stellafortunalogs | (403): Feel free to drag me back to reality at your convenience. (closed catchall)

(403): Feel free to drag me back to reality at your convenience. (closed catchall)

who: sylvain & various friends
when: whenever
where: wherever
what: catchall for commissions and everything else
warnings: it's sylvain... will add as they come up!

PM me or hmu on plurk at

wooloos if you'd like me to set up something or plot!

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[sure, they have apartments of their own—but they may as well be sharing one, for as much time as they spend together. they come and go as they please; they slip into one another's space while thinking little of it, because that's best friendship, baybee—and thus felix slips into sylvain's space now? without even bothering to knock, because really, this world is preternaturally calm; it's not like he's bound to interrupt anything important...

...except that he does. kind of. oh, sure, sylvain is stretched out on the couch as opposed to doing anything felix would consider productive, but as felix quietly closes the door, felix silently watches him all the same? notes the thoughtful expression on his face as he holds his vision above him, letting it catch the light streaming through the open window. hmm. a sylvain lost in his own thoughts is a dangerous sylvain, indeed—and so it's only natural for felix to close the distance between them, just to unceremoniously pluck that vision from sylvain's fingers. good afternoon, loser. if you were thinking anything even remotely sad, that time has passed, because hey—]

Instead of staring at it, you should be learning to use it.

[just a suggestion! one his tone suggests is not that serious, especially as he holds the vision up to the light himself. it's so different from, yet so similar to, the one hanging from his belt... hmm...]

[ it’s like being back at the monastery again. they’ve always had their own rooms but felix and sylvain had always been inseparable—he can’t count all the times they’ve barged into each other’s rooms or stayed the night, but the point is, it’s just natural? the privelege of being best friends. which is why when sylvain hears the door opening he doesn’t even bother to look up, he already knows it’s felix, despite being as lost in thought as he is.

it’s not the first time felix has caught him like this either, and for once, he isn’t particularly brooding. thoughtful, yes, which isn’t always a good sign, but he’s been to the library and there’s a stack of books already accumulating next to the couch; sylvain has looked into the history of this world and their visions, and the significance and meaning of his own is not lost on him. freedom, a gentler future—things that he’d always wanted for himself and everyone else around him, things that he had fought for the past five years. all of that, condensed into one little orb. ]

If you must know, I was practicing with it earlier. [ he sighs, lips tugging up into a lazy grin as he slides his arm behind his head and lounges against the couch. the perfect picture of a lazy sunday evening. ] Wind magic wasn’t exactly my forte.

[ funny how that works. but while felix examines his vision, sylvain reaches up to pluck felix’s from his belt, letting it roll along his palm and fingers. ]

What about you? I remember you were handy with Thoron, but ice is a different beast entirely.

[what kind of loser arrives in a new world and immediately looks for the library? a smart loser, that's who. damn. so maybe sylvain was being more productive than felix gave him credit for; felix still stands by his statement, eyes narrowing the slightest bit as he takes in the symbol displayed on sylvain's vision. would this be easier to master with, say, annette's tutelage? would his own vision be easier to master if he'd thought to learn the magic favored by his fa—

—hmm. the light tug at his belt is a welcome distraction, and despite the question sylvain soon poses, some part of felix wonders if that's on purpose. after all, sylvain knows felix better than anyone; sometimes it seems as though sylvain can see right through him, which should be disconcerting—but it isn't. not really. there is, in fact, something strangely comforting about it, though felix is loath to admit it? especially now, as he offers up a simple shrug before shifting his attention back down to sylvain.]

It's a tool, like any other. It will take time to master—not to mention diligence, [he adds, pointedly?? and then throws in a pointed pause, just for good measure.] But I will.

[his tone is not so much cocky as it is confident? he doesn't trust this... vision, but if it will give him an advantage in this world, he'll do what needs to be done. anyway, as he makes a slow swipe for the vision in sylvain's hand, seeking to test sylvain's reflexes more than anything else:]

Did you make any progress?

[felix can freeze one (1) glass of water. he's so cool (haha).]

[ listen, this is how they operate? felix goes out and challenges people to fights and throws turnips at bards, and sylvain woos chickens while attempting to read the entire mondstadt library. it's just how they work and it's been fine so far, so there's no reason to change it even if felix doesn't necessarily approve of his methods. they compliment each other at the end of the day, and perhaps that's why they've been granted the visions they have. anemo amplifies the vision its paired with, extends its reach—just as he's always done on and off the battlefield. ]

I know. [ sylvain's smile softens as he lowers felix's vision, lets it settle against his sternum. it's an answer he expected, because even though it may have been easier if felix had followed down his father's path, it doesn't matter. felix always finds a way to cut through, doesn't he? dryly, ] If it's anything that you can use in battle, you'll figure it out.

[ one track mind, etc. anyway, he hasn't made as much progress with his own vision as he would like, if only because wind magic requires much more precision than fire magic does? one little mistake could turn a small gust of wind into a cutting gale, and it's something he's learned the hard way. but he does lift his free hand, flickers his fingers a little in the air—just enough to create a concentrated breeze to play with felix's ponytail like he's done countless times before, a gentle gust brushing along the back of his neck in a familiar caress. ]

Edited (i had to make it gayer) 2021-01-27 12:08 (UTC)

[yes, he will figure it out. he has to, so determined is he to be a cut above the rest, to be prepared for anything and everything—and yet he is wholly unprepared for this sylvain-summoned wind? it sends him straightening, instinctively lifting a hand to the back of his collar in an attempt to, like, hold it in place...

...but that bit of a breeze is only akin to the lightest of touches? one that is, stupidly enough, strangely intimate, and thus felix can't help but to scowl. weakly. it's the sort of thing sylvain is always doing to him—the sort of thing only sylvain can do to him—but this sort of teasing gets him every time. he isn't sure why.

(except that maybe, just maybe, he is.)]

Am I supposed to be impressed?

[he could be? like, mildly. felix knows enough about magic to know that little display required some serious control—but that doesn't stop him from swiftly reaching out to catch sylvain's hand before it falls back to his chest. neither of them are wearing gloves, for once; the feeling of callused skin against callused skin is... distracting, for some reason, and yet felix retains enough of himself to summon a chill to his fingertips. nothing dangerous; nothing to actually freeze, but his fingers are cold enough against sylvain's to hint that they could be even colder. see! he's been practicing, too.]

[ it's another response he expected, if only because felix doesn't fall for his antics like other people usually do. but that's why he likes doing it? getting a reaction out of felix has always been a hobby of his, even if it's just various kinds of scowls, really, but there's a difference to them also. like the one felix is giving him now—there's a softness beneath it, one that makes something in his own chest go a little soft as a result, gentling his smile as felix grips his hand. ]

Well, I am. [ it's nothing dangerous—they've both endured much colder temperatures in their lifetime. but he's reminded of their days at the academy, nights spent staying up late as he and annette both helped felix with his magic. with practice, felix could no doubt do more than just give his fingers a pleasant chill; he's always been determined that way. ] Did you want me to impress you?

[ anyway, he's back on his bullshit, and he uses felix's hold on his hand to tug him closer, until his legs hit the edge of the couch and sylvain and pull him down on top of him. ]

[no is, of course, his knee-jerk response. no, he doesn't care if sylvain attempts to impress him; no, he doesn't care if he impresses sylvain—except that he does, on some level, which is why he presses his lips together in lieu of an actual response. he's always enjoyed the recognition that comes with doing something well—and there is a certain degree of satisfaction to be derived from seeing others do the same? which is doubled—if not tripled—when it comes to sylvain, for whatever reason. competency is so...

...well, you know. it's nice! that's it; that is all, because felix is certainly not giving any thought as to why the idea of sylvain specifically seeking (wanting?) his attention is so very enticing.

so really, sylvain tugging him forward is a blessing in disguise? like, how can felix think of anything when he's falling forward, sylvain's vision in one hand and sylvain's fingers wrapped about the wrist of the other? he cannot... but he can manage a sharp:]

Sylvain—

[so, like, pro: sylvain is surprisingly comfortable to land upon. con: sylvain is surprisingly comfortable to land upon. it's just... unfair? something felix('s bony self, sorry) is wholly unprepared for, hence the few seconds of shocked silence that follow. the heat all but radiating from sylvain, whose face is so very close to his own—he shouldn't like this! he should not! and yet some part of him does, which is why he feels color creep into his cheeks as he struggles to prop himself up.]

What are you playing at? I'm not staying like—like this.

[but here he is, anyway, only bracing his forearms atop sylvain's chest as opposed to going for a full-fledged fight. hmm! mysterious! don't @ him!]

[ the thing is, sylvain has never liked impressing people. he's always hated showing off and meeting people's expectations—it was always easier to just do whatever he wanted without caring about things like recognition and being acknowledged, because in the end it's never enough. it takes the joy out of it, reduces it to nothing more than a burden for him to carry until he crumbles under the collective weight. but felix has never expected anything from him, not like the way his family and everyone else does. ]

What, am I not comfortable enough for you?

[ felix is so bony, all hard angles and muscle, but sylvain is used to it as well as the sharp elbows digging into his chest. he wraps his arms around felix's torso, linking his hands at the small of his back and getting comfy, closing his eyes as he settles in. felix may not want to stay like this, but sylvain isn't giving him a choice; even if he could break out of this hold if he really wanted to. ]

Stay for a little bit. You can handle that, right?

[he absolutely could break free; he absolutely should break free, and yet—mmph. it would be a far easier decision, perhaps, if sylvain didn't close his eyes? because suddenly sylvain isn't just comfortable; sylvain looks comfortable, as well, and here's the thing: felix can't remember the last time he saw sylvain at ease. oh, sure, he saw sylvain fake it during the war, but they were all on edge. even lounging by the fire in the middle of nowhere, tired after a long day's march—that wasn't relaxation so much as it was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

now, however, sylvain seems... content? more or less? and for the life of him, felix can't understand why he feels the same. it's the welcome weight of those hands on his lower back; it's the rise and fall of the chest beneath him; it's the fact that this is, stupidly, the most comfortable felix has been in quite some time.]

That's not—

[—the issue, he almost says, but. pfft. a beat? followed by a quiet huff as he shifts about once more, just to press the (cold) stone of this anemo vision against its owner's cheek.]

Not everyone enjoys wasting time. I have things to see to. [which is a weak argument at the best of times, he knows, so let him just reach for something else:] And you're obviously going to fall asleep.

[ there was no time to get comfortable during the war, not even after reuniting with everyone after byleth came back. sometimes he thinks he’d taken his days at the academy for granted, when they seemed to stretch on forever and he could continue to pretend like he’d nothing to worry about. and he did have less things to concern himself with, back then—away from home and free from miklan, up until that fateful day at the tower. but it all feels like a lifetime ago; now here he is, on a different world entirely with no known way of returning home. and yet, as felix settles himself on top of him, this part at least feels… natural and right. comfortable. ]

Come on. You’re spending time with me, your best friend. [ his words are a little muffled by the vision pressed against his cheek, though he makes no move to pull away. ] How’s that wasteful?

[ so cold, so harsh. but that doesn’t stop him from opening his eyes to look up at felix through the sweep of his lashes, playfully lowering his voice. ]

I can think of a few ways you could keep me up with.

[i can think of a few ways you could keep me up with, sylvain says, as easily as anything, and felix feels his traitorous heart all flip in his chest. it's not that sylvain... well, of course he's felix's best friend? of course he is. felix has been following him for as long as he can remember, clutching his hand while watching others race ahead—and that isn't the issue. it isn't. it should be, perhaps, but some part of felix has always been content, so long as sylvain remains by his side, and that is...

...well. sylvain pretending to flirt shouldn't send felix's chest tightening—but it does? it does. sylvain is undeniably handsome; his lowered lashes only enhance his looks, though felix is quick to look off to the side, the cheeks of his face feeling almost unreasonably warm.]

You're disgusting.

[truly!! and yet here lies felix, scowling even while slowly pulling that vision away from sylvain's cheek.]

Go to sleep, idiot. I'll leave when you do.

[will he, though? will he risk sylvain swimming back to consciousness? hmm.]

[ the scandalous expression on sylvain's face is definitely exaggerated, eyes wide with mock offense despite the grin that's still present. with felix pressed against him as he is, it'd be hard to miss the flush on felix's cheeks; all these years and he's still so easy to rile up. cute. ]

Excuse you, I was going to ask you which commissions you've done so far, but I see you've got other things on your mind.

[ he slides his hands lower, resting them on felix's hips as he winks up at him. ]

Are you going to take advantage of me while I'm asleep? How naughty.

[commissions. you know, that's—it's plausible? doubtful, given who and how sylvain is, but plausible all the same; like, felix feels somewhat foolish as he squints down at sylvain, doing his best to gauge whether sylvain is telling the truth or spouting a convenient lie. people always did make these sorts of snap judgments about sylvain, back in their academy days... maybe he was too hasty...

...yeah, right. sylvain is sylvain—and although felix literally just pulled his hand from sylvain's face, he swiftly brings it right back, once again pushing the cold stone of sylvain's vision against his cheek while attempting to shove him down into the cushion. don't wink at him like that, holy shit—]

I'm going to freeze you in place, and I won't wait for you to fall asleep first. Stop being annoying.

[stop being like... that! like that, because felix could, hypothetically, leave at any time; the only reason he's still here is because, uh? hmm. certainly not because sylvain's hands sit so perfectly on his hips. have they always?]

[ wow, at least half of it was true! but unfortunately (or fortunately), felix knows him too well, and so sylvain takes the renewed assault—both to his cheek (again!) and bearing the weight of felix trying to single-handedly bury him in this couch. this is how he goes out, smothered by the love of his life. what a way to go, tbh. ]

I'm not doing anything!

[ except he is, sort of... it's not intentional. it's not his fault felix is so easy to rile up, and while he's protesting as felix complains, neither of them are actually moving away from this couch or each other. hm! in any case, sylvain pulls his face away from the vision felix is rudely shoving into his cheek and brings his face closer to felix's instead until he rests their foreheads against each other. ]

Why's your first instinct to hurt me whenever you feel embarrassed, huh? It's just you and me, Fe, come on.

[felix's first instinct, as sylvain's forehead bumps against his, is to insist that he is not embarrassed? because of course he isn't. it will take far more than sylvain's... sylvain-ness to embarrass felix—except that, um, isn't exactly true, because sylvain's sylvain-ness is all that it takes to embarrass felix. as for why, well...

...well. even as felix scowls, determinedly maintaining eye contact while refusing to be the first to pull away, felix knows that sylvain has always been a weak spot, of sorts. his weak spot, and it has as much to do with the soft shade of sylvain's eyes as it does the feeling of sylvain's fingers digging into his hips. sylvain is simply comfortable? there is, as ever, the urge to fall forward; felix thinks that he could lose himself in sylvain and feel strangely content, but as he's stubborn, so stubborn—]

I'm not embarrassed, [he mutters, very much embarrassed—but doing his best to conceal it.] You're just—

[and what is sylvain, honestly? so much. too much, if you ask felix—and thus felix huffs, hand falling from sylvain's cheek to the side of sylvain's neck. sylvain knows how he is; sylvain surely knows how he affects felix, so felix sees no reason to stroke his ego.]

...When have I hurt you?

[like, really. really really.]

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(403): Feel free to drag me back to reality at your convenience. (closed catchall)

we take it and make it gay: the thread

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sylVAIN count in this game: already at 2

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