No title available
RMH
Three Goblin Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
★
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Stranger Things
trying on a metaphor
occasionally subtle
ellievsbear
titsay
$LAYYYTER
Peter Solarz
Sade Olutola
if i look back, i am lost
No title available
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Not today Justin
Keni
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Yemen
seen from Singapore
seen from Tanzania
seen from France
seen from Netherlands
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from T1
seen from Ukraine
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
@kruegrs-blog
( - - ♕ ) ❝ Are you done staring, or would you like me to hang around for a moment so you can get a better look? ❞
“You really should get that looked at by the Head Nurse, you know. The infections are quite nasty when it comes to the face; you could end up horribly disfigured if left unattended. Would you like for me to escort you to the Hospital Wing? See--I'm a Prefect, but the badge probably gave it away, honestly. And--y-es.”
Careful hands tied the ribbon up into long, dark locks as Brigette paused outside of the Great Hall before breakfast. Day four at Hogwarts and yet she had still not adjusted to the oddness of her 'peers', if she could even be bothered to call them that. A quick glance ensured that everything was satisfactory before she strode inside, not shrinking under the gaze of others as she finally found herself a place at a table, serving herself food. “Are you going to stare at that jam or could you be bothered to pass it to me?” she snapped at the person next to her.
There was a methodical, almost reverential, routine in which Freya served herself her mandatory cup of tea--five sugar cubes atop the teabag; steep seven minutes; stir clockwise twice, counterclockwise thrice--and it was something she followed religiously when she bothered to attend breakfast. Color the Ravenclaw confused as she's ripped out of her daze--she'd been staring at the jam while stirring her drink--with a jarring clink of metal on china and a biting voice; there's a new variable sitting next to her, and she was not a fan of the rude awakening she was given. "I suppose I could have been bothered to pass it to you if you had the decency to use your manners, but, as it is, you don't. No--I think I'd much rather stare at it, if it's all the same to you."
—— to make it clear, Molly had not been spying, nor had she intended to be on the other side of the suit of armor Freya had chosen to whisper to; it was simply one of those odd coincidences that the dark-haired girl had stopped questioning — clearly those in charge had wanted her to run into the other Ravenclaw, and she had never been one to question fate. Slowly peering around the suit of armor, Molly cleared her throat softly, a small smile placed casually on her features, ❝ I can help you get in if you’d like, Freya, if you still want to nap before dinner, that is. ❞
Startled out of her stupor, Freya choked on a slow inhale--slices of an apologetic simper could be seen peeking out from behind the cover of her small hand--and allowed herself a moment to recompose. She would not question where the girl had come from, seemingly materializing from a chink in the suit of armor, for it was none of her business nor concern. Instead, she offered her fellow Housemate a perfunctory smile; the one she'd practiced and perfected in her voluntary seclusion. "Could you--that is to say: you wouldn't mind, would you?" she stumbled over her words--the phrasing oddly defunct as the syllables came tumbling out--before gesturing to the brass doorknob with lackluster flourish. How embarrassing.
Taking her lower lip between her teeth, Esmeralda made her way throughout the halls in hopes of finding Divination; a class in which she had recently been placed into. Why so late? She wasn’t entirely sure. “Newcomer, eh?” someone questioned then had been greeted by the smallest of nods “Good luck!” they chuckled. Whatever it had been that they were implying, her stomach started to turn and her nerves kicked up by ten notches. As the door came into view, it felt as though her chest was going to beat right out of her chest. It couldn’t be that bad. Taking a deep breath, she made it to the doorway before her gaze fixated on her professor which made everything very clear to her. ‘Nope!’ she thought to herself quickly backing out of the doorway attempting to get far away.
A frazzled and rumpled Freya scurried through the nearly empty halls, following the trickling of her fellow late students to their designated classes, her book bag flapping along--precariously pinned to her person by a single strap--with each echoing footfall. She allowed herself to analyze her mistake as she waited for the rumbling staircase to connect with the next landing, her thumbnail flicking against the pad of her forefinger in quick pastel concision. It was an honest user error on her part, being late like this; she was quite punctual on any other given day. That new alarm clock her uncle had sent her in the post--all brass whistles and new springs--was, as it turned out to be, on a twelve-hour cycle instead of the twenty-four she was used to. How was she to know that her nap would run longer than planned when she'd not been provided the instructions? Turning a particularly sharp corner at a steadily increasing jog, Freya ended up slamming into a mobile yet solid surface she did not anticipate nor have the time to avoid. "--O-oof!" The Ravenclaw, nonplussed, bounced off of the unidentified body; they had been making a hasty exit from her intended location--Divination. A smile illuminated her face rather belatedly in understanding. "Hi--excuse me--sorry about that."
I’m sure they figured it out early on that I would never run, that they could shoot but that’s no fun.
A dejected pout worked its way onto Freya’s pert lips as she stared at the closed entrance with skepticism. She allowed her head to slump to the side, resting against the cool, craggy stone wall as she mulled over her options. This momentous occasion marked the second and a quarter time since her second year that she wasn’t allowed passage into her own house’s commons; the riddles,unfortunately, had become increasingly difficult with the onslaught of hosted students. The petite girl knew—logically knew—that it was beneficial on Hogwart’s behalf; the biting, nearly acidic, annoyance she felt was aimed more-so at herself than anything else. As a Ravenclaw, Freya felt it above her to be stuck on such a mundane riddle. Admittedly, she’d been having an off day thus far, so full of exhaustion was she that it’d been near catastrophic for her to leave the comforts of her bed earlier in the day—- “I just wanted to take a nap before dinner,” she whispered to an empty suit of armor, and quite pitifully at that.
Well, it was worth a try.
The effort was refreshing; I do commend you on that, yes.
Oh. That’s fucking rich coming from you, Freya. I wouldn’t be the mature one when you’re over here attacking me without giving me a minute to breath. I’ll tell you why you "entertained the thought of us": you saw something you liked and you took it. Then you… You started acting different. Really fucking out of sorts and not at all like who you used to be. Next thing I know, I’m all the worst names under the sun and you’re just - you were gone. But of course I’m the vile one. It’s always my fault, isn’t it? You’re just a bloody angel over there with your forked tounge, aren’t you?
---
Fletcher had been someone who had always been particularly good with people. For them, he came as the comic relief and it was almost his duty to put a smile on the face’s of those whose paths he had crossed. Though the past week had been somewhat off for him. It had been as if a dark cloud was looming over his head for some unknown reason — and he wasn’t quite sure how to fix it. It was the feeling of someone taking a seat next to him that caused him to jump. Right, he was at a quidditch game, how could he have forgot? Fans all around him cheered as Gryffindor managed to score again. “S-Sorry,” he mumbled beneath his breath sliding over so they had a little more room “I was a little out of it,” he admitted.
"Oh--n-o you're fine; no harm, no foul," Freya effused with a polite smile, holding her thin hands up in a means-no-harm gesture. "I should have spoken up, honestly; I thought you'd heard me the first time I said excuse me--but we saw how well that went." She allowed a mildly uncomfortable silence--as uncomfortable as that metaphorical silence could be given their boisterous surroundings; students cheering, jeering, and outright screaming; the sound of the whistle blowing on a foul; the announcing student narrating even the most minute of details--to pass before inadvertently cringing into his bicep as one of Gryffindor's beaters sent a bludger soaring--it moved so quickly it was whistling--into the opposing team's seeker. Upon distinguishing which of the beaters it had been, she began to berate him beneath her breath. Of course it would have been him. "Well fuck, McLaggen. Give him a fractured skull to go with that concussion, why don't you."
"the dark knight" starter prompts
"Some men just want to watch the world burn."
"Depending on the time, he could be in one spot, or several."
"What do you believe in?"
"Criminals in this town used to believe in things. Honor! Respect!"
"Don’t talk like you’re one of them! You’re not. Even if you’d like to be."
"Let’s put a smile on that face!"
"Why so serious?"
"You wanna know how I got these scars?"
"I guess today is the day you get to say ‘I told you so’."
"One night, he goes off crazier than usual."
"And I thought my jokes were bad!”
"Does it depress you? To think of how alone you really are?"
"You wanted me. Here I am."
"Look at me!"
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have my boy here pull your head off.”
"How about a magic trick?"
"You’re crazy."
"If you’re good at something, never do it for free."
"You’re alone!"
"What were you trying to prove?"
“If it’s so simple, why haven’t you done it already?”
“You think you can steal from us and just walk away?”
“Did your balls drop off?”
“Oh, and by the way, the suit? It wasn’t cheap. You ought to know, you bought it!”
"Here’s my card."
“Alright, so, listen, why don’t you give me a call when you wanna start taking things a little more seriously.”
“We’re not intimidated by thugs!”
"You know, you remind me of my father. I hated my father."
“Well hello, beautiful!”
“A little fight in you. I like that.”
"Your plan is to blackmail this person? …Good luck."
“The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules.”
"Tonight you’re gonna break your one rule."
"Where are they?!"
"In their last minutes, people show you who they really are."
"In a way, I knew your friends better than you ever did. Would you like to know which of them were cowards?"
“I told you, I’m a man of my word.”
"People will die. Starting tonight.”
"You let five people die."
“Tell your men they work for me now.”
"It’s not about money, it’s about sending a message."
"Everything burns!"
“Ah, you made it. I’m so thrilled.”
“See, madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push!”
“You just couldn’t let me go, could you?”
“You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness… and I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun.”
“I think you and I are destined to do this forever.”
"You are truly incorruptible, aren’t you?"
“This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.”
“You can’t rely on anyone these days. You gotta do everything yourself.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“People will lose hope.”
“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”
Clytemnestra, Hades (( ps ily ))
Clytemnestra: my character kills yours.
Her breaths were coming in shallow, sloshing intervals. Inhale —- exhale —- inhale —- exhale; rinse; repeat. She was drowning in her own blood, choking on every third inhale and sputtering on every fourth exhale; the taste of copper never left her mouth as she tried to form the words—as she tried to call for help. The crimson that had earlier been mottling her neck now ran in thick rivulets from her jugulars—a clean, heavy-handed slice following the curve of her slender neck from ear to ear; a work of art; more than superficial with the singular stroke of his tactical knife—and pooled around her shoulders like spilled paint. ”Beautiful.” It was all he’d ever said, as if the very word itself would come alive and explain his actions. Freya’s vison had long gone dark—no longer were there brilliantly painful star-bursts before her fluttering eyelids—and her long, dark hair—it had come loose from the beautiful braid she’d conducted in their struggle—was matted with her crusting blood. The viscous liquid stained no further than the Peter Pan collar of her sleeveless shirt—sheer enough for the summer heat; a crisp peach because it was only spring in New Orleans—and there was a satisfaction in the fact that he’d be taking it as a memento of his latest kill; a new basis—a new color—to fuel his obsession.
Hades: your character is visited by my character's ghost.
A final bout of nervous laughter bubbled out from between her lips in an odd mixture of hiccup and giggle, an airy punctuation to her earlier hysterics. He simply sighed—long-suffering and not at all amused by her theatrics—as he hovered there, picking at his neatly preened fingernails in what was purely a show of patience. “Seriously, Frey? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a ghost before. We went to Hogwarts, for Merlin’s sake—there were ghosts everywhere!”His agitation acted as a catalyst, setting the young lady into motion. Slender fingers, their pastel lacquer uncharacteristically chipped, flew through translucent, ectoplasmic vapor with lightning quick speed. He let out a dynamic, carrying laugh at the affronted look adorning her face at the lack of purchase that she was unused to. The steam fueling her burst of anger cooled in light of subtle reflection. In its wake left a bereft feeling of raw anguish—was that loneliness she also detected?—and utter turmoil that she could not fight back the tears glazing her vision."That’s different," she whispered, voice watery and lacking any resemblance to its normal dreamy quality, as her fingers picked apart what polish was left on her nails. "I didn’t get to know them—I didn’t come to care about them—until after they were dead, and had been for years; it’s not the same—-not by a long shot.”
I’d say those eight months together was an ego boost, but of course you’re going to argue that it was a charity case or some other bullshit excuse you like to give, Kruger.
Brilliant. How mature of you---I don't need to waste my time here anymore than I already have. I honestly cannot fathom why I ever entertained the thought of--of us. You're a vile, vile boy, McLaggen; I hope you've finally come to terms with that.
Nope, just a lucky guess.
But if I were you I’d be careful yelling fuck me in a corridor filled with horny teenage boys who would probably kill a man if it meant they got to see a boob.
I suppose the cat is out of the bag now--figuratively speaking, that is. And I do see the merit in that last statement; hormones are a force to be reckoned with indeed, but---I like my chances. I'm not exactly 'Hogwart's number one bachelorette', I'll have you know; I would like to think that either of my boobs are safe for now.
Killing off my entire Quidditch team and yourself just because you’re on the pitch is realistic? I think you might want to rethink your definition of realistic, sweets. There’s no need to be worried. Rosie will take good care of you, Rosie always takes good care of you. If anyone laughs at you I’ll sock ‘em. No warning, just one punch straight in the eye. They’ll never do it again… But if you insist. You’ll stay off the broom this time, but you will get on one eventually. We’ll do it off the pitch, somewhere on castle grounds. It’ll be so much fun and you’ll be mad that I never forced you on a broom to begin with.
Yes, actually. Have you heard of the the law of contradiction--the unity of opposites, essentially? Er-- think yin and yang, their relationship, and that is where my logic stems; the balance would be thrown off. You know, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction--a contradictory reply. Of course you'll take care of me, Rose; I'm not implying that you won't. You're very good to me, you know--much more than I deserve--and I can never thank you enough for that, truly. It's the brooms I don't trust; flying is unnatural. Oh no--no, never that! I can't condone physical violence as a Prefect, you know that, darling. Ah. Wonderful--I had a feeling you'd see it from my perspective. Here: I promise to get on a broom by the time we complete our lessons next year.
Deep and trying desperately to be mysterious. Speaks in riddles, never gives anything away, annoyingly.
That seems a little... off, in a way. Are you sure that you're assessing the situation clearly or are you allowing your own opinions to muddle the data? Besides, you wouldn't have an issue with the way I speak if you'd simply open your mind up a little more. You're a relatively clever girl, you know; I'm a fan of your prose as well. Shame that it's only on paper, it seems.
I will pretend I didn’t see that… for a fee.
If that fee is free then certainly! Otherwise I'll just maintain my story, thanks.
