#not voldemort

[toster-da-bred]

Actually now that I think about it. Tom Riddle absolutely has people he physically cannot touch (most of the human race) and then there’s like. 2 people he will not stop touching (harry, this is about harry)

Voldemort on the other hand, is so far removed from his humanity that the thought of other people’s touch is only tolerated if it’s for his benefit. Followers kneeling at his feet? yes. Hugs? what are you on??? (harry is an exception. harry will always be the exception)

[regulusblack-apologist]

“The tragedy is that Achilles could have stopped it. Instead he lets Patroclus die because he isn’t brave enough to face his own fate. The fate he chose when he sailed for Troy. The fate he tries to use Agamemnon to chicken out of at the last minute. Achilles is the death of Patroclus, not Hector. That’s the tragedy ”

- Choices by MesserMoon on ao3

[katherinadeluca]

"I can't lose you for I fear I might tear the world apart trying to get you back.."

- Upcoming fic

[asktheheirofslytherin]

That french ask reminded me of the love potion story. I know you have done something likewise already, but would you consider doing another one in the future?

[ooc: oooh yes. Both the love potion story and its predecessor, the death eater initiation which was rife with sexual tension. Same person /OC, who was such a fun writing buddy! I'd definitely be open to doing another ongoing scenario with them, or someone else. There were others as well I did longer from ask and response with. The regulars 🥲 y'all are great, readers and writers alike.]

[eggtqrt]

tag some people with noses

[cherienymphe]

Favorite Harry Potter character?

Tom Riddle

[stopthesefools-blog]

west IN 46 (keep right)

a friendship that died many moons past

is now water under the bridge of the small town we grew up in

rode our bikes there the summer before we started highschool

and boy, nothing smelled sweeter than the sulfur of that creek

if only we knew that was the last time we would cut our toes on those jagged rocks 

and the last time we would scream secrets into the air 

as cars drove above, roaring 

before she would know the taste of my mouth

and my mouth would know the sweet burn of stolen liquor

maybe we would have stayed to watch the sunset

maybe we wouldnt have been so eager to rush back home

new years eve of 9th grade

i screamed songs out the window of her second story bedroom

we had left the bridge behind when she moved across town

so now we watched shitty rom coms together

sitting apart on opposite ends of a blow up mattress

i spoke every thought in my head to fill the air

but her silence ate every word

and left the whole room still

and when my dad picked me up in the morning

i wondered how i had ever seen her as a mirror

how i had ever shared a bed with this stranger 

who now slept in the next room over

while i shook, silent in the dark

sitting now

back against slurs spray painted permanent into that dark cement

water whipping past as the cold bites my cheeks

i sharpie our names into the wall

maybe she’ll come back and read them and wonder

was it all just water under the bridge?