#as ginny put it

[sawthefaeriequeen]

I'm pretty sure "thrashing about like an eel" is not a sign of a dissatisfied partner, lol.

Ron bashing fics out here talmbout how Ron can't please his partner when canonically there is only ONE MAN whose woman at the time COULD NOT keep her hands and mouth to herself

[1000sunnygo]

oh I need to read this 😩 (x)

[callmesel]

My favourite headcanon is Kid Percy been a revengeful kid and an absolutely menace to society but no one's seems to care because he is quiet and knows when to behaved when asked.

Like, he would put Bill's stuff in the chicken coop whenever he was mad at him and blame the twins for doing so.

Or make everybody think that Fred is George and George is Fred in purpose knowing damn well that he is the few that knows who is who 100% of the time. The twins were kind of pissed after being confused for a whole week without them wanting to and Percy's shitty grin doesn't help.

Or "borrowing" Charlie's precious dragon books and reading them in dangerous places like, too near the fireplace, outside when the garden is muddy and the twins are nearby, drinking oj with the book layed on the kitchen counter. Have Charlie 5 heart attacks but could take his book back because "he said he will let him read it" and "Percy is responsable enough and he should worry because it's just Percy reading".

Or "helping" mum to make Bill's fav dessert but put a bit too much fruit for Bill's liking (or something similar).

Honestly, anything involving dessert he is getting his tiny baby hands on it and intentionally fucking it up in a way that the only one suffering it's you.

He also "help" Fred and George clean there room and moving all their stuff in different places knowing damn well how they normally organize their stuff. The twins even got scolded for making a mess trying to re-do their room and Percy got an extra cookie because "the poor boy wanted to help and you destroyed everything he has done".

Oh! And he was super petty. He ate the last piece of pie in front of Ron knowing that Ron wanted that pie. But of course he didn't do it when Ron told him directly he wanted that pie but he will do it if he is really mad and heard it earlier.

He would do it to anyone except Ginny because that's his baby sister and he would never do such things to her. But he would definitely leave embarrassing pictures on her desk or whatever just for her to remember them, like the time she puked on the beach all over her just built sandcastle.

Anyway, kid Percy was a petty sassy and probably would tell you that you look like a newborn baby owl making you think he complemented you but actually was calling you ugly.

I love him very much.

[isogenderskitty]

people who’ve only seen hatchetfield: starkid has like practically no gay characters :/

the avp trilogy which has been sitting right there for probably most of their lives and is the foundation of everything:

plus these less explicit more headcanony (but like, BARELY) examples that i really think are worth mentioning as well, i have receipts don’t tempt me i will literally make an entire video about this stuff (and i might actually):

[remus-poopin]

What are your top HP fics based on writing? Like things that are just beautiful to read

Wow I think I’m answering this 3 months late sorry aghh. Again, I don’t read as many fics as I would like to, but I’ve been changing that recently and these are 4 that have really stood out to me in terms of writing!

Savour the Moment by - @evesaintyves

This fic made me both sad and hungry

This is a truly beautiful portrait of Molly and her relationship with Ginny. I really love how effortlessly this weaves in the food and cooking imagery with the emotions of the characters. The descriptions are so detailed and vivid that you can practically taste the cakes and pies off of the words alone.

Grief is hanging over this fic heavy, grief from Molly with her brothers and grief yet to come from Ginny. These two very different women, who also feel things very differently, have an extremely engaging back and forth of attempted connections. Both of them want it but aren’t able to easily get there with each other, and that struggle was very compelling to me.

Really such a great fic, I always find myself coming back to it

Favorite quotes:

“Molly has always tasted her memories. Perhaps that's why she's always been a bit thick round the middle: food relishes the good times, is the physical stuff of love. Ever since she was a little girl: plum pudding was Christmas and summers were cherry ice cream and chocolate flake. The time she broke her ankle jumping down from a tree, to this day, is the chalk flavor of Skele-Gro and a limp cucumber sandwich from the St Mungo's cafeteria. Her mother is sweet milky tea and her father is cottage pie with mushrooms, his favourite, flavoured with the smoke of his pipe in the air.”

“She learned to cook at her own mother's elbow and she is full of warm, creamy, ginger-flavoured memories of it. But Ginny's never liked being in the kitchen with her mum. She wants to be out with the boys, flying on broomsticks, getting jostled and scraped and braying coarse laughter through a mouthful of blood. That's why, when she thinks about Ginny, it's not the cream tea and swiss roll flavours she expected when she learned she was finally having a girl. It's rain-drenched popcorn at the Quidditch match and the salt of a kiss on Ginny's sweaty, gritty forehead.”

Sparkling Cyanide - @saintsenara

The house elf plot-line in the hp books leaves MUCH to be desired when it comes to fully and unequivocally condemning slavery. Due to this, you might find that me and my black ass are, shockingly, not its biggest fans.

However this fic is a brilliant look into elves’ oppression and enslavement AND their culture and agency.

This fic focuses on the death of Hepzibah Smith and the conditions surrounding and leading up to it. Specifically the subjugation of Elves and how that system encourages the idea of them as docile, unintelligent, and submissive (And how this perception can be wielded against the wizards that enslave them).

What I find so striking about this fic is how language is centered as a tool to illustrate the functions of colonial mindsets. I think this does a fantastic job at subverting the trope of “improper English = stupidity” that HP uses so frequently.

This was an extremely satisfying and moving read!

Favorite quotes:

“Come quickly and stop faffing,’ Mes Ebhsebbá says to Eokhí. She is clicking her fingers at Eokhí, like there is magic in her fingers. There is magic in Eokhí’s fingers. She is able to make the whole house fall to the ground if she is wanting to.”

“They is not knowing that we is knowing how to take the lives we is wanting from them. And that is why they is not thinking about how many weapons they is putting in kitchens.”

The Seven names of Mrs Zabini - @artemisia-black

And if I said that she did nothing wrong then what?

I’ve mentioned this fic several times before but I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. The way this is written is actually masterful; the attention to details, the poetic language, the characterization. I’m going to scream.

There is just something about this fic that entrances me. This is actually my favorite genre of story, the “good for her!” category, and whenever I read/watch these I go temporarily insane.

Because this is in first person we’re really getting into Mrs. Zabini’s mindset and the traumas that inform it, and this is extremely effective/convincing in making you stay on her side even while she is committing cold blooded murder.

Another thing I love about this is how the actual murders are so casually placed in the story, in comparison with how rich the rest of the imagery that Mrs. Zabini is describing. It’s almost like an afterthought. It makes her sound so much colder and more calculating than if there was a long depiction of each individual killing, so I thought that was a really brilliant writing choice.

If you love Gone Girl definitely give this a read!

Favorite quotes:

“There is a reason that Venus herself emerges from her half shell as a fully formed woman, blinking naively into existence. This is what men actually desire, a goddess who knows nothing of the world and so is more easily amused by the trinkets he throws at her. A divine being who is blissfully unaware of her own divinity. A being who had no thought but him and who cannot function outside of him.”

“I had gone to my wedding bed expecting a transformative experience where his penis would alchemise me from a girl into a woman. An expectation I had imbibed from a society that exalts the wonder of the male member. Instead, as I lay there shivering with his rotten seed running down my leg, I felt used and disgusted at the man I had been condemned to spend the rest of my life servicing”

“And as I rattled around our isolated country house, I believed him. Hiding myself from mirrors, starving my body in order to obtain the concave stomach and taut thighs that he so desired. But when I corrected one perceived flaw, he would find another. Peppering his insults with crumbs of tenderness that lured and trapped me in reality of his making.”

The Secret in the Heart of the Forest by @myrskytuuli

This one has it all: accidental cannibalism, ancient rituals, Snape sass, feral Lily, elf politics, generational trauma, fairy induced psychosis, and most importantly the Marauders + Sev and Lily + Regulus and Narcissa all teamed up. Oh yeah I’m eating this up

This one is longer than the others so I’m really going to try to make this as brief as I can but this fic is actually insane because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a hp fic and I think I could talk about it forever.

I was genuinely so giddy reading this. There were so many twists and turns and it remained gripping the whole time. This is a psychedelic fever dream, introspective character study, horror adventure and a beautiful tale of friendship all wrapped in one. I absolutely loved everyone’s characterization here, they’re all so beautifully flawed and you can really understand where they are coming from on a personal level but also on a sociological level, I think the author did a MASTERFUL job at this.

The worldbuilding is INSANELY good (the interlude chapters revolving around each of their mothers made me cry repeatedly. And Elieens chapter is just incredible, I have no words). And the pacing is just excellent, I never felt like any of the growth was forced or unearned.

This storytelling is also amazing, whenever there was a theme or reference brought up before in the story that got tied back in again, my mouth would physically drop because it was so seamless yet so meaningful and impactful.

(Sorry but I just need to talk about characterization for a brief minute because this has some of my favorite characterizations that I’ve ever read of some of these characters:

This is my absolute favorite Lily. Like ever. She feels so real here with her anger and flaws and quirks. She is neither villainized nor deified but a full fleshed out character. I just love her!

This is also my favorite James! James is usually a tough character for me to stay engaged with but this fic does an excellent job at balancing his strengths and flaws while keeping him compelling.

This Snape is PERFECT!!! I actually don’t think I can describe how much I love this depiction, all I can say is if you’re a Snape lover who enjoys him being a lil shit you should read this.

Also Peter is just incredible here, too often is he forgotten but this fic really does him justice.

Ok I’ll stop but just know that I could go on and on about all of these characters)

And seeing these characters who would normally hate each other come together to build meaningful bonds while they grow with their own issues is actually cathartic.

If you are a Marauder and Snape fan this is required reading, I really can’t recommend this enough!

Favorite quotes (there were way too many omg):

“Sirius had been angry for a long time now. Sometimes Sirius wondered if he had been born angry, if his first cry had never truly ended”

“Remus had said nothing after that. He was becoming a champion of saying nothing.”

“‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I won’t forgive what you did to me.’ Severus said back with conviction.

‘Good.’ Sirius said with equal conviction.”

“At this point, Lily had arrived like the loyal shadow she tended to be around Snape, spitting out an angry ‘What the fuck?’”

“Sometimes he burned with the need to yank himself free of Lily and the blade of love hanging between them. To hurt her when she stepped over Severus' abused body like an avenging angel that looked down at him and made him look small, dirty, used and worthless. A worm crawling in the mud.”

Ok that’s all for now! I definitely think you should give all these a read!!

[littlefankingdom]

~ A Night in the Life of a Bat in Gotham

This is such a cute short story! The bat following Batman around, copying him, and being a detective with him! Bruce caring about stopping animal abuse and trafficking! Bruce saying that the bats of Gotham aren't his pets, they are their family! And he knows each one of them! I didn't know I needed Bruce gently holding a bat and calling it "my hero" until now, it's fucking adorable!

And the whole thing is a metaphor about the Batfam! About how they cannot be kept in captivity, how their falily is important and they need it, but each of them comes and goes as they wish and they respect it, and each have their own story to tell.

[alwayshinny]

Hinny ♥️ - The Chronicles of Harry J. Potter's mind

She's Ron's little sister 😡

She's Ron's sister.😠

She's Ron's... 🫤

She's... 😵‍💫

She's so beautiful. 😍

Shit, she's looking my way. WAIT. DID SHE JUST WINK AT ME? 😳

Stop staring. Look somewhere else. Fuck, I think Dean noticed... Awkward... 😬

Okay, try to act cool. Stand against the wall, cross you arms, and look nonchalant, like you don't care. 😎

*stubbles with hand placement and footing* 🫨

Ginny: "Hi Harry"

tries to cover his dopey smile but ends up swooning instead. 🥴

[rewritingcanon]

coming out as an official HATER of this video

[tiefkuhltruhe]

forbidden football au thats been pestering in my brain for a decade

[romionarry]

what in the bisexual repression is this…….

[iheartmysun]

halloween at hogwarts moodboard 🍂

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Autumn was arguably the best season to experience at Hogwarts, alongside winter. The fallen auburn leaves which would crunch with each step, the festivities, the food- Merlin the food. Nothing spoke 'Halloween' quite like the grand feasts perfectly laid out before you; with rich roasts and decadent deserts stretching far across each table. And not to mention the decorations! Each pumpkin carved with careful precision, paper cutouts jumping out when least expected, and even the shadows seemed to partake in purposefully scaring your peers. It was a sight to behold. You felt bad for muggles when you thought about it; how, besides the literal, they'd never be so lucky as to live in such a magical place. Even some other magical folk would never be so fortunate. But you are. And you're determined to enjoy your last few years at Hogwarts while you can.

[whinlatter]

I need to know how you think Ginny or Hp characters in general reacted to the death of Princess Diana. She died right before Ginny left for Hogwarts her 6th year. I know wizards aren’t into muggle culture but Lady Di transcends cultural barriers. Plus that trio looking for the queens purse advert is definitely canon.

i did not expect this ask, and i regret to inform you my response to it was to write the following incredibly stupid ficlet about ginny and the death of princess diana. don't ask me why i did this because i don't know!

The last day of August 1997, she comes downstairs in her dressing gown and finds Kingsley in the kitchen with a Muggle newspaper that says that Princess Diana is dead. ‘Car crash,’ he says, pushes the paper across the table. No-one’s shared news of any sort with her in weeks - the only child and non-Order member of the house, at best an irrelevance and at worse a nuisance for the crumbling wartime resistance - so she forgets about the kettle she's just boiled and sits down, snatches up the paper, reads hungrily. High speed car chase, it says, Diana and her boyfriend, in a tunnel in Paris, being chased down by paparazzi. ‘I met her once,’ says Kingsley, musingly, sipping his tea.

She looks up. ‘Really?’

‘Mmm. With the Muggle PM.’

‘What was she like?’

Kingsley thinks about it. ‘Funny,’ he says. ‘But sad.’ 

She hangs on to the paper. When she’s inevitably ousted from the kitchen by the arrival of yet more Order folk with important business and no trace of interest in her, she takes it up to her room, clears a space on the floor between the maps of the castle she's been memorising and her now dog-eared copy of The Dark Arts Outsmarted and flattens it out on the floor. The Muggle pictures of the princess, of course, don’t move. Yet Diana manages to always be in motion in the photographs, full of life, running and dancing and gallivanting, long legs stretching across roads or dangling off the end of great boats, her speeding across ocean waves on what looks like a water motorbike or down steep snowy slopes on bits of wood with poles in her hands. She's forced to hoist Crookshanks up and out of the way when he tries to paw his way across the pull-out spread of Diana in her wedding dress. 'You used to live with Muggles sometimes, didn't you?’ she demands of a squirming Crookshanks. ‘Show a bit of respect.'

She’d known about the princess before, of course. Hard to avoid her, even among wizards. The Muggleborn girls had started it, tacking up endless pictures of her many outfits on their walls. Their better-blooded peers had followed, and she’d thought even the Slytherins would be unable to deny there was a magic, a magnetism, to Diana, in  fabulous dresses one day and the coolest of boyish suits the next, all draped off of her long, lean frame with an effortless elegance that most of the awkward adolescent girls of the castle could only dream of. There was a time, in the run-up to the Yule Ball, when you couldn’t move for pictures of that dress. ‘It’s her revenge dress,’ Lavender had informed her matter-of-factly at dinner, ‘because her husband cheated on her with a married woman he’d been in love with years before.’ An off-the-shoulder slinky black number with the chunky pearl necklace, the dress had been the envy of every witch in the castle. ‘I’d definitely pull Diggory if I had that dress,’ a sixth-year girl had  lamented to her mates over the sinks in the fifth-floor girls’ bathroom the next day.

That evening, her own dress from her mother had arrived. She’d sent for it, when Neville had asked her to the ball, bestowing upon her the dubious honour of being the second most pitying girl in all of Gryffindor. It’s an old one of Molly’s from the sixties. She’d always admired it on her mum in old photographs taken before she was hers, worn on nights out and parties from a past life that her mother only hints at, with a twinkle in her eye and a firmly zipped lip. Now, though, the dress looked all wrong - too chaste, too floral, not an ounce of sex appeal about it, throughly unmemorable and unlikely to catch a single eye, fresh-pickled toad-green or otherwise.

(In her bunk that night, she'd lain awake and taunted herself with cruel, self-flagellating fantasy. Imagined striding past the Boy Who Lived wearing that dress, the revenge one, making him regret he’d ever asked Cho Chang to the ball, making him forget all about her shiny hair and her pretty smile and her cool friends and her easy grace, making him notice someone else instead - his best mate’s feral little sister who is funny, actually, just not when he’s around, and whom he last seemed to have thought about when he’d hauled her off her own deathbed, and never since.)

As adolescence wore on, though, she’d soured on Diana. Too chic to be likeable, rich girl with a life of frocks and endless frolicking, intolerably poised and swan-like. The sight of her glimpsed on Muggle newsstand in the village stirred up the same feelings of eye-roll envy as her sister-in-law, which always boded ill. Looking at her now, though, she wonders if there wasn’t something she’d missed, something else to her. Diana’s set jaw looks more guarded than she remembered. The wide eyes ringed by thick smudgy black she’d once thought coquettish now look lost, full of reproach.

Dean’s mum, she remembers now, had loved her. ‘She won’t hear a bad word about her,’ he’d said, rolling his eyes. ‘Says she was the best thing that ever happened to that family.’ Ever her father’s daughter, she’d pestered him with endless questions, like she did all things Muggle: about the divorce, about the royals and succession and the Muggle press and the high drama of it all, until he’d got bored and suggested they go find a broom cupboard, get down to more serious business. Wonders how Dean’s mum must be feeling today. But then she remembers her son is, for all intents and purposes, Muggleborn in a new regime that wants him dead, and suddenly feels slightly sick. She puts the paper away, then, and gets back on with packing up her war room for the morning’s train journey out to the front.

Diana’s sons, the paper said, survive her. They’re called William, and Harry. Good names, in her book. She can't help but think of them as she packs, the boys - children, who woke up one morning to find themselves motherless.

‘It’s mayhem in London,’ says her father, that night, over dinner. ‘There’s hundreds of people outside the palace, leaving flowers and things. I’ve never seen anything like it. There'll be a big public funeral - all the royal family will have to be there, including the boys. They'll have no choice. The Muggles are heartbroken. I dread to think what would happen if there was an attack during that - Kingsley, we ought to talk more about that, actually...'

'Those poor children,' her mother whispers, though that’s nothing new, these days — she whispers that every night.

'Are they still in London?' she asks her dad, quietly, over the washing up. 'At Grimmauld? Have you heard anything?'

'No news, dear. I'd tell you if I knew.'

Lying awake that night with her trunk packed, she wonders if this has all passed them by - her brother and almost-sister and the boy who lived she knows she’s supposed to forget. She imagines them sat the table in that grungy basement kitchen, newspaper spread in front of them. Perhaps they, too, have been poring over Diana's finest outfits, in memoriam. Probably not, though — not with a murder to plot, a Dark Lord to kill, a Tom to hunt. Three child soldiers with a war to win.

Still, the thoughts persist as she tries to fall asleep. Thinks about being hunted, boys without mothers, a city full of mourners. Muggles with their tears and their flowers and their prams at the palace gates. It’s like it's the end of something, something fun and frivolous, dress-up and glamour and girlhood. One day, you're thirteen and looking at princesses in party dresses in the newspaper — and the next, you're sixteen, and the newspapers tell you that the parties are over and the princesses are dead. Something about the tragedy of the thing. The pointlessness, the waste.

artwork: diana and her nymphs hunting by paul de vos (1636)

[graceofgondor]

okay once again i can't put a video on a reblog so just for reference:

THE WAY SHES VISIBLY BLUSHING IN THE FIRST CLIP OKAY GIRL WE SEE YOU-

[nostalgicninjas]

EVERY SAM AND TORY SCENE/MENTION (38/?) 

“Kicks Get Chicks” — Cobra Kai Season 4 Episode 6 

[nxrcissamxlfoy]

i need someone familiar with both harry potter and vampire the masquerade bc i have an au in my head and I’m dying to yap about it

[hosseinis]

can someone PLEASE let aaron hotchner take a nap. like a sixteen hour nap. and also ban him from the office for a few days.