#I think I’ve seen it called forbidden fruit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year ago

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Napoleonville [Chapter 1: The Fall-Down House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, alligators, kids, parenthood, smoking, cupcakes!

Word Count: 7.2k (she's very chonky for a first chapter).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Since this is the first chapter of a new series, I'm going to tag a bunch of usual readers, but I won't tag you again unless you want me to. 💜

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“What do you want to do to me?” you whisper through the phone, stretched out across your bed like a cat as George Michael’s Faith plays from the baby pink Panasonic boombox out in the kitchen. It’s late afternoon, and fading daylight falls in tiger stripes through the window blinds. The May air is hot, muggy, golden; cicadas hum in the southern live oaks, an ancient earthen music like rattling bones.

A few seconds pass before he can reply. It was a bold way to begin. You are admittedly a little impressed with yourself; an idea like this has been pacing around in your skull like a beast behind bars for years, but you’ve only now set it loose. “That’s difficult to explain in words,” he says; and in the low, teasing purr of his voice you can hear that your gamble paid off like striking oil. He has a British accent, which you never would have expected. You only recognize it from clips you’ve seen of Prince Charles and Princess Diana on 60 Minutes. “But I’d enjoy showing you.”

It’s laid open beside you on the bed, his personal ad in the Bayou Journal: Educated white male in his mid-20s. Single and not looking to change that. Seeking an open-minded, adventurous, and spirited lady for short-term D/s arrangement. Be prepared to answer the following riddle: I’m small but loom large, I’m Italian but French, I give away much to gain little. Who am I? Best regards, An Indecent Gentleman. “I’m waiting.”

“You understand what is meant by D/s?”

“Of course,” you say, your best feigned flippantness. You only know because Amir told you; he’s been daring you to call for three days.

“Thank God,” the man on the other end of the line sighs. There is an inhale like a drag on a cigarette. You imagine what he might look like: broad or slight, dark-haired or blonde, striking or average or homely, treacherous or safe, forbidden fruit or just plain forbidden. “I’ve had four different women ring me thinking I’m going to be their boyfriend, dinner and flowers and everything. They’re functionally illiterate down here.”

How unfortunate, you think. He’s highfalutin. But alas, no one is perfect. That’s no prohibitive obstacle. He doesn’t need to be faultless; it’s not as if you’re planning to marry the guy. “I like when someone else is in control.”

“Why?” This is a test, you can feel it. You can sense his rapt attention across the wire, through the electricity and the lush treetops and the rust-amber sky.

“I have a lot of…responsibilities in my real life,” you explain. “A lot of pressure. I make the decisions, I look out for other people. Sometimes I want to be the one who’s told what to do.”

“I can make that happen. And the riddle?”

“It’s Napoleon.”

The grin is sharp and triumphant in his voice. “Good girl.”

“He was short but an emperor. He was born in Corsica to an Italian family, but he ended up ruling over France. He sold off a bunch of French colonies to focus on conquering Europe and still couldn’t quite manage it. But the U.S.A. got this charming little corner of the world as part of the bargain.”

“You’re a historian,” the man says, sounding pleased.

“No sir, we all had to learn about him in school whether we wanted to or not.”

“Sir,” he echoes, tasting it, savoring it. You imagine a pink tongue flicking out to skate across his lips. Then he is abruptly cool, impersonal, businesslike. “Listen, I’ve got a scar down the left side of my face. It’s thin, it’s clean, but it’s noticeable. The eye is glass, although you can’t really tell unless you look closely. Is that a problem?”

A scar? Is he a veteran? A lion tamer? A motorcycle enthusiast? You try to remember what kinds of hobbies British people have. Isn’t there some kind of sport where men swing sticks around while riding horses? That sounds like it could put an eye out. Perhaps to your own surprise, you find that you are more intrigued than uneasy. Oh, you realize, dull like dawn through mist. I like him. I want him. Not just THIS, but HIM. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Brilliant. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

“That’s fine.” You hesitate. “There’s actually something I should tell you too.”

“Hm?”

The hum of his voice is arrogant, hungry. You try not to get distracted. Blood rushes hot and ashamed into your cheeks. “Um, well, uh, sometimes it’s difficult for me to…you know. Finish. Not when I’m alone, just when I’m with a guy. Especially if I’m anxious. And I don’t want to feel worried about faking it or making sure it happens or dealing with you getting offended or upset or whatever. Because it’s fine, really. It doesn’t mean I’m not having a good time. I’m just…stuck in my own head.”

There is a sound you can’t quite match to an expression, an exhale, a scoff. “Obviously I wouldn’t be mad at you. But you’ll come. I know you will. I’ll make you.”

And you’re flooded with a relief that you never dared to hope for. A confession spills out in a trembling whisper: “Please.”

“When?” he says, eager, urgent.

“I think if we don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve.”

There is a razor-thin pause, and then he asks for your address.

~~~~~~~~~~

You haven’t had a man in your bed in years; you are abruptly and unkindly reminded of this when you paw through the top drawer of your bedroom dresser and find only practical, deadly unsexy cotton Kmart underwear. You dash to the closet, yank open the squeaking door, and—tucked away in a cardboard box of winter clothes like sweaters and jeans, forgotten, needless—unearth a sprinkling of insubstantial silk and lace, all in luxurious gemstone hues: amethyst, ruby, sapphire, onyx, emerald.

“Oh, hallelujah.” You throw off your sunshine yellow shorts and tug on what were once upon a time your favorite panties. They don’t fit nearly as well as they used to; they fit horribly, in fact. They evaporate the thrill and leave nauseous trepidation in its place. “Oh God. Oh no. Oh no, oh no.” You steal a harried glimpse of the clunky black alarm clock on your nightstand. The flashing red numbers inform you that you have approximately ten more minutes until he arrives.

You jog pantsless to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of sweet tea—ice cold, bright with a squeeze of lemon juice—and pace back and forth across the wooden floor as you sip it. The pine boards slope at just the slightest angle; if you laid an apple by your feet, it would roll. The house is sinking. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century, but it won’t live to see the next. Ailing sunlight casts your shadow against the wall, mint green, spider-leg cracks inching through the paint. Outside cicadas buzz and doves coo in long, mournful whirrs.

You pick up the phone—pink to match the boombox that is now playing Poison’s Nothin’ But A Good Time—next to the refrigerator and dial with one finger, your other hand still clutching the frosty glass of sweet tea. It rings twice before he answers.

“Wassup?” Amir says distractedly. You can hear a commotion from his living room on the other side of town: his grandmother squawking, ambient applause, Wheel Of Fortune.

“Quick, what should I wear?”

“Huh?”

“The guy! The guy from the ad! I called the guy! What should I be wearing when he shows up?”

Amir cackles. “Ho, you must be truly desperate, why the fuck are you asking me?” There is some shrill protestation in the background. “Grandma, don’t you dare try to act like you’ve never heard that word before, we just rented Aliens.”

“You know what men like,” you plead.

“Not the straight ones!” And then, not to you: “Grandma, calm down. Grandma, Grandma! It’s my homegirl. She has an emergency. She’s got a man coming over and she doesn’t know what to wear. What did you wear for Pop Pop? What? What?! You expect me to believe you got seven kids out of that dude with just some old floral nightgown?! Prairie girl fabulous? Looking like you’re on your way to join the Donner Party? Okay, if you say so! Phyllis knows best!” Amir’s attention returns to you. “Grandma suggests a nightgown.”

You are skeptical. “That seems slutty.”

“You’re inviting some stranger over for an all-expenses-paid ride on the Pussy Express and you’re concerned about looking slutty?!”

He has a point. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

“You wear that nightgown with confidence and you take that random kinky man directly to bed, do you understand me?” Amir orders.

“Totally,” you say, gulping sweet tea with a shaking hand.

“Good luck. I gotta go, it’s the Bonus Round. Hope you have a few rounds to tell me about tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.

Back in your bedroom closet, you find a black satin slip that runs to your ankles and flows like a ballgown. You put it on some nights when you’re feeling desirable, after a bath of bubbles and steam, candles and Madonna, freshly shaved legs and shimmering with Pond’s, when you want to lounge around daydreaming, when you want to remember the fantasies you once had about what your life might turn out to be. Now you wear it in the fading daylight, nothing underneath and golden sunbeams turning your skin to something that warms and glows.

You appraise yourself in your dusty dresser mirror, and you think: Not too bad, actually. You’ve had your hair up in a haphazard bun. You reach to take it down, then stop yourself. You like the wayward wisps, the I-don’t-care-too-much casualness. Your breathing is slow and calm again. There is a noise outside: tires crunching on gravel. Your glass of sweet tea, now mostly just ice cubes, is sweating on top of your dresser. You grab the glass, swipe the Bayou Journal off your bed, and take both to the kitchen counter, still speckled with flour, powdered sugar, flecks of cinnamon. Then you pad across the sloping wooden floor in your bare feet to open the front door. Amber dusk streams in; you can hear bullfrogs croaking and the hoots of the long-eared owl that lives in the collapsing, overgrown shed behind the house. Spanish moss hangs like cobwebs, like chandeliers. The tree swing rocks idly in the breeze. The first notes of You Shook Me All Night Long play from the kitchen boombox.

His car is red, sporty, with a logo on the grill that you don’t recognize, a series of circles intertwined like rings. He cuts the engine and steps out into the driveway as you watch from behind the screen, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. He’s tall, trim, blonde, wearing Adidas sneakers and light-wash jeans and a Marlboro jacket that it’s far too hot for. He peers around, taking in the trees and the house through his black aviator sunglasses. He puffs one last time on a cigarette before putting it out on his own windshield and starting towards the porch. And immediately, primally, you crave him like water or air.

He climbs the groaning steps, splitting wood and rusty nails. You open the screen door to meet him in the threshold. And he takes off his sunglasses so he can look at you, stowing them in a pocket of his jacket, his gaze not wavering from yours, his lips not saying a word. Yes, he has a scar, but it doesn’t diminish him in the slightest. Yes, his left eye may be glass, but you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t already told you. You’re too tangled up in the right. His iris is a brisk greyish blue, not like the ocean, not like the bayou, more like the sky before a hurricane, heavy with the threat of wind and rain. His face is strong, jarring, beautiful in a rare way. His full lips are curling into a grin.

At last, you speak first, an inane observation that feels somehow significant. “You found me.”

“I did.” He nods towards the large lavender sign out by the mouth of the gravel driveway. Hand-painted on it are the words Hummingbird Bakery and a logo that Amir designed, a hummingbird feeding on the frosting swirl of a cupcake as if it’s a flower flush with nectar. “You told me to look for the sign. That helped.”

“What kind of car do you drive? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s an Audi Quattro.”

“Audi,” you repeat, like a hopelessly distant place, New York City or Los Angeles or Paris or the moon. “Is that British?”

“German, actually.”

“You’re from a very different world.”

“Yeah, I am.” His eye flicks up and down your body, black satin that curves and clings; his grin widens. “But I could learn to like yours, I think.”

You step back so he can follow you inside. The screen door shuts with a bang. Under the shadows, as the sun sets into the west, he unzips his Marlboro jacket and tosses it onto your living room couch. Underneath he wears a white t-shirt. We’re opposites, you think dazedly, wondering what he will taste like when he kisses you. He grazes his fingertips down the front of your throat, continues to your chest, stills when he hits the satin of your slip.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to,” he murmurs, and you breathe in his smoke and cologne and dauntless, dizzying self-assurance. “But until you say stop, I’m gonna keep going.”

Your heartbeat is drumming beneath his hand, part exhilaration and the rest nerves. You are afraid of disappointing him; you aren’t sure what to expect. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Aemond.”

Aemond. Foreign, like Audi, like Paris. You give him your own in return. He leans in, presses his hips to yours, denim and satin that you can feel his heat through. And you think he’s going to kiss your neck, or bite it, bruise it, mark it, claim it, claim you; but he only ghosts his parted lips from the edge of your jaw to your bare shoulder, inhaling slow and deep, drawing your atoms into his lungs until they tumble down the narrowest corridors and into his capillary beds, into his bloodstream. You moan softly, helplessly, and turn your face to kiss him.

“No,” Aemond growls, teasing you, catching your chin with one hand to hold you still. His other hand glides down the front of your slip and stops between your legs. Through satin the color of a starless midnight, his fingers stroke you roughly, commandingly. Animalistic yearning bolts low to weaken your knees, high to rip a gasp from your throat. “Nothing underneath,” he notes in approval.

Oh, I like him, you think, in equal parts ecstatic and petrified. I REALLY like him.

But are you going to be able to impress him too? Are you going to ruin this?

You whimper, unintentionally and almost inaudibly. Aemond is studying your face; furrows appear in his scarred brow, so faint and fleeting you might have imagined them. Then his hand retreats as he says: “Show me your toys.”

You gape up at him; this is not what you anticipated. “What?”

“I want to see how you make yourself come. You have toys, don’t you?”

“I do,” you admit, though you’ve never used them with anyone else before.

Aemond smirks mischieviously, then commands: “Show me. Right now.”

You lead him to your bedroom and slide open the middle drawer of your dresser. You glance at his reflection in the silvery glass of the mirror; he’s staring, not at your body but at your face, his gaze locked with yours, his mouth open, entranced, hungry. You move to stand against the wall, smiling sheepishly as Aemond shoves aside folded sheets and pillowcases to reveal your collection. It’s nothing too adventurous: five vibrators in different colors, styles, sizes.

“Quite the assortment,” he praises.

“They were gifts from a friend.”

Now Aemond is dubious. “A friend?”

“Don’t be jealous. He doesn’t like women.”

Aemond laughs, warm and boyish like he’s breaking character; and you are alarmed by the wave of fondness for him that crashes through you. It’s something that could pull you under. It’s something you could drown in. He picks up the largest vibrator: long, thick, pink like soft feminine vulnerability, like love. Then he is darkly, deliciously stern again. “On the bed.”

“No.” Not because you’re genuinely protesting. Because you want him to make you.

Aemond grabs you around your waist and drags you towards the bed as you squeal, giggle, fight him halfheartedly. He throws you down onto the wildflower-patterned duvet and climbs between your thighs, parting them as he pushes the hem of your black satin slip up to your waist. Abruptly, you are bare for him, exposed, fiery dusk air cool against your wetness. Aemond is still fully clothed, white shirt and pale blue jeans. He is holding your legs open with his own. You can see the bulge of his cock beneath the denim: at least as large as the vibrator and hard with insistent longing.

I want him, you think as you hear the vibrator click on. I want him, I want him…

Aemond brings the pink silicone tip to your flesh, and instantly you’re ravenous. It shocks you how much more erotic this is when someone else is holding it, when someone else has you entirely at their mercy. You cry out, loud and shameless, euphoric. Your back arches; your fingers twist into the duvet. As he presses the vibrator down more forcefully, Aemond braces his hips against yours, grinding into you through his jeans, taunting you, conquering you.

You fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans. “Please—”

“No,” Aemond snarls, beaming, snatching your hand and pinning it up by your head. His other hand is still circling your clit with the tip of the vibrator. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

“Aemond, please, I need you—”

“No,” he says, defiant. He makes the rules. He has the power; he’s in control. Suddenly, he pulls the vibrator away. You yelp in dismay. “You know,” Aemond quips cavalierly. “It’s a shame you have such a difficult time finishing when you’re with a man. I bet you’re not even close.”

“I am,” you whine, in agony, in ecstasy.

Aemond pretends to be surprised. “Hm.” He returns the vibrator to your skin, slick, hot, aching in the most wondrous way. You sigh as the pleasure surges through you, as you soar up to the previous plateau and then begin to ascend beyond it. You must have repositioned yourself without noticing; Aemond releases your hand to smack his palm against the inside of your thigh. “Keep your legs apart. I want you wide open for me.”

“I will, I promise.” I’ll do anything you tell me to.

Aemond’s hand ventures lower. Two of his fingers glide inside you and thrust in time with his hips. “Fuck,” he hisses, breaking character again; and something rocks through his shoulders, his spine, a divine temptation that he is battling.

“Aemond, more,” you plead, looking at the massive outline of his cock under his jeans.

“Not yet,” he pants, fucking you with his fingers as the vibrator hums against your clit. “You have to come for me first, baby. You have to earn it.”

And you’re close, you really are, you’re closer than you ever would have imagined you’d be with him tonight, this stranger, this elusive British man, this man from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal that you almost never replied to. Your hair has come undone and is wild around your face; your heart is pounding frantically; your skin is bathed in a sheen of victorious perspiration. When was the last time someone made you feel like this? You can’t recall; the answer might be never. There is a spellbinding, intensifying sensation of warmth, of opening, you’re only seconds from the brink, you’re ready to step off the precipice and into open blue air the same color as his eyes—

Aemond yanks the vibrator away again, grinning toothily down at you.

“No!” You scrabble for him with shaking hands, pulling yourself up as you reach for the vibrator. Aemond pushes you back onto the bed. Despite your protests, you love the feeling of his weight on top of yours; you love the organic symphony he’s built of, muscle and bone and skill and power. His fingers are still pumping in and out of you, keeping you soaked and throbbing, pinning you to the edge of an orgasm without permitting you to succumb to it.

“It’s going to be so good for you like this, baby,” Aemond insists, low and raspy. He’s reading your face, attentive to every detail, drinking up your desperate body and quivering voice. “I swear I’m not torturing you for no reason. Let me show you. Let me take care of you. When it happens, it’s going to blow your fucking mind. Are you ready?”

“Yes, now, please, do it now,” you whimper as you lie beneath him, open, bare, senseless, vanquished.

Aemond drags his tongue over the tip of the vibrator, moaning with lust as he tastes you. Then he at last presses the pink silicone to your clit once more. In your electrified nerves, in your scalding blood, there are sparks and momentum and currents rushing towards the cataclysmic breaking of a rogue wave. “Nice and slow,” Aemond murmurs. “Let it build.”

Instead of the peak, you reach another plateau, so high and so rapturous you can’t stand it, you can’t fathom climbing any farther. It’s becoming so sharp and intense it’s almost painful. Fresh anxiety flashes in your mind like lightning. The momentum begins to dissipate like dewdrops under the late-morning sun. Oh no, I’m going to lose it, I’m going to disappoint him—

Aemond lifts the vibrator off you again; before you have time to collect yourself enough to speak, to apologize, he’s slipped his fingers out of you and carefully guided the vibrator inside, stretching you, filling you, thrusting rhythmically but not too viciously or too deep. He places his thumbprint on the place where the vibrator was just seconds ago and circles quickly, once, twice, again, and then…

You try not to scream, but you can’t help it, can’t stop it; the climax wrenches out of you indescribable pleasure, vanished fears, awe and relief, twisted muscles and gasping breaths, every electrical impulse of every atom, and each time you believe it’s over it rolls a little farther like an endless summer afternoon. When it’s done—truly done—you aren’t sure exactly how it happens but suddenly you’re sitting upright on the bed and the vibrator is lying forgotten on top of the duvet and Aemond is laughing, kissing you—sweat and nicotine, smoke and salt—and caressing your face with his hands, saying: “You were such a good girl. You did amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“Okay,” you exhale unsteadily, smiling. You nod to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “Your turn.”

“No,” Aemond says primly.

“What?”

“No,” he repeats. “Not today.”

“But…but…why?”

The curl of his lips is crooked and playful. “To prove I’m not just here to get myself off.” He kisses you again, far more tenderly than any random dom from a personal ad should. “You don’t trust me. But maybe next time you will.”

“How could I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“We’ll have to spend more time together.”

“You seriously aren’t going to fuck me right now? Me? A mostly-naked stranger you met up with exclusively for the purposes of fucking?”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

In truth, no; your pulse is slowing, your thoughts are calm, your lust is satiated, you’re reasonably certain that you’ve sprained no less than four muscles. You feel like the sky after rain: emptied, unburdened, untroubled, at peace. “Not at all.”

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

You reach out to touch Aemond’s unscarred cheek and he smiles. You try to ghost your fingertips over the left side of his face and he flinches away, leaves the bed, takes the vibrator to the bathroom to scrub it with soap and water. “Can I at least pour you a glass of sweet tea or something?” you call after him. “I feel guilty. I feel like I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain.”

“You exceeded all of my expectations,” Aemond says with a strange sort of somberness. “But sweet tea sounds great.”

You take five minutes to clean up and change into real clothes—ratty denim shorts and a red, white, and blue Pepsi t-shirt, chaotic hair, no bra—and then meet Aemond in the kitchen. He’s surveying the large circular table, which is littered with covered cake plates in a hodgepodge of sizes and colors; you found most of them at yard sales and thrift shops. The sun has set and the stars have risen; the kitchen is illuminated by yellow-hued florescent light. Night air flows in through the screens of the open windows. The boombox is currently playing Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now.

“What’s the deal with that?” Aemond asks about the cluttered kitchen table.

“They’re the baked goods. For my bakery.”

“Right,” he says, remembering, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “The sign out front.”

“Would you like anything? Today we had butterscotch chiffon cake, coconut custard cake, blackberry dark chocolate cupcakes, pecan pie, red velvet brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, lavender black tea cookies, chocolate meringue pie, butter pecan muffins…”

“How about those?” He points.

“Oh! Those are banana bread cupcakes. One of my favorites.”

“Banana bread…cupcakes?”

“Here.” You plop one on a plate for Aemond, then go to the refrigerator to pour two tall glasses of sweet tea. “A lot of people put chocolate chips in their banana bread, but I feel like any chocolate really eclipses the banana flavor. It’s so subtle, you know? So what I do instead is cinnamon, honey, cream cheese frosting, and a tiny bit of sea salt mixed into the batter. If you get the ratio just right, there’s this really great blend of saltiness and sweetness, and the banana is still the star of the show. Of course I’ve fucked up plenty of times too and almost given myself dangerously high blood pressure. If I ruin a batch, I’m the one who has to eat it. We can’t let anything go to waste. Our profit margin is thinner than a crescent moon on the best months.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He’s taken a bite and is now gawking at the banana bread cupcake. “You made this?” He gestures to the table. “You made all of this?”

“My best friend Amir runs the business with me, but most of the recipes are mine. My mom used to bake all the time when I was little. Now she has rheumatoid arthritis and has given it up, more or less, but that’s where I learned a lot of what I know. And I try to come up with new ideas each week to add to the rotation.”

“This is exceptional,” Aemond says. His mouth is full of the rest of the cupcake. He washes it down with a few gulps of sweet tea; ice cubes jangle in the misty glass. “This is, like, insanely good. Can I have another one…?” He’s already lifting the cover off the cake plate.

You chuckle. “Yeah, seriously, have as many as you like.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“The cupcakes are $1, but you don’t have to pay me. You get the unrequited orgasm discount.”

“Just $1 each.” Aemond is incredulous. You aren’t sure what that’s about. He sets the second cupcake down on the table, tugs a black leather wallet out of his jeans pocket, and gives you a $10 bill.

“Aemond, really, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Take the money. Stop talking about it.”

You smirk up at him. “Is that an order, sir?”

He grabs your jaw with one forceful hand, kisses you roughly, bites your lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He tastes like cinnamon, honey, sugar, sex. “Yes,” he says, grinning wickedly. Then his hands drop to unbutton your shorts. The idea of stopping Aemond doesn’t even cross your mind; your desire for him—him specifically—is back, flaring red and primeval and irresistible. “I want you on top of that counter—”

Outside there are footsteps bounding up the front porch, loud on the creaking boards. You tear away from Aemond and hurry to re-button your shorts. What? Already??

You know exactly who it must be.

Well, now I’m definitely never going to see Aemond again.

He’s terrified, he’s wondering whether he should try to jump out of a window. But really, he’s already been spotted; his Audi Quattro is still waiting for him in the gravel driveway. “Please don’t tell me that’s your homicidal armed boyfriend or something.”

“No,” you say. “It’s my daughter.”

“Wait, your…?!”

The door swings open; you hardly ever lock it. Cadi trots in just as you are flipping over the copy of the Bayou Journal on the kitchen counter so Aemond’s personal ad is no longer visible. Instead, what now faces up—dotted with flour, powdered sugar, cinnamon, grease stains of butter—is a column about the rigs opened in Lake Verret. Just what this town needs, you think distractedly. An environmental disaster.

“Mom, whose radical car is that—?” Then Cadi spies Aemond and blinks at him a few times. She is ten years old but thinks she’s your age, short hair, short temper, denim overalls and a t-shirt underneath patterned with multicolored horses.

“This is Aemond,” you explain. He waves awkwardly and then resumes nibbling on his second banana bread cupcake, avoiding her scrutiny. “He’s a friend.”

“But you don’t have any friends,” Cadi replies.

“Watch it, Child Of The Corn. I have friends.”

“You have like one friend.”

“What happened to your sleepover with Mawmaw? I thought you were excited to trick her into watching Hellraiser.”

“Blockbuster didn’t have it. Then Great Aunt Ethel called and said she broke her hip. Mawmaw dropped me off here on her way to the hospital.”

“And she didn’t even think to check with me first, huh?”

“As if you’d have anything better to do.” Cadi races to the refrigerator—careening around a shellshocked Aemond—and heaves open the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“I think we have some Swanson’s meals left. Oh, and spaghetti.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Who made it?”

“You’re in luck! Not me. Amir.”

“Yay!” Cadi trills, then drags out the pan and begins spooning mounds of spaghetti onto a plate. Aemond looks to you, intrigued.

You say: “I bake, I don’t cook.”

“She really doesn’t,” Cadi concurs.

“Completely different skillset.”

Cadi places a few paper towels over the heaping plate so sauce doesn’t splatter all over the microwave and then sets it to three minutes. As she waits to eat, she wanders over to where the Bayou Journal is lying on the counter and scans the page: Viserys Targaryen, three state-of-the-art oil rigs, Lake Verret, an additional 50 employees hired, Jade Dragon Energy. “Those bastards are going to get their way, I guess.”

You sigh. “Yup.”

Aemond is alarmed. He polishes off the last of his cupcake, frowning as he licks frosting from his lips. “You don’t approve?”

“They’ll blow up the whole town,” Cadi says matter-of-factly.

You smile wanly at Aemond as you sip your sweet tea. “You work for Jade Dragon, right?”

He stares back at you—stunned, perhaps even fearful, a deer flooded with headlights—but doesn’t speak.

“It’s alright. I figured you must. Some smart British guy way out here in Cajun Country? It’s gotta be for a job. Don’t worry. We won’t shoot and skin you or anything. It’s not your fault. You’re just collecting a paycheck, it’s not like you’re running the company.”

“Right.” Aemond grabs a third cupcake and gnaws at it. After a moment he adds: “I have a degree in petroleum engineering. I just moved to Napoleonville last week.”

“I knew it,” you say.

“Boo!” Cadi heckles jokingly. The microwave beeps, then she disappears into her bedroom with her plate of spaghetti. You hear Cadi turn on her little television and flip through the channels until she finds Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond watches her closed door for a few seconds—still processing, you assume—and then turns back to you.

“Her name’s Katie?”

“Cadi. C-a-d-i. It’s short for Arcadia.”

He is impressed. “Greece?”

You titter nervously. You don’t know what he means. “It’s a town up by Shreveport, it’s where Bonnie and Clyde were arrested or killed or something. I’m not sure. Her father picked it.”

“You didn’t have an opinion?”

“Um, I wasn’t really…uh…conscious for a few days after she was born. By the time I was up and around again, he’d already filled out the birth certificate.”

What is that you see flicker across his face like the transient surge of a lightning bug? Curiosity? Apprehension? “I see. And her father is…” Aemond raises a blonde eyebrow, the one his scar cuts through. “On an aircraft carrier somewhere?”

You laugh. “He’s not deployed. We’re divorced, Willis lives about fifteen minutes down the road. It’s amicable.”

“So I don’t need to worry about him showing up on your front porch to murder me with a 2x4 full of nails.”

“No. Although he is the town sheriff.”

Aemond smirks. Is this a challenge or an inconvenience? “Why’d you two split up?”

You shrug, glancing at Cadi’s bedroom door. She is quite aggressive with her television volume; you’re confident she won’t be able to listen in if you keep your voice low. “It’s not that interesting a story.”

“I’m extremely interested.” And he sincerely appears to be, head tilted to the side, eyes fixed on you (though you know the left one sees nothing), thoughts whirling like storm winds.

“Well…we only ever got married because of…” You gesture towards Cadi’s room. Aemond nods, following along. “And I was too young and I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what I wanted out of a man, I didn’t even know I had the right to set standards to measure a husband by. Willis wasn’t terrible. He didn’t hit me. He just wasn’t really who I wanted.” You chew at your lower lip, peering down at the kitchen counter, drawing circles in the sparse flour dust. “He never even proposed to me. Not properly, I mean. I told him I was pregnant and he said: Well, guess we oughta get married, huh sugar? and then drove me to the Kmart up in Gonzales to pick out a ring.”

“Classy,” Aemond mutters.

“I had to buy it myself, actually. Willis didn’t have enough cash on him. He paid me back later, but still. It wasn’t about the ring. I don’t need gold and diamonds. But I need someone who really sees me and understands me and chooses me, you know? I’ve never felt chosen. And I decided I didn’t want to settle for that. If I ever get married again, I want the whole goddamn thing. The real thing. I want the candles and the flowers and a boombox blasting Heaven Is A Place On Earth. And if that’s not in the cards, I guess I’m not the marrying type.”

“And you’ll make do with occasional visits from your friendly neighborhood dom.”

You grin up at Aemond. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You really hate Jade Dragon?”

“Companies like that…they just use us. Our land, our labor. And then when they decimate the place they pack up and disappear overnight, no pensions, no retirement, no unemployment, no meaningful cleanup, just Thanks for the millions! Bye! and we’re left to live in their filth.”

“That’s a rather cynical perspective,” Aemond says.

“It’s a realistic perspective,” you counter. “In 1965, there was a pipeline explosion in Natchitoches, in ‘79 there was an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, in ‘80 a Texaco rig accidentally drilled into a salt mine under Lake Peigneur and destroyed the whole ecosystem. Two weeks ago there was a refinery explosion an hour east of here in Norco. 4,500 people had to be evacuated from their homes. So no, the jobs sound nice, but in my humble estimation they’re not worth dying for.”

Aemond considers you, a look that is not patronizing or combative but not convinced either. And there’s something else too: a caginess, a nervousness.

“And these Jade Dragon people, the Targaryens? They have a history,” you continue. “I read about it in the Bayou Journal. Last year they had an oil spill at an offshore rig near Ketchikan, Alaska. They poured hundreds of thousands of barrels of poison into the ocean and killed a bunch of dolphins and whales and everything. Fishermen went bankrupt, people committed suicide.”

“Mistakes happen.” Aemond places his empty sweet tea glass in the sink.

“But they didn’t make it right. Their lawyers blamed a defective piece of equipment and kicked liability back to the manufacturer. They’ll be battling it out in court for the next decade. And meanwhile, the people of Ketchikan get nothing but misery. I don’t want Napoleonville to end up like that.”

Aemond gazes out the kitchen window and into the cicada-rattling night, faraway, pensive.

“But seriously,” you say, more casually now. “I get that it’s not your fault, Aemond. I don’t hate you or anything. You’re working for a living like anyone else. You can only do so much.”

He looks back to you and smiles vaguely. “I just go where they tell me to.”

“And that’s why you like to be in control when you’re with me.”

“Yes,” Aemond says; and on his face—strong, scarred, perfect—you can see that he is reminiscing, that he is planning what he wants to do to you next. But he can’t do any of it. Not here, not now.

“I’m sorry about…you know. The kid thing. I really didn’t think she’d be home tonight. I would never subject her to something like that, walking in to find a strange guy in the house. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m sure you think I’m lying, but I’m not. I’ve had two boyfriends since I got divorced seven years ago, and both times it didn’t last long and Cadi never met them. And it wasn’t…like it is with you. The dynamic, I mean. The…control thing. They were just normal dudes.”

“And they couldn’t satisfy you,” Aemond says, taunting, proud, setting your blood on fire.

“No. They couldn’t. Not even close.”

You both stand silently in the kitchen amidst a cascade of inconsequential noise: Eurythmics from the little pink boombox, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from Cadi’s room, cicadas and bullfrogs and the long-eared owl from the world outside that is primordial and feral and green. For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel not like the piecemeal potential of a desirable woman but whole. Aemond’s right eye traces every curve and edge of you in a way that makes you think: Maybe I will see him again after all.

“Come on,” you say, turning towards the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”

But when he steps onto the creaking porch—pulling on his Marlboro jacket, watching lightning bugs bloom like daisies in the yard—Aemond seems to be stalling. “This is lopsided,” he says, tapping the wooden boards with his Adidas sneakers.

“I know. The whole foundation is, it’s sinking. We’ll have to move eventually. But we’ve been in this place since Cadi was five, it has a lot of memories. She calls it the Fall-Down House.”

“Cute,” Aemond says, but he’s pondering something. “Do you own it?”

“Oh no, God no. We rent.”

“Are you saving for a down payment to put on a new house?”

This is a rude question. “A little,” you reply curtly. Not enough. You need to make money to save money.

“Okay.” Aemond senses your discomfort. He’s good at that; it’s an advantageous skill for a dom to possess, knowing when he’s approaching a limit long before you have to shut him down. He descends the porch steps. “I’ll be back for more of those cupcakes—” There is a shrill, alien hissing from out by the tree line. Aemond shouts and scrambles back onto the porch, throwing an arm in front of you to shield you from his enigmatic nocturnal adversary. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Just a gator,” you reassure him, amused.

“A what?”

“An alligator.” You show him the shadow that lurks beneath a young oak tree draped with Spanish moss. “She’s over there. Just stay on the gravel once you get off the porch.”

Aemond is puzzled. How does anyone live in this hellscape? his face says. “How do you know it’s a female?”

“She’s not too big, and she doesn’t bellow. But she sure loves to hiss.”

“I think alligators should have gone extinct with the rest of the dinosaurs.”

“Well, there’s a secret to dealing with them.”

“Yeah?”

You smile, skating your fingers into the sleeve of Aemond’s Marlboro jacket and up his forearm until you feel goosebumps rise on his skin. “If she gets mean, you just have to bite back.”

Aemond chuckles, turns your face towards his, kisses the apple your cheek…and then, for only a moment, his teeth close around the sensitive flesh there leaving a whirlpool of pulsing, forbidden heat. He whispers through your hair: “See you soon.”

“Will you?”

“Yes,” he says, severely now. It’s a commandment, it’s a need. “I absolutely will.”

Aemond leaves you, strides across the gravel driveway without glancing back, ducks into his car, lights a cigarette; you can see the rust-colored glow through the windshield as he takes a drag. You wait in a flurry of moths under the dim florescent bulb of the front porch until his Audi Quattro veers onto Route 401 and disappears.

I hope he meant it, you think as a lightning bug lands on your knuckles and illuminates there like the gemstone of a ring. I hope I’ll see him again.

Then you shake away the insect and go inside to see if Cadi wants to help you clean up the kitchen and get a brown sugar pie baked for tomorrow. As compensation, you’ll offer her the $10 bill Aemond gave you for the cupcakes.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Lizzi's Kinktober 2023

Day 13: Roleplay

October 28th, 2023

Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: You and Matt sneak into the church for a little roleplay.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (18+ MINORS DNI), religious imagery, blasphemy (like, this is blasphemous beyond compare), blowjob in a church, mentions of oral afab!receiving, mentions of body worship, roleplay (Matt plays a priest), hair pulling, face-fucking, wrong use of a confessional booth

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/n: I... I need holy water.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”

This is wrong. This is so wrong. But if it’s wrong, why does it feel so right?

It is filthy, perhaps even perverted, but you can’t help it.

You are doomed.

He is the apple and the snake that compelled Eve to break the most important rule in the Garden of Eden. He is the forbidden fruit and the devil himself. You weren’t supposed to have a bite of him, and still, you did because he was so convincing. He drew you in from the first word spoken between you. He compelled you to take the apple, and now you are doomed.

Matt is sitting in the confessional booth. There is not a single soul in sight other than your doomed person, on your knees in front of him. He doesn’t need the robe to appear like a priest. He’s dressed in all black, and his demeanor reminds you of the men you have so often seen giving sermons on TV.

What you are doing should guarantee you a place in hell, but right now, you couldn’t care less.

“What do you need to ask forgiveness for?” he asks you.

His hand rests on the back of your head, keeping your head close to his clothed crotch.

You swallow. The rain outside is hitting the church windows. You broke in, which is a crime, but kneeling before the man you love and asking for forgiveness is not. It can’t be.

You are not religious, far from it, and he is the only person in the world that could give you the salvation you need. It isn’t wrong, it is just right. And if you get caught, at least you had a good time.

His cock is straining against his very thin dress pants. This is his fantasy as much as it is yours, maybe even more so. You know he is ridden with guilt, but right now, he is blooming in his new role. There is no way you two would ever leave before he hasn’t finished what he started.

The floor is cold under your knees. They must be bruised by now, but you manage to tune out the pain. That is part of it. Part of life. Part of existence. And it is part of atoning for your sins.

“I have been a bad, bad girl,” you whisper into the dead of the night.

Matt shifts a bit. “How so?” he asks.

“I’ve been having… thoughts. About a man of God.”

“What kind of thoughts?” With every word, his voice grows thicker.

You blink through the fog of your arousal. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you say.

Your eyelids flutter. You look so innocent, and he can’t even see you. Only with his fingers on your face does he get an idea of what your features might look like right now. And you are hungry. Hungry for him. Hungry for more.

“I’ve been thinking about touching him–” Your palms rub his muscular thighs, “Touching him in places I should not think about touching a man of God.”

You can hear him suck in a sharp breath in the darkness of the booth. He shifts again. “And do you think God would forgive you for something like that?” he says. “Wanting a man of God to fuck you senseless? To touch you? To touch him?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer.

“Have you been thinking about him in church?”

“Yes.”

What terrifies you most about this is that if he were a priest, a real priest with a robe and responsibilities, you would still think about him bending you over the altar and worshipping you. You would dream about him taking you to the confessional booth, forcing you to atone for your sins. You would dream about his hands around your neck, choking you to the point you get dizzy, and repeatedly calling you a bad girl. Because that is what you are.

“You really have been bad,” Matt murmurs. He caresses the back of your head. “Luckily, your God is forgiving.”

You blink up at him. “He is?” you ask.

“Yeah. If you are willing to repent for your sins.”

When he shifts this time, his free hand goes to his belt. He unbuckles it, letting the leather fall to the floor. You don’t move. Not even when he opens the button, then his zipper, and then reaches into his boxers to take out his hard cock.

You drool, but you don’t move. It just so happens that the moon shines through the small window and shines a light on him in all his glory, with his cock out and his cheeks flushed.

Matt Murdock is an ethereal sight you can never get enough of, even when he is pretending to be a priest. For him, you will be as bad as you can be. You have no choice. You want to be.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

He takes his cock into his hand, giving it a few pumps before pulling your head closer. A moment of deafening silence follows. Thunder rumbles. The rain reminds you of the pool in your underwear, making it hard to stay still.

Matt lets out a shaky breath as he guides his cock to your lips. “Open,” he says. His voice wavers slightly.

You do as you’re told, but you look up at him, still awaiting an answer.

A smile finds its way to his lips, and it is as dark as the booth itself. He opens his mouth again. “Atone,” he says.

And in an instant, he has fucked his cock down your throat.

You choke around his girth. Tears spring to your eyes. The head meets the back of your throat, and you gag, but you don’t force him away. You keep your hands on his thighs and your head bowed low, and you let him fuck your mouth like there is no tomorrow.

He asked you to atone. To be forgiven for your sins, you need to do this. You are his to play with. You are his to own. Right now, at least. Right now, that is all you want to be. His fucktoy. His means to get rid of pent-up frustration. His way of living out his darkest fantasies.

You are so wet, you pray to God that you don’t leave a stain on the floor. But does it matter? He will fuck you over the altar later. He will spread your legs and bury his head between your thighs. He will let you pull his hair and fuck his mouth the same way he is doing to you because that is his way of repenting. Then it is his turn to atone, when he is no longer the priest but the disciple, and you are his goddess that he prays to.

“Hail, Mary, full of grace,” Matt chokes out between heavy thrusts into the tight confines of your mouth. He can’t even hear anything but the sound of yours and his breathing, and his needy moans that fill the air. “The Lord is with thee,” he continues, but he is having a hard time forming the words.

You have heard him pray before but during sex? While he is fucking your mouth like a madman? That is new. It makes your pussy clench around thin air, and your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs. The pain only makes him moan louder. It is heaven to your ears.

“Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb–” He grits his teeth. “Jesus!”

You gag again, his cock now forced even deeper. You can’t breathe, not even through your nose. The lack of oxygen is making you feel all kinds of things, but certainly none of them bad.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,” he says, “Now and at the hour of our death.”

He thrusts and he thrusts, and with a harsh pull on your hair, he forces you off his cock. “Amen,” he almost cries out as his balls tighten, and he comes all over your face.

There is not an inch that is not covered by his seed, by the very essence of him. His cum slithers down your throat toward your breasts.

Another rumble of thunder strikes the church. The clock strikes midnight.

You look up at him through hooded eyes. He’s panting, his chest heaving, but for the first time in weeks, he looks content.

“Amen,” you whisper back.

So, you have finally atoned, and now, it is his turn.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @ravenclaw617 @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch

Also tagging: @blackshadowswriter @1988-fiend

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock imagines #smut #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #roleplay #charlie cox #lizzi writes #x reader

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i-am-grell · 8 months ago

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Grell's Anime List

Hello! If you're new here, Tumblr chooses what anime I watch via polls because I don’t wanna make decisions.

Below the cut is the list of things I’ve seen, am currently making progress on, and want to watch in the future. If you don’t see your fave on here and think I’ll like it, send me a rec.

Currently Watching: Natsume's Book of Friends

Finished (Not Expecting More Seasons)

Ace Attorney // Angel Beats! // Assassination Classroom // Attack on Titan // Banana Fish // Buddy Daddies // The Case Study of Vanitas // Castlevania // Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! // Cute High Earth Defense Club Love! // Daily Lives of High School Boys // Danganronpa: The Animation, Danganronpa 3 // Death Note // The Disastrous Life of Saiki K., The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.: Reawakened // DRAMAtical Murder // Free! Iwatobi Swim Club, Free! Eternal Summer, High☆Speed! Free! Starting Days, Free! -Take Your Marks-, Free! Dive to the Future, Free! The Final Stroke // Fruits Basket (2001), Fruits Basket 2019 // Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood // Gakuen Babysitters // Hetalia: Axis Powers, Hetalia: World Series, Hetalia: Beautiful World, Hetalia: The World Twinkle, Hetalia: World Stars, Hetalia: Paint It White // Horimiya, Horimiya: The Missing Pieces // Life Lessons with Uramichi-Oniisan // Love Stage!! // Mob Psycho 100 // Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun // Moriarty the Patriot // Ouran High School Host Club // Sasaki and Miyano, Sasaki and Miyano: Graduation Arc // Soul Eater // Tribe Nine // Yuri!! On ICE

Caught Up (Waiting For New Content)

Beastars // Black Butler // Bungo Stray Dogs // Chainsaw Man // Dandadan // Delicious in Dungeon // Jujutsu Kaisen // Komi Can't Communicate // Mashle // Ranma 1/2 (2024) // SK8 the Infinity // Spy x Family // Zombie Land Saga + Zombie Land Saga Revenge

Have To Finish

*[] Brackets used to specify what I need to watch next.

Blue Exorcist [Season 4] // Fairy Tail [Season 3 onward] // Haikyuu!! [The Dumpster Battle] // My Hero Academia [You’re Next] // One Piece [Season 9 onward] // Pokemon [Black & White onward] // Sailor Moon SuperS // Voltron: Legendary Defender

Want to Watch

Aggretsuko // Ameku M.D.: Doctor Detective // Angels of Death // Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day // Another // The Apothecary Diaries // Attack on Titan: Junior High // Baban Baban Ban Vampire // Bakuman // Black Clover // Bleach // Bloom Into You // Blue Lock // Blue Period // Blue Spring Ride // Bocchi the Rock! // Bungo Stray Dogs Wan! // Call of the Night // Cardcaptor Sakura // Castlevania: Nocturne // Cells at Work! // Charlotte // Code:Breaker // Cowboy Bebop // Deadman Wonderland // Death Parade // Demon Slayer // Devils' Line // Erased // Fire Force // Frieren: Beyond Journey's End // Food Wars! // Girlfriend, Girlfriend // Girls Band Cry // Given // Go for It, Nakamura! (2025) // Grand Blue Dreaming // Great Pretender // Gushing over Magical Girls // The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't a Guy at All (Forthcoming) // Handa-kun // Heaven Official's Blessing // Honey Lemon Soda // Hunter x Hunter // I Have a Crush at Work/Can You Keep a Secret? // I May Be a Guild Receptionist, But I'll Solo Any Boss to Clock Out on Time // Inuyasha // Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night // Kaguya-sama: Love is War // Kamisama Kiss // Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You // K-On! // KonoSuba: God's Blessing on This Wonderful World! // Koro Sensei Quest! // Kuroko's Basketball // Link Click // Maid Sama! // Medaka Kuroiwa Is Impervious to My Charms // The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya // Momentary Lily // Mr. Villain's Day Off // My Happy Marriage // My New Boss is Goofy // Nana // Naruto // Nichijou - My Ordinary Life // Nisekoi: False Love // Noragami // One Punch Man // Orange // Parasyte // Plastic Memories // Psycho-Pass // Puella Magi Madoka Magica // Revolutionary Girl Utena // Romantic Killer // Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions // Sakamoto Days // See You Tomorrow at the Food Court (2025) // Senpai is an Otokonoko // Seraph of the End // Shikimori's Not Just a Cutie // A Sign of Affection // Skip and Loafer // Snow White with the Red Hair // Soul Eater Not! // The Summer Hikaru Died (2025) // Talentless Nana // A Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School // Terror in Resonance // Tokyo Ghoul // Tokyo Revengers // Twilight Out of Focus // The Vampire Dies in No Time // Violet Evergarden // The Way of the Househusband // Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun // Whisper Me a Love Song // Wind Breaker // Witch Watch (2025) // Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku // Yakuza Fiance // Your Lie in April // Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead

#pinned post #anime polls #anime #anime list #my anime list

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sad-boys-book-club · 4 months ago

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"&" Ampersand - A Literary Companion: Eve & Paradise Lost

Hey everyone!

Let’s continue feeding my unhealthy obsession with Bastille by diving into the literary companion I created for “&”. Today, we’re talking about the second track: Eve & Paradise Lost. (Now that the album is out, I can finally follow the tracklist properly!)

In case you missed it, here’s my post about Intros & Narrators.

Before we jump into the book picks for this song, I want to apologize for the delay in writing this. I’ve had some family stuff going on, moved houses and also wanted to make sure I had read both books before recommending them.

Actually, I plan to take some time to go over the whole list of stories I’ve picked—I want to read them all thoroughly so I know exactly what I’m recommending to you all (some of them, I've already read, but I want to revisit them as well).

Now, let’s talk about the song. I find it fascinating to see a male songwriter like Dan taking on a woman’s perspective for a project that explores different stories. The official statement about the song stood out to me: “This song is about the burdens of loving women cruelly made to feel blame and shame from the dawn of time.” It’s clear Dan’s an artist who engages with feminist writings, and that’s something I truly appreciate—especially given how rare it is in the music industry, particularly for someone who presents as a straight, white male.

Cat Bohannon — Eve: How the Female Body Drove 200 Million Years of Human Evolution

The title character from the song. Probably the most cited figure from the Bible. A staple in paintings and literature for the past two thousand years. The first sinner. Eve remains a pillar of the Western collective imagination, her meaning changing a lot throughout the decades. From the representation of female sexual desire, scapegoating her for condemning the entire human race to death by eating the forbidden fruit (can you tell I went to Catholic school?), to being seen as the first example of female rage in the face of oppression. She embodies the complexities of womanhood—temptation, sin, and defiance—all wrapped into a single character.

Cat Bohannon’s book couldn’t be further from this. With a PhD from Columbia in the evolution of narrative, Bohannon explores why, in an age when we often see medical and science knowledge as some sort of truth, we still somehow have a very male-centric view of the human body.

By reexamining all the different potential Eves we have in the history of human evolution—that’s how she chooses to call all the ‘hypothetical female ancestors’ in our shared Homo sapiens lineage—, Bohannon urges us to reconsider and reshape our understanding of how our knowledge of the human body has often ignored half the world’s population.

As someone who enjoys reading non-fiction books (happy to share a few of my all-time favorites in the comments to whoever is interested), I found this book a really insightful, at times infuriating, eye-opening view into how sad it is that, for much of documented history, women have been seen as just men with breasts and wombs bolted on. The author is especially conscious of how sex (influenced by chromosomes, physiology, and hormones) and gender (how we identify, behave in our environment, and interact with one another) are not the same thing. She often adds notes to point out how science ignoring the female body and all its narratives has even worse consequences for trans and nonbinary folks, which I found really well-done and necessary in today’s age.

I picked this book as a companion to the song mainly because of the “rolled your eyes at pain you'll never comprehend” line, but I think it is a solid read on its own. I certainly learned a lot about my own body during the 15 hours I listened to the audiobook.

John Milton — Paradise Lost

So, Paradise Lost—the epic poem that pops up on pretty much every English Lit syllabus. Quick and snappy plot summary before we dive in: It’s a 12-part epic that covers Satan’s dramatic fall from Heaven, the creation of Adam and Eve, their blissful (but short-lived) days in Eden, the infamous temptation, and their ultimate eviction from paradise. Along the way, there’s a war in Heaven (didn’t exactly keep me on the edge of my seat), plus some deep philosophical chats between Raphael and Adam about creation, God, and, well, everything. It’s basically theological fanfiction (I mean it in the most neutral way possible).

Milton, being the good Puritan he was, used these stories to dig into free will, predestination, and conscience. It’s hard not to see Satan as a rebel leader and God as the authority figure, especially when you remember Milton was writing during the English Civil War.

The poem was widely known but highly controversial and criticized during Milton’s lifetime, however, during the Romantic period, poets like Shelley and Byron “reclaimed” Milton’s Satan as a tragic antihero figure.

Anyway, I had to dig out my old uni notes (and hit up some audiobooks) to brush up on Eve’s role in this whole mess. And let me tell you, there’s a lot to unpack. Mainly because: a) as is often the case with old poetry, there’s a lot to read between the lines; b) classics come with a million different interpretations, and c) there are a few different versions, depending on the edition you read, so it’s easy to get lost in the variations of text, footnotes, and commentaries. (And also d) I won’t lie, it’s a slow, heavy read. At times, I had to resort to the audiobook just to get through some of the passages!)

Here’s what stood out this time around: Eve’s role is seriously hard to pin down, as Milton's relation to gender politics has been scrutinized since, well, pretty much since it was published in the 17th century. (Yeah, I had to pull out good old Google Scholar, watch some lectures on YouTube, and, of course, dive into Muses: An Ampersand Podcast—thanks, Dan and, mostly, Emma.)

What I really enjoyed was reading some modern articles that analyze Eve’s character through the lens of feminism which ties into the song’s exploration of blame and shame—no Wild World pun intended.

First of all, when Eve is introduced to Adam in Paradise Lost, Milton has her momentarily distracted by her own reflection in a pool of water, a subtle but significant parallel to the myth of Narcissus (hint hint). It’s an early indication of how susceptible to being misled she will be later on. But it also plays into this idea that her curiosity and desire—whether for knowledge or just, you know, herself—are somehow “dangerous.”

Now, Eve gets the blame for the Fall because she’s tempted by Satan to snack on the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Sure, she’s tricked, but let’s not pretend it’s all the serpent’s fault—once the idea is planted, it’s Eve who talks herself (and Adam) into it. That shows some sense of agency on her part, right? She wasn’t just a passive, helpless victim; she wanted to prove herself, to be tested, and she took action.

Milton is giving her a bit of credit for having a mind of her own, even if it’s wrapped up in this narrative of downfall. Eve’s curiosity and independence—qualities we might admire today—become her so-called "fatal flaws" here. So, yes, the story punishes female agency, but it’s undeniably there. And in a world where women were (and still are) often written as powerless, it’s refreshing to see Eve at least take some control, even if the outcome is a bit... unfortunate.

Now, let’s be real, this whole negative portrayal of Eve isn’t shocking. Milton was writing in a time where misogyny was baked into pretty much everything (which, sadly, isn’t all that different from now). Eve’s agency and sexuality are framed as the ultimate cautionary tale: women’s sexuality and agency are seen as inherently dangerous and something that inevitably leads to moral fallings.

But despite it all, towards the later part of Paradise Lost, Eve does get a kind of redemption arc. I came across one scholar who referred to the concept of felix culpa, a phrase in Catholic tradition meaning "happy fault" or "blessed fall." Eve might be responsible for humanity’s downfall, but her actions also set the stage for the coming of Christ, making her "mistake" a necessary part of the larger divine plan. It’s a bit of a paradox—how can something so disastrous lead to something so positive?—but the idea is that certain misfortunes can eventually lead to greater good.

Milton leans into this in Book 12, where Adam says:

"O goodness infinite, Goodness immense! That all this good of evil shall produce, And evil turn to good; more wonderful Than that which creation first brought forth, Light out of Darkness!"

So, in a roundabout way, Eve’s fall isn’t all doom and gloom—she’s the necessary catalyst that sets God's plan into motion. In fact, scholars have started to reframe Eve’s role in Paradise Lost as something more empowering than it initially appears. Traditionally, Eve’s been seen as the ultimate cautionary tale, blamed for humanity’s fall and cast as a symbol of female weakness and danger. But if you look closely, there’s something subversive in the way she’s actually the mover of the entire plot.

Eve isn’t just sitting around passively following orders—she actively makes the decision to eat the fruit, which, yes, brings about the fall, but it’s also what triggers the eventual coming of Christ and the possibility of redemption. Without her action, we’d all be hanging out in Eden, stuck in a static, sheltered existence. In a way, this is Eve taking control of her fate, making a choice, even if it’s framed as "wrong."

Plus, while Milton definitely punishes Eve, her agency is undeniable. Adam is kind of an afterthought in the whole thing—Eve is the one who steps outside the box, embraces curiosity, and disrupts the status quo. To modern feminist readers, that kind of defiance (even if it’s punished) reflects the strength of a woman asserting her independence. Raphael even calls her "the mother of humankind," acknowledging her dual role. She is both chaos and creation—a symbol of disruption but also the source of life. So, in a way, Eve’s choice is what makes humanity... well, human.

I like how in the song, there’s also a sense of Eve having an agency and a mind of her own. The chorus highlights Eve’s struggle with the idea of being “made for” Adam—“When they say I was made for you... made from you”—and the frustration of biting her tongue, which relates to how her love for Adam intertwines with her need for independence.

That’s it for this post! I’ll be back soon with more book picks for the next track. Let me know if you’ve read these or if you have any thoughts!

Feel free to share your thoughts and any other book suggestions as well!

With love,

Cat

#mine #bastille #dan smith bastille #dan smith #dan bastille #ampersand #&#literature #paradise lost #eve #john milton

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 2 years ago

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Seeing Ian in season 1 puts into perspective the amount of BS he had to go through. Like when I think of things I wish were addressed with more weight, Ian's abuse at the hands of older men is one of them. I know Ian doesn't see it that way but others do (Mickey and Lip) and it feels like it's constantly glossed over. Lip says he wanted to call the police on Kash but he couldn't bring himself to do it. A scene of that would've reinforced just how wrong it is, instead of the situation ending with Kash is a sad middle-aged man and that's why Ian shouldn't want him. Not, Kash is a predator and Ian is a victim.

We can also talk about how both Lip and Debbie are victims of grooming. Grooming was never seriously addressed on the show.

i’m actually so pissed that grooming was never addressed as it was such a big issue for ian, debbie, lip, and also kind of carl but not really (with lori i think her name was, his boss). the only time grooming is ever brought up is with tami but it’s just a one episode thing and it’s irrelevant to the plot tbh.

ian’s situation devastates me because he never ends up thinking it’s wrong. he was constantly objectified by these older men he was with, too. to them he was seen as just a “boy toy” or the “forbidden fruit”. not only were his relationships with kash and ned creepy, but the guys at the club, too. for example, the one who dragged him out of the club, barely conscious, after giving him a roofie. ian graciously accepted the pill like he was used to it, and he probably was. he let this guy drug and grope him, and i always see people saying “imagine what would’ve happened if mickey hadn’t come” and i’ll tell you what would’ve happened, he would’ve been raped. and i can guarantee you with how used to it he was, it had happened before. and i’ll say more about this with lip and debbie, but i firmly believe the reason he indulged into these relationships was to fill the void frank created.

debbie’s situation is also devastating. if you recall, when lip was trying to convince ian that what happened with kash was wrong/grooming people is wrong, he said “ok so what if it was debbie and a 30 year old dude”, ironically, in the next season she gets with a 20 year old dude who for some fucking reason, a good percentage of the fandom sympathizes with/sides with. here’s the real deal: matty groomed her. he was into her, knowing she was 13, but didn’t want to have sex with her, in fear of himself going to prison. prison was the only thing stopping him, he said it himself that he thought she was sexy and wanted to. and before anyone says anything about how debbie did tell him she was 16 at first when he first started to like her, he could obviously tell. the point was that it was obvious she was lying. and yeah, what debbie did was wrong. i’ve said a lot about this before, but what he did was wrong, too. he led her on, flirted with her, promised to have sex with her, slept in the same bed as her, and also talked to all of her friends for some reason, he was a creep!! no grown adult should be hanging out/flirting with an adolescent girl, and it scares me that people defend him. like i said with ian, she was trying to fill a void. not only that, but she was mirroring fiona’s actions. she had seen her sister get into unhealthy relationships, so she did just. and the worst thing was debbie didn’t even like him, it was just comphet. so it was some adult with a one-sided crush on a teenager. creepy. at this time, frank was dying and fiona was working/locked up, she needed attention because she was lacking it, so she went to him for it because she knew he’d give her it.

lip’s situation i have less to say about because technically, he was an adult, but regardless, it was creepy as fuck. more so, his attachment to her was creepy. this is what happens when you get groomed, you grow attached. and lip was so fucking attached it destroyed him when she ignored him. like his siblings, this was to fill the void a parent created. but this time, frank isn’t responsible, monica is. i’ve never really spoken about this despite having a lot to say, but lip and monica’s relationship effects him a lot. i hate to say this, but he’s treated women like shit because of it (i’m not saying he always does, but he has- i’ll explain more in depth sometime) and his mother abandoning him clearly altered his perspective on women. i think that monica leaving made him (and every other sibling, especially debbie) grow attached easily, and i think it also made him lose respect for some women because he just saw his mom in them. i saw a post that explains this a lot better than i am right now so if i find it i’ll definitely link it so it makes more sense.

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twilightmalachite · 1 year ago

Text

Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 4

Author: Akira

Characters: Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"I don’t think I’d be able t’stand bein’ in the one I love’s way."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Shu’s Atelier (Paris)

Raffaello: “Conversely, my mother was poor at creating works from scratch using her own imagination, and instead reproduced natural objects like such.”

“Perhaps that is why her name is unknown to the public, despite possessing such a high level of skill.”

“No matter how elaborate the “fakes” my mother makes, they will always pale in comparison to the “real thing” in nature created by God.”

“If she had spread her wings of fantasy and created something that did not exist in reality, the masses might have taken interest, but…”

“I’ve said this many times, but my mother had no interest in that side of things.”

“She had no desire for fame or recognition. Her works were made for herself as a hobby in private.”

Mika: Nnah~… I do kinda admire that, too. ♪

Raffaello: “…My father evaluated my mother as an unparalleled prodigy artist, and insisted his money on her to purchase her work.”

“But the moment he did that, while her wallet was enriched, my mother’s “own world” was invaded and defiled.”

Mika: ……

“After that exchange with my father, my mother immediately ceased making dolls, which she had done passionately until then.”

“My mother had lost “something” important to her the moment she had exchanged something she had loved for money.”

Mika: She was a delicate person, huh… I’ve also fallen into slumps over trivial things though, so I feel I can understand her a lil’.

Raffaello: “Ah, so you understand her. I’m not able to.”

“If such a capricious man was willing to fork up ridiculous sums for her work, why not continue to create and sell them?”

“If she had done so, she could have built a fortune by now.”

Mika: Did it make life difficult for ya, Raffaello-san? ‘Cause she didn’t make enough…?

Raffaello: “Not particularly. I just think it was quite the waste.”

“I’m a materialist, after all.”

“And. I do not know what perception you have of him, but the world seems to overrate him, and treat him like some great man—”

“My father, and Shu’s grandfather, was a materialist just like myself.”

“I suppose you could call me a realist. I believe only in what I can see.”

“Such is why I am often angry at those who’d rather appreciate faith and other fanciful things they cannot see.”

“Rather, that's why my mother would attempt to perfectly, sophisticatedly “reproduce” what actually does exist, what can be seen—”

“Perhaps my father fell in love with her technique and work.”

“I’m sure he saw my mother as a God who created all things with her own hands.”

“My mother was my father’s God.”

“However, the God he worshiped was a living human of flesh and blood.”

“That is where the cause of all misfortune had lain.”

Mika: What do ya mean by that…?

Raffaello: “Because my father ate the forbidden fruit.”

“He did what no person is allowed to do. My father, who loved my mother, did what he thought was natural to do as a man grounded in reality at the time—He proposed to my mother.”

“He proposed to the very God he worshiped and even had a child; myself. Surely even you know that such a thing is inherently unforgivable.”

“God is meant to be worshiped at a distance. However my father, my mother’s sole believer, embraced his God and made her “his property”.”

“I recognize that it is outdated to say a woman is a man’s property, but bear with me. It was a time where that was just how things were.”

“But, as a result, the inherently impossible situation of man owning God was brought about—Everything fell apart.”

“It’s like a devout believer dismantling the cross and using it as firewood to keep warm. My father must have been greatly worried about it too, he must have felt like he was Judas Iscariot.”

“That, and my father had a fiancée arranged for him by his parents back at home. He had betrayed this “fated partner” of his and fell in love with a dollmaker he met in a foreign country.”

“And even had a child with her.”

“I’m sure you know how serious an “error” that was at a time where marriage was for the sake of connecting two families.”

“He’d committed the greatest injustice to his family, worthy of disownment.”

“My father surely was prepared for that. Perhaps he cared more about the woman he had fallen in love with than his house or the fortune inherited from his ancestors.”

“I suppose you could call it youthful indiscretion.”

“However, my mother stepped aside in consideration of my father’s position.”

“She disappeared completely from my father’s life, and to this day, not a single member of the Itsuki family knows of her presence.”

“That was my mother’s own best way of thanking the man who loved her and her work.”

“No, it was how she loved.”

Mika: That’s… such a cruel and painful story.

If I were in the same position, I’d… Ahh, yeah, I’d probably end up disappearin’ as well.

I don’t think I’d be able t’stand bein’ in the one I love’s way.

Raffaello: “I cant sympathize with it at all. Rather, that is why I’ve gone as far as to trample on my mother’s tragic resolve, by “appearing” in front of you all.”

“I am the very sin my father has committed.”

“At the very least, I would like to remind the man who destroyed my mother’s life of “that”, before he peacefully passes away and is memorialized as a great man.”

“No, I want to accuse that man of sin. It is too late for him to atone for what he’s done, but I do not want to let him pretend this never happened.”

“I will point at the grandfather of the Itsuki family, respected by all, and tell him he’s nothing but a filthy sinner.”

“Of course, it’s not like doing that would never make my mother happy. She has already passed away, not any type of offering can bring comfort to the dead.”

“However. At the very least, I’d like to confront a man, who claims to be a realist, with the “reality” he pretended not to see for his entire life.”

“Before he dies, before he goes to heaven, I’d like to bring to him what he had forgotten.”

“And if by doing so, if that man could remember my mother and regret it, even if only for a moment at the end of his life…”

“If he could understand that this supposedly flawless, perfect life of his is a castle of sand built upon a lie, if he could regret his superficial life he built…”

“Only then will that man’s sin of destroying a woman’s life will finally become even.”

Mika: ……

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

#raison d’être #raison d'etre #mika kagehira #translation #event

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thefakehedgehogaroundhere · 1 year ago

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this isn’t about the hogs…

I… want to get into the Hazbin Hotel fandoms but idk if I wanna actually watch the show cuz I’m a kid and like I don’t care about swearing but yknow…

and like maybe I should just watch comps of it for an understanding of the characters… but like also I need plot n stuff and I’ve seen you reblog it so like

idk

can you give me a rundown of the show?

if you can’t/don’t want to just answer this ask with no or smth

please and thank you

(Don’t make a hazbin sonic au k?)

You got it! I do want to warn you tho: The show contains violence, death, abuse, sex, and suicidal ideation.

The prologue is just Lucifer likes free thinking, so he steals Adam's wife Lilith and then they trick Adam and his new wife Eve into eating the forbidden fruit, and now hell exists.

The princess of Hell, Charlie, is trying to redeem sinners to avoid overpopulation without the same cruel tactics of keeping the population down that Heaven uses- mass extermination once a year. To do this, she opens a hotel called the Happy Hotel that rehabilitates sinners, that she runs with the help of her girlfriend Vaggie and her friend Angel Dust.

Unfortunately for her image, Angel is currently engaged in a turf war with a demon named Sir Pentious, fighting alongside his best friend Cherri Bomb. Which. Yknow. Not exactly helping him redeem himself.

After a bit, a fearsome demon named Alastor appears at the door, offering to help Charlie run the hotel- not to rehabilitate sinners, but to be entertained when said sinners fail. He introduces Niffty to be the maid, and Husk to be the bartender (who Angel immediately begins flirting with). Alastor beats up Sir Pentious, renames the hotel to Hazbin instead of Happy, and that's the end of the pilot.

I cant explain every single episode in great detail- especially if you decide to watch it- so these descriptions are gonna be much more brief. 1 paragraph per episode, MAX.

Charlie's dad, Lucifer, lets her go to a meeting with Heaven, where she's introduced to Adam- the first man and head of the exterminators. He disagrees with her plan to redeem sinners, since he doesn't think they can change, and moves the next extermination to half a year from now.

Sir Pentious returns for another fight with Alastor. We're next introduced to the Vees- three powerful demons named Vox, Valentino, and Velvette. While Vox and Alastor have a rivalry, Pentious has actually been sent into the Hotel by the Vees to act like he wants redemption, but actually just to infiltrate them. After Vox tells him to kill himself (im not kidding), Charlie allows him a chance to redeem himself, which he takes. Vaggie and Angel are pretty pissed about this but it's fine

Alastor goes to a meeting with the other overlords (just demons that have massive power, specifically over certain territories), where Velvette starts talking trash to Carmilla- an overlord who also sells weapons. Velvette accuses her of killing an angel that was found headless in Hell after an extermination, and later it's revealed to Vaggie that she DID kill the angel to protect her children. She doesn't want the secret to slip, because if Heaven finds out, it means war.

Angel is revealed to be in an abusive relationship with Valentino. He's a porn star, and Val is his director and boss. Charlie, blissfully unaware, tries to get him off work for the day to do trust exercises, but Val threatens Angel that he'll hurt Charlie if he can't make her leave. Angel lashes out, shoots the porn, and returns to the hotel bar with Husk to drink away his sorrows. Husk tries to get him to open up, so he leaves for another bar. Husk follows him there too, and he explains that Angel isn't the only one who's damaged and that they're both losers.

Lucifer shows up and is depressed, and he has a rivalry with Alastor about who is the better dad. Al's friend Mimzy shows up out of nowhere, lore-dumps, and then it turned out she just went to the hotel to escape the cops because she stole a car. Alastor politely tells her to fuck off. Charlie and Lucifer have a conversation about how the hotel could work, with Charlie pushing Lucifer to let her go to Heaven and try to make her argument in person. He caves, and Charlie excitedly tells Vaggie she's coming too.

Charlie and Vaggie arrive in Heaven, and are introduced to an angel named Sera and her daughter Emily. Charlie and Emily agree that sinners should have the chance to be redeemed, which Adam again shuts down, saying that they had their chance. Vaggie is revealed by Adam to be a fallen angel- and not just an angel, but one of the exterminators, punished to life in Hell because she saved a child. Charlie begins fearing for what else Vaggie could be lying about, but before she can panic more, the opposing viewpoints turn Heaven and Hell to battle. Also, the whole time this is going on, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Pentious, and Cherri are getting drinks, and seeing the supposed "redeemed souls" drinking is actually what sells it to the angels that they can't be saved.

Everyone prepares for the battle. Charlie and Vaggie make up, Vaggie trains with Carmilla, Angel, Husk, and Niffty spend more time together, Pentious catches feels for Cherri, and the Vees get their popcorn ready. Pentious tries to tell Cherri he's interested for like the whole episode and ends up just saying "please don't die ok bye"

Battle. Alastor put up a force field around the hotel. It stops working. Angel and Husk make sex jokes while committing several counts of murder, Niffty stabs anything she can see, Alastor and Adam fight but Alastor turns into a puddle and leaves, Pentious kisses Cherri and then fucking dies, and Charlie and Vaggie are fighting side by side. Lucifer shows up and tells Adam "you get no bitches because I stole them both", and then Niffty stabs Adam to death. Everyone sings and then HOLY SHIT PENTIOUS MADE IT TO HEAVEN

#can't make a hazbin sonic au anyway bc someone did that already lmaoo #faker's askbox #faker and friends #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers

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soridwritierlovesculture · 1 year ago

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CONTENTS- one shot, younger sister x older brothers best friend (both over 18yrs of age), smut, swearing\vulgar language, mentions of SA, mentions of alcohol

Anora stumbled as Alex pulled her into the bathroom and closed the door. He gripped her by the hair and pulled her over to the toilet, and when he shoved his fingers into her mouth Anora bit down, hard, glaring at him as he hissed and tightened his grip.

“You need to puke, now.”

“Wuck ooh a-ol!”

“You’re usually smarter than this, since when do you just let someone get your drinks? That dipshit you were talking to and the guy he was with? Last time he was around here, some girls were found beat up in a motel the next day, and one of them was seen leaving a planned parenthood a month later. No reports that anyone knows of, but you can put two and two together.”

Anora froze, then snarled as he pushed his fingers deeper before choking and bending over the toilet as what little she’d eaten came up. Alex still had his grip on her hair, and when she was done he pulled her up and turned her to the sink, finally letting go when she turned on the water. Rinsing her mouth out, Anora glared at him through the mirror before turning to slap him, hard, her wet hand leaving a red print around his beard almost immediately, and he met her eyes with a glare of his own.

“You’re a pain the ass you know that?”

“Then leave me the fuck already!”

“I would if you’d use the brain we both you have and quit making my life difficult.”

“I’m not the one who’s so emotionally stunted he turns into a caveman when his best and only friend goes away.”

“No, you’re just the liar who’d rather pretend that everything is going exactly as planned than face the reality of the consequences your actions have.”

“Yes I’m a liar fine, but you haven’t exactly been a saint yourself Alex. Does Ashley know you’ve been watching your besties little sister less than subtly rather than doing your part for the wedding, because as your fiance that’s certainly something she should know.”

“Ashley and I called off the engagement months ago,” Alex said, stepping into her as she backed into the sink, “and that doesn’t absolve you of all the silly shit you’ve been doing. You lied to Dick about work, you lied to your mom and friends about your piece of shit ex, you lied to ex about me, and you’ve lied to me about everything. I had to find out from Rachel fucking Furman about tonight, and that’s only because she still wants to fuck me to fuck with you.”

“Go and fuck her then. You couldn’t keep up with me anyway, so go fuck her or Ashley or whoever else you want, and let me live.”

“Can’t fuck who I want. She’s my best friends baby sister and I can’t stand liars.”

Anora blinked at him, then scoffed and pushed him back, leaving the bathroom to go to her room. Alex followed her, closing the door behind him, and Anora took of her heels as she smirked at him.

“So let me get this straight. Since Dick left, when you insulated me, insulted my friends, badgered me about Ethan and that whole situation, came to my job and nearly got me fired, followed me to and from my classes and work, fucked your fiance… sorry ex fiance apparently, in front of me and then berated me for it, and then just now dragged me away from a stress relieving activity to then force your fingers down my throat, all of that was because you wanted to fuck me? Are you stupid? You realize the whole ‘ he bullies you because he likes you’ thing is both juvenile and toxic yes?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? When did this even happen, we’ve known each other for years and all of a sudden you’re interested? What, do you have some forbidden fruit kink or something?”

“You really think this is happening just because you’re Dicks sister? Besides, we both know you’ve been watching me as much as I’ve been watching you, maybe just as long.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about you,” Anora said, but her heart was racing. He knew? All this time, he knew about her stupid crush and did nothing? That made this even more ridiculous. Alex strode over to her and held her waist, pulling her into him, and Anora glared up at him as he smirked down at her.

“You’re still lying.”

“And you’re still an asshole. Let go of me.”

“Not a chance. I want you to admit what you did tonight was stupid and reckless.”

“Fuck you. I’m not sleeping with you just because you’re bored and horny and I’m the only person around. That’s the only reason you really want to fuck me right?”

“Not even close.”

“Now who’s lying?”

“Only you.”

“Tell you what. Let’s both tell one truth, and then you get the hell out of my room.”

“You couldn’t keep up with me.”

“Try me.”

Alex pushed her back then, and Anora gritted her teeth as he went over her and pressed his leg between hers, her skirt coming up as he ground his knee against her pussy. Pulling her hands above her head , Alex then held both in one hand while he pressed down on her stomach with the other, and when she bit her lip to keep the sound building in her throat down, he smirked down at her before leaning to whisper into her ear.

“I have this fantasy where after I fuck you six ways to Sunday and back, I wake up with my cock still buried inside you. I’ll watch you wonder why you feel so warm, and when you move your hips to milk me dry, I pin you down and kiss that pretty neck of yours when you realize you’ve been caught and lie again, saying ‘I’m not into this’ or ‘it means nothing’. I’ll say, ‘look at my pretty girl, stuffed with cum and still so hungry,’ and your filthy fucking mouth will open up for me when I put my fingers down your throat again, just for fun. I’ll get to push deeper into you and listen to every sound that limp dick Ethan could never fuck out of you, and when you come I’ll say, ‘there’s my naughty little liar’, and you’ll lie again. You’ll say you’re not mine or that he did it better, but I’ll know. I know every time you lie because you bite that lip and tap your fingers when you do, and I’ll be so deep inside you I’ll feel your heartbeat through your pussy and fuck you again, and again, and again. I’ll fuck the lies right out of that mouth, and you’ll never tell me another one because you’ll be too busy gulping around my dick when I empty it in this pretty throat of yours. And the reason all that’s gonna stay a fantasy, the real honest to God truth why I don’t rip off this skirt and finally taste you, is because even though I want you so much I lose my mind a little more every day, your brothers my best friend, my family, and I’d rather have only one of you in my life than lose both of you.”

Alex let go of her then, his body tense and breath heavy, and Anora swallowed as she shook from the sudden loss of heat. She could see the hard on through his jeans, and she watched as he flexed his hands before balling them into fists at his sides, his eyes on her tits as she fought to steady her breath. The whole time he’d spoke, she could swore she could feel every moment. She could feel his warm, his touch, how heavy he’d be on her body, how hard he would move inside her, how his hands would move across her burning skin, how his breath would feel on her body.

“Well,” Alex said, his voice tight as he glared down at her, “your turn Terror. Tell me one truth, the whole truth, and I’ll walk out of here right now.”

“…I want you to. I’ve wanted you to do that and more for years, and I hate it. I hate that I want you. I hate where you stand in my life. I hate you for always being there and knowing it means nothing. I decided to move on, but you always being around makes it hard. So I bury it. I bury it with work and sex and lies, and I’ve made myself get used to not having you, because I know you never could be mine. I know I’m a liar, and I’ll lie every day to keep the truth buried so deep I forget it’s even there. I want you, but I also hate you. And I think that little fantasy of yours would be the best and worst thing to happen to us.”

They looked at each other in silence for what felt like forever, and then Alex took a deep breath, and walked away, leaving Anora alone in the darkness of her room.

#brothers best friend #smut #oneshot #younger sister

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sinelanguage · 1 year ago

Text

more art museum posting, this time from tokyo. as always this is just my personal diary/blog of art thoughts lol. im no art expert in any way ever

this time: the museum of contemporary art tokyo

splitting this into two bits, the rotating exhibit and the main exhibit. overall really enjoyed the exhibit, tho i don’t think it beats tower of babel it still had enough slightly unsettling stuff for me to enjoy it.

Yasuko Toyoshima

overall: enjoyed this exhibit, i think the pieces i liked most were the ones that were slightly off in an uncanny valley way. a lot of her pieces were clean in presentation, sometimes almost cute about it, but with just enough going wrong with it to ring some alarm bell in my brain

for an example here, she had a full set of pencil cases where the pencils were sharpened from the inside out— so at first blush it was like looking two pencils in the case, but actually looking at it longer you realized that’s not quite it. a lot of the pieces were like that— simple and ordinary until you noticed what was wrong

i think my favorite was a collection of carved wood pieces, carving out one strand of wood at a time until several boards were covered in these tiny, curled shavings. there’s both like, precision to actually getting the shavings to curl but not fall off, and just. the type of emotion you’d put into doing a meaningless, repeated action over and over and over again. destroying something by carving into it again and again. “emotions clawing at something” vibes.

Main Exhibit

The Kanto Earthquake exhibit had a really strong presentation— the rough sketches of devastation, the very detailed extremely large sketches of post war life, ending on a quaint sketch of a cat under an umbrella. i don’t think I’ve seen an art exhibit with such an emphasis on sketches like this, and i really enjoyed the like. absolute focus of representation of real, human life here— i get burnt out by seeing a lot of detailed paintings that don’t really focus on the humanity of a city/location, but the sketch collection really used every line toward that.

Fukuda Naoyo’s embroidered books were incredible to see. maybe im just an embroidery fan, but the contrast of these beige/tan books being cut into with straight clean lines, contrasted with the natural mossy greens of the embroidery. liked it a lot

Mitsushima Takayuki had a piece called tactile adventure that said you could touch it but it felt like a thought experiment that tormented me. i made eye contact with the security guard and just walked away. forbidden fruit

The Tadanori Yokoo exhibit made me feel like i was getting punked. The exhibit signage in English just went over how he used water imagery in his pieces, while the pieces themselves were an almost anxiety-inducing collage of colors, dark humor, and like tits. it was incredibly funny to me, as sad as i was not having an information packet. “yes this man uses water imagery” it’s a collage of post war anxieties in the brightest colors possible. there’s a wave in there. Sure.

A Dark Night’s Flashing: From The Red Darkness was my favorite piece though. it was a singular, seemingly normal scene (BY COMPARISON) almost a lot of surreal collages, but the contrast and split in the colors was really good at drilling in this. unsettling atmosphere.

the museum placed this immediately next to Miyajima Tatsuo’s red digital counter piece which was a fun way to like. keep that energy going lol. anyway really good to see in person and mesmerizing.

and that’s it! overall really solid museum

#personal #sineposting #ill make that my actual. Art museum tag and retag stuff later #when im not in Tokyo lol

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fanby-fckry · 1 year ago

Text

So, tumblr discourse is already like, infamously ridiculous, right? How much worse do you think it’d get on voxblr?

Source: voxblr.vox #unreality cw #meta post #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

( 6 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

24 min. ago

time sensitive question how flirt boy

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

2 min. ago

thanks guys

Source: voxblr.vox #the fucking radio demon parody account replied to my post #with extremely UNHELPFUL advice #and charlie #is your advice unisex? #bcuz if thats how you got vaggie #im judging you both

( 697 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said r u dead?

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

Ha! Bold of you to assume I can be killed :)

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

Show your face and per’’haps,’,’. I’ll come~.to you

🎀 charlies-angel Follow

32 min. ago

This account is fake. Nobody knows where Alastor is, anon. Stop wasting your time.

#this parody account is in really poor taste

( 14,581 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jul 1

if I make it outta this alive, I’m gonna tell my crush I’m in love with him.

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jul 1

fuck

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

1 hr. ago

ya know, I don’t think I’ve confessed to someone and meant it in over a decade?

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

53 min. ago

haha would it be crazy if I said I forgot how?

#its literally part of my job to flirt with people #then i catch feelings and suddenly #i get all tongue-tied #i cant fall back on my old scripts either #he hates bullshit #he wants me #the real me #but the real me doesnt know how to do this!!!

( 268 notes )

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

2 hr. ago

apparently people are canceling @.niffty-lady ? wtf?

🌕 m00nlight-h0wling 🌔 Follow

1 hr. ago

they are and it’s actually the stupidest thing i’ve ever seen

#and the bar was really fucking low #considering the amount of dumb chaotic bullshit my dad gets into ↯ #niffty lady

( 22 notes )

👓 creepz0 Follow

3 hr. ago

It’s time to CANCEL @.niffty-lady

Here’s why:

Niffty LITERALLY KILLED a man in cold blood and now PROFITS off of his death

This so-called “lady” is INCREDIBLY rude to fans, ignoring requests leaving fans on read and answering asks with a NASTY attitude. NOT very lady-like if you ask me

Is associated with the VERY PROBLEMATIC @.real-radio-demon (self explanatory)

Writes TOXIC and PROBLEMATIC ships (spidermoth, radiohusk, reylo 🤢)

Writes NSFW when she herself is CHILD-CODED

PROOF is under the cut ⬇️

. Keep reading

#callout post ↯ #niffty lady #anti niffty lady #niffty critical

( 5,101 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

3 hr. ago

Despite popular belief, I am not dead!

Well, not any deader than I’ve been since 1933! Hahaha!

↯ #is alastor dead? #ha! no ↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts

( 147,381 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said isn’t it disrespectful to write fics about someone you killed irl?

🪡 niffty-lady 📠 Follow

4 hr. ago

I have no respect for Adam. Hope this helps! <3

#answered ask #anon ask

( 136,247 notes )

📺 voxblr4k ☑️ ☑️ ☑️ Follow

5 hr. ago

Is the radio demon dead?

. 96,460 votes • remaining time 6 days, 19 hours

#polls ↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #is alastor dead?

( 19,292 notes )

🪡 niffty-lady 📠 Follow

6 hr. ago

🍑 Forbidden Fruit 🍑

Adam x Reader | 10k words | Rated E

⚠️ Major Character Death

Tags: Smut, Whump, Sinner Reader, Forbidden Love, Bad Ending

After a night of reckless passion, you quickly became Archangel Adam’s favorite sin. Your love, as forbidden as the fruit of Eden, was destined to end in tragedy.

https://archiveofoursouls.hell/works/63595697

#niffty lady fic #adam x reader #angel x sinner #sinner reader #smut #whump #forbidden love #bad ending #rpf #aoos link #aoos fanfic

( 49,933 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

6 hr. ago

Well, it looks like I’ve got some time on my hands!

I’m sure many of you have burning questions you’d like answered

So, ask. me. any’,thing. :)

#ask me anything #ama ↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts

( 16,628 notes )

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x ☑️ ☑️ 🦀 👟 Follow

Dec 12, 2019

i can't have beef with the power of friendship trope because if someone wanted to hang out with me i'd probably reconsider my stance on turning the city into the 10th circle of hell

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x ☑️ ☑️ 🦀 👟 Follow

Dec 12, 2019

besides i can always just redirect my dark urges towards being violently protective of my new friends. there's no rule that says you can't do that.

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

7 hr. ago

I found Sir Pentious’s old voxblr blog, and I think I’m gonna cry

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

7 hr. ago

He made the ultimate sacrifice to protect his friends and the hotel during the extermination. He did exactly what he said he would in this post.

I wish I could thank him for everything he did for us. And I wish I could’ve done a better job of protecting him.

I don’t know where Souls go when they get erased; I don’t know if they go anywhere at all. But I hope that wherever Sir Pentious is now, he’s with people that he considers his friends.

Source: voxblr.vox #rip Sir Pentious #we miss you 😢

( 348 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

8 hr. ago

↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts #the ink spots #we’ll meet again #Voxify

( 4,102 notes )

⬜️ voxblrverse-meta Follow

9 hr. ago

Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 1 month ago

Note

okay, now that i do know what anon is talking about…

i’m already on the record as saying that if oda was gonna go down the cd!shanks route, a celestial dragon identical twin was just about the only in-universe explanation that made sense to me. (fun fact, when the topic came up last, circa chapter 1121, i tagged the post #but we’ll see! #maybe next week maybe six months from now 🙃, and i have to say, i am impressed with myself for nailing that timing.) and i’ve talked my way around the cd!shanks idea a fair bit by now too. broadly:

pros

that was definitely shamrock, not shanks, talking to the five old guys during the reverie. (wonder which pirate he wanted to talk to them about, though. if shanks, why bring him up at that time? if not shanks, who?) a real weight off my back, as far as contradictions in shanks’ characterization go!

given the superficial similarities in their names, shanks was either old enough to talk or had some name-identifying object on his person when roger found him. i can’t imagine “shanks” was his full name, having seen a fair selection of cd names over the years, and it’s fun to imagine what it might have been. shamrock and shanrock?

we’re either getting a goofy “luffy is laughably bad at faces” bit or a “luffy understands the hearts of his nakama spookily well” bit should luffy and shamrock collide during elbaf. either option works for me.

cons

i already complained about this ages ago, but the only emperor without a devil fruit being a cd reeks of the “we have superior blood” narrative the nobility & their government love so much. i’m not a fan.

i also complained about this before, but imo it undermines the coolness of shanks challenging the navy at marineford if the admirals know he’s of noble blood (and he knows they know he’s of noble blood) and thus are forbidden to cause him harm. i guess i can reframe this in my mind as him calling their bluff?? what’s more important to you, killing pirates or protecting nobles? but still… don’t like it. :(

???

who knows?? does shanks? has shanks always known? (if he has and buggy doesn’t, i may cry.) does shanks’ crew know? does his fleet? is this an open secret among pirates of a certain age? is this an open secret among celestial dragons of a certain age?

if cds know, what do they think of shanks? a race traitor? an argument in the case of nature vs nurture? if so, for which side? (he’s so bedraggled—yes, yes, but he’s also the closest thing there is to a pacifist pirate! oh, look at him, protecting all those followers who long to worship his greatness, it’s very noblesse oblige of him—but his manners are so common!) do they want him back, or consider him a lost cause?

how does shanks feel about this? (i got an ask that suggested folks elsewhere online think this is gonna be a rehash of sabo’s backstory, with the contrast between an undesired noble brother (sterry; shamrock) and a low class, chosen brother (ace & luffy; buggy), and while i cannot roll my eyes hard enough at that line of thinking i really have no sense for shanks‘ thoughts atm.) indifference, like luffy’s towards his bio dad? anger, like sabo, at this unwanted connection to horrible people? self-loathing, like ace, at sharing blood with such awful people?

i don’t have any opinions about shamrock himself at this point, except my vague distaste for celestial dragons in general and my stronger distaste for the holy knights and the navy-but-worse role they play in the story. we don’t have any information specific to shamrock for me to have thoughts about just yet.

Please tell me your shamrock thoughts

I’m dying

It’s so dumb

sorry, no idea what you're talking about.

#tos answers #one piece #one piece spoilers #one piece 1137 #figarland shamrock #shanks #—celestial dragon shanks theory #if you were just asking about the name idk what to tell you; cd names have always been kinda dumb

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inbarfink · 2 years ago

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I’ve seen some interpretations of the Rocky Horror Picture Show that compare Frank to the Christian Devil and/or the Serpent of Eden. And… it’s not like that doesn’t make sense. Frank is a tempter who stands against the restraint of the explicitly Christian morality of the mainstream culture our protagonists come from. The Criminologist even calls his temptation of Brad and Janet a “forbidden fruit”. But… I just think that’s not the only angle one can take when looking at Frank. Frank is many things both as an in-universe person and a narrative character. But we are first and foremost introduced to him, before we even get a chance to see him, as a Frankenstein Pastiche.

Is it any wonder that he does such a good job of playing God?

Like any good Postmodern Prometheus, Frank creates new life, but this goes beyond just Rocky. It’s Brad and Janet who are kind of the Adam and Eve in this comparison, and while Frank didn’t literally create them with mad science - he did re-make them in his own image.

(And after first turning them to stone - a form of earth - and then back to flesh)

Also, if we're looking at the Frankenstein's Place as a sort of twisted Garden of Eden - a place where Brad and Janet lose their innocence, gain greater knowledge and understanding of themselves, commit a transgression by giving into temptation, and then get cast down to Earth unsure of what to do with what they have learned - then Frank as the Master of the castle, who first welcome Brad and Janet but eventually then targets them with furious punishment, fits much better playing the role of God than a random snake or even the Devil himself.

Yes, it's a weird-reverse-sort-of-God whose creed is exactly the opposite of the Conservative Christian God in whose church Ralph and Betty got married - but this is already a weird-reverse-sort-of-Eden as well. Adam and Eve started off so 'innocent' in that they felt no shame about their nude bodies, and when they lost said innocence is also when they started feeling the need to cover up. Brad and Janet’s 'innocent' state has them dressed very modestly, and their 'corruption' is marked by them... well, they're never fully naked, but certainly gradually get more confortable walking around in their underwears or lingerie.

And following the narrative thread of this weird-reverse-Garden-of-Eden, the real Forbidden Fruit isn’t actually Frank’s dick, it’s Rocky. The Garden of Eden was this wonderland of earthly delights where Adam and Eve could pertake of any fruit they desired.... except for the Tree of Wisdom. That was the one pleasure they were forbidden from. And the Frankenstein’s Place is similarly a paradise of desires - just less of a fruitbowl and more of the Sex, Drugs and Rock n’ Roll variety - but the one thing you can’t do, the one person you’re not allowed to have sex with... is Rocky.

And I think the interesting question here is ‘why is Rocky the one thing that’s off-limits in Frank’s Fantastic FuckCastle?’. Because, well, if we look at it from an Eden Perspective, here’s what the Serpent had to say about the subject of the Fruit of Knowledge:

Eating the Forbidden Fruit isn’t just about succumbing to mortal pleasures about godly morality or whatever, it’s about becoming kinda like God. And maybe that’s the real reason why Frank’s so upset about the idea that Rocky has slept with someone else. It’s less actual romantic jealousy and more... galling at the idea that someone else can tempt his Significant Other to cheat on him. That’s his thing!

And like, espacially since Janet has that line in “Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch Me”

Which I always read as a kind of admission that she’s like... exploiting Rocky’s desire for an emotional connection for own sexual pleasures. She is maybe falling into this very Frank-Brand of hedonistic manipulativeness. Her newfound knowledge of her sexuality is making her more like ‘God’ in a way, and now this God is pissed about that idea.

And this also does places a ‘Serpent’ figure in our Garden of Eden and that’s Riff-Raff. It’s through his manipulation of events that Janet get offered that Forbidden Himbo in the first place. He probably wasn’t really counting on it directly, more like just causing random chaos in the hopes of distracting Frank long enough to prepre for the coup. But still, without Riff-Raff and Magenta’s tormenting of Rocky, he wouldn’t have fallen in Janet’s lap like this.

And I think, this is taking very directly from the Christian interpetation of the Garden of Eden myth, where the Serpent is retconned as Satan. Riff-Raff is, after all, a resentful servant planning to usurp his master out of jealousy and uses the humans as pawns in his scheme to do that. If Frank is playing God, than Riff-Raff is clearly playing Devil here!

And, like the pitchfork is OBVIOUSLY a reference to the American Gothic motif but... there’s no reason why you couldn’t also connect it to a Satanic motif? Especially as, with Frank being a Reverse-God who preaches for sin and pleasure, Riff-Raff is a Devil of... well, I dunno if he necessarily believes in all of that sexual conservatism stuff - but he’s certainly willing to use it as an excuse for his personal beef with Frank! Either way the point remains, the pitchfork ties together the concepts of traditionalism and sexual shame, as symbolized by American Gothic, with the Devil.

#rocky horror picture show #rocky horror show #rocky horror #janet weiss #riff raff #dr. frank n. furter #frank n furter #dr frank n furter

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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