#from that one ministry scene in the books

[serverusslaype]

Shameless AU - Jealousy

Severus Snape x professor!reader one-shot

Masterpost & other things!

guys remember i asked about whether you'd be interested in a jealous scene? well, i chose to do it in an AU sort of thing, where reader is a Slytherin instead. so special thanks to @caster-of-puppets for that idea! this isn't long, it's just a little one-shot, but yeah. i wrote this a while ago and i decided to finish it just now after my brain said no to writing part 15 fml. i just couldn't think of how to start it.

so, i hope you enjoy this. :)

warnings: slightly nsfw near the end, so minors, please, DNI!!

Dinner had just finished, and most of the students had filed out of the hall, apart from a few stragglers. You, Ben and Flitwick were currently engaged in a conversation, though, it was moreso just Ben and Flitwick talking. You had zoned out a while ago, the constant drone of Ben bragging about his Ministry job was enough to send you to sleep. It was surprising that Flitwick hadn't made some sort of excuse to drop out of the conversation to save his sanity, perhaps he enjoyed such dull and tedious chatter.

As you stood beside Ben, your hands were clasped together in front of you, bored eyes darting aimlessly around the Great Hall. You found yourself admiring the stone statues, until Ben's hand curled around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers sitting dangerously close to where Severus's fingers had been that night. Your muscles stiffened slightly at the sudden touch.

All of a sudden, a creeping feeling of being watched climbed up your spine, and within seconds, your confused eyes were searching around the Great Hall, soon landing on a pair of very familiar, deep, dark ones. They burned into you a thousand hot needles, setting your skin ablaze.

There he stood, lingering beside a rambling Filch with hands tucked behind his back, sharp eyes determinedly stuck on you like a glue trap, darting down towards the hand that tightened around your waist. His face was pale, daunting and almost frightening with the way he was glaring at the two of you with deathlike eyes.

Was he... jealous?

You daringly decided to test the waters. With a tilt of your head, you kept your curious eyes on Severus and leant into Ben, allowing your hands to unclasp themselves and rest atop of Ben's one. Immediately, Severus's jaw twitched and his fists balled beneath the dramatic waterfall of his black cloak. A tiny, cheeky smile picked at the corners of your lips as you relished in his reaction, a warm, tingling sensation pooling in your stomach. Was it toxic that you were getting off on this? Perhaps.

You glanced back to Flitwick, shuffling in your spot as you offered him a kind smile, your eyes darting back to where Severus had stood. Though, only Filch remained. You frowned. Shit, did that piss him off? No, surely not, he knows you only want him, and not Ben... right?

"Um, excuse me, I'll be back in a bit." You said with a forced smile, glancing between Ben and Flitwick. They quickly returned it, still deeply invested in conversation. You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the pair. Seriously, is a job at the Ministry that interesting? Jesus.

Slinking away with a huff, you slipped out through the door in the corner of the Hall, shutting it quietly. Before you were even five steps down the corridor, a rough hand latched onto your arm and pulled you into a shadowed corner, your back slamming against the stone wall. That well-known scent of sweet wine, smoke and fresh books surrounded you, and you instantly knew who had dragged you aside.

Severus stepped in front of you, his black cloak sweeping behind him. Those large, unyielding hands held your arms captive beside your torso as his wicked black eyes burned into yours furiously. You suddenly felt incredibly short in his presence.

"Do you think you're clever, acting like that in front of me?" Severus's deep voice rumbled through you, his fingers squeezing around your arms in a vice-like grip.

"Like what?" You asked, voice quiet and soft, painting an innocent expression upon your face. Severus's lip twitched irritatingly at your answer, and he stepped forwards so your bodies were touching.

"You know exactly what you were doing, you stupid girl," Severus whispered harshly, pushing his face impossibly close to yours. His hot breath tickled your cheeks, and you found yourself blushing, a pretty shade of crimson blossoming across your soft cheeks.

"So what if I was?" You whispered back, your twinkling eyes fixed to his.

"You're dancing on a very dangerous and thin line, Miss L/N." Severus uttered, tongue clicking as he stared down at you, nostrils flaring as his breaths became more desperate and ragged.

"Am I?" You taunted him, inching your face forwards, grazing your nose against his. You heard his breath hitch, and it sent an excited shiver speeding down your spine. A mischievous, toothy grin spread across your face at his lack of control.

"You're much too bold for a girl of your age." He muttered and swallowed thickly, evidently trying to get ahold of his 

"Maybe you're just losing your touch, professor." You whispered, shifting your head so your lips were beside his ear; teeth scraping against his lobe tantalisingly. A muffled and broken groan caught in his throat. Severus hated to admit it, but something about you calling him by his title made his stomach hot. "Cat got your tongue, Severus?" You blinked slowly as you brought your head back from the side of his face, dilated eyes staring up into his heavy-lidded ones. Evidently, he was slowly losing control.

"Hush," Severus hissed, pressing a hand over your mouth. You couldn't help but feel a tad turned on by it. "I can't bear to hear you say one more thing."

Slowly, you reached a hand up, prying his fingers from your lips, "And why's that, professor?" You purred. He growled at the name, slipping his hand behind your head, greedily burying his fingers in the locks of your hair. The softness of it made him groan, and suddenly, he was imagining what it'd be like to fuck you with a fistful of your hair. Perhaps you'd listen then.

Severus clenched his jaw, "I'm not sure you'd like my answer." He said lowly, almost like a warning. His black eyes flicked over your soft features, silently admiring you. He'd never witnessed such beauty, and he sure as hell wasn't going to miss the opportunity to drink you in like a delicious wine.

"Try me." You whispered and lifted a hand to grab at the edge of his cloak, tugging him towards you as if to encourage him. And if that wasn't enough, you boldly stood on the tips of your toes to press a light kiss to his jaw.

Severus was teetering on the edge of a very bad decision, and the fact that you had your hands on him wasn't helping his case - it felt as if you were right behind him, pushing him, desperately trying to make him fall off of it. In all his years of practicing self-discipline and control, never had he come across such a tempting and alluring individual such as yourself. Severus felt as if you were some sort of test - perhaps this was all in his imagination.

"You know you want to," you purred again, pressing your parted lips upon his jawbone, "show me what Severus Snape is truly capable of." Teasingly, you nipped at his pale skin with your teeth, and that grounded the wizard. No, no, this was most definitely real.

Before you could pull your head away from his, Severus crashed his lips against yours hungrily, and you melted into his touch like an ice cream left in the sun. He had you pressed against the stone wall, lips locked with yours in an intense, fiery fight. A large, cool hand flew to your hip and pulled you against his strong body. Despite being dressed, you could feel every outline of his figure, and you couldn't help but selfishly reach a hand down to feel his torso. Severus groaned at your touch, and it felt like his body was on fire.

He needed you, and now.

He had to force himself to pull his lips off of yours, and you reluctantly obliged, your eyes opening and gazing up at his like a lost, lovesick puppy. "My office. Now." Severus ordered breathlessly as his hand slid up from your hips to your arm, his fingers wrapping around it with a tight grip. He tugged you along with him as he suddenly set off into a quick walk.

"Look how eager you are," you cooed tauntingly, a smirk growing on your lips as you let Severus lead you, "I knew you'd cave. So weak." That crude smirk turned into a proud grin, though it was quickly dropped as Severus whipped around, his black hair swishing with him.

You gasped as you were shoved backwards, hitting the wall with a soft thud. It wasn't a hostile shove, but rather a show of dominance from Severus - which was rather unusual. Apparently, you brought out the hidden, dark side to him. Something you were very, very eager to see and experience.

A bashful smile crept onto your lips as you gazed up at Severus with wide eyes, far from scared. This should have enraged him, however, it intrigued him instead. His eyes narrowed into thin slits as he glowered down at you with a scowl, a tempting tingle settling between your legs.

Severus leaned down, pushing his face into yours, and you tilted your head downwards slightly though still keeping eye contact. "I'm going to ruin that audacious, pretty little mouth of yours." He muttered with a wicked promise, lifting a hand to grasp your jaw, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched at his touch. "Perhaps then you'll learn when to speak." Severus tutted, pausing for a moment to glide his fingers down your neck, eliciting a shiver of goosebumps to litter your burning skin.

Without further ado, Severus's hand returned to your arm, and he tugged you away again, in the direction of his office. You were sure that after he had his way with you, you'll have learned a lot more than just learning when to speak...

[da-rulah]

I hope you are having a wonderful day.

I humbly request some jealous cardi spice ♡

Thank you lovely! My day is going well, I've done nothing today other than write this filth.

So, listen... An idea came to me with this one... and I ran with it. I bloody love jealous tropes, as you may know if you've read Day 5 of Rituale Septem... But this one gets a little... sacrilegious.

Darling, this became feral. And I'm not sorry.

18+ MDNI! Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader.

TW/ Jealous themes (ofc), ex-boyfriend returns, mentions of past life in a christian church, violence, blood, fingering, rough sex, references to Satan and the Devil, possessiveness, breeding kink, ownership kink, creampie.

"Are. You. Mine?" artwork created by the incredibly talented @honimello!

Thank you so much, it's incredible and exactly how I pictured Copia's face in that scene...

If any artists are ever inspired by anything I write, please please do share it with me - I'd love to see what your mind's eye sees when reading my work. And this fandom is full of incredible talent. I love it here.

Frantic knocking on the door to Papa's quarters jolted you from the trance your book in hand had you in. Copia had been drifting off, his gloved fingers mindlessly playing with your hair as you read in his lap but he too startled to sit upright.

In a fumble of clumsy limbs, the two of you stood, Papa heading straight for the door to find Rain out of breath and panicked.

"Rain? What's the matter, mio amico?" Papa asked, waiting patiently for him to get his breath back. Clearly he had run as fast as he could to find Papa.

"Th-there's... a man... he's shouting about Sister ______ on the steps of the Ministry, Papa!" he explained frantically, waving his arm in the direction of the front doors.

Your eyes widened, Papa's head flinging around to look back at you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut. You know who it was... He'd found you.

"I-I'll go... I'll take care of it," you said, stepping around Copia and walking a little ways out into the hall when he grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

"What's going on?" he asked, "This sounds dangerous, why don't you let me..."

"He's not dangerous. He's just an idiot. I'll deal with it," you told him firmly. "Stay."

Copia let go of your arm and you continued to walk down the hall. He nodded in your direction at Rain, telling him to follow you and make sure you were in fact safe. Rain nodded and trotted behind you - you didn't mind him being your backup, but it was Copia you wanted to keep away from the situation.

As you got closer to the doors, you could hear the ramblings of the idiot on the Ministry steps, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"_________! Hey, I know you're in there! I know what they've done... They've stolen you away, told you lies and made you fall in love with the devil!"

You groaned to yourself, turning to Rain with an eye roll.

"Ex-boyfriends, eh?" you scoffed, before wrenching the door open and standing on the top step.

"Elijah, you sound like an idiot," you said, monotonous and feigning boredom.

"Oh, see? I knew you were here! Cavorting with heathens and the Devil! I need to take you home, _______. To bring you back to God!"

You knew your past in a Christian community would come back to bite you on the ass someday, but you'd hoped to be a little more prepared for it.

But no, here was your ex-boyfriend, now more religious than you'd ever known him when you were together, trying to... win you back? That was laughable.

"God only knows what you do within those walls... Filthy fornication, sacrifices to Satan..."

"That's rich, Elijah. I seem to remember you had no problem with fornication when we were together. But hey, one rule for you, another for the rest isn't it?" you laughed. Elijah saw read, stomping up the steps and standing on the one beneath you.

"I have seen the error of my ways, and I'm repenting every day for them, whore! You must do the same, come with me. Now!" he grabbed your arm, attempting to drag you down the steps and go back to the life you'd left behind many moons ago.

No way in hell were you going back there again.

You began kicking and yelling at him, flailing your arms as you panicked - he was strong, but Rain was behind you. No doubt he'd be jolted into action as he saw you being dragged away by this lunatic.

"I think you'd better let her go," a thickly-accented voice behind you stopped Elijah in his tracks, his head snapping around to look behind where you both were halfway down the steps.

Papa stood at the top, his hands behind his back and surrounded by three of his beefiest Ghouls - and Sodo. But Sodo was growling like the feral little raccoon he was.

"Or what, old man? You gonna take her from me?" Elijah challenged, pulling you against him with you back against his chest. He was scared, using you as a human shield. Pathetic. "She doesn't belong here, in this... this... vile place."

Copia laughed, stepping down the steps and holding a hand out to his side to keep his Ghouls at bay. He pried Elijah's hands off you, taking your hands in his and checking you were okay.

"Go wait up there with Rain, amore mio," he told you, his voice soft and his palm caressing your cheek to calm you. You nodded under his touch and headed back up to the top of the stairs, the Ghouls parting to let you stand behind them for safety. Rain came to your side, holding your hand.

Copia squared up to Elijah then, in a way you'd never seen him square up to anybody. He scared you, with how silent and yet, clearly livid he was.

"You're not taking her anywhere, stronzo." His voice was dark and commanding.

"Oh, I get it now..." Elijah began to laugh, cackling to himself as he doubled over at something so hilariously amusing to only him. "Are you... are you fucking him?" he asked you, pointing at Copia and dismissing him. "This weird, old guy? Really?"

You wanted to defend Copia, but the way he looked over his shoulder at you had you staying put and squeezing on Rain's hand.

"She's found her place here, able to live a life where she's not judged and vilified for living her fucking life. You people are all the same.. damning souls to Hell for the things you wish you allowed yourself to do. But oh no, they're sins, eh? You couldn't possibly..." Copia scoffed.

"I have sinned in the past, but I repented. I sinned plenty," Elijah's voice dropped so only Papa could hear, "I sinned with her..."

Copia's hands balled into fists at his side. Jealousy, no matter how warranted, flooded his veins like poison.

"I remember, too... I know what she likes, what she's into. Have you found that spot on her collarbone yet? She likes that..." Elijah was smirking, and you didn't like the look on his face as he whispered in Copia's ear. Copia remained still, fists clenched and staring straight ahead.

"I was her first, you know... Gave her her first orgasm, made her cum over and over... Can you do that, old man? One night with me again, and she'd forget your name if it was tattooed on her arm. She'll always be mine..."

A green mist descended in Copia's mind, and he couldn't help himself. He swung for Elijah, his fist connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack.

The Ghouls sprang into action when Elijah pounced on Copia, shoving him to the floor and trying to get a few punches in himself, but Copia was too strong for him. A man you thought would never hurt a fly, wouldn't be able to hold his own in a fight on account of his own awkwardness and his tender nature and yet... you were seeing a whole new, angry side to him. And it made your chest tighten, knowing he was fighting for you...

The Ghouls sprang into action, quickly restraining Elijah and dragging him to the parking lot around the side of the front building to the Ministry. You saw them throw him into the back of a van, two of them and Sodo joining him in the back whilst the remaining Ghoul got in the driver's seat.

You ran to Copia's side where he stood up, dusting himself off.

"Copia! Fucking hell, are you alright?" you asked, your hands pulling his face to look at you but he couldn't look you in the eye. Instead, he gripped your wrists in his and pulled you back up the steps, marching you back to his quarter's and ignoring Rain's protests he should go to the infirmary for the blood dripping from his forehead and lip.

You tried to slow him down, to tell him to stop and breathe but he ignored everything you said to him until he had you back in his living room, slamming the door behind him. He let you go, practically throwing you into the middle of the room as he stalked towards you with dark, hungry eyes.

'C-Copia... what did he say to you?" you asked him, terrified he was now angry at you for some lies Elijah may have told.

"You're mine, sí?" he asked, his voice deep and forced through grit teeth.

"W-what?" you asked; how could he ask that of you. He knew you were, body and soul.

"Are. You. Mine?" he asked, slowly. You took a step back.

"Of course I am!" you yelled, "Copia your head, your lip... Let me clean you up, okay? Just... Just take a breath, calm down," you told him, taking another step back as he took one towards you.

He ignored you, backing you up until your legs hit the couch behind you. He was in your space now, glowering down at you. The look in his eyes both terrified and excited you. With such a dark expression, the blood from his lip and forehead only served to add a menacing and yet, enticing air of danger to your predicament.

"Calm down? I am calm, amore mio. Why wouldn't I be calm, eh?" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Copia, please..." you lift your hand to caress his cheek, trying to check the damage to his lip and head but he catches your wrist in a tight grip, earning a gasp from you.

"I am a better man than him, sí?" he asked. You creased your brow in confusion for a minute, before remembering to answer him. Every millisecond of silence his grip on your wrist tightened.

"Y-yes, of course you are. Copia, you're scaring me..." Only half true, of course. He was absolutely a better man than Elijah ever was, and you were only... slightly scared in that moment.

"I love you more than he ever could, sí?" he asked.

"Y-you do, yes. And I love you, so much..." you told him, trying desperately to get him to just calm down, to snap out of whatever hex he was under.

"And..." he steps forward again, his foot between both yours as he presses his thigh between your legs. You can feel his hip against you, his groin pressing into your own hip bone. Was he... hard? "I fuck you better than he ever could, sí?"

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you stuttered an incoherent response. You hate to admit it but his anger was having an effect on you; his jealousy. Whatever Elijah had said to him, it must have riled him up enough to make him jealous in some way. And honestly, the thought of Copia being jealous should have had you angry at him, because how could he be jealous of that asshole?

But instead, it lit a furnace inside you. This incredibly powerful, wonderful man, who would rearrange the nine circles of Hell for you if only you asked, was jealous for you.

"Answer me," he growled, and you stammered again, unable to form a two words to string together. He took your silence as a no; severely misinterpreting the situation.

"Perhaps you need reminding, amore mio?" Copia grabbed your other arm and twisted you to the side, pushing you down to the couch with your back shoved into the corner. He knelt between your spread thighs, hands on the arm and backs of the couch and hovering above you.

"Ti scoperò finché non dimenticherai che quel tuo dio infernale ha mai fatto parte della tua vita, (I'll fuck you until you forget that that infernal God of yours was ever a part of your life)," he growled, his jealousy and anger at your past life bubbling away inside him. You didn't know enough Italian to know what he'd sad, but you recognised enough to know he was growling about God in your life? Whatever it was, it sent a flood of arousal to your core.

Before you knew it, his lips were pushed bruisingly hard against your own. You could taste the metallic pang of blood on your lips, but you had no room to care at that point. You let him consume you, his tongue working against your own with no contest as your gripped onto the lapels of his tattered jacket.

Copia's hands came to grip onto your habit either side of the buttons, and with one sharp tug he ripped it open, the buttons pinging off in different directions. he pulled again, lower, exposing your body to him where you lay.

You felt so desperate already, needy beneath him as you scrambled to push his jacket off him, then pulling on the knot of his blue neck tie and lifting that over his head with a brief separation of his punishing kiss.

Like he had to you, you pulled on either side of his shirt to try and rip it open, but you simply weren't strong enough. Copia chuckled, sitting up between your legs.

"My poor toppolina, let me help, hm?" he mocked, before ripping into his own shirt in one fell swoop. You ran your hands over his chest, marvelling at the structure of a well exercised man, his chest covered in an expanse of salt and pepper speckled chest hair. You traced the '666' over his heart, earning you a low growl from him.

"His mark, toppolina... You pledged yourself to Him now, sí? And to me..." You had, yes. Completely.

Before you could reply his lips were on yours again, licking and sucking at your bottom lip, biting down and earning a whimper from you. You bucked your hips against his thigh, already beginning to soak through the panties on display to him.

He noticed the damp patch, and his head twitched with a smirk. Without hesitation he was ripping them down your thighs and pulling them off your legs, exposing your glistening folds to him.

He swirled his gloved fingers through the mess a few times, before immediately sliding his ring and middle finger inside you. You took him with pleasure, back arching from the couch and a moan ripping from your throat.

"Tell me, amore mio, who makes you see stars every time he touches you, eh?" he taunted, hovering above you as you writhed, his fingers pumping and curling inside you bringing you so much bliss already.

"Y-you do, Copia... Fuck," you gasped when his thumb came to draw circles over your clit. "Don't stop, please..." you begged.

He had no intention of stopping, dragging you further and further towards a climax until finally, the gasp rising in your chest got stuck, and your orgasm burst inside you.

"C-Copia!" you stuttered a scream, hands flying to grip onto his wrist while his hand continued it's onslaught on your core until he was satisfied he'd got every ounce of pleasure from your orgasm as possible.

Your grip on him loosened as you came back down, and he took this as his chance to manhandle you, flipping you over onto your knees and bent over the corner of the couch lazily. When you gazed dreamily behind you, still hazy from your orgasm, you saw him unlacing the front of his tattered pants, pushing them down just enough to release his cock. He leant forward, gripping onto your hip with one hand and lining his length up with your folds with the other. He dragged the tip of his cock - an angry shade of red and leaking precum - through your juices.

"You're mine, amore mio," he growled through grit teeth, his bare chest pressed against the habit he'd bunched up around your hips, "I claim you as such."

In one swift motion, he slid home, filling you to the brim as his hips came into contact with your ass. He grunted when he bottomed out, the warmth of your inner walls sending a pleasurable shiver through his body.

Before long his hips were smacking into your ass over and over, his cock filling you deliciously while he angled himself to hit your g-spot over and over again. The slew of nonsense tumbling from your lips had him chuckling to himself between deep breaths as he exerted himself.

"So good you can't even talk, amore mio? Sí, no one can fuck you like I can, eh?" he taunted. "Say it. Say 'no one can fuck me like you can, Papa'!" he ordered.

"No one... can... fuck me... like you... Papa!" you cried, his titled coming out as a scream at a particularly hard thrust.

"Mine... you're all mine," he claimed, "Gonna fill you up, amore mio... Give you my seed to carry, make sure everyone sees you and knows you're claimed."

If his thrusts weren't already enough, his words were turning you on above and beyond anything he'd ever said to you before. Whilst you were your own person, and proudly so, you couldn't help the way hearing how possessive he was in this moment made you clench on his length.

"G-gonna... cum... Papa!" you yelled again, dangling on the edge, just a little too far from where you needed to be. He sensed you needed a nudge, his hand snaking around between the both of you and his fingertips rubbing over your sensitive clit once again.

"You'd like that hm? If Papa fucked you so hard, filled you so much with his seed everyone could see it? Everyone would know... They'd know I'd bred you so good, amore mio..." He was spewing utter filth, and it was having the desired effect on you...

"Papa..." you cried.

"Papa's here, amore... Papa's fucking you so good, eh? Fucking the damn antichrist into you!" he growled.

You lost control then, your cunt spasmed around him as you violently came around his length. He wrapped his arms around your chest, heaving you back against him with a hand gripping your chin. His hips continued to rut into you, fucking you through your orgasm as you gasped and reached for something, anything...

"That's it, eh? So good for me, cumming on Papa's cock like that... Just for me, hm?"

All you could do was whimper weakly as your body spasmed in his grasp. He held you so tightly against him, owning you, fucking into you over and over as he whispered filth into your ear you could barely pay attention to in your haze.

Before long, he was moaning wantonly in your ear and stuttering in his pace, a sure fire sign he was about to finish. With a little more clarity now, you figured you'd help him along.

"I-I'm yours, Papa..." you told him, "Devoted to you... Cum inside me, Papa. M-mark me... as yours..."

A fierce growl erupted from his chest, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tightened his grip, hips slowing but remaining powerful in a final few thrusts to prolong his climax. He filled you with his spend, so much you could hear the way it leaked from you with every last thrust he gave.

When he stilled, he buried himself deep and stayed put, tumbling onto the couch with you in his arms and holding you still so close to him. You stayed like that for a while, content being full of him and wrapped up in him all at the same time. Both of you needed a moment, just to catch your breath and come down from the immense high you'd experienced together.

After a while, Copia began to press kisses to your neck, little hisses in pain each time he did where his lip was bust and swollen. The blood on his head had dried but now the ache of the wound was starting to set in.

You turned your head back to him, assessing the damage finally and sighing.

"You should let me help with that," you told him softly. He nodded quietly, both of you now moving and separating from each other. Killing two birds with one stone, you decided a shower for the pair of you was the best idea, and so you both removed the remaining clothes you had on and stepped under the hot water together.

In a comfortable silence, you washed the blood and paints from his face, dabbing at the wounds while he took care of washing you too. You felt the stark contrast between the way he'd taken you earlier and the tenderness of this moment; in their own ways both made you feel wanted, loved, needed.

"Copia..." you whispered to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and stepping into him. "You know I'm yours, don't you?"

You hoped he really did, part of you was terrified he doubted your loyalty to him in any way at all.

"Of course, amore mio... And I'm yours," he told you, wrapping his arms around you too and enjoying the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. "Perdonami, I fear I was too rough, eh?" he chuckled insecurely.

"Not at all... I can't pretend it wasn't hot as hell to see a side of you so angry at the idea of me being with anyone else..." you smirked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, just above his '666' mark.

"That stronzo... I can't believe you dated that fucker," he scoffed, pushing your wet hair from your forehead.

"A past life, my love. I was under a spell back then..." you sighed. He hummed in thought.

"And now, you're under mine..." he smirked. You giggled happily as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a far sweeter, tender kiss.

[thestephanieflora]

If Snape was using Occlumency to shield his mind from Voldemort, why didn’t Voldemort become suspicious that Snape was hiding something since he couldn’t penetrate his mind with Legilimency?

It’s because Snape did something far cleverer than merely “shielding his mind” from Lord Voldemort.

As one can make out from their interactions, Snape seemed to be the only Death Eater whom Voldemort ever had any modicum of respect for. You don’t merit Lord Voldemort’s esteem by being incompetent or stupid. Snape clearly earned his spot as Voldemort’s most revered servant by proving himself and being the asset that he was.

See, Snape never lied to Voldemort. Snape knew that Voldemort’s skill in Legillemency would immediately alert him to duplicity, so instead, Snape only told Voldemort the truth.

When Voldemort first returned, Snape justified his initial absconding from the Death Eaters by saying that he thought Voldemort had been vanquished in Godric’s Hollow. In The Prince’s Tale, we learn that this is actually true. Snape thought Voldemort had gone, and it was only Dumbledore who insisted that he would one day return. Later, he told Bellatrix that Voldemort forgave him for impeding him in his plot to purloin the Philosopher’s Stone because he did not know Voldemort was the mastermind behind the enterprise, and only thought that “unworthy” Professor Quirrell (whom Snape hated for getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher position) was trying to take the Stone for himself. Again, this turns out to be completely true.

Snape then spent 2 years “spying” on Dumbledore, and relayed what little he knew of the Headmaster’s activities to Voldemort. Dumbledore chose to keep Snape in the dark on most of his plots, which was actually (justifiably I might add) a source of great frustration for Snape. Then he killed Dumbledore just as Voldemort wanted.

Before the Battle of the Seven Potters, Snape gave Voldemort the correct date of Harry’s departure from Little Whinging. He correctly pointed out that Yaxley had been given a false trail, and truthfully divulged that the Order of the Phoenix distrusted the Ministry and the Auror office and wanted nothing to do with the institution. Re-read the scene from The Dark Lord Ascending in the books and pay close attention to the description of Voldemort’s body language. He hangs on to every word Snape says with great interest, and invites Snape to sit by his side. Meanwhile he ignores and then silences Yaxley (whom he shunts beside Dolohov), and expresses contempt for the Malfoys and Bellatrix by humiliating them. But Snape he holds in far higher regard, arguably valuing him more than anyone save for his beloved Nagini.

Voldemort was quite correct in recognizing Snape as an impressively talented and exceptionally intelligent wizard. He just never calculated that Snape’s cunning could be used against him. Even if Voldemort had decided to raid Snape’s mind, he would’ve found little of interest. Snape’s love for Lily Potter was already known to Voldemort (and he foolishly underestimated it, just as he did with Lily’s love for Harry), and the fact that he spent a great deal of time scheming with Dumbledore would not have perturbed Voldemort, but would’ve pleased him. That was literally the job that Snape was given; to earn Dumbledore’s trust and spy on him, and then relay his plans to Voldemort.

Snape’s deception of Voldemort is honestly one of the most underrated feats in the entire series, not necessarily because it was magically impressive (although it was), but because it was carried out so cleverly. As was made clear by his potion riddle all the way back in Philosopher’s Stone, Snape’s greatest talent was his cleverness, which so many wizards seem to lack. Hermione was quite right in recognizing Snape’s genius.

Snape fooled Voldemort with the truth, not with lies. That’s how he got away with it for so long.

Our Snapey has the brightest mind in the entire series, period. 🖤

[exilepurify]

“You know a lot of big words.” — Determining Shigeo’s Kanji Literacy

An analysis in four parts:

Jouyou kanji and Japan’s compulsory education system, explained.

An introduction to the analysis—what I did and why I did it.

A presentation of data, evidence, and counterarguments.

The truth revealed: can Shigeo write a reasonable amount of kanji for his age group?

Jouyou kanji and Japan’s compulsory education system, explained

Let us begin this analysis by establishing a basic understanding of how Japan’s education system is structured.

As you may already know, only elementary school and middle school are compulsory in Japan, meaning that high school and college are completely optional. Therefore, compulsory education in Japan consists of grades 1-9, with grades 1-6 being 小学校 (primary school) and grades 7-9 being 中学校 (middle school).

The term 「常用漢字」(jouyou kanji, “Daily-Use Kanji”) refers to a list of 2136 kanji that the Japanese Ministry of Education requires be taught throughout education grades in Japan due to their importance and frequency of use in Japanese daily life. Knowing all 2136 is defined by the Japanese government as the baseline for basic, functional literacy in Japanese. The jouyou kanji list is further divided into two sub-categories: 「教育漢字」(kyouiku kanji, “Education Kanji”) and 「中学・高校漢字」(chuugaku • koukou kanji, “Secondary School Kanji”).

教育漢字 (kyouiku kanji, “Education Kanji”) (A.K.A. 学年別漢字配当表 [gakunenbetsu kanji haitouhyou, “list of kanji by school year”]) is the Japanese term for the 1006 kanji that are taught over the 6 years of primary school in Japan, grouped into different grade levels by difficulty and complexity.

「中学・高校漢字」(chuugaku • koukou kanji, “Secondary School Kanji”) is the term for the 1130 kanji that students are expected to learn throughout middle school and high school. This list of kanji is not strictly divided by grade level, though a general grade level is often provided, because students in secondary school—whether it be middle or high—are expected to learn kanji more independently. Though the responsibility of learning these kanji is shifted from the classroom to the individual, the importance of knowing these kanji by the end of one’s education, if that be middle school or high school, cannot be overstated. Once again, these 2136 kanji are considered the basics of Japanese kanji fluency.

According to the “Kanji Frequency Number Survey/漢字頻度数調査” conducted by the National Cultural Affairs Division in 2000, in 385 books published by a major publishing company, 8474 different kanji were used (not including duplicates). However, speakers are able to understand 99% of them if they know the top 2457 kanji, and 99.9% of them if they know the top 4208 kanji. And as is true for speakers of every other language, people can generally read more words than they can write.

I determined the “grade level” of each kanji in this analysis according to the grade level provided in my Japanese-English dictionaries, but consideration will be made for Secondary School Kanji due to the lack of official grade divisions and the less organized circumstances involved with learning them.

An introduction to the analysis—what I did and why I did it

In this analysis, I focused specifically on Shigeo’s ability to write kanji, not to read them. This is most obviously because it’s much harder to determine whether or not someone can actually read something, especially in anime, without it being explicitly mentioned. However, it is also because the meaning of kanji can be inferred from knowing the meaning of radicals, and as mentioned above, it is common for people to be able to read more words than they can write. The true mark of knowing a kanji is being able to write it.

To determine Shigeo’s kanji-writing ability, I studied screenshots from a few scenes from the anime, specifically a couple of scenes from the Reigen OVA where Shigeo is writing a LOT, and a couple scenes from the regular anime where Shigeo is explicitly seen writing stuff down and the audience is shown the writing.

The data has been organized into two different excel charts—one for kanji he uses correctly, and one for kanji he doesn’t know or messes up. The kanji in each of these charts have been color-coded and organized by grade level, with readings, translations, and explanations provided. There is only one kanji in the entire analysis that is not considered a part of the jouyou kanji, and this kanji has been marked by “N/A” in the grade level section.

I will provide each chart alongside a percentage likelihood that Mob will know any given kanji from each grade level based on the information gathered from the anime. Please note that the sample size is obviously limited, but I’m working with what I have. If there is a kanji with some sort of detail worth consideration, I’ve marked it with a (**) in the chart and will explain below.

Lastly, I included kanji used in names in the chart here after some deliberation. Name kanji are tricky in general, because multiple kanji share the same pronunciation and people usually don’t know what kanji are used in someone’s name unless they are shown by that person (unless it’s some crazy common name like 高田 or 森 or 田中).

A presentation of data, evidence, and counterarguments.

Shigeo’s known kanji:

Shigeo’s unknown kanji:

IMPORTANT NOTE: There are one or two instances of Shigeo NOT using a kanji at all that I’ve decided not to include on the chart. This is because it is common for Japanese speakers to omit kanji for super common verbs and write them in kana instead, either for personal style reasons or for convenience. Since the verbs are so fundamental and commonly-used, it’s unlikely that they will be misunderstood or mistaken for another word if written in kana. So, if Shigeo wrote the verb for “to read” or “to eat” without using kanji, I didn’t include it, as I highly highly highly doubt he doesn’t know those kanji and I felt like it would unfairly skew the results against him.

米** = I don’t blame Shigeo for not knowing this kanji. It’s fair to assume that Mob might not have seen Mezato’s name written out and therefore wouldn’t know which kanji to use. On TOP of that, “me” for 米 is a special nanori (used for names only) reading and is super obscure and uncommon. I couldn’t even find it in my name dictionary by searching “Mezato”, I had to find her name written in kanji in S1E3 and go from there. I wouldn’t expect this kanji to be in anyone’s top ten possible kanji guesses for the “me” in “mezato”. I included it because rules are rules, but wanted to mention this to make it fairer on the boy.

世** = I want to make it known that Shigeo does successfully write this kanji in the image shown here, when he writes 「世紀」(century):

HOWEVER. However. He messed it up SO BAD before that I think it actually overpowers him using it correctly and brings it back around to a “not properly known” kanji, especially because it’s a kanji taught in second grade that he shouldn’t be messing up at all:

The subtitles intersect it but I’ve rewritten what Shigeo wrote there at the bottom. He tried to write 「世の中には」”In the world…”, but tried to write the kanji, messed up, crossed it out, and then rewrote it in kana. Didn’t even try to write it a second time. This is egregious and, in my juror’s power, cancels out his later usage. This would be like misspelling “world” in English. I’m willing to entertain arguments that he just wanted to write it in kana for some reason, but as it is now, I don’t think that excuse is compelling enough against such damning evidence, so in “missed kanji” it goes. (It’s partly cut off but what gets me is that it doesn’t even look wrong in the first place lol but if he crossed it out, it means he didn’t know it well enough, which allowed him to doubt, which is still damning enough.)

造** = Just like above, Shigeo actually does successfully use this kanji once in the show when he’s filling out his paperwork for the Body Improvement Club in S1E2 (forgive my awful kanji, it’s hard to draw on the phone lol): 

However, that was not only on an official school document, it was also in the presence of a student council member and Saruta (#2 in the grade lol) so I have to assume he either asked someone for help or got corrected. Either way, the instance where he doesn’t use the kanji is when he’s in his bedroom alone, writing in his personal notebook—a much more casual environment, and one that takes place AFTER s1e2 (can’t argue he learned it):

This leads me to believe that Shigeo does not naturally know the kanji, as he can’t reproduce it in casual day-to-day or when alone.

焉** = This kanji is not only not included in the jouyou kanji, but it is also used in an obscure word. In fact, it took me a minute to locate it in my Japanese-English dictionary app. It is absolutely not reasonable to expect Shigeo to know this kanji off the top of his head, and he probably wouldn’t know it even if he were a kanji ace. It is included and working against him, however, because the kanji he initially tried to write in its place was 「円」, a.k.a. the kanji for YEN/¥:

Sure, 「えん」is a reading for「円」, that part makes sense. But 「終焉」means “the finals years in one’s life”, so I’m really struggling to understand why Mob would think the yen money kanji would be a part of that word and why he would try to write it with that kanji instead of just writing it in kana first, like the majority of the kanji he didn’t know. It’s truly an enigma to me. I’m bewildered he even tried that, and for that, I’m holding it against him.

BASIC STATS:

GRADE 1 KANJI:

- Total known: 17

- Total unknown: 0

- Grand total: 17

- Shigeo knows: 17 out of 17

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 1 kanji: 100%

GRADE 2 KANJI:

- Total known: 16

- Total unknown: 3

- Grand total: 19

- Shigeo knows: 16 out of 19

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 2 kanji: 84.2%

GRADE 3 KANJI:

- Total known: 13

- Total unknown: 6

- Grand total: 19

- Shigeo knows: 13 out of 19

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 3 kanji: 68.4%

GRADE 4 KANJI:

- Total known: 11

- Total unknown: 0

- Grand total: 11

- Shigeo knows: 11 out of 11

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 4 kanji: 100%

(Baby apparently had a great year in fourth grade.)

GRADE 5 KANJI:

- Total known: 3

- Total unknown: 4

- Grand total: 7

- Shigeo knows: 3 out of 7

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 5 kanji: 43.9%

GRADE 6 KANJI:

- Total known: 0

- Total unknown: 2

- Grand total: 2

- Shigeo knows: 0 out of 2

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 6 kanji: 0%

😭

GRADE 7 KANJI:

(No known or unknown 7th grade kanji found)

GRADE 8 KANJI

- Total known: 5

- Total unknown: 6

- Grand total: 11

- Shigeo knows: 5 out of 11

- Percentage likelihood of Shigeo knowing a grade 8 kanji: 45.5%

^ To Shigeo’s credit, this isn’t bad at all considering he’s only halfway through his eight grade year at this point in the story.

% OF JOUYOU KANJI SHIGEO KNOWS:

% known from observed data:

65/86

75.6%

# of jouyou kanji: 2136

75.6% of 2136 = 1615 jouyou kanji

Here’s a graph for your visualizing pleasure:

Finally:

(All values are rounded up)

There are 1006 kyouiku kanji. There are 1130 secondary school kanji. Because high school in Japan is not compulsory, we’ll assume that the secondary kanji are to be learned over the three years of middle school. That means about 377 words per middle school grade. If Shigeo is halfway through eighth grade, let’s say he should generally know 1006 + 377 + (377/2) kanji, which comes out to 1,572.

There are 80 kyouiku kanji assigned to first grade, which Shigeo should know 100% of—80 total.

There are 160 kyouiku kanji assigned to second grade, which Shigeo should know 84.2% of—135 total.

There are 200 kanji assigned to third grade, which Shigeo should know 68.4% of—137 total.

There are 200 kanji assigned to fourth grade, which Shigeo should know 100% of—200 total.

There are 185 kanji assigned to fifth grade, which Shigeo should know 43.9% of—81 total.

There are 181 kanji assigned to sixth grade, which Shigeo should know… 0% of…. 0 total.

This all totals out to:

80 + 135 + 137 + 200 + 81 + 0 = 633/1006 elementary school-level kanji. That’s 63% of the kanji required for elementary school.

(Didn’t include a calculation for middle school kanji due to having 0 data on seventh-grade kanji and also him being halfway through eighth.)

The truth revealed: can Shigeo write a reasonable amount of kanji for his age group?

Uh… no. Maybe? Well… probably not, no.

I mean, of course there are flaws with my methods. I had a super small sample group and applied the stats there to all of the jouyou kanji, which is almost guaranteed to be lower than reality. I just didn’t really have another choice. Also, I’m very certain that Shigeo MUST know some 6th grade kanji, even if in the results here I considered the probability to be 0%. That’s assuredly not accurate. There were just, by chance, only two instances of sixth-grade kanji in all of the sample writing and he happened not to know either of them. This is just for fun, anyway. I can say with confidence, though, that he certainly isn’t a writer, and he definitely knows less kanji than the average eighth grader, but I wouldn’t take my numbers for anything more than entertainment.

But yeah. Shigeo is…. a little kanji-impaired. Which explains why he struggled with Emi’s writing and is only ever seen reading Shounen Jump volumes lmao. I believe in him though. He makes it work. My illiterate king. Who needs the other half of your elementary sight-words anyway?

All jokes aside though, he really started to scare me with the 世 and 円 things 😭😭😭😭😭

[theladyofshalott1989]

Professor Sebastian Sallow & his husband, Damien Evans, from the Like Moths to a Flame Series

I commissioned the fabulous @vienguinn for a scene from a (not yet published) chapter of "You Cannot Put a Fire Out," the third long-fic in my Like Moths to a Flame series. And, of course, she more than delivered! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing Sebastian and Damien to life. They're perfect! Searching for an artist to commission? Reach out to Vienguinn! She's such a bright light and an absolute joy to interact with <3 If you're itching for a series from Sebastian's POV that covers the events of the game (Book One: Like Moths to a Flame), the summer after (Book Two: Burning Bright), and extends all the way to his early forties (Book Three: You Cannot Put a Fire Out), check out my series! (Note: You can start anywhere as I always recap the full series in the first few chapters of each long-fic.)

M/M, friends to lovers, lots of banter, hurt/comfort, a deeper exploration of ancient magic and dark magic, reluctant necromancer Sebastian Sallow (the poor boy can't catch a break), a mysterious "Stranger" (+ reveal), the Ministry of Magic, Gaunt Manor, Muggle London, Greek mythology, Potions Master Sebastian Sallow, Sebastian's married life, and more! Read the full series on Wattpad (where it's nearing 36,000 total reads) or, since August 2023, AO3 (yes, I dropped the first story all at once...oops, LMAO). With reader-submitted fan art, author-curated playlists, and commissioned art!

Excerpt (after the cut) from Book One: Like Moths to a Flame:

"There must be something I can do to make it up to you," Sebastian said.

Damien rose up from the floor. "You could kiss me," he blurted out.

Sebastian straightened up in alarm, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. "Kiss you?"

"Mhm."

"You're joking, right?" Sebastian's voice wavered slightly.

"No, I'm serious."

"Oh." Before he could talk himself out of it, Sebastian lunged forward, grabbing Damien's head - not exactly gently - and their lips collided. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat at the sensation of Damien's mouth under his. The kiss was hungry, desperate even.

Sebastian's fingers tangled in Damien's hair, pulling him closer as their bodies pressed together. The feeling of Damien's warmth against him was intoxicating. Damien smelled like fresh, uncut grass and the delicate aroma emanating from the pages of an old book. But there was something else lurking beneath the surface, a hint of excitement and the thrill of the unknown, as if he carried the essence of adventure itself in his very being.

As the kiss finally broke, Sebastian's eyes fluttered open to find Damien's golden-brown eyes staring back at him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Thanks for that," Damien said with a grin.

Sebastian smiled back at him, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Anytime," he replied. "In fact, I think I've been wanting to do that for a while."

[iamnmbr3]

J.K.R: Writes a story about a boy who meets another boy at a clothing shop and they somehow become nemesis because boy a didn't shake boy b's hand.

But wait, there's more! They are each other's foil.

Harry then learns everything there is to know about Draco and in spite of not being in the same house, has catalogued every one of his moods, has learned about the letters he gets from his parents and about his freaking wardrobe and things he paid attention to years prior.

And if that's not enough, Draco knew Harry couldn't be the heir of Slytherin.

And you think I'm done? Well, you thought wrong!

After almost accidentally killing Draco, Harry lies through his teeth even when he knew he was right and Draco in turns also lies even when he knows it means he could die and so could his family, which was the sole reason he got into this mess in the first place.

And to further drive the point home, Draco's wand works surprisingly well for Harry and he defeats Voldemort with it.

And it's J.K doesn't want us to ship it? It's not our fault she accidentally wrote a enemies to lovers 🤷‍♀️

Yeah. It is absolutely wild! JKR hates drarry and would never intentionally write this - and if she did, she wouldn't be able to do it as well judging by her rather lackluster handling of the main canon romances. But she accidentally created a work of pure genius with drarry. It's hilarious.

I think you raise a great point about Harry lying to protect Draco in book 6. Not only does Harry obfuscate Draco's role in the whole Astronomy Tower incident in the end to deflect blame from him, but post Sectumsempra incident he takes all the blame and doesn't share what Draco was saying or the fact that he tried to use an Unforgivable even though divulging that information probably would've gotten Harry completely out of trouble.

He hd the power to ruin Draco. Remember, by that point Harry is back in favor with the Ministry (even if the feeling is very much not mutual), Lucius is in jail, and the Malfoys are completely ruined. In the early books Arthur dreams of being able to search Lucius's house but knows he'd never be able to, even with a good reason, because the Malfoys are too influential. By book 6 he can essentially do it on a whim and Slughorn avoids Draco like the plague because of the negative association with his father.

If Harry said that Draco said a ton of incriminating stuff and then attacked him (because let's not forget, Draco is the one who initiated the duel) and tried to use an Unforgivable Curse on him, it would absolutely be believed and taken seriously. Who do you think the authorities are going to side with? The disgraced son of a convicted Death Eater or Harry, the Chosen One who is once again the public's darling? Yeah.

But Harry says nothing despite the fact that this means unpleasant personal consequences for him. Not to mention that it leaves Draco free to continue with whatever mission Harry suspects he's on. In fact, after this scene Harry backs off pursuing Draco. And even when all his suspicions about Draco are proven right on the Astronomy Tower, Harry's reaction is to lie for him again and to worry about him.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline Sirius Black x fem!reader

You lived out your years at Hogwarts with the company of your best friends, Lily Evans and Alice Fortescue. You fell in love with one of the infamous Marauders, Sirius Black. After school, you married and became Mrs Black, living in a home full of love and life with your faithful husband. Your happy life is cut short when Sirius is wrongfully convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and several muggles, and sent straight to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry thinks you must be connected, but after several days of investigation and questioning, litres of veritaserum thrown down your throat, you're proven innocent. You have maintained his innocence ever since, knowing Sirius would never do something like that. The only person who'll hire you is Albus Dumbledore, and with his help your name is reverted to its maiden and your past is buried deep.

This story follows your life during your time as a professor at Hogwarts when Harry Potter joins the school and everything changes.

FULL of angst but has a happy ending.

No use of Y/N

This fic is mostly a collection of moments and scenes! So a lot of time skips.

p.s. title is from the song "I Love You" by Fontaines D.C. — one of my favourite bands!! would so so recommend checking them out :)

CHAPTER ONE (see full series list here)

1991

You glance at your watch, the hand ticking slowly as it moves to show 9:03 p.m.

Finally, the large wooden door opens and a scrawny young boy pushes forward, huffing tiredly, and less than 20 odd first-year students filter into the astronomy tower.

"Evening, everyone!" You say cheerfully. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stand awkwardly as they gaze around the room in wonderment.

You feel proud of it. The last astronomy professor had left this room a little...boring, so when you came into employment you spruced it up a little bit. Though there aren't many to write on, each wall is plastered in hand-painted constellations with their names in 5 languages written underneath. You had cast a spell on the floor to conjure up a moon, one that matched the real one's lunar phases. Today, a waxing gibbous.

Telescopes line the edges of the circular room, each pointing high into the sky. You eye your favourite for a moment, the same telescope you'd used during your own years as a student at Hogwarts.

It feels like home in this room.

"Welcome to the Astronomy Tower," you say with a smile. "Here, you'll learn all about the wonders of our universe and its planets, galaxies, stars...everything. Please, find a telescope and stand behind it. We'll start with charting some simple constellations today."

The students obediently line behind a telescope each. Your eyes immediately focus on a young boy, with jet black hair and circular glasses. You lose your train of thought for a moment, feeling as though you're looking at a ghost.

He's the very image of James Potter.

Then, he turns to look at you and his eyes strike you. Green and vibrant, full of youth and gentleness.

Lily.

You feel your breath catch in your throat, but quickly shake your head of the grief and clap you hands, smiling at the students again.

"Astronomy is one of the very few subjects that is present in both the wizarding and the muggle world. That means that there are millions of resources out there for all of you to use, whether it be from a wizarding standpoint or a muggle one! Interesting stuff," you continue. "Now, I want you all to do a small task for me. Look through your telescope — please don't change any lenses just yet — and try and see if you can spot a constellation. Then, using the first page of your book, see if you can figure out which constellation it is. Call me over when you think you have one!"

The students immediately start rooting through their bags for their Astronomy textbooks and you sigh gently, content with your introduction. First-years are always well interested and curious about everything, so Astronomy is a pretty easy subject for them to get into. After all, lots of the first year curriculum is just looking at pretty stars and constellations.

"Professor, I think I have one!" A young Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair and an excited face says to you, throwing her hand in the air enthusiastically.

You smile, walking over to her. "What's your name, dear?"

"Hermione Granger, professor."

"And what constellation do you think you've found?"

"Aquila, professor," she beams, pointing a finger to the small, 'T' shaped constellation in her book.

You close one eye and look through her telescope, noticing it immediately.

You grin at her. "Well spotted, Miss Granger! Excellent work." You glance at her scarlet and gold tie. "5 points to Gryffindor for being the first one!"

Her face lights up proudly.

"Now, let's see if you can find any of the stars present in it. Any at all, though you may find it difficult to differentiate — "

"The star of Altair, professor!"

Your eyes widen and you chuckle in surprise. "Well, aren't you just making my job a whole lot easier for me? Well done, Miss Granger. Please chart that constellation down on some parchment and continue looking."

In the next few minutes, many students find constellations and are charting them down. One boy seems to be having a particularly difficult time.

"Neville Longbottom, isn't it?" You say as you wander up to him. He jumps at the sound of your voice, knocking his forehead against the edge of his telescope and letting out a small yelp of pain. "Oh, sorry..." You wave your wand gently and his eyebrows raise, bringing a hand to his forehead in surprise.

"Just a small healing spell. For minor, minor injuries," you tell him. "How is your charting going?"

The boy's cheeks go red and his eyes focus on the floor beneath him. "I...haven't been able to find one, professor. I — I thought I had one ages ago, but there were too many stars in it..."

"Let me have a look, Mr Longbottom," you say kindly, bringing your eye up to the lens and grinning. "Well, you most definitely have found one. One I didn't think anyone would find!"

You glance at Neville's face, and he's the picture of shock.

"Pisces, Mr Longbottom. Trust your judgement! Excellent work."

Neville grins, and you step aside, but not before he says something else.

"Uh, professor..."

"Yes?"

"How do...how do you know my name?"

You study his face and smile again. The very picture of Frank Longbottom. With Alice Fortescue's mousy hair.

"I went to school with your parents, Mr Longbottom. You're the spitting image of your father."

Next, the young boy with jet black hair and glasses calls you over. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"What one have you found, Mr Potter?"

As he looks at you, green eyes connecting with your own, you try your hardest not to see Lily staring back at you. You try your hardest not to picture your best friend, your honourary sister, a woman of true light in a world full of darkness.

Your heart has felt lonely since her absence. Since James. Since Alice. Since Frank. Since Peter.

You blink.

"Uh, Canis Major, I think?"

You swallow hard. Of course.

"Let me have a look see..." He's right of course, you don't even need to look. You can spot that constellation any night without a telescope. You know it like the back of your hand. "You're dead right, Mr Potter. Brilliant constellation, that is. Canis Major means 'the Great Dog', and it actually contains the brightest star in the night sky visible to our naked eye, Si — "

"Oh, wait, hold on..." Harry says, flicking through his book to find the page on Canis Major. He pauses, eyes skimming down the page. "Uh, Sirius, right?"

You bite your lip, feeling your heart speed up. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yes, Mr Potter. Sirius."

Your favourite star.

Your favourite person.

Your heart has been broken since his absence.

"Good work." You promptly spin on your heel, heading for your desk as you glance down at your watch. "Alright, everyone. Excellent work today! Now, I won't set anyone any written homework...but if you're truly interested and find you have a little free time, try and see if you can chart any other constellations! Night, everyone."

The students chat animatedly amongst themselves and exit down the spiral stairs, leaving you alone in the room. You sit down at your desk, sighing as you slip a key from your pocket and open one of the drawers. You pull out a small photograph, eyes wandering over the young, elated faces of James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, and yourself.

Graduation day.

One the left, you're standing in the middle of Alice and Lily, arms around them and laughing wholeheartedly. James stands beside Lily, arms around her and Sirius beside him, who's connected with Remus, Peter, and Frank.

You smile weakly. You remember that day, all full of hope and joy. There was some sadness too, sadness to be leaving Hogwarts and ultimately leaving childhood.

Your fingers gently skim over Sirius' face, feeling your heart ache.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that day.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Dear Moony,

I hope you're well! School's started back up again. Been a bit crazy lately, sorry that I haven't written since your last letter. Someone let a troll into the dungeon. Quirrell went mad, fainted in the middle of dinner and set all the students into a panic. It was torture.

Harry's started here. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He's the image of James. It's uncanny. He has Lily's eyes, too. Sometimes I start to feel like I can talk to them through him, even though I know that's mad of me. Neville Longbottom's here too. He's just like his parents. Both in Gryffindor, you'll be happy to know.

Dumbledore's gave me strict instructions not to say a word to Harry about it all. Says it'll be too much for him. He won't be able to understand why I couldn't have raised him instead of the Dursleys. He says that Harry will only start digging around for more information on me if he finds out I'm his godmother. He'd ask about his godfather then. It's too much for a young boy to know that his godfather is in Azkaban.

I wanted to talk to him so bad, Remus. I want to tell him about his parents, show him the photos. I want him to be able to feel at home here, feel like he's got someone here. A part of his family. I know exactly what those Dursleys are like. Petunia always hated James, you know that well enough. I hate that I have to keep this secret for even longer.

I talked to young Neville though. Merlin, he has Alice's clumsiness, that's for sure. Such a sweet lad. He was more than happy to see photos of the two and hear stories about them. I feel like a little bit of the weight that's been hanging over me has been lifted. I even showed him that photo of Alice falling into the Black Lake in 5th Year. If she was of sound mind she'd surely throttle me for that.

I think I need to get out of the castle for a bit. Wanna get a coffee? It's been a while.

I've omitted a few details of the past few weeks so I have something interesting to tell you about next weekend, if you're up for it.

all my love,

You sign the letter, folding up the parchment gently and dropping it in an envelope. You grab your bland wax stamper and press a small circle of black wax over the envelope's seal. You slip it into your pocket and stand up from your bed. Beside you, your black cat, Dubh*, stirs from her sleep and meowls at you.

You give her a loving scratch behind the ears. "Just popping down to the owlery. I'll be back."

On your way down to the owlery, you pass two lanky, identical students with heads full of ginger hair. They haven't noticed you yet. They're peering around the corner at Filch, a suspicious-looking bag in one of their hands.

"Bit late for the two of you to be out, isn't it?" You whisper behind them. They wheel around immediately and their eyes widen in shock.

"Professor! We — uh, we weren't doing anything!" George blurts out.

"Don't you look just lovely tonight, Professor? There is such a...healthy glow about you," Fred remarks suavely and you raise an unamused eyebrow at him.

"I sincerely hope you don't think I'm that thick, Mr Weasley."

"Never, Professor!"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Off to bed, both of you. Quickly, before Filch can catch you. I advise you to keep your pranks within the time you're actually allowed out of bed."

Fred's shoulders slump in disappointment, his want for a good prank evident on his face. George however, is staring at you in surprise.

"No detention?"

Fred immediately smacks his hand over the back of George's head, scowling at him. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"Get going, you two."

They take it this time, quickly scampering down the hallway. You step out from it, into the same one as Filch, who's eyeing you suspiciously.

"Is someone there?"

"Only me, Mr Filch," you answer.

"I thought I heard voices."

"Just me. I was trying to remember a poem I heard recently, it's three pages long. Would you like to hear it?"

Filch's face contorts immediately. "No."

You shrug. "Suit yourself."

You walk past him and out into the cold night air, trying to suppress the smile on your face.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter two here!

*Dubh: pronounced 'duv'. Irish word for 'black'.

→ all types of interaction appreciated ♡

[deskofninak]

i'll take your chaos and your crooked // Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry forces the Slytherin students to return to Hogwarts and complete their final year as a poor attempt at rehabilitation. Mattheo Riddle is a solitary figure marred my self-loathing. The two do not make a good combination.

Notes: Muggleborn reader, hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with suicidal ideation, please seek help. You are precious, you matter, I love you 🩷

Word count: 1090 words

Happy reading! :)

Being Mattheo’s tutor in Potions goes down about as well as you’d accept. It begins with some tense sessions and the boy himself is pretty closed off. But you are not one to be easily deterred and slowly become acquaintances with him, if not friends.

Until one day, Mattheo comes to the tutoring sessions with bruised, bloody knuckles. Apparently, someone had orchestrated a string of Howlers to come at Riddle throughout the day, shouting obscenities and blaming him for his father’s actions. What’s worse, most of the professors had turned a blind eye. The other Slytherins had just held him back from finding out who the perpetrator was. In his blind rage, he’d punched a wall and split the skin over his knuckles. Irascible as he was, he refused to go to the infirmary.

You tried to focus on the lesson but you could tell he was distracted, and you were a little worried about his wound festering. Could bruised knuckles get infected? You’d tried to tentatively ask him what led to this predicament but he’d only gazed darkly at you until you’d sighed and gotten back to the lesson.

You were a Muggleborn and for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you’d never been that scared of Mattheo. Which was quite foolhardy, you were aware. You just had the intuition that Mattheo wasn’t a bad person. He struck you as a very sad, lonely boy scratching out at the world like a feral cat. You tended to do well with animals. But Mattheo wasn’t someone who responded well to displays of affection so you couldn’t exactly reach across the table and pet his curls until he felt sleepy.

So you cared for him in other ways, beginning with tracking down who had orchestrated the Howlers. It turned out to be a fifth-year Gryffindor (no surprises there). You ‘accidentally’ dropped some vials onto his bag in the next Potions lesson, and it had cheerfully burst into flames.

Mattheo had watched you with confusion, and you had sheepishly winked back.

And it kept happening. Every time someone was rude to Mattheo, they found their dorm room flooded, or they’d lost their favourite quill because it had sprouted wings and taken off. Mattheo watched the events unfold with ever-growing bewilderment. You were clearly at the scene of each crime but no one seemed to suspect you. It was frankly a bit annoying, and he confronted you during your next tutoring session.

“Do anything interesting over the weekend?” he asked.

You’d started, taken aback at his desire for conversation after weeks of silent study sessions. “Good. Yeah, normal.”

“Didn’t realise turning a Ravenclaw’s hair turquoise was normal for you,” Mattheo muttered back, just loud enough for you to hear.

You flushed. “Just a bit of harmless fun.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow at you. You huffed, turning back to the books.

Oh no, he was not done yet. “Why?”

You looked back up at him and feigned a blank look.

This was starting to become tedious. “Why are you pranking the people who are pranking me?”

You seemed to have decided to choose the path of obliviousness. “Who says I’m pranking anyone?”

“Me,” said Mattheo, “I can place you at every crime scene.”

“You don’t have to call it a crime scene,” you muttered. “I just don’t like people messing with my friends.”

Mattheo ignored the way the word friend pressed into his side like barbed wire, and pressed on. “Why do you care? They’re coming at me because I’m the Dark Lord’s son. You’re a Muggleborn. Of all people, you should understand. You should side with them.”

You seemed uncertain now and were frowning at him in a way he’d come to horribly adore over the past few months. “You really think that low of me?”

He blinked and leaned back. No, he didn’t think that low of you. He did, however, think that low of himself. He believed that he deserved every piece of hate tossed his way. He took it in gladly because it was so much better than his ‘friends’ abandoning him and everyone pretending he did not exist, it was better than his own anger deserting him and letting him experience every bit of his loneliness and self-loathing and despair. Merlin, it made him want to end it all sometimes. He’d tried once, standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, but he hadn’t been able to find it in himself to step forward.

“Don’t go,” you said, urgently. He thought for a moment that you’d read his thoughts but then realised he’s gotten up, as if subconsciously heading to the Tower again.

He shook his head at you, almost pityingly. “We’re done here.”

“No, we’re not,” you pressed, getting up, too.

He breathed your name in refusal and pressed his eyes shut. It was too much, it was all too much.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t call me by my first name like you’re saying goodbye.” He opened his eyes and you were standing in front of him now. “Say my last name like you can’t stand me. Tease me and tell me I’m too serious for my own good. Tell me you hate how long I drag our study sessions. But don’t you dare shut down on me.”

There were tears shining in your eyes, and he realised that maybe you understood more than you’d ever let on. And maybe he was more aware of his own feelings than he’d let on, he thought, as he brought up his hand to brush the tears rushing down your cheeks.

Your lower lip was trembling and, almost without thinking, he reached forward and kissed you, if only to erase the image of your teary eyes from his mind. And then he was drawing you into himself, gripping your waist, lips moving against your own, and your hands cupped his cheeks so gently it shattered and pieced him back together at once, and you were so soft against him, soft as kindness and soft as the possibility of a safe future.

He drew back, and looked at you and your wide-eyed worry for him. There were tears clinging to his lashes.

You whispered again, “Don’t go.” The image of the Astronomy Tower was wiped clean by the image of your tear-stained face. He slowly lowered his head into the crook of your neck, and you gently scooped him into yourself, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and the other lightly scratching at his scalp through his curls.

He didn’t go.

xxx

Hope you enjoyed this! If you see a typo or a mistake, let me know. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. :) - Nina

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Christmas 2023

One of my favorite holiday traditions it to give a book on Christmas Eve. So hopefully in time for you to cozy up before bed, here is my Christmas Eve gift to you - a rec list!

Just the Two of Us by torino10154 (200 words, rated T)

"I can't believe this is our first Christmas, just the two of us," Harry said as he placed the star on top of the Christmas tree.

Christmas Brunch by @drarrily-we-row-along (583 words, rated G)

Draco wanted to host brunch for his parents on the first Christmas in their shared flat. Harry thought that seemed like a great idea.

But the week leading up to it has been a nightmare, Draco is stressed and Harry's losing his mind. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

For Everything a Season by @shealynn88 (1,342 words, rated T)

"Our children are a joy, Harry, but I’m glad it’s just you and me.”

Harry goes soft. “Why’s that?”

“Well, many reasons. But right now, you’re under the mistletoe, and I prefer to take my time, and the children would make an awful racket if they were here to see.”

Draco Malfoy and the Cursed Sweater by @slytherco (1,804 words, rated T)

After falling victim to Harry's stupid prank, Draco finds an unexpected partner in crime.

Underneath the Tree (You'll Find a Piece of Me) by @squintclover (4,435 words, rated M)

Harry and Draco find themselves in a holiday home amongst friends at Christmas. The Secret Santa Hermione has planned is sure to go perfectly. Surely...

Even Children Get Older by @lou-isfake (4,500 words, rated M)

It started with don't wake the baby.

Snow on the Beach by tinaakitten (4,915 words, rated T)

Over multiple Christmas Eves, Harry and Draco find their way back to each other.

Featuring cute Harry Potter obsessed toddler Scorpius.

Deliberate Denial by edaniels0221 (7,244 words, rated G)

Professor Harry Potter can't help but to deny his children's ridiculous notion that he has a crush on the gorgeous new Hogwarts Healer, but as he comes to find out, one can only be in denial about liking Draco bloody Malfoy for so long.

Löyly by @citrusses (10,323 words, rated E)

Somewhere between the steam of a sauna and the icy waters of the Gulf of Finland, Harry heals from a broken engagement and a failed career. Draco Malfoy helps.

25 Additional Scenes for Ain't That the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424 (12,139 words, rated G)

The additional scenes cover missing moments in December, Harry's election, and Inauguration.

Because Cats by @icmezzo (14,589 words, rated T)

Harry has a cat, and Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, and Harry doesn’t. Then Harry has a cat again, but Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, but Harry—OMG HOW WILL IT END.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w (21,941 words, rated E)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Be sure to check out @skeptiquewrites wonderful Happy Hour Rec for this fic!

All I Want for Christmas by CaityCatt (36,509 words rated M)

Harry feels like a bit of a grinch at Christmas, but his true love has a plan to change all that.

The Coldest of Days by Anonymous (54,683 words, rated E)

At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart.

But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry.

That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

The Art of Thank You Notes by fictionclaw (82,286 words, rated E)

A few years after the war, Harry receives a ministry notice that Draco Malfoy’s house arrest will soon be lifted and that the wand he has kept may be sent to the ministry. He doesn’t think much of it when he sends the wand directly to Malfoy Manor with a note.

But one letter swiftly follows another and Malfoy sneaks his way into Harry's every day life without either of them minding.

Or; Harry and Draco find reasons to write letters to each other and Black heirlooms and family histories are uncovered while they figure out why that is. Lunch dates, careful friendship, confusing feelings and Draco's art included.

I hope that wherever you are, you know you have a place by my fire and a place in my heart. Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and the Happiest of Holiday wishes to all!

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 12th

Medical Play, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Medical play; GN!Reader; dom!Reader?; cringey Terzo; subby!Terzo; established relationship; latex kink?; glove kink; hand job; mild praise; anal fingering; taunting; mild degradation; mild humiliation; power kink; mild edging; cum eating; cumswap; reads like an 80s porno; awful medical terminology, I'm sorry to all the doctors and nurses reading this lmao;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The graveyard shift was always the worst - or rather, the slowest. As most of the Siblings were asleep in the dead of the night, you had free roam of the medical centre of the Ministry. Not that there was ever much to see given that it was hardly decorated and filled to the brim with medicine and multiple medical journals, all of which you’d perused on your off or slow hours.

Thankfully, your job was always made easier by the fact that no one in the Ministry was stupid enough to get themselves into a lot of trouble. Even during the day, the worst injury you’d seen was someone’s ritual or blood play wounds get infected, but thankfully it was easy enough to sort out. It was the most difficult thing, becoming a doctor and going through university - even getting a job within the Ministry itself was a difficult task. The job itself though - paid to read books mostly.

Though, it was different that night. Your socked feet were up on your desk and a book was in your lap. You were, of course, reading what your friends liked to call your “dirty girl books”, when there was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in!” You called. Immediately you brought your feet off the desk and put your bookmark in the book, hiding it from the view of your guest. You still didn’t want to appear unprofessional, even though there was no one around… well, almost no one.

The door opened to reveal a smaller man, black hair and wrinkles. You recognised him instantly. “Good morning, Papa.” You said, standing to your feet out of respect.

“Ah, hello, doctor. I hope I am not disturbing you while you are busy?” Terzo stood there in the doorway uncharacteristically awkward in his demeanour and make up chipping from his face. He looked tired.

You looked at the clock: four o’clock. It was so early. “I always have time for you, Papa. How can I help you?”

“Ah, it is a little embarrassing, doctor.”

“Whatever it is I’m here to help, judgment-free.”

This was the moment you’d been waiting for. The thing is - you weren’t Terzo’s personal physician. Given the nature of their job and the importance of their status, each of the Papas had their own personal physicians at their beck and call all times of the day and night. You weren’t part of that club, rather, dealing with the rest of the Ministry including the Ghouls and the Clergy. You may not have been Terzo’s physician, but you were his partner… so to speak. This whole arrangement had been set up and pre-decided weeks ago, and when he had time, he’d drop in to see you with some “medical emergency” and you would be the doctor to “treat him”. You would pretend not to know each other which was the most crucial part of the whole scene. So now you were just waiting for Terzo to say his next line, not that you knew what his next line was.

“Well you see, I am an old man. And my, how do you say? My dick is broken.”

This fucking guy.

“Okay, in what way?”

“It doesn’t stand for very long. It grows tired very quickly, like me. Or my fratello.”

Please don’t compare your penis to your brothers.

“R-right.” You blinked at him a few times, not quite expecting him to be so forthcoming with his “issue” - or even quite so chaotic. “Please come and take a seat on the bench for me.” He did as you instructed. “Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt, Papa?”

“Ah, doctor, that is the other thing. My fingers are tired today, too. I am afraid they can’t unbutton anything.”

Of course they can’t.

He looked at you and gave you the biggest shit-eating grin, clearly eating up his role. Despite knowing Terzo as intimately as you did for a number of years, he still managed to find ways to fluster you.

You moved forward, trying your best not to smile and keep it “professional”, but the excitement within him was simply radiating off of him and infecting you. He was, for lack of a better term, buzzing with it. Your fingers carefully began to unbutton his white shirt and avoiding his gaze, but you could feel it on you. His mischievous eyes studying you and your expression so intently you were sure it would leave a mark.

Once his incredibly hairy chest was completely exposed to you, you took the stethoscope from around your neck and set yourself up to use it. “This may be a little cold.” You warned before placing the bell over his heart. Of course, this wasn’t a real check up, so it didn’t matter what you heard. In fact, you were only doing this for his benefit because you knew he’d want it.

“Can you hear that, doctor?” He asked.

“There’s nothing unusual.”

“But my heart, you should hear that it beats only for you.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

It took everything in you not to blush or react to his words in any way. “Okay, I think we should do a few tests just to make sure everything’s okay. Would you mind removing your pants, Papa?”

You took a step back and allowed Terzo to stand from the bench and do as you’d asked. You looked away to feign privacy, despite the fact that you’d been up close and personal with that part of his body for a long while. But out the corner of your eye, you noticed that the little shit had decided to forgo underwear. How you were surprised was a mystery unto itself.

“You know, doctor, usually I buy ladies dinner before I let them undress me in their offices.” He teased.

“Usually ladies don’t examine you for erectile dysfunction.” You taunted back. “Are you ready, Papa?”

“Of course, doctor. I await your professional opinion.” He plonked himself back up on the bed and leant back confidently, completely exposing himself to you. He was enjoying this game a little too much for your liking. You began prepping your hands, first sanitizing them then putting latex gloves on to keep up appearances. When you moved back over to him, you noticed that his mismatched eyes were heavily trained on you, only moving when you did and fixating on your gloved hands. Time to bullshit your way through this. “To make sure you can maintain a healthy erection, we need to give you one first. Is this normally something you have a problem with?”

“Not at all. Usually my partner is able to get me up just by looking at me.”

You nodded. “So you won’t need any help from me today, then?”

“On the contrary, doctor. My partner is not here, and so I am having trouble. Please take care of me.”

He gave you the best doe eyes he could muster knowing that it would work on you because it usually did. And so, you nodded, and poured some of the office’s lubricant onto your hand. “This will be cold.” You warned him.

As soon as your lubed hand made contact he hissed and jumped, perhaps making more of a show of it than he ought to. Your hand began to work away at his flaccid length, which was filling up with blood a lot quicker than you anticipated. With each tight stroke of your hand, Terzo’s hips bucked slightly. He wasn’t quite ready or sensitive enough for it to feel mind-numbingly good, but the little breaths and whimpers he was releasing was proof enough that it was working. One of his own gloved hands came up to your arm and gripped onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. The other hand grasped onto the bench with as much force as he could.

You tightened your grip and began focusing entirely on the head of his cock, making sure he was feeling as much pleasure as possible. The feeling of the lubed latex on his head had his mind reeling. His eyes were tightly shut, his bottom lip had been taken into his mouth and trapped between his teeth. He was trying so hard to keep up the pretense but he was obviously feeling good. You decided to be a bitch. “Tell me, Papa, what do you usually do to keep the erection?”

“What?” He asked, opening his eyes and coming to his senses.

“Well, this is a new problem, isn’t it? What usually works? What usually feels good?”

Terzo, whom you had never seen so flustered before, gulped and took in a sharp inhale before continuing. “M-my partner usually uses their mouth.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where does their mouth go?”

“M-my cock and sometimes my a-asshole.”

You moved your other hand to his taint and then to the rim of his hole. “Here?”

“Yes! Merda! There!”

Then, all of a sudden, you removed all of your hands and took a step back. “You seem to be healthy, Papa. I think maybe you’re just stressed.”

His eyes were wide and he couldn’t quite believe you’d done that. “What?”

“Lack of sleep can also be a cause of dysfunction. Do you get enough sleep?”

“Yes. Doctor, I- I am confused.”

“What with?”

“Well, I… you… stopped.”

“Of course, Papa. You needed help maintaining an erection, we’ve since discovered that you don’t struggle with that regularly, and you’re certainly not now.”

“You can’t just leave me like this.” He gestured to his now angrily erect cock before muttering something in Italian, clearly irritated by you.

“Maybe if you were to ask nicely, I might help you out.”

Terzo hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to either be so desperate that he begs for it, but also being to embarrassed to say anything. He was perhaps the filthiest person you knew, never shy or bashful, but apparently when his partner had the upper hand he was a total mess.

“Per favore.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Will you… help me out?”

“Sure, what with?”

“Porca puttana! Make me cum… please, Doctor.”

He almost forgot himself.

You stood and sauntered back over to him applying more lube to your gloved hand as you passed that shelf. “Good boy.” You told him with a teasing smile, wrapping his cock back up in your hand and continuing exactly where you left off. “Nothing wrong with you now, is there? You’re keeping it up well enough, aren’t you?”

The same hand that was gripping onto the bed had moved up onto your shoulder, a gorilla grip on it. His eyes were open but focused on the wall, glazed over a little in the sheer pleasure your hand was providing. Your other hand went straight back to the rim and began rubbing over it again. His noises got louder when you did, hips having a mind of their own. The position wasn’t great so you got him to sit back, keeping him width-ways on the bench with his cheeks on the edge and his feet propped up and legs spread. You cursed your boss for giving you the wrong chair to use for today, what you would have killed to use the gynecology chair with the stirrups. It would have humiliated him so much to be so exposed. He would have loved it. Though he looked like such a whore in this position, you thought perhaps this was more humiliating.

With more lube on your hands, one went back to his head, and the other started pushing inside his hole. His mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’ and his brow furrowed, the pleasure almost overwhelming him. “We do have to make sure all parts of you are working correctly, hm? Especially this nice little button in here.”

“Cazzo!”

Only your pinkie was inside him at the moment. You didn’t want to hurt him and as he hadn’t pre-stretched himself out, you thought it was best to take your time. You wiggled it around a little, trying to make his hole fit two of your better, and kept at it until he was lose enough. Eventually, your index and middle fingers were able to fit inside him, and so you went in search of that button you mentioned. “Touch your cock for me.” You instructed. Like the obedient whore he was today, he did as you asked, wrapping his own hand around the head and moving quickly. “Ah-ah.” You scolded. “Slow down.”

“But-”

“Slow!”

His hand gradually put the breaks on, dropping to an almost torturous level. You could see how much it pained him. Given the fluttering of his hole around your two fingers, you could tell he was already too close. He was too overwhelmed. He needed that sweet release that you were refusing to give him. Why? Why wouldn’t you just make him cum? Why would you drag it out as much as you did? He couldn’t fathom it. But he was so desperate to finish he couldn’t ask you to stop.

This was a completely different man in front of you. The head of the Satanic Church was riding your fingers in your office as if he didn’t hold all of the power. Because right now he didn’t. You did. In his desperate need to cum, he was obeying your orders down to the letter. He was whining and writhing for you and only you. No one else got to see him like this: his entire body on fire and chasing a release he’d practically been begging for since he entered the medical ward, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth where it had opened so wide, and loud moans were spilling out with it. His pants completely removed and his white shirt unbuttoned completely. He was positively sinful right now - a proper Babylonian whore giving himself to another for his own pleasure. And oh how he sang for you when you reached that spot. How he stopped breathing when you finally hit it. How expletives poured from his lips to cope with the devastating bliss your fingers were giving him. Choruses of “yes!” and “right there!” and “don’t stop!” providing him comfort while you had your way with him. His own hand matched yours and as you got faster, so did he. He was so close. He could almost taste the sweet release that was on its way to him.

It was when your hands came up to play with his balls he finally tipped over the edge. Cum spurted from his cock and pooled over his hairy stomach, and even reaching up his chest in the intensity of the orgasm he was experiencing. His toes curled and his body seized up. You were, the whole time, talking him through it. “That’s it,” you told him, “give it all to me, Papa. Give me everything. Such a good boy.”

When you were sure he was fine, you gently removed yourself from inside him and bent forward, your tongue running through his spend and lapping it up into your mouth, keeping it there. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were ablaze with something. More lust? Frustration that you were doing something so sexy and he was too tired to do anything about it? You weren’t entirely sure. But the moan he released when you kissed him, swapping his cum from your mouth to his was enough to tell you all was forgiven… at least for now.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[centrally-unplanned]

Another big stop in Tokyo for me was Jimbocho Book Town! It is a neighborhood of, depending on who you ask, up to 400 generally-secondhand bookstores flanked by some of the major universities in Tokyo. The local government even prints out maps of the stores to help people find them all:

Which, you will note, is not 400 stores, because the process of becoming an "official" Jimbocho Town Bookstore is an intensely political operation run by local stakeholders with tons of fights over what should qualify and what rights that entails - never change humanity!

"Book Towns" used to actually be quite a common thing, and they peaked during the literary boom of the late 19th century. Figuring out "what books existed" was a hard task, and to do serious research you needed to own the books (you weren't making photocopies), so concentrating specialty bookstores in one area made sense to allow someone to go to one place and ask around to find what they need and discover what exists. It was academia's version of Comiket! Modern digital information & distribution networks slowly killed or at least reduced these districts in places like Paris or London, but Jimbocho is one of the few that still survives.

Why it has is multi-causal for sure - half of this story is that Tokyo is YIMBY paradise and has constantly built new buildings to meet demand so rents have been kept down, allowing low-margin, individually-owned operations to continue where they have struggled in places like the US. These stores don't make much money but they don't have to. But as important is that Japan has a very strong 'book collector' culture, it's the original baseball cards for a lot of people. The "organic" demand for a 1960's shoujo magazine or porcelainware picture book is low, but hobbyists building collections is a whole new source of interest. Book-as-art-collection powered Jimbocho through until the 21st century, where - again like Comiket - the 'spectacle' could give it a lift and allow the area to become a tourist attraction and a mecca for the ~cozy book hoarder aesthetic~ to take over. Now it can exist on its vibes, which go so far as to be government-recognized: In 2001 the "scent wafting from the pages of the secondhand bookstore" was added to Japan's Ministry of Environment's List of 100 Fragrance Landscapes.

Of course this transition has changed what it sells; when it first began in the Meiji area, Jimbocho served the growing universities flanking it, and was a hotpot of academic (and political-polemic) texts. Those stores still exist, but as universities built libraries and then digital collections, the hobby world has taken over. Which comes back to me, baby! If you want Old Anime Books Jimbocho is one of the best places to go - the list of "subculture" stores is expansive.

I'll highlight two here: the first store I went to was Kudan Shobo, a 3rd floor walk-up specializing in shoujo manga. And my guys, the ~vibes~ of this store. It has this little sign outside pointing you up the stairs with the cutest book angel logo:

And the stairs:

Real flex of Japan's low crime status btw. Inside is jam-packed shelves and the owner just sitting there eating dinner, so I didn't take any photos inside, but not only did it have a great collection of fully-complete shoujo magazines going back to the 1970's, it had a ton of "meta" books on shoujo & anime, even a doujinshi collection focusing on 'commentary on the otaku scene' style publications. Every Jimbocho store just has their own unique collection, and you can only discover it by visiting. I picked up two books here (will showcase some of the buys in another post).

The other great ~subculture~ store I went to was Yumeno Shoten - and this is the store I would recommend to any otaku visiting, it was a much broader collection while still having a ton of niche stuff. The vibes continued to be immaculate of course:

And they covered every category you could imagine - Newtype-style news magazine, anime cels, artbooks, off-beat serial manga magazines, 1st edition prints, just everything. They had promotional posters from Mushi Pro-era productions like Cleopatra, nothing was out of reach. I got a ton of books here - it was one of the first stores I visited on my second day in Jimobocho, which made me *heavily* weighed down for the subsequent explorations, a rookie mistake for sure. There are adorable book-themed hotels and hostels in Jimbocho, and I absolutely could see a trip where you just shop here for a week and stay nearby so you can drop off your haul as you go.

We went to other great stores - I was on the lookout for some 90's era photography stuff, particularly by youth punk photographer Hiromix (#FLCL database), and I got very close at fashion/photography store Komiyama Shoten but never quite got what I was looking for. Shinsendo Shoten is a bookstore devoted entirely to the "railway and industrial history of Japan" and an extensive map collection, it was my kind of fetish art. My partner @darktypedreams found two old copies of the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible, uh, somewhere, we checked like five places and I don't remember which finally had it! And we also visited Aratama Shoten, a store collecting vintage pornography with a gigantic section on old BDSM works that was very much up her alley. It had the porn price premium so we didn't buy anything, but it was delightful to look through works on bondage and non-con from as far back as the 1960's, where honestly the line between "this is just for the fetish" and "this is authentic gender politics" was...sometimes very blurry. No photos of this one for very obvious reasons.

Jimbocho absolutely earned its rep, its an extremely stellar example of how history, culture, and uh land use policy can build something in one place that seems impossible in another operating under a different set of those forces. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #41 – Japan 1941: Countdown to Infamy by Eri Hotta

Almost everything I know about World War 2, I learned against my will through a poorly spent adolescence and reading people argue about it online. Living in Canada, Japan’s role in it is even more obscure, with the wars in the Pacific and China getting a fraction of a fraction of the official commemoration and pop culture interest of events in Europe. So I went into this book with a knowledge of only the vague generalities of Japanese politics in the ‘30s and ‘40s – from that baseline, this was a tremendously interesting and educational book, if at times more than a bit dry.

The book is a very finely detailed narrative of the internal deliberations within the Japanese government and the diplomatic negotiations with the USA through late 1940 and 1941, which ultimately culminate in the decision to attack Pearl Harbour and invade European colonies across the Pacific. It charts the (deeply dysfunctional) decision-making systems of the Imperial Japanese government and how bureaucratic politics, factional intrigue and positioning, and an endemic unwillingness to be the one to back down and eat your words, made a war with the USA first possible, then plausible, then seemingly inevitable. Throughout this, the book wears its thesis on its sleeve – that the war in the Pacific only ever seemed inevitable, that until the very last hour there was widespread understanding that the war would be near-unwinnable across the imperial government and military, but a broken political culture, the career suicide of being the one to endorse accepting American demands,, and a simple lack of courage or will among the doves, prevented anything from ever coming of it.

So I did know that Imperial Japan’s government had, let’s say, fundamental structural issues when I opened the book, but I really wasn’t aware of just how confused and byzantine the upper echelons of it were. Like if Brazil was about the executive committee – the army and navy ministries had entirely separate planning infrastructures from the actual general staffs, and all of them were basically silo’d off from the actual economic and industrial planning bureaucracy (despite the fact that the head of the Cabinet Planning Board was a retired general). All of which is important, because the real decisions of war and peace were made in liaison meetings with the prime minister, foreign minister, and both ministry and general staff of each branch – meetings which were often as not just opportunities for grandstanding and fighting over the budget. The surprise is less that they talked themselves into an unwinnable war and more that they decided on anything at all.

The issue, as Hotta frames it, is that there really wasn’t a single place the buck stopped – officially speaking, the civilian government and both branches of the military served the pleasure of the Emperor – whose theoretically absolute authority was contained by both his temperament and both custom and a whole court bureaucracy dedicated to making sure the prestige of the throne didn’t get mired in and discredited by the muck of politics. The entire Meiji Constitution was built around the presence of a clique of ‘imperial advisers’ who could borrow the emperor’s authority without being so restrained – but as your Ito Hirobumis and Yamagata Aritomos died off, no one with the same energy, authority and vision ever seems to have replaced them.

So you had momentous policy decisions presented as suggestions to the emperor who could agree and thus turn them into inviolable commands, and understood by the emperor as settled policy who would provide an apolitical rubber-stamp on. Which, combined with institutional cultures that strongly encouraged being a good soldier and not undercutting or hurting the image of your faction, led to a lot of people quietly waiting for someone else to stand up and make a scene for them (or just staying silent and wishing them well when they actually did).

Now, this is all perhaps a bit too convenient for many of the people involved – doubtless anyone sitting down and writing their memoirs in 1946 would feel like exaggerating their qualms about the war as much as they could possibly get away with. I feel like Hotta probably takes those post-war memoirs and interviews too much at face value in terms of people’s unstated inner feeling – but on the other hand, the bureaucratic records and participants’ notes preserved from the pivotal meetings themselves do seem to show a great deal of hesitation and factional doubletalk. Most surprisingly to me was the fact that Tojo (who I had the very vague impression was the closest thing to a Japanese Hitler/Mussolini there was) was actually chosen to lead a peace cabinet and find some 11th hour way to avert the war. Which in retrospect was an obviously terrible decision, but it was one he at least initially tried to follow through on.

If the book has a singular villain, it’s actually no Tojo (who is portrayed as, roughly, replacement-rate bad) but Prince Konoe, the prime minister who actually presided over Japan’s invasion of China abroad and slide into a militarized police state at home, who led the empire to the very brink of war with the United States before getting cold feet and resigning at the last possible moment to avoid the responsibility of either starting the war or of infuriating the military and destroying his own credibility by backing down and acceding to America’s demands. He’s portrayed as, not causing, but exacerbating

every one of Japan’s structural political issues through a mixture of cowardice and excellent survival instincts – he carefully avoided fights he might lose, even when that meant letting his foreign minister continue to sabotage negotiations he supported while he arranged support to cleanly remove him (let alone really pushing back on the army). At the same time, the initiatives he did commit were all things inspired by his deep fascination with Nazi Germany – the dissolution of partisan political parties and creation of an (aspirationally, anyway) totalitarian Imperial Rule Assistance Association, the creation of a real militarized police state, the heavy-handed efforts to create a more pure and patriotic culture. He’s hardly to blame for all of that, of course, but given that he was a civilian politician initially elected to curb military influence, his governments sure as hell didn’t help anything (and it is I suppose just memorably ironic that he’s the guy on the spot for many of the most military-dictatorship-e aspects of Japanese government).

One of the most striking things about the book is actually not even part of the main narrative but just the background context of how badly off Japan was even before they attacked the United States. I knew the invasion of China hadn’t exactly been going great, but ‘widespread rationing in major cities, tearing up wrought iron fencing in the nicest districts of the capital to use in war industry’ goes so much further than I had any sense of. The second Sino-Japanese War was the quintessential imperial adventure and war of choice, and also just literally beyond the material abilities of the state of Japan to sustain in conjunction with normal civilian life. You see how the American embargo on scrap metal and petroleum was seen as nearly an act of war in its own right. You also wonder even more how anyone could possibly have convinced themselves that an army that was already struggling to keep its soldiers fed could possibly win an entirely new war with the greatest industrial power on earth. Explaining which is of course the whole point of the book (they didn’t, in large part, but convinced themselves the Americans wouldn’t have the stomach for it and agree to a favourable peace quickly, or that Germany would conquer the UK and USSR and impose mediation on Japan’s terms, or-).

When trying to understand the decision-making process, I’m honestly reminded of nothing so much as the obsession with ‘credibility’ you see among many American foreign policy hands in the modern day. The idea that once something had been committed to – the (largely only extant on paper) alliance with Nazi Germany, the creation of a collaborator government in China to ‘negotiate’ with, the occupation of southern Vietnam – then, even if you agreed it hadn’t worked out and had probably been a terrible decision to begin with, reversing course without some sort of face-saving agreement or concession on the other side would shatter any image of strength and invite everyone else the world over to grab at what you have. The same applies just as much to internal politics, where admitting that your branch couldn’t see a way to victory in the proposed war was seen as basically surrendering the viciously fought over budget, no matter the actual opinions of your experts – the book includes anecdotes about both fleet admirals and the senior field marshal China privately tearing their respective superiors in Tokyo a (polite) new one for the bellicosity they did not believe themselves capable of following through on, but of course none of these sentiments were ever shared with anyone who might use them against the army/navy.

The book is very much a narrative of the highest levels of government, idea of mass sentiment and popular opinion are only really incidentally addressed. Which does make it come as a shock every time it’s mentioned that a particular negotiation was carried out in secret because someone got spooked by an ultranationalist assassination attempt the day before. I entirely believe that no one wanted to say as much, but I can’t help but feel that people’s unwillingness to forthrightly oppose further war owed something to all the radical actors floating around in the junior ranks of the officer corps who more than willing to take ‘decisive, heroic action’ against anyone in government trying to stab the war effort in the back. Which is something that the ever-increasing number of war dead in China (with attendant patriotic unwillingness to let them die ‘for nothing) and the way everyone kept trying to rally the public to the war effort with ever-more militaristic public rhetoric assuredly only made worse.

That same rhetoric also played its part in destroying the possibility of negotiations with the United States. The story of those negotiations runs throughout the book, and is basically one misunderstanding and failure to communicate after another. It at times verges on comedy. Just complete failure to model the political situation and diplomatic logic of the other party, on both sides (combined with a great and increasing degree of wishful thinking that e.g. letting the military occupy southern French Indochina as a concession for their buy-in on further negotiations would be fine with the Americans. A belief held on exactly zero evidence whatsoever). The United States government was actually quite keen to avoid a war in the pacific if possible, as FDR did his best to get entangled in Europe and effectively start an undeclared naval war with Germany – but the negotiating stance hardened as Japan seemed more and more aggressive and unreliable, which coincided exactly with Japan’s government taking the possibility of war seriously enough to actually try to negotiate. It’s the same old story of offering concessions and understanding that might have been agreed to a few months beforehand, but were now totally unacceptable. In the end, everyone pinned their hopes on a face-to-face diplomatic summit with FDR in Juneau, where sweeping concessions could be agreed to and the government’s credibility staked on somewhere the hardliners could not physically interfere with. The Americans, meanwhile, wanted some solid framework for what the agreement would be before the summit occurred, and so it never did.

After the war, it was apparently the general sentiment that the whole nation was responsible for the war with the United States – which is to say that no individual person deserved any special or specific blame. Hotta’s stated aim with the book is to show how that’s bullshit, how war was entirely avoidable, and it was only do to these small cliques of specific, named individuals that it began. The hardliners like Osami Nagano, but just as much the cowards, careerists and factional partisans like Konoe, Tojo, and (keeper of the Privy Seal) Kido. Having read it I, at least, am convinced.

[thatshakespeareanfool]

Bellatrix is not as such your local crazy lady as the fandom tends to pretend. The movies and Helena’s performance played a big part in this but she gets often totally mischaracterized.

Bella is unhinged and broken in the same way Sirius is after 12 years of brutal prison but she is definitely quio sane. Her obsession with Voldemort has nothing to do with madness but that’s an another topic to discuss.

The only scene where we see her acting out is the Battle of the Department Ministry when she continuously mocks the “group of children” who is there to fight them. Later in the battle she is purposefully trying to rile Harry up perfectly knowing what are his triggers.

In the spinner’s end chapter she is reasoning with Narcissa till they arrive to Snape. She is somehow the only person who is actively questioning Snape’s loyalty and despite her devotion to Voldemort she is questioning his judgment as well, that’s when Snape touches the sensitive subject that she and V are not on talking matters right now.

In DH when the golden trio is in the Malfoy Manor she is capable to understand the grave situation of their if the Cup from her vault is missing. Narcissa and Lucius have no idea what’s going on, but Bella knows Voldemort is gonna kill them all if the cup have gotten stolen and yet she treats the whole situation pretty reasonably. (Yes her method is to torture Hermione but again that has nothing to with her mental capabilities rather the fact that she sees muggleborns as inferior).

So portraying her as someone who doesn't know what she is doing or the consequences of them is quite wrong. Her moral compass is obviously nothing one should agree with but that doesn't mean she is not in her right mind.

She has enough control over here emotions to master Occlumency and she gives at least a few displays that are probably blatantly false and used for emotional manipulation, like Narcissa does in HBP.

Also Bellatrix never participated in the murder of Dumbledore in the books because she was never there at the first place. She doesn't burn the Burrow down or does any other grandiose acts which paints her character as unnecessary unstable.

One does not need to be insane to be bigot.

[saintsenara]

I hope that you're having a lovely weekend. What do you think about Theo/Harry? We know that Theo could see thestrals that he means that he saw someone die and he is raised by his Dad (no idea what happened to his Mum). Also he is one of the few named Slytherin that appears to not be openly antagonist to HP. Also his Dad gets captured during the Order of Phoenix if I remember correctly so it makes you wonder who looked after him during this time. Also if you take Harry Potter and Cursed as canon then he is at least bright enough to make two time turners that went way beyond previous Ministry's products which is a difficult and impressive piece of magic and in JK interview she wanted to include a scene with him and show he is equal to Malfoy. Raised by an elderly widower and Death Eater and is described as a clever loner who does not feel the need to join gangs including Draco. I feel like there is something to work on.

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

the mention of theodore nott lets me dig up one of the single funniest things harry ever does, from order of the phoenix:

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters.

by this point in the timeline of the series, harry has spent almost five years in at least three potions classes a week, and almost three years spending at least one care of magical creatures classes with him. he might also be expected to have remembered that nott can see thestrals... and yet no recognition whatsoever. hermione has to provide the deets. he literally cannot pick the man out of a line-up.

[although, to be fair, harry does remember his name in half-blood prince... because he sits next to draco malfoy - at whom he's staring - in potions. really beating the allegations there, king...]

i am, therefore, invested in the idea of nott strutting around the slytherin common room talking about how serious his relationship is, while harry doesn't realise he has a boyfriend and/or thinks that the "harry potter's slytherin boyfriend" everyone's talking about is malfoy.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Identification in the Wizarding World

I don't remember how I got to thinking about it, but wizards in Harry Potter don't seem to really have IDs... like no license cards or social security numbers, and that kind of begs the question of how you prove you are who you are. So I went to the books to see if it was ever answered, and to my surprise — it was.

Wands are their IDs

I'm gonna explain where in the books it's written and how it seems to work since I just didn't really see anyone mention it, and I found it curious. I'm not sure if it was just me who was a bit dumb and didn't notice it or what, but I do want to write about it.

“Madam Lestrange!” said the goblin, evidently startled. “Dear me! How- how may I help you today?” “I wish to enter my vault,” said Hermione. The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Hermione. “You have . . . identification?” asked the goblin. “Identification? I-I have never been asked for identification before!” said Hermione. “They know!” whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, “They must have been warned there might be an imposter!” “Your wand will do, madam,” said the goblin. He held out a slightly trembling hand, and in a dreadful blast of realization Harry knew that the goblins of Gringotts were aware that Bellatrix’s wand had been stolen.

(Deathly Hollows, page 452)

So, I'll start with this scene in Deathly Hollows, in which a Gringott's Goblin outright says a wand can be used for identification. The Golden Trio here shows the disadvantage of such an identification method, as wands can be stolen. And besides, how would a wand even work for identification? Like, how does it prove you are who you say you are?

Well, I think I know how wands are supposed to function as identification, and it's not as bad and easily fakable as it may seem. I'm not saying it's perfect, but if implemented correctly it isn't the worst they could come up with.

After all, everyone has a wand (at least in the Western Wizarding World) and everyone carries their wand with them everywhere and at all times. Not only that, but wands are unique enough to work as an ID. Wand description is broken into 6 components of its making: wood, core, flexibility, length, the wandmaker, and how long it's been in use, making each wand unique to the specific individual wielding it. Therefore a wand is something reasonable to use to identify individuals.

So, how is it supposed to work?

“Wand weighing?” Harry repeated nervously. “We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the tasks ahead,”

(Goblet of Fire, page 303)

Wand weighing.

In GOF, the wand weighing is shown to tell the characteristics of each wand, and if we jump ahead to Arthur Weasley's and Harry's arrival in the ministry for Harry's trial in OOTP:

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 126)

“Wand,” grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand. Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it. “Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?” “Yes,” said Harry nervously. “I keep this,” said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “You get this back,” he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 128)

We see exactly how wand weighing (the brass scale Harry describes) is meant to identify. This device prints out the makings of the wand when it was sold, and probably more information than Eric at the security desk reads out. He then asks Harry if it's correct because wands don't have their making and when they were bought written on them. This means only the wand's owner would supposedly remember all the details of the wandmaker, make, and when it was bought, then by asking about it, it can be revealed if the wand was stolen or not.

It's not a great method, but it's something.

It's not any dramatic revelation about the Wizarding World, I just didn't really see wands being used as IDs in the fandom and I found it interesting. I just really am interested in the Wizarding World as a culture and how it works. IDs are just part of it.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

deathly hallows is so weird. i remember even when i first read it at 12 being kinda like ???? because really? this? this was supposed to be the big hyped up grand finale?

obviously book 7 isn't the only book with plotholes but there are so many more than in the others ones and they were really obvious things that just felt so lazy. like suddenly people can be their own secret keepers? meaning that the plot device that kicked off the entire series now doesn't make sense? or jkr forgetting harry canonically knows how to cook. just basic stuff like that that felt so sloppy. or harry and co breaking into the ministry to steal something that umbridge might just as easily have left at home in a drawer in her house. ?? or they somehow don't have food when they're camping even tho they can do magic and can duplicate food so they could just take a ton of stuff from a grocery story and copy it forever?

plus the pacing. it has some really good moments towards the end but omg a lot of it has no sense of urgency. or i remember as a kid after reading book 6 being super hyped to see the other cool and difficult to defeat enchantments guarding the horcruxes like we saw in book 6. but nah. in book 7 they're just lying around anywhere.

it's like jkr set up this whole horcrux hunt thing and then got bored with it and wanted to get thru it as fast as possible. and then added a bunch of poorly thought out wand stuff that contradicts prior canon. there were a ton of cool things that could've been done with book 7 and instead most of it feels so rushed.

It seems we all have secret trauma revolving Deathly Hallows.

The beautiful thing about the being your own secret keeper, of course, now means that if that was the case then someone didn't tell the Potters this or they were dissuaded from this path for some reason makes Dumbledore look very suspect.

Though I personally love the idiotic plan to bust into the Ministry to get the Horcrux rather than try to find out where Umbridge lives or trying to get a hold of her when she does her shopping in the country's one shopping district of Diagon Alley. It's just so dumb.

Or the fact that the gang suddenly survives only on mysterious mushrooms they gather deep in the wilderness of Great Britain or the time they look for blackberries in the middle of winter. Ron knows there aren't going to be blackberries, tells Harry as much, but since he's come back from abandoning this very stupid mission he now believes that Dumbledore must have had a plan.

Dumbledore had a plan.

Right?

Dumbledore?

Dumbledore?

DUMBLEDORE?!

WHY DID YOU TELL US NOTHING DUMBLEDORE?! WHAT IS THIS BOOK OF FAIRYTALES EVEN SUPPOSED TO--

(But yes, anon, it's just a bad book filled with beautiful stupidity that felt like it should have been a video game and was oddly written as if it was a video game where most of the chapters are boring cut scenes you want to skip and the game play is things like "raid gringotts" or "fetch the sword from the bottom of a pond to destroy the horcrux".)