#just in case bc of the salt circle

[houseofaegon]

ENCHANTRESS ╱ BOB REYNOLDS/VOID SERIES

✷ ─── +18 MINORS DNI 𓏲  ◟ ♡ ˖ ࣪ dark themes, witchcraft, mentions of trauma, grief, mentions of character's death, blood & ritual imagery, possession, morally gray characters, violence, sexual tension, slow burn, nsfw smut scenes, chapters with explicit sexual content will be tagged and rated accordingly. each chapter will include specific warnings.

✷ ─── AUTHOR'S NOTE. this series is my love letter to witchy women, lovers of fleetwood mac and mother stevie nicks, and misty day devotees. this is for the ones who speak to the moon, pull tarot cards, carry crystals on their purses, and leave salt at the doors just in case. arabella montenegro is an original character born from my obsession with witchtcraft, feminine rage, tarot cards, and folklore. she's not just a witch, she's a girl with a monster inside of her who still dares to love deeply and profoundly. i also craved a latina!oc for bob reynolds bc yes—latinas for bob reynolds. let's be for real right now, bob needs someone who can hex him and heal him at the same time. thank you for reading and giving this series a chance. reblogs are always welcomed and deeply appreciated, comments warm my heart and inspire me to keep writing, so thank you for always supporting me! lots of love, bri.

✷ ─── ENCHANTRESS SERIES. chapter one: beauty in tragedy. chapter two: the devil you know. chapter three: the witch. chapter four: moonlit waters. chapter five: divine hunger. chapter six: to burn & be burned. chapter seven: of teeth & tenderness. chapter eight: bound by blood. chapter nine: ashes between us. chapter ten: salt in the wound. chapter eleven: blood moon. chapter twelve: whispers in the dark. chapter thirteen: the witch and the void.

⠀‘  ݁  ִ ׂ  ̧ ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ prophet girl, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀chosen by the sun, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀do you hear the gods whispering ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀those silent stardust words?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cursed daughter, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ uttering insanities no one believes ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀do you regret taking the vow?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀‘  ݁  ִ ׂ  ̧ ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 

♱ ˖ ࣪ .  ARABELLA MONTENEGRO was born under a blood moon, marked by old gods, bound to ancient magic, cursed and chosen all at once.

A witch.

A weapon.

An Avenger once, before the world became too loud, and her own shadows grew teeth sharper than anyone could control.

They called her The Enchantress, not realizing that name belonged to something else—the other half of her.

The darkness that lives beneath her skin.

Not evil. Not good. Just ancient, and waiting to be let out.

Now, Arabella walks barefoot through the Watchtower—salt at her doorways, obsidian rings on her fingers, shadows whispering her name like a sacred incantation. Her tarot cards never lie. Her shadows never sleep.

After the near-destruction of New York by the Void, she's called back to a world she tried to leave behind, she’s called back to the fight—to the Thunderbolts, to Bucky, to the ghosts of who she used to be.

And to BOB REYNOLDS.

The golden god with too much power, and too many fractures.

He is power incarnate.

And Arabella is the only thing he cannot destroy.

But the Void sees her too. Wants her. Recognizes the entity buried inside her—the one who looks back when she stares too long into the dark.

Because inside Bob, something dark stirs.

And inside her, something just as dark answers.

Arabella Montenegro doesn't believe in salvation. Not for herself, not for anyone else.

But somewhere between salt circles and moonlit rituals, between banter, bitten lips, and stolen touches—the witch and the void begin to burn.

And when they finally touch, the world will never be the same.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ROBERT 'BOB' REYNOLDS ╱ THE SENTRY/VOID

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ARABELLA MONTENEGRO ╱ ENCHANTRESS

 

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 © 2025. DO NOT STEAL, REPOST, OR COPY THIS STORY TO TUMBLR, WATTPAD, AO3, OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM. Moodboards and graphics made by @houseofaegon DO NOT repost or reuse without credit. chain divider by @cursed-carmine

♱ ˖ ࣪ . taglist: @the-a-word-2214 @favestxrboy @uraesthete @abbysbenchpr @sammystarswrite @pey2618 @qardasngan @lunaoieoie @orithyia-eriphyle @amatiswayland @madzzz6958 @all-by-myself98 @dark-silhouette @ghost-ghost-13 @wyvernthekriger @gayfiretruck @watermeezer @lvmxla @novausstuff @mommymilkers0526 @natureartisian @feralgoblinbabe @misaki-evans (if you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know in the comments. love, bri.)

[milksnake-tea]

hey all !! normally i wouldn't engage in something like this on my blog, but considering that it's happening to a friend of mine, i felt i had an obligation to speak out. sorry for clogging up the tags/interrupting your scrolling 😭

tldr: @/hxveneru has stolen the works of my good friend @lowkeyren not once, but twice and is deleting any comments calling them out.

edit: they've changed their user to @/yneri; if you've blocked them already, this doesn't really matter bc they're still blocked :) reminder to not engage with them, they're just looking for attention. block and ignore!

i know. fun stuff. proof is under the cut.

please note that i'm doing this of my own accord, and the only involvement ren has had in this post is me asking for permission to post it since, well, it's an issue mainly affecting her.

also i should say beforehand but. don't ??? send them death threats please 😭 we are better than that. i'm mainly making this to spread awareness about the issue :)

reblogs are appreciated to spread awareness.

first stolen work is ren's oneshot "drunk words, sober thoughts!" for aventurine here.

as you can see, it was posted on June 15th, a little over two months before hxveneru posted their own oneshot.

for reference. hxveneru is a new blog and all of their posts are in the month of september, proven here via their archive.

and here's the two oneshots side by side, with ren's on the left and the stolen one on the right.

notice how the oneshots are exactly word-for-word except for the title and synopsis? even the author's note is exactly the same. obviously i can't fit the whole thing here, but this should be enough.

honestly it's. i have to laugh at the audacity to just copy and paste like hello???

and here's the second work that was copied, with hxveneru's "diff scenarios w hsr men" taking from drabbles from two of ren's works.

these are the two fics that were stolen from, with their dates attached. both are posted far before september. links are here and here if you want to double check..

now let's look at the drabbles that were - once again, copy and pasted. first is blade's, again with ren on the left and the stolen one on the right (ren's is circled bc they didn't take the hcs part).

and here is the sunday drabble that was stolen.

so far, those are the only works posted on their blog. i was also informed that they had apparently stolen from @/exuvianen's post here but deleted it, but since said post is deleted, we don't have evidence for that so take it with a grain of salt.

but yeah! just wanted to let yall know out there, especially since the plagiarized works have already gained some traction and have 100+ notes on them. i've talked about them vaguely on my blog before, so if this sounds familiar, yeah this is them.

plagiarism is shitty, i shouldn't have to say that. it is not that hard to just write your own stuff. i know validation and publicity make you feel good, but stealing someone else's hard work is not the way to go. writers already have enough to deal with. just don't do it. what's the point of getting validation if it's not even your work?

again, don't send death threats, please. that's a bit far, and they likely won't even do anything since the plagiarizer has already been called out before and this was their response.

not a single ounce of remorse or shame. people have gotten way too comfortable on here.

also "who the hell is ren anyway" bestie you blocked her 😭😭 and ignored her ask to you. that's why ren can't dm her to sort it out privately btw, in case you were wondering.

anyways! that's all i have to say, thanks for sticking around this long and have a great rest of your day. hxveneru if you see this. hi ig ?? id say smth to you but i doubt you'd take it seriously so i won't <3

[julik0vatay]

Dress up time! Let's skip a couple of centuries >>

+ Ramblings under the cut

This is sort-of kind-of "Good Route" idea so take this with a grain of salt ><

Beheaded aka Bobby -Adrenaline junkie -Underground fight rings and such -Does odd jobs and whatnot (Will do dirty jobs too but not everyone knows that. But in certain circles, well…) -Almost always on the move -Dresses like he has no money ever but can drop a bunch on random shiny like it's not a big deal (Justifies his fashion choices as "saving for something worth it") -Doesn't exactly fit with punks bc he's much more of an ass for that but agrees with their general ideas -ARSON!!! -Good with animals and monsters, can deescalate some situations (If he feels like it – which is definitely not always the case) -Always carries some weapon on him (Half of the time it's something ridiculous but he can make it work. Other times it's usual blades or smth fast and sharp) -Surprisingly good at listening (If something else doesn't catch his attention in the middle of conversation. Dissociation is still a thing) -Acts like an idiot, and surprises people when they learn he's anything but -Can and will fuck shit up, both for good reasons and not -When comes back home acts like funny uncle that will buy your junk to give you pocket money

Collector -Enormous private collection of odds and things, including big library. Everything thoughtfully catalogued. Some things are up for sale but not all of them and not to everyone. -Bigger lab, still full of hazardous substances and practices -Funds and participates in some research all the time (anonymously and not) -Occasionally builds some new things (both for work and just because he can) with help from Blacksmith -Doesn't talk about how he acquired all that, usually defaults to "results of family business" -Some people speculate if he's some sort of ex mafia boss hiding behind facade of good ol' doctor (Intern still calls him Boss, which doesn't help). Collector is not trying to correct that. Questionable reputation is still reputation. His fashion choices don't help with speculations either (If we're being honest it's probably on purpose. Front facade etc. That said wearing light lab coat would probably cause some level of personal crisis: "Look at me, dragged into light after literal ages in shadows, how the hell I got there") -Very annoyed that his desire to "Keep Things Professional" just doesn't seem to work on anyone around. One kid sort of worked on him and still comes back to visit, another crashed on his head demanding higher education, and then there's Beheaded who's never been a child but creates so much problems that it's 100% worse!

Intern (no other chosen names yet) -Still slightly short for their age, possibly grows slower thanks to malnourishment as a kid and then some questionable experiments as a teen (one Bobby tall). They did grow into their oversized hood tho! -Pursues academic career but many don't take them seriously thanks to their somewhat childish look. They're extremely annoyed by this. Collector is surprisingly sympathetic about that problem -Doesn't want to be a medical doctor, they had enough of this already -Argues with Collector over every single experiment result. Once they're past "academic role model" phase they'd start to question his judgement alot. Collector can give them alot of knowledge but he's not exactly a good teach and can be seen as pretty irrational. And it would take someone who he knows is on sameish level of understanding to challenge some of his scientific views. Which is a good thing! This is a stark contrast to how he started his research career - all alone with noone to question him (and balance out his manic tendencies, fixating on one thing and then abandoning it completely)

Guillain -Ex assistant/graveyard/junkyard jobs - unlike Intern doesn't mind the blood but not exactly interested in academic career. Still learned quite a bit from overhearing all that science talk -Fixing and selling random stuff, maybe with help from Blacksmith's apprentice? Opened his own tent shop? Or maybe even smth fancy like cart merchant? -Still hangs around and helps sometimes but now much more stable on his feet

[fandomfluffandfuck]

as someone obsessed with pussy steve, it drives me insane because i was doing my final exam today and all i was thinking about is "am i going to read the same pussy steve blog of S? yeah tf i am" and im here requesting from u some more pussy steve bc goddamn thats my obsessionnnnn. plus it's my first time asking u to write anything (i dont do shit but read things here and trying not fail school at the same time)

related to this pussy Steve ask

also... we're channeling this vibe shamelessly as we continue on from that last post, still set during WWII

Good job with your finals!! Let's dive in 👀

Steve can't fucking take it anymore, groaning as he flops back onto the squeaky, lumpy mattress that's supposed to be his bed. They've been holed up in this goddamn remote rubble city for what feels like years after clearing the town of HYDRA and Nazi agents with no action to burn off his excessive energy. The once standing city has long since been evacuated because of the air raids. The bombs have flattened almost half of it, shaking the other half immensely, but without orders to go elsewhere, the Howling Commandos are lying low, trying to plan their next move on their own. It feels like a waste just to march all the way back to camp but they don't have any other leads. Not yet.

And the Howlies have scavenged the area already, gathering any remaining, surviving food that isn't their shit MREs, plus having made sure no civilians were left behind before sitting down to talk and plan.

And talk and plan and talk and plan.

Steve can only strategize for so long, he can only play card games for so long, he can only draw on scraps of paper for so long; the serum has left him even more hot blooded than he was with all this vivacity he couldn't've dreamed of before, as thin and sickly as he was. So it's a fucking problem. Sitting still.

Waiting.

They should be doing something. Seeing action. Doing good. This is war. It feels so bizarre to sit between what they have just seen and what they're going to see. Bad things.

So, yeah, Steve is having a hard time unhelped by the fact that they're stuck in the one reliable structure that happens to be a small inn with thin walls. It's a blessing to have their own rooms and real beds, just enough rooms that they only have to pair up rather than sleeping in a dog pile together, but they might as well be together with these paper walls. Thus, Steve is being extra careful as he attempts to burn off some steam, alone while the others do... whatever... out in the main room (maybe a game of poker?) by stuffing the undershirt he's been wearing beneath his red white and blue uniform into his mouth.

The shirt tastes of salt and musk, balled up and packed between his teeth, filling his mouth, keeping his jaw open. Keeping the sounds he wants to make down. Most of the sounds. He can't help the sounds his body makes that don't come out of his mouth... wet, slick squelching sounds from between his legs, his fingers plunging deep into himself as if he's trying to get to his heart. In the scenario where he wanted to get off and be done with it, he'd be making tight, hard circles around his clit, pressing down against it hard, impatient and rough with himself, making himself a little raw with it but a lot sensitive--but that's not what he wants right now. He wants to burn through energy now. So, he has two fingers crooked inside his pussy, plunging them in and drawing them out slow enough that it makes him crazy. It's enough to feel good, so, so good, but not enough to get him off.

Steve's not wearing his uniform without the undershirt while he fingers himself. Well, he's not wearing it in full. He's kept his pants and boots on in case they need to get up and go, but... his pants are gaping open.

He's undone the long zip and aaall the latching buttons, ripping the taps as wide apart as he can get them without just taking his pants off. His hand shoved beneath both layers--pants and underwear.

His boxers are ruined. Wet. Soaked.

Registering just how sticky and wet he is, pulling his fingers out of his cunt to trace his puffy, swollen slit, he plays with his own wetness. He's dripping. He doesn't touch his aching clit directly, but he does put pressure on the legs of it, tracing the v down his vulva, spreading his legs wider, just a tiny bit, so his lips are out of the way as much as they can be, exposing himself, touching himself, and--

Choking on a whimper as electric pleasure shoots through him.

That's the closest he's let himself get to touching his clit in, in... however long it's been? An hour? Two? Ten minutes?

Steve doesn't let it last. Instead, blearily, he presses his middle and ring fingers back into himself. Back into the scorching, melted heat of his body. His foot kicks out, restless, needing something to do with the thick lust building inside him. Groaning softly through his shirt, Steve arches his neck, lifting his head off the bed just enough to let it come crashing back down heavily, giving his sweat-soaked blonde hair an impressively ruffled style.

As thoughts as he feels--his coherency consumed by pleasure--Steve suddenly flushes, wondering if Bucky will be able to smell it on him when he's done (if he doesn't already know what he's locked himself into their room to do). Once he's worn himself out, cumming on his own fingers after too much build up to be comfortable, leaving himself hurting with too much tension and desire, will Bucky know? Steve will button and zip up his pants and put his shirt back on and waltz back out there, but will it all be only for Bucky to corner him away from the other guys and maybe tip his chin up, fingers on his jaw, eye-to-eye, give him those dark eyes that say, I know what you did, maybe Bucky will kiss his neck and murmur to him hotly, or maybe he'll bend him over, their clothes still on, his cock a hot, thick line in his trousers, pressed against his slit, sweet talking him with his players voice, saying filthy things about how he can smell it on him like he's a bitch in heat with the most syrupy tone, crooning so Steve will get stickier, wetter, and gooey-er. Melted in the center like some kind of oozing, chocolate dessert. Hot and ready to be devoured.

Bitten.

Licked.

Swallowed.

Steve is thinking about his best guy's cock and he's thinking about his mouth, too, now. He's thinking about those sweet talking, wicked lips. He's thinking about his immaculately styled head of hair between his thighs, going to town. Not an ounce of reservation in the way he dives into him, in how he licks, how he slurps, how he fucks.

Jesus Christ.

Steve's jaw works around his balled up shirt, clenching. His throat contracts as he swallows thickly, praying that he doesn't wail like he wants to. The sound is in his chest, rattling around, building into this aching pressure. He can't fit anymore arousal inside himself. He's gonna burst.

Then, when he's weak and he just can't fucking stop himself, Bucky on his mind like always, Steve curls his fingers just enough to catch the raised spot inside him, spongy and sensitive. So fucking sensitive. His sweet spot that causes his hips to involuntarily buck up, searching for more, needing more. If he weren't gagged, he'd be moaning for it.

Moaning Bucky's name.

Bucky's on his mind already, so, of course, he wants Bucky on his tongue, too. Worse, he wants Bucky inside him. He wants him so bad that he's fucking aching, clenching around his fingers, hips squirming, toes curling, panting. He wants Bucky's cock in him so bad, slamming home so he's leaking around it, wetting his balls and smearing all over both of their thighs. He's a slippery mess.

He wants Bucky so bad that he has to stop thrusting his fingers in and out of his tight cunt to work a third finger into himself, chasing the girth of his dick. He can't get as deep as Bucky does, and it's just not the same to the point that, that--

Steve garbles out something of a sob. His eyes sting with tears. His head is so hot with frustration. Hazy and smoking. He can't think. He can't keep his rhythm. He's shaking.

Fuck.

When he pulls out to add another fingertip--stretching before he eases the entire length of his own finger in--he realizes he can smell himself. Already, he could smell himself wafting up from his unwashed shirt, sweaty, but now he can smell the hot, briny musk of his own arousal, carried on the sex-thick air of the quaint inn room. Humid and heavy.

He can smell himself. Sweat, musk, and leaking slick. It's an unmistable scent that turns Steve on more than it should, considering it's his own smell, twisting up in his gut and making him feel tighter, tenser, hotter. He can taste himself. Sweat, musk, and dirty, unwashed cotton coating his tongue, dripping down his throat, joining the lust already pooled low in his belly. He can hear himself. Slick, squelching, and lewd with his fingers curling inside himself. Muffled and drowning with sounds dying in the back of his throat before they have the chance to come out of his mouth. The soft snuffling, shuffling sounds of his pants folding and brushing against the bed sheets, fabric rustling and creaking as his thighs spread instinctively until the the seams groan. Every sound is another piece of wood added to the fire, burning hotter until it crackles and pops with the explosions of hot sap. Steve is feasting on these sensations as much as he's feasting on the slick, velvet feeling of the inside of his own pussy. He can touch himself. Smooth, wet inner walls that cling so tightly to his own fingers. If he could lift his head, the weight of his empty skull, so weakened, he could see himself, too--his hand moving in his pants, the veins running over his muscled forearms bulging with the effort of working his fingers so much.

God, he wants more in him.

His fingers work faster, curling a little harder, plunging deeper until he's erupting with another garbled cry.

He wants Bucky's cock in his pussy, throbbing with the pound of his best guy's heart, at the same time that he wants Bucky's thumb to sneak down between where their sweaty bodies collide with every frantic thrust, slicking the digit up with Steve's overpouring wetness until he reaches back, traces the sensitive, pink flesh between his legs to get to his asshole and pops it inside him, too, giving him something extra. Extra stuffing, his thumb in his ass, pressing back against his pussy. The thin wall between his holes. Giving him something more to clench down on while he wails, crashing over the edge as Bucky grinds so deep he can taste it, choke on it, so deep that his pelvis rubs on Steve's swollen clit and makes it impossible not to cum.

Guh.

Steve is drooling, soaking into his own shirt, thinking about Bucky.

Drowning in pleasure from his own hand.

Steve is rocking up into his hand, his hips with a mind of their own, or, rather, mindless in the pursuit of pleasure, instinctively rutting, humping, rolling, and just going. He's trying to swallow moans and gasps to varying degrees of success. He knows not all of them stay down in his tight, heaving chest, but he doesn't know how loud his noises are, his heartbeat is too loud in his ears.

Regardless of his noises, he keeps chasing his pleasure, his clit swollen and peaking out as much as it can from it's hood--leaving it vulnerable and draaagging just lightly against the heel of his hand. It's agonizing. With every feathered drag of his sensitive clit against his hand, it's making his sounds grow worse. He will be wailing soon no matter what he does. No matter how much he tries to keep it down.

It aches.

It hurts.

It feels sofuckinggood.

His jaw is working so hard that it feels like his teeth will rip into his shirt soon. Gah. Oh, ah, yeahh--

The temperature keeps going up and up in and all around Steve, fever hot, when the door swings open.

Steve is so tightly wound that he can't freeze. There is no way to stop the forest fire within him. It's going to have to come to its own conclusion when it has burned through everything he has, only ash left. Nothing can put him out.

So it's a damn good thing that it's Bucky that walks through the open door, hurriedly slamming it behind him when his eyes land on Steve's debauched, twitching form on the bed they've been sharing. A cold rush of air comes in with him, leaving all the hair on Steve's body to stand on end in salute. He quivers harder.

Bucky wastes no time. He is deadly, vicious in his pursuit--the sound of the door slamming hits Steve's ears, delayed with his mushy brain, and then Bucky is immediately on him like a predator pouncing.

His body is heavy on top of him, pinning him with the drag of his uniform against Steve's sensitive, sweat-glistening skin.

Real.

He's so real that it's visceral. It's not just Steve's heated, out-of-control fantasies as he approaches his orgasm without breaks.

Bucky cages him in with his body, one of his hands planted by Steve's head, steadying himself, while his other hand grabs ahold of Steve's forearm to rip his hand out of his pants.

Steve does wail then, through his makeshift gag.

The look on Bucky's face is evil, mocking him playfully, asking, oh, really, is that how it is?

After all these years, they read each other like open books. Steve knows he knows how turned on he is, and it's devastating. Bucky probably knows just based on how much he's blushing and how he can't keep his eyes open, how long he's been going at it for. He knows how much it aches to be untouched when he gets like this. Especially now. Post-serum. It's all he can think about. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his pussy. He's hot and swollen and so wet that it brings stinging tears to his eyes. God.

He's so fucking needy.

He needs Bucky. He needs--

Bucky sticks both of Steve's hands above his head, crossed at the wrist, and uses one of his own to pin them there. Steve could easily break away any time, but now. He's so worn down. He's weak. His brain has gone out of his head, and all of his super-strength has drained from his body out of his weeping cunt. He's depleted. He can do nothing by lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as Bucky shoves and pushes and shimmies his pants and underwear down. He barely gets them halfway down his thighs before he stops, and because of it, Steve sucks in a sharp breath through his balled up shirt. The air of the room is shocking against his soaked, sticky center.

Guh.

GUH!

Steve makes a fucking stupid sound when Bucky quits messing with his tangled up pants to instead mess with his pussy. He slips one, then two, then three inside him. Fast. A predator tearing through prey, no time to think, just do. His shit eating grin tells Steve that he's impressed with how sloppy he's gotten himself, and he wants to cry in embarrassment but also pride.

With three fingers inside him, Bucky curls them and grinds them deeper, deeper, curls, deep, curl, deep--

Steve's head is spinning. He doesn't even know what Bucky is doing to him. It just, it, it, ohgod, his eyes roll back so far, so hard it hurts, it feels so good. It's wrecking him. Whatever he's doing to him. Maybe it's Bucky's reckless thirst for him. Maybe it's the serum burning like venom in his veins. Maybe it's both of them mixing together into one harsh cocktail, so intoxicating it immediately makes him drunk.

The things Bucky is doing to his body make Steve want to shriek in pleasure. He's letting go of his wrists but it's not like Steve can move anyway and it's for good reason that he's not pinning him anymore because instead he's pressing down on his belly with that hand as he curls his fingers more, more, more, curling them towards himself hard, pressing so hard on that spot inside him that Steve doesn't even, he's not even sure he can comprehend the pleasure cutting through him, it's so much pressure building up inside him, taking more space than he realized he had even inside this bigger, stronger body, he can't, he's not strong enough, he--

Steve gasps and squirms, not understanding, wanting to babble, oh, oh, Bucky, what-I, I'm-! Wait! What is that feeling? Why does it feel like that? Wh--he can't, though, he can't say anything, his mouth stuffed.

He screams behind his teeth and--

Steve fucking whites out.

He's there one minute and then he's gone in a flash. Too much pleasure. Too much pressure. Too good. He's half convinced, totally out of his mind, that he's exploded or, or...

Oh.

As Steve returns to himself in bits and pieces, still shattered in the aftermath, he's almost sure he's lost so much control of himself that he's pissed himself. He's so fucking wet. Soaked down his thighs and down Bucky's wrist. If he has pissed himself, then he's given everything up to Bucky, his body entirely his lover's, every part of it, but then.

JesusfuckingChrist.

Then, Bucky's voice breaks through the ringing in his ears, and he's softly, quietly purring to him, mindful of their thin walls in a way Steve has not been while being stripped down to the bone in exhausting, overwhelming pleasure. Bucky's voice is all low and hot, too turned on as he works Steve through it, touching him much softer, nicer, lighter while he tells him how fucking hot that was, watching him, feeling him squirt around his fingers. And, holy shit, he's gonna make him do that on his dick. He will.

It's a promise.

Now that he knows he can make Steve squirt, he's gonna do it all. the. fucking. time.

Steve whines through his gag, his body trembling hard with his fading fever. Oh. It hits like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. He's going to die. Bucky is gonna kill him, making him squirt, making him writhe, making him want to crawl out of his own body, giving him too much gutteral, visceral pleasure.

Bonus:

I've had a draft sitting here on Tumblr for a while that simply says:

Lil pussy Steve domming big, beefy Bucky. Steve's wearing a pair of panties to a party, getting them messy in a closet or bathroom or... both... where Bucky fingers him until he cums, then, once they've finished and Steve is desperately wet, he makes Bucky put swap underwear with him. Bucky obeys because of course he's done--he's big and he falls hard. Steve's wet, dirty panties, though, they're much too tight and remind him for the next few hours (hours that Steve, the introvert, suspiciously makes them stick around the party for) exactly of what they did. How he made his dom squirt and make these panties wet and smell musky and hot like his pussy does. Ruin them. Ruining the panties, ruining Bucky.

Plus, the whole rest of the party, Bucky has to live with the fact that Steve doesn't have any underwear on because rather than put Bucky's boxers on, he shoved them into his pocket where he could take them out at any time. Fuck, they could fall out at any moment! Bucky can't focus on a single fucking conversation.

And it's not until they get home that Bucky gets to cum.

When they're finally, finally home, Steve pushes Bucky down onto the floor, mounts his lap, and grinds into his hard, hard cock bursting out of his teeny-tiny, too-tight panties. The underwear is so little and delicate, all wet lace, that Bucky nearly ripped them putting on his bigger body. Demanding him to cum and ruin them further, one of Steve's thin, bony hands constricts around his throat.

Oh, yeah, he owns this big, subby mess of a man.

So... do with that what you will 😏

[oldangryslytherin]

HWY MOOTIEEE can I ask about warrior harry and tom 👀👀👀 I hope you're having a great day !!!

MOOOTIEEEE 💕

I don't have much on it because it was really far down on my docs and I forgot about it (I have to come back to it bc omg?) but I had this:

draft

Their bronze greaves catch the sinking sun. Harry wipes sweat from his temple with the back of his hand, grinning at Tom across the packed dirt. “You’re slower today,” Harry calls, rolling his shoulders, his sword balanced lazy across his palm. “Did the great Riddle tire himself out?” Tom laughs. He pushes a lock of dark hair off his brow and tucks it behind his ear, his eyes never leaving Harry’s mouth. “I can go for hours. Would you like to test the theory?” Harry circles him. The dust curls up at their feet, disturbed by leather sandals and the promise of violence. “Right now?" Duel him with no one there "Not your style. You want an audience to worship you while you do it.”

There's a twinkle in his eyes that he can't miss. “Dont be shy, I'll be soft to you.” He bares his teeth—smiling or snarling, not even he knows—and lunges. The swords clash with a metallic hiss. Tom parries, twists, and slips aside so close Harry smells him: sweat, oil, and the copper tang of old blood. Harry feints high and kicks low, nearly takes Tom’s knee out; Tom retaliates with an elbow to the ribs that knocks Harry’s breath out in a laugh. “Don't know how you're the best of your kingdom. It doesn't impress me,” Harry taunts between shallow breaths, sword dancing. “All flourish, no teeth.” Tom’s smirk is all cruelty and promise. “I’ve teeth enough. Come closer—I’ll show you.” Harry does. He means to catch Tom off balance but miscalculates and Tom catches him instead: a swift pivot, a knee behind Harry’s thigh, a hand in his hair. Suddenly Harry’s back bows, his own blade knocked from his grip, and Tom’s sword slides cold under his chin, pressing to the soft pulse above his collarbone. He feels Tom’s chest against his spine and the smile at his ear. “Yield.” Harry laughs, low and reckless, though his pulse drums mad under the steel. “Never to you.” Tom hums approval, voice silk wrapped around a dagger’s edge. His mouth brushes the curve where Harry’s jaw meets his throat. The scrape of teeth makes Harry shiver. “Liar,” Tom whispers, and kisses the line of Harry’s neck—slow, possessive, open-mouthed just below his ear, tasting salt and defiance. Harry swallows, the sword under his chin shifting with the motion. He hates how soft his voice goes when he says it... “Do it again.” Tom does.

That's all I have.

It's very important to me that you imagine harry with meaty thighs and a big chest because the art I have seen of ody wow. Like look up ximenas art in this case

That's what happens when I see art of Odysseus and Diomedes but I'm unable to read the Iliad (sadly I got it in English and it's imposible my brain won't focus. Maybe I'll get it in Spanish and ty again)

[jacquesthepigeon]

I just assume Adrien and Amelie constantly view Emilie with rose tinted lenses and she was actually extremely vain and manipulative.

Like. She gives that whole speech in season 5 about how Gabriel and Nathalie need to let her go or whatever but she's also perfectly fine with how absolutely obsessed they both are with her. And how Adrien was treated by them growing up (constantly neglected in favor of Emilie the GROWN WOMAN WHO MADE HER OWN BED AND HAS TO LIE IN IT).

Also in S5, Amelie can't believe her sweet loving sister (who repeatedly not only left Amelie in abusive situations but also *actively made things worse for her*) would choose to marry a man like Gabriel- she simply assumes there must be another side of him that she never gets to see, and Felix takes it upon himself to disprove that. Which raises the exact same question: what kind of woman would marry that kind of man?

I agree with you but don’t have the brain juice to write out my thoughts rn. I’ve said it before so just pretend I linked my past posts on the subject here. If you want to actually read those posts but my lack of maintenance of the tag system being practically nonexistent for the past two years is stopping you, I recommend you light six non scented candles, draw metatron’s cube with iodized salt (vaseline or syrup may help it stick to the floor in shape in case of light breezes threatening the shape’s integrity) and place a candle in each of the outer circles, fill up a large glass bowl with distilled water (to guarantee purity) and let it sit under the full moon as you sit in the center of metatron’s cube and chant “que el espíritu hater me guíe” over and over again until sunrise, by which point will have ideally been awake almost a full 24 hours, be sore from not changing positions all night long, and be starving bc you didn’t get to eat throughout the three hour prep and the ritual itself. These are all factors that will contribute to the delirium that will serve as medium for my Message; the more hysterical u r the better. You must then proceed to astral project to a version of severus snape (snape wives have left detailed tutorials on how to do so) and engage in physical combat with him. Don’t defeat him too quickly and make sure to get him talking as he will be relaying my post in a mocking manner bc I’m pretty sure he has no taste. Ignore the tone but listen to the words, for they are mine. Also kick his ass to defend my honor once he’s done repeating my nonsense. You will awaken disoriented but fear not, grab the bowl of moon-powered water and use it to bathe yourself head to toe, physically freshening you up while also wiping away the mental grime and leaving you with just the clarity of my Message.

I could’ve also just searched for one of the posts myself in the time it took me to make up that entire ritual but I’m too deep into the bit now

Good luck on the astral plane soldier 🫡

[yuudamari]

Thank you to the person who just pointed out a bunch of details in my ten of sword yjh piece. Rambling about both that one and kdjs pieces in a read more for those who want to know

I put a lot of thought into it but it did very poorly compared to its matching piece (star card kdj) and i have always been a bit sad about it.

• Ten of swords is such a yjh tarot card i think about it so often. For those who dont know much about tarot readings heres some cool keywords about it in readings and youll see what i mean

• Im obviously not that knowledgable about tarot cards and resdings, ive always been obsessed w the imagery and meanings of it but not so much into how it works in a reading so take it all with a grain of salt, obviously. Bte another great card for yjh is the fool imo. Not for its meanings but bc the journey starts with the fool

• His hands are reaching to the 9 and the 1 , for Salvation (you know, same word-number play as 9158 but eithout the 58 ) so hes reaching for it , signifying both his salvation and him reaching for Kdj, too.

• Theres actually 7 swords a d 3 hands of the clock. This has no meaning i just coukdnt fit ten swords in that formation and i had run throigh many thumbnals and i just gave up. Sometimes i think i should redraw this card, i am not a Huge fun of the blue lineart either but kdjs was red so ! I wanted to do red and blue!!! Whatever!!!!

As for kdjs Star tarot card while im at it

• Obviously kdj is the star, theres no need to explain much

Another really great card for kdj is The Magician! Its probably even better for kdj as a whole but in here i wanted to portray more his figure as demon king of salvation so i thoight the star fit more also because hes a constellation

• The position of his hands and the pose theyre in are religious imagery, specifically catholic imagery. The hand he has raised means Speaker, someone who was about to say something important, youll see this in a lot of paintings w jesus or his disciples

• the open palm signifies trust and sincerity, but its usually upright. Here i put it down instead of up a bit of a play with tarot too, with the wholr "reverse" of a card meaning mostly the contrary of its upright meaning. So in this case its meant to represent kim dokjas lies to his companions despite being a ""holy"" figure.

• rays coming out of the circle behind his head (or his halo) in one side of the painting are both for composition purposes and bc of 49/51. Sadly uts not exacy 49/51 its the middle ppint of the piece but moving it slightly pissed me off so!!! This will do.

[roadyblr]

OKAY, 1 IVE NEVER SEEN THOSE PICTURES THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH FOR YOUR SERVICES AHWPASJQOIWS

(me bc I only blush at pictures of idols. no actually)

IVE NEVER SEEN MY MAN SO BEAUTIFUL BEFOREEE!! HE LOOKS SO MAJESTICC

(I'm so happy I just started a cat pin board on Pinterest. waiting for it to say yechan when I start on my cat saving spree)

im so sad about the watermarks:((( what are those even for???

luv ya!! <333

GLAD TO BE OF SERVICE i had to share with someone and you gave me the perfect opportunity

yechan is very cat coded the venn diagram is a circle on that one ("little guy syndrom™" i whisper)

a lot of fansites do that for credit purposes! unless you mean the boxes in which case thats usually there before they get cleaned up and posted (take this with a grain of salt im using context clues idk how fansites work)

[redheadlesbianfreak]

jumping in with my 2¢ on Zestiria bc I definitely think it's worth a shot!!

It has its flaws, but I think both the ppl who put the alleged queer subtext on a pedestal AND the ppl who complain that the whole game etc is terrible are both exaggerating

imo a lot of the hate it got was exacerbated by it not meeting ppl's expectations, so anything that COULD be complained abt was complained abt excessively (i wasn't there at release and avoid larger tales circles that recycle that complaining whenever it's brought up so grain of salt with that)

As for the queer subtext.. think abt a shonen anime with two male characters that are Ultimate Friends or the like. It's abt as much 'intentional queer subtext' as that (tho i wouldn't downplay the importance/impact of Sorey and Mikleo's relationship in the game based on that)

In any case, it's just a game that happens to be noticeably imperfect. I remember during the tutorial section saying "this kinda sucks, I'll play it just to say I played it" (since im a bit of a tales game completionist), then I ended up loving it and immediately replayed the whole game ajdksk and now it's one of my favorites ✨

[also just a tip if you haven't heard!! Except for some big main story ones, skits are locked to save points and inns. if you wanna see as many as possible, I recommend always checking save points and staying at each new inn repeatedly as soon as you arrive until you don't get a skit. Also keep in mind that quests and story beats may unlock new ones, so check back at inns frequently!

I missed so many skits my first playthrough bc I didn't realize how many inn skits there were ;w;]

anyway, I hope you like the game!! and that I didn't accidentally make it sound worse sjxkd

No, you didn't make it sound worse at all! You actually made me really want to play it now, or at the very least, I'm super curious to try it out for myself! I think that I'm going to get it during the Steam summer sale so I won't have to pay $50 for it. Thank you for being honest about the flaws and the strengths! And thank you for the tips!

Honestly, Tales of Symphonia is my all-time favorite game. And I KNOW that it's flawed, so I am absolutely willing to overlook flaws in a game.

[fetteredhope]

—— ( geraldine viswanathan. cis woman, she/her. ) recently seen serving at diner 54: enter ROBIN ELODIE SHRIKE. twenty-eight years old & a capricorn, usually observed in graphic t-shirts, leather jackets, and oversized cargos ; robin is a devotion local known within their circle as COMPOSED + NURTURING, a perpetual hum of me by the 1975 on salted mouth. something of the AFFECTLESS + FICKLE follows, regardless … something to do with working dead end jobs, because who really cares in the end, perhaps ? strange, what a HUMAN can get up to. they’ve been heard waxing lyrical about a dream they had recently, a strange tale of a familiar laugh, but there’s an echo that leaves the room feeling cold. it’s hollow and forced, but she’ll take what she can get. pay no mind to fanciful star - gazing, though: rather, mind the tangible. focus on rolling her eyes at her favourite twinks despite how much she actually loves them, flipping off customers the second they try it with her, dark lipstick; dark eyeshadow; dark attire. / committed to legend by bri, twenty6, they/she, est.

below are mentions of chronic illness & hospitalization!

stats.

name: robin elodie shrike.

nickname: rob, robby.

age: twenty eight.

gender identity: cis woman.

pronouns: she/her.

sexuality: lesbian.

birthday: january 15, 1995.

star sign: capricorn.

myer-briggs: intp.

occupation: waitress at diner 54.

place of birth: devotion, south of tene.

last played on spotify: until the night turns by lord huron.

general disposition: indifferent and judgmental.

background.

the youngest of two older brothers, robin came into the world loudly and aggressively, and it was merely a precursor to how she’d always read

life growing up wasn’t horrible, her parents were loving and their family had money - mum being the owner of a massive publishing company and dad being a big name editor, also the owners of shrike point light library

however it felt as if they were never satisfied, always pushing for more even when their kids were at the top of their classes and heavily involved in as many extracurriculars as they could

it eventually mottled her relationship with her brothers - she was always close with the oldest shrike kid josef, but malcolm had a bad case of middle child syndrome and distanced himself entirely, from their parents and definitely from josef, who was the best of them in their parents eyes

robin herself didn’t purposely act out - she just stopped caring……… academics to her came with ease, she was lucky to be naturally very smart, but she felt no desire to ever challenge herself in her extracurriculars and classes the way her parents wanted her to

she graduated high school and… that was basically it, she never tried to go to university, wrinkled her nose at the idea of taking community college classes as a pass time, she was just done and though her parents hated it, she was free of their judgment

she’s been working at diner 54 for 10 years now - while robin’s free, she feels the opposite of stuck; she loves devotion and plans on staying there for as long as she lives, with her rag tag somewhat dysfunctional group of friends she’s had since she was little

thought it felt like nothing was happening for her, robin didn’t mind it at all; she would give anything to go back to those days before josef fell incredibly sick - a lung infection that resulted in a transplant, which seemed like the worst of it, until his body began to reject the transplant and he’s been in hospital ever since

details.

when she’s not at work, robin’s either in a dingy bar with her friends or at the hospital visiting josef - she has her own cot permanently left in his room for when she has to serve late into the night and visiting hours are technically over

a big reader!!!! ig it runs in the family fr

the epitome of grunge/punk kid

is secretly quite loving and she does make it known with friends but she’s openly sneered in customers faces before if they were rude to her or even bc she thought their dinner orders were Ass

as a human she’s incredibly intrigued and fascinated with the devotion creatures, especially witches of which a lot of her friends are

she can be a bit selfish in her requests and demands sometimes but she just wants to watch people use their powers its cool ok.

is the lesbian mom to her fav twinks around town that she protects like they’re her own children

connections.

needs roommates pls, at least 2!!!

bffs/childhood friends

ppl who work at diner 54 with her!!

someone added to her twink collection :) 

exes!! that ended on good and bad terms

hook ups/fwbs

someone she knows thru her brothers/grew up with them/family friends etc.

anything n everything teehee

[lockedtowers]

anyways fun time to remember at one point dean (and s/am ig) left cassie alone while working on a case and she tried to help only to trap herself in a salt circle bc she thought her witch status meant she could use those and didnt know it keeps fae locked in so when dean finally got back home his gf was just on the floor stuck in a salt circle of her own making

[mutable-manifestation]

#the worm fan in me would love to try to make this a worm crossover#but idk what character would work that well#danny phantom crossover prompt#dp crossover prompt#danny phantom crossover#dp crossover#dpxdc#dp x dc

Very early days Vista could be a goldmine.

She somehow sneaks into teleport range to go help at an Endbringer battle and ends up getting kidnapped by a Fallen group that happened to be in the area, got pissed when they saw her give some heavy hitter a clear shot, and couldn't help but noticed she was all alone and without a handy-dandy teamwork bracelet (bc sneaky) and decided "hey, free sacrifice!"

A cape really is the best option for a sacrifice, they decide. And one so strong! My, how very fortuitous.

The branch she's with has Master who can do simple vocal commands, so a quick "hey kid, don't use your powers, don't make any noise, and follow me (and later: "sit in the middle of the huge, bloody salt circle) et voila.

They don't bother with subtlety. They're The Fallen, people know what they're about - and she's gong to be dead soon anyway - so who cares if she learns about the ritual that may allow them to summon a fourth Endbringer.

So she's sits there, fuming and terrified while a good dozen or more villainous capes chant ominously around her.

It's awful enough knowing they'll either kill or brainwash her after their insane attempt inevitably fails.

It's worse, she decides, when the ritual begins to work.

The blood disappears into the salt and the whole things begins to glow a soft, neon green even as a cool mist slithers across the ground around there ankles - just thin enough to see through easily.

Tiny specks of light in every color bloom into being all over the room at waist height, and she can almost make out a sort of swirling pattern.

It would almost be beautiful if not for the kidnapping part of the situation.

And the clear delighted awe that lights every one of the Fallen's faces even as they continue their chant.

And the oppressive sense of other that has her hindbrain screaming at her to freeze, don't move, don't breathe, don't let it notice you you are but a speck you will not survive.

For the first time since she joined the Wards, she feels every bit the tiny child that everyone insists on treating her as.

Then a being appears in the circle above her, and, contrary to expectation, the oppressive feeling disappears.

The "Endbringer" looks like a teenager. White hair, eyes the same color as the salt circle now was, a sea of freckles that reminded her of the galaxy of the lights - which had sunk into the fog around their ankles when he appeared - and simple black and white body suit with a weird-looking "D" on the chest.

He looks like he could be any cape with a Changer aspect to their power. Or the mildest Case 53 she'd ever seen.

Then he looks at her first and, despite the oppressive feeling disappearing, she's horrified.

The ritual was meant to summon an Endbringer. And here was someone or something brought forth by the ritual.

The ritual for which she was provided as a sacrifice.

And she can't do anything. Can't run. Can't fight.

She can't even open her mouth to scream.

And then he turns to The Fallen and says something in that same strange chant language.

Whatever they say in return, it clearly makes him very unhappy judging by the way his expression instantly twists fury and disgust.

He doesn't bother responding, instead slamming down onto the floor like he'd finally decided to allow gravity to remember he existed and causing pillars of ice to shoot out in a circle around them, slamming most of The Fallen far away to bounce off of or dent the walls of the large room.

Two people get right back up - Brutes, Vista guesses - but that the last she sees of them before she's tackle through the floor by the possible-Endbringer.

And then they're away, shooting through solid earth without touching any of it before eventually breaking into air to fly high above the ground.

In the sky, all she can see of him - and herself - is a faint outline.

Eventually, the possible-Endbringer stops and says things at her in that weird language.

Then.

"Right. Sacrifice. You probably don't speak that. Uh, can you understand English?"

Vista doesn't not move or speak, still trapped in the sway of a Master power.

With a vague feeling of horror, she wonders if it's permanent.

Wonders if she'll be alive long enough for that to matter.

Oh sure, he doesn't look like an Endbringer, but neither had the Simurgh before the world learned better.

Thankfully for her nerves, he decides to continuing in English, awkwardly introducing himself as Danny and voicing hopes that she can at least understand him even if she can't respond.

He promises to do his best to get her back to her home, and she wonders what could be next after the Hopekiller. The Trustkiller, maybe?

They talk off again, flying in silence for some undetermined amount of time, and it's only when they can finally see a city in the distance that Vista feels all of her muscle untense at once.

She sucks in a harsh breath - the first breath she's made under her own power in at least hours at this point - and Danny takes that as his cue to land.

She's grateful for it for several reasons, the most immediate being her sudden and intense need to evacuate her stomach.

He holds her hair for her, and rubs soothing circles on her back.

"It's okay," he says softly. "You're safe. You're okay. You made it out. You're out, and free, and you managed to keep it together until you were safe. You did great, you're safe now."

She wants to be angry, being talked at like some kind of baby, but she can't bring herself to feel anything but relief as she flexes her powers to put distance between herself and the...and what was left of last night's dinner.

She could put distance between herself and "Danny" too if she only twisted a bit to break the contact and get enough space between them to work with.

Except.

This "guy" could actually be an Endbringer.

She hopes he's not doesn't think he's an Endbringer, but she will treat him with every ounce of caution she has until proven otherwise. And as a cape, as a hero, that means she needs to be certain before she goes...letting him into civilization to maybe hurt people.

(The fact that helping discover a fourth Endbringer before it brings a horrible disaster might help her avoid getting in trouble now that they definitely knows she's missing is irrelevant. Mostly).

aaaaand idk how to really take the scene from here and I'm tired so : New Perspective time

***

Back in Brockton Bay, Vista's parents reported her missing the second she wasn't in bed when they woke up.

As a Ward, there is no "wait time before you can be considered missing," so the PRT get people to searching immediately.

It takes a day and a half to find the strange blur on a camera that makes them suspect she snuck into the Endbringer battle, and footage from the staging area proved them right.

There's a mixed sentiment of "she's not dead until we find a body" and "she's totally dead and there might not even be a body left to find." Which opens up room for all sorts of interpersonal drama.

Her parents are already grieving hard - both of them are in the "our poor baby is dead *sobbing*" camp.

Quite the opposite to the usual outcome, the death of their child is what makes them mend their relationship. Because she always hated their fights and how they never seemed to get along anymore and maybe if they'd tried a little harder she wouldn't have run off.

It's their fault, they know, because she had a habit of running away from home, and she'd made it very clear that it was their faults she was leaving.

They'd dismissed it as childish tantrums.

They'd take her as seriously as she wanted if she would only come back, they mourn, vowing to be better towards each other in her memory.

So that'll be an interesting thing to come back to.

DP X DC Prompt

Danny gets summoned by a cult.

again.

Unfortunately, this time they tried to give him a sacrifice in the form of a small child.

Fortunately, the kid is still alive at that point in the summoning since the cult was operating under the assumption that he wanted to eat them alive or something (which. gross! but useful for him at least).

They make it out of the area that the summoning took place in pretty easily, but now they have to do a cross country trip in order to get the kid back to their family while trying not to draw the cults attention (which they already did once after attempting to contact the kid's guardian in a nearby town)

in the meantime though, this kid is acting pretty sketchy...

aka the cult accidentally (or even purposefully) used a kid that's related to a cape in one fashion or another and now said child is on a cross-country trip with a being of unknown ethics and abilities.

who are they and what do they do?

[meowzfordayz]

slow eater

Author’s Note: this is SO LONG. 😅 Idea for this came to me while eating brunch today bc HeLp my appetite and eating speed are small and slow and laughable. Also… HeLp again bc there are so many Hashira ?? 😭

slow eater

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~2,700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content, mild violence, traumatic references

~faqs~

Gyomei’s a sweetheart With excellent time management Plans his meals to line up with either the beginning or end of yours —He initially approached you, very respectfully, with a proposal for mealtimes “Would you prefer to have my company for the first or last hour of your meals?” You almost teasingly responded, “Neither.” But you figured he would cry before he could recognize your playful tone So you opted for, “Whichever is most convenient for you” It’s helpful when he joins you at the beginning Because you miss him as soon as he’s gone And eat hurriedly to be able to go find him But you love when he joins you at the end You’ve generally resigned yourself to foods naturally eaten at room temperature Dumplings don’t stay hot Ice cream melts to soup And you wish you could enjoy a full cup of tea that actually scalds your tongue But, alas You can’t Anyway When he joins you at the end He’ll often bring a warm addition for your meal A flaky pastry Or a tiny bowl of ramen broth Bite sized Gulp sized —You don’t talk much over meals Don’t talk with your mouth full? More like can’t talk with your mouth full. More talking = less eating, and less eating = more time wasted Okay, okay not wasted But like, people have things to do, places to be, things to see And Gyomei isn’t just “people” He’s a Hashira! So like Things to do, places to be, things to see x 1 million Your unspoken compromise is he doesn’t eat with you very much So when he does He, his time, his energy, his focus It’s all yours Only yours But you still don’t talk much over meals Because when you first started eating together

Before he came up with his proposal; before your unspoken compromise

There were multiple occasions where you finished lunch… And then it was time for dinner

You snooze, you lose He doesn’t wait for you —Ever That being said, he does check in on you Typically you take 2-3 hours If you take less, then he worries If you take more, then he worries Which is why he checks in on you When you eat faster than anticipated, he swoops in and hassles you “Are you feeling okay?” “Did you forget to eat yesterday?” “Did you like that meal?” he’s already memorized the recipe, just in case And when you eat slower? You’ve either fallen asleep Or are plaintively pushing the lingering tidbits of your meal around “Did I give you too much?” He has yet to stumble upon the perfect [y/n] serving size “Does it taste awful?” One time he mixed up salt and sugar “What’s going on?” This question he’ll ask quietly His trademark strictness mellowed by genuine concern Sometimes it’s something silly “I lost track of time winning an argument against Tomioka-san” … in your head, that is But other times, it’s serious He’ll stare hyper focused on the tears shimmering in your eyes And spring into action Food? Saved for later Dishes? Cleared You? In his arms, breathing shakily “I’m here,” he’ll rub your hip in gentle circles “I’m here…” he’ll murmur into your shoulder And gradually, you tell him Sometimes it’s waking up with the weight of death clinging to your shadow Other times it’s struggling to get through the day without thinking, without missing, past companions He understands All Too Well (Taylor’s Version) He listens He knows Harshness has no place when it comes to matters of your heart

Sit down meals? —Nah Mitsuri insists on feeding you on the go You feel childish walking around beside her as she carries “[y/n]-chan’s splendid lunchbox!” But she’s quick to shush you “I can’t sit and eat from daybreak to day’s end,” she reminds you fondly “Yet I selfishly want you with me,” you blush at her forwardness “So let me be with you!” You acquiesce Not that you have much of a choice You’re totally enamored And like, totally aware that your slow eating isn’t her fault It’s merely a symptom/side effect/unfortunate reality of loving you Which means [y/n]-chan’s splendid lunchbox? —Becomes a known entity Gyomei sniffles the first time he spies Mitsuri feeding you, “So cute. So considerate!” Obanai snorts, “I guess that’s one solution.” Shinobu asks Mitsuri where she got the lunchbox, “Perhaps we could supply the corps with them? They seem much more effective than bundles and wraps.” Mitsuri’s glare is unexpected This splendid lunchbox is [y/n]-chan’s! Shinobu doesn’t ask again Kyojuro laughs heartily in approval, “Splendid indeed!” While Sanemi makes gagging noises, “Pathetic.” Mitsuri leaves a warranted bruise on his shoulder for that Muichiro doesn’t quite get it, but nods regardless And Giyuu hardly quirks an eyebrow, gesturing indifferently, “How nice of you.” “You call that a FLASHY lunchbox?” Tengen exclaims You don’t care how confident that man is You take one glance at Mitsuri Clutching your splendid lunchbox embarrassedly And you stomp over to Mr. Flashy-Flamboyant-Obnoxious-Hunk-of-Man “Uzui. Tengen. My lunchbox is flashier than any gift you could ever dream of giving. That lunchbox? Is Kanroji-sama’s affection, compassion, and generosity all in one,” you exhale menacingly, “And you WILL apologize”. Mitsuri squeaks Tengen squeaks You saunter back to Mitsuri and gently pat her cheek “Mitsuri-san? I’m hungry.” Wordlessly, blushing rose from the tips of her toes to the tip of her nose, she opens your splendid lunchbox and feeds you some leftover fried unagi

She’s super smart Extremely intelligent Figured out how to circumvent your slow eating from day 1 How? Lots of SMALL meals Breakfast, lunch, and dinner aren’t a thing with you Nope, nope, nope With you it’s: —good morning munch —2 hours later snack —midday assortment —2 hours later hanger soothe —dinner tasting menu —before bedtime last call Alternatively, imagine all the meals the hobbits from LOTR eat; i.e. second breakfast She doesn’t care how you eat when she’s not around But she lovingly refuses to attempt any semblance of a proper meal when you’re together And tbh, you’ve completely switched to the small meals model Because suddenly, you’ve found yourself with so much more TIME Time to wash laundry after dinner before bed Versus having to wake up asscrack early to squeeze it in before breakfast Time to fit in an extra sparring round before lunch Versus bowing out early because you know if you don’t start eating lunch soon, then your day’s plan is screwed Hmm Maybe you’ll use some of your newfound time to handmake Shinobu something for her birthday… After all, she’s the reason you even have the time!

Doesn’t faze him Really he doesn’t mind Mostly because: if you’re eating, then he’s eating Proportions don’t exist He thinks he’s super sneaky He’s not He’s super thoughtful though! Decided long ago when he realized you take basically forever to never leave you alone Cafe, restaurant, food stall, your place, his place, anyone’s place Wherever He stops when you stop Doesn’t want you to fixate on how much time has passed Just wants you to feel at ease  And full And satisfied —In fact He’d love to eat with you a lot more than he does But eating with you is, ngl, expensive ?? Because like, he eats for as long as you eat And he eats p fast So that’s A LOT of food And yeah, he’s a Hashira Unlimited salary But he doesn’t like to think of himself as a glutton Absolutely not Kyojuro’s a gentleman fo shizzle Waiting ever so kindly for you Umai! P.S. The one time he rushed you resulted in a lot of burping and moaning about not feeling well Never again He’d rather grow a few grey hairs than hear any hint of discomfort in your voice

You’re so so so speedy when it comes to Everything else? So Sanemi was in for a rude awakening when he finally ate one-on-one with you Like All the previous times he thought he wanted to strangle you? Those were simply… A result of his simmering, growing, uncomfortably undeniable love for you  He’s acknowledged and addressed and yada yada that love since then Believed he was good to go No more strangulation impulses

Correction: now they’re purely sexual But FOR FUCK’S SAKE —How does he tell you he never wants to eat with you one-on-one again without breaking your stupid heart and feeling like an idiot dickhead? “Why do ya eat normally with everyone else?”  Might as well start somewhere “What?” you’re not offended Just, confused Sanemi is the opposite of a small talk person ?? I am not an asshole. This is a reasonable question to ask. I am not an asshole. I am not an… “You eat normally with everyone else, and then we sit down to eat, just the two of us, and ya eat slower than someone without any fucking teeth.” Deer in headlights You’re even more confused, and also now a little offended “You’re the crankiest, most restless man, since like, cranky and restless came into being, so I don’t think your opinion counts,” you snap He’s seething “AT LEAST I WON’T DIE FROM OLD AGE WITHOUT EVEN FINISHING MY BOWL OF UDON.” —You’re unimpressed “Nemi.” Phew. If they’re using my nickname, then they can’t be too pissed… “You’re going to scream in pain when I stab your eyeballs out with my chopsticks because apparently I can’t even eat in peace without riling you up.” You smile pleasantly “But I certainly won’t kill you, because then who would stay with me while I eat?” Sanemi’s very proud of how his hands don’t move even slightly toward your neck “Compromise.” You gasp in feigned delight, “Are you asking me to define that word for you, or are you using it?” He snarls, “Compromise.” “What’s your compromise, Nemi?” “I will eat with you, just us, from time to time. But I get to choose when, where, and what.” “Not good enough Nemi,” you singsong … He carefully tackles you in an instant You’re stuck with your back on his chest His legs pinning yours to the ground Arms locking your wiggling torso in place “My last meal before a mission, and my first meal after, are yours.” But. That. Is. It. “Are you going to tickle me?” you huff “Do you accept my terms and conditions, bitch?” he huffs back “You love me?” you whisper His arms loosen, hands slipping familiarly under your waistband, fingernails grazing delicately along your hips “You’re dumb for having to ask.” You giggle “Do you accept my terms and conditions?” he presses his thumb demandingly into the softness of your inner thigh “Only if you eat with me now,” you mutter cheekily, “It’s almost dinnertime.” All he hears is “Only if you eat me out.”

He’d forget why y’all were even there if your unfinished food wasn’t a constant reminder Sometimes you have the same conversation over and over again It’s actually pretty fun You’re glad you can recycle the same jokes And he doesn’t mind being asked to reheat your food Once Twice Three times? Although he does occasionally ponder why your food’s cold in the first place He forgets that you’re actually at like, the fourth place —Early dinners confuse him Because it’s light out when y’all start And out of nowhere, the moon’s shining He doesn’t mind though He always make a point to hold on to the sound of you giggling at your own jokes Even if he never remembers the jokes themselves “Why is the grass so dangerous?” he says one afternoon “Why?” your eyes widen excitedly “I was hoping you’d know the answer,” he admits sheepishly. “I only remember the first part of the joke.” You grumble good naturedly It’s not like you’d told him that joke six times over breakfast earlier seven times, it was seven “Because it’s full of blades,” you huff Full of blades! He likes that one Cause, yanno Blades Wait What’s full of blades?

Giyuu’s straightforward “You’re a slow eater.” He’s not unkind Just matter of factly Thing is You endear him He loves how you poke at your meals Not in distaste Just in an entirely unbothered manner How you get sidetracked rambling on and on Tangenting from here to there Spiraling into who knows what He’s tracked your train of thought before Pineapple to ceramics to shoes, then elbows, cats, and snow He could pretend to make sense of you But like You definitely don’t make sense He probably shouldn’t let you prattle on as much as he does But he’s just so hopeless He surrenders countless hours to your musings and wonderments Sometimes, after eating with you, he feels like he’s returning from a fever dream Wtf If it were anyone else, he’d feel overwhelmed Frankly, you do overwhelm him But if your mind is a fever dream Then he never wants to wake up Giyuu isn’t the chattiest of men And you chat enough for the both of you He appreciates that immensely Eating with you Is when he feels the least pressured No pressure to say something Meaningful Powerful Eloquent You just present question after question And half the time he doesn’t even get around to answering Because then you’re mumbling about squid and blue glass and the scent of cotton To clarify He feels heard Like When he’s in a bad mood You pick up on it immediately And gently coax him into saying Whatever’s troubling him Somehow, you provide precisely what he needs Nothing more Nothing less Only you could obliviously talk and talk and maintain his utmost attention Only you could unwittingly create the right size, shape, and amount of space For him to feel —Safe

You whine when you’re left to your own devices So he’s started doing his nightly training in the kitchen Or enlists Hina, Makio, and Suma to save him from having to watch you painstakingly eat another singular grain of rice —Your eating is truly the least flamboyant event he’s ever had to experience And he experiences it far too frequently Unfortunately, nightly training in the kitchen may not be the greatest solution anymore You tend to get distracted horny “Tennngen-saaama! I keep dropping my riiice!” And then “How about you come feed me?” He’s down bad for how exaggeratedly you bat your eyelashes don’t worry; his cock is definitely up; no issues there He feels badly for all the food waste he knows he’s responsible for his cock has no regrets —When Hina’s with you she cleans up the kitchen Heck, she can usually get through the entire cycle of washing, drying, and putting away the evening’s dishes And then organizes the junk drawer Keeps her busy, at least Actually sitting across from you while you eat rice is definitely cruel and unusual punishment Best to keep busy —Makio’s an expert at goading you into eating faster She doesn’t have the patience to coddle you “For fuck’s sake [y/n].” “Do you have any idea how infuriating this is?” “Every meal. Hours and hours and hours.” You feel terribly — you know you’re slow asf Makio’s conscience falters at your guilt ridden expression But it’s worth it She gets herself you out of the kitchen faster than anyone else —Suma lowkey loves being put on prevent-[y/n]-from-whining duty You see, she’s an avid reader Well If she had enough time to read, then she would be So getting “stuck” in the kitchen with you just means she gets to read Aloud To you It’s adorable Highkey everyone, Tengen, Hina, and Makio, loves when Suma’s on duty You? Not so much She chooses the corniest, repetitive stories But ugh. Oh well Sometimes you purposely eat even slower with Suma You may dislike her taste in stories But she’s precious And she deserves to get her reading in

[filipofmounthonora]

tara 💗 bc we both love it 🥰 you can either write smth wholesome or maybe emotional?(like that jaric/j and s scene kinda) but yea I’d be happy either way :]

:] tara my best childhood friends tara 🥰 not offering any explanation to other people about why certain people arent dead but <3 also you get script form to shake things up

send me a pairing and/or prompt idea and i'll write something about it! <3

The Woods are often dark, deep, and cold, but for now, sitting around a cozy campfire, the Avalon Quartet let themselves forget it. TEDROS and CHADDICK sit side-by-side on a mossy log. Across the dividing campfire, YARA perches on a large boulder, and ARIC, eyeing the Woods behind them and the stick he's whittling down, uses her as a backrest. A freshly-caught rabbit roasts on the spit; several more are skinned and and salted in cloth for the journey.

TEDROS: (prodded by Chaddick) I can't believe you caught them all bare-handed. Never seen you move so quick, even in Swordplay.

YARA: (bashful) Well, there wasn't much for a kid to do in Avalon. I spent most of my time scrambling after snow foxes and (gesturing at the fire) rabbits. Once I chased a Frostplains tern right off the parapet! I dropped right into Lady Nimue.

She chuckles at the memory, rolling up her pant leg to show off a faded scar. It runs up along the bone.

YARA: We're both pretty lucky she's made of water. (no time to process) My dad taught me to play the lyre while I was stuck in bed, so I lured that tern back in with a ballad I wrote and—

ARIC: Isn't it bad luck to kill a Frostplain tern?

YARA: Albatrosses—it taught me bird calls, Aric, don't be absurd! But now I speak some cormorant, king eider, and a bit of white-tailed eagle.

Chaddick nods solemnly, pieces slotting together, dots connecting.

CHADDICK: That's why all the squawking in the School for Girl.

YARA: (laughs, imitation of a goose) I was just a lot more shy. Believe me, if I could've gotten away with never speaking anywhere else, none of you would know what I sounded like. Except for Ted, of course. (beat) Storian's Point, it feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?

Tedros grins.

TEDROS: Back then I could actually win matches. Now you just keep dodging all my jabs—it's really unfair.

YARA: (teasing) Well, it's not my fault my teacher's one of the best Knights in the Woods.

CHADDICK: (idea sparking) And is he one of the best dancers, too? (off Tedros' curiosity) You should've seen her performance at graduation; half the Class couldn't pick their jaws off the floor.

YARA: (waving him off) It was a group—there were other girls there, too, you know! It wasn't all about me...

But she blushes red from the compliment, and even brighter from the impressed look Tedros gives her.

TEDROS: I'm sorry to have missed it.

YARA: Oh, well... (off Chaddick's Pointed Stare) Maybe I could show off a few steps—

She stands up, dusts herself, counts off the beat in her head—and throws herself into a whirling, enthusiastic jig, her movements snappy yet graceful, effortlessly stunning as she skips circles around the fire. With a complicated flourish, Yara concludes to a standing (or lounging, in Aric's case) ovation from Chaddick and a particularly flustered Tedros. She takes a giddy bow.

TEDROS: That was... (uncharacteristically meek) You're really good.

YARA: It's easier than it looks! Especially when you have the music to keep you in time—(gasping) Aric!

Aric twists his head back warily. He's got an inkling of her coming request, and he isn't that obliging. Yet.

YARA: You know the song, right? It's—oh, I forget the name—the one that goes...

She starts humming the opening bars of a Foxwood folk tune. Aric nods reluctantly, finishing the rest of the line.

YARA: Could you play it for us? Please?

CHADDICK: (mock stern) You heard the lady. Otherwise we're tying you to Tedros for the rest of the trip.

Ignoring Tedros' cry of protest, Aric eyes the other two for a long while. Then, with a belaboured sigh, he rummages through his cape for his mandolin.

ARIC: (not a promise) One song. Then I sleep.

Yara cheers, hopping up and down, and Chaddick ruffles Aric's hair before slouching down beside him. As Aric picks out the melody at half-speed, Yara takes both of Tedros' hands.

TEDROS: Wait, what are we doing?

YARA: I'm teaching you! First off: can you feel the pulse? One-and, two-and; one-and, two—(Tedros starts counting) you got it! Now you kick—not me! You kick here; and in-between we step like this—

Tedros awkwardly picks it up, gaining confidence as Yara guides him around slowly—but not enough to let go of her.

YARA: Got the rhythm now? Then we can go faster. Aric—!

She didn't need to remind him; the tempo speeds up to something upbeat, getting Chaddick to clap along. He heckles when Tedros stumbles, but Yara just laughs and soon Tedros is too. All the while the music gets faster and faster, and Tedros doesn't mind that he forgets how the footwork goes, because Yara's fingers are enlaced with his, and her smile glows brighter than the flames, and when a stray kick collides with his shin, toppling them breathless and giggling onto the dirt... Tedros doesn't mind that either.

ARIC: Another song!

He immediately launches into a Foxwood love ballad.

[httyd-grimmelsgirl]

I take everything I read about the INTP type with a grain of salt...

...bc I don't know if it's Grimmel's actual personality, but everything I have read so far fits perfectly with what we see in the he movie.

His work habits line up with the INTP's. They aren't inferior nor superior to anyone, and don't necessarily look for others approval, but improve based on their own high standards. And work for them should be what they like, and something that can really push their limits. Also, they are able to notice small details that no one else does due to they're analytic nature, which I think is a proper explanation for why he was able to hunt all Night Furies and know things like Furies find one mate they stay with for life. His personality type is outgoing and confident. They do regret mistakes when made due to their high standard for themselves, but are able to identify what went wrong and bounce back quickly.

The way he goes about regular life like not needing a wide circle of friends to be happy and usually occupying himself with stuff that makes him happy. This seemed pretty accurate, sense several fans believe he is "conservative" (I might post that conversation later). He doesn't seem to socialize as though he is close to anyone, but he is still enthusiastic to meet new people and can comfortably integrate into any situation, seen in his introduction scene. Grimmel respects other intelligent people, for example he says Hiccup's sword impressed him, and doesn't treats the warlords like inferiors. However, he does get important when others don't keep up with him.

His social skills are... okay. It's not a strength of the INTP to pick up on social ques or even moderate their behavior to please others, but they aren't terrible at it, and can adapt. INTP's have little interest in controlling others, as they themselves are free spirited, and in the case of parenting, even if they don't get the way that kids act, they still know that their children have a lot to learn before being just as logical as them. They also enjoy teaching courious people what they need to know, as INTP's themselves are courious.

[i-want-my-iwtv]

Hi Anon,

I've been in the Vampire Chronicles fandom for a long time, and I would say that one of the reasons I love these books is that they show hope in the darkest times, characters striving to overcome adversity even when they get beaten down repeatedly... there's wealth porn, purple prose, declarations of love, and Yes, there are problematic elements. I think the TV series is exploring some interesting facets of problematic issues in ways that the books do not.

Just bc you like a book series or its tv series doesn't mean you endorse/promote/support those problematic things in real life. There are parts of VC I don't like, there are characters I don't have interest in, and that's fine. You can pick and choose! This could be a good thing to bring you and your crush closer together; fiction is a safe place to explore difficult things, it's only ink on paper. Maybe you can help this person begin to unpack their feelings about some of these things, or just listen and show support for them. "The members experience love within the cult and they lose friends and in some cases family members upon leaving or being excluded from the cult." Ppl leave their anti/cult circles when they feel that they have a safe place, support, and encouragement from non-anti ppl who care about them, and have been so grateful that someone was willing to risk fights for trying to help the anti leave that mentality and go towards a better mindset.

This looks like a good resource to start with: How to get someone out of a cult – and what happens afterwards

I hope that your crush can see the positive aspects in these characters/stories, and you know... you can treat canon like a buffet, too, you don't have to accept all of it as canon. If all you like is the dog character Mojo from Tale of the Body Thief, that's fine, too! There used to be a blog dedicated just to Mojo.

You can check out my tag #Free VC Advertising, here's one post from there by @littlewifeywife-blog [X]. Also try #i love these kinds of stories, to see posts from ppl who show their appreciation for VC.

(The message below was written in 2016, keep in mind that fandom has evolved since then, and we were not in the habit of making a lot of disclaimers at that time, but of course, everyone's experience is different, and take every person's opinion with a grain of salt!)

So I’m re-reading the Vampire Chronicles, and discovering all over again that I love the way Anne Rice depicts sexuality, attraction, and affection in her books, not just among vampires, but among humans as well. People in platonic relationships never hesitate to say that they love each other, to show affection, to kiss. Sexual orientation doesn’t seem to exist, really, especially with the undead. It seems that a century or two of immortality has rendered most of them indifferent in regards to gender. I love the repeated narrative of “I hate you, but I haven’t seen you in a really long time, and I missed hating you in person, so come here and let me hug you and tell you how beautiful you are.” There is something very poignant in the way that they treasure the familiar. Consent is super important in sexual situations in her books, and in simple social situations, and in regards to the giving and receiving of blood. It’s recognized that people who have been made vampires without their consent are victims of trauma, even if they are men.

let me pour out my tortured soul for a minute. the girl im in love with is an anti. its for the same reason i was an anti when i was younger: sexually themed ocd. i understand every fiber of the reason why she is the way that she is, why she believes what she believes. hell, i believed the same things for the same reason when we first met. but im unlearning and healing and shes just not and im afraid! im afraid because i publicly love the vampire chronicles (the show, but also the books which are Majorly "problematic" media) and im afraid shes going to learn about the more "problematic" elements of these books and hate me forever. it would break my heart. i dont know what to do. i have no fucking idea what to do...

.