Same
Show & Tell

Andulka
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Sade Olutola
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Janaina Medeiros
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosmic Funnies
No title available

@theartofmadeline

No title available
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@theevershipping
Same
what the fuck james
Tom meet Hermione as animal first time and Hermione don't want near him. Female lion, otter or cat you pick. 🙏🏻 you're so awesome!
(I’m choosing cat because I think the idea of Tom being like a crazy cat man who feeds all the neighbourhood cats who gets outrageously offended when one cat (hermione) doesnt like him is hilarious so here we are)
Hermione lived in a muggle block of flats for a number of reasons.
First of all, it was cheaper. Second of all…
Well, really, it was just cheaper. She wasn’t exactly made of money, and she had lived in the muggle world all her live besides magical school, so a muggle flat really wasn’t too strange for her.
Her neighbours were, for the most part, friendly yet reserved.
Except for 207. He was a dick.
Keep reading
Drabble // Tomione(very mildly) NSFW-ish
Tom is never uncertain.
Never gives out the impression he doesn't know what he's doing.
The way they clash together is always a battle of control.
Hermione bites his lip
And he grins in return.
Almost gleeful about her bold violence.
Until they're alone.
This work is inspired by GingernutBiscuits’, Peripety. It is extremely NSFW and if you have not read Chapter 27, this is all straight spoilers.
I am including a fraction of Gingernut’s wonderfully long, absolutely scorching, smut scene, because it feels like the words are imbued in the art—too much a part of it to not include.
However, I did restrain myself to chopping out the snippets of text most responsible for the vivid conjuring. The parts that came before, after and in-between are all mouth-watering, but to include everything would mean reposting basically half the chapter.
The only part that isn’t accurate is that in the story the enneagram does not activate and set a fire ablaze around them, but as I read the chapter it really felt like it would. Sex magic and all that.
Song on repeat: Change by Deftones
This song is, I think, a classic universal Tomione song, but it is particularly fitting for this fic. The story follows Hermione and really rocks you gently into the spaces where her sense of reality blurs and shifts until the physics of it have become so entwined with Tom (who she does not know is Tom!) that there is no going back, she has simply been unknowingly changed even if she doesn’t want to have been.
So, without further adieu, here is the art:
And then his lips, they are on hers, a ferocious sort of kiss. A kiss that is very much him, very much her. Very much them. It is burning, deeply, like hellfire, something that will never, ever burn out. Destined to burn endlessly, evermore.
She instinctively wraps her legs around him, feeling him pressing her almost bruisingly into the tree trunk, it’s bark pressing into her spine. But she hardly minds. Hardly cares.
Not when this angle, with her pressed higher, just a few inches, is enough to change everything. To allow him to kiss her relentlessly, with fervor.
She cannot be sure for how long he kisses her like this for. Only aware of each of his caresses, his hands as they press to her hips, her waist, her thighs, his lips as they most definitely bruise her own. How heated and intense the kiss is.
It feels, she thinks, half idly, around the haze that has taken over everything, like a culmination of everything. A battle at the end of it all.
He breaks the kiss then, allowing them both a few moments of reprieve, to catch their breath.
Her forehead is pressed to his, and they are breathing into one another, deep, harsh pants. It feels so very intimate.
His eyes, as deep as the depths of the black lake, are devouring as he gazes at her, meeting hers in the small space between.
The look in them steals the breath from her lungs.
His pace, then, begins to quicken, in ferocity, in fervor, and she cries out at the feel of him impaling her, the intimate parts of them connected so deliciously, so ferociously. His hands grip her hips, holding her just how he wants her. Both of their breath quickening, growing into tiny puffs of air.
“You are mine.”
It is not a question. It is a determination; a want. Words that scorch her from the inside out.
He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck as his pace continues, a building rhythm that has her rising toward that familiar, heady peak.
“Say it, love,” his words, low, tantalizing murmurs on her throat, his hand squeezes her hip, tightly, almost painfully. A warning that he will not ask again.
“Yours,” she gasps, and he groans into the side of her neck, sending vibrations running throughout her body, setting her on fire. “I’m yours.”
End story text. Just my rambling from here:
You’d think that having that experience once, or certainly twice, would be enough to trigger a bit of self control and listen to the very wise voice saying “no one at all will be paying attention to whether or not the minuscule paint strokes composing the reflection of fire light on Hermione’s big toe-nail are subtly striated enough to effect the 1/4 millimeter vertical groves that toenails actually do very obviously (when viewed under a microscope) have,” right?
Not for me!
I’d pretty quickly decide that whatever inner voice it was that responded with “but I know they’re there, and now I can actually feel good about this piece because I didn’t slack off and be lazy, allowing “other people won’t notice” to be an excuse to not strive to do my best!”
And that would have been fine once, or even twice… but this now my ninth attempt to post this piece. And the corner of Tom’s eye that you cannot even see unless you are so zoomed in that all you can see are half their faces, is currently whispering to me that it needs just a tiny bit of tweaking and it won’t take long and then, after that, the piece will finally be perfect. And I am going to not listen to it and just hit post. 🤞🙏😅
its so shiddy when u have to convince yourself to do your hobbies. like, its fun, you like it, why cant you just do it. do it. do it. but what if.... mindless media consumption instead....
im so sorry to the seven thousand of you so far who relate
upset at the accuracy of these tags
“Dressing for Revenge”—my first digital painting, named for the song I listened to on repeat the whole time I was painting it (“Vigilante Shit” by Taylor Swift).
Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger fanart inspired by the fanfic, For The Kill, by Scorpiocomplex. This (currently) 20 chapter WIP is a classic “Hermione goes back in time to fall in love with kill Tom Riddle before he grows up” fic. She is very witty in wording without any awkwardness or pretension and each chapter flows really well. Needless to say, I recommend.
Also, yes, this is a repost! I had to repost because the pixel quality of the first post was just getting to me. This post also contains a version of the painting without the story quotes too.
Anyone wanna guess the names/families of the other Slytherins? 😁
Infinite Spin, Chapter 6
Tom found Hermione exactly where he thought she’d be: sniffing the black leather binding of a book on African tribes and bouncing on her heels. He chuckled at her childlike excitement, reminding him of the way she’d run her sapphire-painted fingers lovingly over the newly released Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartridge the month before.
He wondered if she would dance while reading this, too.
Read it here!
Photo by Brandon Lopez on Unsplash
This has given me so many teenage high and low vibes. Even when Tom’s ruining everything the nostalgia is so perfectly peppered throughout this work that it still feels warm and safe. I love the feeling of sinking into every chapter—they feel like taking a micro-vacation to my own past (not a word, but ya’ll know what it means anyway). ♥️
Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger fan art inspired by “For the Kill” by Scorpiocomplex on AO3. ♥️
An Insane Moment by @theevershipping
Oil on canvas painting of Tom and Hermione by TheEverShipping on Ao3
Fic: Altered State
Posted with the artist’s permission.
Just some art that wouldn’t leave my brain thanks to the absolutely incredible writing of @ginnyruin
If you love a good drawn out “highly intelligent idiots too stubborn and innocent to realize they’re madly in love, which may or may not be helped along by the fact that they may some day have to kill each other” romp in the hay—this is the crème de la crème ♥️
I’m really into internet discourse but only pointless and stupid internet discourse like how many holes there are in a straw (it’s 2)
This is exactly what I’m talking about.
I’m sorry but mathematically speaking this question has a single objectively correct answer, which is 1 hole. This can be very simply proven; a straw and a torus are homotopic, and a torus has one hole.
i odnt think thats true one of my friends is a taurus and hes fine with gay people
i’m a taurus and i have at least three holes
after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and “everyone sins, its ok”. instead the dead are sorted into six “houses of heaven” based on the sins they chose.
We arrived first at the House of Lust. “House” is a misleading term. It was more of a camp, spread over acres and acres of lush forest. There was a white sandy beach (nude, of course) full of copulating couples. There were little cabins sprinkled all along the path, from which orgasmic moans regularly came belting out. Men with six pack abs and women with perky breasts strolled by without even noticing me and God. They only had eyes for each other, tickling and pinching each other with flirtatious giggles.
“What do you think?” God asked as we passed a nineteen-way taking place in a pool of champagne. Little cherubs flitted overhead armed with mops and cleaning supplies, thankfully. “Lust is our most popular sin.” I eyed the supermodel-like figures of a couple passing nearby, and could easily see why. “You can look however you want. Hell, you can be whatever gender you want. No fetish is too taboo, and no desire can be denied here.”
It was quite tempting, but I wasn’t ready to make a permanent decision here. “Let’s see the others,” I told God.
We carried on to Greed. We passed rows and rows of mansions, each more opulent than the next. Some of them were so large that they would have had enough bed rooms to fit my entire hometown. And so many different styles: one second, we were in a beautiful French vineyard in front of a gorgeous chateau with the Alps in the background. The next second, a warm tropical beach with a modern mansion atop breathtaking cliffs. After that, a ski chalet in Colorado with a roaring fire in a hearth large enough to fit an ox. Each one had various Italian sports cars and Rolls Royces parked in front, with the occasional smattering of boats, helicopters, etc.
“Any material desire you ever wanted,” God explained. “Your own world, where you can have everything. You want the Hope Diamond? You can fly to Washington DC in your own solid gold helicopter and buy it from the Smithsonian. Hell, you can just buy the Smithsonian.”
Also tempting, but I decided to keep looking.
Gluttony was next up. Tables and tables of the very finest foods: beautiful steaks cooked medium rare; butter-poached lobster tail; fresh oysters on a half shell; exotic wines in dusty bottles that had been hiding in the cellars of the world’s finest restaurants. Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand and simply lounged on couches and chairs near the tables, eating endlessly. As soon as the inhabitants took a bite, the food just instantly came back. My mouth watered even watching them.
“In every other House, the food is practically sawdust compared to Gluttony,” God explained. “You haven’t truly experienced heaven until you’ve been to Gluttony.”
I shook my head, and we kept moving.
Sloth was as you’d expect. An endless sea of the softest mattresses, stacked with cushions and pillows that made the story of the princess and the pea seem minimalist. Little angels visited each resident, giving them massages that made them all melt into their blankets.
Wrath was… well, a lot like what I’d expect Hell to be like. Fire, brimstone, whips, torture.. you know, the works. Except here, you weren’t the one being tortured. Every enemy you’d ever made in your real life was now under your thumb. “Lots of people choose their fathers,” God explained. “Lots of grudges against parents in general, you know. But you’re not limited to that. Someone beat you out for a big promotion back on Earth? Take your pound of flesh here.”
Then we arrived at Envy. It looked… well, a lot like home.
“Go on in,” God said, gesturing toward the door. I turned the knob and walked in… and found Emily waiting inside. She ran forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a kiss right on my lips. “Welcome home, honey.”
I looked back toward God. “Oh, don’t be coy,” he said. “You have no secrets from me. We all know that you were in love with your best friend’s wife.” She didn’t seem to hear him at all; she went back into the hall. “We all know that you just settled for your own wife while secretly pining after her. Well, this is your chance to live happily ever after.”
I peered into the kitchen. Emily was baking something, wearing nothing but an apron. Her curly black hair fell softly over her shoulder as she whisked ingredients. She turned back, noticed I was observing her, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” God whispered in my ear.
I wanted to take it. God damn did I want to take it. But I shook my head.
God seemed puzzled. “You need to make a decision,” he told me.
“I haven’t seen Pride yet.”
He scoffed. “No one ever wants Pride, trust me.”
“Well, I want to see it.”
_________________________
Pride was boring. Just a row of workbenches in a bare white room.
“I don’t get it,” I told God.
“Yeah, no one does,” he answered. “That’s why no one ever chooses it. Doesn’t cavorting in Lust sound better than sitting here building little trinkets for the rest of eternity? Wouldn’t you rather gorge yourself in Gluttony? Or spend time with Emily in Envy?”
I considered the options again. “I pick Pride,” I finally told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What? Look at it!” He gestured around the room again. There wasn’t much to look at. “Why would you choose this for the rest of time?”
“Because you don’t want me to pick it,” I told him. If he was really God, he’d know what a contrarian I can be. And I knew he was hiding something, trying to pretend like Pride didn’t exist. There was something special about it.
God scowled back. “Fine.” He led me over to one of the workbenches. In the center, there was a black space. A blank, empty void that went on forever. “Here’s your universe,” he said. “You’ve got seven days to get started.” He took his seat at the bench next to me and went back to tinkering in his own world. After a long pause, he finally spoke again: “You know, it might be nice for me to actually have some company for once.”
FUCKING I MEAN.
IT’S LIKE 7AM AND I LOVE GONNA REBLOG SO I CAN READ THIS SHIT AGAIN
… Well shit.
I feel like fandom generations are both very specific and easily conflated. Like,, you either live through so many they blur together into one hellish mess or you join in on one generation and remain blissfully unaware of the previous ones
Trekkster Gods
No internet
fledgeling fandom
women run everything
seriously where the fuck did we go wrong
fandom wouldn’t exist as we know it without these women
conventions, badges, quite a lot of taboo but also lots of fun
closely-knit communities
mostly discussions in magazines
hogging the phone so you can chat with your friends
(while trying to pretend the rest of your family doesn’t exist)
basement meetings
fanart what??
Dawn of Networking
tin-bucket sites and forums
the badly assembled DIY IKEA kits of the internet
these were strange places
i’m too young to know firsthand but I’ve heard the stories
they were like,, inhabited by eldrich beings
who would sell souls in exchange for fanfics
early RPs
nobody was quite sure what they were doing
but!! You could connect with more fans quickly!!!
made obsessing less lonely
yay
“I was there Gandalf”
Live Journal
small internet communities
the name “Ann Rice” strikes fear into your heart
also hatred, lots of hatred
adding every warning and rating under the sun, hiding behind NSFW filters even if it isn’t necessary, praying you don’t get reported or deleted
you get reported
your friends get reported
nobody is safe
fuck.
Citrus Cheesecake
DeviantArt and ff.net
bright shiny eyes
children everywhere
“more of a lime than a lemon >//< but also kind of just a lemon with fluff?”
where did all the adults go? Where were they hiding??
pls don’t flame
A/N *dances away from your flames because idgaf*
omggg such a nosebleed!!!! XD lol
characters and authors having conversations in the author’s notes
Archive of Our Saviours
ooo we found the adults
mass migration by younger fans to Tumblr, Ao3 etc
looking at fandom’s earlier stages like “I have no memory of this place”
ratings that had nothing to do with fruit
(thank gods)
fandom grows up
we are all grateful
we have proper websites to call home
wanderers can finally settle down
many fans are Tired
We’re here again, Gandalf
your elbows are explicit
cats are explicit
there are legends of a paradise of pillows
but none of us wants to leave hell
blue blue blue
a well-respected petblr is flagged as explicit
will we be here in January?
who will survive?
those with sense watch the chaos from Ao3, sipping mocktails
but we’re not really scared
nothing can kill fandom
not even god.
tag yourself I’m dawn of networking
Lotorallura from Twitter has come up with another treasure thought :)