#vomit draft

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[shorthaltsjester]

endlessly thinking thoughts about cr characters, morality, and selfishness (likely place for me to be, given that my day job includes endlessly researching ethics and meaning of life) but in light of bell’s hells most recent illustration of their insularity and individualism, I’ve been really like. Trying to unpack why I find it particularly egregious in this party when obviously mighty nein were notoriously self-interested, especially at the beginning, and when vox machina had quite a few moments where their horses were far higher than they had any reason to be. And again, I really want to make it clear her that I don’t hold self-interest or selfishness to be some abhorrent and unforgivable thing, in fact I think its incredibly normal especially given the context of main characters in a story told through game mechanics that flourish on the interest of the individuals making the choices. I’ve written before about how one of the throughlines that I’ve seen in laura’s pcs (since I’m someone who particularly enjoys looking at the moral outlooks characters develop) is a common thread of morality that’s highly dependent on their own interests. And like, this is a positive throughline to me! Without getting into my own views on morality, it is particularly compelling to me for characters with isolated upbringing (which applies to vex, jester, and imogen, each in different ways) to develop a moral code informed by that isolation, and in vex we see her moral code is ‘anything goes if it protects those I hold dear’, in jester we see a moral code that doesn’t care about morality as much as it cares about the chance to care and be cared for, and in imogen we see a moral code developed in response to her very unique experience of hearing the darkest parts of people and judging them on those (which to be clear, i am not judging her for that fact, I think it makes extreme sense for someone who hears the thoughts the people have to be horrified by those things, but it does mean her moral system is almost completely backwards, where intention holds more weight than action, which perhaps makes sense of the popularity of defending all of her ideas and choices and the Right Ones by certain parts of the fandom that insist leftism is hidden in the dnd real play). And that’s all to say that, out of the cr parties we’ve seen, I don’t think any single member of bell’s hells is uniquely more or less selfish or more or less of an asshole than previous characters. And in fact, I tend to be quite fond of selfish characters, I have a well documented history of cherishing them well beyond the cr fandom. But the point is that my calling something or someone self-interested is not a value judgement in this context, it's a descriptive claim about the traits a character exhibited.

Imogen, who has insisted time and time again re: the values of the accord that she would not be swayed by the temptation of predathos because she recognizes the importance of this fight, only to turn around and pretty immediately open herself up to predathos to fulfil the most threatening part of ludinus’ plan is self-interested. I cannot conceive of any other way to describe her choices. And her being self-interested doesn’t mean she can’t also be altruistic at times, but I will be clear that I don’t think her risking killing herself as she attempts to bring down the god-eater that she released is particularly selfless. In my best faith interpretation I’d say she’s pretty middle of the road in that choice. But I bring all this up because a comparison I’ve been seeing is that bell’s hells aren’t as mean as the mighty nein or even vox machina in certain moments and that it doesn’t make sense for the fandom to view bell’s hells as likely to be villains when the same wasn’t true of the previous two campaigns, and I think I have to pretty emphatically disagree, and not because I don’t think there aren’t moments in both campaigns that feature extremely high levels of assholery and villainry from pcs – I mean, some of my favourite cr characters are percy and jester, both of whom i’d say are ‘good guys’ due to the pure luck of the found familys they fell in with and both of whom often suggested plans that were. Not okay. To say the least. But ignoring the difference between suggesting fucked up plans and walking your god-eater infused bestie back towards the troops sent to support you in keeping that entity contained, the other big difference I’ve noticed in my own introspection on how I react to bh vs mn and vm, as well as which things i cherish about previous campaigns that were really missing from c3 to what I think is the story and the character’s detriment (staying away from the shape of the narrative, just because others have made posts that put words together better about that than I can) is that while members of vm and mn remained self-interest to the end of their campaigns and have reasserted those habits in appearances since, the parties as entities working in exandria had both, to echo ashton’s apt suggestion to ludinus, grown up.

Like one moment I think of is beau and fjord’s convo in the nein hells episode, because beau is being her asshole self and fjord is being his ‘I care about My People and I’ll think about the rest later’ self (i say affectionately but certain parts of the fandom I recognize would view derogatorily) – clearly they’re not the kindest people as they discuss bell’s hells, but two notable things are (a) they still treat the hells with the respect and use their means to help them prepare for the battle coming, even when they hear the horrifying thought that the hells aren’t certain they’ll choose to save the gods, all the nein request is that they choose the kind option (b) they say none of their doubts to the hells themselves – likely because they have the empathy to realizes that its a high stress situation that won’t be made better by a reminding the hells how small and likely ineffectual in the universe they are – and their comments about cannon fodder are ones made in jest to each other. Even taking that in the worst faith interpretation, the jokes that beau and fjord make in a private conversation has absolutely zero influence on bh. This is quite different than bells hells, after like. as clearly betraying the accord they promised to assist (even if their intentions are ‘good’) as is possible, belittling the religious armies sent to support their endeavor to keep predathos sealed as they all feel the weight of an irrevocable change occurring in exandria, one bells hells has first account knowledge now that it IS incredibly willing to eat mortals, and laudna and ashton, the members of bells hells most often cited by certain fandom spaces as characters who have gone through so much and it only made them kind and strong, look into the faces of people facing literally existential threat and laugh and mock them. That is, mighty nein as individuals is comprised of some of the, perhaps, most asshole pcs, but The Mighty Nein as a party is committed to treating others the best they can, to leaving things better than they found them (a quote that I think is particularly exemplary of the dynamics of self-interest at play in the mighty nein, since it originated as a blatant illustration of molly’s notion of self-importance but developed to become a kind of commandment that the nein became committed to fulfilling). The opposite is true of bell’s hells, where orym and dorian at least both seem to have motivation beyond themselves, imogen’s changes but has shown she is capable of letting go of her ‘intention reigns’ requisitely individualistic perspective, and chetney plays up his selfishness but has shown himself to care quite a bit for people beyond their party but bell’s hells as an entity is uh, pretty self-interested.

To clarify some of my thoughts here in the spirit of the wicked renaissance happening rn, I’ve always felt that for good was an incredibly apt song for the mighty nein, because it really nails that feeling that perhaps they didn’t change each other as individuals to become better people on the grand scale, maybe they’ve just changed each other permanently, but they (and I would agree with this) view each other as having changed each other for the better (e.g., I don’t know if I could say whether jester is a morally better Individual at the end of the campaign, but I can say with certainty that she fulfils and makes moral choices in her work as a member of the mighty nein). And I don’t know if this can be said about bell’s hells – I think they have certainly influenced each other and changed how alone many of those characters felt, and that is not a slight on the story, it can be a great centre for a story to focus on how a relinquishment of the feeling that one is alone in the world can change them. But for the most part, that hasn’t been bh’s story, their story instead has been about validating their refusal to become anything beyond what they insist was out of their control. And not to get to annoying philosophy student about it but bell’s hells are maybe some of the most explicit examples of sartrian bad faith I’ve seen in fiction in a hot minute, because their insistence that they treat their wounds as incurable and entirely out of their hands has led to them limiting their own potential because many of them ignore their responsibility as people to make choices in their own lives. In contrast, at the end of the campaign, mighty nein are still assholes as we all like to refer to them as, but in the context of an apocalypse, I think I’d prefer the assholes like fjord – who is certainly being truthful when he says he doesn’t care about what harm comes to 200 people when jester is at risk but who also, as they traverse into aeor, is insistent that their group won’t be running away from whatever apocalyptic threat awaits them, even if that means dying in the fight – than I would an asshole like ashton – who promises to fight for the little guys but who then turns around and acts upon a philosophy that says the strongest will survive. When you look at the mighty nein, it is incredibly easy to see the fingerprints of change they’ve left upon one another, and even to see the boundaries they place on one another’s asocial behaviours through their presence in one another’s lives (more recently the group chastising jester’s fond words about ludinus is a good example, but others are yasha’s pressuring caleb and essek to move on from their wizard talks as they collect paper in aeor instead of venturing further toward the battle they have to fight, or fjord and jester’s frustrated conversation in the ukotoa reunion about how fjord made a stupid decision and he doesn’t regret but he feels dejected and jester checking him on the fact that they still need to figure out a solution). It takes some extrapolation to see how bells hells have changed each other in more than aesthetic ways, if they have at all. Because the catalyst for change is pressure to do so, and aside from moments where it was truly change or be left behind, bh doesn’t challenge each other unless forced to by morri’s trials or delilah’s interruption and on the very odd occasion an interesting game of rollies-spin-the-bottle. 

And it’s interesting because the asshole behaviour of the mighty nein, like bell’s hells, stems from being left on the outskirts of society and the mistreatment that comes with that, so seemingly the change from being alone to being with others is one that actually insists upon being challenged to grow and change. I mean, just looking at the starting points of the characters, there’s an intriguing amount of stark similarities between their pasts; jester and fearne were both people loved dearly by the family they grew up with but who were loved within the confines of a gilded cage, ashton and beau both have an glaring self awareness that their anger at the world has a very particular source (their parents) but use that as justification rather than a means of self reflection, yasha and orym are trying to navigate a world in the wake of an incomprehensible loss and a sense of duty, fjord and imogen are both seeking out knowledge of their own powers and unknowingly retreading the paths of their missing and presumed dead parental figures. The idea that bell’s hells are uniquely mistreated by society in the history of cr player characters is, politely, laughable. Absolutely they’re mistreated, and I think it could be fair to say these characters are more defined by their isolation than others but I think that has more to do with the lack of downtime rp than it has to do with the context of their suffering.

What I have loved about the mighty nein is that in their realization that the bonds they forge with each other are undermining the truths most of them had taken to be true – that they were alone and without a place in the world – they are also forced to realize that no longer being alone and isolated comes with the weight of social responsibility. And this was born out of a willingness the mighty nein had to call each other out and that the players had to allow their characters to be wrong and get called on it. Because that’s the friction of living with other people on the small party scale and the large world scale – in the mighty nein’s ability to survive as a people who cared for each other even when they didn’t agree or when they made decisions that they couldn’t understand, they were constantly developing their ability to care for the very same world that left them alone. Because in campaign two, the world as a whole had the role that the gods have in campaign 3 – why should a party of nobodies, treated like shit by the world and the people in it go through the effort of saving it?

And the mighty nein answered, in their own imperfection and assholery, that nothing is ever just one thing – one of the things I cherish most about campaign 2 is its commitment to ambiguity, allowing the complexity of the world to go unsolved because there is no solution to the fact that life is immense and sometimes incoherent. I don’t think its a coincidence that I’ve seen some of the people lamenting the idiocy of fandom members like me who think that it actually isnt a leftist win to destroy the world in the hopes of spontaneous justice arising in c3 are the same people who criticised c2’s conclusion with the cerberus assembly for not being leftist (a word which for them means . the aesthetic image of a rebellion sparked and not the unending commitment to doing what you practically can to make life more just for those around you – whether they’re particularly kind to you or not) enough. The conclusion of c2 emphasizes that the choice to make the world a better place isn’t something that can be achieved in one single sweeping action that will wipe the boards clean – there is no murder of all the members of the cerberus assembly that would’ve solved the problems that caused the assembly’s power. There is no forcing of the god’s out of exandria that will deal with the actual issue undergirding both bh and their blorbo-moralized fans' criticism of the gods, which is that mortals are cursed with the burden of free will, and being mistreated by other mortals means constantly having to try and make sense of the fact that someone chose to do something cruel to you (and, sometimes, that you made a choice that allowed that cruelty to occur) – a burden made much heavier when the person who hurt you is your cult-indoctrinated mother, or your cult leader father, or the person in the mirror. The mighty nein take up this fight, and the complexities of their individual identities begin to heal in the light of a commitment in their relationship as friends and as a team to improve the world, even on the small scale. Bell’s hells remain gridlocked and stagnant and unwilling to change in an unspoken turf war of self-interest because they’ve insisted (influenced in part by the context of the campaign 3 narrative but, as others have aptly pointed out, that narrative was much more influenced by bh’s lack of curiosity regarding anything except their own minds) upon finding a solution to a problem they’ve decided is earth-shatteringly (quite literally, to the people of ruidus) unjust based on, aside from encounters where fellow mortals were the primary oppressors, their own testimony of the god’s not listening to them and the obvious villain’s parallel testimony. Something I’ve really been chewing on lately is caduceus words to fjord about his role as a paladin of the wildmother – that maybe it just means that someday, someone will pray for a miracle, and there fjord’ll be and the weight that has given that fjord’s bond to ukotoa came from his desperation not to die and his willingness to accept whatever help would be offered, that fjord could now be the person that reaches out to someone in need, and that the hand he offers won’t come with a curse.  And I think that’s really the poignant difference between bh and mn for me, that for bh, their experiences of injustice, though did make them personally bitter, did not make them morally misanthropic.

Comparatively, Bell’s Hells chose to ensure that, because the gods never answered their prayers, they shouldn’t be permitted to answer anyone else’s. Is this an understandable position? Sure, for the walls of a preschool, not really for a group of characters that I will ever be in any way inclined to view as something close to heroes. While it’s true that there are parts of life that are beyond our control – somethings happen to us that we have no say in, and they cause injuries both physical and mental that we are left to heal without any rhyme or reason, it is still our responsibility to heal them. And if you choose not to, well, then you’ve chosen not to, and are responsible for the consequences and judgements that choice might amount to.

Anyway, sorry this is all over the place but TLDR: calling bell’s hells as a party self-interested is actually just descriptively correct – they can save members of the party made up of their close friends and still be self-interested – and while the individual members of bell’s hells actually aren’t all that uniquely self-interested in the history of cr pcs, the party is uniquely self-interested in how they’ve chosen to navigate the world an their responsibility to the people in it.

[dilf-luvr-minis]

His adam’s apple grazed the cool blade as he swallowed, skin parting, a blob of blood growing out of it.

His eyelids dropped halfway like her knife isn’t on his throat. Heartbeat palpitating but not out of fear. The weight of her straddled atop him was dizzying.

Their breaths conjoined in a dance and despite the furious concentration in her eyes, her lips have never looked shinier than the way it did here, now — beckoning to him.

Perhaps seconds away from his death, he can’t help but think to himself, what a sight.

If he were to die removing that strand of hair covering her right cheek, he would willingly. If only it won’t anger her further.

“Don’t move,” she commanded through ragged breaths.

Jesus.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere sweetheart,” he carefully said; possibly his last words to her, carefully picked.

“Even if I could.”

Just felt right. Like his heart had always been hers to take.

[syluxs]

playing with fire

pairing: sylus/reader

words: 3948

summary: at a party full of shady business deals, you’re stuck being your father’s stand-in, just trying to get through it and minding your own business... then there’s sylus--the tall, confident, handsome guy you always look for (he’s the only reason you even tolerate these events). you’ve had a crush on him for ages, and despite your best efforts to try to keep things casual, sylus keeps pushing your buttons.

notes: reader is shorter than sylus, wears a dress

"your father couldn’t make it?"

you turned, already knowing who it was before your eyes even landed on him. sylus stood beside you, red eyes sharp as ever, a glass of wine held loosely between his fingers.

he was taller up close, his presence something you could feel-- an undeniable weight in the air.

"he's busy with something else," you replied smoothly, offering the same polite smile you always did at these events. "so i’m here in his place. again."

sylus hummed, tilting his head slightly. "i’ve noticed."

well, okay. you felt a lump form in ur throat for half a second before you covered it with a sip of champagne.

the party buzzed on around you--shady businessmen all over, deep in conversation, deals being spun between clinks of glasses and quiet laughs. but in this moment, it felt distant, like the noise had faded into the background. thanks to sylus.

you felt his gaze on you before you even looked.

cautiously, your eyes flicked up.

and there it was.

sylus was watching you--watching you in a way that sent something sharp through your chest.

not just looking. not just observing.

it was the kind of gaze that was deliberate. like he was studying you, or maybe something more than that.

your pulse stuttered.

"what are you looking at?" you asked, voice steadier than you felt.

sylus didn’t look away. "nothing."

liar.

you exhaled, turning back to your glass as if that would shield you from whatever this was. "don’t look at me like that," you muttered under your breath. "i’d catch feelings."

okay.

it was meant to be a joke, but the second the words left your mouth, you immediately regretted them. why do you never think before speaking?

because sylus just smiled--slow and amused.

he lifted his glass slightly, voice smooth as silk.

"would that be so bad?"

your fingers tightened slightly around your champagne flute. you weren’t sure if it was the drink warming your skin or the way sylus was still looking at you, like he had already figured out the answer before you even had time to think about it.

"depends," you said, trying to keep your voice even. "are you planning on making me?"

his smile deepened just slightly, it almost imperceptible, but you caught it. sylus was always like this--subtle and calculating, he never lets people see too much. but right now, standing this close, you could see something in his expression that most people never get the chance to.

"well, i don’t make people do anything," he murmured. "but i do enjoy watching them come to their own conclusions."

the air between you felt different now. around you, the party carried on, but it may as well have been on a different planet.

sylus took a step closer, just enough for you to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne and something electric beneath. his gaze flicked over your face, his red eyes taking their time, like he was committing every detail to memory.

"you’re so shameless, staring again," you pointed out, pretending to check the drink in your glass.

"and?"

"and you should stop."

"why?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

you exhaled, shaking your head. "because i really will catch feelings." it was meant to be a joke--again--one of those offhand, sarcastic things you say just to play with fire. but of course, sylus, being the flirty bastard he was, who never wants to lose in this game, latched onto it like you’d handed him a gift.

a low chuckle. "then i suppose you have a decision to make."

sylus lifted his glass again, a silent toast, before taking a slow sip. but even as he walked, just slightly away from you, acting as if the conversation was over, you knew it wasn’t.

not even close.

because even as you tried to focus on something--anything else, you could still feel his presence around you.

the warmth of him, the quiet but heavy weight of his attention. he wasn’t looking at you anymore, not directly, but you knew without a doubt that he was still aware of every move you made.

and then, just when you thought you might finally be able to collect yourself, he spoke behind you.

you barely had time to react before his voice was in your space again, smooth, deep, velverty and entirely too close.

"you know, if you’re already thinking about it," he said, "then you’ve probably already made your choice."

your breath hitched.

you turned around, he smiled at you, then sauntered away again, just like that. you think you caught the knowing glint in his crimson eyes. he was so effortlessly composed.

oh, how you thought that he's so full of himself--but then again, sylus is just that. simply confident, never boastful or arrogant. and sure, maybe you had stroked his ego a little, but honestly--he didn’t need it stroked. the man had every reason to be that confident. still, it was meant to be a joke, of course. just something to get under his skin. but with sylus, the flirty, smooth bastard, that kind of thing only ever seemed to make him worse.

you scrunched your nose and narrowed your eyes, forcing down the warmth threatening to creep up your neck.

two can play this game.

"you really love the sound of your own voice, huh?" you mused, tilting your head. "what would you do if i just ignored you completely?"

sylus smirked. "i’d wait. however long it takes. hopefully, not that long."

your mouth parted, caught somewhere between a scoff and a retort that never quite made it out.

every single time you saw him, without fail, it always ended in this--banter, flirting and teasing, a back-and-forth that neither of you ever truly won.

but even with all the "annoyance" he causes you, even with the way he always found a reason to smooth his way out, you couldn’t deny it.

you liked it.

you liked him.

which was exactly why this was dangerous.

"enjoy the rest of your evening," sylus said, like he hadn’t just sent your heart into a full sprint.

then, with a final glance, he stepped away, slipping back into the crowd with that same impossible grace he always carried.

you let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the way your pulse was still racing.

you should ignore him. you should brush this off like you always did after, convince yourself that this was just another round of your usual banter.

but as your eyes flickered back to him--his tall frame standing effortlessly among the crowd, his crimson gaze glancing back at you for just a second--you knew one thing for certain.

you were in so much trouble.

because even now, even with the thrill of your back-and-forth, you felt it-- the dizzying ache of feelings. and it scared you, a little too much.

because sylus wasn’t just some guy you could flirt with and forget. he was powerful, polished, terrifyingly smart. the most dangerous man in the room, always, wherever. but god, he was also handsome, a gentleman, rich, tall, smelled so good, strong in the way that made your knees weak, and, to make things worse, he loved animals. he wasn’t just out of your league--he was playing a completely different sport.

you weren’t even sure what you were doing here. you were just your father’s daughter attending the party in his stead. sure, your family had money and a bit of influence, but we are talking about sylus here.

he was on a different level entirely.

and you?

well, you were just you.

unthinkable didn’t even begin to cover it.

the party carried on around you, but your mind was elsewhere. no matter how much you tried to ignore it, sylus’ words still echoed in your head.

"then you’ve probably already made your choice."

the way he said it, it was driving you insane. like he already knew exactly how you felt, like he was waiting for you to admit it.

well. if he wanted to play this game, you were going to make it interesting.

your eyes flicked across the room, locking onto sylus with ease. he was speaking to a small group of people, nodding along as one of them droned on about something you were sure was very important. but even from a distance, you saw it--the way his posture never fully relaxed, the way his red eyes flickered your way the second he felt your gaze.

hook, line, and sinker.

you made your move, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease.

as you passed, you let your fingers lightly wrap around his wrist, without a word, you tugged him lightly, your grip firm enough to pull him away from the small group he was conversing with, but without asking for permission. he stiffened for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden actions. his crimson eyes flickered with surprise, his lips parted as if about to speak. but before he could protest, you were already walking toward one of the private lounge rooms tucked away from the chaos of the event, leading him behind you.

his hesitation lasted only a moment, and then, with a subtle but deliberate shift in his stance, he followed, the smoothness of his movements matching the calm composure he always carried. he didn’t resist, but instead of simply letting you lead him by the wrist, he reached and gently adjusted your grip--sliding your hand from his wrist into his own, hands molding together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your brain short-circuited for half a second. it wasn’t what you expected--not the warmth of his palm, not the deliberate intimacy of the gesture. it was soft. dangerously sweet. holy shittery.

but you shook it off. you were the one dragging him away, not the other way around.

your grip tightened slightly, reaffirming control, and you kept walking like your heart wasn’t suddenly throwing a tantrum in your chest. sylus followed in step, hand in yours, as if it had always been that way.

he may have made that smooth annoying move that made your stomach feel things, but you were still the one pulling the strings.

the moment you stepped into the quiet of the lounge, the door clicking softly behind you, you knew you had caught him off guard in a way that neither of you had expected.

you couldn’t help the slight smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

this was a game, and now, you were the one in control.

it was a risk. a bold one. but you had a feeling sylus wasn’t the type to leave things unfinished.

sure enough, it didn’t take long.

you let go of his hand, the door closed itself, clicked shut behind the two of you, and before you could turn, you felt him--his presence was filling the space again, his warmth pressing at your back like a phantom touch. is this some sort of phenomena eveyone feels? or is it just you?

you were breathing quite heavily, heart pounding so fast it felt like it might give out at any moment. you couldn’t tell if it was from the speed-walking or the nerves about what the heck was happening, or both.

of course, you tried not to show it, back still turned to sylus.

"bold move," sylus murmured. "should i be worried, suspicious, what?"

the corners of your lips lifted. finally a bit composed, you turned to face him and tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and shrugged.

"dunno."

honestly, you don't really know, like, for real. this was all impulsive, a reaction to the moment, and you were just doing and saying whatever came to your mind. there was no plan, no script--just the heat of the moment, pulling you along.

"how much self-control do you have?"

he looked at you, and for the first time tonight, you knew you had the upper hand with the way his eyes changed.

you took a step forward and let your gaze drag over him.

tall, refined, handsome, so impossibly composed-- damn.

sylus might have been a master at hiding his emotions, but he's not completely immune. well, actually, he may be immune. sigh. but still, you wanted to try, just to see. maybe he wasn’t immune to you.

"why aren't you answering?" you mused, "you're always in control. always watching."

sylus didn’t move, but his red eyes followed your every tiny motion, whether it was the way your eyes moved, how high the corners of your mouth were lifted, the way your hands were semi-closed-- "observation is an important skill."

"what exactly are you observing now?"

you took another step closer, your eyes dropping from his face to his body, your hand casually reaching for the lapel of his coat--just to feel the texture of the expensive fabric.

his jaw tightened, ever so slightly.

ooh..... got him.

"careful there." sylus said, voice smooth but quieter. "you’re playing quite the game there."

you couldn't help but smile, tilting your head up again to meet his gaze. "oh, sylus," you said, fingers ghosting over his chest before trailing up--light, teasing, just enough to make his breath hitch. "i am the game."

you were acting all confident, but in your mind, you know full well you’ll regret saying crazy stuff like this later. but still. it just comes out, like your mouth is writing checks your heart absolutely cannot cash.

for a second, neither of you moved. the air between you was thick, the tension was heavy. you felt like beads of sweat were going to form on your forehead any moment, despite the air-conditioned room.

then, deliberately--you grabbed the lapel of his coat again and pulled him down to be at your face level.

closer.

closer.

it was an awkward position bcs of the height difference, but who cares. he wasn't complaining, anyway.

your breath fanned against his skin, lips ghosting against his own, and you felt it--the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his gaze flicked between your eyes and your mouth, the way his control almost wavered.

and then--

you pulled away.

not far, just enough to leave a whisper of space, enough to make him feel the loss of warmth.

"hm." you tapped a finger against his chest with a teasing smile on your face. "maybe you’re the one with a decision to make.

his red eyes burned into you, it was impossible to read.

and for the first time all night, sylus was silent.

victory tasted sweet.

you took a step back, smoothing down your dress, dusting it off as if nothing had happened. "good talk," you said breezily, turning toward the door. "see you around, boss man."

you didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching you, still standing there, still processing the very obvious challenge you had just thrown at him.

but one thing was certain--this game was far from over.

the second you left that room, you left the party.

you told yourself it wasn’t because of sylus. you told yourself it wasn’t because your heart was still racing or because the feeling of his breath against your lips was burned into your mind.

but deep down, you knew better.

the moment you stepped into the night air, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

what the hell did you just do?

you had played with fire before, but this was sylus. and you--you--had just leaned in like you were going to kiss him, only to pull away at the last second. and the look in his eyes when you left..... oh, you were so done for.

so when your father got an invitation to another event just three days later, you weren’t exactly thrilled.

"i can’t make it, i have plans with your mother and your grandma." he had told you over breakfast, setting the invitation down beside your plate. "you’ll go in my place, won’t you?"

normally, you wouldn’t mind. these parties were nothing new. but after what had happened with sylus, showing your face again felt like walking straight into a trap.

"do you know if sylus is attending?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

your father shook his head. "no idea. but you told me some time ago that he rarely attends two events in the same week."

you nodded, the memory clicking into place. whether you were tagging along with your dad or showing up on your own, you always found yourself scanning the room for sylus the moment you walked in. you always looked for him first, after all. pathetic little crush of yours.

your father didn’t even question why you asked. he knew you and sylus got along every time you crossed paths, even if it usually involved a fair amount of bantering. still, your father had a quiet suspicion that sylus was fond of you, and he thinks that sylus maybe even sees you a little differently than most. still, he's not quite sure bcs it's sylus.

well, right. right, that made sense. sylus was busy. he had actual business to handle, not just party-hopping.

so you agreed. and you walked into that event thinking you were safe.

you weren’t.

because the moment you stepped into the ballroom, a very familiar presence made itself painfully known.

sylus was there.

and worse--he was looking straight at you.

heat crept up your neck before you could stop it. you immediately turned toward the bar, desperate to get away, to put some distance between you before you completely lost your composure.

but you didn’t even get the chance.

before you could order a drink, before you could breathe, sylus was there, stepping into your space with that same grace.

"you left in a hurry last time," he said, his voice as smooth as ever.

your grip tightened around the glass in your hand. "i was tired."

"oh?" he nodded.

you braced yourself, expecting him to tease you, to call you out, to make some infuriating remark about the way you had clearly run from him.

but instead--

"if you came here just to avoid me, you’re doing a terrible job."

you nearly choked. "i wasn’t--i mean, i didn’t think you’d be here."

you didn't mean to sound a bit pouty, like a little girl, but what the heck. the things this man managed to pull out of you.

sylus raised a brow. "and if you had known?"

you averted your gaze. "i would’ve stayed home."

his lips twitched slightly. "then it’s a good thing you didn’t."

you felt all sorts of movement in your stomach. you needed to say something before you completely lost your ability to function.

"look, about last time," you started, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, "i….. may have went too far. i was just messing around, but i probably shouldn’t have done that. that was unsolicited. so, uh--yeah. sorry."

sylus regarded you for a moment, his red eyes unreadable. then, he exhaled softly.

"no need to apologize."

you blinked. "really? well, okay then."

he stepped just slightly closer--enough to make you feel it, enough to remind you just how much taller he was.

"but if we’re being honest," he said, his voice smoothly invading your personal space, "i’d rather take the initiative."

your breath hitched. "what does that even mean--"

"it means," sylus interrupted smoothly, "that i’d rather be the one asking you out."

huh.

"well, okay?" you stared at him.

he let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose like your obliviousness physically pained him. the gesture was exaggerated, feigned annoyance barely hiding the amusement underneath.

"what? hold on. i mean, not to be slow...... but, you’re--are you actually asking me out right now?"

"yes."

no hesitation. no teasing.

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again.

"oh."

sylus’s lips quirked. "that’s all you have to say?"

"no. i mean--yes? i mean--” you sucked in a breath, willing your brain to function. "what the heck? are you serious?"

"i wouldn’t say it if i wasn’t."

he was so calm. so composed. meanwhile, you were seconds away from exploding.

"i just--" you ran a hand through your hair. "i didn’t think you actually--"

“like you? that i’d be interested?” sylus asked, watching you with quiet amusement.

your face burned. "i mean..... yeah?"

he exhaled.

"you really don’t pay enough attention, do you?"

your entire body locked up. tensed. you want to be relaxed, but all of your joints seemed like they were frozen, your internal organs feel like they have become solid.

okay, he did attend two events in the same week.....

before you could react, before you could even process what just happened, sylus straightened again.

"so?" he asked, tilting his head. "do i get a yes or a no?

your heart was hammering. this wasn’t how you expected the night to go. but standing here, looking at him, remembering every single time you had ever caught him staring at you--

you let out a slow breath. oh shit, maybe he does like you too.

however, you wanted to say no. just to spite him. to wipe that smug look off his face.

but god, you liked him. way more than you probably should.

well, whatever.

he could break your heart if he wanted to. he could ruin you. kill you, even. whatever happens, happens.

but instead of saying yes, you lifted your chin. "no."

sylus blinked. "no?"

you crossed your arms, heart still racing. "yeah, not like this. i want a proper confession."

for a moment, he just stared at you, and then something shifted in his gaze. slowly, his lips curved into a smile--one of those rare, genuine ones that didn’t come with a smirk or teasing.

"alright," he said, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, a little less sure. "i like you. i’ve liked you for a while. you get under my skin, and you drive me a bit insane, but i’d still rather be around you than anyone else.

you watched him, heart racing faster, trying not to show how much his words got to you.

"that proper enough?" he asked, as if he didn't felt an ounce of embarrassment from saying his feelings out loud. but, he needed to say it. to let you know exactly how much he liked you--because you were a bit of a dolt who didn’t want to read between the lines and needed things straightforwardly given to you.

and of course, sylus would willingly do that.

to your surprise, though, his smile faltered a bit. his ears turned a shade of red you’d never seen before, and a pink hue dusted his cheeks.

so sylus can feel a bit of shyness and embarrassment too.

you couldn't help but smile and giggle at the sight, covering your eyes with your hands to show him how amused you were as you let out a laugh.

"uh... yeah, well," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "there. happy now?"

you couldn’t hold it back anymore. you smiled, a soft, genuine smile. "yes."

sylus’s eyes widened for a split second, his smirk returned--this time a little shy, a little less confident--but it was still there, unmistakable.

"good." he said, his voice steady again, but with a hint of something playful.

and just like that, the game had changed completely.

[lostagoodcigar]

Brought to you by a tiktok where this guy was talking abt a girl he was seeing and how every time they had sex she’d give him a little treat afterwards (like a lil candy bar)

Like it starts when you jokingly toss Johnny one of the chocolates you had sitting on your nightstand after he ate you out like his life depended on it- he eats the candy immediately obviously as he laughs

Then you end up with a little candy dish on the nightstand, or in the drawer, any time you and Johnny have sex you give him a piece of candy, throw him a bone so to speak. Not on purpose but you think it’s cute- the way his face lights up when given the candy

You find yourself fucking somewhere in the house that isn’t the bedroom? Johnnys right behind you as you make your way to your shared room for his treat, not even realizing he’s doing it.

Whether you forget on purpose or on accident one day he just kinda stands in the kitchen like a kicked puppy and, “didn’t do somethin’ to upset ya did I hen?” His head tilted to the side slightly.

“What? No- what do you mean?” You are genuinely confused until he mumbles a “didn’t get my treat- ya know-“

You have to stop yourself from laughing as you ruffle his slightly overgrown mohawk before you’re off to the bedroom to toss him his little candy.

Honorable mention: I’d like to think Johnnys somehow ended up explaining this to the others, maybe just Ghost at first. And Ghost immediately understands it and is thankful his smile is covered by his balaclava- leave it to Johnny to get himself trained like a good dog

Basically what im trying to say is doing this to Soap would have him so down bad I think

[kettlefire]

High Speed Chase (DcxDp)

Johnny 13 didn't know what happened. One moment he was revving his bike through the Ghost Zone. Performing tricks between each slab of floating rock he drove through.

He had left Shadow with Kitty. His girl was having some kind of girls' night with a few other specters. Johnny was enjoying a bit of alone time, letting his mind wander and his body go on autopilot.

That was until he felt a strange force pulling him, trying to drag him and his bike in a different direction. Johnny tried to fight it, he really did.

With a flash of light, a vacuuming feeling, and moment of disorientation, Johnny was suddenly on a road. A real road. A solid road from the living world.

His wheels jostled and stuttered over the sudden texture change, and Johnny had quickly gotten his bike back under control.

It wasn't Amity. That was the first thought that crossed his mind as Johnny doubled down. His bike roared with life, and he made no move to stop. Not until Johnny knew what the hellw as going on.

In the first few moments, Johnny let his eyes wonder. Taking in the space around him. There was a strange machine that was quickly getting smaller behind him.

Something made of metal and wires, a ball of red energy suspended between a circle. There were cars around, and many of them seemed to have been abandoned.

Then there was the vehicles not so abandoned.

A large black car that seemed close to a modernized tank. Two bikes speeding down the street beside Johnny. He couldn't see through the window of the car, but Johnny could guess what would be in the driver seat.

Someone dressed up in a costume just like the two men on the bikes. The dipstick flashed through Johnny's mind, but he was too distracted to make any connections.

He had no clue where he was or why he was suddenly spit out into this world. He didn't know why he was being chased down by these three masked vigilantes.

So Johnny did the only thing he could think to do, he sped up. He slightly regretted leaving Shadow with Kitty, knowing just how much his friend could help right about now.

Johnny didn't know what these living people wanted with him, but he wasn't about to find out. Humans never wanted anything good from ghosts. The dipstick's friends were an exception. An exception that doesn't happen.

Johnny locked in, speeding up as he weaved through the streets. He wasn't going to get caught, he refused to let himself.

He needed to get back to the Zone. Back to Kitty and Shadow. He needed to tell the counsel about this. About the way he had been suddenly forced out of the Zone.

This could be dangerous, extremely dangerous. Amity Park was one thing, a town the ghosts were the safest to explore. Anywhere else was like a mine field, safety was an unlikely thing to find.

Especially if Phantom wasn't in this city.

It was a chase that Johnny hadn't felt since he was alive. Weaving in and out of traffic, phasing through obstacles, and even going invisible at some points.

Yet everywhere Johnny looked, one of them was hot on his tail. It was getting harder and harder for Johnny to keep his cool.

He didn't know these streets, these buildings, this traffic. How was Johnny supposed to lose these guys if he was in their home terrif?

Johnny didn't even have the chance to think over a solid escape plan when he found himself skidding straight into an 18-wheeler.

It happened too fast for him to even think of going intangible. One moment, he was speeding down an empty road. The next thing he was staring up at the night sky.

Out of all the things Johnny had expected, he didn't expect the sudden appearance of a man beside him. Concern radiating off the masked man as the vigilante searched him for any wounds.

[yuri-is-online]

May peepaw enjoyers be peepaw havers, whenever that banner drops, amen (ㅅ˘˘)

[robiinurheart33]

Ghost is starting to realise something.

It started off slow at first- pinpointing where soap was first in a room before the others, coincidentally spacing off in the same direction as soap, starting to follow soap wherever he went.

It’s nothing, really.

It’s nothing.

Nothing at all.

But it was really starting to bother him, the way Johnny started to get under his skin.

It pissed him off. Ghost always needs to be in his top condition during missions because one mistake could cost everything. How could he do that when before taking off soap would pat his shoulder and it felt like his ribs were caving in on him? How could anyone blame him when their thighs are pressed together, touching from ankle to shoulder and his heart would claw at his skin, begging to get out?

Or when soap would squeeze the nape of his neck as a friendly gesture and suddenly he was flushed and hot under the collar? Why was this happening to him? What is happening? Because all of a sudden Johnny’s summer, and he sinks into ghost’s bones and his skin, renders his muscles useless and his brain fuzzy and-

There’s something horribly wrong with him.

Johnny’s laughter makes his breathing pick up, it makes his fingers tremble and he wants to take that laughter and keep it in a locket to hang around his neck. Johnny makes ghost want to throw him against a wall and also cradle his face like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Johnny’s summer because he makes Ghost’s cold heart feel warmth again, makes him think of flip flops, missing teeth, shiny skin and a non stop itchiness. That’s what it is. It burrows under his skin, it makes his fingertips tingle and his heart ache and his ribs melt and his throat close up. This is soap’s fault. Ghost needs to kill soap.

That’s not quite right.

Because something in Ghost, in Simon wants to keep him away too, that terrorises his mind whenever he sees Johnny hurt. That he should steal him away and live in domestic paradise on the other side of the galaxy, because Simon knows better than to think that he can chase his past away that easily.

But then Ghost gets hurt, and it’s not that bad, really, he’s had worse. But now Soap’s tearing apart the place, face flushed and panicked. Panicked over Ghost. It might just be the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. So when he grabs Soap by the shoulders and orders him to calm the fuck down, his brain suddenly surges forward for things to say.

I love it when you get concerned for me.

I love it when you touch me.

I love it when you remember things about me

I love it that you let me double check your gear because I can’t lose you.

I love the stretch marks on your hips that I accidentally saw when you came out of the shower.

I love your fucked up accent.

I love the way you say “canny” it’s so dumb

I love your face

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

And it comes to a point where Ghost has to actively hold himself back because he accidentally held soap’s face in his hands and he cherished all 0.7 seconds of it before he violently ripped his hands away and walked off without a word.

It felt like all his ribs had broken in half and punctured his lungs and heart, and he was slowly bleeding out and suffocating. Johnny makes him feel like summer. Ghost starts to look forward to tomorrow, he starts to get excited at the new promise of physical touch, at the chance to casual love. He’s warm and gooey and Johnny’s melted his skeleton down and what’s left is Simon.

It was like nothing to Soap, and it drives Ghost crazy how it happened so fast. Johnny’s cradled Simon’s corpse in his warm hands and decided that he would love again, simple as that. And if he could do it like it was as simple as breathing, then maybe Ghost could love him the same way.

[seepingfrommyskin]

rip your heart out.

[comatosebunny09]

you're good at this—playing all coy and social as if you aren't a clump of nerves ready to burst.

like your legs aren't bouncing beneath the table, and you haven't knocked your knees against its underside a few times, almost spilling your wine.

like you haven't bitten your lips to hell, and your teeth aren't stained with the pretty rouge of your lipstick because of it.

no one's the wiser to your plight. to the quiet war waging in your head and the anxiety spilling like lava into your extremities.

you'll never get used to this things, no matter how many you attend—these parties, these galas, these socialites, this acting.

none of it is you.

not the form-fitting gowns, the kohl clumped to your lashes, the facsimile of a smile you've worn all evening until your cheeks ached.

but through the chaos, one thing remains a constant: him.

him and the hand he has clasped around your thigh to tether you. anchor you back to earth. all big and warm and reassuring, and he's angling himself a little closer until your nostrils fill with the scent of cured leather and peeled mandarin. and, fuck all, he’s warm even from this proximity. so hot, you feel the pressure of his body slowly seeping into your own.

his eyes gleam like the sunset in your peripheral. silently, they ask if you're alright beneath a slightly raised brow, above a customary smirk—a mask he dons during these gatherings if only to make the time fly by. not meant to tease you, he promises. he reserves something genuine for you.

he knows you're not alright, which is why he rubs all gently at the notch of your knee—an attempt to bring you back when you feel your mind slowly disconnecting from your body.

- at an event with sylus. you're clearly nervous. you always are. so the pair of you bid an irish goodbye, and he'll murder anyone who has the gall to stop you.

- watching him sneer at the partygoers blocking your exit is low-key a turn on.

- the night concludes with you both settled on your couch in your living room.

- and, of course, kissing ensues. because why wouldn't it?

- and he's a little handsy, so deft fingers creep up the expanse of your thigh because, of course, the slit of your dress would beckon such actions.

- and sure, yeah. you're into it as he gently pushes you back against the sofa. slots himself between your split legs as your fingers rake through the riot of his hair.

- and he hums all nice and low into your mouth, very much enjoying the sticky grind of your lips together.

- this is sylus. he's always gentle. always takes care of you, treating you like aged porcelain preserved in a museum.

- so why the fuck are you so nervous?

- you’ve made out a thousand times before.

- sex, however.

- well, fuck.

[7squidgy7]

✧.*Art dump*.✧

These 2 as kids. Narinder was born with a 3rd eye marked as a potential vessal of death as soon as he was born. It was only after he died himself that the crown chose him and revived him.

For a while he just terrorised the villiage he lived next to stealing food and just being a menace. When shamura investigated it they found a feral and traumatised child with a crown and took him home. Where he was predominantly raised by Kallamar.

Lambert lived mostly in ignorance unaware of the culling of their people until it came to their villiage.

Shittens and more art below:

lambert made Narinder a buch of warm clothing when he first joined. he gets very grumpy in the cold and after a few attempts for him to stay outside without the accessories they made him he finally gives up and wears them.

if you saw my post a while ago about cotl fairytails the top right drawings sort of a follow up.

Plus me playing around with Narilambs second child as of now unamed. All i know is shes sleepy and has messy wool.

Plus other random assortment of art:

[sparxyv]

WIP tag game!

thank you @myokk , @syaolaurant and @simpforblindguy for tagging me! i have so many WIPs anyways so this is perfect for me LOL

starting out strong with amit 🙏🙏

this one has been in the works for SO long hahah.. i'm finally working on it

SUPER rough draft right here but i thought it'd be funny to show how messy the sketches i start with are 💀!

no pressure tags (so sorry if anyone i tag has already done this 😅): @dom1re @choccy-milky @the-ozzie @trappezoider @4ever2000lover @keri-mcberry @dwightschrute11 @iatnen

[saaraofthesand]

Okay, the scene where Mami kills Kyouko is actually my single favorite scene in PMMM. I think about it all the time. I love it so much. Which sounds horrible, I know? But I think I love it because of its honest look at the characters in a desperate situation. And how in-character it is for all of them. It’s such a fantastic bit of storytelling from the writers.

Like Mami would absolutely be the first one of them to snap like that. She’s such an emotionally unstable character. Mami, more than any of them, wants to stop witches and save people because that’s how she makes peace with her lifestyle. So, learning that they’ll all turn into witches… of course she’s going to try and eliminate that possibility before it happens, even if it means killing her friends.

But even more so than Mami’s characterization in this scene, I love Madoka’s. I think it would be easy to assume that Homura would be the one to stop Mami, because Homura is seen as the colder character. So, I love that it’s Madoka. Madoka makes the quickest call she can in that moment to save Homura. Maybe they could’ve talked Mami down, and at that point, that would’ve been what Homura tried first. But Madoka couldn’t risk it and needed to react right away.

It shows us that in the main timeline, Homura is giving Madoka the time and space to make her decisions carefully/fully stop her because she knows that Madoka is impulsive when it come to her friends.

Basically it shows their characterization as this: Mami will always try and make the call that she believes will save the most people, Madoka will always try and make the call that saves her friends, and Homura will always try and make the call that saves Madoka. And that’s because for each of them, those are their salvations from the cruelty of being a magic girl.

[shorthaltsjester]

fuuuuck your point about fjorjester fans who constantly compare them to Travis+Laura is something I’ve been trying to articulate why it bothers me for ages. Like yes, they are a very sweet couple and I love the behind-the-scenes shenanigans and discussions around the gradual development, but that’s pretty much confetti to Fjord and Jester themselves

sorry for the delay in responding to this, anon! i frequently forget that this inbox exists and this apps inconsistency w/ actually giving me notifications means it’s an uphill battle but ANYWAY. yeah no it’s truly like, it’s a similar phenomenon to some of the defences of cr3 where the parasocial aspects of cr fandom leads people to make claims about how it’s just a group of friends around a table — or in this case, just a married couple falling in love again. both of which completely dismiss the actual skills, talent, and effort which denote the successes of cr’s storytelling. because obviously the real people inform the characters in a unique way in actual play — i always think of brennan’s metaphor that characters in ttrpgs are like a kind of stained glass over the real person, a completely different and separate entity but an entity nonetheless made compelling and beautiful by the thing behind it — but to say that the success of fjord and jester comes down to the pre-existing relationship that exists between travis and laura, even when used as some kind of compliment or reason to enjoy the relationship rather than the dismissal it is often used as by fjorester dislikers, that (in addition to just, not being plausible) completely undersells how much character work both of them do to create characters who fall for each other in ways that Mean Something for the development of their characters — for example, the fact that jester spends the early campaign hard crushing on fjord but then doesn’t actually realize she capital L loves him until they’re in a relationship and she realizes that rather than the romance novel, huge sweeping romantic gestures (though fjord also gives her those) she’s learned growing up, love is being completely comfortable with the person she’s with is an excellent expression of jester’s ongoing character development with lessening her naivety while maintaining her love and whimsy. similarly, the fact that it’s two sets of Is It Too Late?s that prompt fjord into beginning to realize his feelings and then act on them; where as travis has mentioned at panels & in no longer available talks machina’s (whose number i could find for citations sake it so needed) fjord realized he might be losing something he hadn’t realized was really there during the jellyfish convo & that he was prompted to finally confess to jester and ask to kiss her because her life was at risk and that after vandran, fjord wasn’t about to let another person leave him without ensuring he told them what they mean to him, that’s all extremely important for fjords development as someone who cares for and takes notice of those around him in his role as the groups leader/diplomat/protector as well as his development towards being able to actually go and seek vandran out instead of just accepting that it might simply be the case that he’ll never get to tell him what he meant to him. none of the power of those character choices comes from the fact that laura and travis are actually married. and it’s consistently infuriating to see what is genuinely one of my favourite narrative love stories be reduced to a relationship that, aside from providing context for a crush that is also narratively grounded from the start of the campaign and (as both travis and laura have mentioned) provided travis with a lower barrier to entry re: romance in dnd, really has very little to do with the story that unfolds

anyway sorry for the word vomit op. it is early in the morning & im procrastinating grading at any and all cost. but yeah tldr: real fucking stupid to look at a story as good as fjord & jesters, as characters who develop in such a way that begets an extremely compelling relationship, and think that saying it’s bc of the real marriage of their creators is in any way a compliment.

[rinsfujo]

ok i dont like 431 as much as the next guy but Also it’s kind of interesting to explore other reasons as to why izuku suddenly turns down katsuki’s offer….

especially when it comes to the trauma aspect of it all, imagine almost dying and pushing yourself to the absolute limit to end a war at age 16 and then spending the next however many fucking years knowing that your quirk is fading and that means your dream is too— and spending so long trying to figure out if something else (like teaching) can actually satiate you.

but then the second you’re actually presented with the opportunity to become a hero again you FREEZE. and you don’t know why you freeze because being a hero is what you’ve always wanted,,,, right??? and your friends worked so hard to make this dream a reality for you, KATSUKI worked so hard to make this a reality,,, and now that it’s right in Front of you— you feel scared and you keep having nightmares about their faces again, a scared little boy visits you in your dreams, the same one you saw on the battlefield ,,, and so does the image of your best friends bloody lifeless eyes And now you’re not so sure if you ever healed from Anything in the first place and maybe losing your quirk was the only outcome that ever mattered . or somerhing like that. . i dont know

[etirabys]

three posts exiled to drafts in a row, that means it's time to log off