Sometimes when I do my makeup I think about not doing eyeliner but then I feel like I betraying Sirius Black the Patron Saint of Eyeliner.
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
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@sofixx87
Sometimes when I do my makeup I think about not doing eyeliner but then I feel like I betraying Sirius Black the Patron Saint of Eyeliner.
:: 🍂 ࿐ ˊˎ- happy halloween!!
rain had been pouring for hours, shutters trembling under its steady, heavy rhythm. inside, the house was warm and calm, even quiet —which was unusual for the potters. james, wearing antlers and a sweater with pumpkins, was entertaining a laughing harry. he kept raising his tiny hands, hoping to catch the plush hippogriff, but each time his father waved his wand, it flew right out of reach. both of them burst into laughter.
lily stood by the stove, waiting for the water in the saucepan to boil, since their kettle had long since broken and they hadn’t had the chance to get a new one. dumbledore had promised that it would all be over soon, yet with each passing day more lines appeared on her husband’s bright face. they both knew it was empty promise. nothing would end anytime soon, and they would have to stay here, confined, for months — if not years.
yellow leaves fell to the ground, and lily could hardly wait for the first snow, when she and harry would walk through the snow-covered yard, and he would play snowballs with his parents and the other marauders for the first time. together they would build a snowman, decorate him with a bright scarf from lily, and the most perfect carrot for his nose, brought by sirius. the snowman would stand opposite their house, and harry would see him from his bedroom window every morning.
“let’s go upstairs,” james whispered. lately, they hadn’t parted even for a second, always keeping each other in sight. “harry’s lost his antlers somewhere.”
he smiled and turned to their son, who giggled shyly and hurried up the creaking stairs. lily lifted her steaming mug and followed, calling for harry to be careful, but unable to hold back her laughter.
“i love you,” james whispered, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
“and i love you.”
the branches rattled against the windows, and someone knocked at the door.
“that’s sirius and peter. i’ll open it and be right back,” he said, squeezing her hand firmly and leaving his wand on the armrest. over the next few minutes, lily wished a hundred times that she could turn back time — to warn him, to make her husband take his wand, the only thing he could defend himself with. though it would have been useless, james wouldn’t have resisted. but lily wanted to believe otherwise… to freeze that happy moment when they were together, the three of them laughing, when she dreamed of celebrating halloween, and then christmas, in their small circle of friends. when everything was still good. but it was beyond her power.
“lily, grab harry and run! it’s him! i’ll hold him off, and you run!”
but run where?
there was nowhere to go, and all she could do in those last moments was protect her son. her sweet little harry, so much like james.
harry, who didn’t understand why his mother was crying and telling him she loved him, still smiling, waiting for his dad to come into the room.
but he would never come through that door again, never make a funny face for him, never shoot sparks of color from his wand. instead, someone else entered the room. the spark from the stranger’s wand was nothing like his father’s — and it probably hurt his mother lying by the cradle, unmoving. harry cried.
The main requirements for membership in the Alexandrian Society are:
1. being one of the most powerful medians in the world
2. being gay
after everything, afterall, i’m most astonished at the audacity of letty calling robin “birdie.”
that’s ramy’s word, not hers. but she uses it knowingly. she knows the power of words, of language, of translation, and yet she’s choosing to steal a word that’s not hers, a word that has meaning and history and love, a word that not even victoire dared use bc she knew it wasn’t hers, that it belonged to ramy and robin alone, all for her own advantage.
she used it time and time again without permission. she used it while ignoring all protests because she sees language as a tool to use, a weapon to wield. all to get ahead. letty’s another cog in the apparatus of white colonialism, exploiting that which doesn’t belong to her.
I KNEW IT
I was hoping that Snow would be played by either Ralph or Jason Isaacs🙏🏿 i LOVE this cast
hermione always had cold hands. whenever she touched someone, they would flinch and laugh, making it a running joke among her friends. but draco — he would simply take her hands in his, trying to warm them. her fingers remained cold, but the warmth that spread in her chest every time he did it was enough. draco warmed her with his care.
with his love.
sotr spoilers!!
In The Hunger Games, classical myths cast a long shadow over the story. Panem is Rome, the arena is the Colosseum, and the tributes are sacrifices made for spectacle. But there are also more subtle references — the kind that hide in small details.
Lenore Dove eats poisoned candy — sweet, colorful, and ultimately fatal.
It echoes the story of Persephone (called Proserpina in Roman myth), the goddess of spring who was taken to the underworld. She didn’t intend to stay, but she tasted the fruit. Just a few pomegranate seeds —and it was enough to bind her to the Underworld.
I hope you understood what I meant😭😭
HOW I LOVE THIS CAST
mckenna grace is playing maysilee🙏🏿🙏🏿
lenore dove I imagined a little differently, but whitney fits perfectly. she looks so much like lucy grey omg
narcissa, take a picture of me, black & bellatrix, please not again, black
me n who?
i LOVE dramione sm😩
[ ⋆🌟 𖦹°‧𝜗🌟𝜚 ‧₊ ]
D.M :: bonjour, hermione!
H.G :: salut, malfoy! je ne savais pas que tu parlais français!
D.M :: bonjour, hermione.
the hunger games & dramione
🌹🪽🕊️
draco as coriolanus snow & hermione as songbird lucy gray
"That can't be true," was the first thought that crossed Malfoy's mind. "It can't be that I got a girl from District Twelve."
But his disappointment was short-lived: as the girl — “Hermione” — approached the stage, she subtly slipped her hand behind the back of another girl, the one who had been sneering all through the Reaping, and in the next moment, a thin green snake slithered under the collar of her dress. She immediately started screaming and crying, thrashing on the ground in hysteria: from her broken words, only pleas for help could be made out.
Malfoy stood still. Not only had he drawn the weakest tribute, but now she was causing this?! How could she possibly win favor in the Capitol?!
On the screen showing what was happening in the distant and worthless District, something utterly strange was unfolding. “Hermione,” barely holding back tears, began to sing softly. Her lipstick smeared across her face, and the bright, tacky eyeshadow ran down due to the heat.
Draco was repulsed by the very thought of spending the next few weeks with such savages. The idea that he’d have to turn “Hermione” into something resembling a human, make the Capitol audience love her and vote for her — this infuriated him. What nonsense! What could have gotten into the heads of the officials?
“Hermione” recoiled and stopped singing when the mayor of the city struck her, shouting curses. The girl fell to the floor but, after a moment, continued her performance.
Looking over the room, Draco was surprised: no one was laughing, no one cast him sympathetic glances, no one mocked him. Nothing. Everyone was captivated by the unfolding spectacle in District Twelve.
Draco nervously chuckled. “Hermione” had charmed them all. Maybe he did have a chance to win the Zabini Prize after all?
The 75th hunger games was the first time that both Katniss and Haymitch were reaped.
Sirius never wanted to be like his mother, never wanted to be a Black.
He rejected any resemblance to the mother he despised, yet they were practically mirror images of each other — both strong-willed, both fighting for their ideals, both fiercely loyal. The difference was that Walburga’s loyalty lay with the deeply ingrained values of pure-blood society and her family, while Sirius devoted himself to his own beliefs, his ideals, and, most of all, his friends.
Lucy Gray Baird was a close relative of Katniss Everdeen.
In Sunrise on the Reaping, it’s revealed that Katniss’s father, Burdock Everdeen, was Lenore Dove Baird’s cousin.
Maude Ivory died giving birth to Lenore, and Lucy Gray took care of her. She likely sang to her, told her stories, and protected her. Lenore became attached to Lucy, and when Haymitch later asked about the victor from District 12, Lenore avoided the topic — it was too painful.
Later, after failing to find life beyond Panem, Lucy Gray returned to District 12, where she lived by the river and visited the Covey. She had a child, and Burdock was raised by Clerk Carmine Clade and Tam Amber, while Lucy taught him songs and about nature. This explains why Burdock knew Lucy Gray’s songs and had a talent for music.
The final chapter of Sunrise on the Reaping confirms Lucy Gray’s return to District 12, where she, Maude, and Lenore are buried. This suggests Burdock could be Lucy’s son or nephew, explaining his deep connection to the Covey’s traditions and his inherited musical abilities, later passed down to Katniss.
This is just a theory, which is unlikely to be true, and I may have made some mistakes in certain details, as I might have forgotten some of them.
✧ dramione in paris
the streets of paris were still damp from the recent rain. the air smelled of fresh pastries, coffee, and something sweet — maybe the white roses planted in flower beds outside the cafés earlier that spring. draco didn’t know why, but he felt like he could breathe easier here.
he didn’t remember how he ended up in france, why he came to paris. didn’t remember what had come before. just gray fragments of memories that made his skin crawl — an eerie coldness in his chest, whispers of voices, faces slipping away the moment he tried to hold on to them, and so much blood and pain. at first, draco had tried to piece it all together, but then he realized he didn’t want to. he didn’t want those old memories back, rearranging themselves into a complete picture. not knowing was easier.
he quickly found a job and an apartment with a view of the eiffel tower. at night, he liked to sit by the window and look at it. every saturday, he had breakfast in little cafés where they served coffee with fresh pastries. he went to theaters, museums, art galleries.
and then he met her.she was standing outside a bookshop, gazing at the display. when she noticed him, she smiled awkwardly — like you would at an old friend you’d known forever.
"draco! i didn’t expect to see you here!" she called out, closing the distance between them.
"i don’t think i remember you, mademoiselle."
at his words, she just smiled sadly, said nothing, and walked away.
they kept running into each other. turned out, she wasn’t strange at all — just interesting. she loved books and had an entire room back in london dedicated to her personal library.
"i’d love to have my own library someday," he had told her once, smiling. but for some reason, hermione turned away, looking upset, as if he had said something wrong.
draco couldn’t explain why he liked her so much, why talking to her felt so easy. why did her voice and those warm brown eyes feel so familiar? had they met before?
realizing that in 75 years of the hunger games, district 12 had only four victors — and every single one of them won by outsmarting the system—
each of them was a threat to the capitol and president snow, and they paid the price for it.no wonder president snow hated that damn district with every fiber of his being.