#& fred f.

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956)

[httpvomitello]

could you write something for fred weasley, where she is a ravenclaw a year younger than him.

set during the order of the phoenix

i just imagine him pining over her and she is completely clueless!!

thank you so much 💓

Owwn, that's sooo cute! I hope you like it ~ ♡♡

Her Wit, His Heart *⁠.⁠✧

Fred Weasley wasn’t used to being subtle. Subtlety wasn’t his style, nor was it George’s. Together, they thrived in chaos—big laughs, loud pranks, and cheeky grins that could charm anyone. But when it came to you, the Ravenclaw with a sharp wit and a knack for disappearing into books, Fred was completely out of his depth.

It started during his sixth year at Hogwarts, just after the Yule Ball. He’d spotted you sitting by the lake, scribbling in a notebook while everyone else was in the Great Hall. You’d looked serene, the light casting a soft glow on your face, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Fred couldn’t look away.

From that moment on, you were everywhere in his mind—your quiet laugh, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were focused, your quick comebacks during classes that left even the professors impressed. Fred was smitten, but you? You didn’t seem to notice.

The next year, with the return of the Order of the Phoenix and Umbridge’s suffocating reign at Hogwarts, Fred’s feelings for you only deepened. You were a year younger, busy with OWLs and your role as a prefect. Somehow, amidst the chaos of rebellion, studying, and secret meetings, Fred found himself looking for you at every opportunity.

“Oi, Fred,” George said one evening as they prepared for another Dumbledore’s Army meeting. “You’ve got that ridiculous look on your face again.”

Fred frowned, tossing a Dungbomb into his bag. “What look?”

“The one you get whenever she’s around,” George teased, smirking. “It’s pathetic, really.”

Fred tried to play it cool. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Oh, please,” George said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been pining after her for months. Why don’t you just tell her?”

Fred hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “She’s… different, George. She’s not like the others. And besides, she’s clueless. She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

George snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re Fred Weasley. Everyone knows you exist. Just talk to her.”

Fred groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

It wasn’t. Because you, brilliant and focused, seemed completely unaware of Fred’s attention. When he made jokes in the Great Hall, your laugh was polite but distracted. When he tried to help you in the library—“You don’t need that many books, love. I’ll carry a few for you.”—you thanked him absentmindedly before disappearing into the stacks.

Fred even tried showing off during Quidditch practice, pulling risky stunts that earned cheers from the stands, but your head was buried in a book.

“Clueless,” Fred muttered to himself as he landed his broom, shaking his head.

The tipping point came during one of the Dumbledore’s Army meetings. You had joined after hearing about the group from Luna Lovegood, and Fred had never been more grateful for Harry Potter’s rebellious streak.

That night, the Room of Requirement was buzzing with energy. Fred watched as you stood at the back of the room, your wand poised as Hermione demonstrated a disarming spell. You were biting your lip in concentration, and Fred felt his heart do a ridiculous flip.

When it was time to practice, Fred saw his chance.

“Need a partner?” he asked, sidling up to you with his trademark grin.

You looked up, surprised. “Oh, Fred. Sure, if you don’t mind.”

Fred pretended to be casual, but his heart was racing. As you practiced the spell, he couldn’t help but admire how determined you were, how focused.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he said after you successfully disarmed him for the third time.

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Fred laughed. “Not too bad? I’m brilliant, love.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, and Fred took it as a small victory.

Over the weeks, Fred found more excuses to talk to you. He’d sit next to you during DA meetings, crack jokes to make you smile, and even sneak you sweets from Honeydukes.

But you remained oblivious, chalking up Fred’s attention to his usual charm and friendliness.

One evening, after a particularly intense DA session, Fred found you lingering in the Room of Requirement, studying your wand with a thoughtful expression.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

You looked up, startled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just… everything feels so serious lately.”

Fred nodded, his usual grin fading. “Yeah, it does.”

There was a pause, and then you added softly, “But it’s good to have this. To feel like we’re doing something that matters.”

Fred stared at you, his chest tightening. He wanted to tell you how much you mattered—to him, to this fight, to everything. But the words caught in his throat.

Instead, he said, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I mean it. You’re brilliant and kind and… you’ve got this way of making everything seem less terrible. I don’t know how you do it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away. “Fred, I—”

Before you could finish, the door opened, and George poked his head in. “Oi, Fred! We’re leaving.”

Fred sighed, his moment ruined. “Be right there.”

As you gathered your things, Fred cursed himself for being such a coward.

It wasn’t until a week later, during a rare quiet evening in the library, that everything changed.

You were sitting at a table, surrounded by books, when Fred appeared, holding a chocolate frog.

“For you,” he said, sliding it across the table.

You looked up, puzzled. “Why?”

Fred hesitated, then said, “Because I like you, alright? And not in the ‘you’re my friend’ kind of way. I like you.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I know,” Fred continued, his cheeks reddening. “You probably think I’m joking, but I’m not. I’ve liked you for ages, and I’m terrible at hiding it, and—”

“Fred.”

He stopped rambling, looking at you nervously.

“You like me?” you asked, as if you couldn’t quite believe it.

Fred nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “I… I think I like you too.”

Fred blinked. “You think?”

You laughed softly. “I’ve never thought about it before, but… yeah. I do.”

Fred grinned, his heart soaring. “Well, that’s a start.”

And as you shared your first kiss in the quiet corner of the library, Fred decided that all the pining had been worth it.

[weirdlookindog]

“The things our terror dreams are built on”

Fred Humiston (1902-1976) - Heading for William F. Temple's 'Triangle of Terror'

(Weird Tales Vol.42 #4, May, 1950)

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

🤦🏻🤦🤦🏽

[f-o-and-selfship-club]

Did this favourite character bingo but it's with my beloved crushes –w–

Your free to try it out if you want!

Characters in order (left to right)

First row

Zavok (Sonic)

Stocking Anarchy (Panty and Stocking)

Ragdoll (The Batman 2004 Series)

Vulture (The Spectacular Spider Man)

Question (Justice League Unlimited)

Second row

Paimon (Helluva Boss)

Doc Ock (Spectacular Spider Man)

Caine (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Freaky Fred (Courage The Cowardly Dog)

Mario.EXE (Mario's Madness)

Third row

Sub Zero (Mortal Kombat)

Dr Strangeglove (Moshi Monsters)

Meta Knight (Kirby)

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)

Fourth row

Neo Cortex (Crash Bandicoot)

Katz (Courage The Cowardly Dog)

Jafar (Disney's Aladdin)

Emperor Zurg (Buzz Lightyear of Star Command)

MX (Mario 85 and Mario's Madness)

Fifth row

NOS-4-A2 (Buzz Lightyear of Star Command)

Scarecrow (Injustice 2)

Bob Velseb (Spooky Month)

Mad Hatter (Batman: The Animated Series)

HIM (Powerpuff Girls)

[immobulusmalfoy]

Until We Drink // Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Summary: Friends with benefits with Fred turn into some feelings. Based on "Until We Drink" by Savannah Sgro. Warnings: Drunk sex and FWB, but no description of the act. A/N: Apparently I'm on a Fred kick, so enjoy this little song fic.

------------------------------------------------------

In the kitchen doing shots around the sink // sloppy dancing turns to kissing in your sheets

“Freddie!” you shouted, nearly bowling over the tall, gangly ginger. “Congratulations, lovey!”

“Why thank you, darling.” Fred grinned, having caught you in his arms from your dangerous assault. “Been drinking already, have we? Hope you saved some firewhiskey for me.”

“You’ll have to just go and see, Freddie.” You smiled lazily up at the boy and he kept you wrapped tightly in his arms. Gryffindor had won the match against Ravenclaw earlier, meriting a celebration. But when you drank firewhiskey, you became a tipsy, clumsy mess and Fred didn’t fancy watching you fall over on his watch.

You and the twins had been friends for years. Ever since Fred knocked you down with his cart in King’s Cross your second year, you’d been best friends (once he offered to buy you a cauldron cake, of course). Fred wasn’t about to keep being responsible for your falls, unless you were falling for him.

“Hey sweetheart, you wanna sit for a bit?” Fred asked. “You’re gonna topple over in those heels. I’m gonna set you down and go grab us some drinks.”

Fred gently settled you down on a couch and left to grab a drink. But by the time he came back, he could tell you were getting properly sloshed from the glassiness of your eyes and the way your face looked. Fred wasn’t too far behind, having had at least three cups of butterbeer throughout the night and nursing the fourth. Or fifth? He’d lost count.

Fred flopped down beside you and handed you a cup of butterbeer (though he was sure it had to be at least a little bit spiked) while he downed the rest of his own cup of firewhiskey. You’d already found your way into Fred’s side and now lay sort of sprawled on the side of his body and over his chest. He couldn’t say he minded, though.

“You’re so comfortable.” You mumbled into Fred’s chest. Fred was thankful you were both wasted enough not to notice how red his cheeks grew.

Fred lost count of how much alcohol the both of you had drank and before he knew it, you were kissing in the halls of the boys dormitory and his hands were all over you. Fred couldn’t recall how you’d gotten into this situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Fuck me, Freddie.” you murmured into his mouth, and he went with it, alcohol still coursing in his system. If he were sober, he wouldn’t have gone so willingly, but you were sighing into his mouth and kissing his neck and running your fingertips in places you normally didn’t. Fred’s self control was gone.

“Yeah alright,” he found himself saying as he pulled you into his dorm room and the two of you became tangled in the sheets.

‘Cause we’re friends, we’re just friends // until we drink

You woke up in Fred’s bed, not an unusual occurrence. You snuggled deeper into his side before making the horrifying discovery that neither of you were wearing pants or tops or anything—well, Fred had a sock that you could feel against your bare feet.

“Oh Godric, what have we done?!” you gasped, and promptly fell on the floor after your abrupt scooting away. Fred groaned and finally opened his eyes.

“Y/N?” He asked sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“Fred, where are your clothes? Where are my clothes while we’re at it?” You scrambled to grab a blanket to cover up. Fred blinked down at you from the bed and then realized what had happened.

“Oh. Um.” He fumbled and lifted the sheets to look down at his unclothed lower half. “I think we had sex?”

“No shit, Weasley. But why?” You deadpanned.

“Come back to bed so we can talk about this.” Fred coaxed you, holding up his own blanket to beckon you closer. He involuntarily gave you a look at his lower half and you averted your eyes while you considered his offer.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t resist him. There was no harm in talking it over. After all, the damage had already been done. So you slid into the bed next to him, clutching the sheets to cover yourself.

“Not like I haven’t seen it all already.” Fred snorted. You smacked him in the arm and he cried out an “ow,” rubbing the reddened area. “Alright, so we did a thing.”

“We did more than a thing,” you hissed. “We had sex. You and me.” You gestured between the two of you, “Big problem. Did we even use protection?”

“Considering I woke up with a condom stuck to me and my wand in the bed, stabbing me in the leg, I think so. But what’s the big deal? We’re friends, we had sex one time, and we’re totally comfortable with each other normally. We can just go back to normal, unless you can’t.” Fred shrugged.

“You’re not weirded out by this?” You asked warily, watching his face for his tells. He wasn’t giving anything away.

“No. As far as I’m concerned, we had a really good night. If you want to forget it, we can. Orrrr—” Fred wiggled his eyebrows, “we can make it a more than one time kinda deal and get each other off now and again.”

You looked at him, baffled. Caught you off guard so quickly that you almost dropped the sheet. Almost.

“And you don’t think that would result in one or another of us catching feelings?”

“Nope. Just two mates.” Fred answered in that casual way of his that frustrated you. “We’ve been friends forever, so I feel like this was bound to happen at some point. Why not add some benefits to our friendship and have some fun?”

And so you did.

Nobody would know // you’ve seen me without clothes

Nobody knew what happened between us and you still weren’t sure how. You could’ve sworn George knew, but Fred seemed to be keeping everything quiet and it made you want to scream.

You didn’t sleep together often. But it did happen. You got too drunk one night after the Quidditch cup finals where you won and woke up in his bed again, cuddled into his side wearing his Quidditch jersey. You got a good test score and shagged in a broom cupboard somewhere on the third floor. Over and over again, you’d just casually end up having sex with your best friend and it was wearing down on you.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t like the sex. Godric, it was the best you’d ever had, not that you had much to compare it to. He always took care of you and never pressured you to do anything you didn’t want to, but you found it hard to ever say no to him, saying yes again and again as you got each other off.

The longer it went on, the more you started looking at Fred in a way that wasn’t friendship and it scared you.

We’re just friends until it’s late and all your roommates are asleep // All of a sudden got your hands all over me

You started reading into all of Fred’s actions. He was already super touchy and had been forever, or at least as long as you could remember. But now you watched everything. He would sling his arm around you in class, watch you during meals and other times when you’d catch him looking, and he made every excuse to brush your hands together. Had he always done that?

The thing is, he also flirted with other girls. He flirted with Angelina and Katie and a few other girls from your year who weren’t taken. He met them before or after class and joked with them at parties and meals. And while you were always at his side, you just weren’t sure if he was acting differently since you’d started this friends with benefits thing or if you were just imagining things. Could he be catching feelings? Were you catching feelings?

The questions plagued your mind each and every time you ended up in his bed, whether you both were drunk or not.

We never talk about what’s going on // we’re casual, we’re nothing // we’re the furthest thing from loving

It wouldn’t be so bad if you could talk about it, but you didn’t really know how to bring it up without bringing attention to the fact that you were confusing yourself. It was growing increasingly clear the longer this went on that your feelings for Fred were absolutely nowhere near platonic anymore. They were bordering on love and that scared you. It scared you so much.

And Fred? He was still so nonchalant about it all. How could you talk about it? He was still your best friend, but this wasn’t something you could just ask him about. So you buried it.

We always act like it’s nothing // like we’re just having fun

As the trysts went on, your feelings started hurting. Because while you may have Fred at night, the Yule Ball was approaching in a week and Fred hadn’t asked you. He’d asked Angelina right in front of you. Threw a paper in her face and mimed dancing with you sitting right next to him. And of course she’d said yes. Why wouldn’t she? Fred was amazing and everyone knew it. Especially you.

That was the last straw. You’d stood up and exited the hall as soon as you felt it wouldn’t tie you back to Fred’s very public display and promptly ran as far away as you could to have a good cry.

How could you sit here and be upset when you and Fred had never decided if you were going to be exclusive or how long this would last? You didn’t feel you had any right to be upset with him because it wasn’t his fault you’d fallen in love with him.

And there it was, the truth about your feelings. You were in love with your best friend and he didn’t know. At this point, he couldn’t know.

George was very confused when Fred asked Angelina, knowing that you and Fred were fooling around. How could he not know? He knew you and Fred thought you were

sneaky and that no one knew, but it was so obvious. It was even more obvious to George that you and his brother were in love with each other, but you both were clearly too stupid to realize it or tell the other one. So George asked you to the ball.

I don’t care  // I do though // I want more // Maybe I don’t

“So, when are you going to tell him?” George asked as you waltzed on the Yule Ball’s dance floor. The question froze you in place and you looked up at him in shock. “You think I didn’t know what you and Fred have been up to? We share the same dorm, sweetheart.”

“I thought no one knew.” you answered slowly, daring a glance over at Fred and Angelina as they twirled around the other side of the hall. You swore you were imagining it, but you felt like Fred looked angry. You always used to know how he was feeling; you could read it in his eyes. But now things were different.

“I don’t think anyone else knows, but I know you and Fred better than anyone. I can tell this is killing both of you, you more than him.” George said, nodding over towards Fred who had finally stepped off the floor and was getting a glass of lemonade. “You should tell him before you both get hurt.”

“I’ll think about it.” Your voice was a whisper as you answered, your thoughts spiraling.

So, you took your leave. You knew where the twins had a stash of firewhisky and you took the opportunity to liberate a bottle from under their bed to have while you contemplated what George had said.

You told yourself you’d only drink one glass, but one turned to two and two turned to three. And then Fred was waltzing into the room, one thing led to another, and you both ended up tangled in the sheets once again. It was sloppy and disorganized and left you feeling even worse when you’d finished, so you left once he fell asleep, tiptoeing back to your dorm where Angelina was asleep in her own bed.

Then the tears started and they didn’t stop until you’d cried yourself to sleep.

It doesn’t make sense // ‘cause we’re just friends // until we drink

For two weeks, you’d managed to avoid Fred’s wandering hands and kisses. You’d avoided ending up in his bed. And you were worse off for it.

Fred didn’t understand what was going on. He knew what he had been feeling the whole time. All he knew except for that was you’d both been having a good time, and the night of the Yule Ball changed everything. No longer were you sitting next to him at meals or while studying. You’d requested a seat change in the classes you shared together, and Fred was distraught. So he turned to the one person who knew him best.

George groaned once Fred finally ‘fessed up about what you and him had been doing for the past few months.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Fred.” he snapped. “She’s in love with you and you keep mucking it all up with your flirting with other girls, especially Angelina, and not treating her as a person. I mean, honestly, when did you become so thick? You both were friends, best friends, before you slept together and now you’re both stupid. She’s in love with you.”

Fred blinked at his brother as thought about what had just been said. And it all made sense. But you weren’t just in love with him. He was also in love with you and he had to do something about it.

We’re not together, but we’re not not together // I kinda like it, but I can’t do this forever

Fred searched for you everywhere. You weren’t in any of your usual spots and it was starting to worry him, so he searched for Harry next.

“Harry, mate, I need to look at the map for a second.” Fred begged, hoping the younger Gryffindor wouldn’t refuse him, and he didn’t. He quickly unfolded it, unlocked it, and found your name in the kitchens of all places. “Thanks, mate!” he shouted as he threw the paper back at Harry.

It didn’t take long to get to the kitchens and even less time to tickle the pear to get inside where he found you clad in a batter-splattered apron, baking something with a few of the house elves. Dobby sat at the counter next to you, babbling about something or another, but he was the one who saw Fred first and tugged on your sleeve to get your attention.

You turned around, eyes wide as you took in Fred’s disheveled appearance.

“Fred? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Fred bit out finally after a moment of awkward silence while he searched for what to say.

“We’ll finish this, miss.” one of the other house elves squeaked as they took your bowl and mixing spoon from you. It only took a snap of their fingers for the batter to fly into the muffin tins you’d been greasing just a few minutes before, and you sighed watching it. Your apron was removed quickly before you stepped out into the hall with Fred.

“What do we need to talk about?” you asked, voice quiet as you looked down towards your feet and twisted the end of your skirt between your fingers.

“Would you look at me first?” Fred asked, frustrated that you couldn’t even seem to look at him and he was trying to bare his heart to you.

And then you looked up, your eyes glossy, and you looked so beautiful that Fred forgot what he meant to say. He ended up grabbing you by the waist and kissing you, pressing you up against the wall of the hall. You squeaked in surprise, but melted into the kiss anyway. Until you thought about it and pushed him away.

“Stop that!”

“I’m sorry,” Fred started, “I actually had something to say.”

“Then spit it out.” you snapped, fingers brushing over your tingling lips.

“I—I,” he trailed off, running his hands through his hair and pacing right in front of you. It was stressing you out.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

You stared at him, blinking rapidly, trying to figure out if Fred had just said what you thought he did.

“And not just because we’ve slept together. I’ve loved you for years, really, and thought this was the only way I’d get to have even a part of you. It’s been killing me these last few weeks when we haven’t spent any time together, whether in bed or even just studying. I miss you and I love you and I don’t want to lose you because of my mistakes. George reckons you feel the same and I hope you do. I’m a right tosser and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, effectively shutting Fred up. He never stopped talking anyway, and it was one of the many reasons you loved him.

“I love you too,” you whispered once you’d let him go. Fred chased your lips with his own, kissing you again and again.

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend then?” he asked between kisses. You giggled, giddy with the fact that you weren’t losing your best friend. Not even close. He was becoming yours in more than one way.

“Sure, but you’re taking me to Hogsmeade on an actual date first.”

“Done. I’ll even buy you anything you want from Honeydukes for putting up with my stupidity for this long. I love you.”

You laughed, letting him kiss you over and over again, happily trading kisses of your own with your own sentiments.

And when you walked back into the common room, George whispered “Thank Godric,” because finally you’d both figured out your issues and things could go back to normal. Except now, George figured he might be getting even less sleep.

We’re casual // we’re nothing // we’re the furthest thing from loving ‘til we drink

[grimmicks]

"I could smell that honeysuckle again."

Double Indemnity (1944) dir. Billy Wilder

[capn-twitchery]

happy feast of the rose (don't look at the calendar, it's totally still february, i swear)

grace learns that accepting twitch's invite to the ball was a mistake, maybe

(begging you to fullview, veil-less version under the cut bc i like it just as much >:3)

get dipped idiot

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

The Werewolf | 1956

[sillysnaildraws]

How did this soggy Brit pull all these people??

Reference under the cut!

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Kirk Alyn as Blackhawk (1952)

[httpvomitello]

Hi! Could I request a George Weasley x Slytherin reader where they've been dating in secret for a while and they decide that it's time to meet eachother families and George invites her to the burrow for the chritsmas holidays but the Weasley are not very welcoming and she kind of gets the fleur treatment (except Fred because he already knew her) and George defends her when they are rude to her? could it also be fluffy and protective Georgie please?

Hello, hello! I hope you like it ~ ♡♡

A Slytherin Christmas at the Burrow *⁠.⁠✧

george weasley x f!reader

The snow was falling gently outside the window of the Hogwarts library as you packed the last of your books into your bag. Christmas was only a few days away, and your mind buzzed with nervous anticipation. This year, instead of spending the holidays with your family in the austere halls of your ancestral manor, you would be going to the Burrow.

George had invited you a few weeks ago, insisting that it was time for you to meet his family. Though you’d been dating in secret for over a year, you hadn’t dared to take that step. But George, ever confident, had assured you that everything would be fine.

“It’s the holidays,” he had said with his lopsided grin that made your heart skip a beat. “How could they be anything but welcoming?”

Now, as you stood on the Burrow’s crooked porch with George at your side, you weren’t so sure.

“Relax,” George murmured, brushing a reassuring hand against your back. “They’re going to love you.”

The door swung open before you could respond, and Mrs. Weasley stood there, beaming at the sight of her son.

“George! You’re finally here!” she cried, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hi, Mum,” George said, grinning as he returned the hug. “I brought someone I’d like you all to meet.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes landed on you, and though her smile didn’t falter, there was a flicker of something in her expression—hesitation, perhaps.

“Oh,” she said, stepping back to let you inside. “You must be Y/N.”

You nodded, offering your hand politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course,” she said, though her tone was a touch cooler than before.

As you stepped inside, the warm, bustling chaos of the Burrow surrounded you. Fred appeared almost immediately, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“There she is!” he said, pulling you into a quick, friendly hug. “Finally, someone to keep George in line.”

You laughed, some of your tension easing. Fred had known about your relationship for months and had been nothing but supportive.

The rest of the introductions were less smooth. Mr. Weasley was polite but distant, while Ginny’s sharp gaze seemed to size you up in an instant. Ron muttered a curt hello before disappearing upstairs, and even Bill and Charlie, who were visiting for the holidays, exchanged skeptical glances. Only Fred seemed genuinely pleased to see you.

Dinner that night was a tense affair. The Weasleys weren’t outright rude, but the subtle barbs and sideways glances were impossible to miss.

“So, Y/N,” Ginny said, her tone overly sweet as she speared a roast potato. “What’s it like being a Slytherin? Do you all sit around plotting world domination, or is that just a rumor?”

George choked on his pumpkin juice, his eyes narrowing. “Ginny, knock it off.”

“What?” Ginny said innocently. “I’m just curious.”

“Being a Slytherin doesn’t mean I agree with everything my housemates do,” you said evenly, though your heart pounded in your chest.

“Of course not,” Mrs. Weasley said, though her tone suggested otherwise.

George’s hand found yours under the table, squeezing gently in reassurance.

The comments didn’t stop there. Every question seemed designed to remind you that you didn’t belong, from Ginny’s digs about your family’s wealth to Ron’s muttered comments about “stuck-up Slytherins.” Even Percy, who had barely looked up from his book, managed to slip in a pointed remark about ambition.

By the time dessert was served, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Excuse me,” you said quietly, standing and slipping out of the room before anyone could stop you.

You found yourself outside in the snow, the cold air biting at your cheeks as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Y/N.” George’s voice was soft as he appeared beside you, his arms wrapping around you without hesitation. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, though your voice cracked.

“The hell it isn’t,” George said fiercely. “They had no right to treat you like that.”

You looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes. “I just… I thought they might give me a chance. For your sake.”

George’s jaw tightened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “They’ll come around. And if they don’t, that’s their loss, not yours. You’re incredible, Y/N. Smart, funny, kind—you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m not going to let anyone make you feel less than that. Not even my family.”

“George—”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’ve put up with enough. Come on.”

Before you could protest, he led you back inside. The chatter at the table died as you entered, all eyes turning to you and George.

“I’ve got something to say,” George announced, his voice ringing through the room. “Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I won’t stand for anyone treating her poorly. I don’t care that she’s a Slytherin, and neither should you. She’s brilliant and brave and a damn sight kinder than any of you have been tonight.”

“George—” Mrs. Weasley began, but he cut her off.

“No, Mum. You always taught us to treat people with respect, to give them a chance. Well, Y/N deserves that. So, either you accept her, or we’ll be spending Christmas somewhere else.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Finally, Fred cleared his throat. “He’s right, you know. Y/N’s great. You lot just need to get over yourselves.”

One by one, the others began to mumble reluctant apologies, and though it wasn’t perfect, it was a start.

George squeezed your hand as you sat back down, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his presence, you knew he always would.

[fredbensonenthusiast]

The invention of Radclyffe Hall

Simon Goldhill, writing about the Benson family, makes a very interesting comparison between the trial of Oscar Wilde, and the obscenity 'trial' of Radclyffe Hall, author of 'The Well of Loneliness', and the publicity surrounding it, which, he feels, created certain stereotypes of men and women who were same-sex attracted.

Secondly, Radclyffe Hall’s own photographic portrait, which circulated very widely at this time, emphasized the masculinity of her appearance and dress—with short-cropped hair and male clothes....... The contrast between the bustles, dresses, and elaborate coiffure of the late Victorian and Edwardian period and the trousers, flat lines, and short hair of the roaring twenties resulted in a mass of journalistic flummery—cartoons, editorial comment, shocking photographs, amused articles—about the new New Woman and the confusion of masculine and feminine in dress and behavior. Radclyffe Hall’s clothes and demeanor were in a line with such fashions but also became a defining characteristic of the “masculine woman” as the paradigm of sexual inversion. Much as Oscar Wilde’s trial helped fix a stereotype of the homosexual, so Radclyffe Hall was instrumental in the establishment of the image of the lesbian as a masculine woman, short-haired, dressed in male clothes, adopting a male demeanor, even wearing a monocle and smoking a cigarette.

Goldhill, Simon. A Very Queer Family Indeed: Sex, Religion, and the Bensons in Victorian Britain, 2016

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

i just saw a wolfstar fan art and dead ass thought "wow ive never seen fred and sirius be shipped together before, thats so cool :3" whats this flavour of brainrot called

[f-o-and-selfship-club]

[theslowpath]

I love. Freaky fred. So much