snapeaddict

[snapeaddict]

EVERYONE please have a look at this! Paula is an amazing big sister and is doing all she can in very difficult circumstances. Consider commissioning and/or donating ❤️❤️

My sister’s surgery and why I am opening commissions!

Hi there! I have decided to access this platform to try and find a solution to my sister’s current situation… It has been too long at this point and I really do not know what else to do… so here goes nothing!

First of all… hi! My name is Paula, or mmad-lover as you may know me here. I am a student and freelancer from Costa rica, and I currently live with my younger sister. Her name is Camila.

My sister loves dancing, she is quite good at it and has been doing it almost daily for quite some time now. One day, many months ago, she snapped her anterior cruciate ligament (which is essentially the most important knee ligament) while practicing a choreography, and she has been living in pain ever since.

Some doctors suggested physical therapy and exercise to try to nurse her knee back to health, yet deeper tests showed that she requires a reconstructive surgery to fix her injury, since the ligament that snapped is the only one that cannot regenerate on its own. According to medical professionals, if she does not get this surgery, with time she will most likely lose her ability to walk normally, since her leg won't be able to sustain her weight properly, and she won’t be able to dance again, which is what she loves to do the most in life.

We are two young adults living in Costa Rica (my sister just turned 20) and the amount required for the surgery is too big for us, since we also fend for ourselves in every other economical aspect related to studies and housing, as well as other living conditions. There is no one else that can help us, our small family is dysfunctional as well as economically unstable, so I have resorted to posting what happened here, in hopes of finding any sort of help possible.

My commissions are currently open, and I am very open to drawing any prompts and requests that you may have. If this is something that might interest you feel free to message me!

Here you can find a drive folder with two of my sister’s documents that serve as proof for both her current condition and for the expenses of the surgery:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/14PLVqEe4E1GWB8oy_NCH2jOAq2D_YnW0?usp=drive_link

Both documents are in Spanish, since the operation will take place here, in Costa Rica.

I will also leave my Ko-Fi link here, in case you would like to request any commissions or send any donations through there. I sincerely thank you for anything you can do to contribute to this, whether it is a commission, a small coffee donation, or just mere messages of support. The idea of being able to help my sister continue with her life means everything to me. Thank you so much for your time, we truly appreciate it!

#So proud of you mmad #snapedom #severus snape #commissions open

[snapeaddict]

OH MY GOD I ADORE THIS SO MUCH YOU DID SO WELL

The freaking *talent*

January 9th, 1985

A celebration for Severus Snake Snape’s birthday gone wrong. It involved quite a lot of alcohol, muggle costumes, and cat hair, all courtesy of Albus.

The original reference is undoubtedly from the Barbie movie. I am surprised I haven’t seen anything like this drawn before!

Also, if you squint, this was secretly a Minvember prompt (Day 26, “oh f*ck!”). As usual, for @snapeaddict <3

#I can't get over this the expressions the postures the glitters the implications #PERFECT #You must have put so much work into this it's so perfect #The bee tiara oh my freaking god #albus dumbledore #severus snape #minerva mcgonagall #Happy birthday to my one and only grumpy man #You used the oh fuck prompt so perfectly lmao I cannot

[snapeaddict]

A Christmas present for @mmad-lover ❤️

With hints about this piece

December 25th, 1969

Hogwarts was, quite literally, buried under snow – thick, pristine snow that shone gently where rays of candlelight passed through the castle’s windows, then vanished into the dark winter night. Inside, the few remaining students had gone back to their dorms, stomachs full and giggling, still, at Peeves’ latest prank. The poltergeist had made a dashing entrance during dinner with a good three dozen Christmas bubbles hanging from his ghostly fingers, toes, and ears. They had all been stolen from the Great Hall’s tree: it looked terribly bare as a result.

McGonagall had looked everything but pleased. Her nostrils had flared in a characteristic manner, her lips were tight - but just as she was about to say something, Dumbledore had started chuckling. Very quietly, at first, in an attempt to pass it off as a caught - he could see Minerva’s expression from the corner of his eye - then he had given in, the students had followed along, and Minerva’s face had relaxed too, eventually. She could never remain cross when Albus started laughing. 

“I reckon the view from your tower must be rather exceptional, Minerva – I need to go to the owlery to see the frozen lake. I saw a few deer walking over the ice two years ago, and have hoped to see them again ever since.”

Albus was standing next to his office’s tallest window, just beside his desk. As for Minerva, a frown was creasing her eyebrows, and she was sitting on a nearby couch. She was unknitting the bottom half of a sock the headmaster meant to gift Filius: the pattern had been slightly mishandled. Albus was, after all, a complete beginner; he had been teaching himself to knit for two weeks only.

“Do come by tomorrow for lunch, Albus. The lake is particularly beautiful at this time of day, and I believe it will be sunny.”

Albus turned away from the window. Her eyes were still fixed on the sock in her hand, and his gaze lingered on her face; she looked up, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Where did you learn to knit so well?” he asked, picking up his coffee mug from the side of his desk. He sat down in front of her, nodding in the direction of the blue sock in her hand.

Minerva eyed him for a few seconds, then looked down and smiled.

“My mother. My brothers were not exactly sticklers for cleanliness. ‘Cho salach ris a’ pholl’, she used to say – as dirty as mud.”

“My own brother never wore socks”, Albus lamented.

“I see where your lacunas come from, then. Would you like me to show you where you made a mistake?”

“Do you promise to be patient?”

“I am always patient”, Minerva said drily, though she was grinning slightly. 

Albus raised an eyebrow. “Ah! I did not believe you to be disingenuous, my dear professor. Need I remind you of the waltz? The piano? The baking? The -”

“You almost burnt the castle down. And left your wand on the counter!”

“That is but a minor detail in the history of my many accomplishments.”

“What about my foot? My poor foot – the one who will restore it to its original size is not born yet.”

“What about my foot?” Albus retorted, though his outrage was slightly undermined by the lemon drop he was munching on.

“It was not supposed to be there in the first place, Albus. That is precisely the issue.”

The headmaster looked somewhat apologetic. 

“But I did progress, did I not?”

Minerva turned the sock over on her lap. She sighed affectionately.

“You did. I am rather proud, I must admit it - but you still cannot venture in public.”

“You make me blush, my dear.”

“Did you hear the second part of the sentence?”

“I am a great believer in selective hearing.”

Minerva graced this reply with another sigh, a bigger and rather ironic one. Then, unexpectedly, silence fell over the room, as if the usual pleasantries and bickering had overstayed their welcome. This had been happening more and more frequently as of late, and none of them could pinpoint the exact reason why.

Snow fell beside the window, disturbed in its route by strong gusts of wind that made it swirl continuously. Albus looked at it, and Minerva looked at him.

She was quiet for a short moment, looking as though she was considering her options. She opened her mouth tentatively, and closed it; then, finally, she moved over to her left. 

“Will you sit next to me, Albus?” she asked abruptly. “I will show you how to finish the Christmas tree pattern – you got confused halfway.”

Her tone was queer, an uneven mixture of confidence, teacherly strictness, and out-of-place timidity. Clearly, the result was not what she had expected, and the headmaster seemed to pick on it as well. He looked hesitant for a few seconds. 

“Certainly”, he replied at last, putting down his cup of coffee. 

He sat right next to her, and she handed him the sock and knitters, pointing to a small part of the knitting pattern.

“Like this, yes, exactly. Knit stitch, purl stitch, but you must not go all the way to the end of the row – yes, like this – be careful to keep the same number of stitches here – yes -”

Albus managed the end of the dark green row, but the following steps proved to be more complicated. Twice, he avoided miscounting rows thanks to Minerva’s expert eye; but his main difficulty was not losing track of which was the visible side of the sock, inevitably leading to inconsistencies.

“Here, Albus, let me help you. I just need -” 

Her hand touched Albus’, which had not been removed quickly enough. 

And here they were, these formidable wizards, eloquent speakers and charismatic professors, staring awkwardly at a sock, half on Albus' lap and half on hers; they looked perfectly stupid, and rather flushed.

Minerva cleared her throat. 

“You may start the next row.”

“Yes… yes… assuredly.”

But silence lingered, yet again.

“Now?” Minerva ventured, nudging towards the sock.

“Yes. Yes.”

And, in no more than three minutes, he finished the knitting with remarkable ease, as if possessed by some kind of yarn-adoring entity. Surprised, Minerva grew closer, nodding approvingly. Clearly, his problem had been with the practicalities of visible and invisible sides, and that mistake was behind him already.

“Why is it that the waltz still puzzles you when you have picked this up so quickly?” she exclaimed, bewildered. 

Albus turned the sock over, his eyes twinkling: he admired his work with unconcealed pride, and Minerva could not help but remark he looked genuinely prouder of this sock than of his many intellectual prowesses and historical achievements, for whatever reason. 

“You have been particularly patient with me tonight, Minerva”, he said serenely, relieved that his voice did not waver, especially when she blushed. “And I listened with the utmost attention. I am sure I will make a good waltzer if I am to take my next lesson in the same circumstances… so to speak.”

That, of course, was untrue. But after that evening, Minerva found that she could never muster the courage to tell him. Only one Severus Snape, years later, would have the courage to say it out-loud: Albus Dumbledore just had terrible coordination. 

#Can't believe there's actually a romantic snippet on here #It's an attempt at least #Merry Christmas my friends I love you to bits #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #harry potter #Mmad #severus snape

[snapeaddict]

snape clutching lily’s letter in grimmauld place isn’t supposed to be a sweet moment where you’re overwhelmed by the romance of it all, it’s supposed to be an ugly moment in which a grief stricken man tried to find comfort in the words of a friend who died decades ago. it’s supposed highlight snape’s isolation, how being a spy cut him off from other people and now he killed his last friend and was truly alone.

[snapeaddict]

the whump fan’s dilemma

#👀 #Said it all

[snapeaddict]

You are a brilliant writer :)

I can't tell you how much it made my day night 😢❤️

#Logging on here after the wildest semester #Time to write

[snapeaddict]

That has to be one of the most extraordinary pieces of work I've seen here, ever

The Snape Family - 1970

[snapeaddict]

*Gasp*

There’s nothing like rewatching The Goblet of Fire and pausing in a very very funny Snape reaction~

#Dkfkkfkf #It's the distinguished hand for me

[snapeaddict]

Okay I laughed out loud her expression is absolutely perfectly rendered, she's annoyance incarnate

Minvember - Day 13

Late classroom nights

A bizarre scenario where Minerva, Albus and Severus have access to smartphones and call each other while they work late at night. Naturally, Albus abuses this power way too often…

#Both she and Severus have elected to mostly not reply and Albus suspects it so once he calls them while hiding and he sees them purposely #no answering #And throws a fit #To which Minerva makes the same face again

[snapeaddict]

Lmaoo yess

It's us

#I do 🐤

[snapeaddict]

Severus, during Umbridge's tenure, rather reluctantly: Mr Weasley, do you remember that conversation we had 6 years ago?

Fred, immediately: I thought you'd never ask

Severus; "I assume you realise this kind of idiocy will not be tolerated in my class?"

Fred; "Is there another type of idiocy you'd be more comfortable with?"

#Canon

[snapeaddict]

That scene where Snape drops Harry's potion on the floor and says "oops" is all the reasoning I need to firmly believe Snape's animagus is a cat.

[snapeaddict]

Minvember Day 3 - Dance rehearsal

"Severus, you must help me."

"I am busy."

"Busy doing what, exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"..."

"The fumes, Minerva. I am watching the potion fumes. The thicker it is, the better the result for this experiment."

"I see. I thought you were merely contemplating your laboratory, brooding over the absurdity of life as per usual."

Severus rolled his eyes. He unfolded his arms and took his eyes off the cauldrons that stood a few feet before him, glancing at the deputy headmistress with an unreadable expression.

"How may I be of service?"

"My left foot."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You will have to be more precise."

"It hurts."

Almost imperceptibly, his lips quirked in a sort of twisted, half-repressed smile.

"That is most unfortunate", he merely replied.

"Well, do something about it, you annoying man!"

"I do not see how. Certainly Poppy is the one qualified-"

"You know how she is! She might talk - tell Albus -"

Severus leaned comfortably against the nearest work-table. He could have been filing his nails for all that mattered; he looked especially unbothered, with a cunning and satisfied expression patiently waiting to move each of the carefully trained muscles of his face.

"Tell Albus what?" he asked.

His voice, as usual very smooth, was a steady mix of amusement and faked ignorance.

Minerva sighed heavily. She looked over her shoulder, then replied:

"You know he stepped over my foot the whole evening. And the day before. And the day before that."

"Really? But I thought you were an experienced waltz teacher -"

"Severus -"

"Such a brilliant one, in fact, that even the headmaster could become a successful dancer under your guidance, if I recall your very words -"

"Severus -"

"And, if my memory does not fail me, to that I humbly replied-"

"FINE! YES! Albus is a lost cause. It is like his arms and legs do not belong to the same person. He smiles confidently and then moves completely out of rhythm. Are you satisfied?"

Severus smiled cunningly. He set out to the other side of the room, opened and closed a cupboard and then came back to his original place, holding a jar of white cream. He handed it to her.

"This will reduce the inflammation in under ten minutes, if applied generously. It is scented with camomille - your favourite."

"Thank you."

She turned to leave.

"Oh, Minerva?"

"What now?"

"Do you know when this was prepared?"

"I am sure you will tell me."

"August 13th. The day we learnt there would be a Yule Ball."

She rolled her eyes and left, cursing under her breath. From what Severus could make out, it was something about never taking a bet again; he turned his attention back to his cauldrons, looking very pleased with himself.

#minerva mcgonagall #severus snape #pro snape #albus dumbledore #harry potter #minvember 2023 #Minvember #Minerva #Btw this also happened with hangover potions but he's less sassy about it befause *she* drinks him under the table #*because

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 18 - Gaze

April, 1998

From where he was, higher up on the wall, Albus gazed down as his Potions Master - the new headmaster - sat behind the desk. He could only see his left profile, and even that, after a second or two, was hidden from him as well: a curtain of back hair blocked his view.

He could not feel terribly deeply, or at least, he knew his feelings had to be much less complex, much smoother than those of his actual self. But this added something to them, too. A layer of emotional rawness he had never experienced in life. 

He knew he had loved the boy, so he loved him, still, and his silence was excruciating. 

"Any news, Severus?", he asked, clearing his voice. "That is, outside of Hogwarts. I find myself longing for newspapers these days."

The younger man did not raise his head, and dipped his quill into the inkwell in front of him. 

"Even the Daily Prophet? Surely you remember, Dumbledore, the amount of nonsense that is printed on these pages daily", Severus replied indifferently. 

"Even the Daily Prophet. Life as a portrait is rather dull."

Severus' hand stopped mid-sentence.

"I am sorry to hear that. As you are aware, I did not wish for it to happen either."

"Severus..."

"I do not require idle conversation to pass the time, Albus. I have seen no news of importance as of late."

Raw emotions.

"You are being unfair", the portrait blurted out. "I made you do it - but have you thought about what this cost me?"

The Slytherin dropped his quill and his head finally jerked upward, turning towards the portrait. His usual mask of indifference was gone, and he looked utterly shocked: he could not master the strength to reply immediately. 

Albus, too, was shocked. The vague knowledge that such behaviour was unlike himself creeped over him, heavy with meaning. Who was he?

"I have thought about it, Albus", Severus replied after a while, coldly. His voice was a little lower than usual. "I have thought about it over and over again - and I wish you had too, before touching that damn ring."

There was a bizarre contrast between the rigidity of his voice and his face, distorted by an ugly mixture of pain, grief and anger.

"You are in no position to reproach me so, Severus", the portrait replied austerely, rising from his painted chair. "Have you not done things yourself without thinking of the consequences?"

He saw Severus' hand twitch. He had gone too far - he instantly regretted it, but did not find in him the will to apologise or even utter another word. He expected the younger man to explode or storm out. But to his surprise, he did neither, and Albus found himself dreading what would come next.

Severus simply reached out for the pile of newspapers to his left. He picked one specifically: the Daily Prophet. He turned each of its pages with care until he seemed to have found what he was looking for, his hands, albeit almost imperceptibly, trembling with anger.

"I was wrong, Albus", he said. His voice was terrible, low and icy cold. "There is one article you might want to be made aware of - it concerns Gellert Grindelwald. He was found dead in his cell yesterday."

There was heavy silence, and, tangible for all present, a bleak sense of no return. 

"It cannot be", the former headmaster managed, his voice faint. "It must be a mistake."

"It is not. There is a picture - his face is most distinctive. You remember the shape and colour of Gellert Grindelwald's eyes, I am sure?"

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 25 - Mask

Everything was a blur. He could barely hear; his vision was hazy, its corners were suspiciously dark and white spots danced at its centre. He felt numb, and could not tell if he was in pain, or not. Yet he kept bringing his hand back to his neck, where Fawkes had shed a copious amount of tears: the area was particularly sensitive.

He walked, and he kept walking. He made his way back to the castle without once clearly formulating to himself where it was that he was going; he could not think, and found himself incapable of devising even a slightly coherent response to the world around him.

So he walked, first to the castle's entrance, then inside the castle he found deserted, and finally to the Great Hall where all had assembled. He entered, and then only did the realisation of where he was and in front of whom he stood struck him: even with the buzz in his ears, he was vaguely aware that most conversations in the hall had ceased instantly, save for whimpers and cries.

He blinked, attempting to focus on what was in front of him. Minerva was there; so was Potter, who had been talking to her. She turned towards him and froze at his sight. He halted.

Both gazed at one another. Instinctively and without his knowledge, an expression of overt indifference supplanted the haggard one on his face: all his muscles turned into stone to avoid any emotion from betraying him, to conceal even the most volatile, foolish sentiment. He gazed at her with terrible tranquillity, and so did she, for she did not move, she did not stir, she looked neither shocked nor surprised. Her upper lip moved slightly, in a manner characteristic to her, to express disdain.

There was no helping it. After a year, neither of them could put down the masks easily: Minerva to protect herself, Severus to protect her.

And there was silence, a heavy, prolonged silence.

"Professor", Potter finally said in a toneless voice, breaking the spell.

Minerva took a step forward, then another, and with each one her face came back to life, her marble expression slowly replaced by one of utter grief and worry.

"Is that true, Severus?" she whispered to him, shivering at the sight of his bloody robes.

He could not reply, he could not use his voice, so he nodded, and as he did he understood her question and his heart missed a beat. Lowering his eyes, he rolled down his left sleeve with a trembling hand: he gasped as he discovered the dark mark almost gone, only barely visible.

He did not have time to look up. Strong arms wrapped him in a warm embrace - he heard Minerva sob against his shoulder, she was clinging on to him with disproportionate strength.

When she raised her eyes to meet his, her face was tear-streaked and she looked utterly desperate. Yet she was smiling; he wrapped his arms around her too.

It was a good thing he could not think properly, for all eyes were on them and it did not even cross his mind.

But in the safety of her embrace, he felt himself begin to smile too. Confusedly he wanted to apologise to her, to tell her that she would soil her robes, to inquire about what happened, but all these thoughts passed him by without ever giving him the chance to act upon them.

It was for the better.

"Are you going to faint on me?" he heard her murmur, and he realised he was now the one clinging on to her.

He nodded slowly, and she pulled her wand out, still holding him tightly.

"Do not worry, I am here now", she whispered.

And he smiled again and closed his eyes.

[snapeaddict]

AAAH THEY'RE SO CUTE AND BEAUTIFUL

Minerva particularly looks gorgeous, her sharp nose really is everything, I'm

Minvember - Day 3

Dance Rehearsal

Minerva and her dancing partner~

#She would always be the one leading the dance and inviting him that's for sure #And he'd be so clumsy #I headcanon Albus is a terrible dancer but very keen to learn #And Severus is an excellent dancer but absolutely refused to learn #Unless he can show the headmaster *he* does much better

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 30: Ghost + Minvember Day 2: Scotland

This is a real folktale, very slightly modified, from Uist, Scotland. It was recorded by M. F. Shaw from the bard Seonaidh Caimbeul.

"Have we not celebrated enough? The pumpkins? The gory food? The costumes? What more do you want, headmaster?"

Albus took a seat next to Severus, settling himself in the armchair rather carefully as he was holding a teacup, full to the brim. He merely smiled.

"You did not even dress up, Severus. And I was thinking - what about ghost stories? It would be a nice way to finish the evening. Wouldn't it, Minerva?"

The Potions Master rolled his eyes. He was still standing next to his chair, his arms folded and a usual scowl on his face; those who knew him well, though, could tell, after scrupulous observation, that there was a hint of amusement in it.

He sat in the armchair next to him unceremoniously, as though he had been forced to and not merely - and very civilly - invited to join the group. 

"I know one", Minerva replied, handing him a cup of tea with a cunning smile. "My mother told it to me when I was a girl. It is from Uist, I believe."

"Indulge us, Minerva", Severus muttered, accepting the hot beverage. "Albus seems to be in dire need of embracing his inner child tonight."

"And you should too, sometimes, my boy", the headmaster remarked humorously. "It would do you good."

"Now that sounds properly terrifying."

"Should I tell it, yes or no?" Minerva interrupted them, her eyebrow raised. 

Her expression was very teacher-like. Albus Held up his hands apologetically. 

"Pardon us, my dear. Do proceed."

Minerva put down her cup and cleared her throat, dusting her robes as she gathered her thoughts. Around them the staffroom was dark, save from the halo of light where they were sitting: it emanated from the fireplace behind them, and in it, the embers were dark red.

"There was a shepherd who lived in his father's cottage, on the high slope of Beinn Mhòr. He had a wife and a daughter, and the daughter was deaf and numb. His father was a very old man of a very evil temper, and one night he fell ill, and died. So the husband and his wife placed him in a bier, and the shepherd set out to town to bring back people to help him carry the body. The mother, with her little child, sat next to the fire in silence."

In the fireplace, a piece of wood, almost entirely consumed, fell from the burning pile with a thud.

"Suddenly, the mother heard the corpse move. And so the child looked up and spoke her first words: "Grandfather is rising. He will eat you; but he won't touch me."

Albus cast her a horrified glance.

"The mother caught the child and fled to the nearest bedroom", Minerva continued, "and she bared the door with everything she could find. The corpse rose and came to the door, and he began to dig away the earth under the lintel with his white hands. The mother and her girl saw his fingers, then his arms, then his head appear - but at this moment the cock crew and he led completely still."

At this point, even Severus had stopped sipping his tea.

"The corpse was there until the shepherd came back with men from the village and lifted him back onto the bier. The mother and child watched as he was pulled below the door, his horrible smiling face disappearing last. They buried him in a graveyard on the north side of Loch Eynort, at a place called An t-Uchd uidhe. There is a hole where he is buried, and you can still see it to this day."

Then, with a content smile and innocent countenance, Minerva picked up her teacup, humming softly while both her colleagues stared at her with their mouths hanging slightly open. Their own tea was long forgotten.

"That's your children's ghost story?" Severus finally said, pulling himself together. "That's the kind of bedside story your mother told you as a child?"

Minerva smiled facetiously.

"That's the Gaelic spirit for you, dear", she replied in an angelic tone.

"He will eat you, but he won't touch me?"

Albus still had not spoken. The Potion Master, turning his head slightly, glanced at him quickly. Then, turning back to Minerva, he said ironically:

"If he cannot sleep tonight and ends up knocking on your door, that is on you and the Gaelic spirit."

#severus snape #pro snape #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #harry potter #snapetober #snapetober 2023 #minvember 2023 #minvember #minerva fest #ladies of hp