But What If Both Mina And Jonathan Were Left With Lingering Vampiric Traits. A Perfectly Sweet And Normal

Would Eddie want to teach you d&d or would he rather you already know how to play

Either one, Eddie would just be stoked if you were interested in D&D at all.

If you already knew how to play D&D (even just a little bit) then I think the rest of Hellfire would worship the ground you walked on and accept you as one of their own immediately (so long as you were also a decent person). Nerds and Freaks have gotta stick together, ya know?

If you didn't know how to play D&D but wanted to learn I can totally see Eddie assigning himself to be your tutor and teaching you the basic rules/how to create a character/how to RP/the different styles of gameplay (Roleplay heavy vs Hack-n-Slash dungeon crawling, etc) before indoctrinating you into Hellfire and gifting you your very own Hellfire Club shirt upon you "Graduating" his D&D 101 course. He'd be super patient with you but also very strict about your "study sessions".

But either way, him and the rest of Hellfire would just be happy that someone else would want to game and hang out with them.

One of my fav authors guys

Guys

I can't

This person dragged my ass into the trenches of this fandom in the very beginning

Hi!!! Idk what happened but you disappeared from my dash for a while and now you are back and it feels a lot like seeing the return of greenery to a burnt forest :D very happy

YOU'RE SO SWEET!!! I literally made a little squeak out loud and I think it might've spooked my boyfriend, so congrats on spooking a full grown man.

I hope to post a lot more! I love posting regularly, and I love love LOVE asks and replies to my posts! Seriously. I can't stress how much it makes me smile and giggle and blush. I just can't control it.

I have some ideas for fics (including an upcoming centaur au???) but I am curious about what sort of fics people would like to see! If you have suggestions, please let me know!!!

They're fooling around drunk, Simon's hand stroking the Scotsman's cock as his other hand holds him firmly at the back of his neck. Scuffing him like a mutt. He doesn't think much about what he's saying, attention focused on Johnny as the sergeant tries to keep his moaning quiet.

"If you cum on my hand, I'll make you lick it clean, pup."

The downright pathetic groan that leaves Johnny's lips as his hips buck up to meet Simon's hand, coating his hand in cum is music to his fucking ears.

The next time he gets his hand on Johnny's cock, he isn't stopping until he yips like the brainless puppy he is.

More behind the scenes pictures of the LOTR cast 🤩

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

dir. Peter Jackson

Inside me are two angst filled wolves.

One says Fili is a splitting image of his father, the same eyes, same hair, same smile and gentle features, and everyone tells him how much he looks like his father and Fili nods along and thanks them for their words only to run and lock himself away for hours just staring at his reflection because it’s been so many years that he can’t remember his fathers face.

The other says Fili is a splitting image of his long lost uncle, always the odd one out of the Durin family line with his light colouration and softer features until he wonders the empty halls of Erebor and discovers a torn and scorched portrait of his mother, and two uncles, and finally seeing Frerin and seeing himself reflected in him, and having something inside him snap into place and finally feeling like he belongs.

I need more please

The sons of Elrond! Elladan, Elrohir and Estel 🙏

Thinking about !Butcher Simon Riley with his sweet regular customer..

Simon Riley who doesn’t believe in starting over. Not really. Retired from the military, he’d traded one kind of blood for another. The butcher shop wasn’t much—small place tucked in the corner of Manchester, no fancy signage, no bright lights—but the regulars came. You came. Twice a week, Wednesdays and Fridays like clockwork.

Simon Riley—your butcher—moves with a kind of brutal grace behind the counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, arms cut from marble and hard labor. You watch him work the cleaver like it’s an extension of his body. Focused. Calm. Every slice is deliberate, clean, respectful. There’s no waste in his motion, no hesitation in his hands.

You tell yourself it’s just the way he works—but your heart tells you otherwise. It stutters every time he glances up and catches you staring. You always look away too fast.

He’s seen things, you can tell. Something in the set of his shoulders, in the way he carries silence like a second skin. They say he was military once, but no one in the neighborhood asks. They just buy their lamb chops and brisket, nod respectfully, and leave him be.

But not you.

Sometimes you don’t even need anything. You come into his shop just to linger by the display case, pretend to think hard when he asks what you’re in the mood for, and always end up letting him choose. You like the way he speaks when he’s talking about cuts—like meat is an art form and he’s the only one who understands it. Like there’s a language in bone and fat and sinew, and he knows how to read it all.

He knows you’re into him.

You think he doesn’t notice—how your eyes linger on the flex of his forearms, how your breath catches when he tightens his grip on the knife. But he does. He knew from the first time you smiled at him over a pound of sirloin, all nervous and bright-eyed.

And he liked—more than he should’ve—how you smelled faintly of sugar and coffee when you leaned in to hand him cash.

It wasn’t anything serious. Not at first. Just a little dance. A tilt of your head, a brush of your fingers when he passed you the package. He told himself it was nothing.

But he starts saving the best cuts for you. Packs a little extra into your order. Keeps the shop open late on days when you run behind, just in case. It’s nothing. And it’s everything.

The day you tell him about your promotion, you’re practically vibrating. He can see it before you even speak. You ask—halting, hopeful—if he’d like to come over for dinner. Just dinner. Maybe.

He says yes.

Later, in your tiny kitchen, you cook with meat he cut for you himself. he watches you handle the meat. Sees the way your hands move, careful, precise, even if you’re nervous. You ask him how thin the slices should be. You ask him if he likes garlic. Ask if he likes bourbon. Fuck—darlin’, are you trying to get yourself a ring?

He’s still all knives and scars and quiet edges—but with you, he doesn’t have to be just that. So when you ask him if he wants to stay a little longer after dinner. With that soft, bright smile like you’re not afraid of what’s under his skin, something in him loosens. Maybe even heals, just a little. And he finds he doesn’t mind saying yes to that either.

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Soap is a pitbull, and no im not taking any criticism on this fact ty <3

Boxer!Simon Riley thoughts 🤤

To be perfectly honest Anon, I think Boxers are too goofy for Ghost. I imagine he'd be a better German Shepherd (a bit cliche but yea) or a Kangal Shepherd, idk something big and like a protective/security dog if that makes sense?

I think Soap would be more of a Boxer. Idk, tbh I haven't put much thought into the 141 as animals, but I can see Johhny as a Boxer, Ghost as a Kengal, Gas as an Austrailian Shepherd, and maybe Price as a Rottie? Idk I'm rethinking this as I type it

Ok but the 'her thighs are big enough for a cat to perch on comfortably' broke me ;-; thats such an amazing way to describe thighs

What does Sarah look like? You’ve mentioned tidbits, but do you have a full description?

Well, I think she's maybe two years older than Kate which has nothing to do with anything but she teases Kate for being younger and Kate is so close to throwing something at her.

I think she's maybe three inches taller than Kate, a barely noticeable height difference that she enjoys just a little too much. She's a brunette who's just starting to find a few greys but she doesn't care to dye them. She has really dark brown eyes that almost look black in certain lighting. Her shoulders look tanned but if you get close enough then you'll see its just countless freckles that go all down her arms and back. She's got some meat on her bones, if she sits down on the couch then her thighs are big enough for a cat to perch on comfortably. Hips are shoulders are damn near the same width, she's an immovable force whenever she decides to torment Kate by blocking a doorway she's trying to walk through.

She has a good few tattoos, from silly ones like a ghost with a cowboy hat to gorgeous pieces like a cathedral on her thigh. She also has Kate's initials on her wrist, Kate hates it [a lie].

She's generally a pair of jeans and t-shirt person but she can dress up real fucking fancy when the day requires it.

But most days Kate will come home to find her with her hair thrown up in a messy bun, glasses halfway down her nose as she leans on the kitchen counter to sketch something in a vintage Jurassic Park t-shirt and Batman underwear.

*Elrond after the fellowships leave Imladris

Elrond : bring the best one we can offer to Thranduil, and also tell him that we sent his son, his only son, his only heir, the only family he had, to the most dangerous quest with bunch of hobbits who looks like kids who can't even lift a sword, a wizard, two men who can't even stand each other, and..... A DWARF.....

Lindir : shall I prepare your departure to valinor too, just in case, My Lord?