#Also Aristocrats Fun
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patovpran · 8 months ago
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Not liking Colin is fine whatever you do you tastes differ but hating him because he's jobless is objectively hilarious
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chaiichait · 11 months ago
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There are obvious differences between the humans and the faerie, like their features. Faerie have slimmer more stick like bodies, more sharp ethereal features, animal body parts, and obviously their sharp tipped ears. While humans have softer features, round ears, with plumper curvier bodies and shorter heights. But these differences are showed futher by the way they speak.
Faerie are more inclined to play into figurative language and use more prose like, baroque sentences. This is probably due to their weakness of tongue, the fact that they cannot tell lies. Humans on the other hand speak more modernly, similar to us. Even humans that have lived on faerie in a long time still have some remnants of their former dialect. Take Jude for example, she is often direct and doesn't have as much filler words compared to faerie. Cardan speaks in a more languished fanciful manner, whose word choices often make Jude addled. It really plays up to their differences and I love how subtle it is that the characters speak differently to one another.
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starpros-sunshine · 2 years ago
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seb. seb bard wataru and secluded noble eichi as their cnstars exclusive cards au
!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes yes yes yes yes Ohhh I can see it I can see it
I'm gonna put this under read more because this could get longer
Wataru as a traveling bard and Eichi is a noble that lives a kind of isolated life dur to his weak constitution and Wataru comes by Eichis castle or mansion or chateau or whatever fancy piece of architecture he occupies and Eichi hears Watarus music and comes to the window and they have a moment of eye contact and initially Wataru doesn't think much of it and travels further after he played a few more pieces for Eichi -because of course if the audience enjoys it then the entertainer shall entertain for that is his job - and so after that little private concert is over he travels further. His eay leads him this small town that's not so far from the fancy piece of architecture, because I like to be a little cliché, and there he hears all sorts of rumours about the mysterious nobles that live in the...I'll just call it a mansion now it's a chateau-adjacent mansion. Any ways those rumours catch his intrigue and he decides to stay in the town a little and he stays at an inn maybe and he pays him rent by playing music for them in the evenings,,,
Oh and maybe this is where he runs into Yuzuru! He's on the street just observing and he sees this elegant and very pretty looking young man and he doesn't look like someone from the town but he also doesn't have the air of an aristocrat about him and he catches some older women gossipping about him and apparently he's a domestic servant of the strange nobles that everyone seems to be a little scared of because they never seem to show their face anywhere.
Maybe he tries to strike up a conversation with Yuzuru or maybe that process repeats multiple times but eventually he decides to snoop around the Mansion a little and maybe he runs into Eichi again,,,
And maybe he gives him a few more private concerts or magic performances I reckon he does those too and the intrigue grows and grows and by now the people in the town know Wataru by name and sometimes he gets free food gifted by them and they're still a little wary of him because he just appeared one day and nobody knows where this strange man with his birds and his heavenly voice came from but he seems to be nice so they come to like him.
And Yuzuru picks up some of the rumours about this strange bard that pays his room at the local inn by playing songs for the patrons in the evenings and sometimes helps out the elderly i the town and he notices he's seen this man before playing music outside of their house so of course he mentions these rumours to Eichi and Tori who in turn are intrigued and a little sceptic respectively.
When Wataru appears the at Eichis balcony the next time Eichi actually initiates a conversation with Wataru and that continues over the next few visits as well and eventually they go from "Bard" and "My Lord" to "Wataru" and "Eichi" or still "My Lord" but this is different though it's the same as when Wataru calls Eichi emperor it's more teasing than a formality you have to imagine a grin in his voice as he says that. Tori and Yuzuru have no idea about most of these visits because half of them are in the middle of the night (I imagine it a little like the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet right right).
And so they grow closer and as the time passes Wataru starts to actually settle a little in the town. The room he was renting at the inn is pretty much actually his room now, he could've moved out but he lives on a good deal and the older couple that runs the inn treat him like their own son now (he doens't even have to do shows every evening anymore, just sometimes a week) and pretty much all of the regulars know him personally now and on a first name basis (nobody actually knows his last name). This is the first time in forever he's stayed at one place for this long and it's all just because he has taken a liking to this feeble-ish blonde aristocrat that looks at him like he hung all the stars in the sky up by himself.
He still only knows Tori by hearsay and Yuzuru just briefly - somehow they never ran into each other when he was there during the day - But Eichi has joked about introducing them properly before.
in my mind there's this one specific image of Eichi and Wataru standing on his Balcony and they are both on opposite sides of the railing and it's the middle of the night and it's chilly so Eichi has his blanket draped over his shoulders because that's the sensible thing to do when it's cold and Wataru is standing on the opposide side of the railing, kind of standing on the edge of it and leaning more over the railing into the space of the balcony where you actually stand on and they are being disgusting in the way that they're flirting and maybe they also kiss a little,,, maybe,,,, because I want them to,,,,
And sweet innocent Yuzuru only hears about things between Eichi and Wataru via the rumour mill when he goes to run errands on the market and hears that the bard from the inn has been seen in the evening multiple times as he's walking the path to the mansion of the nobles nobody really knows. And he hasn't been back until the early hours of the morning. And so Yuzuru tells this to Tori. And they're both too awkward to ask him straight out so whenever they hear Eichi humming a tune while he does... whatever it is rich people do. They just look at each other and the question is in the room but nobody knows how to break it and they come to just. the weirdest conclusions because nobody in this house communicates like a normal person.
And maybe sometimes Eichi sneaks out to visit Wataru in the town (the first time this happened he put on a really big hood and changes his voice a little so it would be harder to recognise and actually caught Wataru off-guard for once). Watarus birds like him too...at least most of them do.
I like to think he once had to explain to Tori why he smells like bird and it was suuuper awkward because there aren't a lot of ways to talk yourself around having to explain that the night before you were basically turned into a pigeon nest and it took you and your bard-kind-of-boyfriend-but-also-not-really-but-you-have-something-going-on-you-just-don't-really-know-what-to-call-it-because-that-topic-has-been-successfully-avoided spent a good 20 minutes trying to get all the feathers out of your hair and clothes. Tori didn't buy his excuse but it made so little sense that he doesn't really think he wants to know either so he choses to live in ignorance for once. (when he does meet Wataru he remembers this and suddenly it all makes sense because Wataru also smells like birds. He choses living in ignorance was good while it lasted.)
After some more time of being acquainted with Wataru Eichi and Tori decide to also show their faces in the town for once and both parties have to warm up to each other and it's a little off for all involved (Wataru and Yuzuru are the only people who actually know both sides personally) but with the time the general unease regarding the secluded nobles ebbs out a little. There's still people who don't like them but it's civil still because they like Yuzuru and while they think Wataru is a bit strange they have come to like him as well and why provoke unneccessary comflict when you can just decide not to interact with those people.
I could talk sooooo much more but I don't think anyone actually wants to read this much or cares for it so I will try to stop now but just. Eichi bringing the traveling bard Wataru to settle down and "tying him down to humanity" by keeping in one place and Ohhhhhhh you can even have something EP:Link-esque in this like. Eichi is convinced Wataru will leave him eventually because he's a free spirit and tying him down would be unfair or impossible or something and Wataru gives him...I dob't know maybe not a mask but his instrument or something maybe a mask works too because he would probably still be a bard the man has to make a living somehow but symbolically the instrument would work better. But yes and he gives that to him and tells him "this is me and I offer this to you" and Eichi still doesn't get it so at their next redezvous it's like. the second part of that converstation where Eichi had to accept that Wataru wanting to stay is the only logical explanation left and he has to accept that and ooooh there's layers to this there is actually layers to this I'm so,,,,,hehehehehe,,,,laughing ecstatically and clapping my hands,,,,
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3cosmicfrogs · 1 year ago
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ok so i may or may not be spiralling (unrelated) but i spent the entire 1/2 of my weekend so far on an all-consuming deep-dive about chinese historical swords. this will have implications for my future fanart.
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lafcadiosadventures · 1 year ago
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Marx 🤝 Hugo on Balzac
Marx: “The realism I allude to may crop out even in spite of the author’s opinions. (…) Balzac was politically a Legitimist; his great work is a constant elegy on the inevitable decay of good society, his sympathies are all with the class doomed to extinction. But for all that his satire is never keener, his irony never bitterer, than when he sets in motion the very men and women with whom he sympathizes most deeply - the nobles. And the only men of whom he always speaks with undisguised admiration, are his bitterest political antagonists, the republican heroes of the Cloître Saint-Méry*, the men, who at that time (1830-6) were indeed the representatives of the popular masses. That Balzac thus was compelled to go against his own class sympathies and political prejudices, that he saw the necessity of the downfall of his favourite nobles, and described them as people deserving no better fate; and that he saw the real men of the future where, for the time being, they alone were to be found - that I consider one of the greatest triumphs of Realism, and one of the grandest features in old Balzac.” Karl Marx letter to Harkness, April 1888.
Hugo: “Unknown to himself, whether he wished it or not, whether he consented or not, the author of this immense and strange work is one of the strong race of Revolutionist writers. Balzac goes straight to the goal(...) by grace of his free and vigorous nature; by a privilege of the intellect of our time, which, having seen revolutions face to face, can see more clearly the destiny of humanity and comprehend Providence better,- Balzac redeemed himself smiling and severe from all those formidable studies which produced melancholy in Moliere and misanthropy in Rousseau.” Hugo’s Eulogy for Balzac from J. Berg Esenwein and Dale Carnagey’s the art of public speaking.
*marx could be thinking of Michel Chrestien, portrayed as the honorable alternative to Lucien de Rubempré, who dies a hero in 1832 at saint-mery (but balzac makes him fall in love with a princess because. of course he does)(i have not read all of balzac’s novels so i’m not sure if he has more revolutionary heroes, since marx claims he is “always” speaking in positive terms of them)
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myplasticadversary · 2 years ago
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Still ruminating on the GKU (girl Kendall universe) and Logan trying to drive a wedge between Roman and the girls in the house early on but also maybe a form of Dog Pound does still happen as he's encouraging Kendall to be commanding and oppressive of her inferiors, and Roman is in a grey spot where he's technically above her in the hierarchy and gets more grace than in canon but he still needs to be brought in line, and since Caroline's not interested in that job Logan considers Kendall to be his partner in that. Of course the problem as usual comes from Roman learning the "wrong lesson" from how he's treated.
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i-like-loserz · 12 days ago
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honey, baby
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synopsis: san needs your attention
pairing: husband!san x afab!reader
warnings: SMUT (18+), jealousy, handjob, begging, teasing, sub!san, dacryphilia, pet-names, house-wife!reader, messy endings, light marking kink, reader does not get off..., not proof-read :0
word count: 2.5k
note: i'm sorry, we all need some sub!san in our lives... right...
masterlist
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How delicate his hand is, adorned handsomely with understated rings, pressing gently against the small of your back as he leads you through the room. Artificial chatter, decorated with an occasional bout of posh laughter, settles finely above the jazz playing in the background. 
Your heels click softly against the marble flooring, each step lining up perfectly with his. 
Together, you’re a vision of excellence. 
San is the man that everyone wants. The definition of a gentleman. He’s charming, polite, and patient. But also unbelievably beautiful. He comes from a background of old money, but his legacy never stopped him from looking elsewhere for love.
Then there’s you. A woman who can blend into any crowd, disarming even the most stuck-up aristocrat with an easy smile. No one knows where you came from, but they don’t really care – or rather, they stopped caring once they realized how easily San would drop them for bothering you. 
The two of you act as the personification of refined love. 
Modest, refined, and lovely. Rarely sharing even a single kiss in front of an audience. 
San nods to a few guests as he passes them, politely acknowledging their existence, but never making a move to engage with them. He exudes this aura of cool confidence – as if every breath he takes is calculated and perfected. This way, no one ever questions his decisions or fights his whims…not like you anyway.
The wine glass in your hand has a bare sip of red left in it. The rim is spotted with the seductive print of your lips, reflecting the small tastes you took throughout the night to keep yourself relatively sober.
You would have gone for another but a heated whisper, pressed exquisitely against the edge of your ear, drew away any thoughts of humoring your husband’s guests. You settle it gently on a counter, no longer needing the prop of a hostess. 
San’s leading hand presses more insistently against back with each step he takes. His breaths grow deeper, his body draws closer. 
Usually, he’s able to wait until the party ends – watching you with dark eyes as you see the last of the crowd off, thanking them for visiting with that polite smile you’ve perfected. You’re so good to him, putting up with the lifestyle he was born into and taking the role of the perfect housewife and hostess that pays attention to every need her guests have.  
But now, San needs your attention to be directed at him. 
He broke while you were in the middle of a conversation with somebody’s plus one. And San knows he was a plus one because he didn’t recognize the man…or his name…or his “successful tech” company. 
He’s not usually a jealous man, but something about this guy…
San was sitting next to you, charming yet another investor of his father’s business, when he heard a low voice speaking to his beautiful wife, “Please, call me Yunho, Mr. Jeong is my father.” 
It peeved him.
You laughed politely, displaying your easy going nature by complying with his wish, repeating his first name before offering your own. San bristled at the sound of another man’s name coming from your lips. 
Who even is this guy? 
There were no Jeongs on the guestlist – and he would know, he’s the one who checks off on that stuff. This is a business party, not some get together that can be crashed so unpleasantly by an overnight millionaire like him.
The investor he was once trying to woo was getting pulled into a different conversation. And thank god for that. He wouldn’t have been much fun to talk to when he’s distracted like this anyway. 
San took that as an opportunity to turn his body toward yours. He watched intently as you continued your friendly interaction with a handsome stranger – who seems to be leaning closer with every pretty word you speak. 
You looked effortlessly beautiful as you rambled about the recent trip he took you on, excitedly describing your favorite restaurants with that familiar brightness in your eyes. He’s suddenly longing to hold your hand right then and there, to pull you onto his lap and nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck. 
His hand moved before he could think about it, gently brushing over your forearm to get your attention. When you turned to look at your husband, the man in front of you retreated from his slow shift into your space, suddenly uneasy by how San was staring him down. 
“Honey?”
At the sound of your voice, he shifted his attention from the offending man to you, the tension in his shoulders easing at the affectionate pet-name. San rounded his eyes innocently, softening his expression. 
“Baby…” He said timidly in a bare whisper, fully knowing that that name was strictly off-limits in public. You raise a questioning eyebrow, wondering what made your husband so needy all of the sudden.
“San.”
San leaned closer to you, a hand slowly shifting from the velvet couch to the top of your thigh. The guests continued to bustle around the two of you, unaware of the sudden tension settling between you. You let him push closer until his lips barely brush against ear.
“Pay attention to me…”
You’ve never left your own party early. You have actually trained yourself to have the same amount of energy greeting the guests as you do leading them out. The party doesn't end until you've seen everyone out.
So will anyone really notice a scant 15 minutes of your absence?
Well, you hope not. 
San couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. Instead, he pulled you into an oversized laundry room at the end of the hall, sliding the door shut before you could protest about being too close to the party.
“Sannie, wait.” 
Your words are lost to the air. 
He’s already pressing desperate, hot kisses against your throat. His broad body effectively pins you to the door as his hands, itching to undress you, drag over your soft curves covered by the fine fabric of your dress. Eager fingers grope over your tits before settling delicately around the base of your neck.
His suit jacket rests in a heap on the floor, leaving him in his unbuttoned vest and wrinkled dress shirt – a view you’d love to devour if not for the people who stand on the other side of the door. 
“Maybe we should stop –” 
“I can’t, I-I need you, baby.” He’s begging you – each word pathetically whined out from his pouty lips. “Need you close to me.”
“What if they notice that we’re both gone? What if they come looking?”
Pitiful moans are pressed onto your skin as he helplessly grasps at your body, scared that you’d leave him wanting and overwhelmed by his need to feel you against him.
At this point, San wouldn’t care if the whole party saw him fucking you against the dining table – least of all that Yunho guy. He doesn’t care if they can hear him whining for you, begging you to let him fill you up like he does every night. He wants to show you off, hold open your cum soaked thighs just to show them that you love him and he’s your good boy. 
But at the same time, letting anyone see you like that irks him like nothing else. You’re his and he’s yours.
“Please.” He implores, eyes glistening with a needy look. He gently takes your hand and leads it to where he needs you the most. You give in easily, pressing against his cock which strains against his perfectly tailored trousers. He’s already throbbing from the faint sensation of your touch. 
“Please…?” You tease under your breath, now fully gripping the shape of him through the layers of his clothes. He watches the way your hand moves over him with a dazed look, appreciating the way your small hand looks, fisting his clothed cock with glazed eyes.
You squeeze him abruptly, nudging him for an answer and he responds with a surprised whine, his hips jerking up against you from the intense sensation.  
“Please t-touch me.” 
“I am, baby.”
His dark eyebrows pinch in frustration, “You know what I mean.”
You hum understandingly, slowly unzipping his pants as you taunt him.
“You’re so needy…” 
He sighs as you pull down his briefs along with the restricting fabric of his pants. His thick cock slaps against his covered stomach, flushed prettily in a deep shade of pink, gently weeping pre-cum at the tip. Everything about San is pretty – especially the enamoured way he stares down at you with his signature pouty lips and flushed cheeks.
Eyes locked with his, you idly run a finger against his bare hip, so close to where he wants you to touch. He stutters out a shaky breath, his body shivering from the delicate sensation.
“K-kiss me.” He cups your jaw and moves impossibly closer to you. Your chest meets his as he holds you close, his hips pressing his hard cock against your body. He dips down to hover his soft lips over yours, “...Please.” He adds in a whisper – drenched in desperation. 
As if you could ever deny him.
“You’re cute…” You whisper back before pressing your lips onto his. 
You feel him immediately melt against you, his cock twitching eagerly against your stomach as he finally tastes you on his tongue. You hope he doesn't notice how you subtly rub your thighs together, an attempt to relieve the ache between them.
Your hands drift from resting on his chest to tangle in his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless whine that you adore. 
As you draw away for a breath, you notice a smear of red messily decorating his lips. He doesn’t seem to care though, looking down at a similar mess on your lips with a heated gaze.
You can tell that he’s imagining the same stain at the base of his cock. San has a thing for marks, especially because it’s you who’s leaving them. 
You lift up his dress shirt before pressing the palm of your hand against his aching erection, drawing a cute whimper from him. His stomach flexes from the sudden coolness of the air touching his heated skin.
Oh, how you want to lick over each defined ab, make him cry out from your teasing before biting into the firmness of his stupidly broad chest – but you don’t have time for that right now.
“Look at you,” You wrap your hand around him and slowly start to jerk him off, “almost about to cum from some kissing.” San bites his bottom lip to keep his moans down as your thumb repeatedly rubs over the edge of his sensitive tip. 
“C-can’t help it, you taste s-so good.” His hips thrust eagerly against your hand, cock generously leaking as he feels himself already approaching the edge.
Your wrist moves in quick, practiced motions, slick noises filling the space between you. You can't help but dip your other hand under his dress shirt, feeling up his perfect body with the edge of your nails to make him tremble.
“I'll let you taste more tonight if you cum for me like a good boy."
San nods eagerly, but you can tell by that hazy look in his eye that he'd agree to jump off from the second floor balcony if you asked him.
You can tell that he's getting close by the way he's bucking into your slippery fist, whines growing louder and more desperate. It almost looks like he's about to cry as he stares down at the way your hand is wrapped so perfectly around his throbbing cock.
“About to c-cum,” he pants, eyes glistening sweetly. "F-ffuck, baby… Y-you’re s-so good to me. Don’t want it to get on you, though, and ruin your pretty dress.”
"No?" You tease as you watch him struggle to move a mere inch away, hips still thrusting in want. How cute. His eyes squeeze shut at your honeyed tone, knowing you were going to make it harder for him to back away. "You don't want to see me covered in your pretty mess?"
"Nnghh~" You watch him scramble to hold off his orgasm, legs shaking as his hands grip your waist tightly to ground himself. "please -- !"
You finally let him make some space between you, finding it adorable that even in this state, he's worried about protecting you from the people outside.
You give him one last squeeze, fingers brushing over his dripping tip before whispering: "Okay, baby~ Cum for me."
And he does. Oh, how he makes a mess of himself.
His broad shoulders shake as he curls his body into himself, head dipped while spilling out the most pathetic breathy whines against the top of your shoulder.
His hips shake sporadically as each rope of cum covers your hand, dripping miraculously over his lap and onto his once perfectly-pressed pants. Somehow, he stayed true to his word. Not a drop touched your dress.
"Good boy..."
He groans as you milk him with a tight fist, body shuddering from the overstimulation. Your other hand soothes him, rubbing gently over his stomach as he moves through his high.
---
San's panting, leaning against the washing machine with a fucked-out look on his face. He pulled his briefs back on, opting to leave the pants unbuttoned and barely hanging onto his hips.
At this point, it would be better for him to change – his pants are stained with drops of cum, his shirt is wrinkled and stretched out, his hair has been fluffed into a mess. 
Maybe you should just tell everyone that he wasn’t feeling well…
You press a light peck to the side of his flushed neck before moving away from him in a hurry. You wash your hands in the small sink at the corner of the room and find a few tissues to take off your ruined lipstick and any residual sweat. 
You try to fix your hair to look decent – though there is no mirror to really check – and smooth out your dress. Thankfully, San only made a mess of himself (at least, visually). You were planning to slip into a bathroom on the way to the parlor anyway. 
“Ok, baby.” You throw the tissues away before turning back to your husband. His eyes are still half-lidded with lust, watching how easily you go back to being the refined woman from earlier this evening. “Clean yourself up, I’m going back out. I’ll tell them you’re feeling under the weather.” 
“You’re so beautiful.” His raspy voice is endearing. 
You feel your cheeks heating up at the compliment. You try to stamp it down, try to stay composed, but he always knows what to say to make you feel this way. 
“You are beautiful, baby.” You respond with a gentle smile, walking back to him to give him one last kiss. One turns into many. He shyly smiles back, his dimples deepening as you scatter more kisses around his face.
“Wish me luck out there.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair to reduce the fluffiness. 
“Come back to me soon, okay?”
“Anything for you, my love.”
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xreaderanonaccount · 1 year ago
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So Warm and Fluffy
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Synopsis: Harbinger men (minus Pucinella) with an S/O who wears their Fatui coat.
Characters: Pierro, Capitone, Dottore, Pantalone, Childe
Tags; Suggestive on Childe
A/N: Gawd, I need more lore on all the harbingers. I need MORE. I also lowkey didn't know what to write for Panatalone, which sucks cause I absolutely love this man.
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The party was a bore, you couldn’t help but let out a bored sigh. Pierro seemed to immediately notice this and placed a gentle hand on the bottom of your back.
“Is everything okay my dear?” Pierro whispered into your ear, you leaned against his shoulder and sighed.
“This place is a bore and there’s nothing fun.” Pierro hummed in agreement as he stared distantly towards the crowd. There was a small crowd of aristocrats huddled around you two hoping to earn a favor from the Tsaritsa. You just sighed again before looking at the giant door that beckoned you toward them.
“Dear, I’m going to walk around a bit. Is that okay?” You asked, tilting your head towards him. Pierro closed his eyes and gave a soft nod.
“Make sure you bring a scout.” Pierro sighed as he turned back to a conversation an aristocrat was trying to make. You smiled to yourself before beckoning a nearby scout to follow you. You were very lucky that the party was hosted in one of the many Fatui’s castles, even more lucky that this just so happens to be Pierro’s. You and the scout silently walked down the empty hall, your shoes echoed around before stopping by a familiar door. You smiled as you fished in your pockets, pulling out a small key. You gently placed the key inside the keyhole before turning it. With a soft click the door opened revealing a huge office. You knew this office quite well as this was Pierro’s main office. You walked towards the giant desk smiling as you picked up a small picture of you and Pierro. You gently placed the picture back down before walking around the office. Staring out the window you sighed happily staring down the garden that Pierro planted for you. You were so lost in thought, staring at the snowflakes that slowly drifted down, that you didn’t feel the soft click of the door open. You smiled to yourself thinking about the nice stroll you and Pierro took earlier in the morning. You suddenly felt warm, when you felt a soft coat gently placed on your shoulder. 
“You’ll get cold if you stay still like that.” Pierro murmured against your ear, planting a soft kiss against your cheek. His mask slightly biting your skin. You giggled as you turned to face Pierro. 
“Well if I do get cold you’ll somehow keep me warm right?” You smiled as you placed your hand right where his heart lay. Pierro deeply chuckled as he cupped your hand as you planted a soft kiss on your wrist.
“Of course, my dear.” 
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Capitano grunted as he attacked the dummies with his giant claymore. You stared unapologetically at Capitano’s abs, muscle, anything your eyes looked around. You sighed dreamily as Capitano's muscles moved and contracted with each swing. You two were in the lobby of Goth Grand Hotel which Lord Regrator generously booked… forever. Capitano swung his claymore, slicing the dummies in half. Capitano huffed and puffed as he circled his shoulders. Loosening the tension in his shoulder. You clapped at Capitano’s display,
“You look so good Darling.” You smiled as you slouched against the plush lobby couch. Capitano gave out a hearty laugh before walking over to get a drink from his cup. 
“Thank you my love.” He laughed as he lifted his helmet slightly for him to wipe his sweat. You hummed as you looked around the lobby of the Goth Grand Hotel. It was quite fancy, true to Mondstadt architecture the arcs curved beautifully with etched designs watching over you two. The soft light emitting from the crystal chandelier shone upon you. Your eyes drift before you spot Capitano’s Harbinger coat. He didn’t wear it as Mondstadt’s weather didn’t deemed it cold enough for him to wear it. You traced your hand over the details of the Harbingers coat. Whoever designed it clearly had a good sense of fashion. You smiled as you pulled the heavy coat towards you. Capitano’s smell filled your senses as you took in a deep breath, allowing his scent to fill your lungs. You couldn’t help but sigh as you got comfortable on the lobby couch. You watched Capitano continue his training, his sleeveless turtleneck hug his muscles so well. Capitano swung his claymore making eye contact with you who was snug underneath his harbinger coat.
“Comfortable?” Capitano asked, hoisting his claymore over his shoulder. You nodded as you pulled the black fur close to your face.
“Your jacket is very comfortable.”  You smiled as you adjusted your position, Capitano laughed as he turned back to his dummies.
“Well then I'll ask Pantalone about getting you a custom one." You can hear Capitano smile as he slashed at the nearest dummy. You couldn't help but laugh,
"That would be nice wouldn't it?"
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You shivered inside Dottore’s lab. Your lover is a mad man so of course he loves to have his lab ac on in an already really cold nation. You are already wearing thick layers but the cold keeps biting your skin. 
“Can we please turn the heater on?” You asked, but it seemed the question fell on deaf ears. As none of the segments seemed to hear you, they were too busy arguing with something that you couldn’t understand. You frowned slightly as the cold got to you. You got up and started to pace around the lab trying to warm yourself up. It was slightly working if it wasn’t for the fact that every other step you were taking you were bumping into one of the many segments. You always apologize and move out of the way. You did a couple more laps before you were stopped by Omega who just gave a small smile.
“Darling dearest, I believe you’re getting in the way. How about staying in Prime’s office till he returns?” He asked, not even waiting for your answer before guiding you towards Dottore’s office. You tried to protest but it seemed that protest didn’t reach Omega who just opened the office door and gently pushed you in.
“I’ll ask Delta to bring you something to eat, just stay put okay?” Omega gave you a smile before closing the door with a soft click. You sighed in frustration as you waltz around Dottore’s office. It looked off putting for some people, but you thought it was just his weird hobby. The assortment of body parts in jars, taxidermy animals, different types of ruin guards splattered around. It was a mess but a weird organized mess. You walked around his desk sitting down on his plush chair. Still freezing cold, you looked around the office spotting a small closet in the corner. Smiling, you got up and walked towards the door. Maybe Dottore at least will have a lab coat or something for you to wear. Opening the wooden doors, they gave a soft groan as you peered inside. The closet was mainly empty except for one item, his Fatui harbinger coat. You smiled to yourself as you ran your hand through the fabric. It was so soft under your hand, the soft metal clanked against each other as you cupped the teal crystal. You admired the crystal in your hands as it sparkled in the light. You gently took the coat off the hanger and put it on. The warmth instantly engulfs you, along with his scent. You smiled to yourself as you walked back towards his desk chair. You plopped down back on the plush chair, wiggling a bit, getting yourself comfortable on the plush chair. Finally comfortable in the severe cold lab you nuzzled your head against the black fur. The thick winter coat made you instantly feel warm. As you enjoy the deserved warmth you feel your eyes becoming droopy. Sleep lures you in as you close your eyes, the warmth, dottore’s cologne, and the comfort of being close to the segments. It seemed that you lost the battle as sleep took over slouching against the desk chair.
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Dottore walked into the lab to the buzzing sounds and movements. He rolled his shoulder as he put on his white lab jacket. Before he could get to his experiment table he was stopped by Delta who handed him a report.
“Here is that report you wanted,” Delta nodded as Dottore took it out of his hands. He flipped through the pages pleased by the results.
“Good, get back to work.” Dottore threw the report back to Delta’s arms, who just nodded. But before he was able to get back to work Delta told him about your state and how cold you were. Dottore rolled his eyes as he knew you would be cold and asked what they did about it. Delta mentioned that you paced around a bit before being put into his office. Dottore was curious about what you had gotten up to in his office. Dismissing Delta, Dottore headed to his office giving soft raps against his own office door. He thought this was silly but he rather you not throw something at him then be startled for a bit. When he didn’t hear a response he opened the door, only to be greeted by you snuggled up in his fatui harbinger coat sleeping on his office chair. Dottore smirked as he walked over to you, watching your sleeping form. Oh how naive you are to let your guard down, if you were anyone else he would have stuck so many different types of needles into you. Draw some blood samples, screw it, why not inject you with a mind altering drug? But lucky for you, you were his darling dearest, and he could never hurt you. He smiled to himself before tilting his mask up just enough for him to plant a kiss on top of your head without it poking your head. With a very rare and out of character soft smile Dottore turned back and headed to work. At least he doesn’t have to hear you complain about the cold.
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You and Pantalone walked down Snezhnaya’s greenhouse, a greenhouse that was owned by the Fatui for the public to see ecosystems from different regions. Hand in hand you walked down as you listened to a guide explain each plant from different regions. You smile as you listen to the guide, you would glance back at Pantalone who would always smile at you but you knew for a fact that he was bored out of his mind. He got particularly bored during the Liyue region, you didn’t care, you were just happy to see so much green. Snezhnaya is always cold and has deep shades of blue, so seeing this much green always makes you feel better. You two concluded your tour and were ready to head out, but as soon as you stepped outside the bitter wind blew against your face. You shivered against your already thick jacket, it seemed that the Snezhnaya weather had dipped way below freezing. You breathe into your hands to keep yourself warm, but alas it didn’t work. You stared out on the snow covered streets. Pantalone said that a vehicle should be coming soon but you couldn’t see crap. You felt yourself being pulled gently back inside the greenhouse before having a thick outer layer gently placed on your shoulder. You looked behind to see Pantalone smiling at you, he was wearing his purple inner jacket which seemed to do little to hide Pantalone’s shiver. 
“Pantalone, you’re shivering here.” You tried to protest by removing his Fatui coat off your shoulder but you were stopped as Pantalone placed it back on your shoulders.
“I’ll be fine my lily, your comfort is my utmost priority.” Pantalone smiled as he then turned to one of the workers ``kindly” asking them to bring a heater. Kindly is putting it nicely, more like he was demanding it with a nice tone. You giggled a bit before settling down on a nearby seat. Pantalone turned back to you giving you a rare soft smile that he only gives when you two were completely alone. 
“You look ravenous in my coat dear, I should have the tailor make one to your size.” He smiled as he adjusted the collar. 
“That would be nice,” you smiled as you saw a light shine through the greenhouse's door.
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You were rummaging through Childe’s closet, as Teucer wrote a letter missing Childe. So in return you thought it would be really cute to send one of Childe’s dress shirts over, hoping it would keep the young lad at bay. As you rummage through you feel something soft and fluffy brush against your hand. You paused for sec, Childe doesn’t own anything fluffy. He’s normally wearing something semi-fancy or an outfit fit for a warrior. Letting your thoughts get you, you pulled the fluffy object out of the closet. You gave a soft smile as you pulled his formal overcoat out. You brushed against the fabric, you normally only get to see him wearing this during special events. And when those special events happen you normally can’t see him because you’re so far away from the stage to see the harbingers so close. But when you do get a glimpse you understand the girls in Snezhnaya who fawn over the harbingers. Childe looks so handsome in the coat, and looks very warm. 
An idea popped into your head as you walked out of the walk-in closet. You pranced towards the giant mirror that sat in your shared bedroom. Gently putting the outer coat on you were overwhelmed by Childe’s cologne. You smiled as you hugged the coat closer to you. Looking at yourself in the mirror you were engulfed by his coat. The metal charms softly clanked against each other as you gave yourself a little twirl. Smiling to yourself you cuddled yourself into the black fur. It was so soft and warm and reminded you so much of Childe. As you were lost in your thoughts you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. You yelped in surprise before you heard a familiar chuckle. 
“You look so cute Zolotse.” You hear Childe mumble against the fur.
“Ajax! You’re home early.” You looked at him in surprise. He smiled as he stared loving at you.
“Yeah, I was able to finish work early and was just too excited to come home.” He laughed a bit before burying his head back into the fur coat. You leaned into Childe’s lean body as you two stayed in that position for a moment. 
“Maybe I’ll ask Pantalone to make a custom jacket for you.” Childe smiled as he picked you up in ease and twirled you around. You two laughed before Childe dropped you two on your soft bed. He was on top of you while you were sprawled against the bed. The Coat slightly hanging on you.
“Ha, you look so cute wearing my clothes. I wonder…” Childe gave a devious smile before you playfully hit his shoulder.
“Take me to dinner first Mr.Fatui Harbinger.” You two laughed as Childe fell on top of you engulfing you in a hug. 
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robot-roadtrip-rants · 3 months ago
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Was discussing Guilliman's Farm Thing and there's something I need to break down for y'all here.
Guilliman is not a farmer. Guilliman knows jack fucking shit about what life is actually like for a farmer, or any other working-class, or middle class, or non-aristocratic class person. Like I am 100% certain he has read tons of statistics and books and whatnot but that is very different from actually living the life.
Guilliman is a chronic overachieving workaholic who was forced one (1) time to take a vacation when he was briefly stranded on an agrarian planet during an especially stressful time in his life, and he enjoyed that break so much that he has spent the rest of his life fantasizing about it. Has he ever taken a vacation since? No. Has he even realized that what he really wants is the peace and quiet of a vacation rather than the """"""""simple""""""" (FARMING ISN'T SIMPLE YOU COLOSSAL FUCKWIT) life of a farmer? Also no.
Guilliman is a very, very smart person who is, on occasion, a giant fucking dumbass. Thank you and good night.
Edit: lemme clear some things up—I’m not talking about Guilliman’s actual capabilities here. I’m talking about him treating agriculture like a fun getaway, rather than actual work. There’s a long history of wealthy/powerful people romanticizing the simple pleasures of rural life without ever getting their hands dirty. IMHO that’s a stupid fucking take. Labor is labor, whether urban or rural. THAT’S why I emphasized that farming isn’t simple. It’s work, not a vacation.
TBH, I was being kinda unfair to Gman here. We all have fantasies where we save the day, or tell our bosses to fuck off after winning the lottery, or devastate our rivals with comebacks so good that everyone else applauds. I’m just really burnt out on people taking Guilliman’s Walter Mitty fantasies seriously. Dude doesn’t actually want to be a farmer, he wants a vacation.
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goldenstring6123 · 6 months ago
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Lnds: Their nicknames for you
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Warning: No warning!
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SYLUS:
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Peeping Tom - You like to enter the shower when he's in, and he can no longer count on his fingers how many times you walked in on him changing, not that he's shy. Despite this, he doesn't lock the door to his closet or the bathroom. One day, when you're off guard, he'll definitely pounce at you.
Mrs. Boss (Alt. Little boss) - You weren't married, no, but with how you treat him, he feels like a husband. Despite being the boss of Onichynus, it's amusing to see you hand out orders. This nickname is something he'd use while you're undercover and using your aristocrat alter-identity. The Mrs. was something he used because he likes to imagine you're married to him; after all, no man can match you other than him.
My Wife - Again, you weren't married, but people can't seem to take a hint when he says he's not interested. At every event, someone is bound to throw themselves at him and insist on being his company, but with a simple mention of "I have a wife," followed by a statement about you being displeased or angered, they scurry away. You don't know he uses that nickname in front of strangers, and it doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon.
Other nicknames: Dessert Vacuum, Little Birdie & Little Hamster
Xavier:
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Ms. Idol - He once overheard you singing out loud while you were in the shower. When you were at the karaoke bar, madly drunk, you kept stealing the microphone from your peers. Sometimes, he also likes to listen to you hum. He deems it appropriate to give you that nickname.
Little Star - You were very skilled against him in kitty cards, and it didn't feel appropriate to give you the nickname "Best Player in Linkon City, Queen of Kitty Cards," so he just called you the Little Star. How that nickname correlates to the game is unknown to you, but oh well.
Personal Pillow - He likes to sleep on you. On your shoulder, on your thigh, even against your back—he can and will go to sleep if he could. Xavier would always wake up with you in his embrace, and you never really complained, so he continued doing it. He'll only use this nickname whenever you're staying up late, and he's waiting for you to go to bed. You'll be in the living room, and you'll hear him say, "I need my pillow to sleep!"
Other nicknames: Pastry Princess & Pretty Lady
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Rafayel:
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Bully - With your frequent teasing and provocation, you ought to see this one coming. This is his nickname on your phone, and you didn't really know it until you snooped around. Once you find out, he outright calls you a bully whenever you poke fun at him for doing something.
My Muse - He doesn't call you this face-to-face, but this is your nickname when Rafayel is talking to art buyers and connoisseurs. They often ask about who he's drawing inspiration from. He sometimes says "his lover," but to him, it felt more exciting and intriguing to refer to you as his muse.
Starfish - This was a testament to your habit of hogging the entire bed. Every time you sleep over, you end up sprawled all over the bed like a starfish stuck to glass. Rafayel had to endure the small space that he had left on his bed and altogether just slept on the sofa on bad nights. Sometimes, he'd be surprised to wake up with the bed all to himself until he looked at the floor. And there you were in the same position, except flipped over.
Other nicknames: Pufferfish/Koi Fish, Beau, Cutie
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Zayne:
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Ms. Hunter - He uses this nickname when you're in the hospital getting treated for an injury from work. This is a nickname that's also a sign: a sign that Zayne is mildly pissed at your carelessness at work. When he uses this nickname, he becomes formal with you until you get a good dose of scolding from him.
Honey - He uses this on a daily basis inside your home and when he's on his day off. This was sort of like your second name, and whenever you hear the word, you almost always turn to look at Zayne. You call him honey, too, but you prefer the shorter version: Hun.
Sweetheart - This is a nickname Zayne uses to comfort you. Whenever you have a bad day or are in a bad mood, Zayne will automatically enter 'doting-lover' mode. He'd use this to refer to you and break down your emotional walls until you can tell him what's wrong. 10/10 if he uses this nickname outside of those moments, then it means Zayne is asking you to do him a favor of some sort.
Other nicknames: Sweetie & Wife
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Caleb:
Angry Bird - Caleb calls you this because back then, you had the temperament of a fussy old lady. He'd always find a way to piss you off, and you'd run after him with a stick or something that you could hit him with.
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Author footnotes: I added Caleb because I want to slowly integrate him to my works.
Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |
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werewolfetone · 3 months ago
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DROP the classic text we've already multiple adaptations of and come with me and I will show you a beautiful 1810s belfast where you may set an original film/series/whatever instead. in which you may put as many dramatic men in cravats and women who cut about in see through dresses as you like but this time you you will have a load of new character tropes at your disposal and the characters will also have the advantage of not actually being british. take my hand
My stance on the recently announced new pride and prejudice adaptation is that instead of making another austen adaptation set in england (🤢) they should be making something unrelated set in georgian northern ireland instead. and my stance on the white heathcliff film is also that they should be making something unrelated set in georgian northern ireland instead
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witchyafterdark · 5 months ago
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— Ominis Gaunt Headcanons; pt. 3
• The Pros and Cons of being with him •
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This post has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time now, and was supposed to be the second installment of my previous post about Sebastian! Nevertheless, here it is. I've thought about this one a little bit harder than the other since it's my boy Ominis. All photos used are not mine, and all credits to their respective owners.
・❥・ PROS
He is the most empathetic, compassionate, thoughtful, and caring man you'll ever be with.
Most people need to be taught how to have compassion towards others, or that an example needed to be shown in order for them to learn. But with Ominis, this is something inborn. Empathy is nestled deep inside his bones, and it will be very difficult for anyone to make him act out of alignment from his true caring nature.
He is tremendously protective of you, and by extension, those you consider very close to you.
One of the many ways he demonstrates his devotion to you is by means of providing you with protection. Understandably, he knows that you aren't some damsel who needs help all the time. That's why he discreetly protects you when you need it the most; which are during the times you do not see the danger you're about to encounter, or are already in the midst of.
Quite ironic, he sees certain social situations leagues ahead of you, given his aristocratic upbringing, and can definitely read between the lines of people's intentions toward you. He will immediately step in — with practiced grace mixed with lethality — and eradicate any threat that looms over you before you even begin to notice anything amiss.
By extension, he is also very attuned to your emotional states, physical needs, and mental processes.
You wouldn't have to worry about being with someone who doesn't know how to understand you in ways you want to be understood because that couldn't be further from the truth with Ominis. One of the factors that make him a good partner is that he would actually get to know you before being with you. He took the time to learn your patterns and behaviors, and he genuinely studied you thoroughly in hopes of doing right by you.
Therefore, being in a relationship with him means he truly knows he can be a good match for you, as he doesn't want to waste both of your time. He understands when you're stressed, and would do anything in his power to alleviate your pains. And he knows when to step back and give you your personal space to figure things out by yourself.
Surprisingly, he has a mischievous and adventurous spirit in his heart, and he knows how to keep the fun alive between you two.
Being born blind, he has been told endlessly by his punitive family that he would most likely amount to nothing in his life without their illustrious influence and infamous reputation. But ever the rebel, Ominis wanted to prove to himself that their words hold no significance in his ability to live life to the fullest. To your pleasant surprise, he is much more lively and playful once you truly get to know him and he lets go of all his defenses! He isn't Anne and Sebastian's oldest friend for nothing; he knows a plethora of ways to rebel, bask in the moments of fun and adventure, and get into the occasional mischief to feed the need for a little adrenaline rush. Most people would probably consider him a boring and rigid person to be with, but he's just waiting for the right one to share the joy and happiness with.
Ominis is one of the bravest and most loyal people you'll ever get the chance to be with, whether for friendship or romantic relationship. You'll get to enjoy certain... perks of being with him. And he's more than willing to ensure your comfort and satisfaction as his partner.
Simply put, he has no qualms in waving his family name around to protect and preserve the peace around him — and that includes making sure you're safe, unbothered, and given the same special privileges as he has. Rest assured that once he made up his mind that he wants to be with you, you wouldn't have to worry if he's thinking of anybody else besides you. Everyone will know that he is yours, but most importantly, everyone will know you're his. and he's not embarrassed to say he is with you. In fact, he revels in it; albeit, more privately. While he does want people to know that he is off the market, he loathes the notion of people getting to know what goes on with your relationship with him. He's still a private person at the end of the day.
Behind closed doors, he is the most affectionate, touchy, and loving man you'll ever know.
Ominis is the kind of person that is sensitive to the energies of other people. He is sensitive like that, and for good reason. He can "read" the room perfectly without the need for sight. And so, he would definitely know simply by the sound of your heavy footsteps that you've had a tiring, rough day. Wordlessly, he would have the initiative to cook dinner for you, prepare you a hot bath, not forgetting to lay your night clothes on your bed, and caressing your hair to send you to sleep as you lay secure in his warm embrace at night. He also knows when you just need time alone to be by yourself, and tend to your own needs without him in the picture.
Nevertheless, you wouldn't even think of him as someone that needs to be "coached" into being a good partner — he has that naturally built into his personality.
╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮
・❥・ CONS
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Due to his unstable upbringing, he is actually the most possessive person you've ever met... worse that Sebastian.
It is known that Ominis is a very closed-off person. He is very difficult to win over, let alone befriend and to romance. When he was a child, every family connection his father had made was exploited to the bone. Those people would unwittingly feel honored to be acquainted to the Gaunts that they would most likely do anything to win their favor. Ominis' father once taught him that the people around him was supposed to obey him out of respect for their ancient, noble lineage.
Therefore, once Ominis lets you into his life, he unconsciously views you as his possession; someone that must remain in his life, unless he deems otherwise.
During arguments, he would not back down, and would sound punitive at times.
Having to fight for his life — quite literally — at the hands of his cruel family, Ominis has learned that using his words can equally be as destructive as combative magic. His usual sarcastic quips are one of his normal defense mechanisms. But if you're engaged in an argument with him, especially when he knows he is right, best believe he will not hold back. You will get your feelings and pride and dignity hurt. He will lay out the truth no holds barred. He will make you understand why he knows best, and that you should just listen.
After what happened during fifth year with Sebastian, he's had absolutely enough with giving people the benefit of the doubt. Once he made up his mind about a certain topic, good luck trying to change his mind now.
If you are rumored to have been getting closer to another man, best believe he will be taken care of as soon as possible. You won't see that man ever again. (He isn't a Gaunt for nothing).
As far as he's concerned, the only type of friends you need in your life are those he knows of; Poppy Sweeting, Natsai Onai, and perhaps even Imelda Reyes. Sebastian can be part of your circle but even that he is wary of. But if he so hears about other men trying to be close to you (even as your relationship with him is already public knowledge), or you're in the process of entertaining the possibility of being with other men, he will get them out of the picture by the end of the week.
He is not afraid of twisting the truth, fabricating lies and offenses that those men seemingly committed, and falsifying being a witness to a breach of magical protocol just to send them on their merry way. You'll be confused as to how and why these men just keep on getting questioned by magical authorities but you'll be none the wiser about his involvement.
Speaking of, no matter how hard he tries to undo all the conditioning he was put through as a child, his Gaunt tendencies tend to rear its ugly head when he feels out of control, or threatened in any way.
This one is something he does not want you to know. It's one of his deepest, darkest secrets that he tries to bury underneath his caring and compassionate efforts of becoming a better man. Some days, it truly gets the best of him, especially when he perceives that he is not being taken seriously, or that things around him are getting out of control. Being someone without sight (that is also a Gaunt), having absolute control of his surroundings is something he needs to feel safe and secure. Without it, it's as if he is wandless — holding his hands up in front of him like when he was a helpless child.
And so, if he perceives petulance on your part, in spite of him exercising patience, he will resort to intimidation and manipulation. He doesn't need to exert physical force to make you understand exactly what he is capable of if you keep up with your actions.
(There's a reason why Dominis is a thing to begin with. People know he is capable of it!)
Once you're with him, there's no backing out. He won't allow it. You are his.
When you agreed to accept his courtship, he understood it as a mutual agreement that this is not something casual in nature. You are not with him to waste his time, as he wouldn't want to waste yours. The decision to court you was not made on a whim. He realizes the potential of a great and fruitful romantic partnership with you. Therefore, in his mind, you need to validate his assumptions about you. You need to prove that he was right about you.
Of course, he will subtly guide you through the stages of your relationship in order to fit his narrative as he intended. He will mold you to be the person of his dreams, and will give you whatever you want that is within his power. You'd do well to be grateful and acknowledge that through your cooperation.
And if you ever break his heart by being with someone else behind his back, he will make sure you will pay for it... one way or another.
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So, do the pros outweigh the cons for you?
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maxdibert · 2 months ago
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Sirius Black, the firstborn. The aristocrat. The one raised in a disgustingly rich, respected, and feared family. Sirius Black, the rebel without a cause, who forged his identity by opposing the values of that family. The tall guy, so handsome that girls couldn’t even concentrate on their exams. The popular one, the one who had it all. The one who didn’t have to worry about running away from home because the loving parents of his also-rich best friend took him in. Sirius Black, the one at the top, the one who did whatever he wanted to those beneath him. The one who spent seven years torturing a poor half-blood just out of boredom, for fun, because he could.
Sirius Black, who looked at that poor half-blood as a representation of everything he hated, everything that disgusted him. Despising him for wanting to go to his family’s house, for wanting to gain power that he—let’s be honest—had possessed from birth. Sirius Black, constantly laughing at Severus Snape, calling him Snivellus, mocking his appearance, ridiculing his poor, downtrodden look, encouraging him to go somewhere he’d likely end up dead. Sirius Black, convinced he was doing nothing wrong because Severus Snape was a piece of shit who followed the Death Eaters, and hurting him was completely justified.
Sirius Black, the brave one, the one who would’ve given his life for the good cause, the one who was on the right side from the beginning, who always knew where he belonged, who went to war and gave it his all—so much that he ended up in prison.
Sirius Black, who escapes Azkaban only to end up in another prison. The one who, locked in his family home, starts to see things for what they are. The one who is no longer a help but a hindrance. The one who is just a ticking time bomb for a Dumbledore who never gave a damn about his zeal for the fight. Sirius Black, who suddenly finds himself facing that same half-blood he used to insult, to hit, to hunt down like a predator after its daily meal. There he is, with them. Severus Snape, the Dark Arts freak, the greasy-haired, Malfoy’s lapdog, the one who followed the pureblood supremacists and bears the Dark Mark. The same Severus Snape who was a Death Eater and followed Voldemort, now stands as Dumbledore’s right-hand man.
And Dumbledore trusts him more than anyone. Trusts him so much that, although neither Lupin, Tonks, nor Moody like having him among their ranks, no one dares say a word against him. Only Sirius speaks up, and when he does, everyone scolds him. Because he’s no longer Snivellus; now he’s Snape. He’s a double agent. He’s someone important. He’s a rook, a bishop, a knight, while the others are mere pawns.
Sirius Black wonders why. Why, if he did everything right, if he stood up to his family, if he always defended what was right, he’s now reduced to a broken toy confined to isolation while that piece of shit who did everything wrong is the one who has Dumbledore’s favor. Because Sirius was always one of the good ones, and Severus was one of the bad ones. Because tormenting and mistreating him was justified. But then he realizes it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who’s good or bad in a war; what matters is how useful you are to those who wage them.
And he has become useless, while Severus is a key piece. And that is the best revenge Severus could have had for all the years of abuse he endured: for Sirius to realize, in the last months of his life, that all his efforts to rebel had meant nothing. In a war against power structures, the aristocratic boy never has a place.*
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urfavleo777 · 3 months ago
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Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, oral (f receiving), enemies to lovers.
pairing colby brock x fem¡reader
HALLOWEEN prompt: The new tenants of the house you’re haunting are being haunted by another ghost. War ensues.
As a ghost, you liked to make your presence felt.
It was fun to torment the living by slamming cabinets and putting on your favourite songs when you were still human. Terrified owners, convinced that they were dealing with a demon, started hanging crosses and pictures in huge numbers. In every corridor of this Victorian house there was at least one painting with the image of Mary. Within 24 hours they all landed on the floor with an incredible bang.
So you weren't surprised when they brought in a priest one day. As if that would help. The priest blessed the house in vain and when he left, the owners tried to communicate with you using the Ouija board. They asked a lot of questions and didn't get a single answer from you.
You thought they were fools. You've given them so many signs that you don't want them here. All you wanted was to get them all off your property. Why couldn't they just pack up their things and find another house? Maybe because not every house looked like a  fortress frozen in time.
The most active place was your room upstairs, which now, slightly renovated, belonged to their son. You particularly liked the youngest boy in the family, he seemed to be the most terrified and often you'd do things specifically targeting him, including whispering creepy sounds in his ear at night to keep him on edge.
You didn't remember when nor how you died. The only thing you remembered about your previous life was music. You loved music, sometimes you even replayed a Michael Jackson concert in your head that you, as a human, had managed to attend. So you must have been stuck here since the late 1980s, haunting this place for years, quietly watching over it.
Everything was fine until the other ghost showed up.
“Show yourself!” You gasped, trying to keep your voice steady.
A figure began to take shape out of the air, the image fuzzy but slowly growing clearer. As you stared at the spectre, it was clear that the presence before you had once been a man. You could see the sharp features and strong jawline from decades gone by.
A chill went up your spine as you realized the clothing of the ghost was very different from a modern outfit. It was older, but well-made and expensive-looking, like something an 1800s aristocrat might wear.
“You're new,” he said, his voice low and smooth, yet there was something cold in his tone. “This isn't your home.”
He stepped forward, and you could see the details of his face, a face that was sharp and handsome. He seemed to be in his mid-20s, with dark, intense eyes. He was wearing a long coat, perfectly tailored and a stark black and white color. A dark hat was in his hand, as if he'd just taken it off.
“I...” You swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed by fear, but also this strange pull of curiosity. The ghost looked at you, his expression almost disdainful.
“You're the one who's been haunting this house,” he stated. It was clearly not a question. “You've been making yourself quite the nuisance, haven't you?”
“Before I died in this house, it was mine. I can scare anyone I want here and no one, especially no one who looks like... someone straight out of the Middle Ages, will stop me.”
"Oh, do I look out-of-date to you? I suppose fashion has changed since my time. But let me tell you something that has not: this house is mine. We built it. The Brock family.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait... Brock family?” You felt a sudden jolt of realization. “Brock... you mean the family that built the original part of this house?”
His expression hardened. “Yes. The Brock family. Every stone, every brick, belonged to my ancestors.”
The ghost smiled, though his smile was more of a sneer. He began to pace, the sound of his steps echoing throughout the chamber.
“Anyway, you think that dying in the house gives you the right to terrify its owners?” A small smile curled on his lips.
“I am the owner. And they deserved it,” You retorted, though you voice lacked the conviction you wished it to have.
The ghost cocked his head to the side. "Oh? And why is that?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.
“They don't... value the history of this place. They are turning this house into some kind of religious cult. Have you seen these crosses? The only thing missing from perfection here is the Pope.”
He arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “A sentimental ghost. How... touching.”
“Better than a fallen aristocrat.” You retorted, though the ghost's smile was sending chills up your spine.
He leaned in close. His voice dropped to a murmur. “You think scaring them is enough?” He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a finger gently against your cheek. You felt a chill go through you, but not of coldness. “Why not do something... more entertaining, Y/N?” As your name left his lips, you almost died a second time. How did he know? You tried to hide your shock, “How- how do you know my name?”
The ghost had a small, smug smirk on his face. "I know a great many things, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone almost mocking. “Oh, and where are my manners? Colby Brock, son of the home's original owner.”
You hesitated for a moment, wary of him. But, almost against your will, you reached out to take his hand. It was strangely warm and as you felt the solidity of his hand in yours, you stared at him. He was a ghost like you, yet he seemed different. More... real, more present.
“How can I... feel you?” You whispered, your voice shaking a bit.
Colby's smirk widened. “I've been watching you... Y/N,” he said. You didn't like the way he said your name, almost as if it was an endearment.
“You've been watching me?” Your voice came out in a whisper.
“As much as a ghost can,” he replied, running a thumb over the back of your hand. “I have to admit, you're fascinating. A mischievous spirit with a penchant for causing chaos.”
His words made you feel uneasy, but you didn't pull your hand away. The feeling of his skin on yours was so... foreign. It had been decades since you felt a physical touch.
He shrugged, his other hand tracing a path around your wrist. It was strangely intimate.
“A little amusement,” he said, his voice low. “Your antics were a pleasant distraction from this eternal haunting of my former home.”
You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip was firm. “Let me go,” You murmured, though there was no force in your voice.
Colby chuckled, his eyes locked with yours. “Or what?” he asked, his grip tightening just slightly. “What are you going to do? Cause a few bumps in the night? Knock some glasses off the kitchen counter?”
A small smirk played on his lips. “You can't do anything to me, sweetheart. Besides, this is my house.”
“It's my house too,” You retorted.
“Oh, no, my dear,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “This house has always been and always will be mine.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. You better tell me how we can scare them that they shit in their pants.”
Colby's expression turned smug. “Oh, a variety of things. A voice in the middle of the night, an unseen force knocking around the trinkets they'd placed. What fun would it be to tell you, sweetheart?”
His condescending tone irritated you, but even more concerning was how you were letting him hold your hand and the way your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in.
“Perhaps we could have a different kind of… fun.”
You felt your cheeks warm despite yourself. You wanted to argue with him, but something in his gaze kept you pinned in place.
Colby tilted your chin up gently, making you meet his eyes. “Oh?” he murmured, his tone lowering, “Is that what you want, honey?”
Your breath hitched at his words and the soft touch. He was right, you missed the physicality of life, the sensation of being touched and held. His thumb gently traced the curve of your cheek. “I can give you what you want, Y/N,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his lips were practically brushing yours.
Colby moved closer, his thumb tracing a slow path down your neck. You felt your breath hitch as a shiver ran down your spine at his touch.
He whispered, his voice low, “I know exactly how you feel. How your body aches for a touch that it will probably never feel again. I understand that, honey. Better than you know.”
He paused, so close you could almost taste his breath.
“But it comes with a price, you know,” he murmured. “You'll be mine. My haunting. My sweetheart.”
“Take me.” Was all you could manage to say.
Colby's smirk turned into a satisfied smile. "Gladly, sweetheart," he murmured. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, a century's worth of longing and loneliness poured into the contact, like he was trying to memorize every detail.
With a low growl, he pulled you fully into his lap, pressing you against him. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands gripping your waist, pulling your body against his.
“You have no idea how badly I've waited for this,” he murmured, kissing down your neck.
You threw your arms around his neck, feeling his breath, his skin, his solidness beneath you. It felt like a dream you’d spent decades having, and now it was here, real and solid.
Colby continued to kiss along your neck, his lips moving down to the hollow of your throat. When he reached the base of your neck, he paused, then gently bit down, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.
You let out a gasp, your nails digging into his back as he found a sensitive spot. Colby let out a dark chuckle, kissing and biting lightly as if to draw out more reactions from you.
“I need you, Colby,” you whispered between kisses. “Colby,” you whined, burying your hands in his hair.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Colby whined, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “Let me make you feel good, okay?” You nodded, settling down on the sofa where he knelt in front of you, taking you in. He cursed under his breath, looking you up and down.
“Colby,” you whined, arching your back. You needed his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything.
“I know, pretty,” he soothed, threading his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “I will take care of you.” He slid them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties.
He took off his own shirt, threw it carelessly and let it get lost on the floor. He slid down to the bottom of your bra, teasingly touching the fabric before he put his hand behind your back and skillfully undid your bra in one easy movement. You arched your back again, the straps of your bra slipping off your shoulders.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect. You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”
“Y-yes,” you stuttered, biting your lip as his hand left your breasts and moved down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He moved his fingers down some more, feeling where the arousal was leaking through the panties.
“Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kissed your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travelled to where you needed him most.
There’s something depraved about the way he was crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spread your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settled in between them.
He stopped and looked at you through closed eyes. You could see the want – no, need – in the way his muscles flexed and the way his jaw worked. But he hesitated, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rose and fell quickly as your eyes searched for his next move.
He finally pressed a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbled against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You threw your head back, whimpering his name like a mantra. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard.
“F-fuck!” You cried out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he set a relentless pace. “Colby!”
“I know, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” He soothed and squeezes your hip, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion. Your walls fluttered again. “That’s it,” he cooed. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He started licking harder, faster.
Your body was his, completely at his mercy, and from the look in his eyes, he knew it. Your eyes fluttered shut, silently and vocally begging him to take control.
“That’s right, baby,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “Cum for me, darlin’.”
His words ignited something primal in you, your body responding to his dominance as you gasped for breath, legs shaking beneath you. You screamed in pleasure, causing Colby to groan.
“All mine,” He hissed, licking up the juices. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Fuck.
The youngest of the family, whom you loved to scare so much, spent the night away from his room. He couldn't bear to listen to the sound of furniture falling from the top floor.
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maxdibert · 1 month ago
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I have countless posts analyzing why it’s deeply problematic to portray a character with no economic or social support, who was constantly subjected to violence by the “good guys,” and whose supposed best friend (who you claim supported him significantly) even downplayed or questioned some of that abuse. These “good guys who weren’t fascists or supremacists” even tried to kill him, and their headmaster—the very person supposedly opposing the super-evil, Nazi-like villain—silenced him about the attempted murder, never punished the perpetrators, and forced him to let it go. Then you go and say that this character magically turned into a fascist overnight.
I don’t think you understand how extremist groups target deeply vulnerable adolescents and young adults, seeing them as easy prey to offer a sense of security, future prospects, and brainwash them. I also have plenty of analysis on how everything Severus experienced in the Muggle world—extreme poverty and a Muggle father he associated with violence and abuse—logically reinforced the rhetoric he heard from his Hogwarts peers. And I have countless analyses on why comparing European fascism (as Rowling does) with the Death Eaters is deeply disrespectful.
Read them if you want, or don’t, but your entire perspective ignores a host of social issues that intersect with the character and drive his decisions. Honestly, as someone who grew up among right-wing Catholic teenagers while being active in Marxist youth movements from the age of 15, as someone who has had legal trouble with neo-fascist groups, and as someone who now works as a lawyer aiding ex-convicts in the process of reintegration, I find your analysis dismissive of the sociocultural and political background of European fascism, the social situation of the ’60s and ’70s in Europe—especially the UK—and the evolution of European far-right movements. It also overlooks all the social factors that contribute to the radicalization of young people who are resource-poor, vulnerable, or at risk of social exclusion, pushing them into groups, gangs, cults, or antisocial and criminal behaviors.
It’s easy to choose the right path when you have a lot of money, friends, and are at the top of the social hierarchy (like the Marauders). It’s much harder to have a strong moral compass when you have absolutely nothing, and everyone turns their back on you. So, I’m sorry, but a bunch of rich, aristocratic, abusive brats will never seem like better people to me than someone who, partly because of them, was driven into terrible company.
I’ve also written extensively about the topic of Snape being the “big bad” with his students, and honestly, I don’t think he’s worse than other Hogwarts professors. In fact, he’s almost laughable compared to real-life teachers. But, well, pointing this out feels a bit silly—I’ve written about it as someone with functioning neurons.
Like I said, I have a lot of analyses and thoughts on this, and I’m not going to repeat everything because, honestly, I’ve had a terrible week debating with people, and I’m mentally exhausted. Sorry.
More Snape Slander guys!!!
Lol, I truly, really love having a reason to add to my already 15-pages-long rant of Snape Slander, so let’s go:
Okay, I’m going to be posting this as a different post but this is an answer to some arguments that someone made in this post (I’ll tag them below, I just hate to have repostings on my profile - or, if any kind soul could tag them I'd appreciate, this is their post, read at your own discretion [it's terrible, though], I really need to get some sleep rn). If you’re interested in reading more about my not really favorable view of Snape, there’s also my character analysis here.
So let’s begin, shall we (oh, and by the way, I am as educated as you were with me)?
Interesting that you think that my post is bullshit, love, because I think your arguments are ludicrous, to say the least. I wasn’t going to bother with a response but I think it’s only right I add some critical skills and point out that many of your points are already taken care of in my original post – something you’d know if you had read it and understood it.
Anyway, your whole argument is based on the fact that no legal system would consider Snape guilty which… okay?
Because the judiciary system is completely fair and absolves only people who should be absolved. It is not at all used as a political tool to advance the very corrupted system we all live in, as noted by the contrast between the speed with which the ICJ issued Putin’s prison mandate but delayed Netanyahu’s prison mandate for months. It’s not like most of the people locked up in jails in America are black and poor despite the criminality rates showing white men as more likely to commit crimes such as rape, child abuse, kidnapping, and feminicide.
It’s not like every and each judiciary system serves a capitalist political agenda. A very white, patriarchal, European political agenda.
And about that, which judiciary system are we talking about? Mine? Yours? The UK’s? The International Court of Law? The wizarding world's? Because of course, there’s a difference between all of them and even if you’re right, what does it proves? What does it prove that a white, fascist man with connections to the most privileged in the society (rich purebloods and Dumbledore at the same time btw) would be absolved of his crimes in a system that also privileges him?
Because it does privilege him of course: we’re talking about a system of oppression that is ingrained in the wizarding world, why would it be any different from the real world? Snape was fighting for the maintenance of a system that is corrupted (and this also includes the judiciary btw) and to keep on the status quo, especially when he was a Death Eater but also when he was on Dumbledore’s side.
He might not have been targeting muggleborns as he once was when he was young but changing his choice of victims doesn’t change the fact that he’s using his societal privilege to continue the oppressive system and cycles of abuse he upholds so perfectly since he was a kid. A fucking role model, to be honest.
I mean, using his teacher position to condone bullying and terrorize children, who are a social minority and are in a position of vulnerability in relation to his place as a professor? Ring any bells?
And don’t come with me with the “but he saved them all the time” argument. He took on that role because he wanted to, he did it because he chose to, and as a professor, it was his responsibility to care for his students’ wellbeing (not that he does much besides keeping them alive for enough time to traumatize them on his way out). I imagine what a role like that would entangle in a magical school where children have potential guns in their hands all the time – sounds a bit like a security hazard to me even without the whole genocidal maniac persecuting one of them, to be honest. It’s like a parent wanting laurels for actually doing their responsibility, it’s shameful.
Or, I don’t know, using his higher position in the social hierarchy to expel the only competent teacher of the children he was supposed to look out for because of his lower societal status as a werewolf and continuously using that to make them feel bad in Order reunions, over and over again using his privilege as a non-werewolf as a tool to express his well-placed resentment?
The legal point of view is the real bullshit.
“He paid his debt to society” and now he’s free to do whatever the hell he wants because he chose to take vengeance on his ex-best friend’s murder (that he also had a hand in) even if it means that he gets to use his privilege against others exactly like he did in the past – just not on muggleborns because last time he did it, his feelings got hurt. But *these new marginalized people* he can beat up because that’s not the same thing at all.
You say that “redemption within society isn’t about changing your ideology” but forget to question why. Is it perhaps because the people who are actually let go always seem to be the fascist one who upholds what capitalism needs them to uphold? In contrast, of course, with the people who actually do the right thing regardless of legality and are persecuted their whole lives because of it.
Plus, you don’t take into account what is the effect of it, right? Why should we ever worry about someone’s ideology if they paid their time? It’s not like their ideology reflects on what they think and how they act in and affect society. It’s not like it can do any harm by perpetuating and encouraging these beliefs by, I don’t know, taking a racist education and using it to argue in favor of colonization and occupation of non-white countries because your group has been victimized by the same people that think you and those non-white communities are garbage, or taking on a job that involves children and condones bullying and slurs being thrown at the marginalized kids of his school.
Of course not.
And you say that “the system Rowling portrays isn’t fascist because it lacks the economic and social foundations to support that definition” but forgets also that it doesn’t really matter whether is a bad or good representation because it’s still a representation of it. You can’t smell smoke, feel your eyes burning, suffocate on it, and say there isn’t a fire because you technically weren’t burned.
It's like denying there was a State coup in Brazil in 2016 because the impeachment had “legal ground” (which it didn’t by the way): it’s a lazy attempt to grasp at technicalities to escape the very obvious truth that, regardless of the argument (or, in this case, the literary representation) being good or bad, the facts remain the same.
And the fact is that Rowling wrote the Death Eaters as an analogy to fascism (nazism, actually, but let’s use the general term), and as such, most of the fandom interprets it and internalizes it that way. Thus, her negligence of the societal and economic portrayal (although I would question the need for an economic portrayal in a children’s book) does nothing to further any argument at all, not when the truth is that it doesn’t matter that the portrayal is lacking: it’s enough to be understood as such by the masses and thus it becomes a moot point to make.
Severus and every single Death Eater is a fascist because they propagate, believe in, and are violent in the name of fascist ideology. That their group is not represented as a populist movement or that the wizarding world is not on the brink of its economic collapse to sustain that populist background is of little consequence to the average reader and their interpretation of the problem.
Plus, fascism is a concept that should apply to any social variation of the same movement. You sound like my college professor saying my class should call Bolsonaro a fascist because fascism is a concept used in a very tight set of rules – which is bullshit.
Although I had already taken all that into consideration in my previous post. You’d know that if you knew my arguments.
Now, you said that “redemption is about regretting what has happened and paying for it” and that’s interesting because, you see, that’s not what it is at all, not in every legal system, nor when we’re talking about narratives and writing.
In Brazil’s legal system, for example, our judiciary system is about social revitalization. Prison is not a place we send someone as a punishment, it’s not about paying a debt to society or being punished for what they’ve done. It’s about giving them the tools to not repeat their crimes once they come back to society, and that’s not a test Snape would be passing anytime soon because redemption from being a fascist would be to let go of fascist views.
In writing, on the other hand, an author has certain control over their character, which means that their portrayal is the author’s responsibility. A Redemption Arc is not about judging someone’s actions and applying a penalty, it’s about allowing your character to develop substantially throughout the narrative. They need to go from what they are in the beginning to a better version of themselves throughout the rest of the story and that’s certainly not what happens to Snape.
Again, refocusing your bullying to fit other vulnerable groups does not equal betterment in any way, shape of form.
Oh, I really love this one: “His ‘sentence’ was 17 years of self-imposed prison and life-threatening service, which is far more than any collaborator with a terrorist group would face in any real-world court.”
Seventeen years of which exactly 14 of those he spent being a professor in the most important schools of magic in the UK, being respected by his community, well-fed, having a probably copious amount of galleons in his bank account to do whatever the hell he wanted to, and still wallowing in his own misery and self-imposed (as you kindly pointed out) emotional torture living in his childhood home to go back to a castle and bully children at his leisure instead of bettering himself as a human being and actually putting some work towards self-improvement as to not, I don’t know, perpetuate cycles of abuse that ultimately led him towards that mess of a life he got for himself.
You’ll excuse me if I don’t find his journey that impressive from where I’m standing. He made his bed, he can sleep in it or try to do something about it. And, to be honest, I have little to no respect for people who do nothing about their own misery.
Then, he used three and something of those doing something useful but ultimately a sorry attempt at a Redemption Arc. Snape’s big, bold actions in the name of his love for Lily are not something I see as useless, they’re pretty heroic but it doesn’t matter because that’s not what my character analysis is about.
What I try to bring to light (and what you sincerely lost in the reading) is that there is no Redemption Arc for a fascist unless they are no longer fascist at all, and even so, there is some degree of immorality in portraying them as redeemable at all. But if you’re gonna attempt it, you need to be responsible and actually redeem them, ideology and all.
We’re talking about a book, a narrative that will be read by thousands of people, that will be example and insidiously have an effect on how people see the world. Condoning fascist ideology because they don’t persecute *this specific vulnerable minority* anymore (ignore that they do persecute others btw) and did some heroic things for the “good side” because they felt wronged by the “bad side” and not really for basic human decency is not impressive. Or worthy of praise.
Or basis for admiration.
And as for your account on “In any real-world war, he would not only have been honored and considered a national hero—he’d have a hundred movies and documentaries made about him. He’d be an icon.” – so do countless others who are not even remotely deserving of any kind of admiration or having their memories preserved in that sense.
I should know, the number of novellas and documentaries and songs and History lesson materials and street names in my city alone that are homages to “national heroes” that “helped” the poor people or some other minority while massacring indigenous peoples, selling out our land to big corporations and the agribusiness, censored and persecuted artists and journalists in their time, and so on are actually crazy in Brazil.
National heroes are only national heroes because they serve the political narrative our system needs them to serve, darling, otherwise, they are forgotten and even villainized, make no mistake of that.
“Politically, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to call a working-class boy a fascist when he ends up in a nest of far-right extremists simply because they’re the only ones who treat him well”
Interesting that you should mention Snape as a working-class boy – like class traitors don’t exist? Granted, the expression is mostly used to define cops but that’s no different, although I would call it a bit hypocritical of you to use Snape’s class to defend him when you accuse (rightfully so, of course) Rowling of not portraying well the economical part of fascism.
And “the only ones who treat him well”? Really? Lily apparently doesn’t exist in your reality. Or better yet, you’ll tell me she’s not a good friend and didn’t treat him well enough and all the misogynistic gross and stupid points snape apologists make when you’re scrambling to save your fave? Please, if that is it, spare me.
Oh, and by the way, the part you didn’t read at all on my very thorough analysis:
“The truth is, even with all the undeniable good Snape did as he worked as a spy, he was a Death Eater for his conviction, and at the end of the day it doesn’t matter why he chose to become one.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter that he was neglected and abused by his parents, or that he was bullied in school, or that his crush didn’t reciprocate his feelings: he still became a Death Eater, he chose to become one. And that is unforgivable. It is unforgivable because it means he supported and actively worked for a system of thinking that ridiculed, persecuted, tortured, and murdered hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people. He advocated for a political view that has no regard for human life, that perpetuates the abuse he suffered firsthand — just in a slightly different direction. He didn’t just not break his cycle of abuse, he actively perpetuated it. Advocated for it.
And don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying here that the abuse Snape went through isn’t important at all: there is definitely something to be said about the preying of supremacist groups for young isolated men who feel left out and emasculated. But that doesn’t mean Snape gets to be absolved for his own choices because that’s what they were: his choices. He chose to become a Death Eater, he chose to uphold the cycles of abuse he had been a victim to not long before, he chose to protect it even in the face of people — good people — telling him that it wasn’t a good thing.
That’s my point, actually: Snape may have been preyed upon by the blood supremacy ideology as a teen but at some point, he chose to be influenced by it more than by millions of other influences around him. He wasn’t completely isolated or ignorant of the world to the point that the only influence he could possibly choose was the blood supremacy one, no: he had people telling him the contrary and still chose to follow blood supremacy. So, no, it’s not forgivable that he chose to become a Death Eater because he did know better than that, his very friendship with Lily proved it.”
Oh, and let’s be very real here: “the rich, left-leaning aristocratic kids bully him for not meeting their social standards”
First of all, I brought the Marauders into my analysis as little as I could because I could destroy Snape’s character without even needing them. Now, if bullies like James and Sirius are actually better in their “social standards” (human decency is more like it, actually) as you so nicely put it, then I have no idea why you bother to defend Snape at all. I don’t have time, nor patience to explain that believing people are equal and deserve equal respect is the most basic thing you can do as a human being and if Severus doesn’t even manage that, his class or trauma has little to do with it, his character on the other hand...
Many people have trauma, as I already pointed out, and many people were lulled by fascist ideology but not all of them chose to give in to it. His choice is his responsibility, don’t ever deny that or fool yourself into thinking it’s some kind of forced brainwashing. It isn’t, and even if it is, it doesn’t matter as much as the fact that he’s an adult who should know better than to condemn people to die or think less of them because of things they cannot control.
And even entertaining you're crazy notion that Snape's not actually a fascist (he is) it doesn't really matter if he believes it if he joins a group that advocates for it.
Plus, you should really start thinking about what kind of idiotic ideology you tolerate just because of “trauma”. Fuck him and his trauma, I couldn’t care less if Snape was bullied because he lacks human decency because the truth, so eloquently put by my fellow countryman, is that “a fascist’s hat is a hammer; all suffering is not enough; and the swastika has to be hit until it turns into a pinwheel.” And by lovely miss Lyudmila Pavlichenk: “Not men, fascists.”
And yes, I think anyone left-leaning is better than anyone in the far-right any time of the day, not really sorry if I actually understand politics and how important it is to preserve the lives of people in a system that is designed to leave them in an indecent condition. A system that Snape fought to preserve ideologically and politically for the earlier years of his life without so much of a written recognition of the real garbage it all is.
Plus, let’s be very clear again, I wasn’t talking at all about the Marauders when I criticized Snape. You brought them into the discussion, not me. I could very well cite other characters who are not as terrible as Snape or bullies like teenager James and Sirius (and I’m gonna ignore that you included Peter and Remus into the ‘aristocratic’ and ‘rich’ context because I don’t think even a Snape apologist would be that idiotic although your hashtags beg for me to think otherwise), and still manage some fucking human decency despite their traumas.
Garbage is that you think, at fucking 28 years old, that fascist ideology is somehow tolerable, or that the legalities of some situation actually account for something other than the political structure of the system, or that admiration equals the deserving of it. Bullshit is you thinking that you can actually beat me on technicalities and that you believe advocating for tolerance over the intolerable is somehow admirable, is to be naïve enough to think the legal system doesn’t obey a political agenda and therefore benefits whoever is on the winning side, which to Snape was both during the two times he was a spy.
He was the one who had nothing to lose, darling. He had no family, no one that he cared about, no one who could even stand him, no one who would mourn him - all through his own merit by the way. And to be honest, no one to pity him either. It's pathetic that that is the truth because he chose so, that the only thing that "saves" him are a few memories of an abusive friendship.
He was nothing to be admired and never evolved as a human being. He gave himself to a cause that kept him commode most of the time and acted only out of the fact that he was wronged by the other side. The fact that if it had been Neville who was chosen he would never have turned is shameful as a human being, the fact that he only kept his students alive but never really took into account their wellbeing is shameful as a professor, the fact that he hated Harry because of all of it is childish and unbecoming for an adult, the fact that he bullied children is shameful as an adult.
And none of that was redeemed because he was a spy. He could be a spy and a fucking decent person. But he wasn’t, and he wasn’t by choice, so fuck him.
And, to end with this tiresome and, honestly, easy as fuck to refute, tirade of useless arguments, “What I’m saying is that I don’t give a damn about moral niceties.” – Clearly. Just as clear as your ignorance of what “moral niceties” really mean in this context.
PS: look, 22 pages now! I’m expecting more to be added…
PS2: Tbh, you'd think this person thinks the only people to ever fight Voldemort were the Marauders for all they seem to argue
PS3: This person really confirms everything I know about the relativism of European people for dangerous and prejudiced political views.
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gremlingottoosilly · 11 months ago
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The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)
Your royal husband decided to have some fun under the layers of your skirts. Essentially, your duty is to cockwarm him during the court meetings. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, cockwarming, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 2851 AO3
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The emperor has no shame.
He is getting himself a wife – a pretty one, a perfect one. You’re a princess from a kingdom lowly enough to never fight him, but also from a big enough that the marriage would be somewhat fine in the eyes of his advisors. Not like he cared, of course – not like he didn’t destroy your kingdom anyway, killing your alleged parents and the real princess in hiding. You knew that if he wanted to, he’d pick up a peasant rat from the street and proclaim her his prettiest courtesan.
You just happen to be more unlucky than a peasant rat. 
But, oh, he has no shame indeed. 
König hates his court – there is no surprise here. The only people he appreciates are the ones he hired himself – peasants just like him, brought from rags to riches, earning their worth in gold through undying loyalty. Fierce soldiers and cold generals – no place for aristocrats whose only prospects are the names of their families. König doesn’t care for the rich women in his harem – the same women who took turns adoring you as their newest addition, pretty little princess who will finally pay them some well-deserved attention. König doesn’t care for the opinion of his court, the old men who only here because the emperor knows there is some dignity in the old age, and their family’s money can go to fuel the empire’s prospects. 
You’re spread open – but concealed with skirts, a small mercy of your husband who couldn’t say less about saving your dignity. You whisper into his ear, a hiss mixed with a concealed moan – the advisors are too busy with chatter and idle quarrels about the next taxation over your land to see what their royal family is doing. If anyone noticed your ragged breath or König’s small movements, they knew better than to say anything. 
Maybe, this is why he didn’t care to stop the court ruling over some minuscule issue – taxes over your fallen kingdom, the way to make him richer while his opponents would fail, possible coup, and a few magic uprisings on the borders. These were all minimal threats to his throne – the same throne you were spreading your legs on. Your dignity as a fair maiden only saved by the heavy skirts that cover your lower areas. Your dignity as royalty is only saved by your pursed lips and complete silence in which König, the glorious ruler of the greatest empire on this continent, is using your warm cunt as a way to pass the boring court time.
You can feel everything – every throbbing vein of his manhood pulsating and twitching inside of you. Grazing your walls with its royal length, you only have as many opportunities to grunt and switch positions before his advisors start to become suspicious. You knew he wouldn’t care about them thinking of his as some impure creature made of lust – but you also hoped to have at least some social lubricant as a newly appointed queen. With your title being as pointless as the church’s charity work, you’d have to fight tooth and nail to get loved by your people.
With König keeping you confined in the castle walls and his harem maidens making sure you’re coming enough times per day to never walk without support, there aren’t a lot of ways for you to gain the love of your people.
A royal advisor – small, old man – is looking at you.
You smile.
König pushes his hips upwards, forcing a tight scowl on your face. The advisor turns away. 
— Y…you have to stop before they notice. 
He smirks, the emotion hidden by his mask. You’re adorable – pretty, naive, so unconcerned with the empire’s problems that he is surprised you weren’t the one to try to mount him in the first place. He thought that eager young princesses should be driven crazy by lust, wanting to get on whoever’s manhood is big enough, too secluded by their parents to care about dignity…yet there you were, behaving like a perfect empress. Lips pursed and tongue-tied. 
Too bad he wanted to make you scream. 
— You don’t sound begging enough, your Highness. In this room, I only accept pleads. 
His awkwardness washes away as your cunt squeezes him even more, the perverted power play is definitely doing something to your nether regions. He didn’t want to move at first – too satisfied with simply having your warm body here to satisfy his cock but now he can’t help but jolt his hips upwards once in a while, making you squeal and spread even more wetness. He is addicted to the feeling of your body around his – by god, you truly are irresistible. The man who never once touched a woman from his harem filled with aristocrats and richest daughters on the continent is now going mad for a girl whose only prospects are pretending to be a princess. 
Emperor feels like a rabid dog that was thrown a bone. A yearning boy who just saw a glimpse at the naked female form and resructured his whole life around it. A monster whose only goal in life is to snatch any pretty thing he sees. 
He rocks you on his hips, steady hands on your waist. No one suspects anything, but you still grip his hands, still hiss and plead. If you’re only willing to touch him to make him stop…well, then he simply wouldn’t stop. 
— Please, stop…doing this? 
— Doing what?
He stops, however – some of the old men in the court are looking at the two of you, interested to hear whatever you were speaking about. König is glad he switched to your language. König is glad he learned this language before he abducted you – having his recious princess attached to his hip and being the only one she can communicate with is…endearing. Enticing. Just a little bit precious.
— You’re distracting me. 
— Please, my lord…just wait till the end of the meeting. I beg of you. 
— You were doing something important?
You sigh, biting your lips. Trying so hard not to lash out at him, he finds you amusing. Adorable. So precious, he doesn’t know what to do with a pretty thing like you. Perhaps, there is a point in allowing you to rest…as long as you’re behaving, of course. As long as he can trust himself around you. 
He smiles, fighting the urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet aroma. It would mean he’d have to take off his mask and, while he adores you, he can’t quite do that in the presence of duying memorables in his court. Only his most trusted men are allowed to see behind his mask – and of course, the privilege of seeing the emperor being so nice to his wife is something that has to be earned too. As much as he would love to strip you naked and proclaim his love to every single inch of your beautiful form, it would mean sharing the view with the others – and oh, the emperor is too possessive for that. 
Maybe he could order a painting later…after you’re already with an heir, of course. The empire is waiting for him to keep up appearances. Everything for the sake of an heir. Not simply because he fell in love with a peasant girl who is far too perfect to be a maid to some spoiled brat. 
— Very well, Meine Liebe. Since you’re being so kind to your husband.
Husband, husband, husband.
König can’t help but grin. The proclamation of his status feel awkward against your skin, and the old fear and anxieties of his position are catching back to him – but he’d be cursed if he didn’t enjoy the way you’re looking at him while he is saying that. The way your breath would bitch and head spread across your body. There is something about making you embarrassed that he adores – maybe it’s your expressions. You’re a sheltered girl ,after all. Untouched and pure – or was like this before he met you, of course.
The old men are staring at you outright now, their expressions unreadable. König can assume they know what’s going on – an arrogant emperor is feeling too bored with the meeting and decided to use his pretty young wife to entertain himself…and there was this reason, of course. But more than anything else, König wanted to proclaim his undying love. Nothing in this kingdom would make him leave you – not even his duties as an emperor. A cursed being like him doesn’t deserve love but, luckily, you’re not the one to make that choice.
Your pussy is soaked, inviting any action – but he is stopped fully now, taking some documents into his hands as the meeting is dismissed, the advisors are scattering around like rats around his throne. He thinks about ordering a throne for you – something small and elegant, standing so much smaller than his own, no one would ever mix you up as being a politically important person – someone worth killing, that is.
König would order you your own throne, but that would mean you’d stop sitting on his lap so nicely every day he is having meetings with his servants and advisors. It would mean he couldn’t slip his manhood past your lower lips, spread you on his cock, and slowly rock you on his hips before finally filling you up with his semen. You can feel it dripping down your legs, soaking into the fabric of your undergarments and skirts – yet another dress ruined. 
You’re lucky König is civil enough not to simply rip it from your body, finally revealing your chest to his hungry hands and tongue. Oh, how much he would love to enjoy your body while the others can’t do anything but shiver in their pathetic disgust and jealousy. The prettiest woman in the country is his – and if someone would ever try to question if you’re beautiful enough, he will kill them himself.
Once the last advisor gets out of the room, you sigh with relief, your pussy clenching on his cock and painting it with slick. You are getting on your last shreds of patience here – your husband is not a small man, his manhood is enough to make you feel sore after just being in halfway, but the position you’re in made it possible for him to bottom in your precious, fragile body…you can already feel the bump growing in your belly – perhaps with heir, perhaps just with the emperor’s semen, the man who treats you like you’re simply a toy for his pleasure.
— You’re embarrassing me, Your Highness.
You sigh, biting your lips as you stop struggling with your moans. The pleasure ripping from inside of your body was replaced with soft contention – the soft motions of his hips going back and forth, rocking you on his cock as you’d murmur to him softly. He takes one hand to unwrap you from your corset – like presenting himself with a beautiful gift, a precious little pastry stuck in fabric and ribbons. 
— Still, I’m their empress. You shouldn’t…it’s inappropriate. 
You sigh with relief as you’re finally allowed to breathe fully – and you rest your head on his chest, almost ready to fall asleep. He works on documents for a bit more – his cock resting calmly in your folds, fixing his seed in place. You couldn’t care less about the staining, knowing full well that you’d just ask the maids to burn whatever dress was ruined this time. Understanding fully that he would simply buy you new ones – and with warm weather finally approaching, you hope for lighter sets.
— I doubt these relics noticed what we were doing. 
— You’re their empress, ja. And I was just showing them that we’re trying for an heir. The public could get anxious otherwise. 
You laugh dryly. He never failed to remind you of your true place. 
— I should probably visit the doctor then. To know for sure. 
— I don’t want others touching you without a reason. 
— Is an heir not a reason? 
— I don’t need one. 
You laugh again, looking at him with that hateful glint he already got used to. You almost stopped looking at him like that – only reserved for the especially heated moments. Your hatred for him had almost died out, replaced with soft, quiet acceptance. Never being able to run away or kill yourself, you can finally say that there is no way out - and that you can start accepting your role as the glorious empress. A glorified breeding mare. Toy made to be used by König – and the one that he cherishes most. 
— Why then…
— Peasants want a brat on your hip, to know that the nation would thrive. No one cares that I do not intend to die at all. 
He brings a couple of grapes to your mouth, plunging them into your soft lips as you’re trying to shake your head, not having energy to eat anything in your current state. You feel like a decadent pet, getting on his lap and enjoying the attention – but, of course, the attention wasn’t something you sought out. You’d do anything for him to simply stop – but sooner the earth got blown off than König letting you go while you’re looking oh so sweet and delicate, half-naked on his lap. Just like a perfect princess should – and even though your title didn’t mean anything to anyone, you still wanted for at least someone to treat you with respect. Well…looks like this someone would have to be you. 
You open your mouth as he proceeds to feed you – it’s easier to just give in to his whims. You might not like him as much as he wished to, but you know you can tolerate him. Maybe even like him – given the time, of course. And you didn’t have much of it, unfortunately.
— You think I might be with child? 
— I can just stay in the bedroom the whole time. I don’t want public visits. 
König grasps your hip, massaging the soft flesh. He has to break you out of heavy skirts for him to do that – the empire’s fashion changing rapidly as the new empress doesn’t really like killing whales for her skirts. It was an in-door dress, of course, something gentle and flowy – but still, without bone protection and ten skirt layers, you almost feel naked. Without tons of fabric between you and him, you feel trapped – suffocating, even. Gods, this is almost pathetic.
— I’d have to order you new dresses. 
— They don’t even know my name. 
You pout just like a spoiled little princess – and König laughs, feeding you another grape. It doesn’t look like he is so busy with work right now - if anything, he almost looks like stalling, buying his time with the documents while he can enjoy you in an almost not disturbed state. Even though you hate the feeling of dried cum on your thighs, you’re still not quite sure whether you want to call for maids so they could help you with bathing. Somehow, sitting on the emperor’s lap, you almost feel content. Completed. The feeling you only got when you were with the princess…but oh well, looks like you do enjoy serving the loyalty. On your hands and knees, on your back, on your tummy…
— Public needs to see their empress. 
— They might learn in the future. 
— You can’t make me into a princess. I’m not…royal enough. 
You scoff, nuzzling your head against his chest. You can stop resisting him, if only for a second. Trying your best not to sound like you really are angry at him – because you aren’t, not anymore.
You close your eyes, licking your lips. Sighing deeply. 
— You did fool me at first. 
— It wouldn’t work with your advisors. 
— They know better than to argue with me even if they were to suspect something. 
He plays with the meat of your breasts, squeezing and tugging. Smiling smugly as you whine, clearly not wanting him to use you so rudely – but it’s not like you even have a choice on the matter. You learned to enjoy it, some way, somehow. Making it feel like you actually want it – even though you do feel extremely drained. Too drained, to be quite honest. 
But, oh, it was a good day – the best day you could have, probably.
***
In the end, it was the best day you possibly had. 
Mainly because the drink the servant had given you after König finally settled you into the bedroom like you were a cat needing its owner to tuck her in, felt like iron and liquid fire on your tongue.
Mainly because instead of helping you get out of your dress, the servant coldly observed the way you would grasp your throat in a feeble attempt to get the liquid out. 
Mainly because…
Mainly because, as much as König wanted to believe his little captive princess is safe within the castle walls, she is in no way immune to assassinations from the inside. 
Your vision darkens before you can finish.
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