Ho Dear

Ho Dear

The principal difficulty, as I see it, in penning a compelling and captivating erotic scene featuring Hodor is that there are only so many ways one can reliably relate the varying stages of Hodor’s ecstasy via dialogue. To wit:

“Hodor?” Hodor asked, unsure what was being requested of him by the drunken Imp and his Dire Wolf.

“Hodor”, Hodor assented as he let the Dire Wolf pin him down.

“Hodor!” Hodor exclaimed, taking the brunt of the meaty intrusion.

“Hodor… HODOR!” Hodor screeched, as he experienced a visceral chill thanks to Dire Wolf’s tongue.

Hodor…” Hodor whimpered, weak and yet wanting more.

“_Hodor_” Hodor said flatly, denying Jon Snow his sloppy seconds.

I’m sure there are others who would be quite capable of verbally expressing the depth and magnitude of his amorous explosion, but alas, such is beyond me.

Paisley P. Peinforte

About Paisley P. Peinforte

Having successfully invaded both America and Canada from her home base in Windsor, Paisley has become horribly corrupted by the world. She hates active voice and wishes to god Twitter had an edit button. Dedicated to "creating the greatest 'Ship of them all", she ponders horribly terrible, idiotic things for your amusement.


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~explanation~

I'm a snarky, semi-horrible human being given to penning intentionally bad epic slashfiction involving improbable objects and individuals, with the ultimate ambition of befouling Kindle with it one day,which is ostensibly what this blog is for.

In practice, however, it tends to mainly be a circular file for my various thoughts and ideas, some whimsical and others not, in addition to my various Photoshop experiments, mainly collections of what I generate for Twitter.