Adam Driver (Behind the Scenes)Ā |Ā Annie Leibovitz | Vogue (2014)

izzy's playlists!

#extradirty
tumblr dot com

Discoholic šŖ©
šŖ¼
Claire Keane
I'd rather be in outer space šø

Product Placement

PR's Tumblrdome
wallacepolsom
dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)

ā
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
RMH
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
almost home

seen from Israel

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Chile

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from Thailand
@sakurasaccharine
Adam Driver (Behind the Scenes)Ā |Ā Annie Leibovitz | Vogue (2014)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Kylo RenĀ (Adam Driver) and Finn (John Boyega) inĀ Star Wars: The Force AwakensĀ behind the scenes
Would you possibly consider doing a sex pollen fic with Commander Mills and the āļø prompt 6? ššš thank you
āššØš®š« š©š®š¬š¬š² ššš¬ššš¬ š¬šØ š¬š°šššā¦ā
pairing: Commander Mills x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+. Sex-Pollen, so Dub-Con by default. Oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, cumming in pants, lalala Jasmineās a slutttt
mills masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist
Dread drips from your pores, manifesting in sweat. It should have been obvious not to touch the bright red petals of the flowers blooming from the bush in the forest. Red equals danger, after all- but it had been so pretty.Ā
Being childish, trying to bring a smile to Millsā stern face, youād pushed the flower into his ebony hair. Heād scowled at first, but kept it tucked behind his ear.Ā
The sweats had started not long after, heat blooming through your body and roasting you from the inside. Then the arousal. It crawled across your body, ripping you up internally. Fuck, youād never been so horny, and Mills looked so fucking goodā the perspiration settled in his clavicle called to you, tongue desperate for a taste.Ā
The aloof personality of the Commander had dropped away almost instantly, pushing you into the forest grass and undressing you with an animalistic force, seams of your cargo pants tearing.Ā
Tongue buried in your dripping cunt, Mills groaned loudly as he pushed his erection into the forest floor, grinding his hips for purchase. Each delighted hum from his chest vibrated against your cunt, and you came with a shriek of his name. Again.Ā
āOh my god- ohmygodohmyghohhhhh-ā you ramble, falling into a pathetic wail of bliss as you push your hips up into his face, clit bumping his nose. He plunges his fingers deeper inside of you, tracing your g-spot with deft fingers.Ā
āFuck,ā he pants heavily, looking up at you through his lashes with those eyes, dripping like honey. His mouth is soaked, glistening in the sunshine. āYour pussy tastes so sweetā¦ā
āUgh-Hah-Hah- Oh fuck,ā you squeal, feeling everything pull up tight. āIām gunna fucking cum again, oh my god, ImgonnafuckingcumaGAIN-ā
āCāmo-ā He cuts himself off, wrapping his lips around your cunt and swallowing you down, flicking his tongue over your clit viciously. When you cum, it rattles your bones. Rips through you like liquid heat that makes you sob loudly, body trembling with the force of your tears.Ā
āHah- Oh shit-ā Millsā shoulders stiffen beneath your palms, his hips rutting into the soil beneath him. Heās panting heavily, letting out pained groans and rambling to himself.Ā
āFuck, Babyās pussy is so wet, isnāt it? So fucking sweet and tasty. Could fucking drown in it- ohfuck,ā he spit out, his hand splayed over your abdomen. āJust another taste. Just one more tas-ā
You try to escape it, pulling your hips away from the overstimulation, but Mills swipes his tongue through your folds once more, body seizing up as he cums with a devastated groan, his nails digging into the flesh of your stomach.Ā
āOh- Mills-ā you sob out, eyes rolling back into your skull as an orgasm rocks you again.
Think he knew what he was doingš¶
me: opens my document story: starts screaming

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
āIn college I had a physics professor who wrote the date and time in red marker on a sheet of white paper and then lit the paper on fire and placed it on a metallic mesh basket on the lab table where it burned to ashes. He asked us whether or not the information on the paper was destroyed and not recoverable, and of course we were wrong, because physics tells us that information is never lost, not even in a black hole, and that what is seemingly destroyed is, in fact, retrievable. In that burning paper the markings of ink on the page are preserved in the way the flame flickers and the smoke curls. Wildly distorted to the point of chaos, the information is nonetheless not dead. Nothing, really, dies. Nothing dies. Nothing dies.ā
ā Nicholas Rombes,Ā The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing (via bobschofield)
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point youād hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And youāll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that theyāll be comforted to know your energyās still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; youāre just less orderly. Amen.
(Aaron Freeman, āPlanning Ahead Can Make A Difference In The Endā)
Ok, but imagine: The plot of "The VVitch" but it's the Barebones with Credence as Thomasin and Grindlegraves as Black Phillip (in goat animagus form)
Close
Summary: Credence finds an unexpected respite.
Words: 5,978
Warnings: Referenced/implied child abuse, canon-typical violence
Paris: the city of many faces.
The coexistence of a place like Pigalle a mere stoneās throw from Montmartre and its pristine Sacre Coeur made the duality almost comical. As darkness fell, the bars and cabarets, the clubs and opium dens and brothels all kindled to life. Those seeking a thrill knew where to find it, and scenes of revelry and debauchery carried on well into the night.
This is where Credence found himself on a cold February night. He tossed and turned for hours before accepting that sleep wouldnāt come that night. So he slipped away from the Circus Arcanus under cover of darkness and took to wandering the No-Maj streets. He paused every now and then to observe the late-night crowds, clustered at outdoor cafe tables smoking and imbibing, but never stopped for long.
No matter how far he walked, there was no escaping his troubled thoughts. After discovering his adoption certificate in New York, heād set out in search of his mother. The search had led him to Paris, but heād lived here for months now and the answers he sought still eluded him. Who was he? Where had he come from? Why had his parents surrendered him to another? Had they known, even then, that he was tainted? His gaze lingered a bit too long on a passing brunette before he tore his eyes away; he couldnāt help but wonder if she might be his mother.
For my fellow Credence Barebone admirers
I perused pages and pages of English-language non-pairing Credence fics on AO3 and enjoyed these three the most.
On the Wind It Howls -Ā Credence mourns what he has done and what he has lost.
Morning -Ā Credence enjoys the early morning the most.
Quicken the Cut -Ā Credence looks forward to his monthly haircut. (The imagery in this one is šš¤š¼)
So shines a good deed in a weary world
The city that never slept was at its most frenetic during the morning rush hour.
On the corner of 8th Avenue and 34th Street, wave after wave of commuters spilled from the bowels of Pennsylvania Station. They swarmed around a manās still form, ignoring his outstretched hand, writing him off as just another panhandler despite the fact that he offered something and asked for nothing.
Credence Barebone was used to being ignored, preferring it over the occasional heckler looking to argue or, worse, the bullies who would knock his pamphlets out of his hand. Hidden beneath the brim of his black boater hat, he kept his eyes down as men and women and children alike jostled past him.
As the hour wore on, the crowds began to thin, taking the body warmth that their collective mass had offered. Without a coat to fend off the frigid December air, Credence shivered. Something cold brushed his cheek and melted as it trailed to his jaw. He glanced up at the overcast sky and saw little snowflakes flurrying down. The gentle way they danced in the wind hypnotized him.
āIāll trade you.ā
He startled, nearly dropping his pamphlets. His eyes flew to a smiling woman who stood before him with two paper cups in hand. He stuttered like a fool, āwh-what?ā
āIāll trade you.ā Her brown eyes twinkled kindly at him. āA coffee for a leaflet.ā
He frowned at her, confused. āTheyāreā¦theyāre free.ā
Her smile faltered a little. āPlease, take it. Itās so cold out.ā She gazed at him earnestly as she offered the spare coffee cup.
Credence hesitated, wary of such kindness. He hadnāt known much of it in his life, least of all from strangers. But the ribbon of steam that curled from the cup, a promise of the warmth within, tempted him. Meanwhile, the snow fell faster and fatter. Sighing, he acquiesced to the uneven trade: a pamphlet for a coffee.
Her smile brightened as he sipped carefully. The beverage tasted good enough, but the highlight was its temperature. He curled his chilly fingers around the warm cup, a contented sigh spilling forth as a cloud of smoke. A faint, tentative smile graced his lips, āThank you.ā
She nodded, beaming at him, and made as if to go but then paused. Looking at him over her shoulder, she murmured, āMerry Christmas Eve.ā
He replied quietly to her retreating back. āMerry Christmas Eve.ā

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Untitled Goose Game -- No, Iām kidding, Untitled Snape Fic
The first day of November brought a bitter chill down upon the grounds of Hogwarts. The halls still buzzed with excited chatter about the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and the Harry Potter bombshell dropped at the Triwizard Champion selection the night before. With the rampant excitement, holding studentsā attention proved more difficult than usual.
The distracted atmosphere grew especially problematic down in the dungeons where, compounded by the trembling of chilly hands, each Potions class saw at least one disastrous spill. After the fourth blunder of the day, Professor Snape had been just about ready to abandon the dunderheads to their own devices, but the incident had occurred in the final period and heād just managed to pull through.
Severus watched with mild disdain as a final pair of stragglers shivered their way out of his classroom, finally ending the school day. In the time it took for the hallway to clear, he decided to go spend some time in the staff room. Once all was quiet, he made his way out.
The peace didnāt last long. At the top of the staircase he overheard a cluster of second years whispering about the goings on at the Halloween Feast. Severus couldnāt hold back a small sneer when he distinctly heard Harry Potterās name hissed with reverence. Indeed, Potterās talent for shoehorning himself into any tricky situation at Hogwarts, great or small, never ceased to astound. Whether the boy had an insatiable predilection for attention or for trouble was difficult to say, but he garnered both in spades.
A commotion in the quad steadily loudened the closer Severus drew to the staff room. Perplexed, he quickened his pace and soon emerged to a tight ring of students spectating an altercation at its epicenter. Some of them scattered the moment they caught sight of him; others fled as he brushed them out of the way one by one, hoping as he went that he wouldnāt find a Slytherin involved in the fight.
A vain hope in the end, for a Slytherin was exactly what he found: Calliope Clearwater grappling with another seventh year, Gryffindor Madrigal Quincy. Vexed, he withdrew his wand from his robesāwhich sent another group nearby runningāand cast a quick, silent Impediment Jinx. Both girls froze in place, Calliopeās hand within an inch of Madrigalās cheek. Two pairs of terrified eyes flickered in his direction as he approached.
He spoke slowly, quietly as he looked from one girl to the other, āHave you both lost your minds?ā The jinx wore off quickly enough and, though the question had obviously been rhetorical, both girls clamored for her own excuse to be heard over the other. Shaking his head, he seized the backs of their robes and escorted them away, through the entrance hall, down the spiral stairs, and into his office.
āSit,ā he commanded, relieved that they both seemed to have run out of breath at this point and so mutely did as they were told. He circled around to the other side of the desk and took a seat himself, steepling his fingers atop the table. It took a moment to gather his thoughts, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, the arrival of another Clearwater interrupted him.
Penelope barely had the chance to utter an apology before her younger sister, Lorelei, burst past her into the office, brushing off her older sisterās admonishments as she railed about injustice. The twins Olive and Ophelia, a pair of first-years and the youngest of the siblings, skidded to a stop in the doorway and goggled at the spectacle taking place.
And just like that, Professor Snape somehow found himself with the entire Clearwater clan in his office, a clan whose ubiquity through Hogwarts was matched only by the Weasleys. He looked to Penelope first, at a loss as to how she had been made a Ravenclaw Prefect if she was incapable of controlling even her own siblings. His gaze turned on Calliope next, who slouched as low as the seat she occupied would allow and shielded her eyes with her hand, though he could see that the rest of her face burned red with embarrassment. Finally, he fixed the whole of his intensity on Lorelei, āSilence.ā
She quieted but her lips quivered with the effort.
Madrigalās snort of derision earned her a withering glare from Snape that subdued her at once. He meant to send out the interlopers, but with so many Clearwaters present, addressing any one of them by surname would earn him a veritable chorus of āYes, sir?ā So he found a way around it. āNowā¦Unless your first name begins with M or C,ā he looked pointedly at the congregation by the door, āleave.ā
The twins were the first to depart, tittering as they clasped onto one another and ran off. Penelope seized Lorelei's elbow and gave it an insistent tug. The latter exchanged a baleful glance with Madrigal before allowing herself to be led out of the office.
After a long, tedious day, Severus was near the end of his rope. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the two transgressors. With her family gone, Calliope seemed to have found the strength to sit up again and now watched him apprehensively. Madrigal gazed off at the wall feigning nonchalance, but the restless jiggling of her knee betrayed her agitation. With precious little fortitude for a lengthy lecture, he admonished the girls for their unbecoming behavior, docked twenty points from both their houses, and dealt both of them a monthās worth of detention.
Madrigal opened her mouth as if to argue but, at his sharp glance, shut it once more.
āProfessor.ā
Snape turned to Calliope, surprised to hear her speak after sheād been silent for so long.
She raked a hand through her auburn hair, āMadrigal took something from me.ā She looked him directly in the eye, distressed, āI just want it back, please.ā
She wasnāt lying; he would know it otherwise. The direct eye contact even offered him a brief glimpse of the stolen item in his mind: a locket. His hand stretched out toward Madrigal palm up, āHand it over.ā He jerked his head in her direction when she protested, āMiss Quincy, if I have to repeat myself, it will cost you an extra week of detention.ā
Madrigal gaped at him, then at Calliope, and then at him again, but finally she procured the locket from within her robes and, with a huff, surrendered it to the professor.
His fingers closed around the trinket. āVery good, Miss Quincy. See me tomorrow afternoon for your first detention. In the interim, keep away from one another.ā
Scowling, Madrigal shot to her feet. āGladly,ā she spat as she flounced out of the room.
He and Calliope watched her go and then looked to one another again. When she reached out for the necklace he deposited it into her hand. She murmured āreparoā to mend the chain which had snapped when Madrigal ripped it off and then clasped the necklace around her neck, tucking the locket inside her shirt.
Severus watched all of this quietly. The locket meant a great deal to her though he hadnāt gleaned why. He raised his eyebrows when she glanced up at him suddenly.
Calliope exhaled sharply through her nose and brushed her hair away from her face again, a nervous habit, āIām really sorry, Professor. I know what I did was wrong.ā
A corner of his mouth twitched wryly, āThen why do it?ā
Her expression turned sheepish. āMy temper got away from me, I guess.ā
He did not respond, instead letting her mull over how ludicrous that statement had been. Her temper could get away from her only if she allowed it free reign. But he did feel the need to remind her of something. āThe next time your temper makes a break for it, remember that everything you doāgood or badāreflects on Slytherin.ā
She nodded profusely, āOf course. It wonāt happen again, I promise.ā
He had endured enough broken promises in his life to know better about putting stock in them. He instructed Calliope to come see him on Saturday after breakfast for her first detention then dismissed her and at long last found himself alone.
One of the Clearwaters apparently tattled to their matriarch, for Winnifred Clearwaterās outraged shrieks echoed throughout the Great Hall the following morning.
āBRAWLING IN THE CORRIDORS! WHAT KIND OF EXAMPLE IS THAT TO SET FOR YOUR COUSINS?ā
Severus had woken up with a splitting headache, and the censure that blared out of the howler from which Calliope currently cowered did nothing to better his situation. He had half a mind to clap his hands over his ears but instead opted to discreetly rub his aching temples.
āYOU ARE THE ELDEST, CALLIOPE, SO START ACTING LIKE IT!ā
With its message spent, the howler burst into flames and the deafening silence that followed rang in Severusās ears. He appraised Calliope for a moment, who looked as if she wanted to sink into the floor, and then shifted his gaze to Madrigal, who shook with quiet laughter at the Gryffindor table. Miffed by her smug attitude, he decided to speak with her Head of House later on and see if Professor McGonagall cared to impart a few choice words of her own about yesterdayās incident.
Saturday dawned so clear and blue that Severus almost pitied Calliope for having to spend the morning down in the dungeons. But the time had come for her first detention and, diligently, she came straight to his office after breakfast to receive her punishment.
He escorted her down the hall to a disused supply closet strewn with all manner of jars and vials and crates of ingredients. He had determined recently that it would be best for N.E.W.T. level Potions students to have exclusive access to their own supply store separate from that of O.W.L. level. He tasked Calliope with organizing the chaotic closet, leveling a grim look at her when she cast him a wide-eyed glance, and left her to it.
When he returned an hour later to assess her progress, he found her so absorbed in her work that he hesitated to interrupt. Granted, heād assigned her this task knowing that she was well-suited for it, and even so the headway sheād made still impressed him.
Calliope had filled one-third of the shelves already with alphabetized supplies and currently knelt on the floor muttering to herself as she sorted the next group for shelving. She peered down at a vial in her hands then set it aside and reached for a textbook nearby. She quested through the pages for a bit and then ran a finger over the page as she read aloud the properties of Haliwinkles.
With no one present to witness it, Severus couldnāt help but crack a small smile. Calliope was one of his more talented pupils; one had to be if they sought admission into his N.E.W.T. level classes, let alone success in them. She certainly had the discipline for it: studious, meticulous almost to a fault, so focused that there was no diverting her from a task at hand. She was extremely intelligent yet refrained from flaunting it as some of his students tended to do. One in particular came to mind and it was all he could do not to roll his eyes skyward.
A startled gasp brought him out of his thoughts.
Calliope gawked at him, hand over her heart, āOh Professor, I didnāt hear you come in. You gave me such a turn.ā With a breathless laugh, she broke into a simper.
He seemed to have that effect on people, startling the daylights out of them with his light footing and severe presence. He liked to think their fear fueled him.
She surmised sheād be finished in another hour, to which he eyed the significant amount of remaining crates dubiously. A double take over her shoulder later and she amended her estimate to two hours.
That sounded much more accurate. Severus clasped his hands behind his back and instructed her as he left, āSee me when youāve finished.ā
The N.E.W.T. Potions students made good, if not messy, use of their minted supply closet. It chafed a bit to see Calliopeās hard work undone, given the amount of time and effort she put into it, so Professor Snape made sure to have a word with them all about exercising better care in maintaining order on the shelves.
She was present in the second class to which he delivered this edict, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw her flush despite he named no names. The bell rang just then, and while everyone gathered their belongings and jostled their way toward the exit, Calliope got to her feet and approached his desk.
A commotion pulled both their attention toward the aisle where Madrigal, one of three Gryffindors in this period, had loosed a blood curdling scream directed at the floor. Mystified, Severus squinted down toward her feet and just barely saw something small scurrying around them. Shrieking, she made as if to trample it, to which Calliope gasped out āaccio!ā and rescued the creature from certain death.
It took only a few more seconds for Madrigalāwho was now upbraiding Calliope for her repugnant actāto burn through the remainder of Snapeās patience. āMiss Quincy!ā He rose to his feet, which dialed down the volume of her tirade significantly. The girlās theatrics had proven incorrigible throughout her years at Hogwarts, had if anything worsened the closer she came to graduating. But he would not tolerate her histrionic fits in his classroom, āIf you cannot control yourself, and you have thus far proven yourself incapable, then leave.ā
It was at times like these when he felt truly grateful for the fear he inspired in his students. Madrigal gaped at him for a moment, seeming as if she wanted to argue but thinking better of it, then turned on the spot and marched out of the room.
Calliope stood with her back turned to him, her head bowed to speak to the thing she had saved, āSweetheart.ā
Severus pulled a small grimace at the watery tremor in her voice. Would this sea of hormones never ebb? Sighing, he made his way around the desk to survey the damage. It took only a moment to recognize the small creature cupped in Calliopeās hands as one of the fugitive jerboas from Professor McGonagallās Transfiguration classroom. Some clumsy student had knocked open their cage and loosed them upon the castle several days before, and they had evaded capture ever since.Ā
Calliope sniffled, āShe hurt him.ā
Yes, upon closer inspection it became apparent that one of the rodentās thin legs crooked at an unnatural angle, broken. It trembled from the tips of its long ears to the tufted end of its skinny tail, its belly rising and falling with panicked breaths. Severus hazarded a glance at Calliope, who fared no better. She pursed her lips so hard that they paled, apparently in an effort to not shed the tears that welled in her eyes as she pondered the injured jerboa.
Though consolation wasnāt exactly in his wheelhouse, Severus felt he ought to say something. Steeling himself, he started, āMiss Clearwater,ā but stopped short, for she shot him an alarmed look and he himself heard a sternness in his tone which he had not intended. He tried again, pitching his voice a little lower to see if that might come across better, āThereās no need to get upset. Take the jerboa to Professor Hagrid; surely heāll know how to help.ā
She gazed at him bleary-eyed but gave a short nod. One of her hands closed over the rodent, like an oyster cradling a pearl in its shell, and he watched her back as she shuffled, sniffling, from the classroom.
Severus had spent the weeks since the arrival of Durmstrang dodging its Headmaster, who loomed like some corporeal ghost of his past and persisted to hound him on a matter he preferred not to discuss. The Mark on his left arm, ever concealed beneath a long sleeve, burned just as surely as Karkaroffās did. As both men knew full well what it meant, hashing out the details seemed moot.
When Severus brought this grim portent to Dumbledoreās attention, the Headmaster asked to be kept apprised of any further development but nothing more.
Yet as Severus sat alone in the quiet of his private chambers that night, the rest of the castle long since asleep, he undid his left cuff and carefully rolled up his sleeve. His dark eyes gazed down unwavering at the Dark Mark, the skull-and-serpent embossed as it had not been for many years on the inside of his forearm. He wondered where the Dark Lord lurked now, what plot might be brewing in his mind if it had not already been set in motion. He yanked his sleeve down over the Mark, rending that train of thought.
His mind refused to quiet even as he lay in bed and made a futile attempt to sleep. The circumstances heād been thrust into and the risks heād had to take ever since Harry Potter appeared at Hogwarts over three years ago would pale in comparison to what Severus would have to undertake should the very worst come to fruition. With a nascent sense of dread, he pondered exactly what he would be called upon to do.
Yet nothing could have prepared him for the task shunted on him the following morning, worse than any he could have imagined: teach the Slytherins to waltz for the upcoming Yule Ball. The fact that the other Heads of Houses had to partake in this same fruitless exercise boosted his mood, if only a little.
The din emanating from the disused classroom where his students waited that afternoon deflated him rather quickly. He paused in the empty hallway to gather himself, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. How angry would the Headmaster be if Severus refused to stoop to this level of degradation? For a moment he entertained the notion of flinging himself out the nearest window. But with a deep sigh, he let that small moment of fancy pass and swept into the classroom.
And there they were, every Slytherin from fourth to seventh year, chatting in small clusters throughout the room or else dancing around the enormous gramophone blaring in the far corner. Carelessly, he flicked his wand in its direction and the music fell silent with an unceremonious scratch. Every head in the room swiveled toward the doorway where Professor Snape stood, arms crossed. He forewent any preamble, āSplit up, all of you. Girls on the left side of the room, boys on the right.ā
He looked on, gratified that they all parted ways in silence and lined up against the walls opposite one another. In the second it took him to notice an empty spot in the girlsā line, someone crashed into him from behind. The collision sent him stumbling forward, though he regained his balance after a single misstep. Fuming, he whirled around to find Calliope framed in the doorway with both hands clasped over her mouth. A small wave of titters and whispers broke over his back at the frantic apology she babbled at him.
Snape immediately saw a way to punish her gaffe but, for the moment, merely gestured for her to fall in line with the rest of her peers. She did so with her head ducked in embarrassment while he turned to address the room at large. āNow, I expect you all know why youāre here.ā
Pansy Parkinson piped up, āTo learn to dance. For the Yule Ball.ā Several groans of misery issued from the male side of the room.
Snape did not join in despite sharing in their distaste. āYes, Miss Parkinson. So letās get straight to it then.ā
It was all Severus could do to suppress an exasperated sigh as he steeled himself to demonstrate this frivolous dance, a fresh round of embarrassment right on the heels of the first courtesy of the person to whom he now turned. āSince Miss Clearwater so kindly volunteeredā¦ā
Calliopeās eyes widened, but she seemed to resign herself as if sheād been expecting this turn of events. Avoiding her peersā amused stares, she came forth to meet him in the center of the room.
For the next few minutes, Professor Snape walked them all through the basic footwork of the waltz, maintaining a little more distance than altogether necessary from his dance partner. They mimicked him from their respective sides of the room, trying and failing not to jostle one another as they danced in place. When he could no longer avoid it, Severus moved closer to Calliope to demonstrate the arm placement. She surprised him when she raised her hands mechanically, placing the left on his shoulder and leaving the right hovering in midair. He recovered quickly enough to take the hand she extended and place the other on her waist without undue pause. His eyes scanned over Calliopeās head and found Pansy at the end of the girlsā line, āMiss Parkinson, if you would.ā
Pansy scurried toward the gramophone to switch out the records and soon a lively waltz filled the room. At the instruction to partner up, she bore down on Draco Malfoy.
Things went about as well as they could for the first minute. Severus judged it safe enough to glance away from the rabble and down at Calliope.
She gazed up at him sheepishly, āLooks like everyoneās paired up.ā
So they were. (Grudgingly, he proceeded to dance with her when he would have preferred to supervise from a distance.) Though her ease with the waltz during the demo had not escaped his notice, āYou donāt seem to really need to practice.ā
āI had to learn a couple years ago, forā.ā A hint of pink rose to her cheeks as she mumbled something under her breath.
Severus raised an eyebrow, āCome again?ā
She grimaced at him, red-faced, āFor my debut.ā
Any chance to respond disappeared when Vincent Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode whirled past on the right, the latter howling about her trampled toes. The sound of retching to the left proffered the sight of a sixth-year clutching his stomach. Nonplussed at how quickly chaos descended, Professor Snape looked to Calliope, āHelp your housemates.ā
She nodded and rushed off to quell Millicent, who had apparently had her toes mashed one too many times.
He conscripted Draco and Pansy as well, for the pair twirled and weaved around their classmates as if theyād been raised in a ballroom.
With their combined efforts, they not only averted disaster but managed to whip the assemblage into passable shape by the end of the hour. Not wishing to repeat this unpleasant experience, Professor Snape decided that passable would have to do and sent them all off to dinner in the Great Hall.
Severus found a good deal of amusement observing the mad scramble for dates in the weeks leading up to the Yule Ball. He overheard the most ludicrous gems as he moved about the school: the resentful observations of opposite sexes, the tortured mutterings of self-doubt, the veritable clunk of awkward exchanges. The furor died down as weeks dwindled to days, however, and with it went the uptick in comedy.
The holidays began but, given the impending Yule Ball, neither students nor staff cleared out as they normally would have. Seemingly overnight, lights and wreaths and garlands decked the castle walls and the scent of balsam and cinnamon wafted through the halls. Living and departed alike broke out into carols, spurred by holiday cheer.
On Christmas morning, Severus found several small presents on his desk: one from the Headmaster, one from Professor Burbage, and the rest from students who, in spite of his austerity, favored him. There was also the massive greeting card Slytherin House put together for him each year, filled edge to edge with scribblings and signatures. He read through them all as he sipped his coffee, warmed by the sentiment.
By lunchtime, the air hummed with excitement as only hours remained until the start of the Yule Ball. Even the Slytherin boys, so reluctant at the start, seemed more receptive to the whole affair having secured dates and acquired dress robes. Professor Snape had an uncomfortable but necessary talk with them all in the common room, out of earshot from the girls already sequestered in the bathrooms and dorm rooms preparing for the night ahead.
Darkness fell outside the castle walls and sconces ignited within. Little by little, students and staff trickled into the Great Hall, fully bedecked for the special evening.
Severus would have skipped the festivities altogether, but the Headmaster had been crystal clear that attendance was mandatory. Severus slipped in from the staff entrance just as the formal waltz ended. Drink in hand, he took up an unobtrusive vantage point to look on quietly at the crowd. He noted that members of the Hogwarts graduating class had apparently come to some kind of accord, for they all donned their respective house colors.
Snape caught Karkaroff squinting at him from a distance and, loath to endure yet another uncomfortable encounter, sidled his way toward Dumbledoreās side.
The Headmaster smiled serenely as he gazed at the gathering, āLook at them all, Severus.ā
What exactly was he supposed to see, Snape wondered, as he let his eyes roam over the hoard of teenagers. He paused briefly on each Slytherin he picked out of the crowd, sparing a brief thought. Pansy had succeeded in roping Draco as her date, surprising no one, but Vincent and Millicent made an unexpected pairing. Come to think of it, it seemed that all of the Slytherins had paired up exclusively with their own housemates. All except one.
The three eldest Clearwaters entered the Hall together. Penelope lead the way, arm-in-arm with Percy Weasley, followed by Calliope and Lorelei. It seemed the two had foregone dates in favor of attending together.The pair wasted no time, joining hands as they gamboled into the crowd.
ADAM DRIVER Annette (2021) dir. Leos Carax
He's officially and actively trying to kill us all š ā°
Really? With that much hair? And that much shoulder. Here, just take my entire reproductive system.
No, but really, he can take it all š No (human) babies for me š«
Sometimes, my brain will just tell me:
"Die"
Not for any particular reason.
Just because.
Gustav Klimt āGolden Phaseā detail from Judith IĀ (1901),Ā Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer IĀ (1907),Ā andĀ The KissĀ (1907-1908).Ā

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Me as a teenager wearing a hoodie in sweltering Miami:
Me wearing a tank top fifteen years later in sweltering New Jersey:
It was that time of year again: midi dress and blazer weather. Bonus points for a waist belt šÆ (at Upper Montclair, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-P5ktMlnla/?igshid=17ii4gksx1p7q