No title available
tumblr dot com
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
titsay
🪼
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h
will byers stan first human second
Show & Tell
Mike Driver
icyghini twinkie
𓃗
Stranger Things
almost home
Product Placement
$LAYYYTER
No title available
The Stonewall Inn
blake kathryn
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@ruthling29
Thinking about little Remus the first time werewolves are mentioned in defence against the dark arts. His shoulders are too small to fit his robes and his hands shake and his feet can’t even touch the ground as he writes about all the ways he’s a monster.
My poor baby 😭
Cute little rainbow heart for pride month tumblr but how about you stop disproportionally banning trans women and marking sfw queer posts as mature
Happie Pride month to all my lesbians, gays, bi-sexual, trans, queer, asexual, ace and intersex (and straight) people ✨
Own your true self ❤️
Note: Pride month is celebrated here but Tumblr still blocks trans people....Maybe we can truly be happy if that stops.
once i learn how to argue without bawling my eyes out it’s over for everyone
I swear I am working on it
I swear 😭
Princess!Reader x Lily Evans
Summary: A princess refuses to marry for the throne and disappears into her kingdom to prove she can rule alone—only to fall for a girl who doesn’t know who she is. When the truth shatters everything, she must choose between duty and love, and prove she doesn’t need a king to become a queen.
A/n: My love for the Harry Potter series and the Marauders is separate from JKR and her beliefs. If you choose to support the fandom, please do so without supporting her transphobic ideas.
Part 2
The first thing Y/n noticed about freedom was how cold it felt.
Not the palace kind of cold. Not polished marble floors or silver windows untouched by sunlight.
This cold was real.
It clung to your skin as you walked down an empty forest road with mud staining the hem of your dress and your hood pulled low over your face.
You had been walking for hours. Maybe longer.
The palace was far behind you now, hidden somewhere beyond the trees and darkness.
For the first time in your entire life, there were no guards following your footsteps. No servants waiting for your orders. No crown weighing down your head.
Just silence.
You should have been terrified. Instead, your lungs finally felt full. Less suffocating.
The leather satchel slung across your shoulder carried only a few things: a change of clothes, a small pouch of coins, a dagger hidden beneath folded fabric and one ring bearing the royal crest.
You almost threw the ring into the river an hour ago. Almost.
But some part of you still couldn’t let go entirely.
The wind stirred your hair as distant lanterns finally appeared ahead.
A village. Small. Quiet.
Nothing like the capital.
You slowed.
The houses looked worn but lived in. Smoke curled from chimneys. A dog barked somewhere nearby while children ran through muddy streets laughing despite the late hour.
No one bowed when they saw you. No one lowered their head. No one even looked twice.
It felt strange. It felt wonderful.
You stepped toward the village inn, exhaustion finally catching up to you.
The wooden sign above the door creaked in the wind. The Golden Stag.
Inside, warmth immediately wrapped around you. The scent of bread and firewood filled the air.
People crowded around tables speaking loudly over one another while music played softly in the corner.
For a moment, you simply stood there. Watching. Taking it all in.
You had ruled these people your entire life from a distance.
Yet you had never really seen them.
A woman behind the counter glanced up.
“You planning on standing there all night?” she asked.
You blinked.
“Sorry,” you murmured, stepping forward.
“You need a room?”
“Yes.”
The woman eyed your cloak carefully.
“You travelling alone?”
“Yes.”
Her expression shifted slightly. Not judgment. Concern.
“That’s dangerous for a girl.”
Your jaw tightened.
“I can handle myself.”
The woman snorted.
“They all say that until someone steals their purse.”
You nearly smiled.
“What’s your name?”
The question hit harder than expected.
For eighteen years, your name had opened doors before you even spoke.
Princess.
Your Highness.
Future Queen.
Now you hesitated.
Then quietly said,
“Agatha.”
The lie tasted strange.
But the woman nodded easily.
“Well then, Agatha, rooms are upstairs.”
No recognition.
No expectation.
Just a name.
You paid for the room and climbed the narrow staircase slowly.
The room itself was tiny.
A single bed.
A cracked mirror.
A small candle flickering near the window.
And somehow…
it felt more yours than the palace ever had.
You removed your cloak and stared at yourself in the mirror.
Without the gowns.
Without jewels.
Without the crown.
You almost looked ordinary.
The thought should have frightened you.
Instead, you touched the empty place on your head where your crown once rested and whispered softly,
“Good.”
The next morning, you woke to shouting outside.
At first you assumed it was an argument.
Then you heard the sound of clashing.
You quickly pulled on your boots and stepped outside.
In the center of the village square, several boys were laughing while practicing sword fighting with wooden sticks.
Nearby, a group of girls watched silently.
One little girl stepped forward eagerly.
“Can I try?” she asked.
One of the older boys scoffed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because girls don’t fight.”
The girl’s shoulders dropped.
Something hot twisted in your chest.
You moved before thinking.
“She can try.”
Every head turned toward you.
The boy frowned.
“And who are you?”
“Someone asking a simple question.”
The girl looked between you both nervously.
The boy rolled his eyes.
“She’ll hurt herself.”
“Then teach her properly.”
Laughter erupted around the group.
One of them tossed you a wooden sword mockingly.
“Fine,” he said. “You teach her.”
You caught the weapon easily. Too easily.
A few of them noticed. You ignored it.
The little girl approached carefully.
“What’s your name?” you asked.
“Rose.”
You softened slightly.
“Well, Rose.”
You adjusted her grip gently.
“The sword isn’t heavy because you’re weak.”
Her eyes lifted toward yours.
“It’s heavy because swords are heavy.”
A few nearby women laughed quietly.
You stepped behind her, helping steady her stance.
“Feet apart.”
Rose copied you.
“Good.”
You showed her a simple strike. Then another.
Soon the boys stopped laughing.
Because Rose was learning. Fast.
By the time you finished, several girls had moved closer.
Watching. Wanting.
And you realized something awful.
No one had ever let them try.
That night, more girls arrived.
Then women.
At first only three.
Then seven.
Then nearly half the village.
You taught them in secret behind the inn after sunset.
Sword fighting. Archery. Reading. Writing. History.
Not the edited royal version.
The truth.
You watched women twice your age learn how to write their own names with shaking hands.
Watched girls who had once stood silent suddenly speak loudly.
Watched confidence bloom where fear once lived.
And slowly—
you began understanding what ruling truly meant.
Not sitting above people. Standing beside them.
“You hold yourself strangely.”
The voice startled you.
You looked up from the stack of books in your arms.
A girl leaned against the doorway of the storage room behind the inn.
Red hair. Sharp and deep green eyes. And an expression that immediately told you she noticed far too much.
You straightened carefully.
“I beg your pardon?”
“There,” she said immediately. “That.”
“What?”
“You speak like someone who’s spent her entire life being listened to.”
Your heartbeat stumbled.
The girl pushed off the doorway and walked closer. She was beautiful.
Not in the polished palace way. Not delicate.
Real. Warm.
Dangerously observant.
“You’re not from here,” she continued.
“No.”
“I noticed.”
You tried not to smile.
“And who are you?”
“Lily.”
The name settled into your chest far too easily.
Lily glanced at the books.
“You teaching the women again tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Half the village talks about you, you know.”
“That sounds unfortunate.”
“It sounds suspicious.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“And yet you’re still here.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“Maybe I like mysteries.”
Your breath caught unexpectedly.
The corner of Lily’s mouth lifted slightly like she noticed.
Dangerous. Very dangerous.
“You’re staring,” Lily said.
“So are you.”
“That’s because I’m trying to figure you out.”
“And?”
Lily stepped closer.
Close enough for your pulse to quicken.
“I think,” she said softly, “you’re hiding something.”
Your chest tightened.
Because she was right.
And somehow that frightened you less than the way her eyes lingered on your face.
You forced yourself to look away first.
“I should prepare for tonight’s lesson.”
Lily hummed.
“Coward.”
You stopped.
Slowly turned back.
“Excuse me?”
This time Lily fully smiled.
Bright. Teasing.
Beautiful enough to ruin lives.
“You heard me.”
Then she walked away before you could answer.
Leaving you standing there completely motionless.
For the first time since leaving the palace—
you forgot entirely about the crown.
Would you like me to paint a profile for you without AI?
Sure lovely!!
Thanku ✨
Princess!Reader x Lily Evans
Summary: A princess refuses to marry for the throne and disappears into her kingdom to prove she can rule alone—only to fall for a girl who doesn’t know who she is. When the truth shatters everything, she must choose between duty and love, and prove she doesn’t need a king to become a queen.
A/n: My love for the Harry Potter series and the Marauders is separate from JKR and her beliefs. If you choose to support the fandom, please do so without supporting her transphobic ideas.
The throne room had always felt too large for comfort. Not because of its size—but because of its expectations.
You stood at the center, beneath the towering stained glass that painted your skin in fractured colors. It made you look like something divine. With your hair neatly combed and gown spilling out like a whisper, you simply looked ethereal.
You had never felt less like it.
“Your Highness,” the council elder began, voice smooth with rehearsed authority, “the time has come to finalize your future.”
You didn’t respond.
You already knew what was coming.
Your mother sat beside the throne, posture perfect, eyes softer than the rest—but not soft enough to stop this.
“You will be queen,” she said carefully. “But as tradition demands, you must marry.”
There it was. Not you will rule. Not you are ready. But you must marry.
You let out a quiet breath, steadying yourself.
“And if I refuse?”
Silence fell like something sharp.
The elder spoke again, slower this time. “A queen does not stand alone. A kingdom requires a king beside her.”
“No,” you said.
The word echoed louder than you expected.
“It requires a ruler. And I am one.”
A ripple moved through the court—shock, disapproval, something close to offense.
Your father’s voice cut through it. “This is not a debate.”
“It should be,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “You raised me to lead. Not to be handed over like a treaty.”
Your mother stood then, descending the steps slowly.
“This is not about control,” she said, softer now. “It is about stability. The people expect—”
“The people expect what they’ve been told to expect.”
That landed.
You could see it.
Feel it.
“And I intend,” you continued, quieter but sharper, “to show them something different.”
Your father’s expression hardened. “Enough.”
A pause.
Then, final, sharp and cold—
“We will begin searching for suitors immediately.”
Something inside you stilled.
“Then you’ll have to do it without me.”
That night, the palace slept.
But you didn’t.
You stood before the mirror one last time, staring at the person they thought they knew.
The future queen.
The obedient daughter.
The girl who would fall in line.
Slowly, you reached up—and removed your crown.
You set it down gently.
Not as surrender.
But as a promise.
Then you turned—
And walked away.
(P.S There is definitely going to be part 2 and can anyone suggest any title for the story?)
trying to prove a point to the boys at school
reblog this if you believe trans men are real men like this if you dont
As a trans man. Yes. I’m a real man and so are the rest of us.
i love how the reblog-to-like ratio is 8:1
i am rigging this thing
I shall reblog lots more
I might queue this a bunch. To save my moots for once.
Thinking abt James Potter joining a karate class for funzies but ends up meeting Regs there. Completely amazed by Regs skill he asks him to teach him. With much fuss Regs finally gives in and they end up meeting each other every week.
After weeeekss of this, James finally beats Regs and Regs is fuming under him but they end up making out. :P
AIGHTT, any fanfic writers here?
Jegulus fic
Somewhere Between the Strike and the Fall
James Potter did not join a karate class with any serious intentions.It was supposed to be a joke, really. An challenge given to him by his friends. And James figured why not. He could have something to brag about, maybe learn a cool move or two.
What he did not expect was to find Regulus Black there. Regulus, his best friend's brother. Regulus, who was perfect in everything he did. Regulus, who moved like he’d been doing this his whole life—precise, controlled, annoyingly perfect. No wasted energy, no unnecessary show-off moves. Just skill.
When a match took place between them, James got knocked down in under a minute (not entirely unexpected).
He lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling, slightly winded, and then—"Teach me," he breathed out.
Regulus looked at him like he’d just said something deeply offensive.
"No."
"Come on,"James grinned, already getting back up. "You’re clearly the best one here."
"I am not interested."
"You will be," James said easily. "I am very persistent.
Regulus scoffed. James took that as a challenge.
It took way more effort than James would ever admit out loud.He showed up early. Stayed late. Asked questions. Got knocked down again. And again. And again. Regulus ignored him. Until one day he didn’t.
"Your stance is wrong," Regulus muttered one evening, not even looking at him.
James blinked. "Oh? And you’re going to fix it?"
Regulus sighed like this was the worst decision of his life. Then he stepped closer, adjusted James’ footing with a quick, firm nudge. "Don't lean like that. You’ll lose balance."
James grinned. "So you are teaching me."
"I am correcting a mistake," Regulus said sharply.
"Same thing."
It wasn't. But it became that anyway.
They started meeting every week. At first, it was strictly practice. Regulus correcting him, James trying (and failing) to keep up.
Then it became… something else. Small conversations between drills. Sarcastic comments. The occasional almost-smile from Regulus when James did something right. James started looking forward to it more than he should have.
Weeks passed. And one day—finally—James didn’t fall. He moved right. Anticipated. Countered. And before Regulus could recover, James had him pinned. Flat on the mat.
James froze for half a second, breath slightly uneven, adrenaline rushing through him.
"…I won," he said, almost disbelieving.
Regulus did not look impressed. He looked furious.
"Get off," Regulus snapped, eyes sharp, chest rising and falling a little too fast.
James didn’t move. "Or what?" he shot back, grin slipping into something more dangerous.
Regulus’ glare didn’t falter. “l"You’re insufferable."
"And you’re avoiding the fact that I just beat you."
"Once."
"Still counts."
There was a pause. A shift. Something unspoken, sitting heavy between them. James became suddenly, very aware of how close they were.
Regulus’ hand tightened slightly against his shoulder. "You’re still on top of me, Potter."
"Yeah," James said quietly. "I noticed."
Another pause.
Regulus didn’t push him away. That was the problem. Or maybe the answer. James leaned in before he could overthink it. For a split second, he thought Regulus would turn away. He didn’t.
The kiss was sharp at first—more challenge than anything else. But it didn’t stay that way. Regulus pulled him closer instead. And suddenly, winning didn’t feel like the biggest victory anymore.
Slowly the kiss deepened. James tugging at Regulus's hair. Regulus's hand wrapped around James's neck pulling him further still. James bit Regulus's lip, earning a quiet gasp from. He slid his tounge inside and found the other waiting even more eagerly. The room filled with stiffled moans, and the quiet sound of their tounges fighting with each other.
They eventually broke apart. Both out of breath, their forehead sweaty and their clothe fabrics crumpled and damp.
They rested their foreheads against the other and caught their breath.
James has a stupid grin on his face and Regulus had a small smirk.
"Your brother is going to kill me," James muttered.
"I don't really care Potter."
"Good. Cause I don't either."
And then he leaned in for another kiss. This was more passionate, slow and raw.
Aimed For The Moon But Landed On A Star
Sirius Black x fem!reader fic (Use of Y/n)
Summary: You fall in love, but it doesn’t go the way you hoped. So you chooses yourself—until something unexpected finds you. This time, it’s real. You aimed for the moon, but found your star.
A/n: My love for the Harry Potter series and the Marauders is separate from JKR and her beliefs. If you choose to support the fandom, please do so without supporting her transphobic ideas. A fic filled with angst and slight fluff at the end.
"Shoot for the moon, because even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."
She never thought she’d live that truth.
It started in her second year at Hogwarts.
Remus Lupin wasn’t loud like James or reckless like Sirius. He was quiet, kind in a way that didn’t demand attention. The kind of kindness you only noticed if you were paying close attention.
And she was. Always. Maybe it was the way he helped her that one time in the library—patient, gentle, never making her feel small. Or maybe it was how he seemed to understand things without them being said. Whatever it was, from that moment on, she saw him.
And once you saw someone like Remus Lupin, it was hard to look away.
Feelings grew quietly, like pressed flowers between pages. Hidden. Safe. Until one day, they weren’t.
She decided to tell him. She mustered up all her courage and went towards Remus's dorm room, her hand ready to knock. Her heart was racing, hands trembling, words barely forming—and then she heard him. "Y/n? I don’t see her that way." It was soft. Apologetic, even. But it was enough.
She didn’t stay to hear the rest. Didn’t hear Sirius’ voice cut in after—"You’re an idiot, Moony. I think Y/n is a great girl. She is kind, pretty and lovely. And you don't like her...I don't know what is wrong with you. I would be over the moon if she liked me."
But she was already gone. She hadn't heard him.
And just like that, something inside her folded in on itself.
Avoiding Remus became second nature. She filled her time with everything else—friends, studies, laughter that came easier than she expected. She told herself she was fine. That it didn’t matter. And after a while, it didn’t. Because somewhere along the way, without her even noticing, Sirius Black slipped into the spaces Remus once filled.
At first, he was just…..there. Annoying. Charming. Always too close, too loud, too much.
But he made her laugh when she didn’t want to. Stayed when she pushed him away. Looked at her like she was something worth knowing. And slowly, impossibly, she started to fall again. Except this time, it wasn’t quiet. It was real, chaotic and confusing and terrifying. So she ran. Again.
"You’re doing it again."
She froze at the sound of his voice. Sirius stood there, hair damp from the rain and the beautiful black curls falling in his eyes that were sharper than usual.
"Running away from me. Avoiding me. Care to explain?"
"I’m not—"
"Don’t lie to me Y/n," Sirius cut her. His voice raw and aching.
Silence. The rain picked up, soft at first, then heavier, like it was urging her to speak.
"I like you," she finally said, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "And I didn’t mean to, and I know how this ends, and I don’t want to lose you too-"
“Too?” he cut in gently.
She hesitated. “Remus.” Something flickered across his face, recognition perhaps, but he didn’t interrupt.
"I liked him," she continued, voice quieter now. "And he didn’t feel the same. I heard him say it. And I can’t…..I can’t go through that again. Not with you."
The rain soaked through her clothes, her hair clinging to her face, but she didn’t move. Neither did he. For a moment, all she could hear was her own heartbeat. Then Sirius stepped closer.
"You’re wrong." She blinked.
"What?"
"I do feel the same."
The world seemed to pause for them.
“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he admitted, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. “Was just waiting for you to notice.”
Her breath caught. “You’re serious?”
“Obviously. Don't tell me you liked me without knowing my name” he said with mock offence and a sly grin tugging at his lips. Then added more softly, “But yeah...about you, always.”
And before she could overthink it, before fear could pull her back again— she kissed him.
It was warm and real and everything she hadn’t let herself hope for.
The rain fell harder, but neither of them cared.
She had reached for the moon once—quiet, distant, beautiful from afar. But somehow, without realising, she found a star instead—closer, brighter, impossible to ignore. And this time, when she reached out… the light reached back.
About Me
Name: Ruth; Nationality: Indian (Tamil); Pronouns: she/her; Bisexual
Heyyy!!
I am Ruth, an average girl trying her best...
I love books (reading and writing) and music
Writes fics, aus and povs related to Harry Potter era, Marauders era, The Cruel Prince, Stranger Things, Marvel (mostly avengers). [Mostly fluff and angst]
Requests are always open, so feel free to ask anytime
(Sudden idea that popped into my head in the middle of the night and decided to write and post it because why not)
When I Got It Right
Regulus never thought he’d end up liking James Potter.
No....not his brother’s best friend. The loud one. The one who laughed too much and never seemed to take anything seriously. Because James was everything that Regulus was not.
They were nothing alike.
Regulus liked things quiet, controlled or so he thought until he met James Potter.
It started small. Sitting near each other without really planning to. Conversations that were supposed to be short but somehow weren’t. James talking, Regulus listening—and then, slowly, talking back.
“You don’t talk to anyone else like this,” James said once.
“Maybe I don’t like anyone else like this,” Regulus replied before he could stop himself and looked up too quickly to see James's reaction with a slight tinge of pink on his face..... barely visible but the blush was always there when he was around James.
James didn’t laugh. Just looked at him. Not with his usual grin which was too big for his face, not with his usual cocky manner. No...this was softer, something that was only there for his Regulus.
That was the problem.
James wasn’t careless. He cared—a lot, actually. About people. About things that Regulus had been taught not to question. And Regulus, he understood.......more than he let on.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Regulus said one evening. He didn’t mean the place.
James shrugged. “Then why do you let me stay?”
Regulus didn’t have an answer....like always, because he asked himself the same question so many times but could never find an answer. Or maybe that is what he said to himself.... because he knew deep down what the answer to the question was, he cared about James, he loved James.
But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not with him. Not when everything around them made it complicated.
But somehow, being with James felt…different. Simpler, not forced like it usually was with his parents insisting he have pureblood friends...never forced....it was just simply beautiful.
Wrong, maybe. Unexpected, definitely.
But simple.
And Regulus found that he didn’t want to let that go, ever.
He would love James Potter.....always...even if it meant few things would need to be sacrificed.
He would sacrifice everything he ever loved if it meant he could have James.
He realises then, much more clearly than ever that he fell too deeply in love with James Potter, that he would be willing to do anything for him and that he would love him forever..... always. And that maybe James was the only right thing in his life that was filled with wrongs.
Happy Remus "Moony" Lupin Day ✨ 🥳
Happiieee Birthday Remy ❤️🤍❤️
Please note that my Marauders fandom participation is not support for JKR. Please avoid actions that fund or support her views.
Happiieee Birthday Min Yoongi (Suga) (August D) ✨❤️
Happy Yoongi (Suga) Day 🥳 9 March 1993
BTS is back!
marriage is scary what if he’s not like the guys in the books i read
Couldn't agree more love 🥹
