#it makes me feel so. desperate?? i guess???

[mayapapaya33]

Well, I haven't read the origins comic yet, so I'll take your word for that. Some of the comic stuff is a bit wibbly on canon so I'm not sure if I do take it as campaign canon really, but I'll just go with it for the purposes of this conversation. (The fact that she never once mentions being run out of town by Yeza in the campaign makes that a little weird but sure ok. It also feels a little retconny to brush over her major fear that her family would reject her even if they DID know it was her under the curse, which was what was implied to be a big reason she stayed away in the campaign, in favor of it being because they DID chase her away based purely on what she looked like before she could say anything. It feels...strange. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I'll have to think about it. It just feels like after the fact justification of her staying away from them to me, but oh well. LET WOMEN BE FLAWED 2025! lol I am eventually going to get my hands on all of the origins comics, I just haven't done so yet.)

My point wasn't really a moral argument about Veth and Lilliana having done equally bad things in the world, obviously that's not true. I could have said It better, but I guess I just thought that was obvious and I was tired? lol, silly me. So to make it clearer: Veth is a hero who helped save the world, and Liliana fell in with a cult and did terrible things under the woefully misguided belief she was doing the right thing. I'm more saying I could see Veth turning out like Liliana if things went differently and their initial act of abandonment is fundamentally similar. Also, it's not just the hag thing btw, that was just the most obvious and memorable example I could reference and know everyone would know what I was talking about without writing a 5 page essay and hunting down obscure time stamps lol.

Another example was her stance in that discussion about justice and vengeance from ep 98 (26:26) with Caduceus. Cad basically said: Hey, going after criminals in the Empire sounds great if you can be smart about it, but if you're just doing it to make yourself feel better, I don't really see the point of that, so maybe don't because you'll probably restart the war if you aren't extremely careful. And Veth's response was very understandable from her characters pov, but makes me think that, yeah, in the right circumstances, she'll do what she wants, when she wants, and damn the consequences and it won't be about justice, it'll be about making herself feel good and she'll find the internal justification she needs to. "You can stand by -You can just watch bad people get away with it?" If the price of stopping one bad person is reigniting a WAR, um yeah, I can Veth. He's basically saying, don't cause more problems than you are going to fix by your actions, and interrogate your motivations and she wasn't having it. I think he might have gotten through to her in the end but I'm not sure because they "dissolved" using mouth sounds and hand waving into the next scene of Jester finding Marion.

There are many things that make me think this about her. Anger and desperation can cause people to make poor decisions. (I think you might have misconstrued the one bit where I was debating whether letting your family think you were dead and staying gone or just saying goodbye and abandoning them was actually worse or not, I personally vote dead being worse but I'm genuinely not sure, like I said. So, in that one aspect I think Veth's worse, but not for everything lol. The misguided hope left behind from what Liliana did might be worse.)

My point was that they both abandoned their families in order to solve a problem. Yes, Liliana left "voluntarily" right from the start in the sense that she wasn't kidnapped by goblins and transformed against her will, her "against her will change" was foisted upon her by a God Eater trapped in moon jail instead. She was essentially kidnapped by her own powers, she couldn't control them and needed to figure out what they were and how to deal with them. So yes, it was a choice for her to leave as you so aptly pointed out, just not quite as voluntary a choice as people keep presenting it as. I suppose it's more accurate for me to say it was Liliana's choice to leave, and Veth's choice to STAY gone (yes, even with the addition of the comic lore).

Don't you remember early campaign Imogen constantly having to be careful and worried about her telepathy? How it hurt her to be in large crowds? How her town DID treat her like garbage, like a pariah, "like an outright monster" even. It's not like Liliana left for fun. She was scared she was going to hurt someone if she didn't learn how to control herself, and worried that Imogen would develop those powers too. (That was her initial reasoning, and then things devolved of course). You said it yourself; The Grim Verity was taking too long, and she wanted to go home so she fell in with Ludinus and co because he promised answers and a solution.

Veth's initial separation from her family OBVIOUSLY wasn't her fault, and apparently in the comics she tried to go home and was run off for looking like a goblin. Well, that truly sucks for Comic Book Veth and she has my sympathy. There are still a variety of things she could have done, including once she befriended Caleb enough where she trusted him, have him go to Yeza in person and explain the curse and everything while she hid at the outskirts of town. She could have told Caleb a bunch of things only Veth would know to help convince Yeza, Etc.

At a certain point, Veth's Choice to stay away from her family was just as voluntary as Liliana's. She could have tried (or tried again if comics are canon) at any time, and she didn't. The problem wasn't solved so they "couldn't" go home and then events spiraled. Again, they aren't the same, I just think their situations parallel each other interestingly. Becoming "not a goblin" was not the only way for Veth to reunite with her family. It's perfectly understandable that she thought that it was considering all of her trauma and her shame and her fear, but that doesn't make it true. It was still an active choice that she made to not try to reunite with her family until she looked "normal" again, even once her circumstances had changed and she could have had help. She didn't try because she didn't want her family seeing her like that and because she was scared of what they would think. (Again, very understandable, but still a choice). What if Caleb couldn't find a way to change her back into a halfling? Would she never have gone home, continuing to look for a solution?

Liliana "couldn't" go home until she understood and could control her powers, a reasonable yet tragic decision, which then spiraled into it being that she "couldn't" go home until she helped "save" the world from the tyranny of the Gods, etc. Somewhat less reasonable I think you'll agree. How long does Veth's decision to not try (or not try again) to reunite with her family until she's no longer a goblin remain reasonable? One year? Five years? Ten years? It was a combination of luck and hard work that got her a new body as relatively fast as she did. Caleb and Essek meeting and becoming magic bffs might never have happened without Caleb's "I'm never going back to jail" moment in the Bright Queen's throne room for example lol.

More than all of that though, I'm not a huge fan of Veth's parenting while she IS present in Luc's life but seeing as Liliana hasn't really been present in Imogen's life for more than like a month, that's about where any parallels or comparisons stop lmfao. A lot of Veth's bad parenting once she's back in Luc's life is also due to the fact that Sam Riegel is a comedian first and an actor second so if he sees an opportunity to be funny, he'll pounce. Which unfortunately for poor Veth, does mean that if you look at her with a sober eye she comes across as a dreadful parent. Hilarious of course, but I did end up feeling bad for Yeza whenever I saw him futilely trying to be responsible whenever the M9 came trampling through their lives being bad influences. Honestly, she wonders why teenage Luc is like that! I learned it from watching you mom!

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

[lovesickhughes]

a/n: since i can’t sleep and this really is what’s on my mind

—

➳ all i can think about is how quinn would be such a physical touch type of boyfriend, but more so in the way that he craves your touch rather than displaying it.

➳ always having his hands on you any moment he can of course, but when you’re out in the city, exploring, when your arms would be interlinked, he’d make sure to have your hand be wrapped securely around his bicep.

➳ in a crowded venue he’d reach for your hand, fingers brushing against one another before he’d wrap his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers and him pulling you closer to his frame.

➳ he’d also take every opportunity to have his hand spread on the small of your back— the curve of your spine fitting like a key and lock with his touch. and when he’s talking to whoever he’d come across, the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist and hand holding your hip, would elicit a warm feeling throughout your entire body.

➳ the way he held you against his frame was similar to the way he had you pressed against his side while on the boat in the summer, the scorching sun burning down on your skin, but the feeling of quinn, further sent energy through your body. he’d toy with the tied bows of your bathing suit bottoms, mindlessly, as he conversed with his family and friends, or even when he just took in his surroundings.

➳ or when you’d be spending the weekend with his family and you were in need of some alone time with your beloved boy, he’d melt at the feeling of your hands tugging at his hoodie and when he turned to you, the feeling of your hands caressing his muscular forearms up to his shoulders and back down.

➳ and what you both craved the most, was the temptation of touch when spent alone in your shared space. he’d come home and the first thing he’d do would be to get his hands on you, feel the weight of a busy day dissipate at the contact of your waist in his hands. he’d nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your signature scent, and would pull your body closer to his— if that was even possible.

➳ he would be sure to grab your face, his large hand cupping the side of your jaw and nape of your neck and rush to kiss your lips. sharp breaths being sucked in at the contact. you’d let out a soft moan in response to the abrupt contact, but easily melt into his embrace as your own hands found their way to his brown curls.

➳ his favourite though? your touch when it’d be the two of you in bed, bodies pressed close together and the feeling of your fingers digging into his shoulders and desperately tugging at his hair, left a fire lighting through his body

➳ when you’d be baking or cooking, he’d walk up behind, sliding both hands on either side of you and pulling you back against his broad chest to take you in. he’d rest his head on your shoulder, simply at peace with your presence, and you jokingly swat away his hands when he slipped them under your shirt and farther up your torso.

➳ he simply loved touching you or having your touch to put all his stress and worries to ease

—

a/n: didn’t know i had that in me! i guess it’s just been lingering in the back of my head this last while! anyway, would totally be open to discussing more 🫶🏻

[delugyu]

thinking about bsf gyu (specifically your take on him) and he’s like pecking your lips “playfully” in hopes that maybe you kiss back (you never do) and all your friends hate him cause he’s so bad for you ughhhh love me a toxic possessive bsf

GAHHHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD.. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

(warnings: manipulation, kinda suggestive?)

best friend beomgyu who knows no boundaries… his hands linger in places that aren’t so friendly, his eyes trail over you with more heat than what friendship allows… but you always dismiss his actions and shrug it off as him being clingy.

his lips on your skin isn’t an entirely unfamiliar feeling. he’ll take your hand and kiss the back of it, and you meet his eyes to see a wide smile already adorning his face. how could you tell him off when he looks at you like that? he’ll wrap his arm around you during a movie night and turn to peck your cheek, completely unphased. the first time it happens, you try desperately to fight the heat that threatens to take over your face. you tell yourself this is normal, this is beomgyu. he’s just like that sometimes.

he starts getting braver, letting his hand rest so far up your thigh you’re scared to move and accidentally push him towards your center. his kisses to your cheek move closer and closer to your lips, but you don’t dare turn your head to reject his affections. his arm brings you closer and closer to him, until eventually you’re halfway onto his lap, legs thrown over his own and body pressed tight into his side.

the first time he places a peck against your lips, you can’t control the way your eyes bug out. all he does is laugh at your display of confusion, patting your head and calling you cute. the two of you were in public—not a very crowded place, but public nonetheless. you try to control the way your heart hammers against your chest. this is beomgyu. this is normal.

it’s not a one-time thing. the action follows into your homes, into your friend dates, into the car, truly anywhere beomgyu wants—but what’s most horrifying is when he does it in front of your friends.

“are you two dating now?” your friends ask you. you get texts and calls piling in, even from friends who weren’t at the stupid party with you and beomgyu. it’s a chore having to explain your dynamic to everyone, because no one believes you. no one thinks that beomgyu’s behavior is just friendly, no one thinks he’s being sweet or cute. it leaves you second guessing your friendship.

beomgyu’s offended when you bring it up to him. who are they to dictate what’s right and wrong in your relationship? they don’t know him like you do. you shouldn’t listen to them, they don’t get it. why do you even need them anyway? they’re just trying to split you apart.

you’re so unsure of everything now. your friends are adamant that this is weird, that he’s taking things too far. beomgyu is persistent in promising you everything’s okay, and even more persistent in telling you to stop listening to what everyone else is telling you.

“how about you just stop hanging out with them?” he suggests one day. “all they’re doing is making you confused. wasn’t it easier before they all came in convincing you of things that aren’t true?”

you don’t know. you feel like you’re in the middle of a tug of war, being pulled to either side, but you’re threatening to split now. you guess you should make a choice; it’s pretty clear you can’t have both beomgyu and your other friends in your life.

“if i stop hanging out with them, then i’d only have you,” you say. he doesn’t seem to find anything wrong with that. he takes your hands and pulls you close.

“is that a problem?” he asks in a whisper. you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks.

you know you can’t say the wrong thing here. he wouldn’t react well to anything other than the answer he’s expecting. “no,” you say.

he smiles at that, pressing a kiss to your lips. he got what he wanted, but he’s frowning when he looks at you again.

“what?” you ask, eyes darting between his, trying to find the issue.

“you never kiss me back,” he says. his frown doesn’t leave his face.

“i’m sorry.” you don’t know what else to say. his hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. he doesn’t conceal the longing or the hurt in his eyes. it pangs your heart.

“do you think it’s wrong?” he asks. you blink at him in confusion. “for me to kiss you?”

you try not to feel so nervous, but you can’t help the way you tense up a bit. he gives you an illusion of choice: if you say no, he’ll be happy, but if you say yes, he’ll be upset and pester you.

you look away and choose to not say anything. he grabs your waist and pulls you closer until you’re flush against him. your eyes land on his face again in shock.

you don’t get very long to question his action when his lips are on yours again the next second. you pull your head back and place a hand on his face to keep him from lunging at you again.

“everyone told me it was wrong,” you answer finally.

“are you them? or are you your own person?” he asks. he’s losing his patience, his eyes hold his irritation.

you pout. “i’m my own person…”

“that’s right. only we get to decide what we do as friends,” he spits out the last word as if it holds some sort of derogatory connotation. his mouth finds your jaw, and you gasp.

he pulls away to continue, “so this is okay… right?” he places a kiss on your neck.

you gulp and nod. you don’t want to argue with your best friend. “yes.”

[always-just-red]

Hello! Y'know that one line of Sylus talking about his muscles saying "They're not real. But they move." The way he casually admits to not being entirely human

Could I request something angsty where Sylus has an uncanny valley aura about him where you just FELL something's not right and Sylus is all :( cause he can't make the MC feel comfortable around him but it's not like he can fix it either

Just a quick little fic for this whilst I work on a longer fic! Realised like two paragraphs in that I had the opportunity to do the most evil thing ever, so I did!! 😇 I'm really proud of this one guys pls show it some love! And thanks for the prompt, anon! You are my co-conspirator in all this evilness, mwa ha ha DISCLAIMER: This work does not reflect the feelings of the author, who would die for Sylus! Wants to hold Sylus's face in her hands and tell him he is everything good and pure in this dark, cynical chess game we call life! 😎✨

Monster

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: A Deepspace Hunter's instincts never lie...

Genre: angst oh my GOSH so much angst

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, AU I guess as this is a different spin on an existing scene, *passes you some tissues* here you might need these! 🥰

| Word count: 800 | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You know monsters.

Earth-shattering. Sky-shearing. Teeth, reckless: always striving for something soft to sink into. To make a home in and to eviscerate. You’ve been grazed by it— kissed by that violence more times than you can count— and you are not soft anymore; there isn’t space for it. There are scars and then there’s armour, the kind you carry with you, the kind you couldn’t shed if you tried, and you haven’t tried, because why would you?

Horror isn’t loud and cataclysmic, it’s quiet. It’s those few seconds before your Hunter’s watch signals a fluctuation of Metaflux. A premonition, trained, or maybe just human instinct, raw and vulnerable: something is wrong, here. That prickle on your skin— the tip of that claw, raked, snaked down your spine. You feel it whenever a Wanderer lurks in the shadows, or beneath a stretch of water that’s unfathomably deep and far, far too still.

Sometimes, you feel it when you look at Sylus.

I know monsters.

Before you, a fragment of a mural tells a very old story, and beside you, a red-eyed man is thinking of flowers. It’s late, and the museum is quiet. You look at the fragment’s centre, where a female warrior is plunging a blade through a dragon’s heart. “Look,” you say, nodding at the figure with a half-smile. “My predecessor.”

Sylus hums thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“Because that looks like a standard Tuesday to me. Some things never change, huh?”

But other things do. With a chuckle, Sylus draws closer to you. The rumble of his laughter is warm and familiar, and his hand is near yours as he bends to examine the mural. He wants you to take it, to thread your fingers through his like you do when you resonate, when you need his power and he needs yours, except neither of you need it now. Why, then?

You know. Of course you know.

The man is all softness, voice and gaze like an afternoon sun in late summer that lulls you to sleep with thick, golden light. Always trying to evoke a dream. It’s weakness, it’s the dragon on the mural with a split heart, bleeding, and you’ll never understand why Sylus wears his on his sleeve.

It’ll be the death of him, one day. It’s set in stone. Right here.

When Sylus touches you— when the tip of his finger catches yours and makes an honest, desperate request— you don’t pull away. Something inside tugs at you, warns you, tells you a monster without a sword in its chest is one that can bite. What colour of blood would your hands prefer? His? Your own?

Your veins are cold and something is wrong, but no, you don’t pull away, because Sylus knows monsters too. Some declare themselves with twisted horns, razorlike wings and a long, barbed tail. Others declare themselves with something as subtle as a touch, withdrawn.

When Sylus steps away from you, that gash of dread closes up inside you. Heals like his wounds: no mess, no scar, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He’s had a long time to look at the mural, and he smiles wistfully at the woman at its centre. “Some things never change,” he echoes, and it sounds as though there’s blood in his lungs, his throat, and that he has to swallow it down to say anything at all. It must sting.

“All in a day’s work for a Deepspace Hunter,” you joke flatly. You’re not even sure Sylus hears it.

Both of you stare at your fragment of history: an execution, a liberation. A matter of perspective. “Maybe…” Sylus begins, but then thinks better of it.

“Maybe what?”

He’s seeing something you don’t.

“Maybe what, Sylus?”

He spares you a glance. “The pose,” he says, indicating the warrior. “It’s ambiguous. Perhaps she isn’t slaying the beast, she could be—”

“Saving it?”

You’re considering a new perspective. Tapping a finger against your cheek as you lock eyes with your history— that elusive dream— ever oblivious to what’s behind you:

There’s a look of sheer, infinite longing— a gaze that’s been empty of you for too long, so sick of starvation, and determined to have its fill in the few, fleeting moments it can. It’s ravenous: dangerous, sharp, and irrevocably yours, if you would only turn around.

There are teeth and claws, but they’re all of them tame, and that makes them soft, doesn’t it? You could trust them on your skin. Turn around.

You do, and you are not the girl from the mural who tucked wildflowers into his hair and who sung him a song he still hears in his sleep. Sylus’s heart aches.

You are the girl from the mural who’s slaying a dragon, because it’s the oldest story, the only story.

Your eyes harden.

“Who would pull out a sword to save a monster?”

[sapphiclesbli]

I could give you a massage, I'm really good at them. think about it, you naked under me, laying down on a towel, me straddling your ass and starting to oil you up. Finally having an excuse to grope you. Maybe I'd tease you before starting, my hands trailing under your towel when there's clearly no need to, touching parts of your body i know are sensitive and others turn you on. Just to get you all worked up for me. Maybe while massaging you I'd be grinding on whatever I can to get some friction on my clit. of course after a while you would guess what I'm up to and will probably mock me for it, being so desperate for you. But can you blame me when you're just looking oh so hot underneath me. All the lines and curves of your body are perfection, your muscles and the sounds you make when I massage somewhere you feel tense... and it's not like I'm the only pervert here. I know you love feeling my hands on you, feeling my every move. The breaks I take to just feel your skin, sliding my fingers upon your curves, taking my time to feel you, my fingers being so close to where you want me to touch you. that one touch that could make us both forgot about this massage session and turn it into a hot and desperate make out session or more. it's intimate, even more than that it's erotic

can you tell I love physical touch?

I'm not used to writing stuff

[hihigherdi]

She’s home.

I’ve thought about this painting every single day since I saw it. I went back today in pursuit of another errand but I had it on my heart so stopped by to see if it was still in the gallery. It was. I asked the owner what the price was, he recognized me and said “you had a strong connection to this piece, I could see it.”

My eyes filled up and I choked out, I am in the final stages of breast cancer treatment and I see myself in her. That’s probably narcissistic but I cry each time I look at it, I feel it in my heart somehow. That I’m alive and I’m moving and it’s with intention now. I’ve thought about her everyday. So I’m going to buy it, I think that’s what art is supposed to do.

He got emotional and whispered he’d lost his sister to breast cancer 10 years ago. Stage 4. We hugged goodbye for a long time.

Sometimes you just know it’s the time to talk about it.

I put it in my room, it will be the first thing I see when I wake up. It was pretty reasonable for art (I guess?) and the artist just got a piece in the Triton Museum which is so cool, that’s a local museum here in Santa Clara.

The owner took my info and asked if he could share the story with her and I said yes yes yes. Please do. Thank her for me.

I put it where the painting of Mary and Jesus was, a picture that hung in my mom’s chapel. I realized that I can love, honor, respect my mom’s faith for how it healed her but it’s ok I don’t take it in myself. I don’t think my mom in her heart of hearts would have wanted that anyway.

When I was making a lot of money, I rarely spent it. I’m barely making ends meet now and I’m spending a lot, particularly on my home. It’s always been important but now I’m making choices out of what I love, what I want most instead of that desperate hunger to create a home. It’s different, I’m not sure what’s changed. I found a chair that feels like you’re sitting in a cloud. And it’s a recliner. I’m getting it.

I also spontaneously said yes to meeting some of my best friends in Cabo San Lucas. I leave on Saturday. I called one of them randomly a couple of days ago and she’d just landed there - there are so many grey whales and humpbacks in that specific location right now having their calves. S called me later from the beach and said “ I just saw a whale spout on my walk. We have two extra rooms in the Airbnb, so free place to stay, can you come?”

I said no. And then I said yes and burst into tears. It’s for three nights which is perfect. A trip to the mall knocked me out today, this anemia is no joke so a big trip freaks me out but no one expects me to perform or be on. It’s just to love and be loved by lovely people. I feel ok leaving the cats for that length of time though leaving them is always the worst part.

Your girl is definitely in her healing era, maybe in more ways than one.

[lovelizards]

What's wrong? Have you never been with a human before? I'll take it nice and easy on you, don't worry."

"Wait...I - I think there's been a misunderstanding...I'm - I'm just a server -"

Molly squirmed in the man's lap, trying to get away, pushing against him - but he had a heavy hand on her waist, keeping her still. His other hand was slowly, gently sliding up her legs, lifting her skirt with it.

"You're a cute little thing. For a halfling, anyway. Even cuter than some of the human women I've been with!"

This couldn't be happening.

She'd always been warned away from humans, everyone in the village talked about how violent they were, how they preyed on halfling women. But she'd never given that any stock, all the humans she'd met had been so nice.

"Sir - please! Stop! I'm - I'm the -"

"The owner's daughter, I know."

A cold fear filled her.

Her father was the one who'd asked her to deliver drinks to the human's room in the inn, even though it wasn't usually a service they provided. He said he was an important guest...so make an exception for him.

The human's hand ventured further up her legs, calmly, gently, his fingers smoothing over her thighs.

"W - wait! Please, don't - I - I don't know what kind of trouble my father is in, but I'm not - you - you can't - agh!"

The human clamped down hard on her leg, and with his other hand wrenched her arm up hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Yet still, his smile was gentle and calm.

"I've always liked smallfolk, you're so easy to hold, and so easy to break..." he said, clenching his fist and crushing her arm. Molly screamed, clutching at his chest, trying to break free.

The pain was unbearable, like her arm was caught in a vice.

"St - stop! Please - please!" She cried, "You'll break my arm! A- agh!"

"Oops," the human laughed, letting go with a grin, "I guess I got a little excited. Should I get you excited first?"

Still reeling from the pain, Molly tried to push his hand away, the hand that had disappeared fully under her skirt. The hand that was rubbing eagerly between her legs, like some great monster begging for entrance.

"Don't do this..." she sobbed, then let out an embarrassing squeal as he grabbed her chest with the full of his hand, pulling her close against his body, and groping her roughly with huge fingers, "Stop -! Let me go - please! I - I don't want to -!"

But the human continued to play with her, pulling her in close against a growing bulge in his lap, and slipping his fingers past her undergarments to rest them against the heat between her legs.

"Shh, just enjoy it," he whispered, biting at her ear, "I'll make it feel good for you, too."

"No!" She beat against his chest, and fought a losing battle against his strength. No matter how she tried to wriggle out of his grip, he had her firmly where he wanted her.

Waves of unwanted pleasure, and shocks of pain from her arm mixed together and made her nauseous. Molly tried desperately to think. What could she do? What could she say to escape?

"If you - if you don't stop..." Molly choked out, "I - I'll run screaming to the guards! I'll go all the way - to - to the capitol city and petition the king himself!"

She was crying as she yelled at him, and most likely didn't seem the most threatening force at that moment. But she realized that the human's advances had stopped.

So she kept going.

"If - if you don't let me go, l will never let you know peace! And I will curse you, even - even when I die, I will haunt you the rest of your days!"

There was a long, terrible moment where Molly waited - like a fly in a spider's web - to see if her words had worked. Humans, she'd always been told, were a superstitious lot.

"Haah," the human sighed, "you really are a frigid little bitch, huh?"

He held his hands up in defeat. Molly scrambled out of his lap and made a rush for the door. Once she was safe, she would -!

She yelped as the human caught her wrist.

"Wh...what are you -?"

"The old man still owes a debt. And since you don't want to open your legs for me, I'll have to make an example of you a different way."

"N...no - no!"

He cracked her across the face with the back of his hand. His rings caught the soft of her cheek and drew blood. Molly went sprawling onto the floorboards, coughing violently, gasping for breath.

"This is why I hate loaning money to half-men," the human sighed, then grunted as he landed a hard kick to Molly's ribs. She could barely scream, and felt something in her chest crack.

"St - stop -" she wheezed, but the human kicked her again, this time sending her rolling across the floor until she hit the stones of the empty hearth.

"You, and your deadbeat father, this shitty little village. It all could have been so much easier."

Molly tried to push herself up, tried to get her shaking legs underneath her, but the human was on her in an instant, and pulled her up by a handful of her hair.

"A...aghh...let go..."

Her eyes were scrunched tightly closed. She didn't want to be here. Didn't want to anticipate whatever attack was coming next.

But she flinched as the human's lips crashed down onto hers, and his tongue forced its way into her mouth. She pushed and scratched at his neck, and when that didn't work, she bit down hard on his tongue.

The human roared in pain, and threw her against the bricks of the hearth. Her head hit the mantle hard, and a stream of hot blood washed down her forehead as she hit the ground.

"You little -! Damn it!"

The human spat on her, a mouthful of blood and saliva right into her hair. Molly lay on the ground, her face protected, hidden in her arms.

Everything felt broken, everything hurt. Her body, her pride. Tears stung in the wound on her cheek, and pooled on the ground under her.

"This is the thanks I get," the human laughed. "Fine. It's just as well."

He landed one more solid kick to her back, and then his footsteps receded. Molly waited, and then dared to peek her eyes out from a curtain of dirty, tangled hair. The human was sitting at the desk across the room.

She watched, in a daze, as he lit a pipe, and then picked up a quill.

Was it...was it finally over...?

Slowly, achingly, Molly pulled herself up onto her feet.

Her dress and apron were ruined with dirt and blood. She was sure her face was an absolute state. She had to clean herself up.

Something jarred in her chest with every step, but she shuffled her way back across the room, as quickly as she could move, and out the door to safety.

[0zingt0n]

Oc has been created! (Still a work in progress, with the lore and coloring and such, but these are all the doodles I have—I’m just like way too excited to wait to post them💔)

This is Ellys (El-iss) Belmont! Most of their info I have to share is in the drawing…so here’s some details!

• Ellys is a newcomer, and goes by the stage name “Blue Lightning”

• You can’t tell because there’s no color, but they’re supposed to have a blue streak in the middle of their bangs that goes all the way down their hair

• Their attire is all blue (guess what their favorite color is), and there are lines on the sides of their tank top that connect to lines on the sides of their shorts…it makes a lightning bolt (you understand where the name came from now?)

• Ellys trains with their twin brother, who is the reason they box…

BOOM HE’S HERE TOO!!

Introducing Myles Belmont, Ellys’ twin brother! (“hey…twins in boxing..?” I know…so unoriginal…but there’s a twist!)

• Myles was originally supposed to be a boxer, but before his first match, he got performance anxiety and got sick, desperately begging Ellys to take his place

• Myles is the confident and extroverted twin (which made it surprising to Ellys that he chickened out before his fight), contrasting with Ellys’ naturally calm, self-reserved, and introverted twin

• Myles and Ellys get along really well! When they changed their names during their transitions, they wanted to match in a way (both names replace i’s with y’s)

• After Ellys won the fight as Myles’ sub, Myles was blown away with their skill. He tried to convince Ellys to keep boxing in his place. Ellys worried about revealing they weren’t actually Myles—because they were afraid that the WVBA wouldn’t allow a nonbinary boxer to fight the male boxers (turns out the rules are pretty loose, though…)—so they continued to fight under this “alter ego”

• Another one of their worries was that the audience wouldn’t like Ellys over Myles. Ellys had to put on a show to be their loud and outgoing brother, which was…kind of freeing. Ellys feared that if they went out there as themself, the fans would think they were weird. And strange. And awkward. And—

• While this charade was going on, the twins concocted a plan! Ellys would cut their hair shorter to look like Myles, and Myles would add a blue streak in his hair to look like Ellys (a fair trade, since they both loved their own hairstyles).

• Ellys would fight in the ring as Myles, while during interviews, Myles would just be himself! Ellys was too afraid to be on camera and mess up…but apparently Myles was just fine (oh. he must ENJOY the attention…even though he got sick due to stagefright…<hey it’s different okay? you don’t have to fight the guy interviewing you.>)

• The plan works well, aside from one crucial detail that obsessed reporters point out. Blue Lightning in the ring has a tooth gap, but not during interviews…what can this mean?

At some point, Ellys is tired of pretending to be Myles because they don’t want to pretend to be someone they’re not, and they’re afraid of getting caught and getting in trouble.

And also because Myles takes credit for everything during the interviews. Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem seeing as they look to be the same person, but deep down, Ellys wishes that was them in his place. They get into arguments over this, until finally one day Ellys impulsively reveals their identity. (Today is NOT that day, though!)

I stayed up until 2am drawing all of these. I had SO many ideas welling up inside of me…I’m glad I’m spilling them all finally😭

Anywho! If you want to ask any questions about them, feel free to send me some!! I’d love to annsswweerrr theeeemmmm!!!!!

[bluestringpuppeteer]

This is already so much lighter than it had been minutes before, and Legato feels amusement bubbling up in his throat. Actual amusement, damn near cheeriness in contrast with the desperate fight for clarity hours ago.

A laugh tumbles unchecked from his throat as he follows Badou and closes up behind them.

"That would be awfully mean of me, if I paid you back by tossing you off my bike at the first turn. But maybe funny for a bit," he teases with a little grin that's wide enough to show teeth and make gold eyes brighter. "Hard to find the place you want to go though, if I don't have your directions. So I guess I'll have to be nice."

Granted he could have them go to Legato's business, but he doesn't think the other man would want his coworkers to see him like this. That's his comfort place, aside from their home, there's a sacred boundary, a line there.

No, he knows just the place.

"Thank god I haven't driven with any of you guys." Badou's driving isn't much better. But he takes the helmet from Legato and heads for the door. "So you've got to prove yourself-- DON'T let me fall!"

He'll make Legato's life even more hellish with his whining.

[skitskatdacat63]

One makes him up, so the other can break him down.

This is a little terrifying but hello!! Posted my first fic on ao3!! I would've saved the illustrations for the fic's eyes only, but I'm too happy with them haha. Hope you'll still go on to read regardless!!

As always, my thoughts and progress, since I can't help myself:

I'm soooooo proud of these. I never ever really do dramatic lighting, so I'm really surprised that I pulled it off.

It's surreal actually posting this because for a while, I've thought about how if I ever post a fic, I'll have to make illustrations too because I can't do anything not full force. Look at me now! I'm shocked. Also didn't think I'd finish it tonight, but here it sits before you nevertheless(though as always, I'm writing this past my bedtime before class, time efficient as always.) So with that being said, here are some notes, though if I had known I'd be writing this so soon, I would've prepared more lol.

First of all, I hope it's clear both of these are Mark's perception. Gah, the fact that his face is the only one you can see clearly. The first is obviously him unwillingly fantasizing about what exactly went down last night.

Aghhhhh the difference in colors and settings of the two drawings is so important to me. The warmth and intimacy of the bed behind curtains in the first one, and the coldness and openess of the second. It's so clear Mark feels like he's been distanced, like he's been ousted. It's like he's been thrown outside on a cold winter's day, no longer able to feel the heat from the comfortable warm stove inside.

Mark was probably assigned to Seb bcs he has a much greater appreciation for the Spanish etiquette, which Seb has very little interest in. He'll abide by it when he absolutely has to. But he's just a very non-typical Emperor. People find it charming so it's not a public death sentence for him, but it is an issue. Thus, Mark is there to keep him in line. Though important to note that when Fernando, who has an equal if not greater respect for the showmanship of etiquette, realizes Mark is interested in that as well, they start warming up to each other.

The inherent disrespect of Fernando just. Throwing Seb's clothing onto the floor. Meanwhile he probably took like, 20 minutes folding his up(that's what Seb was gonna tell Mark at the end of the fic.) Borderline ripping off Seb's clothes only to edge him. Its not even like the ripping off the clothes is because of passion or anything, he's deliberately being an asshole. Don't worry Nandl, Seb's turned on by it!

So sorry to marknando fans if their dynamic feels like a complete 180 haha. Its not like I'm like, they actually hate each other!! It's just their relationship under completely different circumstances. They're like two dogs in a dog fight, they don't have any real reason to hate each other, but they're put against each other regardless. They don't understand their hatred, just know that they have it and that they're supposed to have it. The inherent hatred the mistress has for the spouse, and vice versa. If they actually were able to talk without barriers, they'd realize they actually get along pretty well. They kinda just hate each other because of their respective relationships to Seb. And then there's Seb who's mostly completely oblivious to his effect, though of course plays with it a bit.

Seb's marriage completely recontextualizes their relationship in Mark's eyes. Though there's something incredibly sado-masochistic about the way he can't blame Seb for it at all. He's a loyal dog after all. But when it was just them, he was obviously Seb's main companion and lover. Seb definitely slept with people on the side, but Mark brushed that off: 1. Bcs its very period typical. 2. He was the main, they were the side, what more needs to be said! But now *he's* the side piece, and is left wondering if their relationship was down to proximity alone. Not to pull a Mark and completely excuse Seb, but it's not. Just very different perceptions of love and relationships. And again, as I've mentioned before, he was raised to always be the most important person in the room, so he obviously has very different understandings, especially since he's always the center.

NANDL!!!!!! In my Habsburg book I've been reading lately, they randomly referred to one of them affectionately as "Nandl" and it's stuck in my head ever since. Can we start a movement to canonize that as an official Fernando nickname? I'm sooooo fond of it, I litrally ended the fic that way just so I could shoehorn that nickname in.

Speaking of the ending. It was really tough, I almost wanted to have Fernando burst in, looking for his ring, and then coming across whatever that is. But I didn't want to disrupt their moment anymore, it felt cruel. Though shame I couldn't mention that the reason why Seb's pants are nowhere to be found is because Fernando accidentally put them on and didn't realize till he was out of the room.

*I FORGOT TO POINT OUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS! Truly the danger of writing a post while falling asleep. There's something so incredibly funny to me the way they're talking so refined and then Seb just throws out: "that guy." It's a way to show his own disrespect of Fernando, not even using his name, implying he's just some guy(nur ein Kerl.) I laughed writing it cause it reminds me of the random dry humor anecdotes I've read lately.

[spiderman2-99]

Let me assign you an affection language.

A Knife Called Grief You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

[yoinked from iobartach]

[froggy-nebula]

vriska is really funny cause when you look at the shit she actually does shes not the best at manipulating people or flarp or combat she just cant win at any of her hobbies

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[notasapleasure]

Kay, thanks for this link, reading the essay was almost quasi-religious to this lifelong atheist. It's an absurdly optimistic piece and all the more rebellious for it, I think.

I could quote so much more from it, but perhaps this is the most relevant bit right now...

For radicals, fetishizing the guillotine is just like fetishizing the state: it means celebrating an instrument of murder that will always be used chiefly against us.

Those who have been stripped of a positive relationship to their own agency often look around for a surrogate to identify with—a leader whose violence can stand in for the revenge they desire as a consequence of their own powerlessness. In the Trump era, we are all well aware of what this looks like among disenfranchised proponents of far-right politics. But there are also people who feel powerless and angry on the left, people who desire revenge, people who want to see the state that has crushed them turned against their enemies.

Reminding “tankies” of the atrocities and betrayals state socialists perpetrated from 1917 on is like calling Trump racist and sexist. Publicizing the fact that Trump is a serial sexual assaulter only made him more popular with his misogynistic base; likewise, the blood-drenched history of authoritarian party socialism can only make it more appealing to those who are chiefly motivated by the desire to identify with something powerful.

-Anarchists in the Trump Era

Now that the Soviet Union has been defunct for almost 30 years—and owing to the difficulty of receiving firsthand perspectives from the exploited Chinese working class—many people in North America experience authoritarian socialism as an entirely abstract concept, as distant from their lived experience as mass executions by guillotine. Desiring not only revenge but also a deus ex machina to rescue them from both the nightmare of capitalism and the responsibility to create an alternative to it themselves, they imagine the authoritarian state as a champion that could fight on their behalf. Recall what George Orwell said of the comfortable British Stalinist writers of the 1930s in his essay “Inside the Whale”:

“To people of that kind such things as purges, secret police, summary executions, imprisonment without trial etc., etc., are too remote to be terrifying. They can swallow totalitarianism because they have no experience of anything except liberalism.”

[brofightiscancelled]

ok kind of an insane ask so feel free to ignore but would you be able to translate "友達バリア" by deco*27? i can't find any translations online and i wanna see if i'm right about the song kind of fitting the matsus... it's also a banger imo

- vocamatsu anon

omg.... tbh i have a feeling deco will make a video for this one which means we'll get an official english translation of it, rendering this completely redundant, but i'm really cheesed to have been asked, so i gave it a shot for you anyways <3

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown I'm outmatched- but it's not over yet! I won't let this end! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

The despair of never getting anything more of this Your behavior, nor what's going on in your head- I can't read it at all! I can't help but envy the kindness you radiate Omnidirectional compatibility- it's just not for me

Carefully-picked down-played words The outcome: A bloody heart True feelings double-crossed by embarrassment; how frustrating, I'm changing sides But that won't fill up my heart What I want is nothing more than to be by your side If you've got something to say, then say it- 'til I defeat you, that is! 3, 2, 1!

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown I'm outmatched- but it's not over yet! I won't let this end! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

I want you to like me! I want you to like me! Friend-zoned, love fire, hey, say "I give up"! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

Fun things, good feelings- without you, they have no taste at all Sadness, jealousy- if they're cuz of you, then I don't mind them Let's throw down, bro! Better to regret doing it, than not doing it at all! A feeling like I won't need any special moves, YEAH I'm sure everything will be OKAY With an endless supply of love, you're undefeated, AYE Play dead, BYE BYE I'll be the one to throw the first punch

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown The lonely and timid me is already no more! With a dazzling, blazing flair, I'll burn through your defenses!

Do you like me yet? Do you like me yet? Friend-zoned, love fire, now, let's immerse ourselves in love! With a dazzling, blazing flair, a never-ending HAO sweetener battle!

Do you like me yet? Do you like me yet? Friend-zoned, love fire, now, let's immerse ourselves in love! With a dazzling, blazing flair, a never-ending HAO sweetener battle!

------

my notes:

my overall interpretation of this song is "I'm trying to break through the friend zone (friendship barrier) so that you like me instead of thinking of me as a friend", so any vagueness in translation went in that direction

The use of "lock horns" in the official translation snippet + the HAO motifs give me the mental image of like, a hand-to-hand kung fu battle, so I leaned towards that imagery whenever there was vagueness (as opposed to like, a military campaign, for example)

deco's official english translations tend to be very liberal, so i tried to keep my translation a little more literal

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍