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#The great house
inky-duchess · 1 year
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Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century) - The Lives of The Family
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When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But who lived here and what did their lives too like?
Who are the Family?
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The family are the owners of the house. They are the employers of the servants, the caretakers of the house/estate. Since we're discussing a great house family, they are usually upper-middle class or nobility. A family can consist of a couple and their children but since great houses are so large, sometimes extended family members would live with them such as unmarried aunts or widowed mothers.
Roles Within the Family
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In this era, the gentleman of the house would be the head of the unit, even if his wife holds their title in her right. They were in charge of hearing the troubles of the tenants, they would meet with representatives from the estate, deal with lawyers and other officials. He would often meet with the butler to discuss the household but would not be totally involved in its day to day running.
The lady of the house was heavily usually involved in the running of the household. She would meet with the cook daily to discuss menus, work with the housekeeper to ensure the smoothing run of the house during and outside events, keep an eye on the household accounts, the stock of supplies and the welfare of the servants. She would be in charge of her daughters' education and would will also be heavily involved with the local charities of the region.
Children lived relatively seperate lives from their parents. They would usually be cared for by nannies, nursemaids or governesses. They would eat seperately, sleep in the nursery and usually be left behind while their parents travel for the Season. Sons may be educated outside the house, usually sent off to boarding school. When they are passed their education, they would move out of the house (unless they were the heir, then they may be expected to stay around) and join high society. Daughters would live at the house until they are married. It's common for unmarried daughters to remain in the household as spinsters, even after the death of their parents. Daughters would be educated in the house by their governess and their mother.
The Daily Schedule
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Morning: At 9, the family would be awoken by the arrival of their hot water. Married ladies have the luxury of staying in bed to eat breakfast. Valets and lady's maids would arrive to dress the family after being summoned by the bell. Unmarried women and the men of the house would eat breakfast in the dining room. After breakfast, the couple would withdraw to their business of the day, such as meeting with estate agents or dealing with paperwork. Just before midday, the lady of the house meet chef to discuss menus. The children would go off to their lessons with their governess or tutors. Luncheon would be served at 1. After luncheon, the ladies of the house may travel to appointments such as fittings or paying calls to friends.
Afternoon: Tea would be served around four. After the tea is finished, the children would be brought down to spend time with their parents. With tea finished, the gentleman and lady would finish their work.
Evening: At 8, the butler signals the start of supper giving the family and any staying guests, 15mins or more to get ready. Valets and lady's maids would already be upstairs at this point, helping their master/mistress with dressing. When the family head downstairs, they linger in the drawing room to chat. They would dine together. The ladies would adjourn to the drawing room for coffee and tea while the men stay in the dining room to drink and smoke. When the men have finished, they join the ladies before going up to bed.
Social Aspect of the Great House
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One of the main functions of a great house is society. The family would host gatherings in the off season when they aren't in the city for the social season. If one lives in the country, one might be expected to host relatives on hunting/stalking/fishing holidays. All those extra rooms can be let to guests staying the night. Bachelors would be kept on seperate floor from the unmarried daughters with couples rooming together or side by side. The Great House family is expected to be gracious hosts and spare no expense to their visitors. Servants would have to do many times more work and put up with a lot of nonsense because of the added work load.
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mvaljean525 · 10 months
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The evening empty as a convex coconut split down the seam: not that it can be filled.
The evening empty as a gourd that twists on an iron thread: the rough skin of the sphere.
.            .          .            .           .    
Not that there was a spoken word to recall the moment of seeing the short span when the clocks ceased to revolve and hands met in jest or benediction time of the vortex into which hibiscus and almond trees strayed and windows made of aluminum.
The stars are suddenly remote candescent petals night throws above the yard, the beautiful things.
.             .          .            .           .
The great house is a hotel and a museum of victory
how some lived at the epoch of planters and governors
visible in the paintings the armchairs and gilded glass
articulate artifacts and floors polished by daylight
in a country of green hills and water wheels and wagons
and sun coming out after a rain the labor is hidden that built
the house long ago, and ploughed the land to make it bear fruit
.             .          .            .           .
In British poetry, gentle woodland creatures gaze at the hermit with marble eyes lit from within. A single bird defends the song. Among the pines draped with snow from the whole land only a secret footfall teases the senses awake like white breath on white canvas.
Ideal forms crowd the auditorium. The sky deepens on the surface of a lake, in a cradle of stars. A coppice of isolated birch trees climbs the mountainside to touch the moon's scar, benevolent witness washed of color and fragmentary illuminating the village below.
.             .          .            .           .
In New World poetry, an invisible river runs this way and that. A car(t) eases on a bumpy track over small hills and into shallows. The world is a tangle of leaves. Towards sundown a driver gets out and pushes into the forest, drawn by a noise he cannot identify: perhaps the hiss of water below. It's only the river on its way.
Ideal forms crowd the auditorium things present and things past scattered beneath the poinciana. The car heads into higher country then out into space where fields suddenly lie down beneath the seer cattle pastures and agricultural lands that have always been there watched over by the great house from its hilltop, like a sentinel.
.             .          .            .           .
In British poetry, the forms of desire darken with the change of seasons: green leaves once they fade and turn gold and fall to earth, and make a carpet in the forest, awaiting the rain.
For each season has its sonata. Silence and sound in balance belong to the decline of autumn. In winter the notes are fewer. Silence comes into its kingdom crown of the father, who departs.
The world of white prepares to conquer the earth with silence.
.             .          .            .           .
In British poetry, articulate hues speak as they are visible to the mind audible colors played on a piano primary sounds in an empty forest.
And then above a lake, the moon in motion suspended like a dancer as the music temporarily ceases depriving her body of its rhythm.
.             .          .            .           .
Ideal forms crowd the auditorium. The light of day starts to fade and a mist settles in the valleys. The great house is lit from within.
.             .          .            .           .
As they were, in other windows you want to see their ghosts the slaves, like black posts staggered through the fields. You want to make a picture that shows the strange overlords at intervals watch the misery of torsos laboring to plant and harvest the seas of sugar.
.             .          .            .           .
The green beds of sugar cane extend from here to the hills.
Bright heads grazed by the light of paradise become its negative.
.             .          .            .           .
In time, would the land irritate us as it must have irritated the masters the tropical caress of the air unavoidable getting up each day to see once more the rolling green hills and cattle ponds tranquil in the valleys, the horses collected at the water trough, content to stand or to walk over the grass.
A comely scene worthy of an oil painting (fruit trees dappled with sunlight).
They have escaped from seasons into the monotony of a terrible beauty.
(Who is speaking?)
.             .          .            .           .
Away from the coast the car passes through a shadowy green world of tropical syntax ragged slopes and curves.
.             .          .            .           .
What then was promised by the evening lights that spangled about the hills?
.             .          .            .           .
Endless tall grasses, a landscape composed of variations on a color.
The after-image of elliptical forms transparent as the cry of a seagull.
.             .          .            .           .
A tablet of scripted exclamations:
there, a poinciana with pink blossoms overhangs the road, there a scrawl of fighting tendrils, an indigo grammar of petals offering illumination to fan-shaped pristine hieroglyphs waving to greener punctuations of banana trees and mango, a tangle of writing over writing closed to further interventions. Visible palimpsest of a book without letters the tangle of leaves has no secret key and cannot be deciphered, wordless monads travelling contours of silence.
.             .          .            .           .
Mimesis touches the world with an imperceptible tenderness, only hardly like wind an Aeolian harp.
.             .          .            .           .
There is a point when the sky pivots to face the dawn, to face the dark side of personality, that of a sensible man recanting the mysteries he embraced as a youth, when the angels spoke to him and he ran towards them with arms wide open across a field, beneath the painted stars.
.             .          .            .           .
Say that the world is a drinking glass containing things of the life and language and say that a poet wakes up one morning thinking of capturing for the future those petals inside that glass, broken vowels.
A vase of orchids stands on a kitchen table. Not that it is abstract, or a luminous symbol, nonetheless it is an algebra of forces, like the equations of space-time, which rule outside the mental universe.
As if an image should leave its mirror behind (the thing of which it is but a ghost) like bodiless speech, and yet sensuous, in the way a dream can leave its mark on the dreamer— Esse est percipi, so speaketh the Law.
Wind begins to touch an Aeolian harp. The great house is a place of articulation word calls to other words, in transit. Compelled by the beauty of flowers the mind creates a space for other things.
.             .          .            .           .
(By British I mean Romantic idealist.)
Warm night descends like a cloak. The whistle of tree frogs supplies a melody, and crickets invisible to the moon begin their Parliament.
The birds sleep with their young. The air is otherwise still.
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The Great House in Various Light
Mark McMorris  (B.1960)
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Graphic - Shenfei Chan
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earlchappel74 · 1 year
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Tumbler is beautiful.
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mcapriglione-art · 10 months
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what do you want!!!!!!!!
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the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)
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stars-and-birds · 1 year
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Dana’s last ‘fuck you’ to Disney
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He/they collector
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Genderqueer/bi-gender papa king
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TWO girlfriend kisses
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Onscreen mlm kiss
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Implied aladarius
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a happy ending to the bi/enby couple
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A happy ending to the aro/ace character
And
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Death to the white Christian puritain
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•. A visit in a dream .•
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ginger-by-the-sea · 3 months
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ginger-by-the-sea🦞
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hauntedmoors · 6 months
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this show rules sorry
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mebssann · 1 year
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Amity pestered Principal Bump enough times that he finally allowed Hexside to have a student council
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eraenaa · 12 days
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Birthday Present
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Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader
Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife. 
Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread
Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)
Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.
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You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain. 
You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame. 
“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin. 
“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you. 
“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet. 
A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear. 
“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you. 
Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron? 
“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say. 
You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips. 
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The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls. 
An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you. 
“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control. 
“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.
You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.  
The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing. 
As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching. 
“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home. 
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True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you. 
You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now. 
Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle. 
“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage. 
Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him. 
By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head. 
“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron. 
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They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear. 
“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered. 
“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure. 
“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,”  You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression. 
You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet. 
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All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time. 
You were being escorted down the aisle by your father,  Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife. 
It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips. 
You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more. 
Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. 
“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers. 
You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt. 
“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking. 
“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you. 
Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans. 
“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan. 
“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for. 
You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you. 
It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling. 
“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.
He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”
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spreens · 11 months
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one of my fav things in the qsmp so far are the cultural differences in MINECRAFT. like I thought roier was just being funny when yelling about slime breaking his windows but apparently it's a BIG BIG rule in hispanic series to not break blocks of other people's houses/open doors and the english ccs just go Fuck It We Ball.
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crescentfool · 24 days
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reunion 🌸
#persona 3#persona 3 spoilers#minato arisato#makoto yuki#ryoji mochizuki#aigis#ryomina#lizzy does art#HELLO EVERYONE!!! march 5th is upon us again so i bring... my contribution for this year. my third year drawing for it!#i made the thumbnail for this a few weeks after last year's graduation day#i thought it would be fun to lean into the ryominaigis angle of graduation day (you could read this as minato/aigis if you like-#but i feel like most people would read it as ryoji/minato)#IN ANY CASE working on this made me very emotional over this game :') (specifically minato)#i really enjoy how p3 ends it's such a nice way of wrapping up the narrative's messages and themes#working on this. minato's kindness was at the forefront of my mind throughout the piece#and i really wanted to capture how. ultimately it was his decision to sacrifice himself- to do the great seal#while to an outsider's perspective it is. sad that minato passes. i think becoming the seal is something that minato-#actively welcomes. in the same way that death (ryoji) is a comfort to him because death was housed in him for Ten YearsTM#AND I ALSO GOT REALLY SAD OVER AIGIS TOO. i still get fucked up over how in fes's animated cutscene for 3/5 they portray-#her as human and not drawing the robot parts so i wanted to do something smilar here...#but also i am very sad on aigis's behalf because she discovers her humanity through minato and realizes what she-#wants to do and then. well. minato is like. he's ready to pass on (even if he's scared) and im like. OH MY GOD THIS TRIO GETS ME MESSED UP#this was more coherent in my head LOL BUT ough i like drawing p3 and working through my feelings about it...#anyway! happy (in quotations) march 5th. i love this game to bits. it's so fun to draw for this day every year and see how i've improved#if you've read all this thank you :) lizzy appreciates you all very much. mwah! <3
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iero · 2 months
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BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE —Paramore x A24 (x)
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nerdpoe · 6 months
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Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.
They all wake up in the haunted house.
Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.
No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.
Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.
In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.
The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.
So.
Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.
There's a note with a smiley face.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.
And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.
Then it disappears.
In it's place, there's a note.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.
Batman isn't there.
Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.
"Never thought you'd fall for that~"
The door slams shut.
Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.
The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.
In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.
The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.
The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.
They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.
The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.
There's a note at his feet.
His lips quirk up against his will.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.
He knows it.
He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.
He wanted it to be a family outing.
But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.
Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!
"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."
The air itself seems to pause.
"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."
Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.
"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."
"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."
"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"
@simplestoryteller
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mikimeiko · 5 months
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The Fall of the House of Usher | Miniseries (2023), Mike Flanagan
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