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Today's Document
noise dept.
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON
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Janaina Medeiros
Kaledo Art
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
if i look back, i am lost
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
oozey mess
$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)
blake kathryn
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ellievsbear
shark vs the universe
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@kibirliisms
INTRODUCING: KISMET
⧽ ━━ hey, isn’t that KISMET SAYAR? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY NINE year old pureblood WITCH is a BEAUXBATONS alumnus who has gone on to be a LAWYER. i’ve heard they can be quite ASSERTIVE & COLLECTED, but i don’t know… they came off very HAUGHTY & SELF-IMPORTANT in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it?
dependent Harry Potter rp blog penned by Caro!!
playlist. pinterest. intro.
persiistents:
location: the ministry of magic participants: hélène levesque & kismet sayar ( @hoggleswart )
“kismet,” hélène greeted the younger woman with a wide smile as she leaned in to kiss each of her cheeks before taking a step back. “you look as gorgeous as ever,” she finished with a smile. “are you enjoying yourself?” this time she arched an eyebrow as she posed the question. “i’ll be honest, i’ve always found the talks to be a bit dry. but the food is quite food and i’ve always loved dancing.”
Kismet turns, smile already in place, to face the older woman. “Madame Levesque, always a pleasure.” And it is, in some ways. She’s far from the worst company that the Beauxbaton’s graduate has kept at functions like these, and at least she keeps the conversation moving. “Dancing isn’t quite for me.” Except, of course, when it is. Or when it was. That thought gets shoved hard and fast into a corner to be abandoned. “The talks aren’t either, really, but it’s nice to be out and about, isn’t it?”
hoggleswart:
𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓: the eighth annual ministry gala, department of magical artefacts curator presentation. 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: @kibirliisms ( but not limited to )
‘ Pssst. ’ Boney elbow unceremoniously nudges the person beside him, overexcitement ( & possibly too much merlot ) getting the better of Seamus as an idea springs to mind. Truly genius of him, he’ll say now, but no doubt his biggest regret tomorrow morning. A real gamechanger in turning this night around — Or perhaps that’s just the wine – induced confidence currently flowing through his bloodstream, temporarily soothing any irritation the snubbed ( attempted at least, however you can’t keep a Finnigan down for long! ) Gryffindor was previously feeling upon arrival. It’ll no doubt ease back sooner or later, flame simmering rather than put out completely, but for now, humour him. ‘ New drinking game activated. ’ Shae elaborates once certain he has their attention. Hooded eyes suggest this isn’t the first game he’s come up with tonight. ‘ Gotta drink every time the speaker says the word curate. ’ Chest puffs out and head nods firm, pride in his plan evident. ‘ Or every time they say artefact. Or! ’ Voice gradually gets louder with each new suggestion. ‘ We do both. I like both. ’
To say that Kismet had been enjoying the speaker’s monologuing would have been an outright lie. Her interest in the event is purely social, leaping at any opportunity to rub elbows with potential clients or people of high-standing. The better a name she made for herself and her firm, the better off she’d be in the long run. It’s a game of chess, the whole thing, and she’s at least two steps ahead. The man beside her, decidedly, is at least two steps behind. She doesn’t say as much, just lifts an eyebrow over her glass of chardonnay and takes a lofty sip. Are you talking to me, she seems to ask, even though it’s apparent he is. He’s distantly familiar to her in a way that many people around his age are, like they floated at the sides of her periphery somewhere before and she’s only just seeing them for anything substantial now. For a brief moment, she wonders where she’s seen him.
“You’ll be on your ass in under an hour.”
hoggleswart:
𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴 : ‘ somebody made a person out of wet mulch and leaves and like … dead slugs , and that’s you ’ 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 : kismet sayar ( @kibirliisms )
They had to hand it to her. — That was a good’un. So good that Marcus is left momentarily silent, blinking away the subtle ( was it really subtle? ) burn his ex just delivered. Tensions haven’t always run this high between them. Hard to believe, they know, but it’ s true. Once upon a time, they were an inseparable force. All wide smiles and hushed whispers, leaning into each other’s company rather than purposely avoiding it. Oh, how times change. Still. A flash of nostalgia isn’t enough to convince Marcus to simply let this go. They just aren’t that mature, their need to get the last word winning over any desire to mend possible bridges. ‘ You say the sweetest things. ’ Low drawl, cocky smirk : that’s one thing that never changes, becoming almost a Flint trademark as they lean in a little closer. ‘ Careful, Kismet. You keep showering me with attention like this and I’m going to start thinking you’ve missed me. ’
It’s not that their having a rapid comeback is surprising to Kismet, Flint’s kept her on her toes for as long as they’ve been at war, though she’d be hard-pressed to admit it out loud. Any sort of admission of the fact that he might just be a fair match for her goes perpetually unspoken. They would always have become this, she thinks, even when they were at their best. Even on the nights that they snuck out into the hushed and secretive dark just to have a moment or two alone together. Even on the sunny days when their hands clasped round each other and they, together, held a crowd’s rapt attention simply by virtue of being themselves. They were forever destined to either stand tall together or on opposite sides of the field, and the line had been drawn before they ever fell apart. (Fell is a deceitful word on her part. Nothing about their end was undetermined, all of it pre-constructed at the exact moment she’d realized that it would have to end one way or another, as everything always did, and it would spare her infinite pain to do son her own terms. ) Or so she thinks, at least. Kismet wants to hex the stupid smirk off their face. “Missed you?” The word comes out as a sneer, eyes rolling. “That’s cute, Flint. Did I break your heart that badly?”
❛ it’s nothing , it’s a tiny little inconvenience . ❜ -- @persiistents
“Respectfully, Madame Levesque,” and Kismet truly does try her best to look respectful, attentive, the picture of elegance and understanding. This is what she’s trained for, after all, what all those years of law and etiquette have added up to. “I strongly suspect that, if left unattended for long, it may become a significant grievance.” Dark eyes travel to the documents sitting before her, laid out carefully with colorful tabs set marking significant lines of legalese. Neatly-manicured hands fold together atop the table, her expression open and a rehearsed kind of neutral. “It’s my job to make sure that this goes as smoothly for you as possible, and that’s what I intend to do.”
angelinaajohnson:
location: belby estate (casino night) status: open!
Professional Quidditch meant being on show even at events- especially prolific ones for charity and where most wizarding folk would be present. And Angelina would’ve craved a night where she didn’t have to keep herself in check and not be at risk on a front page spread or caught doing something not particularly good for the image of her team. Not that she was one of those sorts of people, but keeping up an image was hard at the best of times. And the vodka martinis they were serving here were mighty tasty and she was gently sipping on her third, savouring it as her last for the night to stop any potential embarrassment of being half cut. Which was a shame, because the olives were extra briny as she popped another into her mouth and looked down at those on the roulette table with a curious look. Gambling never had been her forte, she just about got her head around muggle scratch cards- and maybe she dropped a couple of quid when it came to muggle races like Cheltenham, but casinos were strange to her. Even her brothers had given up trying to teach her poker. “So…you’re literally putting money chips on a random colour number and hoping for the best?” she asked the person in the chair nearest to her, raising a brow as she chewed on the olive contemplatively. “It’s purely chance, no actual logic or strategy behind it?”
It’s a two-pronged attack, Kismet’s appearance tonight. One part showing her face in public circles purely for her own selfish benefit and arrogance, one part making an appearance for the sake of her firm. They had insisted she go, citing her age, her charisma, her status as contributing factors. And really, who was she to deny herself the chance to get dressed up and throw around a bit of money? Furthermore, who was she to deny the public the chance to see her doing the same? So she did it: leaving Zahir with his nanny for a few hours and taking a new dress out for a spin. All of that said, of course, she has little to no idea how half of the games here work and doesn’t care terribly much if she’s losing some coin over it. The whole event is about optics more than anything, and she would be far from shocked if the games are rigged in favor of the house. At the voice to her left, her head turns, expression pretty and pliant, smile easy-going. “That does seem to be it, yes.” A pause as her eyes drift back to the game before them. “I don’t quite follow it, myself, if I’m being totally honest. But it seems the rest of the table is enjoying themselves.”
Prodigal Son 1.09 pied-à-terre
hoggleswart:
𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃: ‘ listen to yourself. it's fucking exhausting. ’
Of all the places to be inconveniently reunited with an ex, the Battle of Hogwarts war memorial is perhaps the worst possible surroundings they could’ve found themselves in . — Especially when said surroundings also serve as a bittersweet reminder of the very same relationship. Before these halls saw all that death and destruction, they also saw the beginning of young puppy love : fingers intertwined together as they stumbled free from the Yule Ball, searching for somewhere quieter to giggle sweet nothings. It didn’t last long, of course. What teenage dream ever did? Cracks in the foundation quickly turned sweet nothings into words of anger and now, here they were. Mutual fondness has become something a little more akin to suffocating resentment, the honeymoon period long over, leaving behind two casualties in it’s wake. Eyes, slightly glazed from whatever potion they brewed earlier to get them through today, roll in response to the interruption and though Marcus turns to greet Kismet, there’s no warmth in the smile that follows. ‘ Satan! How lovely of you to grace us with your presence. Is the weather in hell not good this time of year? ’
𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: hogwarts, the memorial 𝐅𝐓.: @kibirliisms
The simple truth of the matter is that they were never nice people. The perhaps simpler truth of it is that they were never going to be. For a thousand different reasons, in a million shades of fucked-up, both of the wix standing before each other--and the entire fucking crowd around them--were fated to a life of absolute assholery. Which really, when considered with an unbiased eye, meant one of two things: either they were meant to love each other and be merrily engaged in assholery together for the rest of their lives, or they were doomed to perpetually circle each other like sharks around shared prey, taking snips out of each other’s tails for as long as they both shall live. For a solid ten-plus years, they had avoided the inevitable. Now, it has finally found them both again. And for once, they’re aligned: violence is the only option. Kismet’s smile is a thing both catty and cold, a signature and incredibly personal sort of fuck you when compared to her incredibly fake but beautiful and warm one. Worse still, when compared to the fact that Marcus may even have been privy to a few real ones in the past. Not anymore. The Beauxbatons graduate is acutely aware of two things in the moment before he opens his mouth--one, that her son is not three yards behind her, being watched by a loyal and trusted nanny. Two, that means she doesn’t have to play nice even for a second, so long as he stays out of earshot. “Cute. You saving that one for me or did you just not get the chance to use it on the pitch because you’re benched again?”
i'm the girl you'd die for // Kismet Sayar. 29. Lawyer.
accepting:
heights, honesty hour, & euphoria dialogue prompts!
Eda Yıldız - Episode 48 2/11
#THAT’S RIGHT
Sen Çal Kapımı rewatch 🠪 1.03
“Part of the reason Nate loved Maddy as much as he did is because she was loyal. But it’s also what scared the living shit out of him.”
sneakscar:
-
“pretty BOLD thing to say to someone off the cuff,” marietta puts down the trinket she had been holding to the light to get a better look at, turning to look at the other with eyes that are immediately cold and sharp, brows that slant downward above them in a look of disdain and distrust. nothing to make your day better than being accused of THEFT! marietta looks the woman up and down briefly before turning back to what she was doing, picking up the necklace and holding it to the light to look at it better. “i’m sure you’ve got better things to do than make wild accusations.”
--
“I didn’t say you were stealing,” Kismet says rather pointedly, staying in place for a fraction of a moment before she joins the other woman to look at the assortment of trinkets. Her eyes pan over jewelry and accent pieces, curiosity far from piqued by any of them, but taking the time to feel out the moment. For the merest fraction of a second, she’s grateful that Zahir is home with the nanny. (He’d simply want to grab at everything and she’d be forced to end her afternoon out early or scold him in public, neither of which she is wont to do.) But the thought dissipates as soon as it appears and she kicks herself for having it in the first place. “I can assure you I do, though it was hardly an accusation. Consider it more... a warning.”
delacoeured:
she’s been staring at the shop window for an unreasonably long time . she gazes at the times with such vigor , as if the mere looking at them will somehow apparate them outside and into her arms . if she doesn’t go in , she reasons , she won’t be tempted to put down the galleons for an impracticality . so she’ll just look wistfully . her ears prick at the comment , and she wrinkles her nose . it’s just snide enough to bother her , but also be exactly the kind of comment she’d make in the other’s position . perhaps that’s why it bothers her so .
❛❛ unless window shopping has suddenly become a crime , there’s not a lot of stealing that can be done outside of the shop . i suppose i could always be … ‘casing the joint ‘. ❜❜
It’s not as if she doesn’t know who she’s speaking to. Perhaps the statement is that much more pointed because she does. Because when provided the opportunity to make Beauxbaton’s golden girl feel even the slightest bit insecure--who in their right mind wouldn’t take it? It’s cruel of her, of course, and she knows that. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she is certain that she is making a choice that few in her position would, simply because she can. Because it’s right there. Because, maybe at her core, she’s just a bitch. But frankly, she doesn’t think on it too much. Instead, she offers a raised brow and the faintest hint of a smirk. “To that, I’ll simply say that you’re either quite naïve or quite good at playing innocent. Both make for a good defense.”
The Batman dir. Matt Reeves | 2022
just for your information, i always get what i want
