#Today In Ginny!

[somewhere-at-the-burrow]

── 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

birds chirping through the dutch door, fresh bread and porridge, listening to the witching hour on the morning radio, taking the car down the field roads, tending to quidditch brooms in the garden, reading the seeker weekly, socks on the wooden floor

[startanewdream]

Rewatched the HBP movie last night and, Sweet Lord, they've butchered my fave book.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

The most absurd thing about how this fandom treats Ginny Weasley is that she is hated for being the female love interest with the classic personality of the male love interest everybody drools over:

extremely conventionally good-looking

popular

everybody wants to date her, she only wants Harry

sometimes adorably awkward in showing her feelings for Harry

really funny

has other love interests to try and get over Harry who doesn't want her, she fails miserably

can be mean but you know she has a heart of gold

generally emotionally unavailable unless you are called Harry Potter

extremely protective of Harry

even jealous in specific circumstances but never in a toxic way

super dark backstory

conflicting relationship with her family (specifically one of her parents)

powerful

great athlete

needs to hide her true passion from her family for years because they don't support her

if you actually get to know her she is a dork

extremely gentle and caring under the tough exterior

The only thing she is missing is being rich.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Hello everyone! I need some advice for the Drarry fanfic I’m writing!

Check the reblogs for a few more polls!

Also: I won’t necessarily do as the results of the polls say. But I will keep them in mind!

[katierosefun]

negan and maggie’s relationship is so. so fuckign fascinating to me. like. like…imagine teaming up with someone (repeatedly) who killed the love of your life and was also either directly or indirectly responsible for the death of your friends. imagine wanting nothing more than wanting to kill this person and feeling bitter and angry because your friends refuse to kill this person. you are so anguished over it that you leave with your son (whose father was murdered by this person), and then you come back, and all your friends seem to begrudgingly trust (or at least coexist) with this awful person. and this person is now trying to help you. he saves your life multiple times and also saves your son, the last living reminder of your murdered love. this person is asking to become the monster so you don’t have to. this person tells you that you need to come back. this person understands that you would kill him, and he might even let you. he lets you do the closest thing to killing him instead—he lets you turn him in, knife to his throat, and you’re leaving him, and your son won’t talk to you, and you come to the sudden realization that perhaps you need to go back for this monster. what the hell kind of dynamic is this

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

When Harry Potter was born, he knew nothing of prophecies or horcruxes. The name Tom Riddle meant absolutely nothing to him. He knew of a woman with long, copper hair and green eyes and a tall man with messy, black hair. He knew of three pairs of hands that were the hands of his uncles. He knew what snuggles were and he knew what it felt like to have a body with only one soul. 

When Harry Potter celebrated his first Halloween, he knew nothing of trolls in the dungeons or Death Day Parties. He knew nothing of petrified cats and words written in blood by a girl who has no control over her own body. Goblets of Fire meant nothing to him at this time and what the consequences could be if his name were to ever come out of one. Instead, he only knew of the orange costume his mum put him in that made him look like a pumpkin, and the painted face of his dad that made him look like a skeleton.

When Harry Potter celebrated his first Christmas, he knew nothing of coal in stockings and shoelaces as presents. He didn’t know what it felt like to watch his cousin open up his 25th present while he cooked Holiday brunch in the kitchen. He didn’t know what a belt was or how it could be used as a punishment if the bacon came out a little too crispy for his uncle’s liking. He only knew of stockings filled with toys, and 25 kisses from each one of his parents. He only knew of his mum’s (off key) singing of muggle Christmas carols as she helped his dad cook Christmas brunch. 

When Harry Potter played with the big black dog, he knew nothing of the grim. He did not know the scared feeling of being chased by bulldogs owned by his uncle’s sister. He knew nothing of magical prisons and unjust criminal systems nor was he aware of The Ministry of Magic and the secrets that lie within its walls. He didn’t know how thin the dog could become after being starved for 12 years. He knew only of piggyback rides and wet, slobbery kisses. 

When Harry Potter celebrated his first birthday, he knew nothing of letters addressed to a boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He was not friendly with spiders and their cobwebs littering his bedroom. He did not know about drawing birthday cakes in the dirt with eleven candles on them. He only knew of toddler sized broomsticks that he could chase the family cat around the living room with. He knew of a big cake baked by “Ma” that ended more on the floor and his face than it did his own mouth. 

When Harry Potter woke up on his second Halloween, he knew nothing of death. The name Tom Riddle still meant nothing to him, and he did not know that green flashing lights were a sign of evil. He did not know how devastating a betrayal from a best friend could be. Most importantly, he did not know the sound of his own mother’s screams. Instead he only knew the bright colors his dad would shine above his crib as his mum told him a bedtime story. He only knew “Pea” as a surrogate uncle, just like “Serus” and “Reem.” Most importantly, he only knew the sound of his mother’s laugh.

When Harry Potter was left on the doorstep of his aunt and uncle’s house, he knew nothing of abuse. He knew nothing of his cousin’s fists or the silly, little game called “Harry Hunting.” He knew nothing of negligent teachers who ignored the obvious signs of mistreatment. Instead he only knew the stars that twinkled like the bearded man’s eyes and the flying motorcycle in the night sky. He only knew the faint cheers from wizards and witches all across Great Britain celebrating the death of the man he now shared a soul with.

He knew nothing yet of what was to come.

[starlingflight]

The parchment stuck to Harry's face, coming with him as he sat up. It was his second time in less than twenty-four hours waking up with a cramp in his neck from an awkward sleeping position. 

This time, he didn't waste a moment trying to soothe the ache. He hardly took a second to remove the piece of parchment from his cheek, before he was pulling a fresh piece towards him and dipping his quill in the ink pot that still stood open on the edge of his desk. 

The Auror office was silent outside the walls of Harry's cubicle; Magical Maintenance had changed the windows to reflect the dark and starry sky that could doubtless be seen miles above. His quill scratched loudly in the stillness. 

1. Ginny is my wife.

Just writing the sentence made his hand shake with longing. 

2. Ginny is a professional Quidditch player.

He'd always loved to watch her fly. 

3. Threatening note with Rowle family crest.

His hand shook again. 

He cast his mind back to the dream, trying to recall anything else that might be important; intent on writing it down before he could forget. 

It was impossible. It all seemed vitally important; the way Ginny had smiled at him, the way she'd kissed him, how overwhelmingly happy he'd been. His heart hammered just thinking about it. 

He stared at the parchment. Re-reading his own words as though they'd been written by someone else. 

It was lunacy; he'd finally cracked. He had the sudden mad urge to seize the parchment and tear it into tiny pieces. It was just a dream. 

Just a dream. 

And he was losing his head over it because how could he not? How could he not want to believe he was in some bizarre scenario where he had not lost Ginny years ago? Even if the mechanics of such a situation were so unlikely as to be bordering on impossible. 

‘Anything's possible.’

Ginny's voice sang through his mind, echoing across years like she'd only said it yesterday. 

Read the rest of chapter five here.

Read from chapter one here.

[bismuthburnsblue]

Sheriff Ginny vest... complete! (...for now)

this was made from a pair of jeans & the off cuts from shortening the skirt for this costume! i really love how it came out, its fun and cute, and i enjoyed considering how to be as efficient as possible with my fabric

the waves on the front are done with applique- its my first time doing it in many years so i might have to touch up some areas, but i like the rustic look where its slightly uneven and fraying, it fits the vibe.

because i was working with off cuts, my binding is heavily pieced- each section is only around 19cm- theres 12 round the outside and 3 more for each armhole! i paired the worn ends of denim with each other, & the same with the cut edge, so the piecing blended better & looked intentional.

i did end up removing the embroidery i did on the back panel, i just wasnt quite vibing with it for this piece- the stitch was a little messy in places & it didnt quite fit with where i set my hem line to (though id decided to remove it by that point anyway) i think i will go back in and add something on there eventually, but thats going to be a more long term project i think

(↓ a closer look at the details! ↓)

[t1oui]

something i need more in my life is just a bunch of people in harry's year are all best friends. like

i'm trying to come up with headcanons but i can't get past "harry, hermione, ron, ginny, luna, blaise, draco, padma, parvati, lavender, pansy, dean, and seamus going on holiday together" so do with that what you will ig

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Chapter 23: The Ticket Sale Stall

When Ginny arrived for training on Friday morning, Gwenog walked up to her looking extremely put out.

“You are expected in the Phenton stadium in ten minutes with Harry and no training the rest of the day,” Gwenog told her.

She froze on the spot. “What?”

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.” Gwenog's read murder, but it wasn't directed towards Ginny. “We’re two weeks off the League Cup!” She shook her head, looking like she was ready to stab someone. “I got instructions from management, and they wouldn’t let me get a word in. They haven’t heard the last of this, you can count on that.”

Ginny nodded. “Do you think it’s about the ticket sales?”

“Possibly,” Gwenog admitted. “They are desperate to sell those tickets at the current price. As if they haven’t made enough money off of you.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ginny said. “That’s not very promising, I can’t imagine what they’ve concocted for us now….”

Gwenog patted her shoulder. “I know. Now go on, I won’t have you be late on my account.”

Full chapter: AO3/FFN

Complaints to management (me) go here.

[daily-lego-sets]

LEGO Harry Potter:

Attack on the Burrow

Set: 75980

2020

Pieces:1047

[hinny-canons]

@hinnymicrofic prompt 23: Bird

Birds flew around the sky in groups as the sun shines down on Hogwarts. The bright sun did nothing to brighten Ginny’s mood.

She sat on the grass against their tree, near the lake where they spent all their time. No matter how much she felt like crying, she held herself together because anyone could see her right now.

She had been through break ups before, but this one hurt too much. Probably because if there wasn’t a war, they never would’ve broken up. They didn’t willingly leave each other.

She looked down at her hands. It was like the sun was mocking her, being all shiny.

The tears came in, stronger than ever. She couldn’t hold it together.

All she wanted right now was Harry. Nothing else. She wanted to feel his touch, his kiss, hear his words, his laugh, and see his smile. She selfishly wanted him back.

But the logical side of her knew he had to go for the sake of everyone. Her heart, however, was crying for him and only him.

[liiilyevans]

Singer/Band AU

The Chosen One, talented songwriter and elusive lyric icon, is making a come back. With cryptic notes on his Instragram signaling his return to the music industry, his fans are almost as desperate to find out who inspired his return as they are to figure out who exactly is behind the eye in the key hole. Ginny Weasley is an up and coming indie folk singer. A haunting voice as well as emotion invoking lyrics pull in fans from miles. All eyes are on this redheaded beauty as she makes her start in the music industry.

Peep under the cut for a surprise.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Prompt 10, May: flower

@hinnymicrofic

.

They lay on the grass, the Hogwarts lake in front of them, the chatter of their schoolmates a background sound.

"Favourite flower?" Ginny asked, continuing with her project of posing random short questions.

A cauldron in a dungeon came to mind. "I don't have one,"

She rolled towards him so that her face towered over his, he could have stared at her forever, still incredulous that she was his girlfriend. "Who doesn't have a favourite flower?"

"Er, every guy I've ever met, probably,"

Her expression suddenly displayed a mock haughtiness. "I bet Neville has one,"

"Is this your way of telling me you are leaving me for Neville?" asked Harry, bringing a strand of her magnificent red hair behind her ear.

She smirked, "I'm glad we are finally on the same page," She tapped his nose. His heart skipped a bit. "Come on, choose a flower,"

Smiling, he finally gave in. "Your shampoo," A curious look appeared on her face, "What flower is that?"

"Honeysuckle,"

Finally, he had solved that mystery. "Then, honeysuckle,"

"Do you even know what it looks like?"

"Doesn't matter,"

Ginny laughed, a sound Harry always rejoiced in. He didn't remember ever being so happy as he had been in the last three days.

"Are you not going to ask me what's mine?" Her brown eyes danced with amusement.

It was his turn to smirk, "I already know it,"

"No, you don't,"

"Yes, I do." In one swift movement, Harry rolled them over so that he was now half on top of her. "Daffodils," he murmured grazing her ear with his lips.

"They--" Her breath faltered, "They mean rebirth,"

"I know."

She didn't question him again. Actually, Ginny's questions stopped for a while, her lips too busy with other very pleasant activities.

[ratabrasileira]

It’s been some time since I wanted to paint Ginny breastfeeding her firstborn. I think that feeding her children is a duty that Ginny would take seriously; she would just step aside from family of whatever she was doing to have this special moment with the babies. Sometimes Harry would join her to sing a lullaby or just to talk about anything.

[riickgrimes]

#can u say artistic soulmates