Writing, Role Play, and Musings

Tom Riddle's Bitch. Previously violetclementineswrites. Personal: tomriddlcsbitch. Blog currently under construction. I will not use this blog as a platform to rp. If inteterested in writing/plotting, shoot me a message ❤️

[wordsnquotes]

I’d like to destroy you a few times in bed.

Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro (via wordsnquotes)

[darkandlong]

[lovelustquotes]

[the-lesbian-label]

me

[riddlesbitchwrites]

When I get sick all I want is doctor/medical plots--the kind with an unwilling patient trying to refuse treatment and the doctor is kind of callous and like “let me do my damn job.”

[thelovejournals]

no other word makes my mouth as tender as your name.

Emery Allen, “Soft Human” (via wordsnquotes)

[prokopetz]

Why are characters like Lestat de Lioncourt and Dorian Gray held up as cautionary tales about the personal cost of immortality, anyway? In both stories, it’s an explicit plot point that they were already insufferable wankers before they became immortal.

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

The cautionary tale is if your dick friend somehow becomes immortal don’t stick around waiting for it to enlighten them bc they’re just gonna get way more into murder than they were before and not much else

[glebvaganovs]

                                 THE OPERA GHOST REALLY EXISTED.           NEITHER ANGEL NOR PHANTOM, BUT A MAN WHO ONLY EVER WANTED TO BE LOVED.

There is a story of a man. Only whispers now, but a story nonetheless. As immortal as the music which flows through the very words, slips through the storyteller’s teeth like honey, entrancing all who might listen. The story tells of a man who sold his soul so his music might live forever. Bargained with the devil, both thinking themselves slick, the corners of two mouths upturned with the crooked satisfaction of one about to seize the chessboard from his opponent. His music, the shadow croons, will be all he is ever loved for. 

Only a story now, of course, ancient as the cobbled streets of the city of light. But now, somewhere in Paris, is a man bent over a once pristine set of ivory now drenched in crimson. He weeps, and the ache he feels in his soul might once have inspired others to weep for him. But the city is burning, and the inferno which now blazes around him is all his own doing. 

               THERE IS SOME MUSIC SO TERRIBLE THAT IT CONSUMES ALL WHO APPROACH IT.

This story does not begin here, however. No, the downfall of the Angel of Music comes at the very end. This is not the Phantom you know, and this is not his Paris. As the man in the mask looks down on his theatre, a war wages on below. Gunfire echoes in the dressing rooms as often as arias, silken costumes torn through lie among ill-gotten gains and fallen loyalties. Two opposing organizations, each thinking they have sole claim to Le Théâtre de Nuit. This, my dear friends, is where our opera begins.

               ❝  DESTINY HAS                                      CHAINED YOU TO ME                                                                             F O R E V E R. ❞

reblog this promo before APRIL 21st and win a first look at the inferno character masterlist. other prizes to be revealed as teasers gather momentum. be sure to follow THE TEASER BLOG. a TALK TAG exists for comments and participation in pre-opening events, games, and giveaways. a talk tag introductory post questionnaire will be posted in the upcoming days. first place winners in this promotional contest will recieve early access to a character bio of their choosing, as well as early access to the application form. second place winners will only recieve early access to the application. two winners will be selected every fifty notes. reblog to enter, one entry per person. 

[hermionc]

And then he was raising his wand and there was a moment—half a moment, even—of horrified expectation, and his gaze was sharp and hard and deadly, unwavering and unrelenting, like some kind of avenging wrathful predator— “Avada Kedavra.” He didn’t shout. It wasn’t loud. He spoke with casual conviction; and the words felt strangely elegant, fucking pretty, reducing all of our bodies to deaf blind shadows, quivering in the preternatural, too-long flash of bright green light—because we were statues, his statues, and the jumbled, nonsensical chaos of the previous half-hour was gone, forgotten, vanquished, and for the first time since I had arrived in 1944, I was able to recognize Voldemort. I was able to see what must have been there all along, lying dormant, pretending to be dead, waiting to be released— No one moved.

NIGHTMARE by @provocative-envy  (via chervlblossom)

[sandsgold]

[riddlesbitchwrites]

Ginny: [in a patronus message] DRUNK FLYING

Harry: Please message me if you survive

Ginny: [later] LAND HO BITCH

[thoodleoo]

more of my favorite ancient roman graffiti

i am a friend (cil 4.7351a)

narcissus, narcissus was horny here, narcissus was horny here (cil 4.8785

i fucked here on august 14th and 21st (cil 4.4260)

this very doofy camel:

let the bears devour me (cil 4.10656)

a guy riding a deer:

you are a great big dick (cil 4.6641)

(in a line of iambic poetry) when an old man lies back, his balls cover his crack (cil 4.4488)

(in a dining room) i buggered six people here (cil 4.4520)

what (no, literally, that’s all it says. same, buddy) (cil 4.10563b)

this sexy lady:

secundus shits here, shits here, shits here (cil 4.3146)

phoebus the perfumer had a great fuck here (cil 4.2184)

here placidus fucked whatever man he wanted (cil 4.2265)

(at an inn) vibius restitutus slept here alone and really missed his urbana (cil 4.2146)

chius, i hope your hemorrhoids open up again so that they burn worse than they’ve ever burned (cil 4.1820)

pyrrhus to his colleague chius: hello! i’m quite upset because i heard that you are dead. so, bye (cil 4.1852)

whoever is in love ought not to take hot baths, for no one can love flames when he has been burned (cil 4.1898) 

if anyone has not seen the venus which apelles painted, let him look at my girl: she shines just like it (cil 4.6842)

[incorrectshakespeare]

I don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth

Ophelia, Act IV, Scene V (via incorrectshakespeare)

[lhzthepoet]

Mythology Around the World: Common Themes:

The Stars 

[riddlesbitchwrites]

Plotting Call

Getting muse for an old character (her bio here). Really want to get back into the role play community, like/comment/message for plotting! Indie. Selective. Blog under construction.

[thequotejournals]

I didn’t say I liked it… I said it fascinated me. There is a great difference.

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via wordsnquotes)

[riddlesbitchwrites]

Different Types of Hufflepuffs

The Soldier: the epitome of "Yes, we can" always defying odds, Eye of the Tiger playing in the background

The Sunflower: Friends with everyone, never gossips, some bitter people don't like them because "no one is ACTUALLY that nice" yes they are

The Punk: wears exclusively leather, probably has hair dyed a crazy color, chokers are a must, does not put up with people's shit

The Dork: blushing 80% of the time, loves the little things in life, lives for sweater vests

The Guardian: will fight anyone who talks shit about friends, probably has a hit list

The Designated Driver: always taking care of friends, gets called "Mom" or "Dad" a lot, low key loves it

The Golden Child: perfection™ incarnate, cannot do anything wrong, probably was on the LIFE cereal boxes as a kid

The Sass Master: has a snarky comeback for everything normally followed by a chorus of "yassss queen", lives life with a smirk or cocked eye brow

[thequotejournals]

Let no man pull you so low as to hate him.

Martin Luther King Jr. (via wordsnquotes)