hermionewazlib

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#boop

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😍

They’ve got…they’ve got Ron? The thing Harry Potter will miss most.

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Cassie has pockets full of tarantulas...

I am WAY behind everyone else playing this game.

Today is the day I have no resident services because it’s being built - that far behind,

This is me, this morning, catching my 5th Coelacanth.

I messaged my friend to come to my island, because it’s apparently Coelacanth central, and he came to fish. He caught a Tuna and an Oarfish. I caught a sixth Coelacanth, an Oarfish and two Blue Marlin.

I still haven’t managed to catch wasps or a tarantula yet!

I am the blessed vegetarian fisher of the isle of Fuchal.

(yes, it is named after the promised land in Red Dwarf)

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Awww thank you!!

Hi! Do you know the name of a fic where Ron and Hermione have an argument bc she wears the wrong knickers and Ron accuses her of cheating? Harry has to use a code word like 'mozart' to diffuse the situation bc it stems from Ron's horcrux insecurities? thanks muchly

Evenin’.

As a matter of fact, I do know it and where to find it. It’s by our own lovely and extremely talented @hermionewazlib on LJ at RHr-Smutfest.com. I love how the banter is in the story, how delightful it is, and let’s just face it, the smut is decadent. Everyone is in character and Ron’s a character in it, for sure. 

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do (and you might also want to read Back to Front while you’re there.)

-Mod Diva

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Wait, do these work like LJ Communities? Because that sounds useful.

i cant believe they put in group chats and completely forgot the purpose of a group chat is that its private talking between a group

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Oh, your boy, your shiny Ron.

And Then, You’ll Know || Ron/Hermione || T/PG-13

It was never a conscious thing, this need for her. Not at first, anyway. Slowly, it grew, from a magnetic pull to an impossibly simple gravitational force. It wasn’t one thing, and it never would be. It was all of them, piled together into something that made simple unbelievably complicated, irrationally possessive, insomnia-inducing and sometimes painful. Did he crave the pain of uncertainty, as he craved the gorgeous smell of her frizzy curls and the mesmerising vision of the dying common room fire flaming in her heavy-lidded eyes?

She gazed down at her books, a look he only ever saw when she was looking at them, or when she was… He swallowed and imagined she could look at him that way, a nonsensical wish that briefly grazed reality in his memories, in sigh-sweet memories he tried not to overthink, a desperately losing battle. Maybe, maybe she looked at him like she looked at Sites of Historical Sorcery, but he rather hoped for Spellman’s Syllabary. He pressed his lips together to suppress bubbling laughter. She quirked an eyebrow in his general direction.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, a lopsided half-grin as she shook her head with a badly hidden smile of her own.

The sofa was warm, the common room empty, the night dark and almost pensive, though his racing thoughts only raced on her. Months and months, he’d been starving, away from her, making mistakes. Now, he was delightfully drugged, a hand’s width away from her left side, an oversized jumper sleeve and her cold hands. He knew they would be cold, but his brow furrowed momentarily at how. He’d never held her hand-

That wasn’t strictly true, he corrected, sniffing. He’d found plenty of excuses, over the years, to reach for her. There were endless justifications still left to use, surely? Only, just then, he could not think of a single one.

“Would you like something to read?” she asked in a whisper-warm voice, and he almost couldn’t answer her raw, unintended intimacy. He cleared his throat and shook his head, and she licked her lips, looking at him.

“Nah, m’fine.”

“What are you thinking?” That tiny waver was unmistakable, and what kind of dare was this? He was a ball of knotted thread with no coherent answer.

“Glad you don’t hate me, anymore,” he managed to tease, though it fell too far toward serious, surprising himself, hoarse again so quickly.

“Ron… If we’re going to talk about that…” she swallowed. “Well, we probably shouldn’t, is all.”

He held onto her voice around his name for too long.

“S’alright,” he slurred. “Keep reading.”

“Do you think Harry will be back soon?” The tiniest dagger, close to lightly puncturing his heart.

“Dunno.”

“I think we still have time,” she added, and his jaw unclenched, unaware it had been held so tight before. We still have time… to be alone.

He smiled at her, unwillful he thought, but they were so close. She was so fucking close to him he could feel her.

She shifted on the sofa, cheeks pink - from the fire - and he let his legs stretch out further before him, straight along the woven gold and burgundy rug. Her thigh touched his, and she left it there, glancing back down to the book heavily resting across her lap.

His roaming thoughts traveled through time as she attempted to read - years, then days, then moments, to her words… we probably shouldn’t. What did she not want him to say? What was she afraid of? Did she know? She could know, and a part of him would not be surprised. Another part would be bloody horrified.

He recalled nights at the start of the year where he’d sat just there with her, in exactly the same spot, uncomplicated - and yet so damn complicated - and he’d rest his head on the back of the sofa, sometimes daring to move it to her shoulder with the ridiculously transparent validation of wanting to see what she was reading. If all he could do, just then, was to remove the need for an excuse… was that all it would take?

And then, you’ll know, he fantasised, a terrifying pondering that could turn dream to nightmare.

He shifted down the sofa in a way she apparently found comical or even endearing if he dared to add a pinch of optimism, and he did it before he could think about it for a second longer, his shaggy ginger fringe partially obscuring his view as he tilted his head down, her woolly shoulder pressing to the side of his stubbly face.

“Tired?” she asked softly, through an obvious smile. The easy answer was yes, though it wasn’t the truth, an excuse to be right where he was. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes.

“No.”

“Good,” she whispered back, and for a long, long time, no pages turned, her toes brushed behind his leg, and the whole rest of the world was gone.

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I’ve been in this swimming pool...

Cherrybomb Series:

Rupert Grint as Malachy McKinney in every scene (133/??)

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❤️❤️❤️

harry accidentally drinks a love potion and falls in love with ron

no one notices because harry and ron are just Like That

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The angels have the phone box

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Oh. Oh my goodness.

The reason Harry never truly grasps the depth of Ron’s insecurity about being least loved until witnessing the destruction of the horcrux is because Ron has been Harry’s most loved since the day they met.

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This is joy and I approve violently.

I am finally writing chapter fourteen with my usual sophistication and class

Do other countries have ginger nuts or will this joke be completely lost in translation

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Goodness. Seeing it happen is wonderous!

Mushroom Folk illustration process timelapse: sketching + ink pen + coloured pencils

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Oh dear - I’m active, but have never heard of it...

Hi there! I was wondering if anyone has a copy of Cheekyroseb's "A Special Aphrodisiac"? This has been asked for already a long time ago and one of the suggestions was to request it from shocfix on livejournal but from what I can tell, they haven't been active for years so unfortunately I don't think that option will pan out. If anyone else has it and is willing to share it, it would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!

ANYONE?

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I failed my driving test four times and gave up... perfectly normal - who needs to drive in London?

How the fuck did adult Ron fail his driving exam when he fucking drove a car from London to Hogwarts when he was 12????

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Love when my cat flings himself into the air after a toy, but he has no style. Straight up ragdoll physics.

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3/5/2018

also:

and from the liverpool reddit: