#The greater fandom can fuck off.

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

we can have tomarrymort stories where harry is not a potter, not the bwl and not abused to make him a martyr for dumbledore’s cause and people lap it up and sing praises for good writing but then if you have a tomarrymort story where harry isn’t obsessed with sports, a girl who used him as a emotional crutch to deal her bfs murder, a girl who dated half the boys he knows to get his attention or desserts then you’re forcing an oc on the tomarrymort fandom and you need to get a grip and be honest or leave.

i don’t like fandom sometimes.

Funny thing, is how Harry is often raised different in those not-a-Potter Harrymort fics and tends to not be interested in Quidditch OR Cho, but no one is attacking those writers for leaving those things out.

What’s so different when a goal-oriented Harry – who only changed because of one or two major events in his early youth – doesn’t care much about a sport(that he was forced into and never told he had the option of saying ‘No’ or quitting in canon) and that makes him ‘too OOC’ but it’s acceptable for a Harry who has anyone else as a biological father and grows up in a different house with different expectations entirely, to not be into Quidditch? To not date Cho Chang or even be interested in her?

Why are things like a sport, a food, and girl he crushed on for a few months, considered the things that make him Harry Potter? Why is it wrong to not make those important to his character in every damn fic? How does taking away being a Seeker, dating Cho, and eating Treacle Tart change who Harry Potter is? What do they really bring to the table?

Why do the things that actually make him Harry Potter, not have to actually appear in a fic for him to still be considered 'In-Character'?

Such as:

Being related to the people who thrice-defied Voldy.

Being prophesied to defeat Voldy.

Being attacked by Voldy because of it and ending up surviving the AK, getting a famous scar, and acquiring a shard of Voldy’s soul in the process.

Being taken away from his legal guardian and shoved onto abusive people that made sure he grew with the mentality that he wasn’t worth shit and that dying for the ‘greater good’ if an old man claims it’s necessary, is okay.

The things that dog his every step and control his future without him knowing it or being able to control it, are the things that shape him as a character.

But nooooooo. If he’s not Ron Weasley-level obsessed with Quidditch(which he never was tbh), salivating over Cho Chang, or mentioning Treacle Tart every chapter, he’s OOC.

Some of y'all just want canon!Harry and that's fine, but stop attacking people just cuz they want to focus on unique parts of Harry to tell the story they've come up with. And dear Christ on a cracker, if he is a totally different person by age 11, based on different experiences, him not playing Quidditch isn't going to make the world end nor make him any less Harry Potter and you're dumb if you say otherwise.

[narwhalandchill]

btw if u equate childe and aventurines backstory in any fucking way please leave this blog and unfollow me <3 preferably block me while ur at it too uwu

[shmowder]

first I'm forced to learn about stocks just to manipulate the market in this stupid rpg maker game (affectionate) and now I'm having stupid thoughts like "huh wonder how bitcoins are minted" and "So it's just GPUs playing lottery?" while brushing my teeth or taking a piss

[defsiarte]

after seeing the replies of a truly horrific AITA. Need to say this again here:

If you unironically use the phrase “fandom police” in any form, get mad at the idea of applying moral analysis to fiction, or anything along those lines I’m blocking your ass.

[raspberryjellybrains]

fun little raz fact I love genderbend but in a deeply dykeish way. I just love women so much and always end up hyperfixated on male characters. however... when people write the woman version as petite and curvy and soft and weak I want to bite something. maintain the fucking character design you cowards. I don't CARE if they have features that are more conventionally attractive on men than women KEEP THAT SAME ENERGY. some of us LIKE that shit and pretending that women can't have masculine features is transphobic, racist, and misogynistic. however... when they DO maintain the character I am kissing the author on the mouth gently and platonically. I'm loeign woman.

[shroomdreams]

Since we’re in monsterfucker territory, maybe could I request gn reader that’s shorter than character of your choice that teases reader a lot about being small

Turns out reader is a shapeshifter who just doesn’t want to waste energy being tall but decides to show them whose boss in the bed >:)

Characters off the bat that I think could work: Aventurine, Sampo, Scar, Kafka, blackswan, Boothill, jing yuan, Kaeya, Lisa, tartaglia, venti,

Sorry that it’s super obvious I’m not as far into the other two fandoms lol

Love To See You Come Undone

Various Sub!Characters x Dom!Shapeshifter!Reader

a/n: oh buddy YOU ARE IN FOR A TREAT! Let's make this a multi-fandom post >:3 btw because the reader is a shapeshifter they'll be treated as gender neutral, but I'll specify if they're topping/bottoming THE SIZE KINK IS REAL IN THIS ONE GUYS

Sampo (Top!Reader)

Sampo, Sampo, Sampo... Even though he follows an Aeon known for their unpredictability, he never expected this side from you. He had fun teasing you for your height, assigning you an array of height-related nicknames whenever you two interacted

He was loosely aware that there's something beneath that visage you wore, but he figured that you'd be easy enough to figure out. What kind of noises can he get you to make? What faces will you show him? Too bad he's imagining the wrong end of the spectrum

When he got you in bed, you had him lay back while you slipped into something more comfortable... His eyes widened as your form grew to tower over him, caging his now smaller body beneath him. "H-heh, guess you can teach this old dog new tricks?" He weakly says as you smirked down at him

Sampo finds himself desperately clinging onto a pillow for dear life while you ravaged his behind, hips clapping against his ass as your cock rubs his walls, his eyes rolling up as he let out breathy moans. Sure, he wasn't a virgin, but he'd never been fucked like this before! Sampo arches his back when you slowed down, thrusting deep and slow

"Mmmggpphhh- Oohhhhhaaaaaa- OoooooohhhfffffffffUUUUCK!"

The fool cums the same time you do, panting as your seed fills his ass. You lean over and inspect his fucked out expression, his eyes crossed and tongue out. You take a moment to snap a picture for your own pleasure later on

After that, Sampo doesn't view you the same anymore. He still jokes around with you, but he whimpers when you remind him who's really in charge

Kafka (Top!Reader)

You're as short as Silver Wolf, maybe even shorter by a few inches. It doesn't matter as Kafka often kidnaps you to dress you up in various frilly outfits. "It's cause you're a lil' dolly, sweetie~" She teases, fixing the bow in your hair.

Really, you tolerated it for so long, but it got on your nerves whenever Kafka condescends to you. So one day, she receives a brown, paper bag with her name written on it. Inside was a lingerie set in her signature purple. When she confronts you about it, you tilt your head with a smile. "It wouldn't fit me, silly."

Intrigued, Kafka drags you to the bedroom so she can prove it. But to her shock, you were correct. In fact, it seems that the lingerie is specifically fitted for her. Kafka clicks her tongue. "Hm. I didn't realize you had it in you, sweetcheeks."

Kafka decides to indulge you for today, sensually caressing her body, the lingerie perfecting hugging her curvy body. However, when she joined you in bed, she noticed the size disparity between the two of you had been flipped... To a greater degree. You seem to sink into the mattress, her body nearly falling into your chest.

In the blink of an eye, Kafka finds herself with her eyes clothes and your tongue shoved in her mouth, moans swallowed by you as you slid your fingers in her panties. She rocks her hips back and forth on your much bigger fingers, tainting your digits with her arousal

Kafka sighs as you bounce her up and down on your cock, playing with her nipples while your cock kisses her cervix. "Mmmph, ahhhh~ Fuck, harder, dolly." Harder? You'll give her harder. You suddenly wrap your arms around her waist and pull her down with you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room as your hips thrust up into her tight cunt with wild abandon. "Oh shit- Ohhhh fuck- Ah! Ah! Ohhhhhh fuuuck!"

You fuck her so hard she squirts, her fluids drenching the sheets as you fuck her through her orgasm. Kafka gasps, twitching as you pull out of her, feeling your cum splatter against her ass.

She still calls you her dolly, but now she knows better than to condescend to you these days

Tartaglia (Bottom!Reader)

Ah yes, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers. You caught his eye when he spotted you training with the bow. He challenged you to a duel, which he won with much difficulty. From then on you became somewhat of an obsession of his.

He thinks you're absolutely adorable when you fight, using your small stature as advantage against taller targets. He likes to joke that the only way you could beat him is in bed. Unfortunately for Childe, his jokes inspired devious things in mind

You've actually had a few sexual encounters with Childe, though he never ventured to the treasure you kept hidden within your undergarments. He figured you must have wanted to wait before doing the deed... So imagine his surprise and excitement when you told him that you want to do it for real.

What he wasn't expecting is your taller stature and your much bigger proportions. His pants suddenly feel much tighter as you pin him to the wall, engaging him in rough kisses. "Hey comrade, how come you- mmh- kept this from me?" He pants, watching you pull down his pants

Childe gasps and groans, leaning his head on the wall as you rode his cock. Your much bigger size meant that his poor legs were constantly being bruised, but he loved it so much. "Aaaaaagh! Hnnng- Coming-" You slammed down on his length, watching him cry out as his cum painted your walls. But it wasn't enough

The Harbinger whimpers, his hands futilely trying to keep your hips up as you bounced on his dick, his thighs sticky from the many orgasms you wrung out from him

The unfortunate side effect is that he's now obsessed with egging you on for another duel with him, this time in your larger form

Scar (Bottom!Reader)

THIS MAN. Hoo boy he's been pestering you non-stop to join the Fractsidus. He claims to have felt the energy RADIATING from you, the potential you have to bloom in the organization is something he salivates over.

He's very touchy, nipping and biting at your ears in an attempt to rile you up. Handsy fellow too, he's very intrigued that a small body like yours attracted him to you. He wants to know just what you are, since he's extremely certain that you're just what the organization needs

Indeed he finds out what you are when you reveal your taller stature to him. In this one, you're actually a human fused with a tacet discord through ambiguous means, but Scar will focus on that later. Right now he finds you stupidly sexy and if he doesn't bone you right then and there he's burning all of Jhinzhou to the ground

His mouth hangs open as he inches his cock deep in your hole, the heavenly warmth you exude makes him act up. Rutting into you like a lil' bunny, he can barely reach your chest, laying his head on your stomach as he growls through his lust. You laugh and pat his head.

"S-See? I knew- mmmmph- I knew you'd be perfect!" Scar says in between pants, his hair sticking to his forehead while sweat dripped down his face. You coo at him, teasing the tacet mark on his neck. He groans, snapping his hips into your warmth and creaming deep inside.

But it didn't stop there. Scar continued to fuck himself into a stupor, your warmth so inviting- Like he bit into a fruit so sweet he wanted to eat more. You laid back and allowed him to rut into your heat. You were supposed to be the one moaning, and yet here Scar was, his mouth slack open as he came again and again

In the end Scar did manage to get you onboard the Fractsidus. You know that one pic of a bunny being obsessed with his giant gf? Thats you two everytime you're seen together.

[mintmatcha]

Kinktober: Monster Fucking

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragon born....

cw: cisfem reader, Monster fucking, OC x reader, fantasy racism (someone is not nice to dragonborn), biting, slight mention of bleeding, fingers in holes

PART ONE OF TWO

a/n: A very special thanks to @tyga-lily, who talked with me about her little dragonborn and made me fall in love with this concept and to @saetyrn9 who came up with his name :)

"The bath is free, Obi."

For how much a night costs, the room is nothing special, but any inn with running water is heaven sent. It’s been almost two months since anyone in your party has slept in a proper bed and your body can feel it. Simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious at this point; sleeping on down is going to feel obscene.

"I'll be quick." Your party mate stands with a grunt, the day heavy on his joints. You almost want to tease him, but after this adventure, your knees are screaming too. It's hard enough for you to throw yourself on to the bed

Despite knowing him for the greater part of a year, you always forget how large the dragonborn is until he’s next to you. Towering over you with delicate horns and ridged crest, Obsidian Vyke -Obi, to his friends- is all black scales and teeth. The air crackles around him the way it crackles around all sorcerers, subtle yet wild, so it’s unfair that he’s also built wide. Thick biceps and a barrel chest: no magic user should be that muscular.

"Take your time." You watch him as he moves around the room, dipping around the singular bed and pulling his sleeping clothes from his travel sack.

"I'm sorry about this," Obi says, peering over his shoulder, "I know I'm not as nice to room with as Kiri."

The two other members in your party had been fast friends-- unfortunately, they were also quick to become lovers. Usually, that did not pose any issues to the group, but tonight, the inn only has two rooms available. It seemed cruel to separate the lovebirds, so you and Obi agreed to cohabitate for the night.

"I don’t mind sharing a bed with you." The idea gives you butterflies, this flitting, nervous energy. You trust the man with your life-- fuck, he’s saved your life in battle -- but something about sleeping next to him makes your skin goosepimple. "As long as you don't snore."

His eyes narrow in a smile. "I'll try my best."

The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair.

It’s not that you don’t want to share a room with him. In fact, you think you want this a little too much. You're absorbed with all of his movements as he primps a bit, adjusting the hem of his shirt so it sits properly, running a palm over his crest, sliding off his traveler's boots. If you're lucky, his shirt will be next and you can catch a peek of the toned spance of his stomach.

"My lady," His teeth flash in the fire light, pearls against the deep, dark opalescent hues of his scales, "You're staring."

"Ah, I'm sorry!" He’s one to talk; you’ve felt his gaze following you for weeks now. That's the only reason you're thinking about him and his body.

And, using that logic, he's the only reason you bought that bodice ripper last week, the one starring a pretty red dragonborn and his human lover--

"Is there something in my teeth?" Obi teases. That earns him a giggle, but, when you don't respond, he exhales through his nose and moves closer. "We're rooming together tonight, so if there's any tension between us, I'd rather-"

"I heard a rumor," you blurt out.

He goes pale. "About me? What did Thyrll tell you?"

"No, about dragonborns in general."

Relief relaxes his features.

"And you just want to know if it's true?" There's a click in his voice as he laughs, something strange and inhumane, "It's okay. You can ask. Let me guess- I eat poor little gnomes? I enchant humans with my-"

"Is it... inside of you?"

The dragonborn pauses at that, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"Your..." You cannot believe you're about to say this, "Cock."

"Oh."

You scramble up, hands over your face as you head towards the door. You aren't sure where you're going to go in a nightgown, but anywhere else has to be better than here.

"Oh, I'm sorry! That was so rude of me."

A wall of muscle suddenly blocks your way. Those dexterous hands that you were admiring moments ago are now touching your shoulders, rubbing up and down affectionately.

"It's alright, my lady, I'm just... surprised." He smells like petrichor, something strangely earthy and yet unnatural clinging to his scales, and laughs like summer rain, "I think it's natural to wonder about different races, I just didn't think..."

His sharp eyes are dilated a bit, the pupils closer to almonds than slits as they bounce up and down your body.

"I've had my own... curiosities about others as well," he admits, "So, who am I to judge?"

Your spine prickles at that. Who exactly was he curious about? One of the elves in your party? The barmaid downstairs? Or is it you that the thinks about at night, cock in fist?

The dragonborn misreads the upset look on your face. "I promise that I am not cross with you. How about I answer your questions and you'll answer mine? No judgments."

You settle a bit. "If you're sure."

He smiles a draconic smile, all teeth and the smallest flick of his tongue.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not embarrassed because my species is a bit different than yours."

You watch him for a long moment. He’s kind. A scoundrel at times, but kind. It's etched into his face, always reflected in his wide, chartreuse eyes.

"So, it is different,” you say carefully.

"It is."

“Very different?”

“When my cock is hard?” He says it so easily. Always proper, it makes you squirm to hear him curse, “No. But when I’m not, it is, in fact inside.”

"It's just... flat down there?"

"Yes- give me your hand."

You weave your fingers in between his without a second thought, but he just shakes his head and pulls away. Then, he takes your still open palm in his and brings it to his torso. The muscle there is just as firmed as you imagined and it's hard not to linger in once spot to appreciate it, Slowly, Obi guides your hand down, running it over the linen of his pants. Underneath, you can feel how it's slightly ridged with larger scales than the rest of his body and, subsequently, larger gaps form in between. It's just skin-- well, it's just scales. You're touching nothing technically intimate, but your heart races anyway, caught in your throat.

"See?" His voice has the edge of a tremble and, when you look up, you realize just how close you two have become. Practically chest to chest, his snout is only inches from your face, close enough that you can see how each individual scale slightly shifts in color as the fire dances. He seems to have realized too; dragonborn expressions are hard to read, but you don't miss how deep his breathing has become.

"It's nothing like touching a human, is it?" he mumbles, hand squeezing yours ever so slightly, “Not intimate at all.”

"Well." You curl your fingers up, clumsily feeling through the fabric, "Maybe a bit.”

The fire crackles in the fireplace. He breathes again, on the brink of a sigh, and you think he’s just as caught up in this as you are.

"Just a bit?" Heat radiates from him. If he were human, it'd be alarming, but instead there's a comfort to it. You're still warm from the bath, and yet you chase that heat, slipping your hand from his just to bring it under the waistline of his pants.

"More than a bit."

He's hot underneath it all, almost uncomfortable to the touch as you explore the space blindly. His eyes haven't left yours, his lids getting heavy with every prod and poke of your fingers.

A vertical line of soft, exposed skin catches your ring finger and his body jumps reflexively as you accidentally dip inside of him. It’s strangely dry, yet much softer than the rest of his scaled body. Despite yourself, you explore it a bit more, pressing in the same way you’ll be playing with your own pussy tonight.

"A-ahh--" The dragonborn sucks in a deep breath and you can feel his abdomen crunch under your touch, "Be careful."

"Did I hurt you?" you ask as you pull away.

His chittering laugh returns. His hands rest on the small of your back, not pushing, but not entirely platonic either. When he talks, the air tastes like distant embers, just far enough away, yet not close enough, "You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry."

“Are you sure?” you press, “You made a weird noise.”

“Very sure,” He dips low enough to press his lips against the shell of your ear, "You’d do the same if I put my fingers inside of you."

This time, the heat is coming from inside you, twisting and pulling with want.

"With your claws?" You manage to joke through your suddenly dry throat, "I might cry."

"I could cut them," His voice is rolling and low as his hands explore, one traveling up your spine and the other dipping the smooth over your ass. When they both reach their zeniths, they switch directions. The silk of your dress catches against his skin, pulling it up and revealing the fat of your ass to the air. "Nice and short."

His nails dig gently into your skin, nothing more than a nip, a test.

"You’re so soft, all over. Your body just gives when I touch it,” There’s a distant tone to his voice as he speaks into the curve of your neck, “Too delicate for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in disagreement and his teeth prove you otherwise. It’s barely a graze, but the nip against your pulse point drags a whimper from deep within you. Your companion chuckles, then coos with pity as he does it again, much, much kinder this time.

“Oh, you’re knock kneed and sweet for me,” The already blossoming bruises are soothed by a warm, textured flash of wet. His tongue is rougher than a humans, longer too, and it leaves behind a string of spit that is more viscous than any human’s. “Like a fawn. My sweet fawn.”

The hand that once explored him is trapped in between your bodies, unable to move, but you can feel something against your stomach: something hard, something thick. Too much cock for your human body, but, fuck, you’re going to try.

“Bet you’re even softer down here.” A singular clawed drags over your bare ass, searching for underwear that isn't there and your body trembles with want, “Oh, look at that, shaking like a leaf. I bet you’d melt if I-”

A sharp knock at the door scrambles you two apart. A moment passes and the sound almost feels imaginary, but then it happens again. You smooth your still wet hair and try to gather yourself, heading to the door in a hurry. Somehow, the dragonborn is more flustered than you. His scales are physically ruffled and his usually stoney brow is creased. He can’t blush, but you swear you can see his face alight as you swing the door open.

There stands a familiar elvish figure, with dark straight hair and the prettiest of smiles.

“Kiri!” you exclaim. She’s a natural beauty, like most elves. All legs and sharp angles, she’s a good head taller than you, leaning over with almost a condescending grin. She’s so beautiful that you almost hate her for it.

“I am sorry to be a bother, rogue.” She speaks in Elvish and the dragonborn’s head tilts slightly side to side, like a dog who hears his name, as he tries to listen. “I came to thank you and the sorcerer.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Your Elvish is unnatural on your human tongue, “We are fine here.”

“My lover thanks you too,” she winks and giggles. She’s over a hundred years older than you, and yet still head over heels like a schoolgirl. Elves might live for thousands of years, but they take hundreds to mature. “We will not be sleeping much tonight.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to gag, biting back a smile, but then Kiri grows serious.

“If he scares you, please let me know,” she continues.

“Obi?” you say, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he is, but those teeth! Like needles. Braver than me, sleeping next to a monster like that.”

You glance at your dragonborn and he looks away before you can meet his eye. A disappointment settles in your stomach. Monster is such an ugly word for a pretty man. Everything about him is charming and refined, from the way he speaks and the way he walks, to the way he shines his scales when he thinks no one is looking.

“That’s rude.” You’re quick to reply. Kiri grew up around only her own kind and their ideas-- she doesn’t always know what’s uncouth or offensive because of it, “Don’t say such awful things.”

“It seems like he’s already gotten hungry.” She jerks a chin to your shoulder. You reflexively reach to cover it, only to pull away when the spot feels wet. Blood speckles your fingers- not enough to warranty any worry, of course, just the slightest graze of the skin.

“That’s not--”

“I tease, I tease!” she continues, “I know it is just a scrape. Can you imagine? To lay with someone who is all claws, fire and untamed magics! I-”

The man in question stalks in between you two silently. With a towel in his arms and a chip on his shoulder, he stomps by with a snort of his nostrils.

“I’m going to bathe.” His Elvish is worse than yours, but it's enough to make Kiri’s face drop. The worst part is that he doesn’t sound angry-- you could deal with anger. Instead, he sounds heartbroken. “I don’t mean to be frightening.”

You both walk him stalk down the hall until he disappears around a corner. Kiri swivels to look at you, bewildered. “Since when does he speak Elvish?”

PART TWO

[baby-splash]

Nobody talks about how fucking cool Edgar and Eric Jomfru are and it's actually so sad.

These guys attended EVERY Dethklok show, with ZERO injuries, meaning they traveled the entire world. Not only that, they turned it into a business- They sold merch on their website, which had hundreds of thousands of daily views. That's fandom clout you can never even dream of.

They had the balls to stand there and threaten Dethklok for money. After Eric is shot, Edgar still has enough drive to somehow evade several snipers and be captured alive, plot his escape, swim out with a kid on his back, and become an international terrorist capable of literal mind control. He lived with a guy who spent his entire life in near-perfect solitude and they seemed to get along pretty well. Imagine their little domestic day to day life, between the revengence.

He escaped a horde of angry burn victims, once again alive, infiltrated Mordhaus (and lived AGAIN) to take the brute force route of shooting Dethklok with a gun (Magnus could never) and was still able to put his hatred aside when he realized this isn't what Eric wanted.

Despite everything Dethklok put Edgar Jomfru through he was able to put aside his hatred (and he still says they make him sick to his stomach, in DSR) and admit they meant something to him- to his brother, to a lot of people- and were part of a greater whole that he didn't have a right to destroy. Something he was ultimately willing to put personal grudges aside and die for.

He and his brother dropped out of HARVARD to follow a metal band on the road and by all we're shown, their only regret was being hit by a drunk driver. They still made what looks to be a pretty comfortable, possibly even rich (concert tickets ain't cheap for Dethklok) lifestyle for themselves.

Edgar is never once truly inhibited by his disability and never allows it to define him, and it ISNT the source of his rage, or the start of his character arc. Do you know how rare that is?

They start off as typical toxic fans who have made their livelihood by feeling entitled to someone else's work, only to end up with a deeper respect for them as people and for their output as real art with meaning to the world. They could've been NASA scientists or some other kind of mad genius, but instead, they followed their passion for metal and that's honestly badass? Also they're from Ohio so you know they're self starters because there's fuck all to do there.

They never lose their virginity because they never lose, period.

[anonymous-dentist]

Hi, I’m A.D., I’m a historian, and let’s talk about the nuclear bomb and why the one that exploded at the end of QSMP’s Purgatory Event probably didn’t kill all that many people upon initially exploding.

The nuclear bomb, as everybody knows, has only ever been used in a war twice. Both explosions were caused by the United States in their war against Japan at the tail end of World War Two in one final terrible last ditch attempt at ending the war through any means necessary.

Pictured above are the atomic explosions at Hiroshima (left) and Nagasaki (right.)

These are big huge clouds, which makes sense! Nuclear weapons, on average, have the strength of somewhere between 10 and 50 megatons of TNT. Hydrogen bombs, meanwhile, are WAY worse, with the first test coming in at a whopping 10 MILLION tons of TNT.

To put it in Minecraft terms for all you nerds out there, imagine Doomsday from the Dream SMP and how it razed an entire nation to bedrock level by using somewhere in the range of 20 stacks of TnT (if I’m remembering correctly.) A nuclear bomb, in these terms, would have blown L’Manberg up something like eight times over and then some.

So that’s. Bad. Right?

Well, here’s the QSMP’s bomb as was constructed by our favorite depressed detective, q!Maximus:

This bomb, notably, is underground. It was never dug up, it was just moved somewhere else. It isn’t above ground, and it never left this room. Watch the cutscene back (linked here), the bomb never left the room.

So this is where underground nuclear testing comes in.

Underground testing began in 1951, and it remains the only form of scientific nuclear testing not banned by the Limited Test Ban Treaty of 1963.

No big surprise, a lot of early underground tests were conducted by the US out in Nevada, where they kinda tested nukes legit fucking EVERYWHERE in the desert for a long time. Below are some photos, just for funsies:

What’s important about underground nuclear explosions is that they actually end up releasing less radiation into the atmosphere than regular nukes do. What happens beyond that depends on whether or not the radiation remains contained.

A contained explosion’s aftermath:

And an uncontained explosion’s aftermath:

There hasn’t really been many negative biological effects reported from these underground tests, which is really saying something considering how close to nuclear blasts the US had its guys at most of the time (see below)

The worst you got out of the underground tests was some radioactivity in cows’ milk, which is NOTHING compared to the effects of the above-ground nuclear testing at the Nevada Site:

So… what does this mean for the QSMP?

Well, if we’re going off of historical and scientific precedent, legitimately nothing substantial happened to the islands of Purgatory. There’s more of a risk of dying from the pre-established radioactive rain disaster effects as well as the earthquake and meteor disasters.

Fun fact! Underground nuclear explosions usually registered as weaker than actual fault line activity, aka actual earthquakes.

If Maxo’s nuke was dropped from above, the devastation would be greater. Nuclear fallout is no joke; even today, cancer rates in the American West are still pretty high from the above-ground testing conducted at the Nevada Site. The Bikini Atoll will never be the same after all the testing the US did there, either.

But, because this nuke seemed to have gone off underground, I can safely assume that the damage done to the islands above was minimal at worst. Maybe there’s a radioactivity leak, but everybody staying on the islands had already experienced radiation up to that point.

It’s important to remember this because several characters did stay behind on the islands, and the fandom is assuming them dead because, well. A nuke went off. But those characters aren’t dead yet (outside of q!Maxo, who was possibly directly above the nuke when it went off and thus would’ve been hit full-force by the explosion.) Many were on the beach, far from the the nuke. They’re fine, and you can prove it with history!

TLDR; the nuke from the end of Purgatory was assumedly set off underground, which would have negated a lot of its potential damage, so everybody’s fine except for the unfortunately deceased q!Maxo

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Bad Latin

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Word Count: 3285

Summary: The night the guards raid the tavern in search of Archer and his Ethian pack, Jane accepts the rude man's offer (and Susannah's advice), fleeing out the side door. If they're caught, they'll have to be convincing. Good thing Jane's lust is no act.

They stare at one another through the treads of the staircase, Jane and Susannah. The man—the rude, attractive man secreted in here with her—tugs Jane back by her upper arm and Susannah lurches forward. Jane recalls a turned ankle, a day years ago when Susannah came to her sheepishly, limping after she’d put her foot wrong dismounting from a horse. It’s the same motion.

And then Susannah is leaning on the steps, candlelit face growing shadowy as she peers into Jane’s darkened alcove. Jane wrenches free of the man’s uncertain grip; who is he to hold her back? She thrusts her hands between the treads to grip Susannah’s fiercely.

“Come with me,” she blurts. Seeing Susannah now, alive and apparently unhurt, is almost as startling as watching her transfigure into a hawk and take flight. Jane’s concern for her friend’s life is far greater than the confusing sense of betrayal she experienced the moment she learned Susannah is Ethian, so she repeats her plea, “Come. Please, Susannah.”

Susannah’s expression of surprise at the sight of Jane deadens and she shakes her head.

The guards continue their rampage, smacking tankards off tables and smiles off the faces of the tavern’s unprepared patrons. The man at Jane’s back clearly decides the guards are coming a little too near, because he places an urgent hand on her waist and attempts to draw her deeper into the shadows. Jane shoves him off without looking in his direction. Her eyes are fixed on Susannah’s face, and she sees her glance between the two of them. Her expression briefly re-enlivens with the ghost of former times. There’s a faint smirk.

“Go on,” she says. “For me.”

Jane sighs impatiently. She is not going to abandon Susannah in order to mess around with that man. The thought of such a thing—of feelings that might make a woman like Esther find it impossible to keep to her own bed even with an inflamed vagina—may have been on Jane’s mind before, but guards and Ethians and the accompanying uproar make that all a bit complicated.

But there’s something more in Susannah’s eyes than a dare for Jane to go off and fuck a stranger. She means survive, Jane realizes. She means be smart and adaptable. While these aren’t exactly weaknesses for Jane, it’s true that her attempts at spontaneity usually fail. Her and Susannah’s short-lived escape proved that. Projects like her book of medicines testify to the opposite: with time, effort, and careful study, Jane is capable of incredible discoveries and achievements. Then again, it took so very little time for the whole thing to burn to ashes. Maybe meticulousness isn’t her strong suit either.

As Jane’s thoughts flow frantically, Susannah untangles their fingers.

“Get out of here,” she says. And, probably because Jane’s eyes continue to beg, she adds, “I’ll be fine,” before shoving away from the steps. She’s just glanced away from Jane when a guard claps his hand on her shoulder, spinning Susannah towards him for questioning.

Jane staggers back with a gasp caught somewhere in her throat. This time, when the man catches hold of her, taking up the hand Susannah so lately released, Jane doesn’t push him away. She matches his grip. When he throws the door open, she flees with him into the night.

There are more guards out here, guards carrying torches they swish around corners, scanning every likely hiding place.

“Can you run?” the man asks her, which is so insulting a question that Jane can only answer it with a look of disdain.

Wordlessly, they wait for the same thing, and when it comes—an opening where the path between their position and the woods clears—they sprint together across the hardpacked dirt, stumbling into the trees.

They crash through the undergrowth, but the ground is uneven and, away from the tavern, the light quickly fades. Their passage is clumsy enough to ensure they’ll be easily tracked, should they be pursued. And how far can they get, really? In darkness, with nothing, not even each other’s name?

The man seems to be coming to the same conclusion; he turns to Jane wearing a look of determination.

“We should hide in plain sight,” he suggests. More than suggests—he speaks the words like an edict (tosser). Lucky for him, Jane has already weighed the options and is ready to agree.

He keeps staring at her, dark eyes annoyingly compelling and distracting. As if there weren’t enough on her mind.

“Do you understand?” he checks.

Solemnly, she nods. She blinks to focus her thoughts. She remembers Susannah taking to the sky when escape over land became unviable.

“We have to climb a tree,” she says. Thick, sturdy branches. Concealing foliage. The perfect hiding place.

The man’s expression distorts as he openly scoffs at her.

“No,” he says. “It means kissing.”

“Kissing?”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“And then some, if we’re to be convincing as two people who wandered away from the tavern before all the excitement and became too caught up in one another to hear the commotion.”

The way he glances at her mouth makes it clear he will not find this a difficult role to play. With this look, and the dark, and the relative isolation, Jane is thinking, Why not? What harm? It seems as good a plan as any for waiting out the guards’ terrorization of the tavern, when she’ll be able to ditch this man and go looking for any trace of Susannah, any hint that tells Jane she is safe, or where Jane might find her. When she does, they’ll greet each other properly, then smile conspiratorially over the memory of that man in that tavern, and Jane will divulge her tale of sexual exploration and empowerment—

Until the man absolutely ruins it, snapping her out of her reunion fantasy with the words, “Wonderful. Get on your knees.”

“I beg your pardon,” Jane grits out. Her fists clench, and either because of that or the fire in her eyes, the man pauses in the middle of unbuckling his belt.

She feels just as affronted as she knows she must look—at his easy assumption, at the memory of the shape of the stable boy’s head beneath Susannah’s skirts back home.

Gallingly, the man seems to be able to read her mind. He spreads his hands defensively, even stomps his heel in what could be the reflexive way he summons attention (she is reminded of his lithe mounting of a tavern table). Or it’s simply petulance.

“I can’t very well get on mine,” he argues. “A woman caught receiving the sort of pleasure I could give would be highly suspicious. An unsuspicious woman gets on her knees.”

With a flick of his wrists, he points at the ground with both hands.

Before Jane can dispute his self-serving statements (which she would have to do blushing, helplessly curious), there is the crackle of sticks being trodden upon, underbrush brushed aside by the thudding passage of a person in heavy boots. A person who moves without hesitation, as though searching the forest around the tavern for fleeing Ethians. A guard.

Jane meets the man’s eyes with alarm. It’s clear he shares it. For perhaps the first time in her life, she takes a conscious step backward. Actually, a literal step backward, until her back is pressed against a wide trunk. The man steps forward, bows his face to hers. She expects him to move quickly, claim her mouth with rough, thoughtless passion. His unhurried intention surprises her.

In the chilling air, Jane feels their warm, mingled breath on her face. It’s as if there are bubbles in her blood, fizzing, making her light. Again, his eyes are on her mouth. She feels her own lids lower as her cheeks flush with desire. Their lips just meet in a first, teasing graze when the guard stomps into their hiding place.

Jane’s companion leans away from her with genuine reluctance, shifting his gaze to the intruder.

The scowling guard swiftly takes them in and gets right to it: “What’re you two doing?”

“What does it look like?” the man replies, his tone so lacking in sarcasm that the question comes across even more condescending. So, Jane thinks, he’s rude to everyone. She hopes it won’t cost them their lives, regretting that she threw her lot in with his by following him through the door.

“You know an Archer?” the guard demands, ignoring the response.

“Afraid I’m more familiar with knives.”

“You meet anyone unusual at the tavern tonight?”

“We weren’t even in the tavern.”

The guard narrows his eyes. This response disturbs his stream of questions. Hands down at her sides, Jane clutches nervously at tree bark.

“Really,” the guard says, the word hard and accusing, “because we’ve been interrogating people who say there was a poet who disappeared in the confusion.”

“Ah! He was drunk.” The man nods in apparent comprehension.

“Not his confusion, our confusion.”

“If you’re that confused, maybe you shouldn’t be interrogating people.”

Before this piece of wit can infuriate the guard, Jane interrupts.

“The general confusion,” she interprets. Her hands now itch to throttle the man, so she grips harder at the gritty bark. “We quite understand.”

But she is entirely ignored. Story of her fucking life.

“The poet was speaking Latin.” The guard squints distrustfully at the man. “Do you speak Latin?”

“Believe me,” Jane says brightly, “he cannot speak Latin.”

She covers the man’s mouth when he seems poised to try. There’s a mumble as he protests from behind her hand.

“What was that?” the guard asks sharply.

Jane beams. “I didn’t say anything.”

The man—bane of her existence that he has rapidly become—licks her palm and she instinctively lets go of his face.

“I said,” he says, “I’m better with tongues.” He has the nerve to shoot Jane a sultry, significant look. Her body has the nerve to respond to it. She feels the blooming heat, the racing heart. Almost instantly, the air between them is clouded by lust.

The guard breaks the spell with the blunt repetition of “Tongues?”

The man redirects his attention with obvious frustration.

“Speaking in tongues,” he clarifies. “Rather than Latin.”

“Though he rarely does as he’s enough of an idiot in English,” Jane jumps in helpfully.

The guard studies them with unguarded hostility.

“Anyone who’s being uncooperative will be dunked.”

The man swings his head to face Jane again.

“Fancy getting wet?”

Before she can quit trying to manage his unpredictable responses and take her turn at pure, unadulterated, incautious rudeness that could very well end with her drowning, the guard seems to decide he’s wasted enough time on the two of them.

“Never mind,” he says. “She’s no Ethian.” A jerk of his chin indicates Jane. “Such a state of agitation as she’s in now surely would’ve triggered the transformation.”

Jane scoffs at his total contempt for her, but he turns and walks off, back towards the tavern.

“You don’t suspect me of being Ethian?” the object of her combined lust and aggravation calls after him.

Too late, Jane elbows him hard to be quiet, but of course the guard turns.

“No,” he says.

“Might I ask why?”

“Some people’s evil. Some’s just irritating.”

With that succinct sentiment, the guard takes permanent leave of them.

“You’re a fool,” Jane says when they’re alone. Her voice is almost awed at his baffling recklessness. She slumps back against the tree with her arms crossed. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“You know an Ethian,” he counters, and his point is clear.

“You didn’t turn me in.”

“I still could.” A blatant lie, accompanied by a teasing look that holds no malice. She hates that she smiles. Hates how it encourages him—for he edges back towards her and tilts his chin invitingly. “Buy my silence?”

“How dare you.” Jane aims for severe and gets breathy. “I will not be blackmailed.”

In the time it takes her to blink once, she decides that, between the way he successfully (however foolhardy were his methods) got rid of the guard and the way he looks wrapped in shadows, the man is too alluring to merit her further resistance. Her smile widens as she declares, “I’m doing this for fun.”

His approach may be unexpectedly deliberate, but Jane left finesse back home with her finely chopped and gently ground herbs; in every sense, she throws herself at him, sealing their lips.

Following the force of their collision, the man winds his arms around her waist and returns her ardour. Then this is kissing, she thinks. Nice. The act addresses two urges at once: her lust and her need for him to shut up. It’s actually so nice that the sanctimoniousness of preserving her virginity up to this point falls away with near-physical relief. Why not? she thinks, over and over and over, changing the angle of her head, feeling the tongue that licked her palm steal enticingly behind her lower lip. The heat of his hands on her is a defence against the cooling night, their pressure a promise of the study he would like to make of her. What a change to experience something new that she doesn’t want to run from.

Jane grasps the back of his neck. When she kneads her strong fingers into his skin, he groans. A tingle races up her back because the look on his face when he draws slightly away from her says the noise surprised them both. It’s tempting, as he closes the distance again, nose delicately nudging hers, to take hold of that belt of his and bring his hips forward. Her skirts will flatten to make room. But she knows—from the experience of seeing if not doing—once a man’s member is involved, a woman’s pleasure is too often forgotten. If he’s going to respond like that to her fingers on his neck, stimulation of more private areas could cause the total collapse of his senses. And unless he has enough presence of mind to attend to her satisfaction, she’s not interested in getting senselessly fucked against a tree.

So, before their lips can meet, she gives his chest a shove, propelling him backward. Sweeping her hair aside, Jane crouches. She’s unlacing her boots when she thinks to glance up and check his reaction (she, perhaps, does not have all her wits about her either). He’s looking down at her, grinning expectantly.

“Oh, I’m not staying down here,” she explains. “Just don’t want to get dirt on your back.”

He doesn’t seem unhappy to have his expectations overturned, waiting while Jane lobs her boots aside. When she stands, he sinks, and she understands the look he gave her because it is quite something to see the knife-hurling, guard-abusing, tavern bard on his knees at her stocking feet. Lightly, he touches her ankle. Jane swallows and raises her foot to his shoulder, lightheaded when she presses down a little and he tenses to take the pressure, eyes locked on hers. His hand strokes up her calf, guiding her leg forward, and by the time he’s gripping the underside of her thigh, her foot indeed rests against his back.

With a wink and no further ado, he ducks under her skirts. Jane’s heart pounds, gallops, over the mystery of where his next touch might fall. It comes as his lips trailing up her thigh—light, over her stocking, but impossibly arousing with the barrier of her skirts between them, watched from above by naked stars.

Will it be worth not trying to stick with Susannah? Worth slinking away in the night rather than attempting to stand up for the people too drunk or belligerent to run from the guards? Stop it, Jane tells herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Survive so you can treat sickness and disease in the future. Survive so you can help people then.

The man’s mouth inches up to the crook of her hip, and then to another place no man has ever touched, certainly not with his lips. The tongue that licked her palm and teased inside her mouth delves into the cleft of her and Jane releases a shuddering cry. He bragged about the pleasure he could give her like this, did he not? What a tremendously arrogant thing to boast—and how tremendously elated she is to discover it wasn’t unfounded.

Gripping her thigh, he pulls her close and thrusts his face between her legs, his head completing a slow nod with every pass he gives her with his tongue. A mix of his saliva and her slick release soon seems to coat everything, everything that matters, everything he traces again and again while Jane trembles on one foot, her other leg clamped around him. She can hear the sounds he’s making, the muffled sounds of his own pleasure. She has a manic craving to clutch his hair (those lush, dark curls), but fears it would be too intimate. Instead, she grabs the back of his head through her skirts—for balance, for leverage, inexactly positioning him to rock herself across his tongue.

Apparently unwilling to submit entirely to her control, he makes her feel the edge of his teeth. Which only makes her emit a ragged moan. She doesn’t hear words, but his lips move and reshape themselves against her, and she wonders if she’s being spoken against, spoken into. She wonders—absently, as even these strange caresses of his mouth heighten her pleasure—if it’s Latin.

The back of Jane’s head is thrashing back and forth against the tree, her hair snagging on the bark, when the man takes her nude hips firmly in his grasp and laps at her mercilessly. His tongue burrows inside her, undulating there, before withdrawing so he can close his lips around the nub with which she has played on nights she had herself convinced a man would be of no use to her. Well. It appears that, like the winter a fleeting but highly contagious illness descended upon Bradgate House, she is not immune.

Jane’s back arches, her head scraping against the tree, as she cries out to the heavens. The blissful sensations begin where his mouth touches and streak through her like the shooting stars her dazed vision may only be imagining. It’s possible that she shivers into starlight herself. Her hips hitch and hitch against his face as her hands cradle the swathed base of his skull. This happens involuntarily and she doesn’t try to stop it.

When stars quit falling and the feeling ebbs and her hips finally slow, she’s gasping, feeling loose and tired like she’s been swimming or knocked over the head. With his help, her leg slides limply from the man’s shoulder. He emerges from beneath her skirts lingeringly wiping his mouth. He looks proud of himself. In Jane’s estimation, he should be.

Though the light cast by the tavern is very dim, it’s enough that the swelling in his breeches does not go unobserved once he stands before her. She stares at him for a minute in contemplation, but no, not her problem.

“Thanks,” Jane says simply, stepping back into her boots.

The man exhales a noise of disbelief.

“Thanks?” he echoes, hands on his hips.

Not wanting to give him false hope, she lifts her feet one at a time to tie her laces rather than crouching again. It nearly unbalances her to shrug while her fingers work, but she manages before planting her boots on the forest floor once more.

“Veni, vidi, vici,” she says. She cocks her head flirtatiously and adds, “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

[itsclydebitches]

Hazbin Hotel: Let's Talk About Cursing!

Trigger warning for lots of cursing in this post (obviously) and discussion of canon abuse scenes

As I delve further into the Hazbin Hotel fandom, I’ve inevitably come across a variety of people who dislike the show for an equal variety of reasons. One criticism I’ve seen with some consistency is in regards to the cursing and yeah, I get it. That’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. However, the repeated claim that the cursing is only there as a—failed—attempt at bad, lazy humor got me thinking about why I personally liked the cursing, and why I think it serves a greater purpose in the show.

Now yes, some of the cursing does function as an arguably simplistic joke. The most common setup I’ve noticed is one that leans into a contrast in tone/personalities. We see this a lot with the polite, comparatively timid Charlie as she navigates her distinctly vulgar domain.

Charlie: “Hi, mister!” Demon: “Go fuck yourself!”

The entirety of “Happy Day in Hell” plays with this contrast, setting up Charlie’s slightly skewed, but significantly optimistic perspective of Hell. We are shown again and again how her lyrics are contradicted or twisted into something less innocent through the visuals: a “revealing” street where it’s “hard not to stare” has BDSM going on in a nearby window, Charlie will “open the door” for her people and then literally does so... for a guy who’s already dead. (Or, you know, temporarily out of commission until he heals, or whatever demons do when they’re ‘killed’ by things other than angelic steel.) The entire point here is to contrast the happy, skipping girl claiming that there’s a “warm, fuzzy feeling” in the air with the actual environment of unchecked fires and decaying limbs. And yes, that can be amusing. Not necessarily for everyone as humor is highly subjective and dependent on context, but distilling this contrast down to the shock of a polite greeting getting a “Go fuck yourself!” in response is a kind of entertainment. Especially when Charlie’s reaction adds another layer: for me that’s a very funny—and currently relatable—expression.

We can potentially make the case that this humor format overstays its welcome, but I personally think the show does a good job of keeping Charlie’s cursing both simple and comparatively rare, so that when she is put into these contrast situations the humor lands better. The best example I can think of in the latter half of the show is Susan. There we get the whiplash of polite, trying-to-get-these-people-to-like-her Charlie reaching a breaking point to become “FUCK YOU, YOU OLD BITCH” Charlie. It’s a moment that builds off of the earlier surprise of the courteous Alastor calling someone an “Ornery old bitch”—while Rosie is trying (and failing) to find a nicer way to phrase this.

However, as stated above I think the cursing serves more of a purpose than to just be funny for (some) viewers. Beyond those who simply find cursing distasteful, I’ve seen a fair bit of, “This is so stupid. No one even talks like that!” going around.

Except... I do? I talk like that.

See, I like cursing. I was born to former hippie parents and grew up playing MMOs, so cursing was something I became pretty acclimated to. Personally, I’m glad I was because I’m fascinated by language and cursing—for better or worse—is an integral way that many people communicate. I was taught to see cursing not as the Bad Forbidden Thing You Must Never Ever Do, but rather as just another form of expression, something to be used in moderation and under specific circumstances. Once I became an adult I already understood how I wanted to curse and when it was appropriate to do so. People at work are often shocked when I tell them I curse a lot because no, of course I’m not doing that at my job. That isn't considered professional in this space. Among my friends though?

We can sound a lot like the Hazbin crew.

Undoubtedly the most common curse in the show is “fuck” and its variations, which very much tracks with my personal experience among other people who curse. In fact, it’s so ubiquitous that it barely counts as a curse at all in some groups. It’s more of an easy, accepted way to add emphasis. Vaggie’s “What the fuck was that?” about Alastor’s commercial is a perfect example. She’s pissed and simply saying “What was that?” doesn’t carry the same weight, no matter how angry she may sound when she says it. Vox’s long “Fuuuuuuuck” at the end of “Stayed Gone” conveys an emotion you just can’t capture any other way. No dialogue at all would create a fundamentally different experience of Vox’s feelings and another non-cursing response is just gonna hit different. Not necessarily bad, just different.

“I don’t want to go to the party!” “I don’t want to go to the freaking party!” “I don’t want to go to the fucking party!”

The above represents three distinct characters to me and I think Hazbin Hotel gets that. Cursing isn’t thrown around randomly because something something cursing supposedly sells; it’s all linguistically logical. Characters curse when something surprising or bad happens, or when something unexpectedly good happens, when they’re angry, trying to be sexy, or they want to add that emphasis. That’s a lot of different situations where cursing can be useful and when you use “fuck” in your daily life a lot you become pretty desensitized to it. As said, for many it’s barely a curse at all. Which means that when you really want to curse you’ve got to up the ante. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that the two uses of “cunt” I can recall—a word that is generally considered far worse than “fuck” and makes a lot of people understandably uncomfortable—is used by two of the worst characters in moments that are meant to horrify the viewer:

Adam: “Can’t wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts / I know it’s just been a week, but we’ll be back in six months!” Valentino: “When I say you’d better get that fucking cunt out of my studio, you say...?”

This horror is especially emphasized in Valentino’s scene. The creators know this word is coming up and deliberately build towards it. Angel is currently being abused and has been reminded that Valentino “owns” him. The above question is a part of a trio that Valentino asks (a standard structure in writing), wherein the third option is the outlier/most shocking of the three. The animation leans into that shock, with the music building and Valentino grabbing Angel to pull him close right on the word “cunt.” Perez even puts emphasis there because he knows that this is a significant word that will change our understanding of Valentino.

Despite having hit Angel multiple times and taunting him with the contract, this is the moment Valentino stops playing the ‘nice’ employer. This is the real him. No more fake compliments and endearments aimed at Charlie, no more fake comfort/intimacy aimed at Angel. That “cunt” conveys a hell of a lot about how Valentino really sees them and when you have a cast of characters who are already cursing on the regular, it takes a word on that level to do that kind of work. If Valentino had said, “get that fucking bitch out of my studio” it wouldn’t have had nearly the same impact because he’s the kind of guy who uses "bitch" even when playing ‘nice.’

Adam’s line from “Hell is Forever” does very similar work. The scene needs a word to align with the horrific reveal that another extermination is just six months away, that conveys Adam’s deep disgust for Charlie’s people, and that still catches the viewer’s attention even though he’s the character (I believe) who curses the most. Here the music drops and Adam is a little closer to speaking than singing; there's this shift because, like with Valentino, our perception of him is shifting. This isn’t just some egotistical idiot who wants to be called “Dick Master,” he’s the leader of an army coming to gleefully kill them. Framing a whole world of people—people Charlie loves—as “cunts” while treating their murder as a holiday that can’t come soon enough creates an, 'Oh shit. This guy is actually a threat' understanding that you can’t quite get with anything else.

On a smaller scale, cursing does other character work throughout the whole show. I watched a number of cursing compilation vids for this meta (that was a trip lol) and again, cursing is not thrown in randomly. Each character has a unique way of cursing that aligns with their personality and motivations:

As said, Adam curses the most in the show which helps sell his truly over-the-top, irreverent personality. Linguistically, the amount he curses also allows for some fun grammatical play. Lines like, “Fucking love putting my name on shit, shit’s the best!” help convey the versatility of cursing.

Also as said, Charlie curses a fair bit but she’s comparatively polite and her cursing tends to be a result of genuinely big emotions—like saying “Crap” when she’s shocked and falls, or “Shit!” when Adam locks her out of the room—rather than sprinkled into her conversations as a modifier. That leaves space to create those moments of amused surprise when Charlie really let’s loose.

Sr Pentious curses even less than Charlie which fits his secretly gooey center. He talks a big game at the start of the show, but he’s actually quite bad at being, well, bad (especially the Amazon version compared to pilot!Pentious). His idea of getting one over on Alastor is ripping a bit of his coat. He loves his Egg Bois and “doesn’t want to live” without them. He has no desire to go into battle without minions/a big machine to hide behind and, of course, he’s the first to be redeemed. He's too much of a secret sweetheart to curse a lot.

Interestingly, Niffty doesn’t seem to curse at all. At least, not enough for me to think of examples off the top of my head. Right now I’m inclined to read that as an extension of her lived experiences/design—the cute 1950’s housewife archetype who is obsessed with keeping things clean doesn’t [gasp!] curse—as well as a way to maintain her legitimate creep factor. As said, cursing is common among the hotel residents and is a way for them to linguistically fit in. Niffty, however, is positioned more as an outsider (despite how much they all obviously love her): she’s actually scary in a way most demons aren’t and despite how weird this whole world is, she stands out as someone no one else can make sense of (even Alastor). If cursing is normal, Niffty is a character who is decidedly positioned as not normal.

Angel curses a fair bit, though his irreverence is conveyed more through innuendos. Angel is great at verbally twisting others’ words (especially Husk’s) to give himself a conversational advantage:

Husk: “Go fuck yourself” Angel: “Only if you watch me~”

Husk: “You’ve come—” Angel: [very loud orgasm noise] Husk: “...to the right place.”

Meanwhile, Husk uses “fuck” plenty, but he’s also one of the few characters who use “bullshit" too. I wouldn’t say there’s anything particularly revealing about that choice, but just giving him a go-to curse that’s otherwise used infrequently helps make his character distinct in a cast of other cursing characters.

Vaggie occasionally curses in Spanish, showing us her heritage if she used to be human, or a distinct knowledge/verbal preference if she’s always been an angel.

Heaven, as the ‘good’ side, doesn’t curse as a general rule, which leaves room for cursing to do more of that silent character work. We’re reminded of the stuffy, overly critical beings she’s dealing with when Charlie receives the combined judgement of the court for saying, “Fuck yeah!” In contrast, we understand just how shocked St. Peter is to see a Morningstar when he lets out an unintentional “Fuck!” The angry vindication of Charlie’s “That’s what the fuck I’ve been saying!” lands harder after multiple scenes of very little cursing, and Lute’s “Some crack-whore who fucked up already? / He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth—” helps set her apart as an exorcist + Adam's second in command: her shocking violence comes through in her word choice too; words that supposedly don't belong in Heaven.

In what’s arguably the funniest line in the whole show, Lucifer undermines his dramatic standoff with Adam by going, “You mess with my daughter and now I’m going to fuck you.” Beyond just cutting the tension, that fits his bumbling, oblivious personality perfectly. Lucifer is crazy powerful and can absolutely wreck Adam. He also has none of the classy intimidation that, say, Alastor displays when he tries to convey that. This is a depressed himbo who makes ducks in his free time and settles on, “Hey, bitch!” when greeting his estranged daughter. Of course he’s going to accidentally turn a threat into a promise of sex.

Which finally brings me to Alastor, someone whose cursing is already understood well by the fandom. He’s characterized as manipulatively courteous, using manners to both hide his true nature and draw attention to his power—’You’re so beneath me I’ll just calmly sip my coffee and politely ask who you are, despite the fact that we've fought multiple times.’ This is a guy who calls people “My dear” and unironically insults them with the phrase “wacky nonsense.” So when he curses you can BET it’s gonna have an impact. It sure did for me. I had to pause the episode after Alastor’s first “Fuck you” because it was so shocking to hear that language from him. And that’s the point! The scene wants that reaction from the audience. The "Fuck you"s visceral anger contrasting the fake laughs he and Lucifer have been giving, the quick-fire exchange that’s suddenly cut short by Alastor’s choice of a direct insult, the fact that he’s officially dropping the polite veneer they’ve both been indulging in and raising the stakes before Charlie intervenes, the loss of the radio filter that otherwise demonstrates his control over a situation... all of it screams, ‘THIS IS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER MOMENT.’

"Fuck you” reveals that, for the first time in the show, Alastor is legitimately threatened by someone. Which makes sense given that, you know, Lucifer is the King of Hell. Cursing for Alastor isn’t normal, so when he does curse it’s going to reveal something about a guy who otherwise is obsessed with being unknowable. Having the King of Hell dismiss him is actually infuriating in a way Sir Pentious’ threats could never be and the exchange kicks off a rivalry that rattles Alastor in ways Vox’s never has. (Side note: is it any wonder people ship them? Character A making control freak Character B feel vulnerable is classic!) It’s no surprise to me than that the one other true curse we get from Alastor is, “I’m about to end your fucking life,” delivered to Adam who, like Lucifer, poses a legitimate threat and does end up beating him. I say “true” curse because calling Susan a “bitch” does similar work for him, but the takeaway is humorous rather than dramatic. It’s funny that the only people who can piss Alastor off enough to curse are the First Man/a powerful exorcist angel threatening his life, the literal King of Hell... and Susan.

So there’s a lot going on here, more than what many viewers might assume if they approach the show as just “stupid,” needlessly vulgar entertainment. As shown above, I don’t think the cursing is needless, especially given that, well... they’re in Hell. They’re sinners, supposedly the worst that humanity has to offer, so of course they're going to curse a lot. Does cursing mean you’re a bad person? No. Can you craft a hellish world that doesn't rely on cursing to convey a group's immoral nature? Sure.

Does it make sense that a writer would equate a sinful, irreverent cast with linguistic rebellion and would want to convey a certain vibe that, frankly, you just can’t get without dropping an F bomb?

Yeah, I think so. No one has to like that kind of creative decision, but it’s worth acknowledging it as a deliberate choice.

That’s all! Thanks for reading this fucking long post ✌️

[grahminradarin]

Hi hey hello. I've been watching Miraculous since September, and I just finished.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS FANDOM?

That finale was amazingly well-made. I definitely get why people were disappointed, but there's no way that's everything. The writers who made the rest of the season so good are not capable of writing something this confusing and unsatisfying, unless it's on purpose. This story isn't done.

There has been a lot of focus in the season on class dynamics, but in the last couple of episodes they really start bringing this theme of how people deal with power to the forefront

With Ladybug and Chat deciding not to do anything against Chloe because it's not their responsibility even though they have the power to do it, everything with Lila, the increasingly reckless and harmful ways Gabriel is manipulating people because he thinks he gets to decide what is good for others, Gimmi complaining that no one ever summons them to tell them anything good and only summon Gimmi to use Gimmi's power.

And the thing that brings it together: Marinette's speech right at the end, just before Gabriel makes the wish, when she says the power is only valid when it's used for the greater good of other people.

And then the statue of Gabriel. Right after all of this, a statue commemorating the man who refuses to use his power for the good of others. The dissonance is on purpose. This story is thematically incomplete, and I think the London special will finally wrap it all up.

What does the fandom come away from this talking about? How interesting this all is and wondering how it gets resolved? No. The fandom on the subreddit (and some of them on Tumblr) say "The villain won without consequences! This is bad writing!" and "Why is Marinette not telling Adrien he's a sentimonster?".

I just. How do you watch that and come away with your biggest concern being "Marinette didn't tell Adrien the truth"? How do you not see that it's so much bigger than that? That's not one dangling plot thread, we're looking at an unfinished garment and complaining that the edges are fraying.

And a good portion of the fandom cannot for the life of themselves see the loom and the people working it still going. I don't know how to stretch this metaphor any further, but I cannot believe that anyone would look at something so blatantly incomplete and still treat it like it's the entire picture. It's a microcosm of a bigger issue with the fandom, which is, as far as I can tell, that this fandom wants to watch a different show. Seasons 4 and 5 are so vastly different from seasons 1 and 2, and I think the people that came here to enjoy the first two or three seasons but hated the later ones are angry with the show for not following the traditional kinds of stories in the genre.

This show isn't trying to be an episodic or somewhat serialized story about love squares and middle school nonsense. It's a deep and varied exploration of what being a magical girl does to a 14 year old (in addition to many other things), and it's not pretty. The show is trying to say "this was terrible for everyone, and it shouldn't have happened, but it did, and here's how". And most people didn't want that, which is fair. But it doesn't mean the show is badly written, nor does it mean the writers hate certain characters. It pisses me off that a show this well made, with so much time and effort and care, is constantly dismissed as a badly-written, disorganized piece of crap that people only like ironically. Something this well made deserves a more neutral presentation to let people form their own opinions, and it deserve appreciation for the innumerable things it does well, especially in later seasons and the specials.

In summary, Miraculous isn't bad. A vocal part, maybe even the majority, of the fandom just wanted something else based on the first 3 seasons, and hasn't realized it because they're so devoted to hating on the show. And it deserves a much better reputation than it has.

[maple-the-awesome]

Body Swap || Part 2/2

Part 1 ||

Pairings: Legend, Time, Twilight, Warrior x Reader

Overview: A wizard's spell leaves you both in a state of confusion, especially upon realizing you're no longer in your assigned bodies. No Wind for this one, so we'll just give him a cookie and spare him the trauma for today -.-/🍪 The other boys are at my mercy, though

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Panic ensues nearly the second your situation becomes realized. Legend frantically tugs at his hair and clothing, hoping this to be some sort of illusion cast by that wizard, however his senses only confirm his fears: you've switched bodies.

You're him and he's you which probably shouldn't be as big of a deal as he makes it out to be considering how much worse this could've gone, after all, a greater enemy might've caused actual harm, yet that doesn't stop him from being upset.

Out of everyone this could've happened with - out of all nine of his traveling companions - why did this have to happen with you, the only girl in the group?! Nevermind that you're also his crush!

"I can't believe this..." He groans, picking at another strand of hair and holding it in front of his face. Alas, the color isn't the same as his usual faded pink, "Give me back my body!"

You whip your head around at Legend's demand, finding yourself mildly offended by it which is shown through the placement of your hands on your hips, "Don't you think I would if I could? Like it or not, I think we're stuck like this –"

"- Are you kidding me -?!"

"- Until the spell either wears off or we find a way to reserve it," You narrow your eyes when he interrupts. Standing, you dust yourself while he copies the action except with some added complaints and curses mumbled under his breath.

"I can't believe this. Of course, this is how my day would end. I can't ever catch a break, can I?! The others are never going to let this go. It's all we're going to hear about for the next week!"

"Geeze, I didn't know a day in my body would be so terrible for you."

Legend frowns, not intending to make you feel bad. It's not like you asked for any of this yourself. You’re equally as inconvenienced. It's just...reeeally weird and uncomfortable knowing that he's technically you right now. He's currently in the body of the girl he finds most attractive and sometimes daydreams about –

"I'm sure you're not having any more fun than I am. Let's just get out of here and find a solution as fast as possible, okay?" Legend hastily grabs your hand, intending on getting you both out of this dungeon before you can notice the redness to his cheeks (at least, he's sure he'd be blushing if in his own body right now. Is it even visible on your cheeks, though?), however almost as soon as he pulls, he's nearly thrown back against your unmoving weight.

Kill him now. He isn't used to not having his power bracelets.

"Did you...want me to follow you?"

"...Obviously..."

"Do you also want me to hold your hand so you don't get lost?" You give his hand a squeeze, all the while wearing a shit-eating grin that makes his face even warmer than before.

"...Forget it and fuck off," With that, he drops your hand and marches off, yet you aren't far behind, chasing after him while clearly having too much fun with his reaction.

"You know, this is usually the point when you ask me if I'm on my time of month! Is that your problem, Vet? You're already hormonal after just a few minutes in a girl's body?"

Has his laugh always been this obnoxious? Does he owe Warrior an apology?

"...Well, this is troublesome."

Your eye twitches after Time's calm 'evaluation' of the situation, "...'Troublesome'? You THINK?! You know, when I woke up this morning, I did not expect to end up becoming a sixty-year-old man -!"

"- Sixty? Is that how old you think I am?"

"Well, you act like it sometimes!" You defend, huffing at the end of your sentence before trying to rise onto your feet which still feel wobbly due to that wizard's spell. It takes you a second - and you almost tumble forward like a newborn giraffe, causing you to start swinging your arms around in a desperate attempt to regain balance - but eventually you do succeed in the basic human function called 'standing', "We need to find the Veteran. This is his stupid world, so I'm blaming him for this happening!"

Time, meanwhile, takes pity upon you by letting your previous comment slide. Unlike you, he easily gets to his feet as if ending up in someone else's body is an everyday occurrence for him. His new height is something you take immediate notice of, mentally noting how strange it is to be looking down at someone – let alone him – from so far up. Is this how it always feels for him? No wonder he took on the mantel of being the 'dad' of the group so quickly. You all probably look like literal children to him!

"Thank Hylia we camped close to the dungeon. The others should be getting ready for dinner at this point, so they'll all be in attendance to take joy in our misery," You smile sarcastically with a wave of your hand, however you only take a few steps forward before turning around and realizing that Time isn't following you. His face also looks rather...alarmed?

"...You okay there?"

He hums and gives you an awkward thumbs up, yet that doesn't change his expression any nor does he immediately move to follow you. He simply stands there, his face bright with embarrassment until he finally clears his throat, "I...think I might've had an accident?"

"An 'accident'...?" You scrunch your nose, needing a moment to understand what he could possibly mean. Did he just piss himself as you? You would've thought he'd have more self-control even if he isn’t technically himself. Sure, it might be scary opening your eyes to find yourself in someone else's body, but it's not that scary to warrant - ...Oooh...You get what he means now...

When the realization sinks in, you can feel your own face grow warm. You had forgotten all about that, "Oh shit. I, um...Yeah that's not – It's harmless, really. You'll be fine, it's just -...You know what, just don't worry about, okay? Let's focus on getting ourselves switched back around first. You, uh...gonna be okay dealing with it for now?"

Sympathy laces your voice, however it isn’t exactly strong enough to hide your embarrassment. Seriously, could this get anymore modifying? You weren't trying to think about the whole 'my-crush-is-currently-in-my-body' thing, but you definitely can't ignore it now! Out of all the days of the month this could happen - How embarrassing for you both!

Fortunately, Time, ever the brave gentlemen, nods, that be it slowly and unsurely, "If you can do it your whole life, I can manage for a day..."

"That's the spirit!" Please, please, please say Legend knows a solution for this because you will absolutely die if you have to talk Time through a 'change' of certain materials tonight.

“Oh no…”

“What do you mean by ‘oh no’? What happened? Are you hurt?” Twilight’s voice – which doesn’t really sound like his own – gets progressively more concerned by each question until he finally manages to escape the wall of smoke around him. Once finally receiving a clear view of his hands, he suddenly understands the meaning behind your less-than-thrilled expression.

“That’s what I mean by ‘oh no’,” You frown, watching as he flips his hands around front and back to confirm the notable difference he sees. It would be difficult to ignore how much smaller and smoother they’ve gotten…or to turn a blind eye to all the other major variations throughout the entirely of his body.

“Has anything like this happened to you before?” Whatever surprise you have towards your shared predicament is either quickly recovered from or masked well, because you don’t hesitate to pick yourself up and start collecting your fallen belongings – or rather Twilight’s – from the ground.

“Can’t say it has. I’m guessin’ you’re in the same boat?”

“Yeah, this is the first time I can knock ‘switching bodies’ off the bingo board,” You shake your head, pausing to watch him stand as well, “I know Wind mentioned being able to control other people’s bodies or something like that before. ‘not sure if it’s the same or if he’d know how to fix this.”

“Even if not, we’re in Legend’s world. He’d have to know some kind of solution,” Twilight sighs, going to place a hand on his hip out of habit, but he instantly decides against it in a quick movement he hopes wasn't too obviously. Even if he's consciously in this body, it's still yours. Touching his hip now would be no different from touching your hip any other time which is NOT a friendly place for hands to be! At least that's what his awkward brain tells him.

Trying not to dwell too much on any of that, he makes himself useful by plucking your dropped sword off the ground and returning it to your scabbard the same way you had done with his before reaching down to grab -

“- Don’t touch that!” You’re startled to a halt by Twilight’s sudden shout and turn to give him a puzzled look as he gulps while eyeing the shadow shard you were inches away from picking up next, “It, uh…It’s sharp.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, and for a second he’s worried he might just have to tackle you to prevent you from touching the object in question (which now that he’s considering it, would probably only be as effective as a sparrow attacking a horse seeing as you’ve switched bodies not to mention you’d only have more reason to question him in that case but -)

“- All you Links are such terrible liars,” You huff after a minute. Nevertheless, you step aside and allow Twilight to pick up the necklace himself. He’s careful to only touch the string and tuck it securely in a pocket because the very last thing he needs added to this day is you finding out one of his greatest secrets by literally becoming it yourself which would then undoubtably lead to his second greatest secret being discovered, after all, it's one thing for a random wolf to let you give him kisses free of charge, but there'll be a lot more to unravel there if you find out it's been your travel companion the whole time.

"Okay. Try not to panic. There has to be some way to reverse this - ARE YOU CHECKING ME OUT RIGHT NOW?!"

Warrior jumps with a start after having been caught, although he must not be too embarrassed because he doesn’t immediately remove his hands from their place on his hips nor does he show much shame in currently having his body turned at an angle to look at his – or more importantly – your back side, “What?! You do it to yourself all the time!”

"T-That’s not - When I'm in my own body!” You stammer, blushing at the realization that you apparently haven’t been as subtle with your habit of checking your own appearance here and there, “Excuse me if I don’t want to walk around looking like a mess with dirt and leaves stuck to my backside! I’m not over here looking at your dick!”

"I hardly think you can equate that to an ass," He deadpans.

"Well, I'm not looking at your ass, either, pervert!"

At last, something you say seems to get to him, your words causing Warrior to bow his head with a pout and that shared discomfort he should’ve had from the beginning, “I’m not a pervert. If it’s such a big deal, then you can come over here and fix the backside of this tunic. It’s riding up on me and it’s driving me crazy.”

You blink then glance around him to notice that your tunic is indeed all out of sorts, one end lifted and tucked in your belt. It must’ve gotten stuck that way during your fight with that wizard…Now you just feel like an idiot…

“…Oh.”

“Oh,” Warrior mocks with a roll of his eyes, not saying much else – perhaps out of pity - as he waits for you to help fix the tunic correctly, although truthfully he’s just busy redirecting his eyes and cursing himself internally for not having explained the situation from the start. He maybe-kinda spaced the fact that he’s currently in your body and didn’t consider the implications of what it would look like for you to see him fussing over your back end. How were you to know he was simply fixing your tunic? He really did probably look like a massive pervert.

“There,” You finally step away.

“Thanks,” He coughs into his fist awkwardly with his opposite hand rubbing the back of his neck. Even in a different body, he carries the same nervous habits, “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to –“

“- No. No, you’re fine. I, uh, should’ve had more trust in you," You mumble, running a hand over your hot face before shaking your head. You need to get it together, "Come on. Let's just get out of here and find a way to fix this before any other misunderstandings can happen."

Warrior nod and follows after you out of the dungeon without another word to be said. He won't say it aloud - He refuses to even admit it to himself because he's supposed to be a gentleman and what if you've suddenly become a mind reader?...But if you were to for some reason ask his opinion, you do in fact have a fine ass.

[sepublic]

Hunter is NOT Luz’s brother, he’s not a Noceda, he’s not even that important to her compared to many other relationships Luz has and vice-versa. Like genuinely, go rewatch the show with this consideration in mind, cleanse the fanon for a fresh slate.

People just latched onto them as siblings because they found their Hunting Palismen dynamic funny, but also because they wanted to ward off Lunter. And they couldn’t articulate their dislike for Lunter as stemming from Luz’s longstanding dynamic with another female character being immediately replaced by fans for some white boy who just showed up, so they said they’re actually more siblings. It wasn’t an issue of biphobia it’s just people being tired of fandom thinking everything would be better if a woman was replaced by a guy. It’s the same reason Huntric also sucks because people replace a female character with some dude, it has nothing to do with bi/homophobia.

And FTR I hate Lunter, for the same reason I now hate the Luz & Hunter as Siblings take; It’s the fandom’s obsession with making Hunter more important than he actually is, to the point of replacing Luz’s actual important relationships with him. And hell even replacing Luz herself in her dynamics with her loved ones, because people portray Hunter as more Camila’s child than Luz when Darius is right there.

This fandom has a massive White Favoritism problem with Hunter, and he’s not even a female character he’s another White Boy, the most bland and milquetoast choice to raise as the fandom darling. He’s not THAT interesting and while him and Luz have their parallels and shared trauma and are still friends, what about Hunter and Gus? Or Luz and King, the latter explicitly calls Luz his sister but Hunter sure as hell didn’t! What about explicit on-screen dynamics huh???

ISTFG this fandom is overrun by Hunter content everywhere, he drowns out everyone except the literal main character and even she struggles sometimes! It’s because he’s a White Boy, that’s it. It’s not illegal to like Hunter, but you need to actually appreciate and engage with other characters accordingly instead of acting like that’s illegal. Hunter does the bare minimum and is lauded meanwhile everyone else goes above and beyond and is still overlooked for him.

Stop inserting him into everything we do not need Luz and Hunter angst we can just settle for Luz angst. She has other relationships and priorities you know and there’s so much more to this show than Hunter suffering. Sometimes you’ll even take Luz’s canon angst and give it to Hunter even! And try to make him more of a main character by inserting him into everything but he’s a side character.

So yes, your AU where Hunter is the main protagonist is racist. Especially if it doesn’t even explore Darius as his mentor, and has Eda take his place despite her barely interacting with him. And constantly praising Hunter for being a weird passionate nerd gets aggravating when Luz does the exact same thing but with greater emphasis, but gets ignored in favor of Hunter as she’s relegated to just Lumity.

And all of her additional depth and angst is just ignored for Hunter’s instead, sometimes they’ll even make up angst for him when other characters actually have it; I’ve seen popular fanart of a Luz moment where Hunter is in her place. Because fandom will sooner micro-analyze Hunter’s hands for nothing, than Luz going on a suicidal rant.

They’ll cradle Hunter’s trauma and suffering in their hands as a sacred and delicate subject, gnash at Darius for not being nice; But then sweep over Luz’s trauma and not realize how much certain things affected her, and why it’s fucked up to just ignore that in favor of bad AUs where Luz is a friend to Belos, who prompted a lot of her suicidal depression and scarred her face too.

They’ll insist Hunter should’ve been a bigger part of the finale and that Luz’s nightmare should’ve been her guilt for hurting him, as if it wasn’t already about Flapjack’s death and just her guilt towards ALL of her friends. So you know what, in addition to Hunter not even needing to kill Belos, I’m glad he wasn’t in that final battle and that the show reminded fandom who the actual main characters are (Luz, Eda, and King), which obviously pissed off a lotta people. Because it’s not like Hunter didn’t have major focus in the last two specials and S2B!!!!!!

[queers-gambit]

Bloodhounds

prompt: you and your husband have a different kind of foreplay that include disguises, sneaking out of the castle, and sometimes, fucking in an alleyway... Or two.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x highborn!female!reader no specified House

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: also NO physical description of skin, hair, but height IS mentioned inna way and weight IS insinuated because - let's face it - fucking against a wall ain't easy!! this is a STAND ALONE.

warnings: poor excuse for smut, explicit / descriptive language, i guess this is porn with a plot?? (surprise!) there's cursing, Cherry needs to get laid ASAP, stop giving her internet access!! half-edited, author mildly gave up. ✅ spoiler free

"My Lady, how go your studies? Aemond says you're making grand progress," Alicent smiled, leaning back in her high-back chair with a goblet of wine in her always-tight manicured grip.

"Oh," you quickly swallowed the bit of food in your mouth, perfectly trained to take small bites for moments such as these - but also, because it was 'unladylike' to eat with fuller cheeks. With a quick dab of the cloth napkin left on your lap, you nodded at her, "My Lord husband likes to exaggerate. Studies are going well enough, My Queen, but surely, I've much farther to go."

She hummed in contemplation, "From what I've heard, you're planning a trip to Pentos?"

Ah, so this is the reason she wanted you alone.

"I am wrestling with the idea, Lady," you assured softly, "yet, there has been no decision made, nor am I swaying any which way more heavily." You watched her carefully, "You have an opinion on the matter, do you not?"

"How can I not, sweet child," she sighed, setting her goblet down as you did the same to the utensils in hand, "when there is a possibility my son is leaving?"

You couldn't help it, truly. But the laugh was genuine, "My Queen! There is not a world in which I would dare take your son from you. If I decided to venture to Pentos, it will not be with my white-haired husband and his 180-year-old dragon. That warrants attention I do not wish for."

"You are a Targaryen now - "

"I do not look it," you nodded. "I have a no-name face and can still travel undetected. Your son cannot afford the same luxury."

"And yet, I cannot shake this feeling..."

"That feeling you feel is natural for every mother," you nodded, taking a sip of water to clear your mouth and throat of residue. "It is the dread that your children are growing up and will leave, like you were forced to as a girl." Her face was painted in earnest shock. "Do not think so little of me, Your Grace, I've done my fair share of familial research - but also, the maids like to gossip." Alicent chuckled some. "I am truly sorry for your mother, and that you had to leave home to live with your father here... But there will come a time your kids are going to spread their leathery wings and fly. If it's something I've learned in the few, short years of marriage? You cannot hold dragons back. Believe me when I say, I do not want to take your son from you, but should he make his decision, that's only his to make. For now, I am simply weighing pro's and con's. The idea of adventure is a little too tantalizing."

Alicent regarded you for a long moment before slowly nodding, "Then it shall be his decision."

"If you'd like, if I go and end up in Braavos or other, I'll send a barrel of spiced wine."

"Oh, you," she chuckled, waving you off some.

"How fairs the King?"

Alicent paused to smile softly at the woman she married her son to, and for a moment, let her heart beat with pride at such a fine young woman joining her family. Y/N L/N was a woman of great beauty and even greater brains, a woman her son could engage with; a woman she was pleased to see fit in effortlessly. There wasn't a single soul in the entire castle who did not like her - and it came in handy at times.

Y/N was also the only one who ever bothered to ask about Viserys anymore, too. So, Alicent smiled and nodded, "He has his good days and bad."

You nodded slowly. "I remember when my grandfather started to lose his mind... It was gradual, then one day, it was like a switch flipped. For the last few years of his life, he didn't know who I was, but with Mum and Da' out, workin', doin' whatever they needed to, I was with him day in and out... It wasn't easy."

"You've never spoke of your family before," Alicent sat up in intrigue. "Three years being married, six months of courting before that - and you've never spoke of them," Alicent looked at you with a sense of wonder.

"Some family's aren't worth the effort to discuss," you shrugged a bit. "The moment you sent word for the courting season, away I was swept, and my father was adamant on making a match. Can you imagine how happy he was to learn I was courting the Prince?"

"Was he?" Alicent asked softly, giving a knowing look.

"He kept asking if it were true, and asked if his dragon took his eye," you snickered to her. "Kept asking what rumors were true."

"Gods," she chuckled.

"I told him outlandish things," you admitted with a snicker. "He caught on eventually, cursed me to all Seven Hells... Stopped writing, and then word reaches me of his passing. Hm," you shrugged a bit.

"Well, you're better off without, yes?"

"Indeed, I'd say... Look, Your Grace, I have not made any decision about my travels. As of right now, I'm okay reading my books and letting my mind go on adventures - I will tell you when I have made a decision."

"All right..."

"You will be the second to know, after Aemond, of course."

She smiled, "Yes, yes. Of course."

You glanced out the window to the sun's position, finding it nearly completely gone, and turned to your mother-by-law. "Speaking of, I'm sure he's expecting me soon. I'll be going now," you stood slowly, waiting for her to stop you.

"Of course, yes, yes, go on," she smiled. "Thank you for tonight."

"Always my pleasure," you promised with a curtesy, turning after, and exiting the room. "Have a good evening, Ser Cole."

"And you, Princess," he nodded with a soft smile. "Good supper?"

"Oh, you know I have a love-affair with Chef Hayford's cooking," you chuckled, watching him return it with a nod of agreement.

Turning forward, you only had to travel a short way; mostly turning down three different stone corners to reach a more secluded hallway. Aemond preferred solitude, so, when you married, you snagged up the suite in the Western Wing that was newly renovated - but it was "sadly" away from most of the castle's traffic. So, of course it was perfect for the pair of you.

When you slipped in the door, Aemond was standing at the basin of water, shirtless, leaning heavily on the stone and wiping the back of his neck while lost in thoughtful contemplation.

"Aemond?" You questioned softly, shutting the door, and rushing for him. "Are you all right?" When in the light, you saw the discoloration of his skin, whispering, "Oh, my love..."

"It's not so bad," he answered in the same lowered tone.

"Liar."

"No, truly, it's not the worst I've had," Aemond straightened up, looking down at you with a soft smirk. "Hi, poppet."

"Hi," you smiled, letting him lean down some as you rocked to your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Cole was brutal in training, but it was good," he nodded, dropping the washcloth after wringing it out. "And yours, my love?"

"Well... Your mother's caught rumor of our plans..."

"What's that mean?"

"She directly asked if I mean to go to Pentos and if I mean to take you with me, as if to take you away from her."

"Gods," his eyes rolled, "swear, the walls have ears in this place."

"Tell me of it," your eyes rolled. "I think she's off the scent for now, but we should be more diligent and a little more careful..."

"Hmm," he considered, nodding after. "Yes, love. Right, then."

"Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"How about at Kavvin's?"

"In the city?"

You nodded with a grin, "Feelin' up for a game, love?"

Aemond turned to you fully, hands on your hips and a grin on his lips. "Yeah... Yeah, yeah, I could go for something to eat."

"Start there, then," you whispered.

"You've the time it takes me to clean up and change to get out of here," he smirked, forehead on yours.

You dashed around the room to change into a tunic, trousers, boots, and a thick muted-color cloak. Aemond chuckled to himself as you blew him an air kiss before sneaking through secret passage door... And away you went.

Once out of the Keep's grounds, it was easy enough to lose yourself in the city's streets; but kept to the plan and made for Kavvin's tavern. You slipped in and made quick work of finding the young lad, working on sopping up a puddle of ale, and dashing over to him.

"Princess," he chuckled some, eyeing you up and down. "What's it for you tonight, then?"

"Send him down the Street, I wanna see how far he'll go," you smirked some, squeezing his elbow as you slipped him a Gold Dragon as a tip.

"All right," he shrugged. "Want a drink while you wait?"

"Oh, please, you and I both know that man takes the longest fucking strides in the bloody Realm," you laughed a bit, Kavvin nodding in agreement. "If I want to win, I've gotta go."

"Back door's open," he smirked, pointing you off.

In fact, he had to restrain a laugh when not a full five minutes later, Aemond was stalking into the tavern - eye sweeping the area. He decided that for tonight, he was on your side, and made himself busy with other customers to stave off telling Aemond anything.

However, nobody flagged Kavvin down when they noted the hooded man with one eye stalk up to him.

"My Prince," Kavvin greeted softly, tossing the cloth he was using over his shoulder. "You're out late, aren't you?"

"Hardly," Aemond sighed some.

"Well, you will be," the lad smirked.

"Where's she off to?"

Kavvin shrugged, and Aemond slapped a Gold Dragon to his hand. "Uh, think she made mention of... Well, now that I think on it, 's a bit fuzzy, yeah?"

"Where, Kavvin?" Aemond growled, another coin dropped to his hand.

"Hm, yes," he examined the coin, "think she said something about goin' off down the Street, yes?"

"No, she didn't."

"Swear it, honest," Kavvin nodded. "Said she wanted to see how far you'd go tonight. You do somethin' to piss her off, mate?"

"Not that I'm aware of - though, she might think 'twas I who told the Queen of our plans."

"Well, that makes little sense," Kavvin chuckled, "for even I know, the idea to leave this wretched city was your own..."

"She's an easier scape goat for the courts and help to gossip about," Aemond frowned a bit. "The Street, you said?"

"Street of Silk," Kavvin agreed softly, offering a coin back, "honest, that's where she said she was headin'."

Aemond nodded and turned, leaving the bartender with his hand extended; but it quickly recoiled with a smirk as Aemond took leave. After a chuckle, Kavvin thumbed the coin to flip in the air; catching it in a swipe, then turning as he pocketed his extra coins as a few men grew louder and sloshed ale around - leaving Kavvin in for a long night tending his bar.

The Street of Silk was alive tonight, as it was all other nights. Lowly lit torches hung on the walls lined your way; most wearing hoods and darkened colors to hide themselves. Whores and Mistresses hung out of doorways and windows; hollering, snarling, laughing at any passing customer.

You didn't often dare to venture down this way, but tonight was special; you were in it to win. So, you ducked down a darkened alley and knocked three times, in a specific pattern, at the wooden door.

A moment later, it pulled open.

"What're you doin' here?" Tiyana smirked to you, leaning on the doorway. "My brithday or sum'thin'? Here ta treat me, is it?"

"Not tonight, my sweet," you smirked. "Carry a message for me?"

"To who?"

"My husband."

"Ain't no way," she shrugged. "He don't come down this way, no, ma'am. Ain't nobody seen the One-Eyed Prince 'round these parts since - well..."

"Yeah, yes, yes, I know. But he'll come this way, and I need you to catch his eye. Tell him to go by the markets."

"Oh - I get it," she laughed. "You two playin' that game, innit? Yeah? You two li'l freaks, is it?"

"A bit," you mused softly. "Will you do as I've asked?"

"Gonna come back and entertain me a bit?"

Your head cocked, eyeing her up and down, "Perhaps - though, my husband is often insatiable."

"Say that like I haven't eaten his cum out your cunt before, hey?" She smirked. "All right, yeah, fine, I'll tell 'im if he comes ta see me, yeah?"

"You're my favorite for a reason," you smirked, holding your hand out.

"Lady," Tiyana gasped, weighing the gold in her hand. "Th-This is more than I make inna month, it is! What'chu givin' it ta me for?"

"You've always been loyal and discreet," you eased. "Don't fail me tonight, love."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she grinned. "You're a right Gods-sent Lady, you is. I'll tell yah husband what you want - markets, you said?"

"Yeah, the market stalls," you nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," she smirked, nodding as you pushed off again into the city's streets.

This time, Aemond was slower to arrive on scene. He stood at the mouth of the rambunctious street, eyeing it with malcontent, but something in his stomach solidified and moved him forward. Bad thoughts and haunting memories swarmed Aemond's guts and mind, but still, he let his feet glide down the natural decline.

His eye surveyed the promiscuous activities around him, finding it would be the perfect place to catch you - but then, someone else was catching his eye.

She leaned in a low-bearing window, tits nearly fully popping out of her shirt; eyes rimmed in coal, and hair pulled off her neck. Her eyes ran over his hood and then noted the lack of an eye, motioning him forward. He didn't want to; there had been many who gestured to him all night, but for some reason, this was different... He glanced around, then moved forward.

"She's been to see you, Tiyana?"

"Not without you, Lord," the whore smirked, sitting herself on the window sill. "She's very loyal, that one."

"Being why you're helping her?"

"I'm helpin' yah both!" She laughed. "I want you both ta get laid, hey? So, listen, right? She went down that way," she pointed, "but said meet her in the markets?"

Aemond paused, lifting his gaze slowly. "Down that way?" He asked, pointing down the alley.

"Mhm - took a left, down there," Tiyana pointed, leaning out of the window a bit. "Can I ask something?"

Aemond sighed, glancing around them to the bustle of the drunken crowd. "Sure, what is it?"

"Why's it you two do this? Hey? Just wonderin' - life so bloody boring, you two need sex games?"

Aemond smirked a bit, "More like... We prefer to keep things interesting. You find new ways to get the blood pumping."

"I know a few ways," she smirked.

"I know," he whispered in agreement. "But you know the agreement - not without my wife."

"Wasn't tryna persuade yah, Princey, just wonderin' why yah's do this," she smirked.

"Keeps things... Fresh."

"Hmm," she nodded.

"Think a hunter and prey, yes?"

Tiyana grinned, "Ah, yes, there it is - yeah. All right, fair enough, my Prince. She went that way, but said markets."

"You're a hidden gem," Aemond smirked some, dropping more coins in her hand.

"And you two are me favorite customers," she winked. "Go on, get goin', she's waitin' on yah out there! Fuck 'er good for me, lad! Hey-hey!" She laughed loudly as Aemond pushed off, heading down the alley he was pointed towards.

Slowly, the sounds of the city fell behind him and Aemond noted the way this path took him closer to the water-ways. With a small smirk, he made a judgement call and ducked down a different alley; peering around to slink in the darkness.

Like a bloodhound on the scent after a weakening deer, the pair of you danced around one another; where one ducked into an alley, the other was tip-toeing away. He grew tired of waiting and decided to look around the market like you had said.

It was there in the maze of market stalls that you saw him, smirking as you quickly exchanged your cloak for a different colored one. From there, you picked up an abandoned basket and slunk around the outskirts of the stalls. You kept an eye on Aemond, moving when he did; keeping distance between you but feeling a little frisky.

So, you took a risk, and casually strolled by him as if intent on picking from the plum cart.

He didn't notice you; your eyes watching from under the hood as his tall figure allowed him to peer over heads. Again, you ducked around the few carts and stalls, just watching him for another moment.

Then, you ventured close to the apples... And again, Aemond was too busy glaring at a man who bumped into his shoulder to notice. You took another risk, and dared asking the vendor a question - voice clear on the air. Still, he did not notice.

After another few minutes of watching him turn in confusion, wondering where you could've gone, Aemond started towards the closest tavern - thinking maybe you were hidden in plain sight.

How right he was, but unknowing.

You crept around, exchanging your cloak again before jogging after your husband. However, when you peaked around the doorway of the tavern, you noticed how the white-haired man you loved and adored had effortlessly melted into the crowd, and now, you were back at a disadvantage.

Learning from past mistakes, you quickly turned and let your legs pump with effort to rush away from the markets.

Around a few corners and down two alleyways, you were arriving at the bay port - but only had a moment to recognize your surroundings before a hand clamped over your mouth as another quickly coiled around your middle to pin your arms.

You gasped into the calloused hand, feeling the strong chest slam into your back before forcing you back a few steps. With gritted teeth, you were slammed into the stone wall of one of the darkened alleyways. However, your eyes settled on your 'attacker' and quickly slitted. "Husband," you identified.

"Wife," Aemond smirked. "You're getting predictable, love."

"How'd you know?"

He shrugged, "I felt your eyes on me in the markets and figured I could blend in at the tavern. From there, I knew you'd follow to keep an eye on me, so, I waited, and when I saw you rush away, I took a shortcut."

"Mhm," you hummed, lifting your chin as he leered over you. "I did learn something tonight."

"What's that, my darling?"

"You blend in rather effortlessly when your hair's covered," you muttered as he slowly stepped closer so you were nearly cowering into the brick behind you. "Might do us well, after all... Should we choose to leave..."

Aemond's one hand rose to hold your jaw as the other planted against the wall to corral you to him. "You say that as if my mind's changed."

"Has it?"

"Not in the slightest," he promised, petting his thumb over your lips to catch the bottom one. "Where you go, I go, and away from this wretched fucking city is where I want us to be."

"You'd leave them?" You asked with a smirk. "Leave your family? For me?"

"For my own family?" He corrected, nodding, "Yes, I would've left yesterday if I knew."

"How fucked everything has become?" You whispered sadly, lifting a hand to pet down his collarbone and rest against his pectoral.

"Something like that," he nodded, lifting a knee to separate your legs. "You'd go with me? When the time comes, you'd go with me?"

With a sigh, you nodded, trying not to grind down on his thigh. "Anywhere, my Prince - anywhere you want, we'll go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you all but whimpered as the hand that once caressed your skin then moved to a bruising grip around your neck.

"Hold still," he nodded, "I won, yes?"

"Mhm."

"Then hold still while I claim my prize," he smirked, yanking his dagger from under his cloak and slowly dragging the pointed tip down your stomach. He didn't press hard, instead, dragging it between your skin and the cloth of your trousers. "Good girl," he crooned as he let the dagger's blade slit the seam of your pants.

"Aemond," you glanced up the alley nervously, body nearly trembling from anticipation.

"Shhh," he nodded, leaning in to breath in your scent. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other working to literally cut a slit in your trousers; letting his tongue flatten against your pulse point.

"Aemond," you whimpered, holding onto him tightly.

"Good girl," he purred again, sheathing his dagger and letting his hand drop again to then pet up your dampening slit from outside the cloth of clothing. "Easier, yeah?" He smirked against your ear, breathing deeply as he let his pointer finger push into your heat, praising, "So warm for me. But I need you wetter than this to take you - don't wanna hurt you, pet."

You groaned a little, holding onto him while keeping a leg up his hip. "What if someone sees?" You whispered against his mouth, practically mewling like a bitch in heat.

"Let them," he nodded, "all they'd see is a man, pleasuring his wife." Your breathing subtly changed as his mouth hung over your ear, promising, "Splitting her in two, watching as she takes his cock so fucking well. That's all they'd see, pet."

"Fuck."

"Hmm, fuck you how?" He smirked, letting a second finger join his first. "Want me to bend you over? Fuck you on the floor? Find those barrels back there?"

"Against the wall, want you t'take me against the wall," you nodded, a sheen of sweat slowly forming over your skin. "Wanna feel you in my fuckin' lungs, yeah?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants, she gets," Aemond growled, slapping your hands off him and readjusting you two. "C'mon, love, earn it - up, jump up, c'mon." When you did, he caught you easily, grunting, "Atta girl. Hang on," he panted then, pressing you against the wall as he adjusted to hold you against the wall while freeing his cock.

"Aemond, please, please," you begged softly, holding his jaw with both hands, "Gods, I need you to fuck me so bad."

"C'mere," he seethed, hoisting you a little higher to adjust his cock at your (cloth-cut) entrance. You both gave guttural moans as he let you sink onto him, grinding your hips into his to better adjust. "Fuckin' grippin' me too tight, love," he growled, hands squeezing your hips as you kept hold of his neck and shoulders.

"Gonna last f'me?"

"Might just have to pump you full, hmm?" He smirked, using his chest to slam into yours and righten your spine. His hand shot up to constrict around your neck, the other used to hold you on his hips; making your legs work overtime to stay atop him.

"Oh, Gods, fuck," you whimpered, hood still over both your heads as Aemond rammed into you.

"Told you - wasn't wet enough," he cursed in your ear.

"Feels fuckin' amazing, please, don't stop," you begged him, hearing his small grunts and growls start up as both hands moved to hold either thigh and keep you spread against the wall. "Oh, my Gods," you sobbed, truly unsure if you were feeling pleasured or not from the feeling of Aemond fucking through you.

"Ah, fuck, fuck," he hissed, hips stuttering as he met his first orgasm.

"Wow... That was record time," you teased quietly when he paused to keep you full to the hilt of his emptying cock.

"I warned yah," he smirked some, readjusting his hold as sweat coated his skin. "My cum just makes you wetter, hey? Yeah, look at that," he hissed, eye cutting down to watch his cock slowly pull back; revealing webs of cum between you and him.

Your hands pawed at his neck, tugging him forward; whining against his mouth, "I need more, please."

He smirked, "Gonna be a good girl and hold it all in until we get back to the Keep?"

You whispered, "What if I can't?"

"I'll just have to fill you again..." His cock twitched, making his throat bob. "Want your belly swollen with our kid, 's 'bout time, isn't it? For the Gods to bless us?"

"Yet you talk of leaving the city - "

"All the more reason," he promised, still holding you spread as he let his hips start up again; rutting into you slowly. "Protect you, protect our kid," he muttered into your neck, "get away from this fucking place - be safe. Be together - oh shit," he moaned.

"Yeah," you grinned, holding him to your neck; clenching your muscles to make him whine, "that's right, emotional intimacy turns you on, doesn't it? Hey?"

"Fuck - yes, yes, it does," he promised, starting to pick up his pace. "Just want you pregnant already, fuck's sake."

"Then fill me," you purred, clenching your teeth when his fully-swollen cock once more stabbed through you. "I wanna make you a Daddy."

"Shit," he breathed, turning his head when he heard noises; but did not stop. Three men and two women stumbled down the alley, drunk, cooing when they saw the couple against the wall.

"Ye-ahhh!" One leered.

"Give it to 'er!" Another hollered.

"Fucking fill me," you followed right after in his ear. "Oh, fuck, yes, please, right there," you hissed as he pinned you harder to the cold stone behind you, the group of five passing with their eyes glued to the pair of you. It was oddly erotic, spurring Aemond on as your mouth hung open in a silent scream.

His balls jackhammered into the wet apex of your cunt as his arms all but braced against you to keep you in place. You were moldable, you were limp, you were taunt with pleasure at the same time; you were a twitching, moaning mess when feeling returned to your limbs as his thumb found your clit.

"Take it, I know my girl can take it," Aemond growled, humping up into you to create friction at that special, gummy spot on your inner walls. "Oh, so fuckin' good, just take it, my precious girl," he praised, hearing the group still stumbling about at the other end of the alley.

"Why don't you fuck me like that?" One of the girls growled in annoyance.

"I can't hold yah like tha', by the Gods," her partner laughed.

Your hand slapped outward against the stone when your husband rubbed your clit in time with his thrusts; letting his mouth open slightly to bite at your shoulder and encourage you to do the same.

You came with a cry, mouth full of his shoulder's flesh; rolling your hips into his with your booted heels pressing into the meat of his arse as waves of pleasure rippled across your beings. Aemond wasn't far behind and when his cock was almost strangled by the clenching of your walls, he came for a second time.

It was enough for you both, panting in effort as your legs were numb. Aemond slowly pulled out of you, hearing you stutter to breath as his cum instantly pumped out to drip onto the pavement beneath you.

"Gods," Aemond breathed in shock, watching the puddle slowly grow.

"Ah!" You yelped when he lowered you, and your legs gave way; his arms darting out to instantly cling onto you as the back of your head thumped into the wall.

"Shit, love, all right?" His hand pressed to the tender spot as you pouted some. The group that watched had since passed, leaving you alone again with split trousers that grew wetter from the ooze of cum. Aemond was trying to catch his breath and support you at the same time, readjusting your clothes for you best he could. "Got it, love?"

"Can't feel my bloody legs," you complained lightly.

"C'mere, I've got you," he promised, arms tight around your waist. "Did good tonight, pet."

"But I lost?"

"'S not about winning or losing, in the end, we both reap benefits, yes?" You nodded. "And as you said, tonight gave you reassurance we could blend in across the Narrow Sea, did it not?"

"It did," you agreed. "But I want to wait until next month, I want to know if it's stuck."

"I'll fuck you everyday until then, yes? Breed you, like I know you want me to," he smirked, one arm holding you up to walk in front of him as the other fingered down the crack of your arse. "Keep walking, don't make a scene," he whispered in your ear, pushing his fingers into your cunt as you lead the way through King's Landing. It wasn't the most comfortable, but Aemond made it doable; pausing in another alleyway to push your chest to the stone wall.

"Aemond," you cursed his name into the wall brushing your cheek.

"Easy," he chuckled, nudging your feet apart. "Take me once more and I'll carry you home."

"Aemond?" You reared back a little when his hardened cock pushed into you again.

"What do you need?"

Your hand raised to pet over his cheek, back bowed to hold yourself up and keep him inside you. "Make me a Mommy, please," you whispered, earning a sharp slap to your arse cheek before his hands seized control of your hips.

"Hold it in this time, then," he teased, starting to thrust into you like a wild horse; bucking his hips into yours to create ripples across your flesh. It seemed as if your frantic motions in the middle of the alley deterred anyone from turning down it, leaving a brief moment of privacy in the sweltering city night.

One of his hands slithered up your front to fondle your breast, tweaking a nipple until you were nearly collapsing into the wall. Aemond had to hold you slightly as you bent lower, almost desperate to take him to the hilt as you fucked back against him - and he took full advantage of your new position.

Aemond kept his feet with your own, hands on your hips; thrusting harder into you as sweat beaded on his skin to roll down his pearly flesh. "Fuck, Gods be fucking good," he cursed, "how's it you're this tight, still? Hey?"

You whimpered wordlessly, gasping when one of Aemond's thumbs came to gently rim around your puckered hole. He didn't often let himself explore your arse, but sometimes, to catch you off guard, he liked testing your limits. After making him venture down the Street of Silk by himself, he figured a little payback was in order.

A stranger started down the alley and actually paused to watch the pair of you, Aemond's spit being spat from his mouth onto your holes; winking in the distant moonlight.

"Take it," Aemond growled when your legs gave way, and sent you both careening into the dirty floor. It only spurred him on further.

"Don't stop," the stranger recommended, loosening his breeches to take his cock out and pump himself to life.

Aemond, fully enraptured with the feel of your cunt, let his hand latch onto the back of your neck to hold you in place as he thrust harder, harder, harder into you. Your hips bruised from the way he pounded you into the cobblestone, growling as he glanced at the stranger.

"Oh, shit," the man nodded, pumping faster. "Yeah - look me in the eyes, mate, that's it."

"The fuck?" You whispered, glancing up to watch.

"Eyes on him, Princess," Aemond demanded, fully hunched over you as he felt his stomach's coil tighten; informing you, "almost there, precious girl, keep bein' a good fuckin' girl - oh, ah fuckin' Hell!"

"Oh, yeah," the stranger nodded. "Can I cum on her, mate?"

"You wanna die?" Aemond snapped.

"Lemme use her mouth," the stranger complained, head tossed back and eyes screwed shut. "Betta yet, lemme a turn!"

Aemond gasped behind you, stalling his hips into the meat of your bum while letting his cock pump you full of his seed. He recovered much quicker than you, kissing your temple as he unsheathed himself from your velvet warmth to stand, tuck himself away, and stride up to the man still masturbating to the sight of your swollen, dripping cunt.

"Woah - hang on - wait, wait, wait!" The man gasped as Aemond stabbed him non-fatally in the ribs.

"Go - before I decide I need your life for even looking at her," he sneered, shoving the man away while yanking his dagger free. A splatter of blood echoed in-between your heaving breaths.

When he turned back, he smirked at the sight of you; fucked-out and unable to find your feet, limp on the dirt-riddled cobblestone. "You didn't have to do that," you told him softly when he neared you to adjust what was left of the tatters of your clothes.

"I did," he smirked. "C'mere, up yah get. Think my wife's earned a hot bath, don't you?"

"Will you join me?" You asked, letting him lift you bridal style. The cloak was long enough that when he picked you up, it covered your cum-soaked hole in his arms.

"I can't resist you, pet," he frowned, "we wouldn't be doin' much cleaning, hey?"

"So?" You smirked, arms tight around his neck. "I want to make you a Daddy, Aemond, best we... Do our due diligence, yes?"

"You make a fair point, Princess," he smirked. "If you can handle it, I'll fuck you the rest of the night, yes?"

"I'm an orgasm behind," you reminded softly as he chose a lesser-used secret entrance into the Red Keep.

"Hm, yes, I seem to owe you one," he smirked in agreement. "Better stay awake, then."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[pleasantspark]

What do you think of this potential 4chan leak that Lucifer is the one responsible for the hierarchy and that Sloth, Gluttony and Lust are considered good sins? https://desuarchive.org/co/thread/145383112/#145394767

> Lucifer created the terrible hierarchy of Hell as well as the Deadly Sins. He is described as a moral neutral sin.

Well, neutral is far cutting it, remember he caused nearly everything to happen in Hell. He's described as sexy, when the only sexy thing about him is his depression. No one pointed out that Lucifer was at fault for all the things to begin with, but no people are like "B-B-B-B-BUT, we needed a story to kick off Charlie!" I feel like it's stupid, also, I am a depressed person and whenever a character who is depressed does something bad, they always have to empthize on the "UWU Depressed shit" which is shit you'd see on r/gachalifecringe or r/gachaclubcringe (Which I am a moderator on, and let me tell you, the Gacha side of the Hazbin Fandom is fucked up.). I feel like most don't care because they'd much rather ship RadioApple then point out the absolute fuckery that is Lucifer himself.

>The good sins are Asmodeus, Bee, and Belphegor. The bad sins are Satan, Leviathan, and Mammon. Beelzebub actively hates the hierarchy and how it treats her hellhounds, but there isn't anything she can do about it.

Okay, first off all the sins are bad, they cannot just pick and choose. For FUCKS sake, you know who her favorite is, the funny thing is, I like Mammon, he's cute and his design/accent are great (But nothing comes greater then Jeice), so she failed at making villains scary when all they are is extremely comical people who suck at villianing and suck at life.

> Leviathan is female and a fashion queen. Alot of Envy will be focused on fashion.

Paint me green and call me a fucking pickle, more backlash would be fucking impossible. Remind me what the fuck does Fashion have to do with Envy?

Sure, people can be envious of others looks, but that ISN'T the only thing possible to be envious of.

This is Leviathan from my Universe, he's a victim of abuse from his father. (Who by the way died because of the effect he has on people, later on.)

According to Levi's official description on the Wikia:

Leviathan isn't actually Envious, rather the curse he has causes anyone nearby of him close or not to get envious of him as a person which is the main reason why Agatha is acting out.

This would've been better, but complicated storylines and things pulled from TVTropes isn't what Viz likes. Yes, Leviathan is meant to be Stolas from HB but better, and yes, I DO VOICE LEVI.

So what's the issue with Levi liking fashion? Well, it's obvious that she needs another Diva because at this rate Velvette isn't enough, and most of the fuckers in the Pride Ring seems to be fitted for other rings too.

I feel like she's trying to assign something to these character's to make them unique, but they aren't.

Lucifer is literally the Sin of Pride, and the only thing prideful about him is his fruitiness, so add that to the level of "Bible things that Viv added" he's far from prideful, and that's a fact.

Coming from someone whose gay myself.

Mammon, oh sweet sweet Mammon, is just the Greedlr, but a Fat Nickado Avocado Characters, minus the screaming and fits. And aussie. Because "oooo people with accents arre baad"

Beezlebub, is just, well a Bee, because "HAHAH FUNNI BEE-ZLEBUB" she wanted to relieve her golden years of AMVs and Animation Meme-Esque content, also so she can brush hands with Kesha-Senpai. I swear to fuck, she asskisses alot.

And I am BARELY getting started.

> Stella is a decent mom to Octavia. She doesn't have many powers and isn't summoned to Earth like Stolas is.

If she's such a great Mom, you so claim she is, Viv, then why not show and NOT FUCKING TELL. All we see of her, is the way to make the audience feel bad for a [N word, black POC here. Don't wanna say it.] that ain't shit, Doja Cat was right, he ain't shit.

This is ridiculous, this was seen with Jeffy in SML, he was a hated character, Logan tried every trick in the book to get the audience to feel bad for him (I.E. Giving him an emotional manipulative mom, losing his sister, WITNESSING HIS LITTLE SISTER GETTING MOLESTED, etc etc) but the problem with making an auidence feel bad for the character, it gives a in character excuse to let them continue being pricks without any character development.

In conclusion:

More pointless rep that will be thrown out as soon as it appears

More things to hype up, but ultimately fumble the bag

It sucks