#i tried so many fucking times with the formatting but it kept on fucking up...

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠🤍

𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕨 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠

word count: 1.5k

genres: n/a

warnings: mentions of depression medication and mental health, male masturbation

notes from bambi: here you go!

Matt did see everything. He liked to lurk in the triplet’s fandom spaces, and when his mental health was good, he even found it kinda fun, though he would never reveal this aloud. He definitely enjoyed watching those same spaces work themselves into a tizzy at his knowledge admittance–these kids were so funny. So it came as no surprise to him when the Tumblr TikTok video showed up on his feed.

Matt hadn’t had a good night. He’d tried to jerk off earlier, all to no avail. His antidepressants were helpful for his mood and overall outlook on life but goddamn did they make it hard to masturbate. With a snarl, he had pulled up his boxers and opened TikTok. That was over an hour ago, and now Matt scrolled aimlessly on his private account. He was quite proud of it actually. He disguised it as some random fanpage and had made it a personal mission that week to reblog a few videos about himself. No one would know, and he was nothing if not a Matt girl. 

The video on his Following page was formatted simply–a girl in her room, as most of them were, and he saw it was one of his favorite fan accounts. She always had good takes and the drama in her comment section kept him incredibly entertained. She was expressing her fear at his now-infamous “I see everything” line, and with a chuckle, he pressed the heart icon, preparing to scroll away. In his sleepy haze, he missed, hitting the comment bubble instead. What he saw made his head tilt.

user

   oh ik the tumblr girlies shakin rn

      user

         LMAOOOO REAL

      user

         i’m so lost 😭😭😭

      user

         tumblr can’t be worse than here

      user

         wait what’s on tumbler?

           see all 63 replies៴

user

   bro does NOT see everything, he’d be traumatized

     see all 12 replies៴

user

   @ user WHEN I SAW THAT I SCREAMED

user

   you guys are gonna make them quit if you keep doing ts

     see all 241 replies៴

Matt rolled his eyes at that one. He knew it was a valid concern, but he also knew that there were prices to be paid for being famous, and he would take a few weird stories in exchange for the life of his literal dreams. And besides, he reasoned to himself, they were always so off-the-mark anyway that it didn’t even feel like he was reading about himself.

But back to the matter at hand. Matt had never even heard of Tumblr, so there couldn’t be that many triplet fan accounts on there, and he figured that after everything he’d seen on Twitter, he was ready for anything.

“Well this is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbled to himself, scrolling to the end of the “headcanon”, as it was called. Matt read the name of the “blogger” (he was learning so many new terms tonight) that posted it - some strange amalgamation of letters and numbers, with, of course, “sturniolo” tacked on to the end. Matt elected to keep his thoughts on the spelling to himself. “You’re weird for that. All of it.” He swiped out of the app, fully prepared to roll over, go to sleep, and forget all about it.

…

But what else did they get wrong about him? What did the rest of them think he did when he had sex? Matt figured he should check that “sturniolo triplet” hashtag one more time. 

He sat up properly for this, sighing as he flicked on his bedside lamp. It illuminated his room, its soft light showcasing the woodsy decorations he’d furnished months ago. With a grimace, he opened the accursed app once more and began a deep dive.

It seemed the entire community centered around “smut” of him and Chris. He saw a few for Nick, a handful for Nate, all of which he scrolled past quickly, blinking them away. He wasn’t trying to dive that deep.

The first thing Matt noticed was that almost every story had a line of photos at the top, like a faux header. None of the images contained anything amiss–all were photos posted by him and his brothers throughout the years, pictures taken by fans at shows, and the like. No, the real stuff lay in the words. This was a community–he could tell that much from the amount of reposting–of very good writers. Many of their stories spanned thousands of words with multiple parts and real plots woven throughout. And there were a lot. It was dizzying. He adjusted himself. 

There were stories for almost every situation, some even making him a drug dealer (though most writers seemed to think that out of anyone, it would be Chris, which he found hilarious due to the fact that Chris couldn’t tell a convincing lie if his life depended on it), a mafia boss, a father, a mechanic, or simply just a doting boyfriend. Some wrote him as a harsh, domineering man, quick to take his bratty girlfriend to task. Some wrote him as a needy submissive individual, and the words they used made his head spin. Matt adjusted himself again. His dick didn’t normally bother him this much. Maybe he needed new boxers. 

Matt himself only had a bit of experience in the wide world of sex. He knew there were some wild kinks out there, but he found he was never much interested in watching that kind of porn, and he’d only been with a few girls his entire life, none of whom had ever asked him to perform such tasks on them, so he really didn’t know what he liked and didn’t like. As he lay in his bed, his lamp casting fuzzy shadows over his room, Matt couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen.

They think I’m capable of actually…spanking someone? Am I? If she wanted it, I guess…Apparently I’m some sort of sex god, super posessive, I have a breeding kink, whatever the fuck that means, and Chris and I fight over girls a lot. To him, that was the most unrealistic–he and Chris had wildly different types. 

The sheer amount of stories depicting him absolutely rearranging the guts of the reader or y/n (he still had no idea what that meant) made his brain short-circuit, and he tried to tap out of the one currently pulled up. But alas, Matt still had no idea how Tumblr worked–the images below every story just took him deeper, and it was one of those images that he misguidedly clicked on, an innocuous lilac purple, covered in sparkles. Seems harmless enough.

As Matt tapped around, trying to get back, he found himself on another account and thoroughly lost. An underlined word in the first post caught his attention–concepts. Subtitled below were the words, “short headcanons about the triplets! both sfw and nsfw”. He tilted his head. ‘Sfw’? What does that mean? A quick Google search quieted his questioning. Surely a “safe-for-work” headcanon would be fine to read. He tapped the link, and it directed him to a simpler page, one organized using just his name and Chris’s, each one with links below them. His thumb hovered over one near the top, its title mildly intriguing–“soft!dom!matt”.

Then he paused. Was he really doing this? His dick began to throb. He should have just left the whole thing alone, but now…well, now he had to know. 

Five words in and he was pumping his rock-hard cock in his hand. Matt’s neck strained, his left thumb shaking as he tried to scroll to read more. Such a short piece of fiction and yet…

His stomach began to tie itself into knots. The more he read, the more he panted. His whole pelvic region felt tingly and his cock was so warm in his hand, and getting warmer by the second. This was different than anything he’d ever jerked off to before–this wasn’t a video, or even a naughty selfie from a girlfriend. This was pure porn, about him bringing some unnamed girl to completion over and over again. Matt didn’t even know that was possible. The unnamed girl couldn’t even handle his cock, that’s how tight she was-

The moment he realized this fact, his nuts clenched and he spurted cum all the way up to his chest. Pumping furiously, even raising his hips into his hand, he continued his explosive orgasm, letting out breathy groans as he did so. His chest heaved with heavy breath, and Matt felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes from how hard he’d just finished. He collapsed on his bed, sheets askew, pillows rearranged, staring blankly at the ceiling.

And then Matt realized which head had been doing all his thinking for him this entire time. Letting his now-limp dick flop to the side, he let out one more gasp of air. “That was weird,” he said aloud into the empty room. “Never doing that again.”

notes from bambi: i referenced my own work because it didn’t feel right to use anyone else’s without their consent, and i wanted to put this out today, not because i think my writing is better than anyone else's or because i think matt would prefer mine over yours. remember that it’s all just fiction and we write for fun. i hope you all enjoyed!

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @madisturn @mattspolitank @sturnsxplr-25 @xtravrgnoliveoil @raysmayhem-72 @sturnpooks @certifiedstarrr @melanch0lybby @freshloveforthefit @xoxo4chrisss @stunza @meerkatzthings @zivall @sturniolopepsi @that1fangirll @wh0schl0 @sharksworldd @mattscoquette @chrisslutx @sturnzsblog @solarsturniolo

[teez-the-time]

Choi San, Wolf Warrior

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance, angst

Synopsis: Ten years ago, your best friend San promised his eternal love to you. Now, the danger of his oath creeps through the both of you, and he has to bear the weight of his words. No matter what his fate will be, you must remember that he is the Wolf Warrior.

Warnings: Blood, wounds, death (animals die, I'm so sorry), weapons, cursing, San is fucking RIPPED, reader doesn't do much (sorry again), way too much flashbacks and monologuing (sorry x3, but I do not know how to stop), sappy af.

Wc: 7.8k

Taglist: @darkdayelixer

A/N. Well, it's finally here. This is officially my first fanfic posted here. Do I believe this is my best work? No. Do I care? Maybe, but I appreciate any feedback that you might have (please take into account that English is not my first language, so I rely in grammar checkers and that stuff). I'm not sure if I should keep the second person format, but you tell me what you think. Again, I'm open to suggestions and kind criticism. If the story sucks, sorry not sorry.

Once again, I'm eternally gratefull for the support I've received in this platform. Whatever you need, my DMs are always open.

XOXO -May

A little treat for those who liked the story.

Your tribe had a sacred tradition.

The first hunt is the most sacred; dedicated to whom you thank your life for.

The best hunt is the most important; dedicated to whom you’d die for.

That is why you couldn’t help but tremble while looking at San down below.

Even if he had clearly announced his decision to embark on the journey no more than a couple of months ago, nothing could have prepared your heart.

Not even kneeling alongside your father and your mother at a higher ground, far away from where he stood, could you escape the power radiating from his stance. Even his posture was perfect; perfectly still and elegant, like a wolf just like the one he had marked with ink on his chest. His eyes looked up, and you knew your Sanie was long gone.

He was Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

The drums started beating in an ancestral rhythm; one you had heard in too many unsuccessful attempts. Men and women below hollered and twirled their bodies to the music, almost in a spiritual trance brought by the excitement of the hunt. The sound got louder and louder in your chest, so hard that it felt like a second heart. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran several times through your spine. You just kept praying for it to be over.

And just as they had started, the drums ceased as your father rose as the chief of the village. He, too, didn’t feel like your father anymore, his hierarchical title far outweighed the one of father right now. You couldn’t decipher his expression, no longer familiar to you.

“Choi San”, his voice boomed through the whole village, “why are you here today?”

To you, San didn’t look intimidated one bit. “I’ve returned to fulfill my promise made sixty-two days ago, in this very place.”

This was all part of the ceremony, nothing more than a formality, but your heart fluttered with San’s words. But still, you knew he was wrong. No, he didn’t make that promise sixty-two days prior. He had made it way before that when you both were young kids.

He had promised to marry you ten years ago, at age twelve.

But your father didn’t find it that endearing. “An oath like that can’t be made by anyone. Are you sure you will be able to keep it?”.

San didn’t fall for the taunting. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Are you sure? Do you even know the consequences?”

Everyone knew them, even more San. “Yes, sir. I know them.”

“Are you willing to go through them then? Even if it means your death?”

With that, San let out a grin. “Especially if it means my death…sir.”

Then, the chief let go of the mocking stance he had tried and became solemn again. For the briefest second, you had hoped San stepped down, but you also knew him like the back of your hand. You knew he never backed down from a challenge.

Your father cleared his throat. “Very well, then. Seeing your determination to proceed, I’ll remind you once more of the rules.”

The few whispers and hushed voices that had been going around since the start finally came to a halt. The newfound silence made your head spin and your palms shake even more.

Gods, you prayed, don’t let harm come to my San. Please give him my strength and my will if he needs them.

“Rule number one. You have only one chance. If it’s lost, it’s lost. Gone forever.”

“Rule number two. You will not receive aid from anyone or anything. The village will only intercede if the hunt doesn’t finish with the beast’s death.”

“Rule number three. You will only carry one weapon of your choice and no armor. Any of those will deem the attempt failed, and you will lose your only chance.”

“Rule number four. The hunt only stops after one of you is dead.”

While your father talked, San seemed unfazed. Even if he already knew the rules, it made you uneasy to not know what he was thinking. You felt the urge to run to where he stood, grab his hand, and smooth out the crease on his brow that always popped up when he was thinking hard.

You yearned for nothing more than to be by his side.

“Choi San,” now your father spoke in a warning tone, “dare to break the rules, and you will face consequences bigger than what you can imagine. I will make sure of that.”

Not once had San looked intimidated, and that put your heart at ease (just a tiny bit, if you are being honest).

“I understood perfectly, sir.” San had always respected your father as a chief, so he always tried to keep his composure despite the adrenaline in his veins making him want nothing more than to begin with the hunt. But he had to remain polite, especially now that he was trying to become his successor.

“Good,” the chief stated plainly. “If there’s nothing else to say…let the hunt begin!”

The drums resumed in a frenetic rhythm, making your heart race once more. Nevertheless, below where you sat, San seemed pumped by it. He let the thick fur coat he wore fall to the ground, exposing his naked torso and ripped pants. You knew he did it to prove he wore nothing to protect him, but you couldn’t the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, that was hot” you murmured unintentionally. You looked to your left to see if your parents heard. Your father didn’t appear to have listened to you, concentrated on his duty as referee, but your mother let out a snort. You shot her a glare and she tried to suppress her laughter.

Trying to appear unfazed, you looked back at San. He was now holding a beautiful sword, which you knew like the back of your hand. The hilt was golden and decorated with flowers and power symbols. A short inscription written at the butt.

Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

It was barely more than his name, but San had spent a fortune having it engraved in the shape of your handwriting. You smiled at the memory of a sixteen-year-old San running to show you his new possession.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard your name being shouted from behind you. When you turned, it was San running towards you at full speed, holding a piece of fabric in his hands. He finally reached you, showing his dimpled smile. “Geez, why do you have those ears if you can't even listen when one is shouting at you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut it. Not my fault you are so out of breath that I couldn’t understand shit of what you were shouting.”

“I was not-!” He looked like he wanted to bicker, again, with you, but he cut himself short. “It doesn’t matter, look what I got!” He proceeded to remove part of the folded fabric, exposing a shiny object. The blade of a sword. You let out a gasp and he chuckled. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But there’s more.”

He uncovered the rest of the weapon, and your eyes fell on the golden inscription. The letters were masterfully carved on the metal, so much it took you a moment to realize it was written in your handwriting.

“Is this…?” You didn’t even finish your sentence, and San already knew what you were trying to say.

“Yes. Custom-made from the best welder in town. It cost me a fortune, but it’s worth it.” San was grinning like an idiot at what he thought was an accomplishment.

Nevertheless, that didn’t sit right with you (even though you couldn’t deny that your heart was racing like a horse). “Are you dumb?! Why are you spending your money on dumb things like this?”

Your heart broke a little when you saw his smile falter. “What are you saying? Of course, it’s not dumb!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it 's not!”

“I said, yes it is!”

He frowned and grabbed your hand. “No, it’s not. Wanna know why? Because every time I wield it and see the hilt, I’ll be reminded of what I have back home. That I have someone waiting for me to come back. My treasure.”

His words from back then still made you feel warm, and after that, you always felt proud seeing him carry that sword.

Your gaze is torn away from the weapon to San himself. He was pacing around the makeshift arena planned for these occasions, warming up his limbs. His eyes seemed to wander through the place, not focusing on anyone, until they fell on you. Despite the seriousness that had ruled his behavior up until that point, he gifted you one of his characteristic smiles, which turned his eyes into two small crescents. Even with the loud music coming from the drums, you heard some girls squeal from his gesture, and you laughed at that.

San always knew how to lighten up the mood of every situation.

He kept walking until his back was turned from you, which you took as a chance to admire his sculptured figure. While he had always made clear to whom his heart belonged, that didn’t keep people from falling in love with his god-like looks. His chiseled torso was littered with tattoos, going around his arms, neck, and ribs, in addition to the big wolf head on his chest he had gotten when he was nineteen (when he had absolutely begged you to come with him for moral support).

His body was also covered in scars, mostly from battle wounds and hunting accidents. Some looked old and faded, while others appeared more recent. You knew each of them fully, seeing that you were the only one San let tend to him during those times. When he lowered his arms, you got a glimpse of his most famous one, which he bore on his left forearm. The one that earned him the title of Wolf Warrior, back when he was just twelve.

You stood waiting, just a few meters from the edge of the forest the boys had gone into a few days prior. Many of them had already returned and were celebrating all around you. But, still, there was no sign of San’s return.

You had accompanied San’s parents to wait for San to return from his ritual first hunt. For your people, this marked the beginning of manhood; a rite of passage from boys to men. It was the first time each of the boys would go hunting on their own, and they wouldn’t be allowed to come back without a prize. This ceremony was reserved for only the closest people in the boy’s life, but San’s parents had asked you to come since you were his best friend (and practically their niece, being their best friends’ daughter).

“It’s getting late, again,” San’s father said, and he was right. The sky was turning red and purple with the last lights of the day. Another day without San. “It’s only been three days, so it might still be early for him to return.”

“But most of the boys have come back,” his mother noted. She bit her lip, looking at the forest. Then, she looked at the grass and let out a sigh. “I guess you are right, we can wait another day.”

They moved to leave but stopped when they saw you hadn’t gone with them. “Y/N, let’s go home.”

You wanted to wait just a bit more. Just to be sure San wouldn’t come back that day. “I want to wait a few more minutes. If you want, you can go ahead and I’ll go back when I’m done. There are plenty of other parents here, so don’t worry about me!”

They didn’t look convinced, but they still let you. “Fine, but come back running to us if something happens.”

You waved them goodbye, but before long had passed, you saw some bushes rustle. You squinted to make sure your vision didn’t betray you, and a large figure emerged from the last line of trees. A scream rose to your throat when you saw the thick fur, but it soon died down when you saw the person carrying the furry mass.

“It’s San! It's San!” you shouted back at the distant figures of San’s parents. Thankfully, they had heard you, and they were sprinting back to your position. You ran behind them but stayed back when you saw them embrace their son.

“My son, my son is alright!” his mother repeated while holding him in her arms. Her husband embraced both of them without saying anything, but his face showed the relief he felt.

He is supposed to have returned a man, you thought while looking at the sweet scene, but they will still treat him like their baby.

“San is back!” you heard another boy say, “San came back from the hunt! But…what did he bring back though?”

That seemed to return San and his parents to reality. The ceremony wasn’t finished, as he still hadn’t presented his prize. They untangled themselves from their son and stepped back, allowing him to regain composure. It was then that you could finally see San clearly for the first time. He was soiled in mud, part of his clothes were tattered, and he had several scratches on his face, neck, and arms, but he didn’t seem bothered by them. He looked exhausted, on the verge of collapse even.

“San, my son,” his dad called out to him, “what have you brought from the hunt?”

San looked back at the big leather bag he had dropped with his parents' hug attacked. From the opening, a lot of fur spilled out without a clear form. “My prey was difficult to catch, that’s why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sanie,” his mother reassured him but, to you, she looked nervous. “It doesn't matter what it is, just that you are here. Have you decided who you will offer it to?”

You smiled at your friend. Even if you had stood back all this time to let the Choi family have their moment, you were overjoyed at seeing your best friend take part in one of the most important challenges in his life, and you would have given anything to run to his arms. Nevertheless, you stood back and contented yourself with giving him your usual reassuring smile (also, you couldn’t deny that you were madly curious to see to whom he would give his hunt, although knowing him, it was probably his parents).

Somehow, when you caught San’s eye, he didn’t relax. On the contrary, he stepped back from his parents' embrace and clutched his bag, never releasing tension. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

Mr. and Mrs. Choi held hands, seeing their now-grown son make an important decision. You also squealed in delight, cheering on your friend as he threw the bag over his shoulder with effort. He walked towards his parents and…ignored them?

Your confusion grew as he walked past his parents in your direction. You looked behind yourself, just to see no one. San kept approaching you until he stood merely two feet away. At that distance, you had a better view of all his injuries, especially the gnarly cut on his left forearm.

“Oh my god, Sanie!” you let out, closing the distance to grab his injured arm. “You need to get that treated immediately. It’s going to scar!”

Tension seemed to lift from his shoulders as San heard your typical nagging. He grabbed your wrist back and unlatched your fingers from his arm. “That’s not important right now!”

“What do you mean-!”

“It’s not,” he cut you off. Stepping back a little, he put the bag back on the ground, letting it fall with a loud thud. “This is what’s important right now”.

He opened it completely, a gray furry mass spilling out partially. San kept grabbing and pulling, freeing the animal from the cramped space. Once it was completely out, you let out a scream.

An enormous wolf was looking back at you.

“San, what the hell!” you stumbled back from the shock. “You brought a whole ass wolf?! Are you allowed to give that thing to someone?”

Sanie beamed his boyish smile. He grabbed the animal by the scruff, not raising from his kneeling position, and offered it to you. “I’m not giving it to ‘someone’. I, Choi San, from the Choi family, present my most sacred achievement to you, whom I most treasure and thank for in life”.

Your memory was shattered by the piercing shriek that resonated through the arena, making you clutch your necklace (made from the wolf’s teeth) in fear. It sounded like straight out of your nightmares.

The rumble of heavy steps only confirmed your worst fears.

San was looking directly at the forest line, where the noises were coming from. He stood his ground as a couple of trees fell and many shook with violence. The shouts of other men could be heard as they came closer and closer. Finally, before the whole tribe appeared a creature that left you nauseous.

Four enormous green and scaly legs carried an even bigger body; as tall as the tallest building in your village. The scales shone under the harsh sunlight and were thick enough to compare to an iron armor. Its talons tore through the hard soil like it was mere sand. Its lack of wings didn’t make it less intimidating; on the contrary, it warned its prey of its prowess on land. But it wasn’t the size, the fangs, the talons of the scales that paralyzed your body.

It was the eyes.

For the briefest moment, your gaze connected with the dragon’s. Its eyes glowed red with a primal fury you had only seen on a cornered animal, waiting to fight back if only to cause damage to its hunter before its ultimate demise. That look raised every hair on your body.

The dragon continued to shriek and thrash against the chains that the men, whom you recognized as San’s best friends, held tightly. They were being overpowered by the creature’s brute force, but they still held on for their friend’s chance at having the best prize the village would ever see.

All for you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” San had turned to the crowd, “let the best hunt our people have ever witnessed in our long history begin!”

The sound of chains hitting the ground was almost drowned by the roar of your people. Once the beast was free, it lounged at full speed at San, forgetting about his other captors, hissing and letting its venom drip on the floor. An involuntary scream was ripped from your throat as you stood from your kneeling position.

“San, run!” you screamed moving forward, but a heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from going further. It was your father’s.

“No, you stay here,” he demanded.

“Father, you have to stop this,” you pleaded at him. “This is madness! San can’t fight on his own against that!”

But your father was unmoving. “No, this is the challenge he chose, and he must accept his fate.”

“You don’t believe that,” your tone was dark, “at least not with San. Do you want your best friends’ child to die a stupid death? Do you want my best friend to die a stupid death?! Because I wi-!”

While he had remained emotionless during all the ceremony, now he looked furious. “(Y/N), compose yourself for gods’ sake!”

“But-”

“Your feelings do not matter right now, only San’s. He is down there, risking his life only for you to look at him. He chose this, no one else, and what he needs the most right now is your support. Do you understand?”

You understood, and those were the words you needed to sober up. Regardless of your feelings, whether you thought he was being reckless or not, San was fighting for the acceptance of your love in the eyes of your village. He didn’t need you to doubt him, he needed you to be by his side. Not to mention that he would be upset that you doubted his strength.

Until that moment, San had managed to evade all of the dragon’s attacks, opting for taking a defensive stance. The strength and size difference between them was abysmal, so the fate of either would be reduced to who could endure the chase for the longest. A battle of attrition.

The dragon charged at full speed once more, and San stood his ground, sword in front of him. The beast had almost reached him, when San dodged at the last second, managing to slash the tendon of one of its talons, but his arm brushed against one of its scales. Blood began to gush out of the wound, but he paid no mind to it. The battle was far from over, and he was determined to be the last one standing. He owed it to himself, and you.

For what seemed hours (and probably were), you saw San run around the arena, dodging attacks and inflicting more on his opponent. He was visibly injured, having been hit numerous times by the sharp weapons of the dragon, and caked on blood and mud. Nevertheless, the dragon itself wasn’t in a much better state; San had managed to slash open the tendons of three out of the four legs, and it had trouble moving at a fast speed. The sturdy sword of San had also pierced the thick armor of the beast, leaving big wounds on its sides and belly.

Dragons were magnificent creatures. They were perfectly designed to withstand almost all types of damage, being covered in those solid scales that rivaled metal. Some had enormous wings that they used to soar the skies of their vast territories, some breathed fire and ice. Many explorers even claimed that some races could even understand human language. From those many tales, it was expected to believe these beasts were invincible. However, what not many knew was that dragons did have a weakness, a physical one even. Under the sturdy chunks of armor on the chest, just at the area where the heart would’ve been located, the scales were more fragile, soft enough to let a blade penetrate the skin and kill the creature. Not many knew of this weak spot due to the difficulty of even getting close to a dragon, let alone surviving the encounter. Not many knew of it, except for San.

He could see that the dragon was getting tired from constantly playing the offensive. The blood loss was weighing it down, making its attacks slower and weaker, and San wasn’t easy prey to catch. He had been getting closer and closer to the one spot that would lead him to victory. The plan was to make the dragon bleed as much as possible, before ending it all in one move. He wasn’t much fan of making his prey suffer, but neither he was of getting his head bit off (leaving you practically widowed).

San kneeled for a moment, taking a breather as the dragon hissed at a new wound he made near its tail. His own injuries were also slowing him down, although the adrenaline kept him moving. He knew he couldn’t keep up much longer, and it was time to put an end to the battle while he still had the strength to continue.

It was time for the last act.

You saw San muster up the strength to stand up. You had lost count of how many times he was close to finally hunting down the dragon, so now you prayed that he just kept inflicting cuts on the beast until it finally died from blood loss. However, something was different in San. He seemed more confident this time, and you knew what it meant. San was now playing the offensive.

In half a second, San had banished from where he had been standing. Your eyes found him again a few meters closer to the dragon, sprinting at full speed directly towards him. The animal had taken notice of your friend, and stood firmly on its four legs, waiting to rip his head off his body. When San was directly in front of it, the dragon raised on its hind legs, as if to gather full force to strike down on the man and end the fight. You let out a gasp.

It was a fatal mistake.

Instead of stopping as the dragon had expected, San slid underneath it, raising his sword as the creature threw itself down full force. You blinked. One moment, the dragon had been roaring in victory and, in the next one, it was shuddering as it had impaled itself directly into San’s blade. The last remnants of life escaped in convulsions from the body of the beast, and it collapsed unceremoniously into the ground, a mere carcass of the magnificent animal it had been before. The crowd went quiet for the death of a splendid being.

You couldn’t care less for the animal. You couldn’t see San, so you were beginning to be worried that he had been crushed under the weight of the dragon. Your eyes frantically searched for him, until a figure emerged from beside the dead body. San was drenched in blood and struggled to breathe. He had never let go of the sword.

It was the true sight of a legendary hero.

San raised his hand and tried to wipe away some of the blood off his face, which made you chuckle as it was also covered in blood. Realizing the futility of that, he desisted and, instead, looked down on his weapon. He smiled at the inscription and grabbed it with his two hands. In one swift movement, he stabbed the chest of the dragon once more. You frowned in confusion as he kept stabbing and cutting through the body of the beast, as it was already dead, leaving a carnage behind. Behind you, a couple of old men were discussing the useful properties of all the organs and parts of the dragon and how they would have used them, but you couldn’t care less about that. At last, San seemed to find what he was looking for and dropped the sword. He plunged his hands into the hole he had made (which made you gag a little if you were being honest) and pulled out something. Everyone around you let out a collective gasp.

San was holding a dragon’s heart. A heart made out of pure gold.

Your jaw went slack. The heart was huge, as it belonged to a huge creature, and probably weighed a considerable amount. Nevertheless, San held it with the remaining strength he had. You couldn’t start to fathom the value of such rarity, much less the fact that it was now yours. The crowd cheered as he raised the piece over his head; a sign that declared him the victor.

Having basked in glory long enough, San secured a grip on the golden heart and began the ascent towards where you still kneeled beside your father and mother. It wasn’t that long of a distance, but carrying a heavy object after hours of battle sure was harsh on his body. Despite the ache, he continued to advance.

Your mother reached out for you, smiling as she grabbed your hand affectionately. "He did it! He did it! Finally, you can marry San!"

Finally.

You glanced down at San once more. The grown man that just killed a dragon looked nothing like the kid from ten years ago.

"Marry me". San blurted out of nowhere. The sudden request startled you, making you accidentally press on his wound. "Ouch! Be careful, you idiot!"

You felt offended. "Me? An idiot? You are the dumbass that proposes to someone while they are cleaning your wound. I should let your arm rot for being an idiot and reckless on your first hunt!"

He glared at you. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Try me."

He didn't reply, and you fell into a comfortable silence. San had dragged you away from the banquet his family had prepared on account of his newly acquired "manhood", complaining how his arm hurt from not being properly treated and he needed you to do it for him. Now you sat on a small hut next to his house, illuminated by a small candle, jars of ointments and gauzes lying on the floor beside your forms.

San watched as you applied another cream to his arm. "You didn't answer".

You didn't look at him, focused on treating him. "You didn't ask anything". Before he could hit you with a reply, you added "Besides, we can't get married".

That seemed to upset him. "Why not? We know each other perfectly, and our parents as best friends. I'm sure they would accept it".

You laughed at his naïveness. "It's not about approval. Marriage is for people that love each other".

Now, San just seemed confused. "But we love each other. We say it all the time".

"We love each other," you conceded, "but we aren't in love with each other". San's expression remained confused, so you tried to explain it in another way. "You and I love each other as brother and sister, and we act as such. People that get married treat the other as…well…lovers. They spend time together, they share stuff, they hold hands, they kiss. They swear to be with each other until death. They take care of each other. Forever!"

Your explanation didn't convince San. "But, don't we already do that? Minus the kissing, of course. Wouldn't that mean we are in love?"

The mere thought of being in love with San sent your prepubescent brain into short-circuit. It repulsed you in some way, as you had only looked at him as a brother, but you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"No, it doesn't," you exclaimed. "Also, people that get married first become girlfriend and boyfriend! You can't be my boyfriend!"

San also looked repulsed at the sound of that word. "Ew, no! I don't want a girlfriend".

"See, that's why we can't get married".

"I don't want a girlfriend," his eyes burned holes in your head, "but I still think it would be nice if we got married. We already promised to be in each other's life forever and I care for you, so I don't think it'd make much difference".

You briefly looked back at him and rolled your eyes, grabbing a roll of gauze. "Why are you even thinking about that, Sanie? Marriage is an adult thing. We are twelve-year-old kids!"

"Speak for yourself! This proves I'm a grown man", he pointed at the wound, grinning. You shot him an amused look, opting for saying nothing and continuing with your job. It didn't take much time for San to break the silence yet again. "I guess all this new 'adulthood' stuff got me thinking about this new chapter of my life and-"

"Mhm"

"-all the things I can do now. Somehow that ended up in my thinking about marriage and how would it feel to get married to someone you like, you know?"

"Yes, yes".

"Then I thought of who I would marry, and I thought of you. Since all that best friend shit is basically the same shit you described, but if you say it's different, I guess it is. Either way, we should wait a little more before that, to think matters better and decide if-"

Oh, no. San had started rambling. "Sanie! What on gods' sake are you trying to say?!"

"What age do you think is the most appropriate to get married?" He looked dead serious now.

You finished dressing the wound, and threw your tools on the ground, exasperated by San's strange behavior. "I don't know! I already said that marriage is for adults!"

"Well, then at what age did your parents get engaged?"

You loved the story of how your parents go together, so it was an easy question. “Oh, my father proposed to my mother when he was twenty-two and she wa-”

San beamed as he interrupted you once more. “Perfect! Then my proposal will be suspended until then. I will ask you again when I turn twenty-two. That way I’ll give you time to fall in love with me, or whatever it is that you need.”

All the previous conversations had proven fruitless again and again, so it was better to leave things as they were, hoping that soon San would move to other subjects.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll probably have forgotten it by then”.

Except, he did not. And neither did you. On the contrary. With time, you had grown fond of your best friend, leaving behind the innocent affections of childhood to make place for the blossoming feelings of romantic love. Where you were hesitant to express these feelings, he openly did to anyone and anything willing to listen. He wanted you and only you. It wasn’t only the grand moments of expressed admiration that made you fall for him, but the quiet moments of thoughtfulness that instilled your devotion for him.

When he carried your things without a word, even if he knew you were perfectly capable of doing it on your own. When he held your hand as you walked through more deserted parts of the village. When you would silently work on the injuries he would bring home, never asking how he got them. When you would hold each other, letting the other shed their tears, just basking in each other’s comfort.

All those moments paved the way for the unspoken transformation of your relationship. You were neither friends nor lovers. No words could describe the depth of your understanding of each other. So, for you and the rest of the world, you were simply “Y/N and San”.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As usual in any other important celebration, San had dragged you away from everybody. This time, it was his birthday and, although he loved being with his friends and family, he wanted to spend time alone with you. As you both grew, so did your responsibilities, yours as the daughter of the village chief and San’s as the strongest member, so there were periods where your time together was limited.

As soon as you were decently away from the rest of the party, San had taken you in his arms in a warm embrace. You inhaled his scent. He smelled like home. You didn’t question what was up with the sudden display of affection, you knew he would let you know in time. He was never one to keep quiet for much time.

“Marry me”.

He hadn’t forgotten. San was a man of his word.

“Today I turn twenty-two,” he told you, as if you weren’t currently celebrating that fact, “it’s the day I’m finally asking you to be mine”.

Your heart threatened to escape your ribcage from pure glee. “I’ve always been yours, Sanie. Since the day you first asked.”

You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thank you, thank you. You know that I belong to you too. I’ll take care of you, so good. Every day, all day. And you won’t be able to get rid of me”.

You chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You can barely take care of yourself”.

“But it’s different since I don't care about myself, only about my treasure”.

For longer, you remained like you were. Many breaths passed before any of you said anything.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” he announced, shattering the moment, “it won’t be for too long and the guys are coming with me”.

“Leaving? To where?” you asked, confused.

“As much as I’d love to stay with my beautiful fiancée,” you loved how the title sounded coming from him, “I have to bring her a pretty hunting trophy, so she can boast to the whole town about having the strongest boyfriend to ever live”.

You stayed silent. Even if you wanted San to forgo tradition and stay with you, you knew he wasn’t in an easy position. As the chief’s daughter, you didn’t require him to only fulfill the role of the husband. By marrying you, he would automatically become the next in line for the position of chief, as you had no male relatives that could assume it. Thus, he needed to prove himself worthy of you and the whole village.

The very next day, he announced to your community his intentions of marrying you and becoming head of the village. The day after that, he was gone.

Sixty-two days had passed since you last felt his warmth, so when he stood before you, still covered in blood and grime, holding his heart (well, not his in a strict manner), you itched to extend your hand to his cheek and wipe the exhaustion away.

Once more, the ceremonial drums stopped after hours of incessant banging. It was time for your father to speak.

“Choi San,” he called out to your lover, “Ten years ago, when you were barely a man, I bestowed you the title of ‘Wolf Warrior’, which has been reserved for the strongest of our kind, in hopes that you would use it to protect and serve our people. Despite that great honor, you have used that same title and strength to recklessly endanger our home by bringing a dragon for mere spectacle. Had things gone askew, it wouldn’t have been just your life that we would have lost, but many others”.

After the little speech he gave you about trusting San, you were surprised by the harsh scolding your father was giving San in front of other people. Nevertheless, you understood his position as responsible for the village.

“However, on this day you have achieved a feat none of our ancestors could compare to. The tale of the man who single-handedly slew an adult dragon with just a sword will be told by many generations to come, under the title of ‘Choi San, the Dragon Warrior’; title I am to bestow you and will only belong to you. But I’m afraid names and merits would be meaningless if the intent behind them isn’t honored”.

Your father paused briefly before resuming. “Time and time again, you have proven your worth as a man beyond the power of his sword. Your contributions to the safekeeping of our people speak for themselves, and any reward would be in order as compensation for your service. However, I know you seek not money or fame, but something deeper than that.

“Choi San. I’ve seen you and Y/N grow into the splendid adults you are today. I’ve seen your care for each other and your understanding of each other. After today, I do no doubt that there is no better man for my daughter, and no better one to succeed me when I am no longer able. Therefore, I declare successful your attempt and bless the union between the two of you”.

Your heart soared higher than the sky above you. You could have broken your neck with how fast you whipped your head to look back at San, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

San. San. Sanie.

He was on one knee on the ground before you. The golden heart sat on the floor in front of him, displayed as an offering to you. He held his hands open, waiting for you to take them. You did so, standing up and grabbing his fingers, not caring one bit that they were still covered in grime. San looked at you intensely, wanting you to look at him and only him. Now and for the rest of your lives.

“My treasure,” he spoke so softly as if you were going to shatter if he spoke any louder, “from my very first breath, everything I’ve done has been for you and only you. My first thoughts in the morning and my last ones before bed are of you, and even in my sleep I see you next to me. Every beat of my heart is for you, until the last of them. But, even then, there are no words to describe how deeply I love you”.

Your lips quivered, but you broke into a teary smile nonetheless. “Oh, Sanie. If you keep going, I’m afraid I will cry for real”.

“Don’t worry,” he gripped your hands tighter, “I will be here to wipe away all of them”. San planted a kiss on your knuckles before continuing. “Ever since I was a child, I knew it was you who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, even if you disliked the idea of that. I knew it had to be me who had to be there in your moments of joy, as well as your moments of sadness. It had to be me who cared for you when you weren’t able to care for yourself and be by your side when you didn’t want anyone else. It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be me”.

You swore you could hear some girls sigh behind you, and you couldn’t relate more to that.

“Today I, Choi San of the Choi family, offer you the best of me. I present to you this prize as an offering of my heart, my body, and my soul, which from now on are yours to dispose of. If you wish to accept it, and therefore accept me, I’ll belong to you for the rest of eternity. If you let me be by your side, I’ll do my best to care for you, and not even water will touch your hands. These words will be true, whether you accept my offerings or not since it’s only to you I wish to lay my life for”.

With a last kiss to your hands, he brought them up and rested his forehead on them. The tips of his ears appeared slightly red and his own hands trembled. You knew your Sanie enough to recognize he was equally nervous and embarrassed (which he had nothing to feel shame for, as he had said cheesier things under the influence of liquor).

You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hand, hoping to soothe his nerves. “Rise, my young warrior. A man like you should be kneeling for nobody”.

He didn’t stand up. “But you aren’t ‘nobody’, my love. You are my strength and my will”.

This man will be the death of me, you laughed to yourself.

“And you are the most stubborn man I’ve ever encountered,” you poked at him. You tugged firmly at your intertwined hands, signaling that you needed him to get back on his feet, “and I’m afraid that you won’t be able to hear my words properly from down there”.

That made him look up to you once more, and finally stand up from the ground. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from letting go of his fingers to remove a piece of hair from San’s eyes. Your own ones lingered a while longer, just to find themselves cupping his cheek. San snuggled up to your palm instinctively, reminding you of a cat.

“My love,” San closed his eyes and sighed at the name, “you have fought so bravely for the both of us. Not just today, but for a very long time. It is me who should be thanking you for brightening my life with just your presence, and for never giving up on me. We’ve had our highs and lows, but there’s no time of my life that I can remember without you being present. You too have had full ownership of my heart since the very beginning, and it is not my desire for you to relinquish your rights to it”.

“I too want to be the one who cares for you when you aren’t able to fend for yourself. I too want to be who you come to when you have wounds to heal. I want to be who you wake up to every morning, and who you sleep next to every night. I want to be the source of your strength and your place of rest; to protect your heart from harm and your mind from turmoil.”

“My Sanie, for as long as you let me, I will be yours, and even further than that if you decide you love me no more. Everything I have, I will share with you. Where you go, I will go. Whom you love I will love, and whom you despise I will despise. There’s nothing that will give me greater joy than to be yours. So I, Y/N, accept this prize as a symbol of my love and the union that will bind us from now on”.

You had barely finished when you found yourself spinning in the air, San’s hands grabbing you firmly by your waist. You finally let out tears of joy and looked down to see that he was crying too. San put you back on the ground, but never let you go. On the contrary, he pulled you towards him in the biggest hug. One of his hands held you by the waist, while the other rested on the back of your head. Your forehead hid on the crook of his neck, and your hands moved restlessly across his broad back. The drums now played a happy beat and people danced for the new couple. From the corner of your eyes, you could see your parents and San’s embracing each other, finally together as a family.

“My love, my love, my love,” San whispered in your ear, unable to stop repeating those words.

“My Sanie,” you whispered back, “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long”.

“Nothing of that matters now,” he reassured you, “I could have waited longer if it meant I’d have you at the end.”

“You always know what to say,” you joked. “Always the hopelessly romantic idiot”

“You are right. But now I’m your idiot”.

“No, you are my husband”.

San stopped all movement before slightly pushing you away from him. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before grabbing your face with a smirk adorning his lips. “Hell yeah, I am”.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Your brain melted to mush and you could only think about him, surrounding every part of you.

San. San. Sanie.

The world could have ended at that very moment, and neither of you would have cared. Not when you had each other in every sense of the word, cause that is all that mattered. You and him.

Y/N and San.

Follow @teez-the-time for more!!!

Do not use without permission from the author.

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion (Part 1) Everybody hates tieflings, and how discrimination impacted a young Zevlor:

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BG3.

These series of posts were originally one loooooong post— but apparently Tumblr has a character limit, and I found it; so now it's been split into several parts/posts.

((Part 1, this post, is mostly to give context to the discrimination faced by tieflings in Faerûn. The third part is where the meat of my Zevlor analysis is.))

(Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladin oath. (Part 2.5)

(Part 3) Zevlor's actions during Act 1, an analysis of a man who is barely holding on.

(Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

(Part 5) Zevlor's actions during Act 3, an analysis of a man with his faith restored.

(Part 6) Zevlor's actions during/ after the epilogue, not all endings are happily ever after— especially not for a tiefling.

(Part 7) Zevlor in a romantic relationship.

I don't think many bg3 players understand just how dedicated and loyal of a person Zevlor is. This ADHD hyper-fixation fueled multipart-thesis is meant to show how Zevlor's past is as tragic as any of the origin characters'/ Durge's. It's meant to show how horrifically broken Zevlor was when he "betrayed" the other tieflings. It's also meant to show that our beloved blorbo would probably be fervently obsessive if he was in a romantic relationship.

Most importantly: It demonstrates how our favorite man Zevlor was most likely a fanatical religious zealot my dudes. He was (probably) a part of the Faerûn equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition lite.

I have kept this as factual as I am able to. Please keep in mind that Baldur's Gate 3 plays it fast and loose with the DND/ Forgotten Realms canon and lore, on top of DND/ the Forgotten Realms itself regularly disregarding and changing it's own lore and canon. DND lore and canon as a whole is a mess. It has multiple universes that sometimes interact and are maybe separate from each other. Full disclosure; I've mixed 1e-5e lore together FUCK 5.5e, because parsing through what is currently considered canon is a nightmare. As far as I'm concerned, as long as a piece of lore was canon at some point in the past 50 years— it's fair game. @y-rhywbeth2 in this post has a more in depth disclaimer. Also please check out their headcanons and lore breakdowns, they're so good.

THIS PROJECT TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE. I've tried to find all grammatical and spelling errors. I've tried to ensure that I've cited the correct sources in the correct places.

I have given up on trying to understand Tumblr's inconsistent post formatting. Why does the 'small' option for text sometimes actually make the text smaller but other times it makes the text larger???

______________________________________________________________

● (Section 1) The Origins, Anatomy, and Physiology of Tieflings:

AN: It used to be that tieflings could only breed with other tieflings and humans. This seems to have been changed recently— one no longer has to have a demon somewhere in their genetic lineage to be a tiefling, one of their ancestors having contact with a demon is enough to produce a tiefling descendant. Which has interesting implications for Warlocks. There are also special versions of elf and orc tieflings.

(From what I can tell) tieflings live for about the same amount of time, maybe ~10 years longer than, humans do. (AN: Remember how I said the Forgotten Realms loves to retcon and disregard it’s own lore? The wiki states that their life span is from 90–150 years, but this source is from 2004 and the lore has greatly changed in the past 20 years. I am choosing to ignore the wiki here for my own sanity.)

Tieflings were humanoids with fiendish ancestry. They came about due to one of their ancestors (even many generations prior) getting freaky with a demon being "touched" by the evil planes in some way.

"Tieflings... were infused with the touch of the fiendish planes, most often through descent from fiends—demons, Yugoloths, devils, evil deities, and others... Although their evil ancestors could be many generations removed, the taint lingered."

Before some warlock shenanigans happened, tieflings had a much wider range of appearances than the ones we generally see now.

"In 1358 DR, a warlock coven...the Toril thirteen performed a ritual that cursed most tiefling lineages... [changing] their original lineage with that of the archdevil... Asmodeus [who] became a god... giving most tieflings... a similar devilish appearance... [whereas before] infernal blood could be diluted through intermarriage... afterward, the union of a tiefling with another race always produced a tiefling child."

Their infernal ancestry gave them some very powerful abilities.

"Tieflings had a number of abilities gifted to them by their fiendish heritage... an innate resistance to heat and... a hint of bloodlust that gave them a slight edge in combat. Tieflings also had access to an ability known as infernal wrath, which channeled their innate rage and potential for evil into their attacks for added effectiveness... [they] tended to have better reflexes than their human kin... [Tieflings are] alluring and intelligent creatures, with a seductive aura in spite of their obviously evil ancestry...

Along with some not so great traits that fed into the prejudices against them.

"Other, more unusual characteristics included a sulfurous odor, cloven feet, or... an unsettling air about them... a general aura of discomfort they left on others... most people were uncomfortable around them, whether they were aware of the tiefling's unsavory ancestry or not... Tieflings were carnivores. They consumed blood, blubber, bone, gristle and meat... [and] raw bone marrow..."

Tieflings tended to be resolute and tenacious, with a strong internal drive to rise above their circumstances.

"They are adaptable and resilient to hardship, and possess strong aptitude at whatever pursuit they dedicate themselves to... When facing adversity, the tiefling instinct is not to withdraw from the world, but rather to challenge it head-on... Tieflings seek to make their own fates, defy the odds, and take risks that... most... would not dare."

For some awesome insight on tieflings check out this post [alt] by @gortashs-skidmark, it's a good source on tiefling appearances and traits. Along with this post [alt] by @pikapeppa providing evidence-based headcanons on tiefling appearances. And this post [alt] by @y-rhywbeth2, which talks about how a tiefling's physical traits are influenced by their specific infernal heritage.

Their infernal appearance and weird vibes are why almost

● (Section 2) Everybody Hates Tieflings:

Even before Elturel's Decent into Avernus, and subsequently the events of BG3 (both of which I will cover later), Tieflings faced an incredible amount of discrimination— even from their own kind.

"Few tieflings were raised with the love a normal human child might expect to receive... Tieflings who had strikingly inhuman features were often killed at birth by their horrified parents or others. Only those tieflings with subtle features or born to someone indifferent to their appearance, either out of acceptance or cruel purpose, were likely to reach adulthood... Tieflings often distrusted one another, sometimes even casting the same preconceptions on one another that others did on them."

This post [alt] by @underdark-dreams highlights the discrimination tieflings face in game. And how the Flaming Fists should be called the Flaming Shits, but I'll get into that in another part of this series.

Understandably, they didn't easily trust others. But once someone did earn a tiefling's trust, they were an incredibly loyal friend.

"…[Tieflings] expected eventual rejection from all... However, members of other races would find that once they demonstrated friendship and trust towards a tiefling, it would quickly be reciprocated in full. Once that bond was forged, it was rarely broken."

While some tieflings wholeheartedly embraced the preconception that all tieflings were evil, others would endeavor to prove it wrong.

"Their attitude regarding their heritage... while some tieflings embraced it, others were repulsed by it... tieflings, who were proud of their fiendish past... chose to... thwart... dark plots and schemes. Others sought to... emulate these evil deeds. Other tieflings were ashamed or even frightened of their heritage and wished only to escape the shadow that lurked over them... Some did this through constantly doing good, as though to make up for the evil that begot them. Others instead hid [their heritage]…"

Looking like devils made people think they were devils, or acted like devils.

"Tieflings are widely stereotyped as wicked, cruel, and criminal individuals... [with] a tendency to be solitary loners... known for their quick temper, stubbornness, self-confidence, and fickleness in relationships."

And since people thought tieflings were, or would act like, devils they treated them like devils.

"The social rejection they typically face often leads tieflings to enter a life of crime, which furthers social prejudice against their race." 

"We're distrusted and viewed as evil malcontents for so long that we start to believe it ourselves. It's hard not to try to live up to the hype, eh?"— Enkillo the Sly, tiefling

It's not a stretch of the imagination to assume that people would believe that: the more devilish a tiefling looked = the more they'd behave like devils (evil). It's also safe assume: that the more infernal traits a tiefling had = the more, harsher, discrimination they'd face.

This leads into my next topic,

● (Section 3) Zevlor's Infernal Appearance:

He looks like a combo of Sylvester Stallone and Willem Dafoe.

He and his Habsburg jaw lookin ass face seems to always have a 5 o'clock shadow. (Probably because he's a refugee struggling to survive, so his personal grooming habits have taken a back seat.)

Zevlor has more infernal features than the other tieflings do in-game. (As shown in this post [alt] by @lolliputian and @haru-sen) He has very prominent cheekbones, a thick brow ridge, and BIG horns. (Look at @cinnasalmon's post [alt] on Zevlor's horn anatomy.)

HC: The reasons his face bones are so protuberant is because they need to support the weight of his huge horns, as without them his (face) skull would fracture/ cave in from the constant pressure. Poor guy probably lives with a perpetual headache.

Zevlor's prominent infernal facial features make him look older than he probably is— as they emphasize the traits we humans commonly associate with aging; such as defined nasal labial folds, a lack of facial fat, and big ears. The striations by his eyes look like wrinkles, but I think that they're mostly infernal markings.

Stress prematurely ages people, and Zevlor had multitudes of stressors throughout his life: Contending with the discrimination from being a tiefling with prominent infernal traits, joining an elite military unit at age 12, rising through its ranks to become a Commander of said unit, having his city dragged into the literal Hells (more on that in part 2), defending the civilians/ city trapped in the hells, surviving the hells, then being stripped of his rank and banished from his home because of racial prejudices, and then leading a group of (mostly civilian) refugees to Baldur's Gate— all while desperately trying to keep them alive in the face of Faerûn's many, many, dangers.

Combining all the factors above would make any man look 10+ years older than he actually is.

Zevlor looks scary. His irises look like they're on fire, and his teeth are scarier than Astarion's. I was browsing Tumblr alone in my room, at night, 😳 and this photo of Zevlor popped up on my feed giving me a good scare. I have an unhealthy obsession with Zevlor, he's made it onto my official husbando list! And yet, I can't look at certain screen shots of him at night because they scare me. I'm a wuss.

I simp hard for this man, and yet I am still frightened by his appearance sometimes. Imagine how people in Faerûn react when they see his sleep paralysis demon lookin ass him in person? Screaming and running away is completely understandable.

Which brings us to,

● (Section 4) How Discrimination Impacted a Young Zevlor:

Even as a young child Zevlor would've know that his appearance othered him.

"Most tieflings were aware from an early age that they were different from others around them..."

Even as a child Zevlor most likely knew that many people would dislike him and refuse to trust him because he was born a tiefling.

Tiefling families in the traditional sense are rare. Many tieflings, born to human parents who possess a latent infernal bloodline, are abandoned at birth and raised by a monastery, church, orphanage, or adoptive parents.

I headcanon that he had at least one loving parent—before he was orphaned, but it's entirely possible, and likely, that he was abandoned at birth.

Young Zevlor would've known that he would have to work very hard to be seen as something other than a criminal or evil monster.

"While some [tieflings] would... [turn] towards evil, others rejected it wholeheartedly and sought to make a good impact on the world around them, sometimes becoming the most heroic characters of all. Few could maintain this discipline however."

AN: Elturel was a theocracy (more on that part 2)— Zevlor likely grew up in a deeply religious family/ community.

All these factors combined would lead to a young Zevlor who:

Was determined to prove his goodness and rise above the adversity he faced. The force of will and work ethic he needed to become not just a Hellrider— but a Hellrider Commander, while being a tiefling, meant that he would've grown into a stubborn man. (See this post [alt] by @ohsayit)

Was so deeply religious and devoutly pious that he became a paladin. (More on this in part 2)

Internalized the impossible standards he was held to.

Developed a guilt complex (my "grew up Catholic" is showing)

Viewed any mistake he made as a personal moral failure, and as an indication of his inherent evil nature. (Hello again, Catholicism)

Would be hyperaware of how he's perceived by others.

Would learn how to read people's true intentions/ motivations.

Learned to vigilantly monitor, and strictly control his facial expressions and body language. (Is my autistic masking showing?)

Learned how to show deference to others through body language.

Leaned how to make himself appear smaller and less threatening.

Figured out how smile and laugh without showing his teeth.

Mastered the awkward and tight-lipped polite smile.

Figured out how to intelligibly speak with a tight jaw and lips so that his teeth wouldn't be seen by others while he spoke.

Developed self worth/ self esteem issues. Even other tieflings would've looked at him with suspicion and maybe even disgust.

That's it for part 1, here's another link to (Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladins oath. (Part 2.5)

and the other parts,

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion series (master list)

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter thirty three

close to home | chapter thirty three

plot: the reader and her group receive a gift from a friend, and shelter from the storm

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,474 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!!

To say you were feeling embarrassed about what happened between you and Daryl was an understatement. You felt like an idiot kissing him like that, and every time you thought about how desperate you were just to feel something, you wanted to curl up and die. And you hated that you couldn’t adequately explain to him that it was him you wanted that from. 

It was Daryl you were so scared to lose now, so desperate to be close to. You wanted to feel that connection with him. You didn’t care that he had at least a decade on you or that he didn’t know how to express his feelings in the way you could. But he had to feel something for you. He made it too obvious. 

But maybe it wasn’t any different than how he felt toward Carol. She seemed as close to him as you did, and you knew he talked to her about things. Who knew if they’ve kissed or fucked or whatever. But the way he kissed you. It was so deep and robust, and he held you so tightly that you feel cold without it, even in the blistering heat. And he was protective over you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. 

Maybe your judgment was cloudy. You didn’t know what to think, and he looked away every time you tried to look at him. And he had gone off the road to hunt a while ago, so it didn’t matter anyway.

“(Y/N).”

You looked up at Rosita, who had appeared next to you. Her face was sweaty, and looked just as exhausted as you probably did. You’ve been walking for hours, and it was only early afternoon. The run was still up. 

“Did you hear Rick? There’s a bridge up ahead; he wants to take out the herd.” She told you. 

You glanced back at the herd forming the past few miles and nodded. A bridge could do the trick. You followed Rick’s lead and stood with him, Glenn, and Michonne. The walkers approached slowly, and Rick’s plan was working--until it wasn’t. 

With Sasha going rouge, you all broke formation and jumped in to take down the herd. You followed Rick and Glenn, taking on walkers as they came. 

You were breathing heavily with each one down, and your lack of food and water didn’t help. You knew everyone was feeling the same, and you tried to keep an eye out for everyone else. 

You didn’t realize Daryl showed up, and soon the last walker fell from Michonne’s blade. After all that, you were struggling to breathe, and you wiped the sweat from your brow. 

“I told you to stop,” Michonne said to Sasha. You glanced over and waited for the two to go at it, but Sasha walked away. 

So that’s what you all did. Continued to walk. 

***

The group found many abandoned vehicles an hour later and a few more miles. Daryl glanced at you; you were shielding your eyes from the sun and holding your stomach. I’m so hungry. Your voice kept ringing in his head, eating away at his heart. His guilt and sorrow filled him. All he wanted to do was make sure you were okay. He felt like a failure for not being able to hunt anything. He couldn’t provide you with the one thing you so desperately needed. 

“I’m goin’ huntin',” Daryl said, “I’ll circle back,”

“May I come with you?” Carol asked. 

Daryl shook his head, “No. Just me.”

He left the group and headed into the woods. With it getting cloudy earlier, the woods were a bit cooler. Still, he was sweating as he walked. The Virginia heat was suffocating. 

As he walked, Daryl searched the ground for tracks, hoping to spot something. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t caught a damn thing--not a squirrel or anything. His frustration grew as he walked, and he knew he was only making it worse for himself. 

When he came across a half-eaten deer on the ground, hopelessness set it, and he decided to turn back. The group sat in some shade a mile up the road, and he caught up to them quickly. He spotted you immediately; you were sitting with Michonne, looking half dead, with the damn cat on your stomach.

He sat down on the opposite side of the group, ignoring your gaze. He couldn’t look at you without thinking about the kiss the two of you shared. It only saddened him. And he deeply regretted kissing you. Not because he didn’t want to, he’s wanted to since the prison. But because he knew it wasn’t him that you wanted to kiss. You were so hysterical; he knew you would’ve kissed anyone. If Rick had gone to you, he knew you would’ve done the same. And he didn’t blame you for your actions. He understood them too well. 

The group sat silently, with a few conversations here and there, but mainly in silence. You all heard it at once, and Daryl grabbed his crossbow. But the footsteps were too quick to be walkers. 

A group of dogs emerged from the woods, barking loudly with aggression. Daryl glanced at you. You were holding onto your machete, ready to jump up. But it didn’t matter; Sasha was quick with her gun, and the dogs died in thirty seconds. 

It didn’t take long for the group to prepare the unexpected meal. Daryl noticed you hanging back, holding Tora in your arms. He knew exactly what you were thinking. At what point would Tora become food. He knew you’d die before that happened. And he would too. 

Daryl grabbed the cooked meat that Carol offered him and walked it over to you. Without saying anything, he gave it to you and then walked away. 

***

For the first time, camping for the night wasn’t terrible. You had your watch rotation, and because you’d had a decent amount of food, you slept well. But that was hours ago and many miles between then and now. 

A bit of dried meat was rationed, but by mid-afternoon, it started to smell, and Rick made Carol toss it. It was like the food you had yesterday didn’t count. You were starving again and were even lower on water. 

You walked with tears in your eyes. You hadn’t spoken to Daryl since yesterday when you kissed him, despite trying to last night. You wanted desperately to tell him how you felt and that you were sorry about everything. By now, you got the message. He didn’t feel the same way for you. And everything you believed to be true yesterday was wrong. Maybe he did have a thing with Carol. Or with anyone. Or with no one. It didn’t matter. You needed to apologize and try to save whatever friendship you had left. 

So when you overheard Daryl telling Abraham he would go look for water, you decided you wanted to do it now. Because you didn’t know if you would make it to the end of the day. 

“I’m gonna go with you,” You said to Abraham. “We’ll circle back around.”

He nodded, and you went off toward where Daryl had gone. He had disappeared quickly, and you couldn’t see him when you scanned the treeline, but you picked up his trail quickly. If there was one pattern you could easily recognize, it was human. It was one of the first things Daryl taught you about tracking. 

You knew he was walking quickly, not yet running, though. So you followed the trail to a small clearing where it stopped. You sighed and looked around. He could’ve gone anywhere. You were about to turn back when you smelt cigarette smoke, and you looked around again for him. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

You finally spotted him sitting against a tree. You knew then that looking for water was a lie, and didn’t want to intrude on him. You knew how important his own time was. But when you saw his shoulders shake as he cried, you couldn’t help it. 

“Daryl,” You said as you approached him. 

“What are you doin’ ‘ere?” He asked angrily, wiping his eyes. 

You knelt down beside him and looked at his face. “I, I wanted to help you look.” You said. You glanced down at the burning cigarette on the ground and then at his hands, where you saw a fresh burn mark. You let out a soft sigh. 

“Just let me be,” He gruffed. “I didn’ ask you to come out ‘ere,”

“You didn’t have to,” You snapped back, grabbing his hand and looking at the burn. “This isn’t going to help anything, Daryl,” You said in a softer tone. 

He didn’t respond, and you could tell he was trying his best not to cry. 

“You can cry,” You said. “You can cry with me.”

He glanced at you, lips trembling as tears finally fell. Your face softened, and you moved, wrapping him in a hug. You pulled him so his head was against your shoulder, trying to give him the same comfort he gave you yesterday. 

You’ve seen Daryl cry before; you’ve seen everyone cry before. In this world, it was expected. But this time was different. It wasn’t because someone died or your home was destroyed. It was hopelessness, grief, and anger. All the things you felt yesterday. 

So you held him for the few minutes he needed, and then his tough guy persona came back and he quickly stood up. “We should head back,” was all he said. 

“Daryl, I…” Your voice trailed off as he started to walk away, and you knew it was pointless trying to talk to him anyway. 

You followed him back to the road, feeling like crying yourself. But all that left your mind when you arrived and saw water bottles and containers sitting in the middle of the ground, with your group surrounding it. 

Rick handed Daryl a paper, and you looked at it, your head brushing against Dary’s upper arm. From a Friend, the paper read. Both you and Daryl immediately grabbed your weapons. 

“What else are we going to do?” Tara asked. 

“Not this,” Rick replied. “We don’t know who left it.”

Everyone was on edge, and Daryl stepped in front of you with his crossbow. 

“If that’s a trap, we already happen to be in it. But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend.” Eugene said. 

“What if it isn’t?” Maggie asked. 

“They could’ve put something in it.” You said. 

Eugene grabbed a bottle while Rosita and Tara yelled at him. “Quality assurance,” He said. But Abraham knocked the water bottle out of his hand before he could take a sip. 

“We can’t,” Rick finally said. 

A loud clap of thunder sounded from above, and you all stopped to look up at the sky. It had been cloudy for most of the day, and when you felt a few drops of rain on your face, you breathed deeply in relief. 

It started coming down harder as you heard someone laugh, and you spread your arms out and slowly spun in a circle, letting the cold water hit you. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, collecting droplets that tasted like they were from heaven itself. 

Within thirty seconds, you were nearly soaked, and you laughed when you saw Rosita and Tara lying on the ground. Some part of you wanted to join them, but Rick started ushering people to collect the rainwater. You walked over to Carl and checked on Tora in his bag. She was displeased at the rain, but you knew she’d be happy to drink it later. 

As you set up bottles, Juidth started crying, and lightning cracked across the sky. Thunder boomed overhead, and you realized the storm was nearly above you. You were soaked to the bone, and the wind was picking up. You were actually cold. 

“We gotta keep moving!” Rick yelled over the storm. 

You grabbed Daryl’s arm, “The barn!” You yelled. 

Daryl turned to Rick to tell him about the place, and after everyone grabbed their things, you all started to race towards the barn. Thankfully it wasn’t a long walk, but the storm was even worse, and you could hardly see ten feet in front of you. 

Michonne linked your arm with hers, and you walked together. 

You were shaking when Rick led everyone into the barn. You’d clear it together to get out of the rain. There was only one walker, but you weren’t there to put it down. You and Michonne set up every bottle you had outside to collect the rainwater. 

It had gotten increasingly dark and you knew the storm was directly above you now. You could only hope and pray the barn would hold. 

***

Aside from the lightning, the barn was dark. The fire that Daryl and Glenn kept trying to keep was fruitless; the wood was too wet. You were still on the colder side and sat side by side with Michoone, leaning against each other. Carol and Rick were also with you, and everyone else had scattered to get some sleep. 

You wanted to check in on Maggie, but Glenn asked you not to. She needed time to process, and he didn’t think crowding her would help. You agreed with him on that; it never helped her. Even before.

You paid attention to the conversation, but your eyes were heavy, and you kept nodding to the side. You tried to fight sleep, but it was too strong and pulled you under. But you weren’t asleep for long. Michonne was shaking your shoulder in a way that had you panicking before you were awake. 

And when you saw the group pushing against the doors, struggling against them, you jumped up to join the fight. Your body slammed against the wall, and you looked to your right to see Daryl struggling. His face was desperate, and when he met your eyes, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He yelled something at you, but you couldn’t hear over the walkers, wind, and shaking doors. 

The muddy ground kept making you slide, but you fought like hell to stick your ground. You weren’t going down like this. You didn’t want to go down at all. You wanted to live. And now it was time to fight for it.

[baziutawrites]

Punishment

Sub!Xavier Thorpe x Female OC smut

WARNING! If you are under 18 yrs old, do not read this piece. I do not take responsibility for anything if you proceed.

Masterlist is pinned on my blog. Check it out, cuz I can't link it.

Apparently, I cannot write short stories, so hopefully y'all excuse the abomination of a wordcount.

English is not my first language, please keep that in mind. And I sincerely hope this one shows up in the tags or else istfg. 😤

Xavier Thorpe was positively whipped by now and even his artwork couldn't help him get her out of his system. Even though he tried to, in more ways than one, nothing seemed to clear his head of the images she unknowingly burned into his mind. And it frustrated him beyond words, how oblivious she was to his suffering.

She wondered how in the hell was he able to do anything in here with this god-awful lighting.

Val got up from a desk, discarding the book she tried to read. Xavier’s art shed - a “studio”, as he called it, huffing in annoyance every single time he had to correct anyone who called it differently - was not the best place for reading apparently. Duly noted. 

Xavier stepped back from the easel for like a hundredth time in the past half an hour, running his hand through his hair. He huffed in exasperation, glaring at the canvas he was working on like it had just insulted him. He glanced at her, noticed she was looking quizzically at him and quickly averted his eyes, almost as if avoiding her gaze.

“Can’t focus,” he mumbled. His eyes were now trained onto the mess of lines and colour splattered in an unspecified formation. 

“Huh. Very, ah… abstract, I see.” Val hummed, standing next to him, unintentionally brushing his side with her arm and he hissed quietly, recoiling.

What in the heavens name was up with him today? She raised her eyebrows but shrugged it off, deciding not to say anything. Artist block must be like PMS or something, she figured. So instead, she took on exploring the rest of the space, leaving him to grumble under his breath behind her back.

There was a lot of artwork on every possible surface - some finished, some barely sketched out. Loads of tools and different mediums were scattered everywhere, mixed with empty cups, brushes and loose pieces of paper in between. There also was something on a table in the far corner of the studio that caught her eye. It didn’t look quite right - as if hastily discarded and half-heartedly covered with a piece of cloth. And, oh boy, it spiked her interest.

It turned out to be a sketchbook. She brought it closer to the light and froze, when her own face stared back at her from the paper. But this wasn’t the shocking part - her naked body, perfectly recreated in the act of riding a dick from the perspective of a person underneath her - that was. A pair of large hands were gripping her hips, digging their fingers into her flesh desperately. Xavier’s hands.

She leafed through the rest of the pages, finding loads of different sexual acts depicted with her at the forefront, with an occasional study of her face. She grinned to herself, quite flattered and embarrassed at how much she must have affected him to draw her that many times in a separate, dedicated sketchbook. Given his abilities, he definitely didn't use this solely as a study of human anatomy.

“Hey,” she called to him, smiling mischievously at him when she got his attention, “private porn collection?” She held the book higher so he could see it. Even in the dim lighting she saw his eyes growing wide. A deep shade of red flushed his face - she had never seen him so flustered and embarrassed before. He started towards her, yanked the sketchbook from her hands and shoved it angrily under some unfinished sketches.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She stepped back, crossing her arms.

He kept running his fingers through his hair, agitated. And then he snapped.

“You, Val. YOU. You are messing with my fucking head. Can’t you fucking see that?” He grabbed the canvas he was just working on and shook it in her face. “I can’t focus on shit, I haven’t been able to paint a single thing for god damn weeks. I haven’t been able to get you out of my fucking head for fucking weeks!”

He threw it onto the floor in anger, where it laid, wet paint gleaming in the dim light. He sat down on a stool and hid his face in his hands, steadying his breath.

“I can not stop thinking about you.” His voice now soft, quiet. He rubbed his temples, clearly very frustrated. “I dream about you more than I’d like to admit, in the ways I’m too embarrassed to say out loud.”

“It’s just… I want you so fucking bad all the fucking time, Valerye.”

Valerye remained silent. This was not what she expected to hear. A lecture on personal space or not snooping around in other people’s personal belongings, maybe. But this? Of course she noticed how needy he was when they fucked… and when they didn’t. Yet, it never crossed her mind that she had this much control over him.

Xavier Thorpe was officially smitten. And it excited her.

Step by step, she slowly advanced towards him, a slight smirk curving her lips. She could see his darting eyes and sheepish expression. This was good. Very, very good.

“Tell me, Xavi.” She stopped in front of him and lifted his chin with one of her fingers, forcing him to look her up in the eye. “How exactly is this supposed to be my problem? Or… my fault?”

His breath hitched as he inhaled sharply, eyes widened. She was calm and methodical, but he could make out an underlying tone lacing her voice. A warning to be careful, not to play with fire. This made his head spin, he gripped the edges of the seat for comfort. There also was a lingering promise of danger, a sweet risk of getting burned if he leaned into the flames too much. He swallowed, his knuckles cracking, trying not to let his mind be overcome by the dizziness he constantly felt near her. Shifting on his seat slightly, embarrassed of the fact he was getting hard so soon, he tried to hide his growing erection by pulling his shirt down.

“It’s not–”

“No?” She interrupted in a sickeningly sweet voice. And then there was her knee in between his legs, pressing against his crotch. He froze and squeaked, heat spreading through his body at the sudden contact. “Are you sure about that? Because that’s not what you’ve just screamed at me, baby.”

Xavier’s breath quickened, grasping at the fleeting self-control, desperate not to give in and rub himself on her knee. She definitely could feel his growing erection and his face turned even redder.

“I don’t think you were nice to me.” Her face was inches from his, studying his expression, her hot breath mixing with his. His plump lips parted slightly, a dazed look in his eyes, that were trained on her mouth. The way she was smiling made his head spin.

He threw caution to the wind and lunged for a kiss - but instead of her sweet taste, he felt a sharp sting on his cheek as she slapped him across his face and his head got yanked to the side by his hair. He blanked out for a second but was swiftly brought back to his senses when Val’s knee pressed harder against his now rock hard bulge.

“I think you are a very bad boy, Xavi.”

“Oh god,” he whimpered weakly, earning a dark chuckle from her that tickled his strained, exposed neck. More pathetic sounds escaped his throat as she placed surprisingly delicate, wet kisses along the line of his ear, not letting go of his hair. He didn’t think he could get even more turned on, yet somehow she managed to push him further with ease.

He felt his seat being rolled backwards and his back hit the hard, cold wall, trapping him in front of his girlfriend.

“And do you know what happens to bad boys? They get punished.”

She bit his neck suddenly, hard and he couldn’t help himself any more. A twinge of shame shot through his chest at how little it took her to make him a desperate, whining mess. His hips rutted against her knee, the pain mixing with pleasure in an intoxicating way. His moans filled the cool air inside the art studio, clashing with his flushed, sweaty skin, making Val feel the wetness seep through her underwear. 

Almost as if he sensed it, his hands flew towards her waist, pulling her onto his lap, digging his fingers into her flesh in a needy way. She moaned despite herself at the sudden contact of his hard, heaving chest flush against her, his hot, wet lips crashing with hers. Oh, he felt so, so good, so right.

But Valerye could not be having it. He had to be punished. She slapped him again and gripped his face forcefully. She watched him in bemused disbelief as his eyes rolled back momentarily with a pained but lustful groan bubbling in his throat. This fucker was enjoying it just as much as she did. 

“You are positively filthy, Xavi.”

He smiled at her stupidly, which made a coil in her stomach grow tighter. She quickly grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head, trapping his arms behind him in the tangle of fabric. Now, with one distraction out of the way, she could go on with the plan that has just formed inside her head.

“And I think we have to do something about that.” She smirked, pulling his sweatpants down his long, lanky legs and chuckled at how eager he was to help, lifting his hips up to make it easier for her to undress him.

“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, “yes, please.”

Xavier shuddered under her fingers caressing his chest, bumping the back of his head on the hard wall as he relished in the sensation - but whipped back it almost instantly when she stopped at his nipples and pinched them. Hard. 

Again, and again, she toyed with them, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she watched him squirm and strain against the fabric of his own shirt restraining him. She straddled his lap, leaned forward, and latched her mouth onto one of his hardened nipples. She could feel the heat emanating from his massive bulge as he bucked his hips, desperately trying to find any friction to comfort his throbbing cock. His moans got louder, raspier, needier, the longer she sucked and licked them, leaving sloppy trails of saliva on his burning skin. And just as he started to quiver, she stopped.

His face scrunched in frustration at the sudden loss of contact, only to fill with hope as his underpants got pulled down to join the pants somewhere around his ankles. Poor thing, she thought to herself, slowly taking off her skirt and underwear, watching his eyes grow wide when she came back onto his lap. His dick was rock hard by now, twitching just mere millimeters from her wet pussy. He could feel the heat just out of his reach and whimpered, lifting his hips in a desperate attempt to at least brush his tip against her - to no avail. She grabbed him by his throat, pushing him back against the wall, making his breath wheezy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, smiling at his dazed expression and she slithered her fingers into his disheveled locks. “You’re not being a very good boy. Think you’ll just… watch me.”

She pulled at his hair and grazed at his long neck, earning another strained moan from him. His eyes rolled back at the sensation of her teeth almost breaking his skin, following with a soothing lick over the pulsating mark she left. And when she moaned his name into his ear, his eyes snapped back to her, his pulse quickening, as he realized what she meant by ‘watching her’. His breathing almost stopped when his eyes laid on her palm, working her own wet clit almost on top of his swollen cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” a strangled string of words poured out of his mouth. His dick twitched again, involuntarily and tapped her hand and before he knew it, his face was stinging again, a red splotch forming on his cheek and tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Valerie almost felt sorry for him for a moment, until he pleaded.

“Do it again,” his eyes glossy with pupils blown out, burned into hers with a sudden despair. “Please, I’ve been bad.”

Xavier’s needy, faltering voice made her jolt with sudden pleasure and a new wave of wetness seeped out of her as she picked up the pace on rubbing herself. It didn’t go unnoticed, as his dick, now leaking, twitched once again, just as another slap graced his other side of his face. To his surprise, he felt drops of wet, thick liquid on his shaft and when he looked down at Val once again, his brain went hazy. He felt as if he could explode right here, right now.

“See what you’ve done?” She moaned, feeling her juices seep through her fingers in long, sticky strings, landing on his erect cock beneath her. With her mouth agape, getting lost in the pleasure, she locked eyes with him - and the pure lust she saw in them sent her over the edge in seconds. 

“Xavier–”

He held his breath the entire time she writhed and moaned his name throatily over him. He desperately tried to ingrain the image in his mind in every single detail, every movement and every sound she made. Only when she removed her fingers from her clit, he saw how much they were drenched in her thick, glistening juices. Without a second thought, he leaned forward and clamped his mouth around them and sucked hungrily, lapping and slurping her palm clean. He looked like he had never tasted anything more delicious in his entire life.

Valerye’s face flushed with heat, as she felt fuzzy at his devoted action. He earned some ‘relief’. But only a tiny bit.

“Good boy,” she cooed and she could see his mind going places. She pulled her hand away - now coated with his saliva - and hovered it over his swollen dick. “I think you’ve earned a little bit of a reward.”

And with that, she slowly dragged her slippery fingers from his balls up, coating him evenly with her juices, ending at his pulsating, purple tip and enveloped it into her hand. With a steady grip, she started pumping. 

Xavier forgot how to breathe. He felt like his brain went through a system restart and then, finally, a flood of long awaited pleasure crashed over him, taking over his senses. He spasmed and started trembling, a long, guttural moan followed by a slur of garbled ‘thank you’s fell from his mouth. He was bucking his hips in a frenzy, desperate to reach his release that was inching closer with every pump of Val’s slick hand. His jaw slacked, eyes crossed and rolling back under half-closed eyelids, he looked mad, completely out of control. He was so close, so fucking close–

And then she stopped. And did it all over again, and again, and again.

He never felt so desperate, so angry and so horny in his lifetime. His cock hurt at this point, his balls were on fire and his eyes welled up with tears but he didn’t want her to stop. When she let go of him once again, just as he was about to cross the point of no return, he cried out in agony.

“Fuck, no, please, no no no, don’t!” He wailed and whined in a high-pitched, cracking voice, pumping the air desperately, feeling the release painfully getting away from him.

“What's wrong, baby, you’ve had enough?” She teased, not doing a very good job at concealing her own trembling voice. The way he acted in such a frenzied despair made her want to rut herself on his thigh, face or cock - anywhere at this point. But she had one more thing in mind, before she would let him get what he craved so badly.

“Yes! No, please, don’t–”

His incredibly throbbing dick was in her grasp again, she was pumping him so fast he almost could not take this torture anymore. He was so over, and yet understimulated at the same time. He was making sounds that didn’t sound human no more, as he felt getting closer and closer to the dreaded edge, afraid that he might get denied the pleasure once fucking again. But then he felt himself being pushed past it, and she didn’t stop. His back arched, he lifted his hips up from the seat, head thrown back, howling in anguished pleasure, as he waited for this sweet, final release. And it came, seconds after she completely let go of him once again.

“Nonononono, please!”

Dull spasms tore through his body, as his cock twitched, coating his chest and stomach with impossible amounts of his seed. It didn’t bring any relief at all. Tears rolled down his face, as he sobbed from frustration and betrayal - she ruined him. He felt humiliated, degraded and completely corrupted. However, when she cradled his face, he leaned into her touch so desperately it made her heart flutter.

"You've been such a good boy, Xavi. So good." She caressed his splotched, stinging cheeks, wiping away the tears. He looked at her with those big green eyes, filled with so much need and torment - and such animalistic lust, she couldn't help herself but kiss him. He feverishly reciprocated, still sniffling.

"Will you be a good boy if I untie you?"

He noded frantically, babbling promises of his good behaviour. And he didn't lie - he awaited her next orders obediently after he no longer had his limbs constrained. He didn't even touch himself briefly. He was completely under her spell.

She ordered him to lay down on the floor, right on the discarded canvas and he didn't even bat an eye when his back came in contact with the still wet paint. He would do anything for her at this point. And just as he put his hands over his head by himself as a precaution, not to touch her without permission, she couldn't wait any longer. She climbed onto him, straddling him and aligned herself with his hard, hot cock, earning a whimper from him. He craved her heat, her wetness so bad.

"Val, please," he croaked. "Can I touch you? Please, I'll be good I promise."

She agreed. His large, trembling palms found their way onto her hips and grasped them as if his life depended on it. They followed her movements, as she slowly but surely lowered herself onto his dick. She felt him stretch her beyond imagination as she reached the base of it, her thirsty pussy relishing in the sensation of his hot, almost boiling skin. He moaned in the pleasure he awaited for so long. She was so wet again, so incredibly tight around him. He was starved for her.

As if she could read his thoughts, she moved up and down, setting a fast, delicious pace that made his mind go haywire. He threw his head back, eyes shut tight and brows furrowed. Gravelly, needy moans were falling from his mouth. The sound of wet lewd noises filled the shed as he began to lift his hips to meet hers quicker. He was numbed from the ruined orgasm but still desperately wanted to feel every single inch of her pussy, up to the very hilt of his cock.

She tangled her fingers in his silky hair and pulled, making him crane his neck backwards, his adam's apple portruding through his skin. He groaned, barely registering what was happening he was so focused on slamming his cock in and out of her and she didn't blame him. Moaning like mad, she latched herself onto his neck and bit him, over and over, leaving marks on him so everyone would know, who he belonged to. The pain, mixed with the gradually overwhelming pleasure was fucking with his head. He brought her down on his dick with so much force, moving his hips up at the same moment, she yelped when she saw sparks before her eyes. It seemed like he wanted to bury himself even deeper inside of her seeping cunt, even if it wasn't possible.

"You are such a good boy, you know that?" She whispered breathlessly to his ear and she felt his hips stutter, as a pained whine erupted from his chest. "Say you're a good boy, Xavier."

"I-ah–" His cheeks flushed red with embarrassement. "I am a g-good boy. I am, I really am," he whimpered, feeling himself inch painfully slow to the edge.

"I know, baby." His cock was getting even thicker, sending electrifying jolts through Val's body. "Cuz you're gonna make me cum. You're making me cum, Xavi."

His relentless, deep thrusts faltered and lost it's rythm as he felt, once again, as if his mind disconnected from his body, and a rumbling growl reverberated in his chest. He blabbered nonsense at this point, tears stinging his eyes as the frustration surfaced yet again. He was so turned on but nowhere near close to release it seemed. And now, she ground herself on top of him info her own high, smearing the cum from his ruined orgasm on herself as she rode him, chest flush against his, expertly rubbing her wet clit on his cut pubic hair, with his rock hard dick plunged deep inside of her. In other circumstances, just a mere thought of something of this kind would send him cumming all over himself - but now, it was not enough.

Xavier whimpered in despair, feeling her skin getting hotter to the touch with every roll of her hips, her walls clenching tight around his painfully swollen dick. He brought her into him and his lips collided with hers, swallowing her moans in a messy, open mouthed kisses.

"Such a good boy." She moaned breathily, her words immediately drank by him as he panted like a madman. "Make me cum all over your fat cock, Xavi."

He could finally feel his own, blinding pleasure rising up to the surface. His fingers dug into her hips, as he steadied her and and absolutely pounded her like an animal in heat, howling like one too. With every thrust, his abdomen glided over her aching clit.

"Let me cum too, V, please," he was getting closer and closer along with her. His voice needy, pitiful, face stained with fresh tears. "Can I cum?"

"N-no, not y--" Her voice drowned in her satisfied whining, as she clenched on Xavier's cock, her orgasm washing over her in repeated, delicious waves of heat. She kept moving and it drove him crazy, as he now had to force himself not to fall apart inside her fluttering hole as she still rode out her highs.

"Baby, please, I can't take it anymore, please let me cum, I'm begging you, I've been good, I've been good, please let me cu--" He wailed so desperately, tears in his eyes obscuring his vision.

It happened in seconds. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking at it and lunging at his bruised neck.

"Cum," she commanded, as she bit him, still riding him through her aftershocks. This only solidified his fate, as the hair pulling has already pushed him past his limits. His breathing stopped, as he stared at at her with a pained expression and then completely exploded inside of her.

Unholy, guttural wails tore from Xavier's throat, his vision becoming blinded by what seemed to be fireworks under his eyelids. He convulsed, his torso lost contact with the canvas he was laying on for a second, then arched backwards stiffly, before he absolutely lost his god damn mind. His hips bucked so hard he lifted Valerye up several times, impailing her onto his dick so deep she thought he was going to tear her in half. He shot load after load inside her, filling her up to the brim, his hands bruising her hips as he pushed her down onto himself so hard his seed started to leak out, coating the base of his dick and her pussy in white.

He felt like he was on cloud nine, despite the dull pulsating pain he still felt in his loins. Both dazed, barely conscious, basked in each other's warmth and comfort, tired as if they had just ran the marathon twice. Xavier nuzzled into his girlfriend's neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, that was still intoxicating to him. His long hair stuck to his sweaty forhead and eyes but he couldn't bother to let V out of his arms to brush it away. He traced slow, delicate patterns on her back and chuckled when he heard her content sigh. He was lazily staring at her from underneath his heavy eyelids, studying her face in every single detail, almost as if he would never get to see her again. A smile lingered around his lips as she shifted on his chest, leaning into his embrace.

Xavier Thorpe was officially, completely whipped and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[attex]

You think fp and lttm have some self soothing behaviors?

i have been regularly thinking of answetring this ask (it was sent 3 months ago.) but i kept fucking forgetting. i think they do tbh but theyre akin to how they move around their puppets by default, yknow how some people move their hands when talking its like that for their Thinking in a way. it can be like when someones mumbling/talking to themselves cuz theyre really lost in thought or something. (insert joke about italians here) this applies to every iterator with a functional connected puppet...

this is just advanced headcanoning btw, read more cuz its kinda long and not formatted well

for the cringe siblings though i headcanon five pebbles would be touching his robe fabric a lot (especially post-rivulet where hes more concentrated on his own puppet and tries to use it more to ground himself to his own body), he does that out of stress usually as another little external representation of his emotions- i imagine a lot of the structure straight up moves and has a lot of its parts basically shifting and wiggling around, its more involuntary but i think pebbles moves and bundles up his cables that are normally used for local data transferring. he doesn't have much to reorganize within him internally a lot of the time (anymore...) so he basically moves his devices for it for the sake of the sensation of having/doing some sort of action

i think moon sometimes gently rocks her puppet back and forth when under-stimulated. though she usually lands back to staying very still (she does this before her collapse too anyway, she meditates in a way have you seen how she moves her puppet to the middle of her chamber and closes her eyes and has her halo move gently etc. AHHHHH its so cuteeee) also i draw her with hair like wires so um :) she braids them sometimes or caresses them. shes much more disconnected from her entire body so its Something to do at least. she will hold and look at the pearls or other items that creatures end up bringing to her also <3 post-rivulet she gets a lot to do with her structure. she very often rumbles parts of her to hum sounds and such, she does this with her puppet too but its more akin to humming a melody for the puppet lol. while every iterator can has a near-constant background hum and noise caused by many things, moon explicitly alters her internal humming to match external things she is experiencing- (unlike other iterators who don't usually have their internal "rhythm" match their external environment as well) i believe she developed this habit to be more in tune with her environmental location as it helped with not causing as much harmful interference to all that is around her (she has an older, not as performant/optimized can so she needed to adjust to function better), its beneficial for her workings too lol! her organic parts do need to be in tune with the life surrounding her to be able to keep stable.

[hms-tardimpala]

Ficbinding: A Poison Tree by @mildredmost

A year and a half ago (ish), I was getting started in bookbinding and one of my first projects was A Poison Tree, a Poldark fic I loved. I was proud of it at the time, but I've learned a lot since then and thought it was time to have another go at it. (long post ahead)

The fic: Poldark, Ross Poldark/George Warleggan, E, 50.6k

What happened between Ross and George at school that began their life-long feud?

The reason I like this fic so much is that it surprised me. I was looking for Ross/George fics and this is one, but not only. George's character is so well-explored here that you can't help but be on his side (while understanding why the things he does offend Ross) and wish him to be happy. I'm not usually into OCs, but the one in this story is so good I loved him as much as the other characters. I went in expecting something specific, the author went another way midway through, and I loved it. The atmosphere is perfect too, it's faithful to the time period and the show/books.

The bind: I kept some ideas from the original bind, such as the color of the cover, headbands and bookmark, and the paper type, but I improved the general quality and added details. I used blue and green because they're the Warleggans' heraldy's colors in the books. The endpaper is a florentine design with golden touches, the kind of luxurious-looking stuff a 1780s nouveau riche would love. I added the Blake poem the story takes its title from at the beginning because it's one of my favorite poems ever.

New things I tried:

This is the first time I combine several elements for a cover. The green strips scared me because MATHS but they turned out good in the end. I'm still not interested in putting titles on my binds, but I think I'll keep exploring decorations of that kind.

Real endpapers. Up until now, I used paper that wasn't made for bookbinding because the thinness of true endpapers scared me, but it holds up perfectly. The book still feels strudy. And look at it, it's so FANCY.

Free vector images to make decorations. There's a wealth of free resources out there!

Huge positives:

I printed, folded, sewed, glued and trimmed this a first time, but wasn't satisfied with the cut. If you've read more than one of these posts, you know I'm desperately wrangling my guillotine into compliance. The second time, I trimmed the texblock before sewing and gluing, which is scary because the signatures are LOOSE, but it worked perfectly. The result is so fucking neat. I was ready to sandpaper the edges but didn't have to.

Look at this snuggy fat boy. This is the thickest book I've made at the A6 format, and it sits very nicely in the hand. The spine is round, the leather is smooth, and it's still very light. A pretty baby.

Details:

The typesetting: I tried many fonts (what's new) before I landed on the right one. It had to have serifs to fit with the period context. I already mentioned the decorations (I looked up georgian-period books to get inspired and discovered they weren't all that decorated, so I made those up). The drop caps are very nice.

The tree: I decided to get the most out of my printer and, after fiddling with the settings a little, got it to print in color with magnificent quality (which you can't see because of the cold light. It's cloudy today, I'm sorry).

Negatives:

The cover boards should have been wider. The pages are very close to sticking out from the edge of the cover. They're not, but it's a tight fit. I think that from now on, I'll use a 5mm "overhang" (is that the word?) instead of a 3mm one like I've learned. I like my spines too round, 3mm are not enough to compensate.

That's it this time. I don't want to brag, but I'm getting good at this (it's been a year and a half jesus).

Characteristics: Fonts: Castellar (title), Colonna MT (author name), Bell MT (text), Apex Lake (drop caps) Materials: blue and green apple leather and endpapers from Schmedt, 80g/m² Clairefontaine ivory paper, pre-made headband and synthetic ribbon.

Feel free to ask me more about materialsand fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I’m too lazy rn to write it in this post that’s long enough already.

--

Comparison (because why not):

[nerdylilpeebee]

Really should be ignoring this, but- @beesproperty1

Israel engaged in a ceasefire with Hamas (one Hamas kept attacking them through, I might add) in order to exchange hostages and there was a new deal on the table to extend the ceasefire, possibly permanently, so long as Hamas kept giving hostages back. I haven't looked into the state of that deal, but this kinda disproves "they aren't stopping and have no plan to."

And they aren't displacing anyone. Warning people to evacuate areas they are going to attack because terrorists who attacked their country in the worst terror attack since 9/11 are stationed there, hiding behind civilian loan buildings is not "displacing" the populace. The manipulation y'all engage in is RIDICULOUS.

Ah yes, Gaza, the country that has been (at least supposedly) posting videos of the conflict the entire time it's happened has no cell service and is just entirely rubble now. Please ignore all the videos pro-palestine people spread that they claim come from inside Gaza and please ignore that the vast majority of Gazans are still alive (they wouldn't be if the entire country was rubble).

Also, here's a hostage testifying to the fact Hamas forced her to lie, not once but twice. As well as all the shit suffered, including the sub-par healthcare and torment at the hands of her captor's children (I didn't provide this before because I was in a comment section).

And you're damn fucking right I don't trust Gazan sources. XD Why would I trust sources that would be killed if they didn't say what Hamas wanted??? Literally the only truthful thing they ever reported was the old Palestinian woman saying Hamas steals their supplies.

No, they are not actually killing one person each. XD If you look at how many bombs were used versus how many people Hamas CLAIMS died, they killed, at most, .5 people per bomb. Odd for someone intending to "devastate the area," but okay hun.

And no, Hamas formed from the Muslim Brotherhood. Their formation had nothing to do with Israel. And frankly, it wouldn't matter if it did, killing innocent people is not justified because you say "oh, but we're oppressed." And it's really fucking telling that you think it does. Something tells me the other person in the notes there calling me a psycho should instead be calling you that.

They don't kidnap anyone. Most of the "kids" Israel imprisons are between 15 and 18 and most often than not they are arrested for violent crimes. Being a "kid" does not mean you get to stab your neighbor.

"Despite the fact Israel pulled out of Gaza 20 years ago, Israel occupies Gaza so it's not a country, just an occupied territory."

Cool. They still elected Hamas. They still consider themselves a separate country and so does a good portion of the world. They are still committing war crimes (which none of y'all care about) and quite frankly Israel did a damn good job "maintaining" this "occupied territory." Literally over 500 trucks daily before this war, they provided water, food, AND Gaza got billions in foreign aid. Hamas stole the food and the money and destroyed water infrastructure (something y'all also don't care about).

Except it was not actually blockaded. People called it a blockade, but that wasn't the reality. XD People spreading misinformation for decades does not make that misinformation true.

And it's funny you accuse me of being ignorant but clearly do not know anything beyond what Hamas has spoonfed you.

Actually the IDF did not kill Israeli's on the ground on October 7th, that is a blatant lie I've never seen y'all even TRY to back up.

And yeah, Israel also publicly declared the mistake and punished the people responsible. The individual soldiers disobeying their orders is not some evil act by the entirety of Israel.

And again, very funny you call me dumb when you trust the literal terrorist group to tell you the truth.

@row666 Wow, you really tried with that didn't you? XD Hun, sweetie pie, sugar-lump, please use that useless lump of gray matter between your ears. I was literally listing the massive fucking differences between the NAZIS STARTING THE HOLOCAUST and Israel retaliating to terrorists who have attacked them for decades. There is a really big fucking difference between these two events and the absolute AUDACITY y'all have to have to call me stupid and a psycho while you try to equate the Jews to the fucking Nazis for daring to defend themselves from terrorists trying to kill them all is insane.

[hahaifolded]

The Siren, the Cook, and the Sister (17)

Sanji x PirateHunter!Fem Reader (Masterlist) Chapter 17: The Shipment (Previous) (Next) Summary: You and the Strawhats save your sister. Warnings: In-World Typical Violence

Franky was truly the greatest shipwright of his time. You had never been on a ship that sailed so fast and efficiently as the Thousand Sunny. It bounced across the water with ease, quickly catching up to the sailing Marine armada. 

By the time you and the Strawhats reached the main dock to stop the shipment, it was too late. It had already set sail. But thankfully that was no issue for the Sunny. 

The Strawhats ran across the deck as they prepared for battle. From what the Marine admitted, your sister wasn't the only person being shipped tonight. Various prisoners were being moved from the local prison to Impel Down. So instead of a small Marine battalion, you and the Strawhats expected a sizable armada. 

As you put on your mask, Sanji slid to your side. "You ready?" he asked. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. You looked in his eyes and nodded. Always. 

"I think I see them," yelled Brook from up above. You looked towards where his finger pointed. From the distance, you could see the faint outline of ships... many ships. 

"Fuck, that's a lot," whined Usopp. He tried to run inside, but Zoro grabbed him from the straps of his overalls. All of the Strawhats looked ahead. Despite the large size of their opponent, the pirates stood tall. They were determined to save your sister. 

"Franky! Full steam ahead," announced Nami. It's now or never. 

— — —

Despite being in various battles since he joined the crew, Sanji's heart was racing. For some reason, he was nervous. What if something happens to her? He looked at you and noted how eerily quiet you were. He didn't doubt your strength, but he knows what love can make someone do. But he held his doubt within, because right now, you just needed support.

And to his dismay, you left his side and joined Luffy on top of the Sunny's figurehead. You spoke to Luffy, out of Sanji's earshot. He felt somewhat stiffed. How come you're talking to Luffy, but not me? We almost... He burrowed his jealousy as Luffy shot you a smile. It couldn't be anything serious if Luffy was smiling. Right?

— — —

“Monkey D. Luffy and Strawhat pirates, by order of the World Government, we have orders to arrest you on sight,” announced one of the Marine ships. The Sunny stopped as soon as the Marines caught sight of the ship. However, before the Marines could prepare for battle, your voice boomed out in the air.

“It’s me, the Siren,” you dropped the bottom half of your mask and maxed out your voice for everyone to hear, “I seized the Strawhat’s pirates ship and have arrested them by orders of the Marines.” You waved behind you, showing off the 9 Strawhat pirates. Each one sat on the deck with their hands tied behind them. “And don’t worry, I put sea stone handcuffs on the Devil Fruit users,” you added. 

The Marines kept quiet. What are they waiting for? It was daunting to stand before 30 Marine ships. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but today, you were no longer an ally to them, but an enemy. But hey, they started it first.

“Bring the ship forward,” responded the speaker. Finally. The Marine formation opened up, allowing you to bring the ship to the middle of it, right in front of the head ship. Just like we planned. 

You were confident that your sister was being held in the main ship along with the other prisoners. Now under the false pretenses you built, you and the Strawhats were going to be loaded on to the main ship, giving you all a chance to break out your sister. 

Slowly, a group of Marines boarded the Thousand Sunny to grab the handcuffed prisoners. A Marine stood behind each Strawhat who were all capable of breaking out of their restraints. Everything was going to plan. They’ll take the prisoners and allow you to board like always. 

You moved behind the Marines, stopping until you reached Jimbei. “Hey, if you want, I’ll take the big guy. He bites,” you said, patting the Marine that was trembling in front of the fishman. Jimbei grumbled, but said nothing as you hoisted him up to his feet. Every Strawhat was hoisted up and pushed towards the main ship. They all remained silent despite the Marine’s taunts. 

As the Marines, the Strawhats, and you marched within the ship to the holding cells, excitement filled the air. The Marines were starting to celebrating. The infamous Strawhat pirates are finally in custody all thanks to their loyal lap dog pirate hunter, the Siren.

“Congratulations on the big catch!” 

“I knew you were strong, but you really outdid yourself!” 

“Big payoff, right?” 

Congratulatory remarks filled the air as the Marines thanked you for your service. You kept your head down. Your face may be covered but, you knew that if you saw any of their vile smiles, you’d probably snap. 

How dare they? Celebrate me as if this isn’t what they wanted all along. As if I had any real choice here…

Eventually, you all made to the bottom level where the prisoners are held. Various cells started to holler and hoot at the Strawhats, some out of shock while others celebrated their imprisonment. You scanned the area to see if there were any signs of your sister. Dammit. I don’t think she’s down here.

“Alright then, I’ll you leave you to it,” you announced. You tapped in one of the Marines to take Jimbei. “This pirate hunter has a bounty to pick up,” you quipped. You left them and made your way up the ship. They’ll be too busy locking them up that they won’t notice me snooping around, you reasoned. In their point of view, everything was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Before you could really distance yourself from them, a familiar voice rang through the speakers. 

“Grab the Siren!” Suddenly, a group of Marines appeared behind you and swarmed you. You immediately popped the bottom half of your mask and screamed, pushing them back. You pulled out your swords and stood your ground. More Marines appeared from your other side, completely surrounding you. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” you growled. 

Laughing filled the space. Why does it sound so familiar? 

“Siren,” the voice sneered, “did you really think you could trick a Vice Admiral?” Vice Admiral? No way!

“Doberman?” But that’s impossible, I sank his ship.

“VICE ADMIRAL DOBERMAN… ah! It doesn’t matter, I’m coming down there… wait!” it announced over the PA system. The Marines surrounding you took a step forward but you stood your ground. You weren’t going to go down without a fight. 

A door opened revealing a familiar red coat. You couldn’t believe it. It really was him. 

“Surprised, Siren?” he sneered. He joined the Marines that were surrounding you. Standing in front of you, he continued, “I know what you are Siren… a traitor. And imagine after everything we’ve done for you.”

“DONE FOR ME?” You couldn’t contain your anger any longer. “You fucking lied to me. You, the Marines, everyone. You made me think the Marines were helping my sister get better when you were only keeping her sick.”

“Oh, don’t play the victim. What if we did? We gave you a purpose in life. Made you strong, a real weapon of justice?”

“JUSTICE? For who? Tell me, it is just to rip a family apart just because the Marine can’t do their job and have to force someone else to do it?” 

“It is when that family wasn’t even a real family in the first place,” he spat back. How dare he? You lunged forward to attack. However, you were so caught up in your anger, that you failed to see that Doberman ordered his men to shoot at you with a device you didn’t recognize. 

A pair of sea stone handcuffs flew out of it and wrapped around your wrists. You fell to the ground, too weak to move. NO! 

Doberman walked over you and sneered, “awe, poor Siren, so close, but so far.” He grabbed you from the back of your head and pulled off your mask. “One floor up and you would have found your beloved sister, but oh well!” He cackled. He looked down at you and expected to see devastation all over your face, but instead, found you grinning. 

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Before he could react, the door leading to the prisoner cells blew open. Smoke and screams escaped from it. 

“What’s going on?” Doberman moved back, pushing his fellow Marines towards the door. A long hand appeared, pulling a few Marines into the chaos. The screaming continued for a few more seconds before it went dead. 

Everyone waited with bated breath. Then, in an instance, Sanji, Luffy, and Robin appeared in the doorway. 

“Mil Fleur!” Arms sprung out of the Marines and Doberman, swiftly knocking them out. Sanji ran towards you and noticed the sea stone cuffs. He checked Doberman’s body and found the keys. 

Unlocking them, Sanji picked you up and pulled you into a hug. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay,” you answered. You savored the moment for a bit before pulling away. “It seems like my sister is a level above. Sanji and I will grab her while you guys handle the rest.”

Robin and Luffy nodded. You grabbed Sanji’s hand and ran off. 

— — —

“You would think they would put up a better fight,” laughed Zoro as he took out a group of Marines with a slash.

“Speak for yourself,” answered Usopp as he fought off two. After you and Sanji went to grab your sister, the rest of the Strawhats moved to the top deck and began to attack the rest of the armada. Thanks to your insider knowledge, the Strawhats were able to pinpoint their weak points and capitalize it to their advantage. Jimbei was able to attack from below while Zoro, Luffy, and Brook took care of the Marines from above. Franky and Usopp took control of the Marine ship and used its weapons against their own while Chopper, Robin, and Nami protected the Sunny from the Marines counterattacks. 

Now with most of the Marines taken care off, the Strawhats were back on the Sunny, waiting for you and Sanji to appear with your sister. 

“What’s taking them so long?” asked Nami. They were starting to grow concerned. According to Robin and Luffy, your sister was just one floor up. It shouldn’t be taking you this long unless…

Chopper piped up. “I should go back and check. What if they need a doctor?” 

“Calm down. Sanji would have come up and grabbed you already is there was,” reasoned Zoro. Despite his words, he wasn’t too sure. 

But thankfully, him and the rest of the crew could stop worrying as you and Sanji suddenly appeared with your sister in your arms. You both jumped from the Marine ship and landed on the Sunny’s deck. You immediately laid your sleeping sister down. 

“Chopper!” yelled Sanji. Chopper sprinted over and started to inspect your sister. You remained silent. Nami ordered everyone to prepare the sails. 

After a few minutes as Chopper checked and the sails were prepared, Chopper finally spoke up. “She’s okay. She sounds healthy. I think they gave her a sedative so that explains why she’s been able to sleep through all of this.” You let out a deep breath. You pulled Chopper in a hug and thanked him. 

Sanji got down on his knees next to you and rubbed your back. “You did it. You saved her.” You turned towards him and pulled him in for a hug. He reciprocated it and held you close. You silently cried in his chest. You did it. The Sunny started to move, signaling the end of a chapter. Or at least, it felt like it. 

“SIREN!” yelled a voice. You pulled your head away from Sanji’s head and looked at the Marine ship. You couldn’t believe it.

“YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU COULD GET RID OF ME LIKE THAT!” yelled Vice Admiral Doberman. He stood on the deck with a speaker snail in his hand. 

You got up, despite Sanji’s protest. You knew as long as Doberman was alive this would never be over. You walked away from your sister and Sanji and stood on the Sunny’s railing. You turned around to face the crew and smiled before leaping off.

“WAIT!” Sanji cried. He chased after you but was held down by his Captain’s long arms. He turned around to see Luffy giving him a serious look. His eyes were telling him to wait. 

— — — 

You don’t think you ever yelled so much in your life. It felt so freeing, knowing that this would be the last time you would ever board a Marine ship willing. The last time you would ever have to follow their orders. The last time you would ever have to be the Siren. 

You sky walked and screeched across the sky. Doberman ran across the deck, trying to avoid your screams. But it was no use. His ship was falling apart. 

“STOP OR ELSE,” he threatened. Your really couldn’t believe him. Did he think he still had some power over you? You aimed one scream directly at him and pushed him off his deck. Good riddance. 

You let out one final scream and cracked the ship in half. Water gushed in it causing it to sink. Still in the air, you turned around to see the Sunny. And to your surprise, your sister was awake.

— — —

Sanji never knew destruction could look so divine. He was so engrossed looking at you that he didn’t notice your sister wake up. 

“Huh, where am I?” she asked. She looked around and was shocked to see a blue sky instead of a grey ceiling. She looked around and realized that she was sitting on the Thousand Sunny, the infamous ship of the Strawhat pirates. 

Chopper called Sanji. As soon as he made eye contact with your sister, he froze. Thankfully, Robin also noticed and ran towards your sister. 

“Little one,” she yelled as she reached your sister. She pulled your sister in a hug and explained everything. How she was captured by the Marines, how they came together to save her from being shipped off to who knows where, how Sanji and you got get out of that ship, and how they’re all going to take you home. 

She turned and looked at Sanji. Her eyes void of any emotion. Sanji opened his mouth to speak, but she beat her to it.

“Thank you… for helping my sister,” she whispered. Sanji just nodded. Baby steps. 

“Look, she’s on her way back,” pointed out Robin. Everyone turned to see you sky-walking back to the Sunny.

So close…

but yet so far.

A harpoon shot out of the water and dug into your side. Sanji felt his heart stop. Your sister screamed. 

You flew back into the water. 

Word Count: 2010

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Notes: Penultimate chapter!! Sorry for the delay! I really wanted to take my time with this. Can't believe I'm so close to finishing!

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 16.5 (BONUS)

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: what did y/n tell az? and what did he tell her? btw ya’ll, i planned to post this AFTER the story was done, but starfall and other things ended up on a wonky day so i added this right here instead lol

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

“I was born in the camps, Ironcrest, around fifty years before Rhysand was High Lord. I spent 16 years doing my chores without a complaint. I spent a lot of my time in the woods nearby, befriending small creatures and teaching myself necessary survival skills. Sometimes I was able to spent my nights there, cradled in the silence of the forest, away from the camp that seemed to always be buzzing with some type of hostility. Not even my mother provided me comfort. My brother was always too caught up in his training, fighting other males, fucking, or getting punished to even look in my direction.”

Azriel didn’t dare interrupt, but I swore I felt his grasp tighten even further.

“At the age of sixteen, however, one of my few friends, Emily, got her first bleeding. She was taken away. The next time I saw her, she was bloodied up, her wings producing most of it. She was unconscious while a male from another camp came to ‘claim’ her or something. The only useful thing my mother ever taught me was that I was perceived has a breeding tool to males. And at my first bleeding, I would be clipped. My wings, forever damaged. Leaving me unable to fly for the rest of my life. I didn’t fly often, many times I was too weak or didn’t see a use for it yet. But to take it away? No, I would never allow that.

“So I began watching. Watching the males train, so incredibly closely. Their flight, the patterns and signals they used, the formations I saw. I also befriended the local siphon distributor. He instantly took a fascination to me, for whatever reason, I will never know, but he showed me where the siphons were kept and how they could be used and tapped into. I began to plan my escape as soon as I had all my information, and when I feared my own bleeding coming too soon, I would steal a siphon, and fly out of the camp. Away, as far as possible.

“On the night of my escape, everything was set. I stole the siphon, and a small pack of food, and began flying out of the camp. But nothing ever is that easy.”

Azriel tensed.

“A few seconds go by with my wings beating furiously, and then I’m grabbed roughly. I hadn’t accounted for the guards. They dragged me back to the ground by my wings and made me kneel before Ambroz while they held me still. I could barely hear them, with my heart beating so fast and hard. But I did hear the word ‘clipping’ and I started thrashing. All they did was hold me hard enough to bruise. They dragged me into the very woods I had grown to love, and tied my wings to two wooden poles. Blood dried in the earth nearby, and I thrashed so much the two Illyrian males who caught me, had to told me still. Ambroz brought out a knife and I struggled. Finally, I got one hand free, and dived it into my pocket and held the siphon in my palm. I didn’t know how to use is actually, but through some combination of sheer will and instinct, I pushed that killing power into the siphon. It burst, naturally, I had too much power, but the light and power that came out allowed me just enough time to escape and fly as far away as possible.”

“I’m sorry,” Azriel muttered, the rumble in his chest never faltering. I didn’t reply, just continued to tell something I had only ever told one person in my entire life.

“I lived in the woods for about a year after that. During which Illyrians continuously attempted to find me, but I hid. The shadows found me and appeared for the first time when I was shivering in a rainstorm under a cedar tree. Their whispers comforted me, embracing me in a way I did not truly know until that moment. They asked me to sing to them–with them–as I think they do with every shadowsinger.”

Azriel chuckled, that rumble pausing for a moment. “They do. It’s why we’re called shadowsingers. Nobody ever knows what the name means… but every one of us does.”

I nodded against his collarbone in agreement.

“After that one year, I planned to go back. The shadows gave me confidence and told me that I could hide within them and never be seen. I used them to hide and sneak back into Ironcrest. I stole a whole bag of siphons without detection. With that, I grew emboldened. I hunted and made a leather strip for my siphons–not the same as I have now naturally, but it was of deer skin. It took a couple tries to test how many siphons I required to wield my power.

“The Illyrians finally found me eventually though. A small group of three. With my shadows, siphons and self-made weapons, I killed them all. My first kills, besides animals. But I never did look back.

“Around the time that Rhys became High Lord, I left the Night Court. I was searching for a place where I wouldn’t be found and attacked. I almost got myself killed a few more times while traveling, but I finally made it somewhere solate, silent and familiar with how cold it is. The Winter Court isn’t kind, but I knew how to survive. I took a job in a small town, and saved up my coins to buy a sword. The same one I have now.

“Around the third time I tried to ‘practice’ with my sword, a raven squawked so loudly I dropped the damn piece of metal. It flew down, landing on my shoulder and then shifted into a High Fae. She scolded me on my posture, stance and grasp. I didn’t like her at first, but as I kept returning to that clearing, she kept coming back and taught me how to use my sword. Around fifty years of that and Rainne decided to get me some war experience. The Spring Court versus the Winter Court. I had some fun, gained some confidence and skill. Actually, about five months into the war, Helion Spell-Cleaver came to the camp, meeting with the Winter Court High Lord for some reason. Let’s just say we had an altercation, and Rainne was delighted with my reaction. Rainne and I laughed about it for a long time, after of course, she made sure I fixed my posture, and had me practice that move more.”

Azriel chuckled. “I hope that won’t affect the visit we have to his palace soon.”

I scoffed. “It’ll be fine,” I replied.

“I began to miss many things about the Night Court, and when I indulged Rainne with my thoughts, she responded ‘It’s high time I leave the Winter Court for adventure!’ So we traveled back to the Night Court, and back to familiar lands.

“The day we passed over the border though, we only made it about three miles before a patrol of Illyrians from above attacked us. They had the element of surprise and we only had our wits. The Raven, my master, passed on. I winnowed for the first time, like I told you. Some innate instinct I didn’t know of, mixed with the anger and want for revenge. I killed them all within seconds. I spent a day mourning beside her body, but I soon went to find a resting place for Rainne. After laying her to rest, I spent a week straight flying, trying to escape my thoughts before returning to mourn. Almost a year went by while I just stayed nearby, no matter how much I struggled. I did finally leave, still grieving, but knowing I shouldn’t pass from grief. Rainne wouldn’t like that.

“When Amarantha appeared, and Under the Mountain was occurring, I made myself meek and small, hiding. When it ended, and I learned of a new High Fae, revived by all the High Lords, named Feyre Cursebreaker, I knew something was coming. When I saw the Illyrians forming the army, I hid, but joined for that final battle where a Death God took the enemy down. I was winnowed back with Rhysand, but I went back to my own devices soon after.

“15 years later, and I found myself peering over a rocky overhang into Velaris, the City of Starlight, around the time when a male’s voice told me not to move, lest they kill me.”

Azriel hummed. “I think I know that male,” he chuckled.

“He might just be your brother,” I joked back, chuckling as well.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Azriel said, scratching the back of my head gently. “I think I can guess how many know that story.”

“It was a story to be told,” I replied. (a/n: dont mind me cackling as i add the title in the story LMAO)

“I have a story if you want to hear it.”

I shifted slightly, moving my head away from his collarbone to look at him. His eyes looked pained, but he smiled when I met his eyes.

I went back to laying comfortably. “Tell me,” I whispered. “However much or however little you want.”

“I spent… the first eleven years of my life locked in a dungeon. The bastard son of an Illyrian lord. My stepmother and step brothers were cruel. So incredibly cruel. I was only allowed to see my kind mother for an hour each week. A time that was my only source of positive interaction. No flying, no training… even if everything in me screamed to do so.”

I tightened my own grip on him. How dare they-

“When I was eight… my step brothers decided to mix oil and fire with an Illyrian’s healing. My father’s warriors heard my screaming too late to save my hands from having these damn scars. The shadows came to me after that night as well. Urging me to sing with them.”

I smiled faintly. It seems the shadows came to us both in time when we were alone, hurt and feeling hopeless. Singing with the shadows was a novel experience, and I would never forget it. I don't find as much time to do it nowadays, but every once in a while… I’d take a break to sing my heart out with all of them.

“When I turned eleven, I was dumped in Windhaven,” Azriel continued. “Well received because of my abilities, but I was still a bastard to everyone else. I met Cassian and Rhys there. We all hated each other. Rhys’s mother took me in because she knew my mother.

“Eventually though, my brothers and I realized that we’d have better luck together than alone. It was a slow process though, learning to like each other. Our power was unlike anyone else's. The first bastards to receive siphons. The most powerful Illyrians alive… When Rhys's father saw that his son had started to rival him in power and had allied with the two most powerful Illyrian warriors in history, he separated us in fear that we would eventually turn against him. And perhaps that was a good choice, considering our bond.

“I was his personal shadowsinger. I was his spy. I was his torturer. His hand, he told me. His cruel, twisted hand. The War was horrible, and I hated myself for all that I saw. All those years, not knowing whether or not my brothers were even alive-”

He paused, taking a deep breath.

“When Rhys was appointed High Lord, I became his spymaster. The same job, but for a far kinder cause. Not killing and torturing innocents, but the guilty.”

I closed my eyes, taking in all that he’d told me.

“Your scars only make you more unique,” I said, yawning tiredly. “I like them.”

I could’ve sworn that the purr in his chest increased in amplitude at those words. But he didn’t reply, just moved to pick me up carefully.

“Rest angel,” he spoke after he’d picked me up like a baby doll and laid me on my bed, tucking the covers around me.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol

[asexualbuthorny]

Oh god getting reborn as a hybrid fucked me up pt. 2

CW: abuse, general hybrid shennanigans, future nsfw, comfort, doubt, big boi is a touchstarved mf, i wrote this on my phone so the formating went to shit, enjoy

You've been at this shelter for a while now. People came and went but none wanted anything to do with you. The moment they saw that you were in a fighting ring the humans would briskly walk away from your pen. The fact that rottweilers were seen as agressive and brutish didn't help your situation. The scars on your body only amplified the fact that you were of the fighting sort. You were really tired of this game. You'd sometimes ask when they would finally put you down but the workers only smiled sadly and kept telling you that that wouldn't happen and that you were safe. What a bunch of liars.....

It was the start of another day at the shelter. You ate breakfast (the most delicious thing you've ever tasted) and began your people watching. Humans came and went, some hybrids ended up getting adopted, good for them you say. As you were lazing around a shadow suddenly appeared by the gate of your kennel. It was a human. The fear that was trained into you by previous owners made you instantly tense up and huddle in the furthest corner away from the person. "Awwww look at you. Such a big boy. Don't be shy I won't hurt you come come" the human becons you with a small motion of his hand. What are you supposed to do? Humans usually don't try to talk to you much less touch you. You looked around for one of the workers to come stop the man but noone was around to help you out of this situation. When you looked at the mans outstreched hand you remembered that your second owner would sometimes grab you by the cheeks to intimidate you. Was that what was happening here? You didn't know why this human wanted to scare you but you were too trained and scared to not comply. So with some hesitation you put your chin on top of the palm of his hand and waited for what would happen next.

Rozinth Valentina has been lonely for a long time now. Suddenly becoming richer than he could ever imagine left him with a rather large condo and more money than he could ever know what to do with. Hybrids had become a huge trend over the recent yearsand as much as Rozinth disliked the idea he found himself at one of the many hybrid shelters. 'If I'm going to get a hybrid at least I'm not going to pay those assholes who breed them' the young man thought as he stepped through the doors. The first thing that caught his eye was a giant rottweiler hybrid laying in the rays of the sun that were streaming in through one of the windows. 'He is absolutely..... ADORABLE!!!!' Rozinth internally squealed as he walked over to the kennel containing his future friend. The man saw a simple clipboard hanging on the door and took it off to examine it....

'Oh poor dear he's been through so much'. To say Rozinth was upset would have been an understatement. The amount of abuse the poor hybrid has suffered almost made him sick. Then the hybrids eyes were on him and the man could do nothing but watch as the teriffied hybrid scrambled to get as far away from him as possible. Now that was heartbreaking. Rozinth tried to call the big dog over but he just continued staring in fear at the human. Rozinth knew he couldn't give up and that this hybrid had to come home with him so he continued trying to get the dog to come to him. Just as Rozinth was begining to loose hope the hybrid laid his chin on the humans open palm and Rozinths heart melted. "You're just a big sweetie aren't you? Yes you're such a good boy!" The young man cooed as he began giving the dog hybrid scritches and pats...

'What is happening? This wasn't supposed to go this way' you thought as the human began petting your head and saying all sorts of praise. 'Did I do something good?' you wondere as you lent further into the gentle hands. If this is what being obedient got you with this guy you wouldn't mind killing and collecting more scars for him. Hell you'd even take a beating with a smile if it meant you got this after. Your enjoyment of the touch didn't last long as a worker came running up to the man and told him to "Please step back and refrain from touching the hybrids so carelessly. They might get spooked and we don't want to get in trouble if you get attacked" The human who was petting you huffed and with an almost incredulous look said "What do you mean attacked? As if this sweet boy could hurt me I mean look at him! He couldn't hurt a fly". The worker looked upset now. They were one you didn't particularly like as they were mean to you and enjoyed annoying you with loud noises. "Couldn't hurt-are you stupid? This thing is from a fighting ring the only thing it knows how to do is hurt!". You recoil at that. It wasn't your fault that the humans forced you to fight and you didn't want to die. The guy who pet you now looked furious. He looked rich so the shelter could get in trouble for insulting a rich guy. You knew their types.....

This-THIS ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE! How could this rando say that about the sweet hybrid. The poor boy was in a fighting ring? GEEE WONDER WHOS FUCKING FAULT IS THAT?! Rozinth decided then and there that he would adopt the poor rottie. "Hmph. I need to speak to the front desk. I have an adoption to make.". Rozinth declared as he marched away from the worker and the hybrid.....

You were standing outside the shelter with the man and you could not believe it. You got adoped by this seemingly gentle human. 'What could he want with me?' you thought as the man lead you to his car. "There we go big guy. I live rather far but the car is comfy so there's nothing to worry about" your new owner said as he got in to drivers side. "If you have any questions feel free to ask" "What do I call you?" you asked quietly because some humans liked having titles and whatnot and you didn't want to call him wrong and end up beaten. "My name is Rozinth" he chirrped and you knew you weren't getting more than that. Guess you're sticking to owner then. Well let's just hope this won't be any worse than all your other owners...

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Hi, I just wanted to say Nhthcth is my favorite TMA fic ever.(sorry this is so long)

The different ways it’s written is so cool and fun, I especially like the bit in the theater with Grimaldi. The characterization is amazing - I love your Jon so much, he’s been through so much, but is still trying to help everyone in anyway he can(just like in the podcast), not to mention you’ve somehow made a character that literally never shows up in the podcast be so fun and enthralling (I can’t imagine Danny in any other way now)

I know there are a billion AU TMA fics out there, but so many of them are time-travel fix-it (which is fine, some of them are really cool) But I really like what-if type fanfics, and yours is, in my opinion, one of the best out there.

I could literally go on about it for days, it’s so good! Once I get an ao3 account, I will probably comment on like every chapter, picking out the bits I really like; if you don’t mind that is, I don’t want to spam you with comments on old chapters. (Sorry if this is weird or creepy, I just really like your fic)

y'all are sooo kind thank you so much you guys make my day

the theatre bit with Grimaldi i feel actually ended up being pivotal to how nhthcth ended up being written. I remember that when I first tried writing that chapter, I struggled a bit with how to best convey the stranger, and I ended up experimenting with the theatre script format and it just clicked. then, danny and jon were trying to outrun a REALLY fucked up clown and danny was catching jon when he was jumping and kicking grimaldi in the face and i was like "oh this is fun. this is so much fun" and it kind of gave the license lean into more experimental formatting and a little bit of slapstick. that chapter/scene really changed a lot of how i approached nhthcth for the better.

Danny is one of my FAVORITE characters in nhthcth and he actually isn't fully from nhthcth. I have this really elaborate, ridiculously long story plotted out that I affectionally call the himbois AU starring Gerry, Jon, and Danny. the idea is that Jon has a run-in with Agnes Montague while he's still at university and finds himself free of strings that Mother would really rather he kept in, and somehow spiraled into Jon, Gerry, and an amnesiac Danny Stoker running a ghost hunting youtube channel as a cover for supernatural shenanigans that accidentally blew up and became famous. it's basically just buzzed unsolved and famous for the air of skepticism they bring to supernatural investigations--because jon and gerry could NOT take some old houses with bad insulation seriously when they were on the run from the spider that tried to eat jon in childhood.

i actually got back into fanfiction because of it--i wasn't publishing anything for years, just writing it for myself, and then i started explaining this story to a friend who was really into it, and especially danny's character. when i decided to start putting my stuff out there, I already had nhthcth planned and decided to try for that one. danny stoker was already in the plans for, but he wasn't anywhere close to the danny that ended up in the final product of nhthcth. i ended up adapting the danny from the himbois AU for my friend who loved him so much, and he's much better for it.

i think i'll always be partial to himbois!Danny as like, my favorite mental version of danny stoker, but nhthcth!danny is extremely important to me too. i'm really thrilled that so many other people have found him to be important to them too

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Oh oh fake fic

Through my broken heart

should i take this in a literal sense? absolutely. will i also make it karlnap for ya? abso-fucking-lutely !!! :D

also cw for character death!

through my broken heart

being immortal was rough. he thought it lovely when he first found sapnap, a timid young kid that he'd met at a similar age one day. karl had promised to keep sapnap safe, already having had been burdened with immortality at five.

the two built a little hideout in the forest to share their problems with and simply exist together in. it was deep in the forest, almost half-underground.

as they grew, their roles swapped. sapnap grew out of his fears and always turned to face them, while karl couldn't care to try and do anything anymore, because he knew there was never any danger. and sapnap always lightened his mood, so the two were easily inseparable.

only thing was, after they were about thirteen, sapnap started growing. considerably quickly. not your run-of-the-mill puberty-growth, like they'd suspected.

by the time he was fifteen he stood almost fifteen feet above karl.

he never minded, though, because still, he didn't care about most things.

and they grew even older, and sapnap taller. karl barely exceeded his finger by the time he was deemed tall enough for the universe.

karl stopped aging in his twenties and kept his looks forevermore. meanwhile, sapnap stopped growing in his late-twenties and kept that height.

although not legally binded in any way, they got married, and grew old together. or, sapnap grew old while karl kept young and healthy.

and then sapnap died.

and years later, when he'd tried to forget about love. even after many worthy candidates had approached him, he'd kept the relationship friendly.

decades pass, and karl finds himself wandering through a forest that felt distantly familiar.

and there, was a rather large structure that was half overgrown.

he recognized it as a carcass; bones that made up a skeleton barely shown through the foliage.

and only one that big and human could've been......

and as he breaks through the scaling vines and goes to search, where in the heart cavity was the sloppily-made entrance to a now distant memory of a clubhouse built a century ago, where everything seemed frozen in place.

took the ball and ran with it for this one. i tried to format this different since i know you like thieving fake fics ;3

[198d]

...

So, working on a project and one aspect of it is making a really simple scientific poster. I'm the design guy, I do the front nd design since I'm the only person who knows basic html and css, the only person who has taken art and design classes, and I do this stuff for fun so I go ahead and take charge of the poster. Plus they really just don't have the intuition for design at all, even when I or the professors give clear instructions on How To Do Things Right. We have to make tons of drafts and get feedback on them, and its kind of a dripfeed because staff would make comments on some things, neglect to comment on the other things, and make us turn in another draft based on those missed comments.

Every single fucking time my teammates would work on it, I would have to go back and fix allllllll of the margins and padding they neglected, and I would have to remake every image of a diagram into a simplified, vectorized. Every time we had to change text or images based on the feedback, I would have to go back and change those as well. Today, while I was working on this, one of my teammates was literally trying to edit the same thing at the same time (using figma and diagrams.net). I was going to lose my mind because I was just trying to fix all of the issues, like I had to do multiple times, that my teammates would neglect from the feedback, and so this was actively happening while I was trying to fix them.

I had everything in their own groups, so that it would be easy to change things out. My teammates didn't know how to work with that. Earlier teammate literally did not understand that a file cannot have two different file extensions, and sent me a rasterized image of a diagram instead of the actual editable file, because diagrams.net just lets you have an "editable (so like, able to move around the individual elements) png" saved to your google docs, exported it as a plain png and posted it in the project chat. When I couldn't open it they then tried to tell me like, well it worked for me and well it has the other extension too so it should work. It was only the filename that had the 'extension' of the proper file format. (this is the big csc senior class btw)

The fact that we went back and forth so much on that diagram to begin with was frustrating because they could've given me access to the editable file at any time, and would constantly ignore or forget feedback which meant having to fix it many, many more times, and most of those fixes were still missing the core design feedback like 'make the text size bigger' and 'eliminate unnecessary whitespace'. If anything, it would've been much better if I went through with porting it to figma instead of relying on them, but I'm over here not wanting to be a total control freak so I'm like... whatever.

So when I get access to that diagram I fix issues from all of the feedback, but at the end of our final feedback they go and try to edit at the same fucking time as I am editing, and I had been fixing the diagram all day up to that point. Then the same thing happened on the figma document, and of course they deleted my group for the section the diagram was supposed to go in, so I had to make it again, fix the margins, fix the padding, fix the sizing.

They also completely trashed my design for a page I worked on for the project itself like waay earlier in the semester, so I was like. Okay. You guys do your thing, I can put in all my junk later. I would like to avoid wasting my time as much as possible, considering how mentally ill and exhausted I already am.

oh yeah and also the examples the professors put in the powerpoint for posters had the same (margins and spacing or text inconsistencies, bad looking screenshots, that kind of thing) or worse issues (think black impact font on a busy patterned background, for fucks sake) that they kept nitpicking us for, so its kinda like. please actually showcase something that's relevant thanks.

At least it's finally(?) over.

[chpare]

Intermission: Birthday Gift

I just wanted to start with, Happy Birthday Retto, one of my grandest friends that I am glad is doing alright!

Now then, for this, let's consider it a step away from the current story, and a preview into the future story, but not during the main arc, but during private times.

During an Autumn Saturday afternoon...

Click- Clock- Click-- Clock--

The seconds click and clock on by as Aldric is laying on his wood carved blue cushioned sofa, he was looking up at a book that was suspended by a blue quilted fabric. The fabric itself was actually in the form of a Scarf like hand, one that was as calm as a cat under the suns rays during golden hour.

"Hey, I think I'm good for now Tabs, this book is kind of getting on my nerves if I'm to be honest."

The book itself was rather rubbish, he had high high hopes for it but...

Tabs just slings the book at the book cabinet only knocking a few books over and some photos.

"Tabs, I didn't mean you could send it into the great beyond like that... Now look what you did."

Aldric sets himself up right on that fucking fancy ass couch, like how could he afford it? Oh wait right... This is Side-Dell we are talking about. Tabs fluffs up against Aldric's shoulder a bit shivering, causing some warmth on Aldric's shoulder.

"Tabs, it's fine, it's not like you did anything wrong. Just made a too soon assumption I think."

Aldric stands upright in his winter blue home clothes, basically being baggy plaid longue PJs, and a light breathable fabric long sleeve hoody. TABS was tucked into the hoody part behind him, acting like a cousin when he was laying down on the couch.

"Hey, aren't these photos of when you were giving to me by my Aunt? She always loved going by the name Aviator..."

He was more younger in the photo he has picked up. It was of him and this light dirty blonde haired women, she was very toothy in her smile. She actually had an Aviator type of outfit on as well, with the jean jacket and everything, hell even the cap to match.

"She said you were a family heirloom that I would pass down whenever I felt it was time... But only when it was time, because you've been passed down time to time each time."

Tabs nods in agreement, not like he was scared of the answer, it was true, he has been through multiple generations of the Himan family. Ranging from knights to indie pop sensation Apollo The Third. He didn't really enjoy that one... Too many gothic vibes ugh.

"This one is of us during your first visit to an actual water park!"

Again, the Himan family is really weird, none of them before Aldric has actually been to a water park either... So let's just say... I may have panicked a lot when Aldric tried to go for a swim or a slide. He said that his neck kind of hurt the next day.

"This one is of when we had our first sleep over with Paige and Diggory!"

Again, I panicked and almost when full feral on those two... Didn't realize other people could sleep in the same room as my familiar of the time. They all said their necks hurt the next day.

"Oh and this is of when we went to visit the graveyard when I had that uh... Emo Scene phase..."

HE STILL KEPT HIS HAIR KIND OF FLOOFY BECAUSE OF THAT! But let his natural dirty blonde hair color take over finally. Did I also mention that I freaked and almost knocked over a gravestone of some weird guy called grandgrandgrandcone?

"Great times huh?"

Aldric reaches up and hugs Tabs tightly, the quilted blue fabric changing it's thread count and formation to become a more softer fabric.

"Dunno when I'll have to pass you on to your next familiar but... I really enjoy how you enriched my life Tabs. Thank you."

Yeee, hope y'all enjoyed the lore drops and such, the main story will resume hopefully next month!

[tergridguy]

The Boom Box Deck; Learning and Playing Standard in Paper

For the last few months, I've been doing what I can to make playing standard in paper in my community a reality. How exactly I got on that trip is a story for another time, but suffice to say there were others in my community who planted the seeds and provided the right conditions for the concept to find root and bloom into reality. What was once an absurd dream has become real, and the event that was dreamed up to make it happen is only a few days away.

On July 17, 2024 at the Game Underground at 349 Moody st, Waltham, at around 6:30 pm, we're gonna have us a real Standard Showdown in paper. There will be decklists submitted, sideboards will be in evidence, a rarity in these parts considering the formats that have them simply aren't played, and we will have us a winner. That's something our events never have, a champion. Maybe you win a few games, 3-0 a draft, whatever, but no trophy, no grand prize, no champion. This week, that changes. This week we are gonna find out who's the best.

It might even be me. I might be a longshot, but if I don't take the gold, it won't be for lack of trying. I've never had the chance to play magic, constructed magic at least, truly competitively. I was born a casual in the era of commander and best of one on my phone, I never got to play a grand prix or a Friday night magic in a 60 card format. My whole life, I feel like I've never put all of myself into a competition, I always said I didn't care or held back or fucked off so when I lost I could say 'well I didn't really try.' This time, I wanted to change that.

I have a problem with pet cards, joke cards, silly, stupid, narrow, 'flavorful' cards. As soon as my decks start to function I get excited to see how much jank I can weigh them down with before they stop working entirely. In my natural stare, I will eventually arrive at all bad cards and a deck that doesn't get to make the joke it wants to make because it doesn't work at all.

I think it's part of my fear of trying my hardest and still failing. The jokes, the jank, the silliness, it's a defense against the pain of really losing, of being bad, of sucking. I'm learning that getting better at the game is about getting better at losing and trying your hardest. You have to learn to be excited to lose because you are excited to learn.

One of my strengths is that I want to try so many things, but it's a weakness when I leave the job half-done, treat my sideboard as a clown car, pepper my deck with one-of's, and put all my wins on my (undeserving)pet cards. I've been trying to beat that shit out of myself, get it out of my system, and learn what it means to play to win 100%.

Having said that, Boom Box seems like an odd choice I guess. It's not exactly many players' idea of a good, or even a playable card. On the surface it looks like just another joke-- a card players squint at real hard thinking if they even want it in their limited deck, but it has matured into something I think is quite serious. There is just so much artifact support in standard right now, it's taken me months to test all the things I've tried in the deck and I would need many more than I have to try all the things I've thought about trying. It's a deck with a very high skill curve, with so many interactions and esoteric artifact lines that only make sense to the deranged or lobotomized mind. I'm hoping none of my opponents have one of those.

The Boom Box Deck as it stands now is my best effort. I've tested and practiced and played hundreds of matches to try to really find out how to do my best. I want to be vulnerable, to go out there and play my hardest, and be willing to accept victory or defeat without qualification. No excuses, no holding back, no bad cards kept around to serve as excuses. I intend to make a decent showing of myself, and I wish each and every other competitor out there the best of luck, I hope everyone else who can comes to support the members of our community who have invested in bringing this event to life because we are going to do our damndest to put on a hell of a show. See you all there.