#frank x hugo

[k-wame]

THE NEVERS 1.05 | Hanged | Fantasy, Sci-Fi

[omandergoodness]

"I loved, and I loved,

And I lost you,

And it hurts like hell"

[bisexualshitwholovesshakespeare]

[cinematicnomad]

SUCCESSION ▸ 4.09 church and state

[hogwartsthenextgeneration]

[luckyshinyhunter]

👽🧪🎹🧄All of them played by the same actor, everyone, Dan has eating left and right with these roles!👽🧪🎹🧄

[ace-of-garlic-breads]

hp next gen au info (in age order until after Louis)

James, Albus & Lily=Hinny kids

Victoire, Dominique & Louis = Bleur kids

Roxanne & Freddie = George x Angelina kids

Molly & Lucy = Perciver kids

Rose & Hugo = Romionie kids

Frank & Alice = Nannah kids

Lorcan & Lysander = Luna x Rolf kids

[senselessviolets]

“stay soft”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E (Smut)

Word Count: 3.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Mommy kink, smut, some plot, this man has MOMMY ISSUES™️, gentle femdom, titplay, breast sucking, so much dirty talk, Roman gets called “baby” a lot, no PIV, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

The people have spoken—y’all want Roman being fucking babied in bed so that’s what the fuck I did and I have zero regrets. Totally gave up in the end but school’s been incredibly draining for me so I’m proud of myself for even getting THIS out.

[Gif creds: I forget. if it’s yours, lemme know!!]

Summary:

You are an equally wealthy childhood friend of the Roys and Roman in particular. After years of little to no contact with him, he and you decide to finally act on the mutual attraction you both share in the most ‘Roman way’ you can think of. 

“Okay, but like if we…fuckin’...if we fuckin’ do this, I will want…some things. But I’m not g’na fuckin’ beg or anything…call you mommy, ‘goo goo ga ga’…none of that shit. I will want you…to be there…and I will want you to ‘not be there’...if you catch my drift. I-I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word or a single moan. I don’t want—I just don’t want it, okay. And this might sound bad—even though I’ve definitely said worse—but you would be just a-a means for me,” a voicemail blears in your ear as you are made aware of the four calls you missed in your slumber, “‘Kay? I dunno. Think it over. It’s not fuckin’ life or death. Until it is. And I kill you. And hide the body and burn the evidence…kidding! ‘Kay, love you, kidding, ‘kay, bye!”

This was uncharted territory for you both. 

You and Roman and the other Roy children were longtime family friends. Like Stewy Hosseni or a lesser example Ray Kennedy. What that meant was your incredibly loaded dad gave Logan Roy an ungodly sum of money in the nineties and had managed to stay on his good side ever since. At their status, that’s what qualified as ‘friendship’. Everything was a transaction at the end of the day. Like you suspected Logan and Caroline had bought their way into their kids’ hearts, to even be in the same room as these titans—to breathe the same air—you had to beg, steal, or borrow. Fortunately, you hailed from less-than-humble beginnings; your father being an incredibly successful venture capitalist-turned-philanthropist and your mother the heiress of a billion-dollar publishing company. 

But it was all just details. 

You were eternally grateful to be an only child, imagining an existence where you and your progeny were destined to forever claw at each other's throats—all for whatever scraps your parents were generous enough to leave you.

Unfortunate. ‘Pitiful’ felt more accurate. Every hollow soiree and vapid function served as a reminder. These were not your people. And they never would be. And yet—

“Heya! Well, you look less miserable than usual. Lemme guess, you finally ditched Loser What’s-His-Face and have taken up my longstanding advice of giving lesbianism a try,”

“Hi, Roman. No, I’ve actually been reminiscing about our younger years together. Remember the time you threw up in your mouth before presenting me my corsage the night of the winter formal? Seventh grade? Ring a bell?”

“That was because it only dawned upon me then that I would be getting Cody Keener’s sloppy seconds,” he answers, “I just couldn’t cope with that, I’m sorry,”

You slug him in the arm and he reacts overdramatically, as if someone stuck him with the pointy end of a knife. Onlookers included none other than Frank Vernon, Hugo Baker, and a close friend of your mom’s, Michelle Anne. This time, you and Roman had crossed paths at your father’s 70th birthday party. It was held at your parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side and attracted a decent crowd. Faces you’d sworn you met pass you by as strangers come up to you, recounting memories of you who were only this tall. It was always a discombobulating experience but you continued to frolic and mingle nonetheless. 

In truth, this little ‘reunion’ was nothing but a facade. 

You and Roman had been talking for weeks now after years of no contact with one another. Brief texts turned into prolonged phone calls which by the end of the night became one-sided, pathetic voicemails expressing some sort of yearning for the other. It was becoming all-consuming and quite frankly, exhausting. And now it had finally come to blows. 

There was a plan, there were contingencies (of course, there were) but above all—there was transparency. And that was something you could hold onto. Oh, the many men who lied their way into your bed. And then here comes Roman, who’d made it abundantly clear he’d rather inhale glass than have you worm your way into his. So this scheme would not transpire at his place or yours. 

It would be occurring in a Central Park Suite at The Carlyle—just a quick jaunt from your parents’ place. He deigned to be a gentleman and handled the reservations as well as your transportation because you had to already be there. You were going to be lying on the bed, in some satiny sleepwear. No lingerie, no hosiery—nothing that could be construed as ‘sexy’. You were to look mundane, average, and bored. 

Roman would enter and you would be still and let him do as he pleased. While you’d had this endeavor nailed to a T, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of him going off-script—doing things rougher, harder, doors off the hinges, letting his darker impulses get the better of him���didn’t make your knees buckle a bit. 

So once the candles had been blown, the birthday wishes made, and goodbyes were said—you were to slide into his black Range Rover SV while his secondary chauffeur Crispin brought you to your destination. In your duffel was your change of clothes and a few other goodies. It had crossed your mind—once, twice how exceedingly easy it would be to bail right about now. Crispin could drop you off on the side of the road like some floozy and then your personal chauffeur could pick you up and drive you back to your cozy brownstone for a mundane evening spent by yourself—alone. That was the part that struck a pang in your stomach. That was the truly unbearable part. That, and the heat between your thighs which was starting to become really inconvenient. 

…

Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

You had already slid your sequin cocktail dress off and exchanged it for your satin sleepwear. Like the pretty kept thing he’d instructed you to be, you lay flat across the plush hotel mattress, awaiting his arrival, legs swinging to and fro like an eager teenage girl.

Maybe he’d be the one to pussy out.

At least then you’d have yet another thing to hold over his head for the foreseeable future. In your phone’s front-facing camera, you inspected the makeup you’d done earlier that evening for the party and it still seemed sufficient. Your lips seemed a bit drab. You roll off the bed and I sift through the contents of your bag, searching for the mauve lip color you’d brought along. Dabbing it onto the purse of your mouth while gazing into the mirror of the room’s modest vanity—you begin to lose track. 

This isn’t it and you know it. 

You know it. 

So fucking do something about it. 

Examining the time on the wall clock, you decide to hastily shake off your striped satin pj set and tear through your duffel for the sheer lace slip and matching long gloves. Not liking the unkemptness of your long hair at this particular moment, you palm your bag for one of the chignon French hairpins that had sunk their way to the bottom—a go-to for you since your younger years. The best you can muster is a half-up, loose, more-than-messy low bun because suddenly, a knock on the door can be heard. Your heart leaps into your throat and you shove your duffel bag into the armoire in a hurried panic. The click of the hotel room’s keycard lock comes next and you spring to the door as to be the one to open it. You and Roman meet each other’s gaze through the crack of the half-open door, you two beam down at your hands, enclosed over both sides of the handle. He is very noticeably startled, not expecting you to answer the door.

“C-Come on in,” you stutter, gesturing into the hotel suite with a gloved hand. 

Roman’s mouth goes dry. It is not all that often the family jester is able to be truly caught off-guard. This absolutely was one of those times. He shuffles into the room with tepid steps and doesn’t turn around to face you until he hears the door click shut. With a blank, nonchalant expression—he shrugs, prompting you to provide some sort of explanation. Of which, you do not possess. 

“What?” you say. 

“What’s…all of that about?”

“Yeah, sorry…wasn’t really feeling the pajamas tonight. I opted for something I felt was a little more fitting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,”

He definitely fucking does mind actually. But any frustration at being caught unawares expresses itself in the form of big beautiful hazel eyes beaming at you with fear and uncertainty. His lips are parted, unable to form the words he can’t even begin to think of at this particular moment.

“So…,”

“...so…?”

“So…lay down,” you finally say.

Roman is able to briefly channel the smarmy assholeishness he usually hones with a sarcastic scoff and smirk. He shakes his head to himself before his gaze finds the floor. 

“...I’m sorry, maybe you just didn’t hear me right the first time,” you say, crossing over until you are eye-to-eye with him and your competing breaths can be felt, “...or maybe I should’ve been a bit more specific.”

You lean in until your lips brush the outer shell of his right ear and he stops breathing. 

“Roman. Lay the fuck down on that bed. Now.”

He quickly scrambles onto the bed, resting on his back while slightly sitting up. There is a tentative eagerness in his demeanor as if the last hints of resistance in his muscles had yet to dissipate.

“Good. Now can you unbutton your shirt by yourself or do you need my help?”

“...I-I-I need your help,” he mindlessly babbles, “P-Please. Please, can you help me?”

You click your tongue at his wanton request, attempting to maintain your composure. It was after the first ‘please’ that you knew you were going to willingly give everything in you to this man right then and there. 

The safeguards? Fuck the safeguards. 

The time for self-preservation was about five or so minutes ago before his knuckles had rapped gently on the heavy wooden door. Without breaking eye contact, you straddle him effortlessly, both knees on either side of his hips. You aren’t certain because all the blood had flooded to your ears and you were unable to hear much over the thumping of your own heartbeat but you swear you hear a quiet ‘oh god’ slip out of him. Your fingers find the buttons on his grey button-down and your wrists noticeably begin to shake as they undo them.

For fuck’s sake.

Up until this point, you had conjured the impression that you were the one in control here and that there was nothing he could say or do otherwise. But now the true vulnerability of the situation had begun to set in. The playing field had been leveled. 

His fingers enrapture yours and he steadies your grasp as you both work to unbutton his shirt. Roman swallows, anxiously. You get more than half of the way there before he gives up and presses his face firmly to yours. 

It’s a declarative kiss. 

It’s long-lasting and when the two of you eventually break it—you know there’s no going back. Those hands of his, wracked with nerves, find their way to your hips. He slowly drags the lacey fabric up so your upper thighs are exposed. Once you can feel the soft flesh of your hips exposed to the cold air, you grab his wrists and he freezes. 

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think I remember saying you could do that,”

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t—I’m sorry,”

“So many apologies, they just keep on coming,”

“I’m…,” he deeply exhales out of his nose. 

“You’re what? Wait, lemme guess,” you goad, “Sorry?”

He bobs his head up and down, face full of embarrassment.

“Hm…think I’m a little sick and tired of those ‘sorrys’, sweetie. You and that mouth of yours. Oh, that fuckin’ mouth of yours. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of headaches it’s caused me in what, the two decades I’ve known you? What are we gonna finally do about that mouth?”

Roman looks up to you, hanging onto your every last word. 

“I-I don’t know, j-just tell me what to do. I can make it up to you, I-I promise,”

You genuinely take a moment to mull it over, though the growing hardness pressing against your most intimate place admittedly was making it hard to think.

“...I think…we need to find another use for that mouth of yours—something to keep it busy, hm? How does that sound, my sweet baby?”

You swear his face goes pale as he assumes you mean your cunt. While the thought had crossed your mind (many, many times in fact), knowing Roman—you know that would be too much. And that you would lose him forever somewhere along the way and you didn’t even want to begin to think about that. 

You tilt your head, staring longingly at that poor little boyish face of his. Your clothed index finger traces its way slowly from the exposed flesh of his tummy, up to his ribs, across his collarbone, along his Adam’s apple, over his bearded chin— finally stopping at his pinkish bottom lip. You pull it down, making him pout for you. 

“Open for me,” you utter softly. 

Roman obeys, his tongue moving upwards in his mouth when he swallows. You continue to tease around his mouth torturously, the lace creating a delicious friction against his beard. The heat of his pants against your lone finger makes you stir inside. 

“Now, close your eyes—mouth still open,”

He noticeably resists before relenting, his eyes flutter closed. You drop one of the spaghetti straps of the slip off of your shoulder, exposing yourself. Your nipple pebbles in the cool air conditioning of the room. You awkwardly lean your torso inwards, inching your breast closer to his mouth. For a brief second, his eyes flick open, taking in the scene. Catching your drift instantly, he swallows as much of the soft flesh as his mouth will allow, moaning into it. The most obscene sucking sounds soon fill the room. Roman whimpers into your skin, letting his head fall limp against your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head. His brown fluff of hair is too tempting for your hands to not tangle themselves in. 

“There, you go…you’re so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head backward.

You swear you can feel your hips gyrating on their own. Roman’s fingers have ensnared themselves onto the flimsy fabric of your slip, gripping it so tight you think it might tear. Not that you’d give a shit if it did. 

“Y’know what I think? I think you act the way you do all the fucking time because you’re just waiting for someone to come and put you in your place, is that right? Yeah? You’re a brat ‘cause you want someone to do this to you? Hm?”

He releases your nipple and an almost pornographic line of spit drools from his mouth. Roman’s lips are plump and rosy, kiss-bruised and swollen. You find out just how warm they’ve become when his wet mouth comes to meet your own in a kiss so messy, you know you’ll touch yourself thinking about it later.

“I-Is this good? A-Am I being a good boy for you?”

“Mm-hm, you’re being a very good boy for me. My good boy. Mommy’s good boy, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—” he sobs, moving onto your other breast.

His voice is shrill and wrought with desperation. You only ever heard it get this high-pitched when he was making a mocking impression of you or some other woman. And now here he was, making these noises all on his own. The edge of his bottom teeth catches your nipple in just the right away. You squeal, jolting upwards in his lap and laughing at the surprise sensation. He soothes the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue immediately after. 

“That’s it. There’s my boy, there’s my sweet baby boy,”

All of the sudden, his hands leave your slip and fly to the buckle of his belt. Roman undoes his zipper and shimmies down his slacks enough to pull his dick out. He jerks it quickly with his eyes wound tightly shut in an attempt to get himself completely hard. 

“M-Mommy, c-can I see ‘it’? P-Please, god!” Roman begs out.

Your current position leaves his cock hidden by the hem of your slip. All you can see is the silhouette of his fist in the fabric pumping up and down speedily—relentlessly. He could easily just lift the skirt himself and look at your bare pussy, just as he hungrily wants but he doesn’t. 

He waits. He waits for you to give him permission. 

“See what, sweet boy? Say it, use your words for me. You’re a big boy, you can do it. I know you can,” 

Your hands cup his face and you rest your forehead on his. The skin is taught and slick with sweat. A vein above his brow becomes visible as he strains into his own palm. 

“What do you want, Roman?” you reiterate, trying to regain his attention.

“Fff-fuck! Your p-pussy, I wanna see y-your pussy!”

“All together. Say it all together. Say ‘Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?’” 

“Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?”

His eyes finally open and they aim downwards, expectantly. 

“Is that all you want, pretty boy?”

“N-N-yes!”

“Is that all you want?”

“No! No, I wanna cum, I-I wanna f-f-finish! W-Wanna finish on it,” he whines.

“All together, baby…”

“Mommy, can I please finish on your pretty pussy?! Please!”

It’s on the last syllable of his sentence that he erupts. Only as he’s cumming is he able to look at your cunt. You swiftly move the fabric up and his load catches the edge of it, the rest of it coating your exposed pussy. Roman falls backwards limp onto the pillow and you roll off of him and the bed and onto your jelly-like legs. The two of you don’t look at each other, occupying opposite sides of the room while you make yourselves decent. You shed your stained garment, using it to wipe your cunt clean. You fling it onto the hotel carpet and don’t think twice about it. 

“Mind if I…borrow that…for a bit?” a weak voice croaks from across the suite. 

You turn your head and smirk, still topless.

“All yours.”

Briefly, you catch a glimpse of Roman from behind, buttoning up his shirt. You pull up your dress, sweatier than before when you had taken it off. You expected there to be a palpable shift between the two of you, had everything gone according to plan. You figured the next RECNY ball that was just around the corner might be a bit awkward but it was nothing a few sarcastic quips and some alcohol couldn’t fix.

“My guy’s still waiting out front, so that’s my not-so-stealthy getaway. I can have Crispin pull around in twenty if I guess, I dunno, you wanted to shower the stank off of y…”

Roman’s words trail off as he becomes caught up in the sight of you; your cocktail dress zipped up halfway, your hair in an even messier updo than before, one heel on with the other remaining to be seen. It left him dumbfounded, feeling impulsive, like he could leave everything behind then and there and things might turn out alright. 

“Um…d’you maybe wanna just come with me…I dunno. Back at my place, I mean. And don’t make it into…it’s not a thing. Th-This is not a thing. But, yeah, we could order in whatever you, you could stay over, I-I got spare rooms–”

“Roman—”

“—it-its not like a big deal or anything, y’know? This isn’t, this wasn’t ‘a thing’. Fuckin’ labels and everything, I m—”

“Roman! That all sounds fine; I just would like to exit one of the nicest hotels in the damn city not looking like a two-bit whore, yeah? Come and zip me up,”

“I mean, if you ask me—I think it’s a rather fitting look,” he says, echoing your previous words.

“ROMAN!” 

“Alright, fuck, fine!”

End.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[luckyladylily]

Followed from the 'men or bear' post and simply trying to be social,

never read (or watched) dune but why do you feel its over rated?

So I've overplayed it a bit over the years because it's fun, but I have basically two major problems with Dune.

The first of course is the standard early to mid 20th century problem of it was written by a sexist racist white guy, but also I can't exactly judge if Frank Herbert was unusually racist and sexist for the time. But it is very much there, and it very much impacts the quality of the series for me. I don't really talk about this much because a given when dealing with older sci fi.

The second point is where I really get my rant on. See, the thing is Dune isn't the worst book ever. But for many years, well into the 2000's, a very large and very vocal group of people insisted it was the greatest sci fi novel ever written. So, in high school, I pick up the novel.

Now you need to understand, I read voraciously as a teenager and at a very high level. I'm not saying I'm better than other people but when you've read Moby Dick you get an idea of what a master can do with words. When you've read Issac Asimov you begin to understand how ideas can be woven together in a mind expanding way.

So I pick up "The greatest sci fi novel ever written" expecting it to be, at the very least, good. It was not good. It did not even come close to meeting the least of my expectations. I was astounded that anyone considered *this* the greatest sci fi novel. Really? Better than Foundation? Better than Frankenstein? This shit won a fucking Hugo and a Nebula? People compared this favorably to Lord of the Rings?

It's not fucking Lord of the Rings.

Anyway, what is actually wrong with it. Starting off, the book has decent ideas, but they are not presented in a particularly inspired way, nor is it the best presentation of those ideas. It was the first time that a white guy presented many of these ideas that he borrowed from other sources to other white people, and I guess that counts as originality back then. But in that respect it is just uninteresting. The real problem is how it is written. Which is badly, both in terms of prose and plot.

I am going to link you to my rant on Dune chapter 1. I discuss prose and presentation in that rant. It is difficult to summarize because there is just so much wrong with it. But to give an example of where it falls short in plot, lets talk about an event early in the first book. This is a spoiler, so fair warning. I call this the most uninspired and unearned betrayal ever.

Paul, the main character, is the heir to the House Atreides. In order to set up the rest of the plot, Herbert needs House Atreides to be destroyed through treachery. But Duke Atreides, Paul's dad, has to be shown to be a brilliant, wise, and capable leader. No run of the mill treachery can get past him. To solve this problem, Herbert introduces Duke Atreides personal doctor, and Duke Atreides directly states to everyone (especially directly to the audience) that this man is 100% trustworthy and unbreakable because he has undergone special mental conditioning making him incapable of causing harm. In X many hundred or thousand years no man so conditioned has ever broken. He is an unbreakably loyal man. And thus we have a character Duke Atreides can trust implicitly, so he can later be stabbed in the back without looking like an incompetent moron.

So now you probably think this is where we set up the dangerous nature of the Baron Harkonnen (greatest enemy of House Atreides), somehow brilliantly finding some mental weakpoint, or maybe inventing a brand new form of mental torture that successfully breaks the conditioning, or something else establishing Baron Harkonnen as a force to be reckoned with. So, how did Baron Harkonnen break the unbreakable man?

He kidnapped his wife. That's it. Didn't even torture her in front of the man, just nabbed her and said "hey do my bidding or I'll kill her!" And the unbreakable man folds like a cheap suit. He doesn't even bother to get proof of life. So in the hundreds or thousands of years these supposedly unbreakable people have been around the secret all along was kidnap their loved ones. No one has ever tried that before? Really?

I need to stress, this is not a misdirect and no other explanation is given. We are genuinely supposed to buy that the doctor is effectively unbreakable, that the Duke is wise and correct to have accepted this at face value, and that kidnapping the doctor's wife was actually the twisted, brilliant treachery it's place in the story would suggest.

It is astoundingly bad plotting that only exists because Frank Herbert couldn't be arsed to give a fuck about the plot of his own book. Even worse, it isn't a hard plot hole to fill with a better betrayal that also made logical sense. For example, Herbert could have written a character that the Duke naturally trusted implicitly, perhaps a brother or close friend, and shown why and how that trust exists. This would make more sense, give the betrayal real emotional weight, and matter in a much more personal way to our protagonist.

But no, that would take effort. Frank Herbert, master of tell don't show, just parades out a character and directly tells the audience that he's 100% totally trustworthy no for realz bro, and then expects us to just go along with the idea that the betrayal was earned and isn't fucking stupid. This is the level Frank Herbert is on.

But anyway greatest sci fi novel ever written, am I right? Winner of both a Hugo and a Nebula!

This is why I hate Dune. Not because it is the worst thing ever, there are even things to like in it, but it is like millions of people collectively decided that Bicentennial Man was the greatest science fiction movie of all time and it won the best film oscar and people are comparing it to the all time greatest films ever made and I'm over here just. Sure, it tries to play with some interesting ideas but it's got structural problems, there are acting issues, the script is poor. There are things to like but it's mid at best! Is everyone in on some collective joke? Am I in the fucking twilight zone?

Now, in the couple of decades since I first read Dune the "best sci fi novel ever" nonsense has pulled back a lot. I don't think I've heard someone make that claim in years. But it can be fun to be a hater, especially when something deserves it.

Edit: I want to make it clear I don't think less of anyone for liking Dune. Dune is probably a great playground for fandom and god knows I don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to my personal favs. I also hear the new movies are good, and nothing about Dune makes me think it couldn't be adapted well.

[anxiousfanchild]

Introduction to My Harry Potter Imagines

Characters I can do:

1890s Hogwarts:

Ominius Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Garrath Weasley

Leander Prewett

Pre-Marauders:

Molly Prewett/Weasley

Bellatrix Black/Lestrange

Rita Skeeter

Arthur Weasley

Andromeda Black/Tonks

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissia Black/Malfoy

Gilderoy Lockhart

Alice Fortescue/Longbottom

Frank Longbottom

Ted Tonks

Marauders:

Sirius Black

Peter Pettigrew

Remus Lupin

James Potter

Lily Evans/Potter

Severus Snape

Bartemius Crouch Jr

Mary MacDonald

Dorcas Meadowes

Regulus Black

Evan Rosier

Pandora Rosier/Lovegood (or Lestrange, IDK what her canon last name is)

Xenophilius Lovegood

Marlene McKinnon

Golden Trio Era:

Harry Potter

Ronald Weasley

Hermione Granger/Weasley

Luna Lovegood/Scalamander

Ginerva Weasley/Potter

Draco Malfoy

Neville Longbottom

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Percy Weasley

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Oliver Wood

Dean Thomas

Seamus Finnigan

Cedric Diggory

Blaise Zabini

Theodore Nott

Post Golden Trio: These stories will take place while each child is in at least 5th year. I've also added their Houses, just in case it is needed.

Victoire Weasley - Ravenclaw (Bill x Fleur)

Fred Weasley - Gryffindor (George x Angelina)

Molly Weasley - Gryffindor (Percy x Aubrey)

Dominique Weasley - Gryffindor (Bill x Fleur)

James Potter - Gryffindor (Ginny x Harry)

Louis Weasley - Ravenclaw (Bill x Fleur)

Lucy Weasley - Ravenclaw (Percy x Aubrey)

Rose Granger-Weasley - Gryffindor (Ron x Hermione)

Albus Potter - Slytherin (Ginny x Harry)

Roxanne Weasley - Gryffindor (Fred x Angelina)

Hugo Granger-Weasley - Gryffindor (Ron x Hermione)

Lily Potter - Gryffindor (Ginny x Harry)

Teddy Lupin - Hufflepuff (Remux x Tonks)

Non-Canon Characters:

Delphini Riddle: Post Golden Trio Era (Teddy's age, possibly a year older). Lovechild of Bellatrix and Voldemort

Mattheo Riddle: Marauders Era, Lovechild of Tom Riddle and an unnamed Witch.

Lorenzo Berkshire: Golden Trio Era

PLEASE NOTE: If there is a non-canon character or a character we as a fandom do not know a lot of canon facts about, I will write them how ***I*** see them!

MASTERLIST

[k-wame]

woz rootin forem

[omandergoodness]

"I feel you holding me,

Tighter I cannot see,

When will we finally breathe?"

[bookclub4m]

35 Non-fiction Graphic Novels by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

Zodiac: A Graphic Memoir by Ai Weiwei with Elettra Stamboulis & Gianluca Costantini

Nat Turner by Kyle Baker

The Talk by Darrin Bell

The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui

I’m a Wild Seed by Sharon Lee De la Cruz

Messy Roots: A Graphic Memoir of a Wuhanese American by Laura Gao

Stamped from the Beginning: A Graphic History of Racist Ideas in America by Joel Christian Gill and Ibram X. Kendi

Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts by Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martinez

The 500 Years of Resistance Comic Book by Gord Hill

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations by Mira Jacob

The American Dream? A Journey on Route 66 Discovering Dinosaur Statues, Muffler Man, and the Perfect Breakfast Burrito: a Graphic Memoir by Shing Yin Khor

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada, and Ko Hyung-Ju

In Limbo by Deb J.J. Lee

This Country: Searching for Home in (Very) Rural America by Navied Mahdavian

Mexikid: A Graphic Memoir by Pedro Martín

Monstrous: A Transracial Adoption Story by Sarah Myer

Steady Rollin': Preacher Kid, Black Punk and Pedaling Papa by Fred Noland

Citizen 13660 by Mine Okubo

Your Black Friend and Other Strangers by Ben Passmore

Kwändǖr by Cole Pauls

Worm: A Cuban American Odyssey by Edel Rodriguez

Power Born of Dreams: My Story is Palestine by Mohammad Sabaaneh

A First Time for Everything by Dan Santat

Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi

Grandmothers, Our Grandmothers: Remembering the "Comfort Women" of World War II by Han Seong-Won

Death Threat by Vivek Shraya and Ness Lee

Palimpsest: Documents From A Korean Adoption by Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom

Big Black: Stand at Attica by Frank "Big Black" Smith, Jared Reinmuth, and Améziane

Victory. Stand!: Raising My Fist for Justice by Tommie Smith, Dawud Anyabwile, and Derrick Barnes

The High Desert by James Spooner

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, and Harmony Becker

Feelings by Manjit Thapp

The Black Panther Party: A Graphic Novel History by David F. Walker and Marcus Kwame Anderson

Now Let Me Fly: A Portrait of Eugene Bullard by Ronald Wimberly and Braham Revel

[journeydownthequeer]

How to make you notice, every now and then.

Notice, a Frank x Hugo (The Nevers) vid

(special thanks to @frankmundi for providing screen recordings of the missing 1b footage)

[munchbuddi]

Spent most of my day making a roster for a hypothetical Marvel vs. Capcom game where none of the playable characters from any of the other games in the series are allowed on the roster. So like, no returning characters at ALL. A fun lil exercise.

25 characters from each Marvel and Capcom, and honestly isn't as awful as I would have expected (but would still be the worst MvC roster, lol)

(The cast isn't imbalanced, I just have Reed and Sue as a single character, where Reed does the main attacks, and Sue comes out for Blocks/Grabs and some other animations. I played too much Mortal Kombat as a youth to let an invisible character exist on the roster. PLUS, combining Reed and Sue let's you make a 3v3 team with the whole Fantastic Four, which is cool)

my main takeaways are that:

MvC has already used most of the good villains from both companies. (and the remaining villains are either very passive trickster types, or too massive and cosmic to exist as a fighting game character outside of a boss fight)

It's fucked up trying to make a roster for an MvC game when basically all the Avengers and Street Fighters are off the table. I ALSO did not want LUKE as the main SF protagonist representation, but he's definitely the closest to a "main Street Fighter character" that hasn't already been used in MvC.

A lot of the popular Marvel heroes that are not already a part of MvC are fucking LAMEEEEEEEEE. I don't care how obscure we have to get, I'm not putting fucking Namor and Ant-Man on my fucking fighting game roster.

It was really hard to narrow down the Street Fighter cast, but I feel pretty good with Hugo as our big body grappler and 3rd Strike rep, and then having Juri from 4 and Rashid from 5. I like these Street Fighters a lot.

The fact that MvC hasn't had Punisher, Fury, Luke Cage, Daredevil, the Fantastic Four, Nightcrawler or honestly just a LOT of these characters on their rosters yet is a lil mind blowing. I like these characters, I think they rule. ALSO FUCKING BLADEEEEEE. I think Capcom hates money.

Capcom has a lotta good fighting game rosters that have never popped up in an MvC game as well. The designs for the Red Earth cast, as well as the casts for Rival Schools and Power Stone are fun as hell. Also, Picking Darkstalkers representatives is hard as hell, because despite MvC already using like, half the DS characters in other MvC titles, the remaining half of the DS roster ALSO kicks ass.

It was really hard to find enough Marvel characters I liked to keep up with how many Capcom characters I wanted to add, forcing a few heart breaking cuts on the Capcom side. I would've really wanted another Rival Schools/PJ character, Victor (or honestly any other remaining DS character), Saki (using her TvC moves), as well as one of several SF characters. Ultimately I couldn't really add more to the Capcom side without having to start adding some real duds to the Marvel side (like fucking Namor)

No Dead Rising characters because all their characters outside of Frank suck ASSSSSS. I do not like Chuck. I almost cut Ace Attorney as a series as well because I had a hard time imagining a character who would work as well as Phoenix and Maya. Ultimately I thought having Ryunosuke and Herlock (who would unintentionally attack people while showboating) felt like the best option. (Although Franziska would have been fun too, or an Apollo & friends character)

Mr. X, Birkin, Lady D, Saddler, and Salazar are nowhere as cool as Nemesis and Wesker (I kinda like Berkin mutation #2, but 🤷🤷). Ultimately I could not think of another RE character that fit the roster as well. I thought about having Leon as a gun mcshooty like Chris, and then having Rebecca or Claire with a missiles/zombie summoning moveset like Jill in MvC2, but that felt like a copout to just have MvC2 Jill again. +Although I kinda still like the idea of Rebecca with a healing support assist type thing, since she's a medic.) Ultimately I just went with Leon as the lone rep (with Regina acting as a second survival horror representative character, summoning Dinos the way MvC2 Jill does with Zombies)

Gene Godhand is finally on the roster (as he always should have been) as the sole representative for all the Clover Games, since Amatarasu and Viewtiful Joe were already used. If you haven't played God Hand, please do, it is very good.

I could not imagine good enough movesets for JJ Jameson and Edgeworth to justify adding them, despite thinking they are both very funny. I also cut Moon Girl because I didn't wanna imagine any of these characters beating the shit outta a lil girl, no matter how smart she is or how kick ass her dinosaur is. Also couldn't think of how Xavier would fight, since even whenever he does take a rare combat role, it's all telepathic tricks and such. Same with Mystique.

Also, no Red Skull because his ass is just a nazi, and I didn't want to imagine any of these characters collaborating with his nasty ass. Which is a shame because he would definitely be a much needed additional villain, and I think he could have a funny moveset of constantly summoning goons like his fellow fighting game nazi Parasol who summons her egrets.

Black Cat, JJ, Kingpin, Kraven, Spider Gwen, and honestly every member of the Sinister Six because I did not want the whole Marvel cast to be "Oops, All Spiderman". Spiderman really has a monopoly on all the great marvel villains who aren't either cosmic level deities or X-Men villains.

Some characters just don't feel right without their counterparts. Like, I feel like adding Red Hulk without Hulk would be a bit fucked up. Or Hercules without Thor. JJ without Peter Parker. Killmonger without Black Panther. Franziska or Edgeworth without Phoenix. Ya know?

I thought about adding The Arisen and a Pawn from Dragon's Dogma, but I don't know how interesting the moveset could be. Also, the main feature I always think about from the DD games is climbing like a jackass on all the enemies, and I cannot think of a way to add that to a fighting game that wouldn't be miserable.

lastly, some characters were totally chill to add, but went against the SPIRIT of the exercise. Stuff like Evil Ryu, Violent Ken, Captain Carter, Red Hulk and Carnage (who are both way too close to the secret characters Orange Hulk and Red Venom), Zero (from the Mega Man Zero series, as opposed to Zero from the Mega Man X series, even though I really think Zero from MMZero is very cool in SvC Chaos), the very cool and mysterious Paper Bag Man, and the 10000 cases of "character takes up a mantle that used to belong to a other person". Obviously I ended up making exceptions to this thought process for Miles, Gwenpool, and MegaMan Volnutt, but I honestly think these characters would end up having different enough movesets to differentiate themselves from Spidey, Deadpool, and Rock or X. (and also I just really like them so boo hoo)

Ultimately, I think this would be a pretty terrible roster when compared to the other MvC titles, but it was a fun thing to think about. Thank you for reading all this if ya did read it, lol.