#halberd books

[halberdbooks]

"Autumn is Here — but Like a Ghost (October 4th)" by David M. Briggs

performed live by the author for Fae Propaganda III: The Autumn Court in Springfield, Illinois

[torgawl]

i was playing luocha's quest "guide for a knight stranger" when i spotted a genshin character. this is like finding beyoncé in a supermarket. what is chang the ninth doing here? i think it's pretty cool that he's a detective romance novel character in this universe instead of a writer, it's like the world is inverted. and he's the killer's uncle, nonetheless. too bad we don't know (as far as i'm aware of) if genshin's chang the ninth has nephews, but with at least 8 siblings it's very likely.

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[juudaime86]

06012024 Commission for KyzieTheWolf

A commission for Naveer Makyuri NaveerMakyuri, gift for KyzieTheWolf KyzieTheWolf. Characters belong to their respective owners. Kyzie © KyzieTheWolf Naveer © Naveer Makyuri Please do not repost without permission. Not authorized for use in AI.

[julicity]

SEBEK ZIGVOLT - OVERBLOT -

full size version

Please see the full sized version linked above! Since it’s been compressed pretty badly here...

And here’s a version without the unnecessary lightning background, and a face close-up without the glow effects.

ALRIGHT, so this is one of the biggest pieces I’ve done in a long while. I put a lot of work into this so I hope you all enjoy~

I’ve got a lot to say about this one, so read at your own leisure lol.

I think it’s worth leaving notes on my design choices for this one, so I’ll start with that.

First of all, Sebek's character is based off of lightning/thunder (obviously) and also Maleficent's crocodile minion, the latter which I incorporated more parts of (like the halberd and the pointed coattails like his croc tail). Also his phantom would be based on the croc minion character.

I originally wanted to give him more actual crocodile features, like a tail or scales or something, but it wasn't really working out the way I wanted, so I scrapped it.

Most OB’s have long, ripped clothing so I gave him more of a cloak akin to Maleficent’s, the shape of the collar specifically being the same as hers.

I added some spikes on the coat like crocodiles have down their back and tail.

I really like the leg pieces that Riddle & Leona had for their OB’s, and the weaving pattern also happens to make a zigzag lightning shape, so it fits.

I also like the OB designs that have super drippy blot on their arms.

Some things are just copied from his dorm uniform, like the waistband and belts, and the shoulder armour (not the spools of thread though...).

The left shoulder armour doesn't exist in the normal dorm uniform. OB Sebek has one made of blot because Sebek's biggest insecurity is that he's incomplete and will never be good enough due to being half-blood and he wants to be whole T^T

Lightning-shaped blot markings on his face of course. Mostly I just tried to make something that didn't look ugly... 

Lastly, I wanted to make his hair messier, but it would end up covering his beautiful face so I let it remain swept back - 3- (aka I couldn’t make it look nice).

So in terms of why Sebek might OB... he clearly has an intense, unresolved internal hatred for his human blood, due to the environment he grew up in. And the way he copes with these emotions is by taking it out on the people around him. It just seems like with the intensity of these feelings, if he were to keep it internalized, it would completely destroy him from the inside. And he just has NOT had the chance or know-how to learn to accept himself and therefore others. So of course, this is something he needs to work on but he definitely cannot do it alone. I think something traumatic does need to happen for him to realize and learn from his ways honestly. In terms of the canon, this will probably be due to Malleus' overblot or whatever shenanigans will happen in Book 7.... but Sebek himself overblotting would do just as well.

I think this fic does a really good job with building up Sebek's OB and his mindset throughout it all getting worse and worse... --> READ HERE It’s still in progress at the moment of posting but the after-blot plot is really wholesome too for us Sebek fans. EVEN IF you are not one you should still give it a read. (Just for full disclosure, my OB design is not based on the one described in this fic.)

Thank you for reading my rambles. I’ve got more angst coming ;>

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Stung knight go on their first date as throuple which is book store, dinner and then to the club for a night of dancing. The three of them are still getting used to actually being in a relationship with each other. Doing their best to show that they love the other two more than they could ever imagine. Shenanigans insues

Blake: *Almost struggling to carry her Books* You Getting Anything guys?

Yang: Just some Baking recipes, and a new Sci-Fi novel.

Jaune: *looking at something* I- I'm good.

Blake: *Shifting uncomfortably* Whatcha Looking At?

Jaune: Just- It's nothing. Some Graphic novels, which are just glorified comic books. I don't need it.

Yang: *Grabbing some of Blake's books* ... Nah. We're getting them.

Jaune: Well, you're hands are already full and I don't want to-

Blake: Jaune, just get them if you want them. I appreciate you trying to be mindful, but we're here to have fun. We don't mind.

Jaune: ... *picking up the books* Thanks guys!

~~~~~

Blake: *Licking lips* FishFishFishFishFishFish!

Yang: Damn! This place smells like a real smoke house! God, I could live in that hickory and cherry! *Sniff* Oooh Is that Applewood?

Jaune: Yeah, This place is a "gourmet" barbecue and grill place! It's family owned and works with local farmers and butchers to ensure the highest quality meat - and they're the biggest buyers of my family's ciders, wines, and juices.

Yang: What are you, some kind of fruit Baron?

Jaune: We've got a lot of land - most money goes to the people that work it. My mom's a very hands-on boss, especially when it comes to protecting the workers.

Blake: Less talk more filling our mouths with Smoked Salmon~

Jaune: They also have Fish and Chips, fish tacos, tuna melts- just about everything.

Yang: We don't know a lot about your family come to think of it. All we know is that your dad gave you bad dating advice, and that you've got seven sisters.

Blake: And that they used to put him in dresses.

Yang: And that they-

Jaune: Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah, Uh, My mom and dad were both Hunters! My mom used the sword as a backup with a poleaxe - a halberd as a primary weapon ...

~~~~~

Blake: *Bouncing to music*

Jaune: *Dancing like an Idiot*

Yang: *too enamoured by them to dance along with them*

[limbus-limousine]

Okay so I'm talking real crazy because my hyperfixation is going strong but like.thinking abt.Demisin as Moon/Tide symbolism, which is appliable to any iteration of them, but my favorite ever is NClair mirror world. And just obssesed with that AU in specific so.

Rambling abt them under cut>>

I keep getting the notion that Demian has the potential to be REALLY fucked up, and he expresses that through the book, like nonchalantly suggesting murder, for starters. Let's say, Sinclair is the moon, Demian is the tide. Demian bends to his behavior as he seeks to guide him accordingly, and Sinclair is of considerably tame morals.

Now, enter NClair. I reckon a day would come when Demian is done watching his raptor getting fed trash by Kromer. And so he shall reclaim him, but Sinclair has been subject to a lot of change in this period. Not only would he resent the abandonment on Demian's part, but he had also been taught that violence would get him gratitude. Although not worthy enough of a substitution for the affection of his family, it was all he had.

Demian surely would match this approach, as tide to the moon, and even if it's within his power to end a life, he'd allow a handful of blows from the halberd to land in. He'd let them hurt, and then deliver his own in exchange.

Even so I don't think Sinclair would be consumed only by hate, as Demian himself triggers many things. Surely he'd be slightly relieved to see him again. But he'd still attack nonetheless —it's everything he was taught how to do— and the motivation stronger than ever. There'd be a certain charm to Demian being affected in one way or another. Something as simple as his breaths growing shorter by a fraction of a second, something one couldn't notice unless they eagerly seeked such signs. But that would still be a steady reasurance.

As long as Demian remains disheveled he shall not leave. He shall not vanish without his eerie mystique back in place. And Sinclair would eat him alive if that meant he'd stay for a little while longer.

OK THST ALL I HAVE TO SAY.

Also you get a version with added in lyrics because i was in a music induced craze while drawing this. Song is DEVIL NOBODY by stomach book & zombAe

[liketwoswansinbalance]

What if Evil Rhian and Evil Rafal interacted? Give me a good show, boys. 🍿

Note:

Expect violence and all-around ugliness.

Also, thanks for the prompt. This was a fun one!

⸻

Rafal: The one thing I can agree with Vulcan on is that we should've kept the name: The School for Evil and Good.

Rhian: What.

Rafal: You heard me. Clear as a death knell. Vulcan should've killed you while he had the chance. Instead I'm bedeviled by you, a foul nuisance spawned from "Vulcan's stithy."

[To clarify: In his Shakespearean insult, Rafal is now referencing the mythological, Roman god Vulcan, not Vulcan of Netherwood.]

Rhian: Well, you're a raging egomaniac, for someone who thinks himself the finest puppetmaster in the Woods despite being inadequate when set next to me.

Rafal: As if you're not one. And such language from the so-called Ever. Dean 'Headache' would blush.

Rhian: All right, let's say I descend to your wretched level, if only to vanquish you: you left me in the Doom Room, to rot!

Rafal: If you weren't a traitorous snake, I wouldn't have left you. Besides, you went behind my back to the Kingdom Council to frame me! To launch a war campaign against me without a jot of forewarning. I should have done worse while you were still vulnerable, hanging there, numb.

Rhian: And yet, I overheard you say to Midas that your aim was to take over all the Woods? What say you to that, devil brother? If I win and take over, I'll string you up by your vocal chords.

Rafal: [derisively] That's anatomically impossible. You're new at this, aren't you?

[Rhian lunges for Rafal, and they get into an all-out duel to the death, executing remarkable feats of arms, considering the pitiful weapons they're armed with.]

⸻

[During an intermission afterwards:]

[They are black and blue, battered and bruised all over, sustaining minor cuts, each gasping for his breath, and they are seated on chairs, beside one another.]

Rafal: I should've brought my poleaxe, or even a halberd, so I could fracture your skull properly. Strike out the brains and dash them on the floor. [shakes his head.] Would've been great fun to ram a longsword through your ribcage, too, had I brought it along. [He twists his letter opener around idly.] This meager, little thing isn't suited for thrusting; it barely did any damage.

Rhian: [nursing a long, open slice on his forearm] I think you did enough with that letter opener. [He sheathes his dagger.] Though, someone should've died, even if you failed to shear me in two. What gives. What's the matter with us?

Rafal: [glances over at the Storian] Looks like someone or some thing wants us alive to provide the entertainment. I'm not opposed to trying again though. Why don't we? I'd love to rip out your heart. It's not as if it's getting regular use anyway.

Rhian: And I wish to wreak the same harm upon you, with your tongue besides. I hate hearing that grating voice. So monotonous. You could be a punishment for others in Hell where you belong. Your lectures are torture enough.

Rafal: Well, you won't have to hear me much longer. Not that you ever listen. Your dismembered ears will make excellent trophies of war. I could have them plated with gold—gold on the outside, rot on the inside, just like your tainted soul. [He smiles to himself, satisfied, and then, fishes through his jacket pocket and finds a long piece of thread in a clump, trying to untie it, so he can use it to garrot Rhian, or at the very least, choke him effectively enough.]

Rhian: And I'm sure your bones would make a lovely tea set, once they're pulverized. [Rhian reaches over to clock Rafal upside the head with a book.]

Rafal: [leans out of reach, rolling his eyes] Child's play. [He shoves Rhian off his chair and that devolves into a second fistfight on the floor, more vicious than the first, in an all-out brawl as they forgo all dignity.]

Rhian: At least I have HONOR! [he bellows to stall Rafal, while attempting to summon his dragonfire.] I'll scorch you like I would a snowman!

Rafal: [raising his voice as he throttles Rhian in the neck, punctuating every sentence with a punch] You? Honor? You're the least honorable man I know. At least my Evil's out in the open, for all to see. Everyone knows I use underhanded means. Everyone knows I'm a two-faced backstabber. And they rightly take precaution and obey me. [spoken through his teeth with a clenched jaw.] My Evil's a publicly-acknowledged fact. Can't say the same about you, you who went to the Kingdom Council, who indelicately skirts around Ever customs despite claiming to be one. Which makes me the "honorable" one, by your twisted definition.

Rhian: How dare you— [as he rakes his nails across Rafal's face, drawing blood that clots immediately due to their self-healing, as per the original oath, leaving shallow, stinging wounds that knit themselves right up.] I will outlast you!

[Don't ask me how they can still heal despite breaking their oaths. The Storian derives sick entertainment from mindless repetition and senseless, brutish violence. That's why.]

[And, the Storian doesn't bother to write because this is a regular occurrence with two Evil twins—it's unworthy of a tale, infighting not balance. And so, the Pen just watches and waits and watches...]

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 17

Part One Link to ao3 Part 16

A speedy update? Couldn't be me lmao

Step Seventeen: Tell a Story

The party really wasn’t like any of the ragers he used to throw, but in Steve’s opinion that made it a thousand times better. 

From his vantage point on the arm of the couch, Steve could see everything, and all looked to be going well. All of the parents had quickly clustered together around the big dining room table, smoking and playing cards as they reminisced about the good old days and enjoyed the wine Steve had broken out of the cellar. Mike and Lucas were sprawled out across the floor, their books in piles around them as they designed new characters and argued about the best way to win against dragons, while Nancy and Jonathan had curled up together on the loveseat by the window, sharing a cup of cocoa and quietly whispering about god knows what. 

It all seemed peaceful. 

So naturally Steve was sitting next to the most chaotic conversation he had ever heard. 

“In terms of controlling the fight and better initiative, it’s the halberd. Hands down,” Frank declared. He was putting emphasis on every single word, as if doing so would somehow sway the three preteens throwing him impressively dry looks. 

“That’s assuming you have the speed and dexterity necessary to gain that advantage,” Dustin sighed, shaking his head and tutting. “The greatsword is not only faster, but it is shorter, which makes the swing that much more versatile.”

Mike and Lucas sagely nodded along from their spot on the floor next to Dustin. the calmness of the action only riling Frank up even more.

“Reach is speed on its own!” He snapped, tossing his hands in the air, turning to the others for help. Steve bit down the laugh that was attempting to escape, doing his best to appear supportive, and Eddie was already reaching over to give his friend the conciliatory pat on the shoulder. 

Steve wasn’t exactly positive how the debate had started, but it had to have been at least fifteen minutes of furious back and forth between the two. It was pretty entertaining to watch, made even better by the quiet comments Eddie would whisper up to Steve when he was sure no one else was listening. 

“Careful there Frank,” Jeff called from the other side of the room, not looking up from Will’s sketchbook as he did, “you sound like you’re losing to a twelve year old.”

“I am not losing,” Frank ground out. 

“I’m not twelve!” Dustin protested.

“Of course you aren’t losing, Frankie,” Eddie interjected, his tone practically dripping with false kindness. He accompanied the words with a brief pat to the top of Frank’s head. 

“Dustin just isn’t opening his mind to the possibilities that your elder brain has already thought through,” Steve added on, his stomach doing a weird flip-flop when Eddie turned to look up at him with a little gremlin smile. Teasing friends was different when it really was just teasing, and Steve couldn’t resist the urge to jump in and knock at Frank a little for getting so into a debate with the kids. 

“Okay just because you play now doesn’t make you an expert, Steve,” Mike added on, never one to miss a chance to try and knock Steve down a peg. Steve, very maturely, rolled his eyes and chose not to reply. 

“How about it, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, looking up at Steve where he was sitting perched on the arm of the couch, “halberd or Greatsword?”

“Steve, if you don’t choose the sword, I will feel personally betrayed,” Dustin spat out before Steve could even open his mouth. It was accompanied by a murderous looking glower, and Steve knew trouble was starting to brew on the horizon. 

“Eh, I think Baby might have a problem if I start using a different weapon,” He said, staying neutral and dragging the boys into a different conversation before feelings started to actually get hurt. 

“Baby?”

Fuck. 

Steve’s whole body stiffened up, and he glanced quickly at Eddie before turning away, mind racing to come up with an explanation. How the hell was he supposed to casually bring up the bat studded with nails that was sitting in the trunk of his BMW?

“Okay, but we’re talking in game, not real life!” Lucas objected, keeping the conversation flowing and unintentionally bypassing Eddie’s question. 

“Baby would be more effective than a halberd though,” Dustin pointed out, and Mike hummed in disagreement, flipping the pages of the manual in front of him as he looked for a counter argument.

“So who’s Baby?” Eddie asked quietly as they continued the debate, leaning back towards Steve so only he could hear the words. He was looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes, completely at peace with a soft smile and lax shoulders. He was the picture of calmness, and Steve wouldn’t ruin that with the Upside Down, not even in the most roundabout way. 

“I’m gonna get a refill,” Steve whispered to him instead, reaching down to quickly run his fingers through Eddie’s curls impulsively before standing up and stretching. He felt the hem of his maroon sweater ride up over his hips, and the boys groaned as the bottom half of Steve’s stomach came into view. “Do you want anything, Eds?” 

“Um no, ‘m okay,” Eddie said, his voice uncharacteristically small. Steve relaxed from his stretch, giving Eddie a quick once over. He looked the same as before, save for a slight color on his cheeks and averted downward facing eyes. 

Weird. 

Something to check on. 

But later. First Steve had to take a lap. 

“Dustin, don’t make Frank blow a gasket,” Steve ordered as he passed by, pushing the kids hat down over his eyes. Dustin growled at him and waved his arms blindly in an attempt to smack Steve away, but Steve easily dodged it, sliding over to the edge of the living room and down the stairs to the wine cellar. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered to himself as he picked two bottles at random. How could he have said something like that? He wasn’t even drunk! It had just slipped out, but that didn’t make it okay. Sure, the very existence of Baby wasn’t covered by the NDA’s, but just knowing about her would be enough to make Eddie curious, and curiosity led to more questions, which lead to more answers, which lead to more danger. 

Steve’s stomach flipped over on itself, and he leaned back against the cool stone wall of the cellar, worrying his lip as he tried to take a deep breath. 

There wasn’t any danger. Not anymore. It was just a party, and it was just one little sentence. Eddie would forget about it by the time he walked back up the stairs. He was working himself up over nothing. 

Or everything. 

‘Or’ might just be the scariest word in the world, Steve thought to himself as he climbed up the stairs feeling about ten thousand pounds heavier. He trudged over to the kitchen and quickly opened both bottles, leaving one to air out as he carried the other over to the dining room table, silently listening to the adults as they gossiped. 

“It’s such an insane story,” Sue Sinclair was saying in a quiet breathy voice as Steve walked in, barely even noticing as he started refilling her glass, “it’s hard to believe.” 

“It was harder to live through,” Hopper replied, extremely somber as he gravely shook his head.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise and giving up the act. He looked up just a bit to make eye contact with Joyce, who was also clearly hiding a smile behind her hand. 

“Maybe we should pause this conversation?” Karen asked lightly, politely jutting her chin out towards Steve who continued to pour without comment. 

“Steve knows,” Hopper quickly smoothed over. 

“He babysits Jane with the others,” Joyce added on, giving Steve a secretive look as she continued, “such a big help with acclimating her.”

All eyes were on him now, and Steve played his part perfectly. He poured the last of the bottle into Hopper’s glass and stepped back with a sigh. 

“She’s a great kid. Amazing even, after everything she’s been through,” Steve said, his voice pitched to the ultimate tone of caring worry. 

This seemed to seal the deal for the rest of the adults, and they fell one by one. Hook, line, and sinker. The women were twittering on about how sad the whole story was, and the men were shaking their heads and muttering to Hopper about how drugs were going to ruin the nation. 

Everything was going to plan. 

Steve couldn’t help the little burst of pride he felt watching all of the parents gossiping like hens. He was the one to come up with El’s cover story, and it couldn’t have been going better. 

El might not be allowed to go to school until next year, but Steve didn’t see a point in keeping her locked up in the cabin until then like Hopper wanted. The government knew she was alive now, and she had all her paperwork. Besides, having her drop out of the blue sky into one of the most unforgiving social settings on the planet was a complete recipe for disaster. 

This party had been the perfect test run for the story they were going to use to explain her sudden appearance, and it had passed with flying colors. But Steve had known it would work, never had any doubt despite everyone else’s concerns. 

He knew because he knew this town like the back of his hand. If you gave them a good enough story, something juicy and wild but with enough reality that it would stick, then they would buy it. Not only would they buy it, but they would sell it to everyone else on the block too. Now that Sue Sinclair, Claudia Henderson, and Karen Wheeler had the ‘truth’, El would fly into Hawkins High with only minimal odd looks and the occasional jerky kid to deal with. 

And what was the best cover story for a girl like El? 

“I just can’t believe that there was a suicide cult right here in Indiana,” Chuck Sinclair commented, sitting back in his seat. “How did no one know about it?”

“There was no way to leave without being killed. Anyone who would have told someone was killed. Brenner, the one in charge, was convinced he could create dimensions to other worlds and give children superpowers with LSD, if you can believe it,” Joyce replied, laying on the shock and surprise a little thick in Steve’s opinion. Still, whatever got the rest of them on board.  

“Ridiculous,” Ted Wheeler muttered, sounding absolutely disgusted. 

“We’re just lucky we found Will and Jane when we did. We were too late for the others,” Hopper paused to take a long slow sip of his drink, really selling the story. He even lowered his voice, causing them all to lean in, “The feds want to keep it real hush hush, and we were so afraid for the kids that we just went along with that bullshit water contamination story. But I mean, c’mon. Water contamination? Those people disappeared.” 

A round of mutters among the group, and then Karen Wheeler spoke up. 

“But Barbara Holland using drugs? I knew Barb her entire life. She always had such a good head on her shoulders,” She said, grief coating every word. Steve dragged a sharp breath in, holding the bottle close to his chest and forcing himself to stay still and silent as Hopper and Joyce did their best to explain. 

This was the part that sucked. To make the story work, really work, it had to involve everyone. Benny, Barb, Will, even the two hunters. All of them had to be explained, or the story fell apart. It felt dishonest to make Barb a part of it all, but El was still here, and Steve still had a chance to help her. 

For El. It was all for El. 

“That’s how the commies get you,” Ted remarked to Karen the second Hop was done speaking. “We’re just lucky she didn’t bring Nancy into it.” 

Steve bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. This wasn’t about him or his guilt. It was about El. 

“At least you saved that precious little girl,” Claudia breathed, hand still over her heart as her eyes glistened with tears. “It all must have been so scary for her. Does she know… you know… about her mother?”

“She does, but she doesn’t like to talk about it,” Hopper laid both hands out on the table 

“Listen, we really shouldn’t have said anything to you all.”

This was it. This was the moment that would tell them what was going to happen from here on out. Steve held his breath

“Our lips are sealed, Jim,” Chuck said instantly, the rest of the group nodding along. “Last thing any of us would want to do is put your daughter or Joyce’s son in danger. Whether it’s the government or some freaky cult stragglers.” 

There it was. 

In a small town like Hawkins, lips were always sealed. People said they wouldn’t say a word, they promised to keep a secret, but Steve had no doubt that by the end of the week the entire town would be abuzz with the story. The best part was, there was no one that would end up hurt. Hopper looked like a hero, Joyce went from local crazy woman to single mother who did everything to protect her baby, and El was just a poor child who was rescued from an insane terrible man. 

It was the truth, just… shifted ever so slightly. No lies involved. Not really. Just a perspective on it. 

The mood and the topic began to move, and Steve moved with it. He went to escape out the side door back to the living room, but as he went past her Joyce reached out, taking his wrist in her small hand and squeezing it once. It was a tiny display of affection, barely anything, but it stopped Steve in his tracks, making his heart do strange weird things that left his chest aching. 

Damn. 

“Are you alright?” Joyce murmured to him below the sound of the conversation. 

“Yeah?” Steve replied, unspoken question sitting between them as Joyce continued to hold onto his wrist. 

“You looked upset when you came in,” She observed. That was the best and worst part of Joyce, she never let anything drop. It reminded Steve a lot of Nancy actually, both of them so determined to get to the bottom of everything, even when it was best to just leave it alone. 

Of course it had to be Joyce. 

“‘I’m okay,” Steve said, trying for a thin little smile. 

Joyce hummed, rubbing her thumb over Steve’s arm as she forced him to keep eye contact until the fake smile slipped from his face. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve said, a dark cloud coming over him as Joyce continued to hold on. It was the same thing as Nancy. Stifling, impossible to be around, a feeling of claustrophobia that would never fully go away. 

It wasn’t any of Joyce’s business. It wasn’t like she was his mother. 

“Well, if you need anything you can always come to me or Hop,” Joyce said after a too long silence, releasing Steve’s arm. “We’re here for you guys too, not just the kids.”

“You’re allowed to not be okay.”

Eddie. 

Since he had said those words, they had been permanently branded in the forefront of Steve’s mind. Every time he tried to forget them, they returned with a vengeance, hitting him directly in the soft spot right above his breastbone. 

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know that. He knew that he was allowed to not be okay. He did. But it was silly for him not to be okay, because nothing had really happened to him. Will was the one who had ended up in the Upside Down. Nancy’s best friend had died. El had been fucking tortured for her entire life. 

In comparison Steve’s problems were so small it was laughable. 

So why was everyone trying so hard to tell him that they mattered? 

“Steve?” 

Steve had never been so happy to hear one of his kids. 

A hush fell over the adults as El popped her head around the corner, immediately coming over to Steve’s side and pressing close, trying to avoid the obvious stares coming from everyone else. They were looking at her with a mixture of pity and concern, but it was better than fear. 

“Hi Janey,” Steve said, playing with her curls and shooting her a warm grin, “you doin’ okay?”

El shrugged, burrowing impossibly further into Steve’s grip. 

“The others are being loud,” She said softly. Steve sighed, petting her hair again. He and Hop had talked about the possibility of this being too much for her, same as the Snowball. This party was mostly made up of her people, but even her people could be overwhelming. 

Luckily, Steve already had an idea in place. 

“Would you mind helping me with something?” Steve asked, already gently nudging El towards the doorway and into the kitchen. 

Making cookies was the perfect ‘cool down away from people so you don't have a meltdown and psychically destroy Steve's house’ activity. Steve had learned that El really enjoyed cooking, and although she couldn’t use her powers to get the flour down from the high shelf like she usually would if it was just them, she was still having fun. 

“Don’t listen to anyone who tells you oatmeal raisin cookies are bad,” Steve instructed, rolling out another ball of dough and placing it carefully on the cookie sheet. “They’re stupid and childish.”

“Mike hates oatmeal raisin,” El cheerfully replied, licking the spoon that Steve had handed to her when he was done mixing the batter. 

Now that it was just the two of them, she had relaxed. She was sitting on the counter next to where he was working, ever so slightly bobbing her head along to the music filtering in from the living room. Steve had relaxed along with her, all of the previous troubles of the night fading away, replaced by the smell of cinnamon sugar and the warmth of the oven heating up. 

“My point exactly. Mike hates everything great,” Steve countered, dabbing a bit of cookie batter onto the tip of El’s nose. She laughed softly, and stuck her tongue out, trying to reach the offending treat. 

“Mike likes me,” El shot back, continuing to try and touch her tongue to her nose. Steve watched her struggle for a second more before shaking his head and reaching around her to grab a paper towel. 

“Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Steve whispered conspiratorially as he wiped her face clean. This started up another round of giggles, and Steve laughed along with her, his entire body feeling light for the first time all day. 

He loved each of his kids for different reasons- even Mike- but El was just so easy. The rest of them couldn't help the compulsive urge to be difficult little hell beasts. They were always trying to show off how smart they were, which usually meant disparaging Steve’s intelligence to some degree. Even Will couldn’t resist a few snarky comments when he thought Steve was being overprotective.

But El thought Steve was one of the smartest people in the world, and she was always telling him so. It was objectively untrue, but it was fun to get to show her how to do things without being afraid of being told he was doing them wrong. Even something as simple as baking cookies was an opportunity to give her a new happy experience, and getting to be a part of that was kind of magical. 

“How about this- we’ll tell Mike you made these and you’ll see just how quickly oatmeal raisin becomes his favorite cookie,” Steve offered. 

“Sounds like fun,” A familiar voice said from the doorway, making Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

Steve turned around and gave Eddie a pleased grin, waving him in and turning around to finish up with the dough.

“Hey Eds,” Steve said as Eddie leaned into his space and snagged a bite. Eddie hummed appreciatively, going for another taste but Steve smacked his hand with his spoon before he could.

“You’ll get sick eating that,” Steve pointed out. 

“So mean,” Eddie said with a fake pout. He pulled away from Steve, walking around the kitchen aimlessly with swinging arms, “I was just wondering where our liege had run off to. Apparently you went to guide a wayward princess through the fine art of confectionary creation.” 

Said ‘princess’ was staring at Eddie with open distrust. Her spoon had been abandoned beside her, and her arms were wrapped tight around her middle. Steve was immediately reminded of her initial reaction to Max. Although they were thick as thieves now, El had been cold to her too at the start. Steve had figured it was some sort of pre-teen jealousy thing over Mike. 

Apparently it was just an all around jealousy thing. It made sense though. A girl who had nothing would protect whatever she had with ferocious intensity, especially her people. Time to do a little damage control. 

“Eddie’s my friend, and he said he wanted to be friends with you too,” Steve said, pitching his voice soft and low as he reframed things for El. If Eddie was one of her people, then she wouldn’t be quite so possessive over Steve’s time. “He’s a little loud, and a little scary looking, but he’s probably the nicest person I know.” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Steve just shrugged. He was just being honest, Eddie probably was the nicest person Steve knew. He cared about Nancy and Jonathan, and he loved the kids, but none of them were necessarily very nice. Eddie had taken Steve in without even really thinking about it, which would have been amazing even if Steve had just been another nerd.

The fact that Steve used to be one of the people who would have made fun of people like Eddie only made him even better in Steve’s eyes. 

El’s mouth pursed into a tiny little scowl, and she narrowed her eyes, evaluating Eddie where he stood. 

“Bitchin’,” El said after a moment, punctuating the word with an approving nod. It was probably the closest thing to approval Eddie could earn at this moment. 

“Yeah, Babydoll’s totally bitchin,’” Steve said with a laugh, stretching the word out just because it was funny to see Eddie turn bright red. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from the compliment or the silly nickname, but either way he was enjoying it. 

“It’s good to meet you, Miss Jane,” Eddie said, coughing and trying to will away the blush on his cheeks, “Steve’s told me a lot about you.” 

El turned to look at Steve, adorably confused by Eddie’s statement. Steve stiffened up, avoiding his knee jerk impulse to shake his head. He hadn’t told Eddie anything real about El, just the same story that Hopper and Joyce were selling to the parents. But El wasn’t good with secrets at the best of times, and the elaborate intricate story that they had woven would probably be too much for her. 

“El? EL!” 

“Mike, stop shouting!” Steve said, shouting himself, relieved at being interrupted before things could get hairy. He rolled his eyes and shot Eddie a look, calm now that Eddie seemed less curious about El and more fondly annoyed with Mike and his antics. “We’re in the kitchen.”  

Pandemonium as all four boys trooped in, clustering around El and chattering their heads off like they always did. Steve let out the breath he had unintentionally been holding, leaning back against the counter as he watched the kids mess around. 

“Steve, stop hogging her,” Mike snapped as he pulled away from El, glowering at him with all of the brutality of a two week old puppy. 

“El’s a person, not a toy. She can do something without you and that doesn’t mean she likes you any less,” Steve said, ignoring Mike’s sputtering denials as he helped El down from the counter, “The oven has to preheat anyway. Why don’t you go inside with them, and when the cookies are ready, you can help me dunk them in the icing?” 

El nodded, allowing herself to be pulled away by the boys. But just as she passed Eddie she stopped, grabbing onto the sleeve of his leather jacket and looking up at him from behind her curls. 

“You’ll join us?” She asked. Eddie leaned down so they were the same height and nodded, reaching out to ruffle her curls. 

“I’ll be here, Lady Jane,” Eddie promised. 

“El,” She corrected. 

That was big, even if Eddie didn’t fully realize it. It wasn’t exactly a full acceptance, but only people El actually liked were allowed to use her ‘real’ name. 

“El?” Eddie questioned. 

“A nickname. Not sure where she got it,” Steve stepped in, smoothing out the wrinkle before it could even form. He nudged Lucas, pushing them all towards the door, “Now scram, twerps.”

The kids all immediately began to groan and whisper curses under their breath at the word ‘twerps’, and they dragged El out without another word to Eddie or Steve. Steve turned and began to gather the dishes, dumping them all into the sink and turning on the water. As he started scrubbing, Steve felt more than saw Eddie’s presence approaching him. 

“I think she likes me,” Eddie sang, leaning all of his weight against Steve. He caught Eddie easily, carrying both of their weights as he continued to do the dishes. 

“What’s not to like?” Steve asked. The question was rhetorical, but the shaky little breath inward that Eddie let out wasn’t. Steve paused, sensing the mood shifting, put down the bowl he was holding and faced Eddie. 

He looked wrecked, inexplicably upset and almost guilty as he chewed on his lip and searched for words. All Steve wanted to do was wrap him in a hug and ask what was wrong, but he held back. Whatever Eddie was trying to say, it was important. 

“Steve-”

But whatever Eddie was going to say was interrupted by the sound of an engine outside. The motor was roaring, an obnoxious sound that grated on Steve’s nerves and set his teeth on edge. There was only one person who revved their stupid car that way in town, and he was the last person Steve wanted to see tonight. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good. 

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[kerwynlar]

Good Man

A Belly Kink Fic by Kerwynlar

The aristocratic author Lord Woolsey has found that he thinks best on a full stomach. A very full stomach. His butler is only all too happy to help out.

Tags: Explicit, Belly Kink, Burping, Overeating, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Enthusiastic consent but problematic power dynamic, implied/referenced sexual content

Note: This work was inspired by the excellent At His Service by pizza_my_heart. In that story the author does a beautiful job of putting the employer and the butler on equal footing. That's not what is going on here. While enthusiastic consent is given in this story, the power dynamic here makes the consent, at least the initial consent, dubious at best. In the real world this would be very fucked up. If you agree that it's hot in fiction, please read on. Basically all of my fics are built around very loving healthy relationships. This is not that.

1,163 words. Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Reginald Montcrieff was not sitting idly fantasizing about his employer eating. Reginald Montcrieff was very busy balancing the household accounts. He had certainly not been staring blankly at the page for nearly half an hour, stirring at every half-sound that might be the bell summoning him to the dining room. 

Reginald was not picturing the plates heaped with eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, beans, and tomatoes that he had served to his employer, Lord Peter Halberd Woolsey. He was certainly not picturing forkful after heaping forkful passing Lord Woolsey’s lips. And by no means was Reginald’s mouth watering at the thought of all that food heaped into his employer’s already rounded belly, stretching it and weighing it down, expanding it within the increasingly tight confines of his clothing. 

The bell from the dining room finally rang and Reginald stood so fast, he nearly knocked over his chair.

---

Lord Woolsey was, at least according to the press, one of the greatest minds of his generation. His first two treatises on political philosophy were considered required reading for anyone seriously concerned with public affairs and were discussed and quoted from the coffee shops of the intelligentsia, to university classrooms, to the great halls of Parliament. He was currently penning his third, widely anticipated, treatise. 

While he was writing his second book, Lord Woolsey discovered that he thought best on a full stomach. A very full stomach. 

Reginald had been a footman during the writing of that second book and had marveled at the sight of the platters that had been taken into the dining room and equally marveled at the fact that they were all empty when returned to the kitchen. 

But only the butler, whose duties included being the lord’s personal attendant, was permitted to interact with Lord Woolsey when he was writing. His lordship said that he needed to keep his mind clear of extraneous voices when writing. 

Following the publication of the second book, when Reginald was once again permitted in a much more corpulent Lord Woolsey’s presence, the lord had begun to notice him. The notice turned to interest and conversation. Eventually Reginald had been invited to Woolsey’s bed. He had been assured that it was an invitation, not an order, and he had been more than happy to accept. 

“Would you like a promotion, dear Reg?” Woolsey had asked him one night as he watched Reginald dress after an encounter that had been pleasurable for both of them. 

“I wish to serve you, sir,” Reginald had replied easily. “However you see fit.” 

“I’ll be writing again soon.” Woolsey ran a hand over his soft belly. Reginald didn’t bother to hide his appreciative look. Woolsey saw it and grinned. “You know about my… eccentricities when I’m writing?” 

Reginald swallowed. “Yes, sir. As much as I can from the outside.” 

“You’d be prepared to cater to them?” 

Woolsey liked it when he was bold on occasion. Reginald climbed back on the bed and crawled up to him. He leaned over and kissed Woolsey’s plush belly. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need. Anything you want.” 

The other butler had been fired the next day and Reginald had taken his place. 

——— 

When Reginald entered the dining room, Woolsey was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, and both hands rubbing his belly. Reginald felt his mouth go dry. Woolsey’s belly was straining against his waistcoat and trousers. 

“Was everything to your liking, sir?” Reginald asked as he began clearing the empty plates. 

“Oh ye- UUUUUURRRRRP! Oh my, excuse me, Reg. Uurrp!” 

Heaven help him, Reginald was getting excited by his employer belching. 

“Nothing to worry about, sir,” Reginald replied more smoothly than he felt. 

“And yes, tell Cook that I’ll want the same again tomorrow. Buuurrrp! With perhaps a few more sausages and a bit more toast.” 

More? Reginald could scarcely believe it, but all that was left on the plates he was clearing was crumbs. 

“Shall- shall I bring you anything else now sir?” 

Woolsey smiled at him. “Good man. But no, I’m quite satisfied for now.” He frowned suddenly and rubbed a particular area of his belly, then pushed on it and immediately let loose a thunderous belch. “Mm, pardon me, dear Reg,” he breathed. “I hope I don’t offend you.” 

“Not in the slightest, sir.” 

Not in the slightest. Did Woolsey have any idea? He certainly knew how Reginald worshipped his belly in bed, how he loved the round shape of it, its soft plushness. But this? Woolsey’s overindulgence and the evidence of it? Well, if Woolsey knew he likely wouldn’t mind. There was no doubt he enjoyed when Reginald was aroused. 

Woolsey belched again and gave a quiet groan, his hands roaming his large belly. “Ah, that’s good,” he sighed. Woolsey gave his belly another pat then sat up. “Come, dear Reg,” he said. “Give me a hand up. I’m positively weighed down by that lovely meal.” 

Reginald quickly put down the plate he was about to take to the dumbwaiter and hurried over to help Woolsey out of his chair. As he heaved Woolsey to his feet, he felt his employer’s eyes on his face. 

“You’re looking a little flushed, Reg,” Woolsey said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. Woolsey chuckled and Reginald tried not to notice the movement of his belly. Though that was more difficult when Woolsey took Reginald’s hand and placed it on the curve of his belly. “You like this, don’t you?” Woolsey asked quietly. “You like to see me plumped up with a meal. You always do like my belly. Can you imagine how fat I’ll get writing this book? I’m only on the second chapter, and I have lots more to say.” 

Reginald gasped. He was painfully hard. 

Woolsey glanced down and chuckled again. “Now what shall we do about that, hmm?” 

“S-sir…” Reginald stuttered. 

“I need to go write my book, dear Reg,” Woolsey said quietly, moving forward so his belly was inches from Reginald’s groin. “And I suggest you take a few minutes to compose yourself. But think how big I’ll be tonight after a nice big lunch of roast chicken and then beef and potatoes for dinner, hmm? I’ll be swollen and sluggish. Too full of food to really fuck you. You’ll need to ride my cock. But you’ll do that, won’t you dear Reg?” 

“Y-yes, sir!” Reginald couldn’t have controlled his breathing if his life depended on it. 

“That’s my good man.” Woolsey reached up to stroke Reginald’s cheek again. “You’ll look so pretty straddling my lap, your hands on my stuffed gut. You’ll be ready for me tonight, won’t you Reg?” 

“Yes, sir,” Reginald gasped out. 

Woolsey pressed Reginald’s hand to his belly and gave two quick strokes to the outline of Reginald’s cock clearly visible through his trousers. 

“See that you are,” Woolsey said, and stepped back, surveying Reginald with a smile. He chuckled and left the room. 

Reginald barely got his fly open fast enough. 

~*~

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I appreciate you letting me know. I have another chapter partially written, and I'm more likely to finish and post if I know it will get readers.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

if you're not busy maybe a request with yandere claude frollo with a darling who are from the modern days and somehow got trapped into the movie/world the film takes place in.

any prns

You are my story

warning : obsession, some angst, yandere Frollo

Info : I kinda like this idea the confussion and obsession was fun writing it have fun reading dear anon and thanks for the request

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How did it happen? It was just a free day evening, an evening alone in front of her TV and the old DVD she had found. A few memories of her childhood when she had watched the movie over and over again with her grandma and grandpa. She knew every song and wanted to go to Paris herself.

But not like this, not in the Middle Ages and not in a scene she knew what it would mean. She was scared when she saw the huge old buildings, the people watching her as she came out of the alley. The clothes so different from the humans no dress, no covering under fabric.

She almost screamed when she saw that her image had changed despite her modern clothes, she was not realistic. It felt like her body yes, but when she saw that she looked like she had been painted in a puddle, she almost screamed out of confusion and fear.

It was sinful. It was fear that coursed through her body as she tried to run away from the city herasu wanted to escape the events that would make VParis burn. Get out of Paris, there must be an exit, she thought, looking around hurriedly, but there was hardly a blind spot in this city.

There were people everywhere, people who almost brought the city to a standstill, guards who patrolled and, as she herself soon learned, guards at the gate who kept her from perhaps finding an exit with their halberds raised.

,,And I'm supposed to believe you, traveler?" he asked again, the iron key still locked in his ringed hands. She knew him and had tried to explain to the judge that she didn't want anything here, that she just wanted to go back.

But unfortunately she had to realize that it was only because the story here deviated from the movie that his justice dragged on. That his curiosity and excitement flashed in his eyes as he walked around her.

She felt his gaze on her clothes, on her Jean's, which clung to her legs and on the T-shirt under which her bra was slightly visible. He hasn't changed…he's getting worse, she realized with horror as she still felt the heavy metal on her wrists as if she didn't stand a chance. But Frollo the judge had actually believed her words.

He wasn't stupid, the clothes she was wearing weren't from here, weren't from anywhere in the world, weren't from any books he'd read. Her language and the way she talked to him was "different", it wasn't like something had been changed over time.

,,I can't let you go…darling you see people would want to see you burn" he murmured looking out of the small window seeing in reflection how she was thinking. Her knowledge probably went up to a certain point, but something was different.

She didn't seem to have thought about this story here, didn't pay attention to the knowledge of time. ,,And-and what should I do, Frollo, you have to let me go, this isn't my story," she protested, wanting to reach for him but he grabbed her hand instead.

Seeing the desire flash as the chains rattled he restrained himself from attacking her it was obsession she saw. His grip was firm in a surprising way and she wanted to leave, wanted to go back to her world, to her time.

Didn't want to live in the past of a movie where she lived with an insane righteous murderer. ,,But you're my story," he said with a smile, taking hold of her chains and pulling her close, running his fingers almost cautiously over her shirt.

He saw her shudder as he traced the hem of her bra, fascinated by the clothes on her shoulders and what was underneath. Seemed completely interested in her entire appearance and something told her that she wouldn't just feel the metal on her.

That she would never get out of the city, let alone his house. That he would lock her away, study her, watch her, make her his. She would become another hidden detail of a story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ria-coolgirl , @aliensthegreat , @nunezs-stuff , @magmabayvi , @cedric-my-beloved

[halberdbooks]

My newest poem, "Cumulogenesis" (oh no I misspelled it in the video they are going to throw me off a building oh no oh no)

more poetry here

[level2janitor]

Iron Halberd is fully releasing today!

Iron halberd is now done playtesting and fully released! Major additions since the playtest include a bestiary, rules for building strongholds and waging warfare, cleric miracles based on how well your character impresses their god, tons of small and large improvements to wording & playability, a quick reference sheet for easy rules-checking at the table, robust GM and player guidance, and loads of shiny new treasure.

Semi-random but equally competent characters, defined by their equipment loadout. Character creation involves a lot of random die rolls mixed with player input, and all resulting characters can contribute effectively.

All attributes viable for all characters, regardless of playstyle. A heavy-armored weapon-user is just as viable focusing on Stamina and Power as they are focusing on Speed and Spirit; the same goes for book-toting spellcasters, well-prepared dungeoneers or anything in between.

Classless customization with support for different types of warriors, light-armored swashbucklers, heavily armored knights, rangers, thieves, scholars and alchemists; wizards, witches and bards with distinct spellcasting styles; ritualists and priests of any sort of god.

Streamlined design while keeping robust subsystems. The core moment-to-moment rules are quick and lightweight, but the system's loaded up with rules for forging equipment and artefacts, brewing potions, hiring and managing followers, foraging for food, tracking time and torchlight during dungeon crawls and downtime, and stealth and reaction rolls during random encounters.

Slow leveling with an emphasis on in-world progression. Gaining experience and levels is made a smaller portion of a character's power budget, instead focusing more on discovering treasure and artefacts, forming alliances, raising armies, and building strongholds as your primary form of character progression.

Simple, lethal and open-ended combat that goes by quickly and allows for creativity in critical moments. Uses abstract positioning instead of specific measurements, characters constantly doing exciting maneuvers, and slow healing which ensures all damage taken isn't just a today problem.

[lesssial]

Trying to figure out the year in Bram's/Fyodor's Backstory

So what I'm looking at is Vlad the impaler's timeline along with a few hints in the manga. But not much Dracula because I haven’t read the book, and also because the book takes place about 400 years later.

So the castle that Bram lived in, for people who don't know, is an actual castle in Transylvania Romania named Bran.

Basic info

-Bran castle was built between 1377 and 1388. (Vlad the impaler never set foot in it but Dracula lived there.)

-Vlad III ruled Wallachia

-Vlad the impaler / Vlad III lived from 1431-1476 (He was defeated by the ottomans not Romans and his head was shipped to Constantinople/Istanbul)

-Vlad III’s reigns; 1448 (For a few months), 1456-62, and 1476-77.

It is a bit hard to truly connect to two while they ruled two different regions (Transylvania & Wallachia)

The knights

In this panel, we can get a look of the types of armor these knights wore.

The majority of the helmets resemble a barbute helmet which was used in the 15th century

The rectangular shields (scutum) mostly disappeared by the end of the 3rd century

Mainly spears and Halberds (The spear ax things) with an occasional sword in the crowd of knights. (Spears were cheaper at the time)

The full body armor became popular between 1400-1500s.

Byzantine empire fell in 1453 while the holy roman empire fell in the 1800s.

What nation are the knights from?

This is the main question. Are these knights from the Holy Roman empire? The Byzantine empire before it fell? Most likely not the ottoman empire due to the amount of christian symbolism. It can’t be the Byzantine empire because they rarely if at all used Halberts. Also the Byzantine empire fell pretty early so it's unlikely they were associated with Bram’s defeat. It seems like the Holy Roman empire however they did not use rectangular shields, favoring a kite or heater shield instead. Then who else?

I couldn't find any good maps

Fyodor mentioned the North (Idk why Bram started blabbering about the west). Do you know what was north of Transylvania? The Kingdom of Hungary who also had a skilled army known as the black army that used rectangular shields and was big on spears and Halberd.

The Hungarian Black army (1458-1494)

From the evidence gathered so far, it must be 1458-76.

King Matthias & the Sultan

Here, Bram asks Fyodor who he serves, either King Matthias (The king of Hungary) or the Sultan (Leader of the Ottomans). Bram was suspicious of the Sultan for the reason that they started eyeing Europe once the Byzantine Empire fell, along with his history with them (Held hostage as a boy). The tension between King Matthias and Vlad III started when Matthias received a letter from the saxons allegedly written by Vlad III in which he offered support to the Ottomans. This was enough to convince Matthias of Vlad III’s treachery so he imprisoned him from 1463 to 1475. Vlad III was intercepted and captured by Matthias after he had escaped Ottoman capture and sought Matthias for assistance. This could be when Bram was defeated in the manga(?) So I guess the year may have been 1462-1463?

Some bonus info that I noticed is that Matthias signed a peace treaty with the Holy Roman empire in 1463. Maybe Bram was defeated after they signed the treaty so they could form some sort of coalition against him (This could explain why the knights all had religious imagery on their helmets).

Another thing is that Bram was impaled(?) alongside two other women. In the Dracula book, I believe it was mentioned there were three female vampires that the protagonist had to defeat before killing Dracula in the castle. This could hint towards the fact that Bram was in the castle when he was attacked and defeated.

(I'm having trouble mixing history and fiction. Fyodor definitely had a hand in this. No way he just came to warn Bram for no reason)

None of these images are mine (I'm sure you know, but just in case)

Yeah that’s all I got, please comment to correct me and/or let me know if you know anything. (Might edit later idk)

[theothergal]

Some time ago I made a post talking about a tweet about Eloise Bridgerton, where the OP said that she hoped that Eloise's friendship with Kate would eventually "teach" her that she can be herself and still do all the things she's firmly opposed to (like being feminine, getting married, having children ecc...) and I talked in general about some things that irk me of the whole NLOG discourse, but now I want expand.

A lot of people complaining about NLOGs say that they have nothing against gnc female characters, they just don't like HOW they are portrayed...and I believe them, but sometimes, the way they talk about the NLOG in question makes me wonder whether they are actually ok with a female character being gender non conforming, because the NLOG growth Is often associated with her overcoming her "internalized misogyny" by learning to love and embrace traditional femininity.

And I mean, sometimes It happens, but come on, you really think that every single tomboy/masc girl Is an internally misogynyst who just has to learn the joy of ✨girly girliness✨ to grow as a person?

And don't tell me I'm making things up, just look at the way people talk about NLOG characters, it's always:

"Ugh, another strong female character who doesn't like dresses and makeup, why cannot women be STRONG and FEMININE ?" (and then the female characters they're complaining about is a completely feminine woman with full makeup wearing *gasp* pants).

"Why cannot female characters be soft, kind and nurturing? Why do they always to act like men?" (Where acting like men means being...assertive, bold, loud, authoritative...yeah).

"I want a female character who rejects femininity because she has been forced to perform It all her life...and then she learns ✨on her own terms✨that actually makeup, pink ,dresses and embroidery are the Best Thing in the World and becomes the Girliest Girl that ever Girled™".

This is the argument that annoys me the most, the idea that a person who has been forced into femininity, if left free, will eventually start to love and perform it but "on her own terms", whatever that means. What if "her own terms" are never performing femininity again? Why do you struggle to understand that some people will NEVER like femininity, no matter how "gently" you push it on them? You really think that femininity Is only empowering and never traumatizing?

And then there's my favorite people *sarcasm alert*, the ones that say that female characters being masculine and acting "like men" (whatever that means) instead of being soft, kind and waifish Is unfeminist because It implies that women must reject femininity to be strong.

See what rubs me wrong? The fact that the complaints about NLOGs center the supposed "unfemininity" of the character, as if It's a bad thing by itself and as if female characters aren't overwhelmingly feminine.

And again, there's a conversation to be had about how femininity Is considered generally frivolous and women are expected to look effortlessly good, but I CANNOT take you seriously when you say that masc women dominate the media, when the icky masc women oppressing girly girls you're complaining about look like this:

ID 1: a picture of princess Peach from Super Mario. She's a girl with long, blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a bright pink and white racing suit and holding a halberd. She has a determined expression.

ID 2 : a picture of Eloise Bridgerton from Bridgerton. She's a young woman with medium lenght wavy hair, Hazel eyes and white skin. She's wearing a pale green empire waist dress with puffy sleeves. She's standing and holding a book.

ID 3: a picture of Rhaenyra Targaryen from House of the dragon. She's a woman with long, straight light blonde hair, blue eyes and white skin. She's standing and wearing a long, black gown with gold and red embroidery with dragon motifs.

I'm not making up a strawman, I've seen way too many people complaining that alle the above characters are too masculine, and not just whiny conservatives. In fact, talking about HOTD, I find It quite interesting that people are complaining that Rhaenyra Is not feminine enough, but there are less complaints that Baela Is not a tomboy like she was in the book. In fact, I've seen several users say that Baela being more feminine Is better, becausebit shows that WoMeN cAn Be StRoNg AnD FeMiNiNe!!1!1!

It makes me think that your problem Is not feminine female characters being disparaged (as if masculine female characters aren't), but gnc female characters existing at all.

If you say that you have nothing against masc female characters, why would you make learning to love femininity and overcoming misogyny coincide?

Unless you think being uncomfortable with femininity Is misogyny by itself.

It seems to me that you only are ok with masc female characters as long as they return to femininity at the end of their story.

[necromancelena]

Oh for fuck's sake! Well initially I had an idea for a little themed stream that was going to be called shovelware sunday where people pick out shovelware games for me but I'm not even sure this counts as shovelware! this came out years before the Hobbit movies and decades after the book so I think this just constitutes a shitty adaptation. I guess it came out right after the Peter Jackson LOTR movies. It says "The prelude to the Lord of the Rings" right behind my tits and Halberd there. so it's at least a little bit shoveled. Anyway Chicory picked out the game for me and then made a stream promo so there's no arguing with it at this point.

sooo uhhh. Streaming The Hobbit for the Nintendo Gamecube today at 4:00 PM EST/ 1:00PM PST!

You can watch the stream Here!