jail im consoling his gf

#agrafena svetlova please be sapphic

46 notes

🎠 liselottw Follow

all you "rpf is immoral" mfs have been really quiet since alyosha karamazov was on the news

8.759 notes

🧅 onion-queen Follow

that one annoying witness at the karamazov trial that's just gotta go. god please take her. she's ready.

🧅 onion-queen Follow

THAT ONE WITNESS THAT JUST BE FUCKING TALKING

🧅 onion-queen Follow

lord please take mitya karamazov's suffering and put it on that witness

1.589 notes

👁 the-eyewitness Follow

Recently my asks have been flooded with people asking for my take on the Karamazov trial. An in-depth explanation would require a long meta that I am not in the conditions to write as of right now, so to put it short: sometimes we just have to let old people die.

🧄 m-rakitin-author Follow

I think I know the culprit

👁 the-eyewitness Follow

your receding hairline has been on national television enough times for everyone to see your brain might be damaged by uv radiations

6378 notes

[starfxkrreloaded]

⋆｡°✩ being sarahs best friend who moved from the cut, and during a sleepover one day she's just poking through your stuff untl she finds this litle rinky dink camera that she knows you carry around sometimes so she's going through it while you're in the shower. and it's nothing crazy at first--the two of you together, different parties, overall fun moments.

but you scrolls back a little further, about a year or so, and all of a sudden you're somewhere unfamiliar. it's dingier, woodier, more simplistic. it's gotta be back on the cut, and you're not the one holding the camera. someone else is, it's some guy with the lens trained on the way another guy--blonde this time--is gripping your things. you're standing, barely, slurring and leaning on the blonde one for support as he gropes at you in your bikini and tiny shorts.

told you dude, s'like we got our own porn star over here' he punctuates his action with a light bounce to your breast, pulling the damp triangle to the side so the cameraman can zoom in.

cmon jj don't say that, we gotta have some dignity about this'

all 3 of you sounded drunk, and you and jj were clearly far gone--kissing hard and deep as he pinched you nipple and shoved a hand down your shorts at the same time.

the unseen voice grabs your face, turning to his direction and sarah can see a little glimpse of him when he leans in to kiss you; curly brown hair, soft lips. its enough to make you groan, and blonde greedy because you're tugged out of the way so the two can kiss. sarah feels her whole body flush hot, she's used to seeing girls for a guy, but this is something new entirely.

you always do that, john b wanted to kiss me.

there's a bit of a shuffle, and sarah can't see anything, not until he sets the camera down, and she sees you on the bed, the blonde boy behind you holding your leg up as he pushes inside your ass. even in the crappy quality sarah can see you're wet--puffy lips glistening in the low light and she swears she can see a trickle of arousal drip down your thigh.

"oh my god..."

john b hurry up, i can't wait anymore i need both.

alright sweetheart relax, tell our boy to slow it down back there.

jj slows his thrusts just enough for john b to push into your cunt, and sarah almost gasps at how thick he is, he look's like he's gonna tear you in two. but all 3 of you let out some sort exclamation, and sarah's clit throbs at the sight, but the shower's turned off now and she knows there's only so much time left.

fuckfuckfuck oh my god. you're stuck between them, forced to take the dual pounding in a cacophony of moans and grunts as you start to squirm, god i'm gonna cum.

just as your voice reaches a pitch you come out the bathroom, skin still steaming as you finish rubbing your lotion in and sarah only had a split second to sit on the camera. hoping the minuscule chaos helped cover the sound as she shut it off

"the fuck's wrong with you?" you giggle as you walk past her to your dresser, dropping the towel leaving sarah to stare, watching you bend down to pull your panties on.

she glances in the mirror, and sees how flushed she looks, "oh just, opened the hidden replies on twitter. wasn't expecting that."

you snort, throwing on an oversized shirt that says Hayward's Seafood, and turning around, "don't know why it's always some crazy shit. come lady down i wanna watch a movie."

sarah does what you say, her body finally calming from the scene she witnessed but now all she can focus on is the warm vanilla scent of your skin and a picture she never paid too much attention to above your headboard.

"so, who are those two guys you're with here?"

[wittlesissyb4by]

Sweetie Todd

Men are soo desperate. It’s honestly a bit too easy. Do you know how many virgin losers I have at my disposal? They will do anything they can, just for a picture of my tits, anything for a bit of female attention. Take this little fairy for example. He dm’d me on Insta only a few weeks back.

‘Hey I like your pics.’ He said, ‘any way I can see you with the clothes off? 😏’

In the past, I would kick these pervs to the curb. Block, ignore, sometimes even report. But some were so desperate they actually offered to pay me. Just for a pic of my nips or even my feet. At first I declined, but times are tough, and a girl’s gotta eat, right?

So I let them. I’d let them cashapp me in exchange for a pic or two. It felt kind of dirty, but I told myself girls will do much worse for much less.

But they kept asking for more, instead of appeasing them, they kept asking for more. The money came in, sure, but I would quickly run out of content if I indulged them with every transaction. There's only so many ways to take a tit pic, and I refuse to subject myself to much more than that.

I quickly learned that if I strung them along, they would become even more desperate. One guy started to annoy me, becoming particularly pushy, so I told him to go fuck himself. Tell me why he literally sent me a video of him shoving a dildo up his ass less than 24 hours later?! It was gross, but that got me thinking...

If he was willing to do that just to see a pic of me, what else could I make these desperate little dorks do?

I told a guy to eat cat food, told another to fuck the crease of the couch cushions, even suggested to another that he stick his head in doo doo he found at the dog park.

They all did it. Every. Single. One. And they even paid me for the privilege!!

When I posted a video of a guy slamming a baseball bat between his legs and thanking me with every bash of his balls, the messages really started flooding in.

Men everywhere were begging to be dominated and, I'm not gonna lie, I kinda liked it. The attention was nice, my followers grew exponentially, and the money was pouring in. I didn't even have to show my tits anymore, just had to tell them to shove a tampon up their ass and keep it in for the rest of the day.

Virgin after pathetic virgin started subbing.

Eventually, my little 'tasks' for them became more and more devious. Buying and wearing a pair of panties was too easy. I wanted the full ensemble, and I wanted them to walk through their favorite sports bar with it on.

Some checked out at that point, but others, the most dedicated and desperate, stayed.

Then, I found it. One sub was being particularly whiney, so I suggested he go buy a pack of Depends diapers for being such a baby. He did, and it was the most hilarious thing I've ever seen. A grown man wearing nothing but a diaper and sucking on his thumb is truly a sight to see! Even better when you make them squat down and shit themselves. Even the most dedicated were absolutely broken at that point. It reduces them to nothing. I've taken control of everything at that point, all the way down to when and wear they use the bathroom. Yes, they now have to beg me (pay me) to poop their pampers. They have to pay extra if they want to cum, and they don't get to change their filthy diaper before they do.

This picture you see is of Todd. He's an investment banker. Todd originally messaged me for pictures of my feet and maybe a little domination here or there, I don't really remember. At this point, I don't really care. He got put through the ringer just like the rest of them. I do specifically remember him throwing a fit when he first had to wear the diaper. Or 'nappy', as he calls it, because apparently that's how they say it in Britain where he's from.

He told me 'no' at first. Said he'd never do it. That he was 'too much of a man' for that.

"Okay." was all I said, and left it at that.

Two weeks later, he'd sent me a pic of the nappies he bought. That's another thing I've learned too: when you push a guy's limits, he may resist at first, but eventually the horny/submissive brain always wins. They will do anything to please. Anything for a little attention.

But Todd didn't get to just wear diapers, no no. His dumbass tried to tell me he's 'too much of a man'. So now he gets to wear nothing but frilly dresses when he's at home. I randomly send check-ins to ensure he's doing as he's told. If not, he's punished. It's easy to get them to do what I want, because every day I just accrue more and more pictures/videos to blackmail them with if they refuse.

Todd got to suck his first dick the other day at some random truck stop! He swears up and down that he's not gay--and I actually believe him--but I also don't care. It's way too entertaining to see diaper dorks suck a dick for baby batter and thank me for it while they gargle it in their mouth.

One of my subs also let me in on a little thing called a 'chastity device', so guess what Todd will be putting on and sending me the key to? I'm sure he'll earn it back at some point. Three, maybe six months from now, I'll mail it back to him. If he's a good baby gurl, that is...

~~~~~~~~

Image Source: frilledpansy on imagefap

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[slymanner]

God dude these two scenes and how roxie moves hurt my heart so so bad 🥹

it's like a mix of anger, feral, emotional breakdown, and complete sadness that just fucks me up soooo fucking bad.

it's like she's a pet who got abandoned by their owner but they see them again after years of sadness and depression of them being gone and leaving them like that and all that anger and sadness just manifest's into one bundle of emotion's towards them they cannot control.

roxie baby ur gonna be okay u deserve better :[

[sergle]

I'm thinking abt that pretty fall leaves embroidery pattern post and about how like... it is categorically a repost, it's a reupload. right? a thing that is generally disliked. but because it's credited, it's genuinely boosting the artist in question. and it could ALWAYS be like this. reposting content could ALWAYS be a symbiotic relationship, but because sourcing back to the original creator of something is so uncommon, it's just easier to ask people not to repost it at all. and people still don't understand the difference. or they'll go to the effort of cropping out usernames/signatures to repost something, which is More Effort than literally crediting the creator of something you liked enough to want to repost. Like. I literally don't actually care if my own shit gets reposted, you have to understand. I just don't want it STOLEN. But "do not repost" is easier to write on my art than "you can repost this, but don't alter the image/remove my signature, don't you dare write 'credit goes to the artist' because that is not credit, please link back to my original post or someplace that you can actually find me. please use an actual link/url instead of writing a non-clickable link of my username, because making it text instead of a clickable link cuts the number of people who will go to the effort of visiting my own page in Half." All those aggregate themed accounts, those fuckin annoying as hell instagrams and facebook groups that are like "body positive art we love wamen 💕 hashtag feminism" and then MASS-STEAL plus sized art created by women, if pages like these that always go and steal my older self-portraits and other works... If they just put a link to my prints of those pieces in the text of those posts, or, fuck, my commission info page? I would literally be living on the moon right now. I would have a house on the moon

[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."

[feelo-fick]

I WANT ENDLESS BLISS!!!

HALF-AWAKE, HALF-DEAD, HALF-LIFE CRISIS

ALL NATURAL POMEGRANATE PULP.

FERMENTED TO PERFECTION, SAVOUR YOUR SAVIOR.

Q: What's your favourite food? A: THE ALE THEY SERVE AT THE TAVERN!

other versions : )

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

when you mentioned in your tags that there was hardly any laughingstock i didn't believe you at first, but holy shit ur right. YOU AND @krasytoonz MADE ME INTO A LAUGHINGSTOCK BELIEVER. I WILL PAY TRIBUTE TO THESE SKRUNGLY FUCKERS SOON, MARK MY WORDS *shakes fist into the void*

no yeah Seriously though its just us out here, fighting for our lives in the fucking Trenches. in ten years someone is gonna use the word 'laughingstock' casually in conversation and im gonna have War Flashbacks

[spiritofpassionfruit]

Instead of Shen Jiu being popped out of existence or his soul being swiched and ending up on Shen Yuan's body or even being stuck in his world as a ghost, Shen Jiu is actually placed as the system. And as such he must find a way to diverge the plot of PIDW so that the soon to be emperor Luo Binghe doesnt gouge out everything and everyone in his wake.

He utterly hates it, he is in shambles when his best chance is a run of the mill fanboy from the novel that has become sentient enough to warp reality and time. He hates the fact that his soul is now tied to Luo Binghe in technical terms, he hates he has to rewind time each and every single time Shen Yuan fucks it up with his horrid communication skills, he hates the way the player's modern lenguage has rubbed him off past those rewinds, he loathes the fac that he can`t even be himself and has to act like some sort of caricature in order for Shen Yuan to not notice who is derailing his life, and his own as well.

He hates the fact that its his fault the things have become more messed up.

But he is fine, he is fine knowing that he can put these new BL novel to rest and and let Yueqi and the sect live for more than what fate deemed them to be.

He is thankful, though not outwardly, that Shen Yuan was kind where he would never be.

[agir1ukn0w]

listen up freaks, I will enjoy my interpretations of Dracula as a truly monstrous creature representing disease and abuse and terror AND as a cunning, drop-dead gorgeous, bitchy sex god

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[krytus]

thee ballister boldheart, the queen's chosen champion, perched at the tip of gloreth's sword, with the entire kingdom watching. with the opportunity to become Thee Hero he's always dreamed of being, the scrappy kid who wanted nothing more than to hold a sword and slay monsters. having the chance of a lifetime of a generation to become the next gloreth. better than her, even because she banished monsters and he would kill her monster carry her legacy. god. do you get it. he had a chance to go back to the way Things Were. and yet, if he'd taken it, nothing would ever change in the kingdom again. he'd doom them all and they would think he saved them. the queen picked him put a sword in his hand and he. he drops it. he holds nimona back and saves her. hand forward he puts himself between her heart and the blade. god. GOD. everyone finally sees him for who he is. the man who drops his sword and apologizes to the monster because its not a monster because we've always been wrong. ough.

[gwekkuu]

Gyro doodle that got a little too out of hand :>

[moe-broey]

Quick and rough Plumeria redesign, mostly just cause...... I gotta do what comes naturally to me, man. Give me some Shapes. Simplify that design or so help me.

I don't have a lot of complex thoughts about it, actually! Just the idea of having a "sexy" outfit that draws the eyes to certain parts of the body -- while simultaneously being modest and Sharp. Having an edge to it. Also!!!! The luna moth inspired wings!!! I wanted to stay within her og color palette, but I've also always thought luna moth wings would suit her... the top wing is vaguely heart shaped, too!