rosekiller <3 | she/her
93 posts
Persimmonhater - Tumblr Blog
Perciverus(Percy x Oliver x Marcus) will never not be funny because it's just three guys who are all individually unnecessarily hyper-intense about literally everything, while also being 100% convinced that they are the one(1) normal person in the polycule
do you remember when we were eleven?
family - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 190
Barty sat in his dorm, staring at the ceiling, cursing the Holidays for even existing. All he had heard for the past few weeks were, "Excited for the holidays?" "Looking forward to seeing your family?" "Happy to celebrate?"
But he was dreading it. Nervously counting down the hours until he had to look his father in the eye again. Having nightmares about being back in his home, instead of happily in his four-poster. Sighing, he turned in his bed and frowned.
"Alright?"
He jumped about a mile, not having heard Evan come in, but he still refused to turn and face him. "Just thrilled for the Holidays, that's all," he mumbled, twisting his face into a grimace.
A chuckle made him relax. "Same. Suppose we don't go back?"
He finally faced his roommate. "Father would never let me," he said, but his heart tripped at the thought.
"Someday, then," Evan shrugged. "When we're older. We can actually have a good Christmas. Buy each other presents and go somewhere nice."
"I'd like that," he murmured, thinking of someplace warm and safe. Some place far away. "Someday."
They never got the chance.
Sometimes the rats in my brain come together and start yelling “YEARNING” and in trying to appease them I ask “FOR WHAT” but they are too small so all they can say is “YEARNING” which is a very big word for such a tiny creature, even collectively
WE NEED TO START TELLING PEOPLE ABOUT BIGENDERISM
Have you ever considered that Mary had been Harry's godmother? That even at eighteen she had seen that this war was a death sentence and wanted nothing to do with it. That perhaps the first call Lily made when she found out she was pregnant was to the one person she knew could protect her son and raise him in peace? And of course Mary would have agreed, Lily was her best friend. They all hoped that it would never be needed. But then came the day it was, everything had fallen apart and with tears in her eyes she went to Dumbledore and asked where the fuck her kid was, because that what Harry was now her fucking kid. He told her no, that Harry had needed to go to Petunia who Mary had only heard terrible things about. Of course she would have protested but had no defense when told that was the only way to ensure his safety and the chance at a normal life. Have you ever considered that reason Mary obliviated herself was out of guilt? That after everything all her remaining friends were dead or as good as and she couldn't protect their son?
honestly peterbarty is hilarious in the context of them fighting for tom’s affections. they’re two competing coworkers! barty is like ‘well i went undercover as a school teacher for a year in the body of the man who murdered my lover’ and peter’s like ‘OH YEAH? IM GONNA CUT OFF MY HAND’
Can't believe I'm obsessed with a bitch named bartemius
my uncle was somewhat of a rascal. we were hanging out on the roof of his barn when i was ten, and we saw some shooting stars. he told me they were angels carrying messages from god. then he handed me his old hunting rifle and taught me how to nick one out of the sky, even when it was travelling all fast like that, and how to triangulate its location — taking me out in his rusty truck down dirt roads, unerring and unceasing, until we saw that gleaming lantern. he pocketed the note from god and took me down to a pinboard where he was working on deciphering the language with his friend who was a linguistics major but got kicked out of grad school. after they shook hands, they held on for just a bit too long and i started wondering why my aunt doesn’t live with my uncle anymore, but then my uncle took me back up stairs and taught me how to fry the angel up real nice, halo and all. it was tasty
Have you ever considered drawing rosekiller ? I honestly think they'd slay in your art style !! Also I wanna drop by and say your art is fantastic and makes me all warm and soft inside. Have a great day ♡
🌹 🔪
i find barty and regulus’s friendship so funny. we have the permanently offended, supremely uptight, haughty, easily scandalised, victorian woman-esque, judgemental heir to the richest and most prominent wizarding family on one side, and then we have the sleaziest, most lewd and reprehensible ‘human being’ on the other. everytime barty forms a full sentence a year is taken off regulus’s lifespan. and yet barty is still significantly more intelligent than his best friend, and everytime regulus is reminded of this (every day) his eye twitches and he visualises how lovely barty would look without a head.
ugh they’re so pretty
drawing for one of my moots on twt
It's "See how well you can follow instructions" time ya lil fuckers!!
Here's a poll, you can't press any of the options, that's the only rule, no voting. Reblogs, likes, and comments are totally allowed, you just can't vote
You all have one week, let's see how this goes
@maryland-no-rabies Tagging cause I need people to see this
Have fun !!
how it feels to do self care when you should be killing yourself
RAHHH THEY ARE SO PERFECT
They are so disgustingly in love with each other they just don’t know it yet
Our Little Secret - Part 1
| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 628 | Part one of three |
-
Evan shoved up onto his hands, the blankets of his bed sliding down his bare chest as he blinked in the morning sunlight.
“Barty?” he asked, confused as to why the other boy was already fully dressed and awake. And based on the hand he still had on the bathroom doorknob—the closing of which had undoubtedly caused Evan’s rude wake up call—he had been awake for a while now.
Barty looked at Evan, who didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to his chest. With some obvious effort, Barty tore his gaze away to stare at the floor. His expression wiped itself blank, and from previous experiences Evan knew that he wouldn’t enjoy whatever Barty had to say next.
“What is it?” Evan said quietly, not wanting to ask but forcing himself to anyway. He knew that it would only get worse if he put it off.
“I think that last night shouldn’t have happened,” Barty said in an awful monotone. “We weren’t thinking straight and got carried away and made a mistake.”
Evan’s hands twisted violently in the sheets.
“A mistake,” he said carefully. He could hear the way his tone had become testy, but he couldn’t stop it from coming out like that.
Barty nodded. His hair was still mussed up from where Evan had run fingers through it the night before, and the strands fell over his eyes as his head moved jerkily.
“And I don’t think we should tell Reg or Pandora or anyone, y’know? Just kinda keep it, uh, on the down-low.”
And at Barty’s words, Evan felt a wicked sense of rightness fall into place. Of course he had finally gotten what he’d wanted for ages just to have it immediately ripped away and labeled as a dirty mistake that should be kept quiet.
“It can be our little secret,” Barty continued.
“Our little secret,” Evan deadpanned, and Barty nodded enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to Evan’s complete and utter reluctance.
“Exactly.”
The blankets twisted up into a complicated heap as Evan pushed them away, shaking his head with a bitter laugh as he stood.
Barty shifted his weight nervously.
“Evs? What’s wrong?”
Evan laughed again at the pet name, and the fact that Barty was so stupidly oblivious that he couldn’t see what was right in front of his eyes. But he knew he’d say something he’d regret if he answered, so he kept his mouth shut as he shoved on some pants and a shirt.
Barty winced as Evan slammed the drawer to his dresser shut, still refusing to look at Barty as he moved throughout the room, picking up Barty’s clothes from where they had been scattered the previous night.
“Here,” he said when he was done, shoving the pile into Barty’s arms. “I think you must’ve misplaced these. But don’t worry, I’m sure it was just a mistake.”
Evan smiled, but it came out warped and wrong, more like a grimace than anything else. Barty searched his expression, looking for something that just about everyone but him could see.
“Rosie?” he asked quietly.
Evan’s response was immediate.
“Don’t call me that.”
A flicker of worry flashed across Barty’s face, but he adapted quickly. “Okay. What’s the matter, Evs?”
“Not that, either,” he snapped. Barty flinched again, and a sock fell from the pile of clothes he was holding. Barty didn’t seem to notice.
“What did I do?”
“What did you do.” Evan laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his ears. “Should I make you a list? Should I spell it out?”
Evan had spent to long being Barty’s best friend to not notice when his confusion took on the edge of frustration, his jaw tensing slightly before saying, “Can’t you just tell me plainly like any other normal person?”
-
(Part two out tomorrow)
Barty is the kind of lad to wear crop tops even in the coldest and harshest midst of winter. "Fuck off, I don't catch colds", he'd say. "I'm built different." Only to turn around with chattering teeth the moment no one is looking and practically beg Evan to pass over his hoodie.