#and really just harbour herself into something NORMAL.

[shadowedvalesa]

jane’s clothes are extremely important to her, as we know, because they’re a great source for expression in a way she was never allowed in the first thirteen years of her life. although she enjoys wearing hand-me-downs on the simple basis that they’re given from the people she loves the most— jane does favour leaning towards her own style and choice. she’ll go to extreme lengths and is very particular about what to purchase when she is out shopping. she likes to keep in with the ‘trends’, especially when she’s first trying out her own style, as it makes her feel included and on the same line of life as those around her. however over time she does tend to go towards things she likes, opposed to what might be ‘in.’ she absolutely loves wearing dresses, ones that either go just below her knee or just above, prefers long sleeves down to her wrists but will settle for shoulder / elbow length. living with the byers, she definitely watches joyce patching up old clothes through sewing them back together, thus finding an interest in the skill. she asks joyce if she’ll teach her, and soon jane is developing a keen passion. alongside joyce’s assistance, she’ll borrow out books from the library about sewing for beginners, and work as much as she can on it. her projects begin very small, mainly with accessories in her hair (headbands, bandanas, bows) before extending her sights a little further. her end goal is to be able to make her own dresses from the ground up, but she starts by adding on to pre-existing dresses she’s previously purchased. (u know that dress she wears at the roller rink in season 4? the random lil patches of colours with the squiggly lines?? SHE DID THAT. with joyce’s help she added those patches on, as it used to just be a plain white dress. you cannot tell me otherwise.) she goes to thrift shops, $2 shops, local markets etc on her own, or sometimes with anyone who wants to join her, to pick out fabrics and see what she likes. three months in, she’s put together her very first dress; it’s shabby and she wouldn’t wear it outside the house, but it’s hers, and it’s a great starting place. she continues on with the hobby, improving every week. about five months since beginning, jane truly begins to get into a routine, no longer needs joyce’s help, and starts crafting her own outfits. by the time school starts she’s made a few skirts (which she usually tops it off with an oversized flannel shirt, tied in a knot like we see in the season 3 finale), they all look the same, merely different colours and patterns. she makes her first proper, tidy dress a month into school, and she wears the shit out of it. it’s very summery, a light blue with a small daisy pattern covering it all. length reaches her wrist, and skirt rests in the middle of her knee. it is! the proudest she has ever been! after that dress, it all becomes like second nature to her, and very soon her closet is halfway full of her own creations.

#⁽ 𝖎. ⁾ ⠀’ are we the anonymous ones? 、 headcanons. #mobile / #long post / #kinda just think it would be neat for her to learn how to sew. #it’s something *she* would have for herself. #and able to express herself through not only her fashion. But fashion SHE has created??? #give it to her now. #it would take a while for her to learn the skill. #because her concentration can be very wavered. #and she would get distracted easily. #but she would keep at it best she can! #but it’s also a great way to improve her concentration / multitasking skills. #and really just harbour herself into something NORMAL. #majority of the designs she copies from things she sees on television and magazines. #she is constantly taping her favourite shows just to be able to pause the screen should an outfit she likes the look of comes on. #these tapes can be replaced as soon as she’s done with them. #if she sees something she likes. she pauses the screen. and just like joyce showed her #does a quick doodle of the outfit. #before transferring it to a larger piece of paper and really getting out the details. #this part is still the hardest for her as she’s not the best drawer. #it usually takes 3-4 days to get all her sketches done before she can get to work but! #will definitely helps her with this step too!!! #this skill helps her patience as well.

[eternal-moss]

Good Lord I cannot stop Simonposting

Anyway. The Golbetty shrine. Is incredibly messed up and delightfully feels like the sort of thing someone would construct after comprehending the god of chaos.

It’s clearly not Simon’s first time doing the ritual in vain (we’ve already seen him try many times in the montage at the end of the show to get her back, including consulting the Cosmic Owl and Prismo), so there’s holes in the wall that correspond to Golb’s symbols. The Enchiridion is also there, which was the main source of power for summoning elder gods like the Litch (used to resurrect himself) Golb (used by Magic Man and Betty) and (attempt to) time travel (by Betty). But before the apocalypse, the Enchiridion was owned by Simon himself, and both him and Betty studied it. So it has the twofold power of being a very strong magic battery and has the emotional link to Petrigrof.

The empty bottles and whatever those terrifying lamprey looking things are in a makeshift statue, harbouring a cleaner looking idol (which he probably created himself) out of clay. Making a statue of a god at least twice? Does that mean that even if one gets broken or damaged he has the other one? Or does it make the rituals stronger?

We know that Simon knew a bit about Golb before the apocalypse- in the final episode of the main series we have a flashback of him and Betty, where he says “I keep seeing reference to this mysterious entity that embodies chaos” and “his presence is felt in every crevice where chaos lurks”. To which Betty replies “well it’s a good thing he isn’t here then.”

She sacrificed herself to keep him safe and away from the god of chaos and madness, by fusing her soul with his. Golb being this sort of god means that he’s probably the originator of MMS (Magic, Madness and Sadness) which is a canonical condition where insane/depressed characters will have a higher propensity to magic, and magic users are more prone to bouts of mania, amnesia and depression.

The crown was basically a catalyst of MMS, which caused Simon to have unnatural elemental powers (unlike the elementals which don’t experience default MMS) as well as effecting his body and mind.

Betty is pretty much the only character to have ‘diagnosed’ MMS, recognising it in most magic users, and in Simon, hoping to undo its effects on him. Her theory is proven correct in the episode ‘Betty’ by Bella Noche undoing all the magic in Wizard City and the effects of the crown are nullified, and retracts its influence from Simon, causing him to become ‘normal again’ and regain his clarity and memories.

Grief is shown to be a strong natural catalyst to MMS, which also happened to Magic Man (after his wife Margles was ‘taken by Golb’ which still has an unclear meaning, she definitely didn’t fuse like Betty, although wishing her back at Prismo’s did the exact same thing as Simon wishing Betty back which is really unusual), and Betty herself after the ‘You Forgot Your Floaties’ episode (which by the way is like one of the best episodes in the show).

Betty’s whole motive was to save Simon and free him from madness, which she did at the cost of her soul. But now, ironically, Simon’s grief is causing him to develop it again, which is how he channels the Golb rituals (like how Betty and magic man did) and also probably how the Fionnaverse portal even opened up in the first place.

Something about about Simon having panic attacks in his house and just generally getting triggered by a lot of stuff (Ice, the books he wrote as Ice King, etc) but then gently stroking the clay idol he made of the god of madness because that’s his wife is just heart breaking

Look at that expression :( it’s longing followed by guilt because he knows this is exactly what she would never want him to do.

#Mossy rambles #The autism won today good grief #Fionna and Cake #Adventure Time #Golb #Simon Petrikov #Magic Man #Betty Grof #Petrigrof #THE TRAGIC FAMILY MAN #Simon can never have both Marcy and Betty #Marceline had a dream about having Betty and Simon as her aging parents in Stakes

[klausysworld]

Rue ruee! can you write a fluff where Klaus comforts the reader to sleep because she had a panic attack and just needs him, his snuggles and words of praise?

Never leave

(Third person)

It had been a very stressful few months.

New Orleans was a war zone and nobody had time to do anything but fight. Y/n was being put under a lot of pressure, one minute the Mikaelsons were trusting her with a big life threatening task, the next she was in the way and putting them all at risk for being an incompetent human and then the next she was protect Hope with all her might.

And so, it wasn’t really much of a surprise for her to become overwhelmed.

Her first night this week that she was able to get some sleep and she couldn’t even do that.

Her body trembled as she brought her knees to chest and hugged herself tightly. Her heart pounded to the extent that her chest felt tight, suffocating almost. Her breathing was rushed and tears slipped down her face despite her desperate efforts to not cry.

Down the hall Klaus lead in his bed on his back. Something felt off, wrong. His fingers tapped against his arm as he focused his hearing through the house. Hope was okay. He made sure of that first. Straight after he checked on Y/n, his little human. Someone he had quickly taken a liking to, something unusual for him and his siblings. She always did as asked and was loyal to a fault. He liked how determined she was even though she did not harbour any supernatural abilities, she kept Hope safe, almost like a second mother to her. Klaus could imagine her as a mother, the mother to his children. He knew how she looked at Hope as though she were her own. He cared for y/n much more than he would admit.

And it’s because of that care that he didn’t hesitate for a second when he heard the broken sob from her bedroom, the bedroom that he had urged her to have.

His legs moved fast as he reached for the handle, he twisted it quickly but it was locked.

“Y/n? Sweetheart come open the door” he called softly still rattling the handle. He only heard her cry louder, her heart beating far too fast, fear filling his senses, she reeked of it.

Without missing a beat he forced the door open, he paused seeing no danger in the room only her. Just her curled into herself shaking and sobbing. He hastily made his way over to her and put a hand on her knee but she flinched instantly making him move away, ignoring the small small pang of hurt that hit him seeing her afraid of him.

“My love” he whispered as he sat down on the edge of her bed, his hand slowly, hesitating moving to touch the back of her head, his fingers feeling her soft hair. “It’s just me sweetheart, it’s Klaus” he muttered stoking her head gently. His heart ached as her voice cracked when she echoed his name back in question.

Carefully he slipped further into the bed, pulling her tense body onto his lap, his hands tacking hers in his and interlocking their fingers

“It’s okay sweetheart” he whispered but she only cried louder, his brows furrowed as he frowned and kissed her head

“I need you to listen to me love, can you hear me okay?” He asked softly and she nodded against his chest

“I need you to take some deep breaths with me okay? I’m going to as well” he told her and she nodded weakly to his words. He helped her sit up a little more, still against him just upright as his arms circled her loosely to not constrict her

“Ready?” He uttered before instructing her to take a deep breath. They held it for several seconds before they both released, she did so slightly before him as she struggled to slow her breathing so much.

“Good girl, you’re doing great y/n, just go again” he encouraged and she breathed deeper than the last time. They both repeated their pace until her trembling ceased. Her heart slowed down to near normal, only slightly higher. Her nails dig into the bare skin of his torso as she clung to him, unaware he was only in his boxers to sleep. He ignored the way her nails broke through his skin, just kept petting her back and whispering sweet praises to her.

“It’s all okay now, everything’s better” he told her quietly, she made no noise as she kept ahold of him tightly and cried silently. His hands moved to hold her face, his thumb gently swiping her tears away as he shushed her softly

“You’re okay, you’re safe” he reminded.

“I’m sorry” she whispered and he held her a little tighter

“Don’t be sorry” he murmured kissing her forehead before tucking her under his chin

“Just close your eyes, you’ll feel better when you have rested” he persuaded

“I’m so tired” she cried as he lead down with her still on top him, the blankets pulled up over them

“I know sweetheart, just sleep” he rubbed her back encouragingly but she shook her head

“No Klaus, I’m tired of everything” she whispered and he squeezed her in reassurance

“I can’t do this anymore”

His heart stung at her words, her pain filled tone

“You don’t have to do anything your don’t want to, you’re so strong, brave. I’ll keep you safe, wherever you want to go” he promised keeping her pressed against him.

“It’s too much here” she told him and he nodded in agreement

“I know, i know” he muttered trying not to get emotional.

“Let’s just get to sleep for a bit okay?” She nodded in response and her grip on him loosened. Her hands resting against him while her face nuzzled his neck

“Please never leave me” she whispered and his chest felt tight

“I will never, never leave you”

He kept her glued to his chest for the entire night, all the next day despite his brothers yelling that he needed to get on task. Klaus kept everyone away from her to keep her relaxed, they sat in his room with little toddler Hope playing with her toys on his bed as he kissed his loves head as he lay with her.

He knew that in another life, every day would be like this, just them three, their own family.

#klaus mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikealson fanfiction #niklaus imagines #klaus michaelson #the vampire diaries #klaus m #klaus mikaelson x y/n #the vampire diares imagine #kol mikaelson #tvd klaus #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #tvd universe #klaus mikaelson headcanon #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson yandere #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader #tvdu imagines #dom!klaus #tvd imagine #tvdu fluff #tvdu fanfiction

[sweetandscarlet]

unrequited love | pt 1

notes: hi everyone ! it’s been a while since i’ve posted something, unfortunately it was out of my control up until recently and i’m finally not shadowbanned :)

words: 4.2k

warnings: stepmom!wanda (32), stepdaughter!reader (22 & afab), yearning, alludes to smut in certain parts of the chapter ! eventual smut, eventual cheating - this chapter is just fluff, reader being an absolute simp for wanda and plot building. next chapter which i’m working on will literally just be pure smut (with a little bit of plot, idk how many parts i want to make this tbh). minors DNI!

guilt had become the constant in your life.

you had never felt such a strong feeling before, and as much as you tried to swallow it down and go about your day as normal, the gnawing ache of shame ate away at you until all you were left with is a hollow shell of disgrace.

in your defence, you and your little life were perfectly fine before now, it was you, your dad, a few close friends and your wonderful girlfriend who you had been dating for quite a while now. you were content and happy until a certain woman came crashing into your life unexpectedly like a bulldozer and flipped your world and everything you knew upside down.

albeit, none of this was her fault. all she did was meet a man and fall in love. how was she supposed to know the man had a shitty daughter?

well, that's how you'd best describe yourself. you felt sinful and disgusting every time your eyes stayed fixated on the older woman for a second too long. every time a smooth patch of her skin was exposed from her shirt innocently riding up and all you wanted to do was reach out and feel her soft, milky skin under your fingertips. 

or your mouth, either or was fine with you.

you hated how much of the woman consumed your thoughts throughout the day. what she was doing, if she was having a busy day at work, if she'd had plenty of sleep, drinking water, was taking care of herself.

all thoughts that you should be relating to your girlfriend, not your stepmother.

but alas, you were and all you could do was pretend like the woman wasn't the first thing on your mind when you woke up and the last thing when you went to sleep.

it was proving really hard to do when she wasn't a cliched wicked stepmother. you honestly would prefer it if she was, but instead, she was perfect, poised and so, so pretty. she treated you like you were her own and was so sweet to you, it made you feel sick. 

you were now six months into your spiral of shame. your stepmother and father were happy and your girlfriend was still blissfully unaware of the crush you harboured for the older woman. you kind of wanted to pride yourself on how well you've hidden the feelings. it was painfully difficult, to say the least. she was and is the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes on. so smart and funny and charming and-

"y/n, are you listening to me?"

your head shot up as a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. the voice belonged to a concerned redhead who was perched in front of the island in the kitchen, her hands skillfully cutting up vegetables for the dinner you'd be sharing.

"i- sorry wanda, i'm just tired. i didn't get much sleep last night. what were you saying?"

the older woman frowned at that. her mind thinking of all the possibilities as to why. were you stressed about university? girlfriend trouble? the strong urge to fix whatever problem you had quickly replaced whatever thought wanda currently possessed.

"aw no, how come, my love? are you using the tea i bought for you? you know, my mother always said-"

"chamomile tea helps you get eight hours of sleep, i know, i know. are you sure you're not just making that up?" you tease, an eyebrow wiggling at her as she continues to dice her bell peppers. "i mean, as a soon-to-be holder of an english lit degree, i for one have never heard of that saying"

wanda eyed you playfully, her hands still working on autopilot as the knife carefully sliced the ingredients below her. you had seen her do it plenty of times before and it still never failed to impress you.

"well, smarty pants i think you've forgotten i'm sokovian. ever heard of a little something called translation?"

you rolled your eyes at that. of course, you hadn't forgotten, it was also another aspect of wanda that consumed your every waking thought. the way her r's rolled off of her tongue, her accent growing thicker the sleepier or more frustrated she got.

everything about her voice never failed to make you ache with want.

“ya trenirovalsya, mozhesh' skazat'?” you gaily shot back, a small smile playing on your lips when you saw the redhead's eyes widen in surprise.

“my my, smart girl indeed, i can tell. you’re getting better" wanda mused as her gaze from you dropped to finish off the last of the vegetables before turning around to put them all in the simmering pan on the stove. "now, why aren’t you sleeping properly?"

your eyes slowly fell, the gnawing guilt returning as they landed on the swell of the sokovians' ass.

“uh, no reason” you mumble in response, your eyes staying trained on how well the jeans hugged every curve of hers. “i think it might be uni stress”

i’m lying. it’s you, i can’t stop thinking about you.

wanda placed the cutting board on the countertop next to the stove before turning back to face you. your eyes instantly dart up and you just pray she didn’t catch your lingering stare.

if she did, wanda didn’t show any sign of it.

“i’m sorry darling, is there anything i can help you with?”

you shot her a lopsided smile before clearing your throat and answering with a “i’ll be okay once finals are over, but thank you”

“i might not be your mumiya but i’m always here if you need me”

i do need you. in more ways than you know.

“that's mommy, right? well, you're a better one than she'll ever be”

it didn't dawn on you until a few seconds later. your mouth just moving without ever thinking about how it would sound.. or maybe you're just overanalysing this? your gaze drops to your hands as you mindlessly start playing with your fingers nervously. not everyone believes that word to be sexualised, right?

“i-“ wanda cleared her throat, turning to busy herself with the pan behind her. “i’m glad you think of me as such, malysh” 

the older woman gripped at the wooden spoon she used to stir the food with. “now, why don’t you get your father from his study and i’ll dish everything out”

you were thankful wanda had yet to turn around, as a shy blush must be evident on your cheeks right now. “sure, wanda. thank you, by the way, it smells great”

the redhead couldn’t help but beam at your approval as she continued to mindfully stir the food before turning the gas off and moving the pan to an empty burner.

when she heard your footsteps retreat, wanda let out a sigh as her hands fell to grip the counter in front of her, willing herself to calm her beating heart and the pulse that formed much lower.

ᗢ

"so, how's it going with kate, y/n?" your father wasn't one to ask too many questions. the man would always let you do as you please, even as a kid. of course he was protective, but he also trusted your decisions. thus, usually keeping his curiosity to himself. "i haven't seen her around here much lately"

you continued to chew your food before raising your head to meet his small smile and kind eyes. "we've just both been busy, i guess. i am seeing her tomorrow though, we're going to a party and then going back to her house after"

the sound of cutlery clattering on a plate made you jump, the noise cutting through the silence of the room like a knife and you instantly turned your head to where the sound came from.

wanda sat there, unfazed at her disturbance as she stared back at you. her eyes narrowed in on you as she pursed her lips. "a party? what kind?"

you let out a chuckle at the question, your mind not quite registering the redhead's hard gaze and peeved demeanour. "the kind that you don't really remember the next day? you've heard of them, right?"

wanda sucked the tip of her tongue between her pearly white teeth and fought the urge to correct you on your bratty attitude. in actuality, if she was being honest with herself, you didn't have one at all, you were being your usual playful self. the older woman was just taken aback and albeit slightly annoyed at the mention of your partner. 

but, she was just looking out for you, right? like a good mother should, even if she was a step.

"yes, sweetheart, parties were around in the eighteen-hundreds"

the sound of your laugh helped ease some of the tension in the sokovians shoulders and she couldn't help but let a smile shine through as it echoed throughout her mind and invaded every sense of her being.

"damn, you all partied during the ipswich witch trials? that's hardcore, wanda, even for you"

wanda chuckled in response. "oh yeah, but i was just celebrating because i wasn't caught"

you sniggered at that, replying with a, "do you reckon i could still get the bounty if i ratted you out?" before returning to your food.

the redhead let out a playful gasp, her arm stretching over the corner of the dining table to swat at your shoulder. "you wouldn't dare! plus who would make you all these meals if i'm burned at the stake?"

you hummed at that, your finger coming to rest on your chin as you tapped at it, pretending to linger in thought on the question. "you make a point and i don't think i could survive without them"

the redhead beamed proudly at that before she heard the telltale sign of her husband's impatience and feelings of being left out as he cleared his throat.

"so, about that party, y/n. when are you thinking of leaving?" he asked, before placing his fork on his now-empty plate.

wanda mentally rolled her eyes, her sour mood instantly returning at the question. that was until an idea popped into her head and the scowl that formed on her face quickly inched into a smirk. "how about you stay in with me tomorrow night instead? your father will be gone for his conference and i could sure use the company"

you struggled to swallow down your food as your mouth dried up and you immediately reached for the glass of water to ease it down.

"oh, that's a great idea!" your father intervened, the sound of wood scraping against the floor as he pushed back his chair and stood up. "a bit of mother-daughter bonding time might help alleviate your stress"

your eyes stayed trained on your plate as you tried to muster up any excuse you could think of as to why that wouldn't be such a great idea.

unfortunately, your brain short-circuited and your mind went blank.

"i- but what would i tell kate and the rest of my friends?" you asked, your head raising to meet the redhead who was already staring back at you.

you wanted to audibly groan at the way she looked at you. soft, doe eyes bore into you and you found it impossible to deny her.

"you know what, just leave it with me, i'll tell them you're sick or something and i need to take care of you"

wanda's plump lips instantly curled into a smile at your response. exactly y/n, she thought. you need to take care of your mommy.

ᗢ

the next morning you were awoken by the sound of a sweet voice humming the tune of a song you didn't know, the sound started small until it faded into earshot and grew louder.

you turned your body onto your back to stretch, and your eyes soon flickered open to see wanda towering over you. a mug of steaming tea in one hand and two slices of toast on a small plate in the other.

"good morning, i thought i'd bring you breakfast in bed" the older woman smiled before placing them down on your bedside table.

when your eyes properly came into focus, you gulped dryly at the sight.

wanda was wearing a silk scarlet nightgown with a matching short robe to match, the colour was a striking contrast to the milky skin that lay underneath and your eyes flashed down to see she had yet to put on a bra. the cold morning air was clearly evident in the room as your eyes trailed away from pebbled nipples that strained behind her nightwear.

shit.

"thank you," you managed to croak out, one of your hands reaching up to wipe away the sleep from your eyes, using your other to push yourself upwards to rest your back on your pillows. "i'm excited for today, do you have anything in mind for what we should do?"

it took everything in you to not reach out a hand to yank your stepmom into your bed and have your way with her. because, god, how you longed to feel the warmth of her body underneath you as you trail your fingers over the apex of her hips and down to her soft thig-

"me too, malysh. i have some errands to do first, so while we're out we could do some shopping and grab some food?"

you nodded in response, a shy smile playing on your lips as the older woman's eyes bore into you. under wanda's gaze, you felt minuscule like a goddess who was staring down at you, a lesser deity.

but the sokovian never saw you in such a light, in her mind you were a woman worth worshipping. a magnificent being that should be held up on a pedestal for all the world to adore.

"good, i'll go and get dressed while you eat and get ready"

ᗢ

a few hours had passed since you woke up, and both you and wanda were now walking around the mall aimlessly with no destination or rush to be anywhere. the two of you just spoke about anything and everything until the occasional gasp left your lips when something caught your eye in a store window.

"do you want it?" the redhead would ask, her eyes trained on your face to gauge your reaction.

most of the time your eyes would widen upon seeing the price before sighing in defeat and setting it back on the shelf and muttering, "no, it's okay. i'll wait until my birthday or something"

against your wishes, wanda would pick up what you held in your hands moments ago before waltzing over to the tills, her hips swaying with purpose as she quickly pays for it. wanda then walks back to you like it was no big deal with the said item now in a plastic bag as she hands it to you.

soon enough you were now walking through the mall with a few bags in your hands and wanda carrying the rest in hers.

guilt weighed heavy on your chest as you looked down at what you were holding. wanda, who was walking a couple of steps in front of you turned to see your bottom lip jutted out and your eyebrows contorted.

"what's wrong, detka?," her legs came to a stop and her face was quickly etched with worry. "do want to leave?"

your eyes instantly met hers and you could feel the guilt building up your throat, threatening to spill at any given moment. "what? no, of course not! i'm sorry... i- i just feel bad that you've gotten me all of this stuff. i can't imagine it came cheap"

the sokovian shook her head with a chuckle. "don't worry about money, sweetheart i'm fine.. plus you deserve it. i want to spoil you, so don't feel bad about it"

as much as you wanted to argue that you didn't deserve it, you bit your tongue and smiled in response. "you're right, thank you wanda. i am really grateful for everything, although i do still feel bad, is there anything i can do for you?"

full pink lips curled into a small smirk at the question. there was definitely something she wanted you to do but she knew she could never ask that of you, could never step over the line and cross a boundary that should remain uncrossed.

you watched as wanda pondered for a moment before shaking her head. "thank you, y/n. but, i don't want anything in return, just being with you today is enough"

your heart swelled ten times at that and you instantly felt your heart beat deep and fast in your throat. this woman was going to be the death of you.

ᗢ

"so, how about i open a bottle of wine and you pick a movie for us to watch?" the sokovians' voice echoed loudly in your mind, pulling your attention away from the bags filled with everything wanda had bought for you.

you raised your head to see wanda standing in front of you. the position of you on your knees on the carpeted floor instantly dawned on you as the older woman's figure towered over you. you gulped dryly before pushing yourself upwards on your hands to stand face to face with the redhead.

"of course, wands. any suggestions?" you asked meekly, shifting your weight on your feet slightly as you tried your best to maintain eye contact with her.

your stepmother shrugged in response before taking a step back you almost wanted to whine and close the distance between you but you swallowed down the urge and kept yourself still, frozen like a statue.

"your choice, dorogoy. i'll be right back with the wine" and with that, wanda took even more several steps back until the distance grew. she then rounded the sofa and entered through the swinging door and into the kitchen.

you breathed a sigh of relief, a breath you didn't even realise you were holding. you willed yourself to calm your beating heart and moved over to the cabinet beside the television, your eyes scanning the selection of movies and box sets of tv shows.

your lips instantly curled into a smile upon seeing a certain one.

you opened the glass door before sliding out the box set, your hands racing to pull out one of the discs and quickly place it into the DVD player. you couldn't wait to see the look on wanda's face when she sees the loading-screen play on the television.

you heard the door swing open once again, wanda's sweet voice sounding behind you as she began to speak. "so what did you decide on?"

a gasp left her lips when her eyes landed on the television and saw the loading screen of her all-time favourite tv show.

"oh my god, the dick van dyke show?!"

you stood to turn around and face the older woman and you felt pride beam brightly in your chest at the smile that was plastered on her face.

"yeah," you said sheepishly, your cheeks flushing a hint of pink. "i know it's your favourite"

wanda stepped closer to the sofa before reaching down to place the two wine glasses and the bottle on the table in front of it. "you're too sweet, detka. i don't even think your father remembers that"

the pride enlarged even more at the fact and you couldn't help the evidential blush on your cheeks brightening. "well, dads stupider than i thought if he doesn't remember something like that about you"

it was now wanda’s turn to blush, and as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks she quickly busied herself with opening the wine and pouring it into both glasses, more so in hers than yours.

“i’ve actually never seen it before, you know?” you mention, before kneeling off the ground and wiping your now sweaty palms onto the jeans that hugged your thighs.

 “wow, really? well, there’s a first for everything," wanda smiled and you swear your heart skipped the smallest beat when you saw those dimples form in her cheeks. "i haven't seen that dragon show you like so much"

you make your way over to the sofa and plop yourself down, shifting slightly to situate yourself and get comfortable. "dragon sho- oh, you mean game of thrones?"

wanda hums in response as the rim of the glass sits perfectly on her lips to take a sip of her wine.

wanda watched intently as you mimicked her actions. the way your arm flexed when you leaned forward to pick up the glass and how your lips look deliciously wet as you licked away the lasting taste of the wine you had just sipped. it was a sight to see and it made the sokovian's head reel with lust.

"it's a great show," you finally respond, tucking your feet under yourself before leaning back onto the comfy cushions behind you. "i could show it to you sometime, maybe? it's well-acted and has great storylines in it, just be prepared for a lot of sex scenes"

wanda sniggers at that, "medieval porn? i'm sold"

you laugh loudly, the sound escaping you before you could even attempt to lower the volume. you almost want to apologise for the outburst but when you turn your head to wanda, she's staring back at you with a cheshire cat grin that eases your anxiety.

ᗢ

the night carried on smoothly, you and wanda laugh over the bottle of wine as you switch between watching the episodes of the dick van dyke show and talking about different topics and interests. the drunker you get the more random the conversations become.

and as you look at wanda, her smile reaching from ear to ear as she watches a scene unfold on the television, it only seems to make your drunken crush-filled mind worsen.

"wanda, can i ask you something?"

you clamp your mouth shut as soon as the words leave your mouth and you instantly mentally scold your brain for speaking without so much as a thought of the possible consequences.

wanda reaches forward to set her empty glass on the wooden table before shifting slightly to turn and face you. "of course, sweetheart. you can ask me anything"

you swallow dryly, making you lift your wine glass to your lips to finish off the rest of what's in there. you chew on your bottom lips nervously, your eyes staying focused on the glass in your hand. "can you.. does it make you a bad person if you're with someone and you like someone else?"

wanda's brows knit together as the words hit her ears. she stays silent for a moment before her lips part slightly, thinking of the best way to answer such a question. "i think that's a query that could have many different answers, moya lyubov"

she pauses for a moment.

just a moment and the tranquillity makes you hear your heart beat loudly in every pulse point of your body.

"why do you ask?"

you shouldn't say it. you really shouldn't.

but, the alcohol had settled within you a while ago and it left you tipsy, needy and with a newfound confidence that screamed at you to tell her everything. to just confess even if it could leave you humiliated and deflated. "well, the thing is.."

the words faded on your tongue, quickly dying as wanda's big green eyes bore into you and what felt like, your soul.

"go on," wanda urged, her arm reaching over to place a gentle hand on top of your thigh, just below your kneecap. she gave it a soft squeeze before continuing. "you can do it"

"i'm happy with kate, she's great. but, there's this other person and i just.. i don't know what to do. i feel like such a shitty person"

wanda arched an eyebrow, her lips parting just an inch. "okay, i- how long have you been seeing this other person?"

"the thing is, i haven't, it's complicated, they don't even know how i feel"

your heartbeat was deafening as it beat loudly in your ears. you should stop, this is a bad idea.

"i can't tell them because then it'll ruin everything and i like what we have right now but, i can't eat, i.. i can't sleep, they're all i think about and more"

wanda's grip on your thigh tightened as you spoke and all your brain could do was stare at her hand, using it as a fice to focus on, anything to keep your eyes from welling up and breaking like a dam as you splurge out the truth and every pent up emotion you've felt since wanda entered your life.

"oh, honey. i'm sorry this is happening, maybe you'll feel better if you're honest with this other person? i mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

you let out a shaky breath, your eyes pricking with tears as you look up from her hand and into the sea of green that lies beneath her eyes. "you could hate me"

"i don't understand- i could never hate you, y/n. how could i?"

you didn't respond, you couldn't. the words felt trapped in your mouth, the honesty dancing on your tongue in a silent battle with your brain and all you could do was hang your head in shame as wanda's body stiffened, her hand loosening its grip on you as her face soon turned to realization. "oh"

#wanda maximoff smut #stepmom wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff/reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel mcu #elizabeth olsen

[sl-ut]

sweet cliches

THE RELATIONSHIP

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!preppy!reader

description: just some hcs about abby’s relationship with preppy!reader 

warnings: cursing, probably a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes (i was really high when i wrote this), swearing, mentions of drinking and drug use 

date posted: 29/03/23

series masterlist

y/n is much girlier than abby is, so they go through a weird transition period where they’re getting used to each other’s quirks and routines

at first, she felt quite underdressed when they would hang out; she normally wore her usual athleisure or something casual while y/n would turn up in short skirts and pretty little blouses

as time passed, abby learned to love the way that her girlfriend put in so much effort on a daily basis, and appreciated the way that her little skirts bounced behind her as she walked

y/n had also not been used to dating someone who is so physically active–she was alarmed when she would wake up at six am to abby getting up to go to the gym

abby would be happy for her to join her, though she would probably make an extra trip to the gym that day so that she could focus more on her own training rather than helping y/n

they spend a lot of time at abby’s apartment

abby’s dad is a celebrated surgeon so she can definitely afford a decent place without needing a roommate, so there’s much more privacy

she learned very early on that y/n’s dormmate was very nosy and annoying–she suspected that she may have been harbouring a crush on y/n, and much preferred to be as far from her as possible

she definitely likes to study together, even if they’re in completely different courses

there’s something very calming about spending time together while also being productive

quality time is definitely one of her love languages

abby’s not crazy into pda

she likes to be near y/n

doesn’t mind mild displays of affection like holding hands or brief kisses, but would much rather have privacy when she wants to cuddle or makeout–that way, she doesn’t have to control herself

she will splurge from time to time

she can’t head onto the field without getting a good-luck kiss, and when they go to parties together, she likes to get a little bit handsy-er for the sake of marking her territory

kisses :))

my girl is an all-or-nothing kind of kisser

she will give little pecks when she wants to tease, but for the most part she much prefers long, deep smooches

if they’re in public, she’ll keep the tongue to a minimum, but won’t hesitate to invade y/n’s mouth when they’re in private

she’s a forehead kisser, for sure

when y/n leans into her chest it's instinctual for her to press a kiss to her head, whether they’re in a group setting or not

loves loves LOVES receiving cheek kisses

when she walks her girl to class, picks her up anywhere, does something to help her out, or even when they’re just chilling, she’s constantly turning her head in hopes of getting a lil smooch

when they’re alone, abby is a hands-on kinda gal

she’s constantly pulling y/n against her chest, pressing kisses along her neck and jaw, and sliding her fingers dangerously beneath the hem of her clothing

sometimes she straight up manhandles her girlfriend

y/n sometimes tries to pretend that she was bothered by it, but she honestly loves being mauled by her big strong bear of a girlfriend (this is why y/n calls her bear)

loves to hold her in big bear hugs from behind

when y/n spends the night, abby is sure to cling to y/n like a koala once they go to bed. abby is a resident big spoon (though she certainly doesn’t mind being the small spoon from time to time)

she’s like a human furnace, so both of them need to wear as little as possible, not that she’s complaining–y/n had turned to wearing some of her bigger shirts and panties to bed at night, allowing her girlfriend an exceptional amount of skin-to-skin contact

y/n may as well forget her own name, because now she’s baby, babe, or pretty

in turn, abby almost exclusively goes by abs, honey, or bear

attending abby’s games and practices becomes a regular thing in y/n’s life

she always wears abby’s practice jersey to games and cheers louder than anyone else in the stands

she’s constantly blowing kisses and drawing hearts in the air every time that she scores or runs past

abby’s teammates tease her for being a simp

she really makes an effort to form a relationship with her friends. she doesn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend who constantly brings y/n to hang out with her friend group and inadvertently cuts her off from her own

she often encourages her to invite them to team events or to come over to her place for games or movies

y/n is constantly praising her for being such a good, attentive girlfriend

abby doesn’t think she’s doing too much beyond expectations, but always welcomes the reward that she receives

she likes to watch shows together. the kind of person to be upset if y/n were to watch ahead and wouldn’t dare do it herself

she likes when they pick long-running shows, ones that have at least six-seven seasons to keep it going as long as possible

as much as abby loves to take care of y/n, she also wants to be taken care of from time to time

when her muscles are sore after the gym, she’ll usually ask for a nice massage. she loves just laying flat on her stomach on her bed while y/n works her magic on the taut muscles of her back

she also likes when y/n helps her shampoo her hair in the shower, groaning at the feeling of her fingernails scratching her scalp

and she always feels so incredibly close to someone when she can just vent to them about all of her problems

she likes sharing music as well. from time to time, y/n will be in class and just get a random text from abby with a spotify link

baaaaabbbeeeee i think you’re really gonna like this one

fights are rare, but when they do happen, they’re usually over something quite serious

abby thinks that communication is super important, so she’s not gonna let her pride get in the way of talking over a little disagreement

but when it comes to bigger issues, like maybe one of them got super jealous and acted out in some way, things will get heated very fast

she might suggest that they take some time apart to cool off–while she wants to talk things over, the last thing she wants to do is say something hurtful in a fit of rage

she’ll always go to the gym after a big fight

working out always helps her blow off steam, and she can also think things over more clearly while she’s doing it

she’ll text y/n after she leaves to meet her somewhere to talk

she’ll listen silently as y/n says her piece

she doesn’t interrupt or disvalue her opinions, so she expects the same treatment

during breaks from school, they facetime 24/7

they both actually end up meeting each other’s parents via facetime over the holiday break

when abby graduates, she looks for a job in the same area as the school so that she doesn’t have to move too far away

they move in together at the start of y/n’s senior year

she definitely had an after graduation plan, but made slight alterations to include y/n

aside from looking for a job close to the school, she would also ask her about what kind of plans she had for herself and take those into consideration

she would be silently sitting there on her laptop, y/n assuming that she’s working on something for school or her job, and would just turning the computer to show her the detailed plan that she’d been typing up

she would have found a place that worked for both of their career plans, i’m picturing an urban area just outside of a large city

probably proposes a few years after college

she waits until both of them have started their careers and are settled enough to think about the next step in life

they wait a while before actually getting married–probably like twoish years

#lesbian #reader insert #x reader #imagines #abby anderson imagine #abby tlou #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #wlw

[eeblouissant]

I know I’ve been like almost spam posting art but I just have SO many thoughts to share I can’t help doodling <\3 here are some thoughts that have been floating around in my brain :):)

ROSE rose rose rose & her wardrobe ! I see a LOT of late 40s / early 50s (maybe a dash of 60s? But like, a dash) in the way she dresses, as someone who studies late 40s & early 50s fashion history + also dresses in it – & it’s always made me think about her sticking to an older style because that point in time would have been her & Charlies’ “younger years”. I’ve not a clue if it was intentional but oh my goodness it just makes my heart shatter. Aside from the angst she’s incredible style inspo I adore her. (On the Charlie angst, though, her girls being the first people shes loved for not having any of his traits AGH & bonus points if she hadn’t even realized she’d never jumped to comparing them until they were already settled !!! oh boy I could write an essay. Before the canon ending happens of course.)

I’ve drawn this one, but Dorothy Can Not sit in a chair. Or I guess it’s not that she can’t she just refuses to sit normally because she swears it’s more comfortable. She’ll sit with her legs up, back literally folded in half over an arm, laying down with her legs swinging over the back– Blanche definitely just 😨 when she walked in on it for the first time because how is she so flexible?! Dorothy claims it feels better on her joints than sitting normally. Blanche then attempts to copy her, for jealousy-rooted reasons, and ends up pulling something. And rose doesn’t mind because Dorothy tends to take up less room on the couch with her legs out of the way. Dorothy can never just lay down on the couch, she either gets scolded for being too tall, or her legs straight up sat on if she doesn’t move. When Blanche pulls the too tall excuse Dorothy shoots her a glare that’s just for her, because Blanche made the mistake of telling her once in the past that her height is one of the first things that attracted her to Dorothy, & now she’ll never let her live it down.

Dorothy’s canon chronic fatigue syndrome I think about a LOT. When the others hear her tossing & turning (& especially if Dorothy happens to be in one of their beds, Blanche & Rose have different ways of helping her to sleep) it becomes a race of “who’s gonna get down the hallway first & spend the night with Dorothy”. & it really is spending night with her, because nine times out of ten she doesn’t get to sleep and finds herself struggling to harbour that frustration. Normally it’s Blanche that ends up sneaking into her room, since she sometimes finds herself tossing & turning too (her episodes of tossing & turning seem to so coincidentally coincide with Dorothy’s flare ups, Dorothy says. & Blanche gives her the same jokingly offended glare every time, because she knows she’s been caught). When rose is around, although Dorothy nearly scared her off on the first day they met for suggesting it, she’s found that she really does enjoy the soft sound of her voice singing or humming her to sleep. Or at the very least to an in between place where she can feel sleepy enough to let the night fade away, instead of sitting up & letting her depression weigh her down. She thinks Rose could quite possibly be depressions cure in human form.

okay that’s all for now, I’ll ramble more another time but I’ve gotta get back to doodling before I simply explode

#the golden girls #headcanons #oh god I can’t stand them /affectionate #they’re so PERFECT #biggest missed thruple opportunity in the history of television #I’m so serious #blanche devereaux #rose nylund #dorothy zbornak

[loudsnapdragon]

it's Juno (2007) but buckingham.

On The Sleeve of How It Used To Be

robin/chrissy. minor steve/eddie. mature. 2/4 chapters. read on Ao3, loudsnapdragon. cw: teen pregnancy, brief mention of abortion, non-explicit description of awkward sex.

Not-so-secret smalltown lesbian Robin Buckley makes a last ditch attempt at heterosexuality by scoring a one night stand with her old bandmate Eddie, but while the sex does successfully confirm the annoying complete disinterest in men she harbours, it kickstarts another clusterfuck for her to deal with. She’s pregnant. And despite her better judgement, she’s keeping the baby. Luckily, she finds a recently wedded Ms. Kelley and Mr Clarke looking to adopt. But to save herself from some of the mortification, of ya’ know; blowing up like a hormonal balloon throughout her Junior year, she decides to not tell anyone who the daddy is. Not the daddy himself, not her parents, not even her favorite dingus. But as is the luck of your regular outcast pregnant sixteen-year-old, someone finds out. And like many secrets, Chrissy Cunningham doesn't make it easy to keep.

If they were normal, then the sex would have been really sweet. Eddie would say something like, ‘I’ve wanted this for ages.’ And Robin would say ‘I know.’ And then he would say something goofy and cute like, ‘Wizard.’

But unfortunately for them, the second after she settled on his lap, her knees brushing against the faded leather of the Munson trailer’s shabby couch, she realised three things.

One: There is a limit to Eddie’s goofy cuteness. He is charming, but not charming enough to pull off a stupid catchphrase like ‘Wizard.’ And the first thing he said after he entered Robin wasn’t ‘I’ve wanted this for ages’, it was: ‘Is it meant to make that noise?’

Two: The goofy-cute limit is reached far quicker when Eddie is naked, his worryingly too pink erection pressing into her thigh.

Three: This probably isn’t Eddie’s fault. Because Robin understood, suddenly, but sadly too slowly as to stop the trajectory of her first brave adventure into sex, she’s definitely gay. Super gay. The dykiest dyke to ever dyke. This ain't a switch she can unflip like Chrissy did. 

She goes through with it. Because there’s a pesky hope that she could make this work. That she might be gay, but maybe Eddie’s long hair and big lips and dangly earrings could trick her gay ass mind. She finishes the ordeal thanks to a sachet of lube and a traitorous condom he theatrically whipped out his wallet prior. She’s never been a great actress, but she thinks, maybe this time, she’ll convince them all.

Eddie kisses her forehead after he finishes. Keeps on asking if she’s alright, so she knows she didn’t put on a good enough show.

Six weeks later, stone sky ripping into the clouds, the distant haze of woodsmoke trailing the horizon, the suburban roofs shining like jewels in the cold sun, she buys a bottle of Sunny Delight from Melvald’s and walks a loop-de-loop back to Main Street. She’s loath to admit it, but sometimes Hawkins really is beautiful.

‘Well, if it isn’t Birdie, the future mother to be, back again at the nest.’

She throws the third pregnancy test into the trash by the store’s entrance.

‘Jesus Murray, try some sympathy. How did you even get a job here.’

‘Joyce is sweet on me.’ Murray shrugs from behind the counter of Melvald's, holding the bathroom key back like a prize, waiting for her to pay for the fresh pregnancy test she tossed by the register. ‘This is your fourth test today, not like your latest orange delight is going to switch the pee-pee situation.’

‘God, silence old man. Just give me the key.’

‘Pay for the pregnancy test when you’re done. Don’t think it’s yours just because you marked it with your urine!’

She snatches the key and hides away in the store’s toilet, twisting her wrist under her crotch and peeing on the stick with a creeping familiar ease. She walks out to the store, slapping the test against her palm as she waits, trying to shake out the most likely result, considering her lack of period and extremely sensitive nipples, if what Brenda says is true. 

‘That ain’t no etch-a-sketch that can be undid, dearie.’

She throws Murray the finger, but sure enough, a minute later, that evil pink plus sign appears for the fourth time, cementing her impending doom.

So she does what she normally does when faced with impending doom. She buys a pack of Red Vines, ignores Murray, and cycles over to Steve’s place.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Are you going to go Sunnyvale or Women Now? Cos’ I remember Carol saying you need a note from your parents if you go to Sunnyvale.’

Steve’s parents are never home, so they’re spread out over the couches talking aloud about her impending doom, because the Harrington’s are the type of rich to have three couches, all of them ugly.

‘I’ll think I’ll go to Women Now, cos’ ya’ know, they help women now.’

‘Yeah, I get ya.’ Steve says, sitting feet up on his couch. ‘How did you even generate enough pee for four pregnancy tests? That’s amazing.’

‘I drank ten tonnes of Sunny D.’

‘Jesus Birdie, that’s so much sugar. Your teeth are going to fall out.’

‘Doesn’t really matter if my teeth fall out if I’m dead first.’

‘Hey.’ Steve swings his leg down, throws a pillow over the coffee table and on to her couch, smiling when it hits her square on the forehead.

‘Ow.’

‘You’re not going to die. No one is going to find out. We’ll get it sorted, okay? Just tell me the time for the appointment and I’ll pick you up after.’

He looks so stupid. His floppy hair flat on his forehead, that Weird Al shirt he only wears to make Dustin happy, and those ugly basketball shorts that are two sizes too small, cos' like a freak of nature, he’s only gained thigh muscle since quitting the team. She wants to grab him by the apples of his cheeks and smush him a like a golden retriever.

‘You look stupid.’

He smiles. ‘Right back at ya.’

‘I’m going to abort the hell out of this baby.’

‘Fuck yeah you are.’

#stranger things #stranger things fic #robin/chrissy #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #buckingham #Juno #Juno (2007) #teen pregnancy #this is so self-indulgent and cringe-weird but i'm genuinely enjoying writing this and i kinda want ppl to see it

[skylarstark4826]

Seventh-year Potions was proceeding as normal, meaning that Professor Snape was walking amongst the students with a disapproving scowl on his face while said students did their best not to screw up. It was working quite well. Even Neville was relatively calm, feeling that the many tutoring sessions with Hermione were finally paying off and that his Sticking Solution would at last allow him to escape Snape’s classroom without extra homework. He checked the board again, then his book, making sure he put everything into the cauldron in the right order. His potion was bubbling happily, spurting pink sparks. Just like it was supposed to. He sighed a little in relief.

Severus Snape was walking through his classroom, feeling rather frustrated. The potion he’d assigned for today was relatively simple to make, but extremely easy to screw up all the same. As he’d told the class, the Sticking Solution was very potent, and once two things had come into contact with it, they were inseparable for a week, after which some of the stronger magical solvents could be attempted. As little as a single drop was enough to cause this effect, and since the potion was practically colourless, this usually allowed for some unusual accidents. For which he could give detentions. A lot of detentions. His supply cabinet needed organisation and filing, and he really did not want to perform such a dreary task himself. So far though, only Gregory Goyle had come through for him, and there was no chance in hell that he’d let that imbecile anywhere near his storeroom. The only reason the boy had even managed to get into NEWT Potions was a very substantial gift sent over by his father. It seemed the poor man was harbouring illusions that his son would be the next Nicholas Flamel, and as long as the “encouragement” kept coming, he wasn’t one to rob an old man of his dreams… In short, he’d sent the stupid boy back to his common room. It wasn’t like he’d be able to achieve much with the index finger of his wand arm lodged solidly in his right nostril, after all.

He walked over to peer into Longbottom’s cauldron, giving the boy his best glare and making his hand tremble as he added the last ingredient. He was very sad to admit (only to himself, of course) that the potion looked flawless. The irksome Miss Granger had undoubtedly been whispering advice in his ear again. Turning, he planned to stalk over to Harry Potter’s desk and bully him until he did something rash that would warrant detention. It wouldn’t be that hard, seeing as the boy had a temper like a minor volcano. Smirking, he took his first step when chaos broke out.

Neville’s cauldron gave a loud lurching sound and tipped forwards. Neville screamed and tried to catch it. Hermione Granger, sitting next to him, launched forwards to stop him from touching it. At that moment, however, Neville’s sense of self-preservation kicked in, and he jerked backwards, away from the rebelling cauldron. Hermione, who was throwing herself at the spot where he would have been, had he kept moving forwards, lost her balance completely and practically somersaulted over the desk with a panicked cry. Meanwhile, Snape had started to throw himself to the side, reflexes toned through his secret hobby (Pixie wrestling), when he saw Hermione fly through the air towards the floor out of the corner of his eye. And ignored it completely, rolling away from the potion.

A split moment later, he was back on his feet, looking around his classroom angrily. The offending cauldron was standing on Longbottom’s desk, someone having had the presence of mind to cast a Levitation Charm on it before it hit the floor or spilled its contents. Shooting a furious and yet disturbingly satisfied look at Neville, he announced in his silkiest voice, “Detention. Every day for a month.” He would have added a nasty comment about the boy’s utter incompetence had he not been interrupted by a wailing sound at his feet. Looking down, he saw Miss Granger lying there in a crumpled heap. He rolled his eyes.

“I trust you’ve learnt now why you shouldn’t act on your Gryffindor impulses at every turn, Miss Granger,” he said harshly, extending a hand to her. Wincing, she took it, and he pulled her to her feet. She kept the hold on his hand, and he shot her a questioning look, trying to pull away. He couldn’t. Meeting her eyes, he saw first bewilderment and then alarm. Both pulled. Nothing happened. They looked at each other again, and Snape was the first to articulate their mutual thought.

“Bloody hell!”

The classroom became even more disrupted as all the students came running from their desks to get a better look at what’d happened. A majority was hard-pressed to keep the laughter down as the scene played out before them.

“This can’t be happening!” Hermione begged frantically, tugging at her hand with all her might.

“Oh, but I think it is,” came Draco Malfoy’s gleeful voice from behind Neville’s desk. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I can’t imagine the horror of being stuck to that for a week.”

“A week!” Neville shrieked, looking like he was about to faint.

SHMOCK! Harry’s fist replied, connecting with Malfoy’s immaculate face.

Draco screamed, trying to block Harry’s furious punches.

“Mr Potter, detention!” Snape spat. “And you,” he rounded on Neville, tugging hard and making Hermione lose her balance. They both crashed to the floor where she landed on top of him and blushed bright red before rolling off his body. He glared at her. Then he got to his feet and looked around at the shocked students surrounding them. Someone had managed to break up Potter and Malfoy, who were now in the midst of issuing silent death threats to each other. He put on his severest scowl and faced the class.

“Twenty foot of parchment on every substance in this particular potion,” he growled. “Mr Longbottom, an additional 4 months worth of detentions, and I will make sure Filch is very creative.” He turned on Harry. “Mr Potter, one month of detentions for every punch you landed on Mr Malfoy. To be served with Professor Trelawney.” He smiled evilly at the shocked look on the boy’s face. “Oh, and Potter, do try to be nice to her.” The Slytherins sniggered as Harry visibly blanched. It was no secret that Professor Trelawney had a bit of a crush on the Boy Who Lived. There seemed to be a lot of ‘romantic adventures with a mysterious and spiritual woman’ in his future lately. Usually teamed with warnings of gruesome death were he to turn this ‘gift from the higher spheres’ away.

“Class dismissed,” Snape declared, making the spectators quickly vanish their potions and store away their cauldrons. Within a few minutes, the Potions professor and his best student were all alone in the classroom.

For quite some time, they just looked at each other, tugging weakly in deluded attempts to free themselves. Then practicality took over.

“There must be some way to solve this,” she said, pulling their hands towards her to study them. He stumbled with the tug.

“Unless you’re planning to invent a revolutionary solvent, the answer is ‘no’,” he answered, quite irritated.

“Then let’s.” She was looking up at him as though she’d just come up with a cure for Fire-breathing Chicken Pox.

“Let’s what?” he sneered.

“Let’s invent a new solvent, of course.”

“And how, pray tell, are we supposed to manage that, given that we are bloody glued together?” He could feel anger bubbling inside of him. She just scoffed.

“We still have two capable hands, don’t we? We’ll find a way.” He wanted to say something really nasty to that, but was interrupted by the door to his classroom swinging open and Dumbledore marching inside, a worried frown on his face.

“Ah, Severus, Miss Granger. I was told that we had a problem here.”

“Oh, no, everything’s just dandy,” Snape said in his most sarcastic voice, alternating his glares between Hermione and Dumbledore.

“Hrm, yes, well, I’m very sorry for both of you.”

“Really? And here I thought you’d be jumping with joy at me finally having found a girl who’ll stick with me,” Snape drawled. Dumbledore was starting to look annoyed.

“Really, Severus, that attitude will not help solve this problem. Now, how serious is it?”

“You want that on a scale from one to ten?” Dumbledore just looked at him, the blue eyes turning icy. “Well, unless Miss Know-it-all here comes through in her ambitions to find a new and revolutionary solvent, we’ll be stuck like this for a week.”

“A week?” Dumbledore looked slightly aghast, which pleased Snape, but then a different spark crossed his eyes, almost as though he was trying to suppress a laugh. “You know, that might not be a bad idea. Trying to invent a new potion, I mean. You’ll need to find something to do to occupy your time, after all, as you can hardly attend or teach classes in your present condition.” At this, both Hermione and Snape erupted like minor volcanoes.

“I’m not spending an entire week in seclusion with this… this student!”

“Professor, I have to go to class! I’m at the most important point of my academic career! The NEWTs will begin in a little less than two months! I can’t be absent for an entire week!”

“Oh, shut it, Miss Granger! It’s widely known at Hogwarts that you could have taken your NEWTs as early as your fifth year. I figure that the only reason you even bother coming to Potions is to show off your abilities,” Snape spat, turning on her.

“I’m not…!” she started hotly, but he cut her off.

“Oh, really? Then what could your reason possibly be? To ogle your professor perhaps?” He’d meant is as a sarcastic joke and a jibe at the way she’d so tellingly fawned over the nitwit Lockhart in her second year. He was therefore highly taken aback when she first just gaped at him and then blushed furiously, looking away. He just stared at her for what felt like a very long time, utterly incapable of processing what had just happened. He was jerked back to reality when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Hrm.” He eyed his Potions master with a serious look on his face. “Severus, despite these… ah… complications,” he smiled gently at Hermione, who didn’t meet his eye, “I hope I can trust you to handle this situation in a professional manner.” Snape just glared at him.

“I can assure you, Headmaster, that I have no desire whatsoever to do otherwise,” he said in a cold voice. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have papers that need to be marked. Miss Granger, if you please…”

Dumbledore followed the pair with his eyes as they disappeared through the door to Snape’s private quarters. Oh, dear, he thought to himself before turning and walking back up to his office.

The day passed in mostly hostile silence. After having marched away from Dumbledore, Snape dragged Hermione into his work room, where he settled at his desk and started spitting instructions to his auto-quill in a truly vicious manner. Finding herself both embarrassed and completely ignored, Hermione had settled herself on a chair next to him and started reading her Transfiguration book. Five hours later, she finally looked up, registering how hungry she was. Snape had just finished trashing the last essay, and the auto-quill collapsed on the desk, sending out a small howl of exhaustion.

“Excuse me, sir.” He turned around and looked at her with an irritated frown.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“It’s just… I’m hungry, sir. I believe we’ve missed dinner.”

“Yes, and that was completely intentional. I’m not sitting in the Great Hall, in front of the entire school, with my hand embarrassingly glued to one of my students.”

“Then how—” 

“I’ll have the house-elves send something from the kitchens,” he said simply. With that, he rose, pulling her with him, and walked through a corridor and into another room. Stopping in front of a big fireplace, he turned to face her again. “Any thoughts of what you might like for dinner?”

“I – um…” She suddenly couldn’t think about food anymore. She looked around the room in total shock. She’d expected something similar to the slightly depressing dungeon classroom, or even to his dark and slightly scary office. Just the thought that she was standing in Professor Snape’s bedroom had her shaking slightly in the knees. The fact that the bedroom was little more than a huge bed didn’t exactly help matters. She couldn’t help staring at the deep green, velvet hangings, the black coverlet and the silver cushions adorning the bed’s surface. Typically Slytherin, yet oddly attractive. She could feel herself being pulled towards it…

“Miss Granger!” Snape’s voice jerked her out of her trance, and she blushed profusely, realising that he’d just caught her staring at his bed in a very inappropriate way. She looked down at her feet, but suddenly felt a strong hand cupping her chin and lifting it to face him. She felt an odd shiver go down her spine at the contact.

“Let me make one thing absolutely clear,” Snape said in a dangerously soft voice. “I don’t know what sort of fantasies you’ve been having about me, and I don’t wish to be enlightened. Just because I’m stuck with you doesn’t mean that I’ll start treating you differently than I have for the past seven years, and I’m quite sure that by the end of this week, you will have forgotten whatever stupid weakness you harbour at the moment and gone back to hating me like a normal Gryffindor student. Now, what would you like for dinner?”

“J-Just soup and bread, please,” she answered, trying to pull herself together. Her skin still tingled from where his hand had touched her face, and she tried to repress it. She’d humiliated herself enough for one day.

The first major problem occurred three hours or so later.

“Erm, Professor, where am I going to sleep?” Hermione asked timidly, trying not to stare at the bed.

“One would have thought your allegedly formidable brain would have worked that out by now,” he drawled. When she didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes. “Naturally, since I have no wish to sleep standing, you’ll sleep in my bed. Now get ready.”

“But, sir, my things—”

“Are in the bathroom. Oh, do shut your mouth, girl. You act like you’ve never heard of magical transportation before,” he said exasperatedly and made way for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, they came out, and Snape started to undo the buttons at the front of his robes. Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

“Um, P-Professor, w-what are you doing?” she stammered, trying not to look at the skin that came into view as the robes fell apart.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, his voice even.

“Um, undressing, but—”

“Which is what people usually do before going to sleep.” He turned to face her. “Do you have a problem with that, Miss Granger?”

“Um, n-no, sir. I just thought, I mean, that we might sleep like this, that’s all,” she half whispered, indicating her robes with her free hand.

“Seriously, Miss Granger, do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to sleep in full robes? I’ve already told you that you have nothing to fear from me, and I’m certainly not going to let your sense of propriety deprive me of a good night’s sleep.” He eyed her intently, his eyes narrowing as he took in her slightly flushed cheeks and lowered eyes. “Unless,” he said silkily, “it’s yourself that you worry about. Afraid you’ll accost me in your sleep?” He was mocking her, and she felt like sinking through the ground. Mumbling something unintelligible, she crawled into bed and drew up the covers to her chin, trying hard not to notice the ripping sound that told her he’d found a way to remove his robes from the blocked arm, or the warm body that settled itself next to her a few seconds later.

Several hours later, she was still awake. He’d been right, it really was impossible to sleep in full robes. The material tangled itself around her every time she moved until she felt like she was being suffocated. Groaning, she moved her free hand to her throat, undoing the first couple of buttons. She immediately felt a hundred times better and quickly worked her way down, freeing her body. It was a bit awkward, seeing as she had to use her left hand rather than her right, but sheer determination kept her going. Finally, the last button popped free, and she shrugged the fabric off her shoulders. Not wanting to rip the robe like her professor had, she rolled it up as best she could and settled down to get some rest.

She was dreaming again, one of those highly inappropriate dreams she’d promised herself to stop having. She was in bed with Snape, curled up in his arms, one leg thrown casually over his hip. Her head was resting against his chest, and she was breathing in the scent of him, moving her cheek against the warm skin. His breathing was deep and regular, and one of his hands was massaging her lower back. She sighed. She knew it was a dream, and yet it felt so real… Moving closer against him, she pressed her lips to his chest.

He groaned.

The sound only urged her on, and her lips moved over his skin with more confidence. A voice at the back of her head told her to stop, to wake up and shake the dream, but somehow, she couldn’t quite make herself do it. The hand on her lower back slid upwards, tangling itself in her hair and pulling her up for a kiss. His lips moved over hers, slowly at first, then with more intensity as she put her arm around his neck and rubbed against him, vaguely registering the hardness now pressing against her thigh. His tongue came out to taste her, and she moaned into his mouth, encouraging him to deepen the kiss further…

Then everything came to a screeching halt.

The hand in her hair suddenly yanked her head backwards, and she jerked out of the dream. Opening her eyes, she met the black ones of her professor, glittering in a very unsettling way as he tugged harder at her hair, making her cry out in pain.

“Miss Granger, let go of my body, and I’ll let go of your hair.” Mortified, she realised that her left arm was curled intimately around his neck and that one of her thighs was keeping his hips captive. She immediately rolled away, as far as she could while still attached to his hand, that was.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what I was doing,” she said, bowing her head.

“Really, now? Why is it that I don’t believe you?”

“I – I was asleep."

“How convenient. Next, you’ll be telling me that you were having some sort of erotic dream and that you simply did not realise that you were, in fact, groping one of your professors.”

“No.” Her voice was very quiet, and she didn’t turn to face him. “I just didn’t realise that it wasn’t a dream.”

Before he could say anything else, she tugged hard at his arm, desperately trying to escape from the bed. She nearly succeeded, managing to fall off the side and hitting the floor with a pained cry. Swearing loudly, he massaged his abused tendons before getting to his feet, extending his other hand to pull Hermione off the floor. Instead of reaching out, she just lay there, face against the bed curtains, trying, not too successfully, to hide the fact that tears were creeping down her face. He waited patiently for twenty seconds before tugging at the arm where they were joined together.

“Miss Granger, compose yourself,” he chided, actually trying not to sound overly intimidating for once (which was very difficult considering his current mood). “Get off the floor, and I am willing to forget that this embarrassing fiasco ever happened.” 

She shook where she lay, pulling her legs tighter towards her, forming an anguished ball (he rolled his eyes) before finally, finally taking one deep breath after the other, calming down. After what seemed like an eternity, she stood on trembling legs and dried her eyes with a swift movement of her hand. She still wouldn’t face him.

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Without another word, he strode towards the bathroom, clenching his teeth as the pain shot through his arm when she stumbled to follow him.

“What about daisy extract?” Slow puffs of purple smoke were rising from a cauldron in the middle of the room as Hermione Granger went through yet another book on magical plants.

“A splendid idea,” came the answer from a few feet away, where Severus Snape was grinding saffron with only one hand, “if you want to develop incurable boils on the back of your hands.”

“Orange blossom?”

“Non-stop vomiting for days on end.”

“Liquorice roots and vanilla?”

“Extra ears sprouting from under your chin. Very flattering.”

“The tail of a newt then, ground with peppermint?”

“You do realise that your grade is slipping with each inane suggestion, do you not?”

He could hardly contain his smirk as the silence stretched out between them. Moving to the side to stir the bubbling cauldron, he briefly inhaled some of the purple smoke. It seemed promising.

“Bring me the ground saffron and a gold ladle, please, Miss Granger,” he said, concentration written on his face as he added one counter-clockwise turn. He could almost feel her anticipation as she placed the fine powder in front of him on the working table. He stopped stirring the potion and added two pinches of the red powder to the cauldron, watching the potion turn a shade of ruby.

“There…”

With an ease that came of much practice, he dipped the gold ladle into the potion and withdrew a small amount, holding up their combined hands and letting a single drop fall where their palms joined together. Tugging gently, he slowly moved his hand away from hers, triumph gleaming in his eyes.

Until his hand stopped, irrevocably, two inches from Hermione’s slender fingers and then shot back as though attached to a rubber band. A not-so-silent oath escaped his lips.

“Ah, Severus, Miss Granger!” Dumbledore swiftly strode through the dungeon, coming towards them. “Tell me, is there any progress?”

A thousand witty and not-so-witty retorts crossed Severus’ mind before settling on a half-strangled, “I’m afraid not”.

“That’s a terrible shame, my friend,” Dumbledore responded, not sounding overly sorry. “Luckily, I’ve managed to find someone to take your classes on such short notice, so not to worry, not to worry.”

“Who?” It was a miracle, really, how it was actually possible to speak when grinding your teeth so ferociously.

“Horace Slughorn! Your old Head of House. I believe that he will do splendidly. Had to bribe him quite exuberantly to come of course, but once he learned that Harry was still in attendance and taking Potions, he agreed quite readily. Of course, he always did have a soft spot for his mother. Lily Evans was quite remarkable at Potions, as I remember.”

“Yes,” Snape managed to spit out through his rigid jaw. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Headmaster, I have a problem to quite literally solve. Miss Granger, if you could be so kind as to hand me the scorpion’s tail?”

Turning his back to Albus Dumbledore, he vanished the ruby potion and started afresh.

“I - I’m sorry!”

Hermione’s words were muffled by the pillow she’d thrown herself into after realising that the warm, smooth skin of her professor’s neck against her lips was not a figment of her imagination.

A muttered oath came from the man next to her as he clenched his hands until the knuckles turned white and the nails bit into the skin of his palms. His mind was fighting for control, his anger boiling for having lost it at the pull of arousing dreams and soft skin against his. Thoroughly disgusted with himself and his current situation, he closed his eyes and turned inward, methodically turning his breathing back to normal and clearing his mind of inappropriate, tempting thoughts.

He didn’t speak to her as they awoke later in the morning, simply dragging her about his chambers, pretending she didn’t exist. Despite the warmth in the room, she felt chilled inside and tried to make herself as small as possible in the large chair where she was sitting. Trying to distract herself from her thoughts, she reached for the Daily Prophet on the side table, just to stare in shock at the headline covering most of the bottom of the front page.

Hogwarts Heartbreaker Strikes Again

Miss Hermione Granger (18), who three years ago caused quite a stir at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by toying with the feelings of two young men (sensitive and fragile Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived – and internationally renowned Quidditch star Viktor Krum) is again giving evidence of questionable moral behaviour, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent. Having apparently grown bored with the boys her age, the devious Miss Granger is now setting her sights on the Hogwarts faculty. Sources claim that she’s been seen often in the company of a certain Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions master (aged 38), and some say that she even shares his quarters. “She never leaves him alone,” seventh-year prefect Miss Pansy Parkinson tells the Daily Prophet. “On Monday, during class, she just threw herself at him. It’s pathetic really, how she clings to him.” Other students add that, since the affair came to light earlier this week, the suspected couple has been conspicuously absent, and the theory is that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has sent them both away to keep the truth from coming out. Though not strictly illegal, a relationship of this kind is, of course, highly unethical, and one would hope that the Headmaster of one of Europe’s finest Wizarding schools would put Miss Granger’s insatiable lust for seduction under check, in order to protect the students and staff from her assaults, as well as to protect the school’s reputation…

“Bloody bitch! I knew I should never have let her out of that jar!” Hermione screamed, throwing the paper at the fireplace before abruptly getting to her feet. “Well, this time I won’t. Unless it’s to crush her under my shoe,” she half-snarled, marching towards her wand on the desk, only to be stopped by the immobile weight of her Potions professor.

“Accio newspaper.”

She watched as he retrieved the newspaper from the edge of the flames and quickly scanned the article, eyes hardening with every word.

“Are you quite content?” His voice was very quiet, but every syllable so crisp they stung her skin.

“Wh-what?”

He didn’t face her, staring hard into the fire, the newspaper crushed in one of his hands.

“You have made a spectacle out of me and forever destroyed my reputation in this world.” His expression was stony, closed off and forbidding. “I would order you out of my sight, except for the fact that you’re bloody stuck to me!”

“Sir, I –”

“Not a word, Miss Granger.”

Tears of frustration pooling in her eyes, she fell down into her chair again, her shoulders slumped in resignation.

“Miss Granger, please get up and follow me.”

The crisp tones jerked her awake from the exhausted rest she’d accidentally found over her desk, her cheek smudged with ink from the parchment before her. She staggered to her feet and obeyed the pull on her right arm. He moved them swiftly across the floor into his private quarters, leading the way towards the bathroom.

Sighing, she prepared herself for the awkward situation of standing glued to the outside wall, her arm stretched painfully through a small hole that had been charmed on the door to keep the privacy when “attending to one’s affairs” (as her professor called it). Even with a handy Muffliato from the person inside to take away all sound, there was just no getting away from the acute sense of wrongness that she felt at sharing this very personal matter with Severus Snape. She therefore was very much surprised when he didn’t guide their hands through the hole in the door and slam it closed, but pulled her into the bathroom with him.

“Um – Professor, what are we doing in here?” she asked, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

“It’s quite simple, Miss Granger,” he answered in even tones. “I have been working tirelessly in the lab for four days on end and feel positively grisly. I intend to take a shower. And I think you should take one too.”

She couldn’t stop the small yelp from escaping as her mind started to spin. She too felt like a shower was terribly overdue, but still… Pictures of the two of them writhing naked against each other under the spray of hot water immediately surfaced in her mind and flushed her face. Surely, he couldn’t mean…?

“No, Miss Granger,” he answered smoothly, as though he’d been able to read her thoughts with perfect clarity, “I do not intend to turn the task of taking care of my sanitary needs into a rose-coloured encounter inspired by the latest romance novel! I know that rumour has it that I never set foot in a shower, never mind even own a bottle of shampoo, but since you have at least somewhat higher brain capacity than the people you socialise with, I trust that you already knew that this rumour was just that. Now get in the shower.”

“But, sir, how…?”

“Miss Granger, my patience is waning. I have had a very long day – a very long week actually – and I want to take a long, hot shower and clear my mind of this insane situation we are in. I do not want to stand here and argue with you.”

“I just –"

“For heavens sake!” He turned abruptly and dragged her over to the alcove occupied by a dimly lit shower, easily large enough for two people. “Get in.” Hesitantly, she opened the glass door and stepped inside, looking up at her professor with eyes that spoke of apprehension as he followed her.

“Thank you.” With a wave of his wand, a second glass was erected between them, leaving the same kind of hole for their hands that had previously been charmed onto the bathroom door. “Now, perform a Muffliatoaround yourself.” She obeyed once again, and he nodded in approval.

“Vaporio!”

Steam exited from the tip of his wand and attached itself to the shower walls. After a few seconds, she found herself in a steam-filled cocoon, unable to see either her professor or the rest of the bathroom. Looking around, she saw a small shelf with various shower gels and shampoo bottles and started to relax. Noting that she no longer heard any movement or sound from the other side of the wall, she realised that Snape must have also performed some sort of Silencing Charm. Though still acutely aware of his presence and the fact that he was, most likely, removing all his clothes just a few feet away from her, she managed to get her fingers to stop trembling for long enough to remove her robes and undergarments and hang them on a hook on the alcove wall. A second later, warm water was falling from the double showerhead above, soaking her. Closing her eyes, she turned her face to the spray, pure enjoyment filling her body as the water washed over her.

She remained immobile for quite some time, just letting the water fall, clearing her mind of all thoughts and washing dirt and sweat off her body. She felt stronger, cleansed and able to get through the next few days before she could go back to her own room and attempt to heal the bruises on her ego. She needed her peace of mind back if she were to get through the NEWTs, and wounded pride because the man she fancied did not want to get involved with her wouldn’t help. Sighing, she reached for the shampoo and began cleaning her hair as best she could with only her left hand to help her.

She was just at the end of rinsing the last of the conditioner from her long curls as she felt herself being pulled gently towards the glass barrier which separated her from her professor, and forced her to hunch down as her arm was turned in an unnatural angle. Moving closer, she sensed movement on the other side, and a bottle of some sort being put awkwardly between her fingers and the ones attached to them. A small shock went through her as she felt the hands turn, squeezing the bottle and letting it drop to the floor after fumbling with the cap. The next moment, her hand was touching wet hair, following the one attached to it mindlessly as it worked the shampoo into the dark strands and scalp of the man behind the glass. Closing her eyes, she tried her best to remain focused, to think about something else than the silky feeling of his hair tangled around her fingers, or the feeling of his skin as she brushed across his cheek or neck. She tried not to think about how he must look, on his knees (most likely, considering the position of her arm) and only inches away from her where she pressed against the glass. A shiver went through her, and she leaned her forehead against the barrier, biting her lip in agony as her mind spiralled into overdrive, every fantasy she’d had in the past few months coming into sharper focus with help of the sensory memories of the past few days. The position of her arm relaxed, and she realised that he must have finished with his hair and got to his feet without her noticing.

Suddenly, she felt his fingers touch her arm, and instinctively jerked, wincing slightly as she hit the upper part of the hole in the glass. With a firm grip of her hand, he started to lather her arm with soap, his fingers trailing across her sensitive skin. Feeling her body tighten in response, she let out a small moan of frustration, damning, for the thousandth time, the stupid crush that made her so weak where this particular man was concerned. As abruptly as it had begun, the washing was over, and she straightened up and took a trembling step back from the glass, trying to get her breathing to return to normal.

It hitched in her throat when she realised that the area where she’d rested her forehead was now clear of steam and showed a very clear view of the lower part of her professor’s stomach.

She watched, mesmerised, as water trailed down the taut skin, following the thin line of dark hair which continued out of view. Without realising it, her shaking hand touched the glass, wiping at the steam. Nothing happened, and she wondered if she had somehow, unconsciously, performed magic when trying to abate the rushing arousal that came from touching him before. Then, a hand came into view, stroking the skin of the flat abdomen firmly before slipping downward, exiting her range of vision. She watched the muscles in his stomach clench and unclench as the part of the arm she could still see moved rhythmically along his body. She bit back down on her lip as her mind constructed vivid images of the missing parts of the scene, showing his hand wrapped around his hard length, stroking it back and forth as his breathing grew more shallow and his face relaxed and opened with pleasure. Without thinking, her free hand found one of her breasts, and she moaned in relief as pleasure surged through her and her nipples tightened almost painfully at the touch. Not being able to keep her eyes away from the erotic scene on the other side of the glass - her mind doing an incredibly fine job of showing her what the steamy barrier couldn’t – she lost herself in the combined pleasure of the warm water and her left hand moving over her aching body.

Severus Snape stepped out of the shower, feeling thoroughly invigorated and pleasantly relaxed. Pulling Hermione with him, he moved to sit in front of the fireplace, placing an order for the evening meal to be served. Leaning back comfortably in his chair, he picked up his research notes and started to tackle the problem of finding a new solvent for the Sticking Solution with a fresh mind. His eye wandered briefly to his student where she sat in the next chair, staring into space. The fire was reflected in the damp curls around her face, and he felt a surprising pang of sympathy for her part in their situation. The anger that he’d felt towards her over the week – anger that she should so invade his privacy and make him lose control (albeit subconsciously) of his reactions when he was asleep and vulnerable to the inclinations of his body – lessened now that his body was relaxed and his mind free of its urges. Reaching out, he caught the tray of food that had just appeared out of the fire and set it on the small table between them. A good meal and a night of uninterrupted sleep, and he’d be ready to get back to work in the morning. A small smile formed at the corner of his mouth as he moved in on the food.

“Miss Granger, if you continue to exercise so little control over your teenage hormones, I shall be forced to tie your wrists to my bedposts – except I keep getting the revolting suspicion that you might enjoy that too much. Remove. Your. Hand.”

Wide-eyed and half in shock, Hermione pulled her hand away, mortified by the exploration it had undertaken in the semi-unconscious state between sleep and wakefulness. She could still feel the impossibly smooth skin under her fingers, the contradictory hardness beneath and the twisting, jerking movements against her palm. Flashes from the scene in the shower from the day before penetrated her mind, and she quickly turned, hiding her burning face in her pillow, trying to block out his scathing comments as well as the fuming voice, which she found didn’t help matters at all.

“Do you want some of the potion?”

They had worked the day away in silence, each boiling with anger and frustration. Two cauldrons simmered serenely on the working table.

“How come you are convinced that this one will work when the others haven’t?”

“It’s not an attempt at a solvent, Professor,” she said softly. “It’s a Sleeping Potion.” She looked up at him for the first time since they had locked eyes this morning. “I’m afraid I can’t turn the clock back, but I can try to make things a little easier by giving you a night of peaceful sleep.” Her voice faltered for a second before she continued, “I’m afraid that as far as the solvent is concerned, I’m quite out of ideas, sir.”

Looking around the room, about thirty cauldrons filled the working space. Each and every attempt so far had been a failure. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to bridle his frustration.

“Take your potion. We’re going to bed. Since this day seems to bring me nothing but torment, I might as well end it.” She held up a small flask to him, into which she’d decanted her potion, but he shook his head. “I have no problem sleeping as long as you let me be, I assure you. Now come to bed.”

Funny how those four words had been such a strong part of her most secret fantasies, she mused, following him, still hand in hand. The reality of him, and his words, had managed to rip away any rosy filters she might have had and replaced them with harshness. He was too prickly, too blunt, too brutal to hold the allure of romantic hope. Still, her fingers burned where he touched them.

Walking into the bedroom, she grasped the flask resolutely and downed the Sleeping Potion.

He awoke from a jumble of erotic dreams to find himself impossibly hard and her on top of him, kissing and licking his stomach, moving downwards. With a flash of panic, he realised that somehow, they were both completely naked. Twisting desperately, he managed to roll her on her back and pin her treacherous hands down above her head, trying to keep out of physical contact. Shaking her hard, he prepared to fix her with a stare and coldly tell her that her luck was out and that she would be spending the rest of the week on the floor. She didn’t wake up, however, but twisted in his arms, arching against him, moaning softly in her sleep as she struggled to get closer.

He pinched her, shook her and slapped her lightly on the cheek, said her name over and over, in a voice that lost more and more of its icy control. She still didn’t wake, but fought against him, kissing whatever skin she managed to reach and mumbling incoherent words of desire and wanting while moving with him on the large bed. In sleep, she lost the insecurity and self-doubt that he had glimpsed over the past few days. She fought against him, not to get away, but to get closer. He felt his control slipping dangerously with every touch and cursed his current situation.

The potion – it had to be the potion – was keeping her from waking up and was allowing her dreams full reign of her body. He went through all known Sleeping Potions in his mind as he tried to peel her hands and mouth off him without causing any physical harm. There was the Dreamless Sleep of course, which was out of the question since the chit was clearly dreaming; the Deep Sleep, which would have rendered her comatose and unable to move, no matter her dreams; the Enchanted Sleep, which… He suddenly jerked away, panting hard. Her hand had managed to snake its way down his body and closed around his pulsing flesh, stroking him. A groan escaped him as he managed to tear the hand away, only to be faced with the reality of her soft, wet lips as her mouth managed to close in on what her hand has just evacuated. His head swam as he tried to make sense of what was happening to him, breathing harshly as he struggled against the impulses of his body to lose his free hand in her curls and just enjoy her ministrations. His body ached and pulsated and her lips seemed to both torment and relieve him, rendering him totally incapable of coherent thought. With a last explosion of willpower, he managed to pull out of her wet mouth and roll them over, effectively pinning her down with his body.

Only to realise that he was now flush against her smooth skin, rubbing against wet heat and being effectively trapped as she wrapped her legs around him and attacked his neck with urgent kisses, begging him to come closer still.

She was walking down the path to the greenhouses with Harry and Ron, only to find a door there which normally belonged to the Charms classroom. She turned to Harry to ask if he didn’t think that this was peculiar, when Harry suddenly turned away and ran off to greet Hagrid, who came towards them, riding baby dragon Norbert (which seemed normal, in spite of the book suddenly in her hand, which said that it was absolutely impossible for a wizard or witch ever to ride a dragon). While staring at the dragon, Ron morphed into Luna on the other side of her, asking if she wanted to pet her thestral.

The dream changed…

She was in Snape’s office, working on a potion, her back aching from having been hunched over her cauldron for too long. Suddenly, he was against her back, his breath hot in her ear as he pressed himself against her, hands coming around to caress her belly. She turned in his arms, and he kissed her hungrily, lifting her up on a nearby desk and attacking her neck with his lips and tongue. Without even being aware of her own actions, she raised her wand (which was suddenly, and with no logical explanation, in her hand) and vanished both their clothes. The sensations intensified, and the kisses grew hungrier as they moved against each other, changing places and positions like clouds of smoke on a windy day. She was on her knees kissing her way down his stomach; he was pushing her roughly against the wall of the greenhouse, where she felt the stinging slap of a nearby Devil’s Snare; the two of them were rolling around on the Quidditch field, caressing, teasing, panting from excitement and effort; she was lying down, her back against the soft sheets of his bed, her legs tightly wrapped around his back as she felt him enter her, filling her body and making her moan loudly with pleasure before covering her mouth with nearly desperate kisses…

He was lost. Lost in her soft, pliant body which rocked and arched against him, lost in her wet kisses and the way her breasts pressed into his chest. He was lost in the way she moaned his name, lost in the way she moaned her desire for him, begging him to take her harder – lost in the way she whispered his name like a thing of satin and gold in his ear.

His mind had left him when his hardness came into direct contact with her wet opening, which seemed to draw him in. Plunging into her, there was no mind, only instinct and age-old pleasure surging through his body. A red haze seemed to cover everything that was thought other than registering the growing sensations in his body and the girl’s wild responses to his touch.

Surging forward again and again, he heard the breath catch in her throat and captured her moan with his mouth as he felt her come around him. He felt the sensation multiply, as it seemed to turn into a cycle of fire, fanning itself to new eruptions with each rise of flames. Shuddering, he jerked his head back, closing his eyes in rapture as he came deep within her.

Feeling his arms shake, his body near collapse, he fell down next to her, pulling her with him to keep the physical connexion. With uneven breaths, he filled his lungs with air and opened his eyes.

Hermione’s face was only inches away, her eyes open and filled with fear and confusion.

The full weight of the implications of what had just happened hit him, and he felt pure, undiluted fear for the first time since the days of the Dark Lord. Would she accuse him of sexual misconduct? Gossip to Potter and Weasley about him? Force him to marry her and have a hundred billion children with his nose and her hair? A thousand scenarios arose before his mind’s eye, growing steadily more gruesome…

And then, she kissed him. Softly, shyly almost, as though touching him for the first time. Sheer surprise stopped him from responding at first, and when the shock left him, he joined her in the careful exploration, very aware of how thin and brittle the ice was where they trod.

He felt a small smile on her lips as they left his, and without a single word she simply laid her head down close to his chest and grew still. Feeling slightly awkward, he draped his free arm around her waist and held her to him. Sooner or later, there would be music to face, but thankfully, it didn’t seem as though this was the moment.

Relaxing his muscles, he allowed his sated body to lull his mind back to sleep.

#Severus Snape #Hermione Granger #Severus and Hermione #Sevmione #severus x hermione #hermione x severus #snamione #hermione x snape

[faithfromanewperspective]

alastair/alice carstairs/jahanshah, strength and suffering

closing up alastember, a little late I’m sorry, I wanted to finally write out my thoughts on @thevagabondexpress’ characterisation of Alice, the genderbent version of Alastair. And mostly how this character got me so emotional, so much more than Alastair himself. From her POVs early on and her own insecurities and perceived invisibility to the whole shitshow with Claire and her time rebuilding and reconnecting with family and how she stood up tall (metaphorically) during the whole thing. I have to admit I did harbour a bit of prejudice towards bully-Alastair (courtesy of NBS era) but I think this re-characterisation has made me realise some things:

1) I wish we got to see this much of what happens in Alastair’s personal life in canon, I’d absolutely melt because something just does it for me about (usually) men who are prickly on the outside and yet suffer so much and through it all are proud and independent and reluctant to accept help but they finally do and it’s the most beautiful thing ever. And so a big shoutout to anyone who has fleshed this out in their fics over the last month (tumblr seems to be not taking my tagging rn, I don’t get it but you know who you are. I think). Like we did get some cuteness with Cordelia once she knew and accepted Alastair for who he really is (once the eavesdropping was forgiven). And maybe it’s easier for a woman to find comfort and emotional support from her Persian relatives than a man (seriously, when can men be emotionally vulnerable and still respected?) but I would LOVE to see Alastair free to do that, Thomas by his side.

2) is it the way that women seem more vulnerable because of Social Features or this very talented authorship that has me just feeling everything? Because the genderbent versions of all of the tlh characters are so much more heartbreaking to read, albeit and a really warm, inviting-hugs-from-reader way. Is it because Thomas always narrates the way he sees Alastair as ‘proud’ and ‘glorious’ and likened to a ‘Persian prince’ and goes on about his forearms that the Alastair we see seems someone heroic, in the way that we’re conditioned for men to ideally be and that includes a stark contrast from the Emotionally Sensitive Softhearted Men Who Are Definitely Unrecognised Neurodivergent Cassandra Clare is famous for? (Which in some ways Alastair is a nice change from, personality wise, not that he’s not sensitive but that he’s practical first, too practical to ever show how much he’s hurting). Is it because of the heartbreaking abuse situation with Claire and the ED stuff and how much we see it breaking saeed’s heart when he finds out, and also when he realises exactly what Esther has done to her and connects the dots between the two situations she should never have gone through, that Alice seems so uncharacteristically vulnerable? Because there really isn’t much difference compared to canon, except for gender and the others’ reactions likely as a result of it. Is it the way we so easily project physical attributes onto how we view someone, and maybe I’m not immune to that when I read how tiny and thin she ends up at points in her story? No matter what, it’s clear that both characters are incredibly resilient, and sometimes it’s a good thought experiment to see someone genderbent if it makes you realise that.

3) prolonged childhood trauma and parnetificarion (don’t ask me to fix its spelling. Sorry) and neglect are absolutely brutal things to go through and even though she herself was affected (and I often wonder if she was ever in Alastair/Alice’s shoes as a child) Sona does have a lot to apologise for as well as Elias. We see how it flows into relationships (ie with Charles/Claire) and when Saeed tries to make things better and holds Esther accountable, I was really glad and relieved to see that. Alastair goes through everything he does like it’s normal and he’s willing and that’s how he copes, but I’m DYING for him to realise how much better he deserves, and I’m glad, really glad, that Alice kind of makes her way towards that realisation. Because he deserves the world. So many good things. He really does.

4) the solidarity between Alice and Judith, both around Judith’s ruination, the collaboration for the house, Judith’s insistence Claude supports Alice, and there are many more occasions. I just love to see it. As women, or really teenage girls, it’s easy to see similarities between them: despite their vastly different family backgrounds they’ve both been abused and ruined, they’re both experiencing Big Mental Health Things Claude doesn’t completely understand but still tries his best to be there for. As men, or teenage boys really, we do see them working together sometimes and mostly being not too mad at each other—but there’s so much anger and a history of violence and all the never fully resolved things from the academy that still grate against me. Because of Cordelia in the middle of them who would do great as Claude does to have the siblings in law have a relationship of solidarity, but also because the similarities are there and I just so badly want to see them heal together. I think with Thomas and Matthew’s help they’ll get there, but I also don’t think we’ll see it in canon. I guess if I’ve learned one more thing from this, it’s that that’s what fanfiction is for.

to wrap this up I’m going to make a few final additions to the Alastair playlist (who do I tag for this?? Please, trust my song selection!) that both differentiate Alastair and Alice and also bring them together. Firstly, because the SGFG brainrot shows no signs of expiry, these two 5 seconds of summer songs are applicable to both of them, yet one is more one and the other more the other, as you will see:

-invisible. This is SUCH and Alice song, from the first time we meet her, and hear how ‘what she does best’ is disappearing. i was already missing before the night I left/just me and your shadow and all of my regrets (bold because italics decided to Not Work. I’m never writing a long post on my phone again) anyway to me this captures so much of how Alice is feeling. I feel like being a woman she’s able to be more vulnerable about this than Alastair who is definitely feeling this but to him it’s normal, and I think hidden behind the family responsibility he feels, he normalises it and doesn’t even acknowledge it as something he’s dealing with

-jet black heart. Everything about this is Alastair. From the “hurricane underneath it trying to keep us apart/I write with a poison pen/but the chemicals moving between us are the reason to start again” (Thomas lightwood, do you know how magical you are?) to “the blood in my veins is made up of mistakes” (the one line I need Alastair AND Matthew AND James AND Grace to all bond over) it’s just. Utter perfection and I’ve never seen such hope and self-deprecation co-existing before. “Maybe there’s nothing after midnight that could make you stay” reminds me of Charles and Alastair and how he takes that hurt and the view of himself it builds into his relationship with Thomas. I don’t think Alice is quite as self-deprecating and it’s more than being left that she goes through, control and many many bad things—I hope she finds some radical love for herself and stays away from self deprecation. But it’s a good song, so it stays

-youth by shawn mendes feat khalid is one I love that so captures the hope and pride and dignity and determination to do good despite everything that’s been done to them that both Alice and Alastair have. Pain, but I won’t let it turn into hate, no I won’t let it change me. (Look, italics works again smh) and this soul of mine will never break/as long as I wake up today, you can’t take this youth away

-finally, one that’s about family and because I seem to connect everything with the same 5 musicians, it’s Scar by Ashton Irwin. Talking to his mother, younger sister and baby brother it even fits Alastair’s family perfectly—but Alice is the one who bonds with her grandmother and Persian relatives. And the “can you help me be a better man” is just so. So what Alastair longs for without having had that guidance as a child.

#alastair appreciation month #alastair carstairs #genderbent tlh #genderbent tsc #song recs #music recs #by (shameless tag promotion) #5 seconds of summer #shawn mendes #ashton irwin #alastember

[storms-path]

FFXIV 2023 Day 6 - Ring

It had been a long, exhausting series of goodbyes, but it was all finally over and done with. The ship had left harbour, and Lyse could finally find some peace in her private cabin. Small, cramped and smelling of stale ale, it would be hers for the next several weeks while the Scions made the long journey back to Limsa Lominsa. Back to Ala Mhigo.

Wait for me, Curtis. We’re coming home. Lyse fought down the trepidation the thought brought with it. If Hien could secure Doma and bring down the mad viceroy, she could do the same with Ala Mhigo. Especially with Arashi at her side. And her sister too. A healthy dose of good news to counteract the bad. Gosetsu would be immortalised for his sacrifice. The man who bore the weight of a palace to save his lord.

Lyse swayed with the ship as she made her way through the slightly-too-small interior. The good captain claimed it was necessary for it to cross the ocean as quickly as it did. Lyse privately thought that was rubbish, but she’d learned to keep such thoughts in her head. Papalymo would be proud. The thought sent a small spike of grief through her, but she pushed it away. There would be time to unpack that later. She wasn’t going to cry herself to sleep in a “former” pirate’s ship, that was for certain. Not tonight, at any rate.

Lyse paused as she neared the door, noticing through the gloom that it was just slightly ajar. Certainly not unusual given the jostling of the tides, but something about it set her on edge. It was all too likely that a Garlean spy or sympathiser had snuck aboard, ready to get revenge against the revolutionaries. Or maybe it’s just been knocked loose and you’re being silly. Still, Lyse gently nudged the door open with her foot, prepared for combat all the same.

She did not find a Garlean assassin. What she found instead was a small, slight Au Ra woman sitting patiently on the bed. She appeared to be running a knife through her long, straight locks of violet hair, apparently unconcerned that she was in someone else’s room. Deep blue eyes slowly turned to look at Lyse, an expressionless face arresting her gaze. Sanda Washi was an odd one, but even knowing that Lyse was unprepared for the whisper-soft question that emerged from the stranger’s lips.

“What are your intentions with my sister?”

It took Lyse a moment to process the question, followed by a further moment to really, actually digest it properly. Still, all she could manage was a quiet “What?” in response.

Sanda, unperturbed, repeated the question. While her tone was perfectly neutral, there was an undercurrent of steel beneath it. And the knife in her hand, so casually held…

“I… don’t? Arashi’s been a good friend to me since we first met in Gridania. I don’t intend to use her for anything. That’s not what friends do.” Even if I wish we were more. The thought came unbidden, crystallising something that Lyse had been trying to avoid realising ever since Moen’s funeral. Too late now, I suppose.

“You’re lying.” The words were colder now, steel rising to the surface. “Tell me the truth. What is my sister to you?” Sanda had crossed the gap between them in a blink, looking up to stare Lyse in the eye. Demanding everything and promising violence if unsatisfied. Normally Lyse would have already begun brawling with the diminutive woman, but she had the distinct feeling Arashi would not be happy to see her sister with some fresh, fist-shaped bruises.

Instead, Lyse told her the truth. “I think I’m in love with her. And I’m terrified of telling her because if I do she might not feel the same way, and after Papalymo I can’t handle that kind of blow to my heart, not now and not with my homeland at stake and oh gods what if she leaves and I never see her again?”

Sanda went from grim confirmation to surprise and finally to pity in a matter of moments. Lyse felt an awkward pat on her shoulder, the Au Ra reaching up on tiptoes to reach it. For a few moments the two were wrapped in a silence so awkward historians would quietly leave it out of their detailed events of the Stormblood campaign. But then Sanda broke it as gently as she could.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Lyse nodded. Sanda nodded back and led her into her room. The door closed with a quiet click.

The two never spoke of what they discussed, but at the end of it Sanda left without a word and Lyse was left with a gold ring and a promise. “When the time is right, give her this. And make sure I’m invited to the ceremony.”

Sanda, it seemed, had high hopes indeed for the Ala Mhigan and Sanda’s sister, the Warrior of Light. I suppose I’d better try and live up to them.

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #sanda washi #lyse hext #phew! three in one day #but now i'm back on track and ready to immediately fall off for day 7 #this one came to me as i was getting home from work #and it felt so awkward and silly to think about that i had to do it #a rare occasion where the pov is not one of my wols #enjoy it while it lasts for it most surely will not

[yuniemaki]

Tag from @ladytirall - presenting my next beiguangst wip, title undecided (hehe)

“Ningguang.”

Slender fingers pause mid-motion, curled around a bishop piece. Beidou’s gruff voice is soft, quiet — unnaturally so. Ningguang hates it when she takes that tone, especially when she takes it during their games of chess. It’s as if they can never speak of sensitive matters without a chessboard between them, without a distraction to focus on.

“I have something to tell you.”

The Tianquan says nothing. She keeps her eyes on the chessboard, as if not answering will change what’s coming. She knows, of course. No conversation in Liyue Harbour escapes her eyes and ears. She knows the Alcor has been restocking their supplies five times as much as they normally do. Still — the words hurt to hear.

“I’m leaving.”

Despite herself, a soft sigh escapes her lips. “Where to?” She sets the bishop carelessly on a white tile.

Beidou picks up her pawn. “Inazuma,” she says, moving the pawn two tiles ahead. “Then Sumeru. And further west.”

With a flick of her finger, she eats Beidou’s knight, still not meeting her gaze. “Alright.”

“I’m not coming back,” the captain says softly, eating her rook in return. “Not… for some time.”

A year. Maybe longer. 

Ningguang finally lifts her head. Beidou looks calm, but her shoulders are tense, corded muscles flexing ever so slightly as she wrangles her fingers under the table. “And why is that?” the Tianquan asks softly.

“It’s my dream…” Beidou sighs. It is her turn to study the chessboard intently as she continues: “My dream to sail all of Teyvat. The sea is my home.” You know that. “This… this isn’t it.”

Of course, Ningguang knows this. She’s known this the day Beidou answered her summons and challenged her to a game of chess to offset her fines. She’s known this moment would come as soon as their matches became a weekly thing, became daily, even. She’s tried, time and time again, to keep herself distant, to conceal herself behind jade screens and tufts of smoke.

Yet somewhere along these few months, that hearty laugh and infectious grin wormed its way into her heart. 

“I’m happy you’ve found your dream,” Ningguang says simply, well aware it’s her turn on the board. She places her hands gently on her lap, refusing to allow this distraction to go on any further. She stares at Beidou, really stares — wandering over every strand of hair and every blemish on her face, committing every line and motion and scar to memory. 

Beidou can’t do the same without looking away. “And I you,” she mumbles, gesturing vaguely all around her at Ningguang’s opulent office in the Jade Chamber. If only she understands why the decorative screen behind the guest table holds a painting of a ship; or why the porcelain vase that shines with the iridescent mother-of-pearl sits right at the corner of her shelf, where the morning sun will strike it in a way that makes it shimmer like the sea.

“Thank you,” Ningguang murmurs, taking a drag of her pipe. The sweet tobacco burns her throat.

Beidou cocks her head to one side. “What for?”

“For this.” She gestures with her pipe at the chessboard between them. “For the fond memories.” She leans forward. “For telling me.” Slowly, Ningguang reaches out, laying a hand on Beidou’s clenched fist in a feather-light touch. “I… love you.”

Beidou stiffens.

Ningguang pulls away, taking another drag. “You don’t have to say it back,” she breathes out the words as easily as smoke.  “You only need to take care.”

Beidou stares, her ruby eye soft and tender, a swirl of emotions within that Ningguang can’t decipher. She merely inhales more smoke again, closing her eyes. 

I’m just glad I met you.

You are tagged!! @cadriona

#wip whenever #beiguang #inspired by that one comic i can't find anymore aaaaa #yuniewrites #fic wip #current wip

[definesanity]

Early To Bed, And You'll Miss All The Fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, you officially hate Phillip. Joking, but you're incredibly close to killing him.

-

It was bad enough that you discovered a secret passage way into a long array of tunnels, but even worse when you found... something.

-

It was made of what looked like ink, and when it saw you and your staff, it took an immediate disliking towards you.

-

And now? You're running away as fast as you can, and also wondering what in the hell it is anyway.

-

Turning a corner of the desolate tunnels, and then a sharp right, the monster was hot on your heels until it fell into your trap; a piece of the floor was caved in, and the ink fell through. Not turning back, you continued on, using your staff to create help you levitate.

-

'What's Collei and Hank up to?' you thought. Probably having a more fun time then you, at least.

-

Oh, random trivia: you've apparently arrived in Genshin five or so months before the Traveler wakes up.

-

How about them apples, hm?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Collei was beginning to get slightly disturbed by Hank's robotic eye.

-

Granted, she knows the android can't really help that, but the more she became aware of it, the more the green-haired girl noticed how much of Hank's body moved. As in, the body's 'skin' itself.

-

Sometimes, when the two are out of the view of those in the Harbour, Hank stops to ponder... something. Maybe something from Khaenri'ah, or just something entirely normal, but Collei is made acutely aware of her face plates moving. And, along with her being able to sometimes see the sleeping face of Chiyo, she always finds herself looking away, shivering in misplaced disgust.

-

Thankfully, Hank caught on to it, and made sure to always look away from her.

-

Back out in the open, Collei took a moment to look around; from merchants and stall owners, to even the plays and the restaurants, Liyue Harbour truly was different from Mondstadt.

-

"It's much more colourful than what my nation was like; although, I daresay you're not interested in this old woman's tales."

-

Even through her mask, at Hank's deadpan voice, Collei immediately scoffed. "No offense, but you look only twenty or so; and besides, I'm always curious about your nation."

-

Hank blinked, and then smiled. "Hm. You're too kind, Collei. Though, since you insist..."

-

She gestured to the street. "Everything was underground, with only the light we made helping us. We whispered, as to not gather attention of those wishing harm on us, and we commonly dressed in blues, blacks, whites and greys, and almost always bore our masks. It was... depressing. Stagnant, even."

-

"...But you wouldn't trade it for anything else, would you?"

-

"Of course; it's the only life I knew."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh dear."

-

"What do you mean, 'Oh dear'?!"

-

Phillip continued to look downwards from where he stood, humming as he did so. "It seems that someone has been here in recent years... odd, given that I never recall telling anyone about this place."

-

"Wait, you made this place?" Amber's instincts told her that, good intentions aside, Phillip is definitely someone she should watch out for. Eula was less... subtle, but at least she's being careful, right?

-

"Well, sort of; I just added a pillar or twelve here, a secret passage there. Although, given that there's something... else here, it brings about the question of who decided to break and enter this place."

-

"...What do you mean, 'else'?" Eula looked down as well, before recoiling in confusing. "What on Teyvat is that?!"

-

Curious, Amber peered down as well, and saw... well, she wasn't sure what it was; it appeared human-like, although with its gloopy appearance, claws and hideously stretched smile, the similarities fell through incredibly fast.

-

It also seemed to have noticed them. It looked up at them, tilting its head...

-

And then it roared, with Phillip quickly shouting, "Run!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Is something wrong?"

-

"No. And, if I do this..."

-

Hank was in a corner, just near the harbor, with Collei standing next to her, the latter watching the former tinker with something in their hands.

-

"Finished. Here," standing up, Hank put her hand out and presented Collei with two, identical bracelets; they were thin, but could encompasses her hand up to her elbow. "These are for you."

-

"...Thank you?" Collei wasn't used to gifts but, as she slipped them on, she'll admit that they're at least comfortable. "What are they for?"

-

"Given the abnormal output that the Archon Residue inside you gathers and releases, I have made those in order to control the flow more easy."

-

"...You know something?" Collei rubbed her hair, as she began to lean on a nearby wall--

-

--Only to yelp as she fell through, and scrambled up to face a dark tunnel, leading down.

-

"...Hold that thought." Hank advised.

#ryuusei's works #genshin collei #genshin impact #sagau #genshin cult au #sagau heirs au #phillip sagau #h.a.n.k. sagau #genshin amber #genshin eula #sorry for it's shortness I was running on fumes-- :(

[tears-of-boredom]

had a dream where me and my mom were walking with one of our cats and then we had to let them walk through this thing that would change them, like a science expirement. they turned into a slightly-bigger-than-an-average-cat cougar. then we were just walking with them to home. on the way we met this lady who was walking their dog, their dog looked exactly like our cat. we pretended like our cat was a dog to not complicate the situation. we ended up visiting the lady's house that she was building herself. we noticed that there might be something wrong with the foundation, because the frame of the house was leaning slightly. two of my family members(who were all there now) went and fixed it in like a second. the lady was really impressed. we noticed another problem in the frame, and three people this time fixed it. we said goodbye to the lady and left for home again. i left with our cat before the others because they straggled behind talking to the lady. i carried them down an underpass, dodging a few bikers. at this point me and siblings were in a car(with the cat), the eldest was driving(they actually do have a license). the roads were pretty slippery, so we went a slightly different route home than normal, just to be safe. we arrived, and started getting off the boat(car turned into a boat). someone was saying that gay people weren't allowed to dock at the harbour(referencing some news they'd heard), I took a picture of all of us getting off the boat and joked that we aren't allowed to dock either then(I knew that it only affected the boats that sail about internationally). one of us said that they were homo, and I looked around, saw Atria ham slices, and said "aren't we all a little homo". I meant it as a genuine statement, but i accidentally referenced some popular meme we all knew, so it came out a bit lighter than my initial statement(thankfully). notably my younger brother was looking a bit uneasy, he didnt know what to do about indirectly getting called gay. he probably wouldve said something casually homophobic otherwise, but there were like six of us others, who all agreed to my joke of "aren't we all a bit gay", so clearly his comments wouldnt land. we all took something of our stuff from the boat and walked over the dock to the shore. until. i realised we were missing our cat. i panicked really hard. i gave my stuff to my sister and ran back to the boat, my sister came as well. she handed me the keys. i was thinking "dont be racist, dont be racist" while picturing the face of Bruno from Black. White.. I fitted the key into the lock with shaky hands and turned it. he was racist, and the lock opened. i lifted the lid of the floor compartment were the cat was. they were sleeping peacefully. i was still panicked. i threw the lid out of the way, into the water, and tried to coerse our cat out of there. the lock and keys fell too, so I jumped in to get them. my uncle had ran over as well to help, they were in the water. i found the lock and keys and tried to lift the lid that was floating on the water, onto the dock, so it wouldnt be in the way. turns out my uncle was trying to use it to keep themselves afloat. i dropped it into the water with us again, but now it was in the way again. at some point our cat had fallen into the water as well, which I thought was a good thing, since now they can just swim to shore. no, they apparently didnt know how to swim and were just sinking to the bottom. my uncle dived in to save them.

thats when i woke up, my heart beating a mile a minute.

#dreams #nightmare

[outoftheirdifferences]

Lauren for the character writing meme!

Pick a character I’ve written and I will explain the top ~three to five ideas/concepts/etc I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to accurately depicting them.

Oh wow, I must confess did not expect to get one for her! I was prepared to write one for Angel or someone xD That said, I'm always happy to talk about my favourite OC, so thanks! :D

Well, first... and, I'd argue, most importantly to me: the fact that Lauren isn't just bitter rage-ball at the world all the time. I mean, granted, that actually was true of her when I first created the character; but I've developed her so much since then. Even still, though, it's all too easy for me to slip back into her being just rage and bitterness and forget all the nuances I've built up for her over the years, so I always need to keep this in mind.

Like... yes, she does harbour a whole lot of bitterness; but the thing is, it isn't readily apparent a lot of the time? She should have the freedom to look and act just like your average teenage girl a lot of the time - to have fun and laugh at dumb jokes and not just have every single aspect of who she is defined by her bitterness and nothing else. That has the added bonus, too, of when her bitter side does spill out... it's a shock to people around her, because she's actually seemed normal up to that point? It makes it much more impactful when it comes up unexpectedly, rather than being her constant mindset at all times.

(rest beneath the cut for length!)

Tying into that, there should be a balance in just how fighty and violent she can get. Again, originally, she would just lash out all over the place without regard for anything, whenever someone said something that touched on her specific area of vulnerability - that being, her parental issues. (This was, in truth, because she started out life as a minor bully in a story focused around an entirely different character, so it didn't matter that much - but she eventually just stole the spotlight entirely and became the main character herself!)

But the more I worked with her story ideas, the more I realised that it just didn't make sense... Lauren specifically doesn't see herself as mean, even in spite of her fighty tendencies. If she was beating up other kids left and right if they so much as breathed about having the caring parents that she didn't have, there was no way she could keep that view of herself... that, and she would probably have been expelled from her school five times over. Again, it's easy to fall back into writing her that way, because it was grounded in how I originally imagined her; but it's just not the truth of her anymore. She is temperamental, she does lash out... but she also has common sense and self-control, and unless she really feels like her issues are being deliberately poked at (or her friends threatened), the most she will do is seethe silently.

Third is that Lauren doesn't lie. It's not a matter of morals or principles for her; she just has never had reason to believe that it's worth the effort - in her mind, it just sets up worse problems down the road, no matter what the situation. If she doesn't want to talk about something, she will very determinedly not talk about it - she has being sullenly silent down to a fine art - and can be evasive like there's no tomorrow, but she won't outright lie.

So if she does lie, that's when you know that something is very, very seriously up.

Fourth: Lauren's closest friends mean more to her than ANYTHING. This is in large part because, even with not being angry all the time, she's still a very closed-off girl, and very, very guarded about letting people get close to her. After all, if she can't expect her parents to care about her, how can she imagine that anyone else will? So if someone does manage to get close, it's very little exaggeration to say that Lauren will defend them with her life. She very much has an 'I don't care what you do to me but don't you DARE hurt them' stance and becomes very protective of the rare person she gets close to.

Lastly, I guess, is just to remember that Lauren doesn't fear physical pain. She does have her fears - her greatest one is being rendered helpless and unable to fight back - but even with the changes mentioned above, at this point she has still been in (and lost) enough fights that they've toughened her up to the point where she honestly doesn't care if she takes a beating. She doesn't seek pain, of course, but she also doesn't run from it as long as she has opportunity to give as good as she gets.

#ooc #meme response #sxsamarantespacexsea #Thanks for sending this! :D #Always fun to get to talk about this girl ^^ #Lauren tag tbd

[changingplumbob]

Romero Household: Chapter 1, Part 1

Settling in to San Sequoia.

Also yes, I realise Marta's sleepwear is more revealing than before but I realised I gave her this cute birthmark and tattoo only for them to hardly be seen so a outfit restyle was in order. Plus it's just her and Keira in the house now.

Marta’s first language is Spanish so she is teaching Keira (and me) some common phrases Si: Yes Por favor: Please Bueno: Good, fine, okay Carino: Term of endearment for a loved one Cómo estás?: How are you No tan bien: Not really good… Ay dios mio: omg equivalent Gracias: Thank you Qué?: What? Buenas tardes: Good afternoon Abuelo/Abuela: Grandfather/Grandmother Padre: Father Lo siento: Sorry

Autumn has begun and we find ourselves in the cloudy harbour of San Sequoia where two lovers sleep in a small unit dreaming of their wedding. The passing ferry horn hardly wakes them now, they’ve begun to get used to the sound. Keira is often keen to get up and start the day, it just usually involves untangling herself from Marta.

Keira: Sweetheart, I’m going to get up

Marta: Si

Keira: That means you have to let go

Marta holds on tighter.

Marta: No

Keira chuckles and kisses the smaller woman on the forehead.

Keira: I need breakfast, can I go por favor

Marta: *sighs* bueno

The couple head downstairs where Marta makes a beeline for the kettle. Normally she'll be singing as she does it but today she is strangely quiet.

Keira: How are- umm… cómo estás?

Marta: Ay dios mio, no tan bien. My belly hurts

Keira: Are you worried about Day of the Dead tomorrow?

Marta: No. I’m looking forward to Dia de los Muertos. I think I’ve got a bug

Keira: Then you need to rest today

Marta: No. Carino I have cooking I need to do

Keira: Don’t care. If you’re sick, you need to rest. Lots of green tea and naps

Marta: *sighs* fine. The water is done, I’ll have tea

Keira: And then nap?

Marta: *pouts* Carino we only just woke up

Keira: I don’t want you getting more sick

Marta: Gracias. You are sweet but carino, the food is important

Keira: I’m trying to understand. I just… my family always taught me that when a person is in the forever save, they stay there. It’s hard to think that maybe they can come back at all

Marta: Si. I know, and I love you for trying to understand it all

Keira: Well our kids will have to understand it so I better get a headstart

Marta: What kids are these

Keira: You know, our future imaginary ones

Marta giggles but is happy Keira wants to grow their family.

Marta sits down to slowly sip her tea, looking like she may just throw up any minute. Keira tries to think of something they can talk about to distract her fiance from her bad tummy.

Keira: Test me

Marta: Que?

Keira: On the ofrenda. I want to see how much I remember

Marta: Bueno. Why did we make the ofrenda

Keira: To… welcome back the spirits of your ancestors? Like to invite them into our home and celebrate their life?

Marta: Si. We would have put pictures of your ancestors to, but you don’t have those?

Keira: No *sighs* would have been cool though

Marta: What is the top level traditionally for

Keira: I know this one! The top level is about the heavens, I love the word heavens, and is about the connection between the departed souls and the watcher

Marta: Si. That is why we have the plumbob, the symbol of the watcher, in white

Keira: Why is it white though? I thought religion taught that plumbobs were green, yellow or red

Marta: Si but it is the plumbob of our loved ones that have passed. They have completed what they were put in the save for so their plumbob is white. You know from science si? White holds all the colours

Keira: That confused me so much because mum taught us all about paint and in that black is all the colours. But yeah during my degree they said white light has every colour

Marta: The second level?

Keira: That’s where we put the photos because… I forgot. But I remember we put the pictures on so that the spirits know where to go, and that they can be remembered when we tell their stories

Marta: Si. It is the heart. We can also put things that belonged to them that were important. Why do we use candles and flowers?

Keira: The candles light the way for the sprits, and so do the marigolds but with smell

Marta: Si, there’s also just a lot of them in Mexico. And the bottom level

Keira: Where we put the food but can totally skip it if you’re unwell

Marta: Gracias carino but *rubs forehead* it is not like leaving cookies for Father Winter. The food is important. The spirits travel a long way, it is a journey. Making food and drink helps nourish them and is part of honouring them. That’s why they go at the bottom level, to tie into the…. physical world

Keira: I see. I don’t want you to overdo it but it’s clearly important. Just promise me you’ll rest for a bit before jumping into cooking

Marta: Grilling! It tastes better. *gags* ay dios mio, I do think I should have a nap first. I feel like throwing up

So while Marta sleeps to try and get through the burning belly symptoms, Keira goes for her normal run. It may be cloudy but she’s quickly fallen in love with the neighbourhood. They may have moved here for her job, and to hide a bit from Marta’s jerk of an ex, but Keira can see her and Marta raising their family here. Their unit neighbours seem nice enough and there’s plenty of space for kids to run around.

When Keira gets back home she jumps online to look up more about the conservation efforts in the area. Last week at work a colleague mentioned there might be upcoming law change and Keira wants to make sure she knows what she can about the current state of things. Following her nap Marta has a shower in the afternoon and heads out past the picture of her grandparents.

Marta: Buenas tardes. I’m going to make Chimi first, your favourite abuelo

At the grill Marta sets about preparing the burgers. She’s already made all the fillings and just needs to cook the patty right. Abuelo Manuel always had a particular way of doing it that he insisted made it extra juicy and was happy to supervise her and her padre Rafael to make sure they were cooked to perfection.

With the chimi finished Marta set about making the elote, her abuela Maria’s favourite. When Maria was growing up in Mexico she and her friends used to love buying some for the street vendors after school on Fridays. Maria always said it reminded her of the freedom of the weekend. When the corn is cooked and covered in the sauce, Marta begins on the last dish, Pollo a la Brasa, peruvian style chicken. While her mama Aymee grew up in Cuba, her parents were originally from Peru and on special occasions would take her out for the delicious dish. After they passed her mama would make the dish when Marta was growing up as a special treat to celebrate. Marta hoped her mama would enjoy it.

Marta feels another wave of nausea hit her and she wavers. She knows Keira is right and she should rest but she needs to make this food for her familia.

Margarita: You okay Marta?

Marta: Que? Si Margarita, estoy bien. Cómo estás?

Margarita: Huh? I'm afraid my parents never taught me Spanish

Marta: Lo siento. How are you?

Margarita: Enjoying a respite, both boys are asleep at the same time. What are you cooking?

Marta: Food for Dia de los Muertos tomorrow

Margarita: Oh is that why the spooky décor is up

Marta: Si, I checked with the property manager and he said it was fine

Marta: Hola Stefan

Margarita: What are you doing out here? What about the kids?

Stefan: The monitors are on, my phone will buzz if they start fussing in their cribs. I just felt like some air

Marta: I would have thought Saturdays were busy for work

Stefan: Not so much. Most of my clients schedule appointments during the week, a lot have families to spend the weekend with

Keira: Marta! Have you finished cooking? I could smell it through the window

Stefan: Can we have some

Keira: Sorry Stefan, it’s for family, to help their spirits make the journey to visit

Marta smiled at Keira remembering, and she was certainly too nauseous to eat any of it today. When Keira offered Mara let her help carry all the food up the stairs and into their home.

Previous (Chopra) ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #my sims #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0903 #KeiraFoster #MartaRomero

[brooklynislandgirl]

A Little Me, A Little You || Accepting @tangleweave​

ʻĀnela || Beta Ray Bill Falling Into Light || BRB verse

It isn't the first time that Skutt makes herself a conversant to Beth, though to this day she isn't sure whether the ship's AI is acting like a store-detective, keeping a careful eye on Beth to deter any sort of mishap, or if maybe Skutt is also sometimes lonely when he sleeps. It could be some complicated melange of both. It never really occurs to the mage that the ship might actually also harbour very similar feelings. Beth gingerly uncoils her limbs from where she'd drawn herself up and into the space she'd occupies. Not exactly a seat and not exactly comfortable but she had no intention of disturbing him in her quest to watch over him. Bare toes hit the deck soundlessly. But just as it might seem that she will mouse right past him, she hesitates. Ever so carefully using the same skill set as she might while assisting in surgery, Beth brushes the backs of her fingers along the ridge of his cheek and across the curve of his skull. As if she were brushing hair from his face that he doesn't have. The purity of affection could not be mistaken in the gesture or in the fondness that graces her eyes. She beckons Skutt with two waved fingers as if the AI were in a physical body that needed any such direction before she exits the bay that he claims as his room, and makes her way toward her own. Talking is easier when she doesn't have to mouth the words for the sake of not disturbing him. Once in her own room, Beth makes herself a cup of tea before she folds herself onto her makeshift bed, legs folded in a lotus position. "There are many factors or pieces regarding how one being might come to feel about another," she begins carefully, to provide Skutt what it seems like she is asking about. "When it comes to me, it almost seems backwards. Normally, a being sees something about another that they are drawn to, and then pursues the chance to get to know them better, in hopes of judging their potential as a mate. Now, I can't say I was not stricken when I first saw him, I absolutely was. But mostly because I've never seen someone like him before. Silly as it might sound, I half wondered in relief-delirium if he was an angel, or some sort of magnificent Umbrood Lord." Her lips quirk to the side. "Umbrood in our language means a disembodied entity that originates in, and usually dwell within, the Umbra, a spirit. Clearly realised he isn't." A sip, a dismissive hand wave. "Life for a mage is often a lot weirder dan mos' mortals, so as he introduced himself, and we talked, it didn't seem very odd. Maybe even comforting, I suppose. His stories are everything I've ever believed in and maybe validated all of my hopes. He's a little archaic in some ways and sometimes I don't always understand him or his motivations but over these months, he's opened my eyes to so many things I could only ever imagine, and he's done so in such a...a... an innocent and courteous way. Bill truly embodies all things honourable and chivalrous and I can't say I know what to make of it. "I would like to think we have grown in our friendship, our trust in each other. I know there is nothing I wouldn't do or give to ensure his health, to ensure his happiness, and nothing would make me betray him, not even a chance of going...home. I feel he and I are very much alike in spirit, in temperament, and he's become one of my nearest and dearest if not...only...friend, not excluding you, of course." She feels a little guilty saying that and hopes she didn't do harm to the AI's feelings. "I...I love him, you know. In all of the ways I can, that I'm capable of feeling. He is my companion, my guide, my protector. He makes me soft in all the places I've felt so guarded for so long. I could easily see myself defending him with my life, or taking one if I needed to and that doesn't really bring me any pleasure. Sometimes I know he worries that he isn't deserving of his purpose, or his place in the grand tapestry of the universe but I don't think there's anyone better. I've learned so much about worthiness, about acceptance and honour. And I know he's younger than I am all things considered, and I've seen how some people in the places we go look at him. That particular look apparently is not limited to humans. Sometimes, I catch myself looking at him like that, too. I...I don't know if we're even biologically capable of that kind of thing, and I won't lie and say it doesn't scare the daylights out of me but..." Beth giggles. "I don't know if any of this actually answers your question.

~*~

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable {In that he will do the most honourable thing possible} / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

#Mahalo!Matt <333 #Worthiest|Beta Ray Bill #Sea of Waking Stars|Beta Ray Bill and Beth #Beyond Thunder|Thor AU #Somewhere in Between #{{Beth says you should think VERY carefully about making THOSE jokes}}