venomous

rita skeeter. slytherin. fifth year ( aspiring journalist. blonde bitch. of pureblood. ambition flows through her veins, dark, green and sickening. ) she will stab you in the back, softly, with a sweet smile, and you won't even notice

[princessgreensass-blog]

“Wow, its nice to see idiots dress up as even bigger idiots for a stupid party. Happy Halloween, you look hideous.”

[ohjournclist]

“It seems like we are matching, then,” Rita spoke, curling up her lips. “Because you do, too. More than me, even --- but that’s to be expected, isn’t it?”

[runwayxsocialites]

[corydiawrites-blog]

SEND ME ONE FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION.

[ohjournclist]

“What are you saying?”

“You left me.”

“You broke my heart!”

“I don’t love you.”

“You’re beautiful when you smile.”

“Don’t pout”

“Stop crying.”

“You did this.”

“I’m just a fuck up.”

“Get out!”

“I think I accidentally walked into a gay bar.”

“Don’t call me.”

“I won’t call you.”

“Call me.”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“I’m not breaking up with you.”

“You’re breaking up with me.”

“That’s so cliche.”

“I think I’m sick.”

“I’m a little drunk.”

“Stop making this so hard.”

“Are you following me?”

“There’s no such thing as a sexy bathroom.”

“Stop being a wimp.”

“I’m not ticklish.”

“Stop touching me.”

“If you poke me one more time, I’m going to punch you.”

“I should hate you.”

“On a scale from one to Romeo and Juliet, how bad was that story?”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“This is the worst idea ever.”

“This is stupid.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I don’t eat chocolate.”

“It’s just rain.”

“I said no, that means no.”

“Come watch the stars with me.”

“It’s not a date.”

“It’s totally a date.”

“Your kiss is like poison.”

“I’m not leaving this bed.”

“I’m never showing my face to the outside world again.”

“That was so embarrassing.“ 

“There’s so much idiocy in this room.”

“You make it hard to breath.”

“I want a pet.”

“We could always just get wasted.”

“Come play video games with me.”

“Come have a Netflix date with me.”

“Use protection!”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“Just shut up.”

“I’m not good with small children.”

“If I never teach my kids how to shoot a marshmallow shooter, I have failed as a parent.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s my shirt.”

“We could always just make out?”

“I have a date with an ice cream carton and on demand movies.”

“Give me a chance. Or at least like, half a chance.”

“You’re acting all Edward Cullen-ish, and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“We could always play truth or dare?”

“You’re on a roll tonight, aren’t you?”

“You’re a problem.”

“I’d be so content with never seeing you again.”

“I think I saw you in a dream once.”

“If I had to choose between talking to you and having to eat a cup of screws, I’d probably still go with the screws.”

“I didn’t mean to break it.”

“I don’t know, but I probably had sex with him/her.”

“Stop being a judgy asshole.”

“I can’t control that!”

“This was a natural response.”

[bunchofrpmemes]

Send my character a ★ and I’ll bold everything they feel toward your character.

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // You’re nice // You’re mean // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

[ohjournclist]

three years old you are, when your parents first fight.                their shouts seem to bounce  against the walls, shattering your               home and your belief that they love each other. it is a moment                you won’t remember when you are older, one you forget as it is               painful. you hide under the kitchen table, legs still fragile and                smile still innocent, and you listen, not understanding what they               say, but hearing the way they speak and knowing something                is wrong.

six years old you are, when your mother gossips about your dad.               you hear her voice, hushed as if she’s saying something really               secret, the way kids talk when they don’t want adults to hear.               it’s ironic, that this time, it’s the adults who don’t want the kid               to hear. they fail, though, and you hear her talk about how she               never loved him, and that she only stays with him to keep up               appearances. the skeeter name, after all, cannot be harmed.

nine years old you are, when you first question someone.               not that it works out to well. your questions are avoided, and               your father asks you if you wouldn’t rather go play with your               dolls. he is tired, after all -- but you don’t know that. you are               just once again reminded that they do not want to talk to you,               because they never really do. you walk off to play with your                dolls, and you cannot help but feel angry.

twelve years old you are, when you start to hate them.               you hate the way they look at each other when they’re in one               room. you hate the way your mother snaps so quickly and your               father says nothing in return and just looks bored. you’re angry               because they should care about you, not about themselves.                you’re angry because they stay together when they seem to               hate each other.

fifteen years old you are, when you write your first story.               and it’s about them. it’s a hate fuelled piece, with words                that no eyes but her own would ever read. it’s a story about               neglection, a story of a lack of goodnight kisses and warmth               and anything a parent should give their child. it’s a way of                of opening up you have never done before, and it’s incredibly               relieving.

                         it is then, that you fall in love with the power a quill holds.                          it is then, that you grow nosier as to what other people’s                           stories are. it is then, that you have a goal, and that goal                          is to break away, to create your own voice, your own life                          your own future, where you will not wed a man, where you                          will not bring any children to this earth. it is then, that you                           decide that it should be about you, from now on, and you                          don’t care who or what gets in your way, because you know                          you can destroy anyone with just that: words.