#lee!harry

[bookishtickles]

Hey! I love your Harry Potter fics! I was wondering if you could do a longer one where Sirius decides he wants to test Harry's ticklishness (even though he already knows he is incredibly ticklish). Chaos ensues. If not thats okay to. Thanks!

Hey sooo I know you sent this 3 years ago and I don’t know if you still want this or even remember it, but I’m active again and going through my prompts, and you’re the first one I’m doing!

Also, breaking canon

—

Sirius went up to where Harry’s room was in Grimmauld Place. The 13 year old had just moved in, and he knew Harry would be waking up right about now. He wondered if Harry remembered any of the night before: when Sirius, teasing him, poked him in the belly and heard Harry squeak and claim he’s not ticklish, he was just scared

Little does Harry know, Sirius already knows how ticklish Harry is: he tickled Harry when Harry was just a baby, and remembers how much the baby laughed when Sirius blew on his belly or tickled his ribs

Luckily Harry was already awake, looking at one of his books: Quidditch Through the Ages. When Sirius walked in, Harry grinned brightly

“How was sleeping in your new bed?” Sirius asks, sitting on the bed next to the small boy. Harry said it was good, and then Sirius continued, “By the way, you know I have to test out what I learned last night, right? And see where you’re ticklish and how much.”

Harry’s green eyes widened in an almost comical way. He stammers, “I-I’m not- d-don’t—!”

“If you’re not then you have nothing to worry about!” Sirius says mischievously as he grabs Harry’s foot and scribbles over Harry’s heel and sole

Immediately, Harry’s giggling loudly, wriggling around, trying to free his foot. “Sihihihirius!”

“I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?” Sirius smirked, tickling with more ferocity and Harry’s laugh went up a notch, but not as much as when Sirius went to the toes. Harry yelped, toes curling

“WAHAHAHAIT!”

“For what?” Sirius smirked, eyes gleaming evilly from the poor boy’s sensitivity. He dragged Harry closer to where he was sitting, raking Harry’s pajama top up to his ribs, exposing his belly. But Sirius didn’t immediately jump to his feast on Harry’s tummy, he had other spots to try before digging into his dessert. Sirius instead went to Harry’s knees, spidering them into Harry’s knobbly knees, sitting himself on Harry’s legs

Harry covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laugh, embarrassed and cheeks burning red at this situation. He shook his head no while he squeaked and giggled, but he was so touch starved for so long he didn’t mind this actually. Sirius also noticed Harry took no bother to pull his shirt down and protect his tummy…

Sirius moved up, now sitting on Harry’s waist, fingers lightly moving up Harry’s sides, “You know, I’m starting to get a little hungry.” Sirius said in a low, dangerous growl

Harry’s stomach dropped as his heart simultaneously jumped. He was all too familiar with the “I’m hungry” act from Fred and George

“A-are you?”

“But before I go eat-“ Sirius says and then spiders in Harry’s neck. This was unexpected: Harry’s shoulders scrunch up and so do his hands, trying to push Sirius’ hands away

“AGHAHAHAHA- NAHAHAHA!” Harry laughs loudly, trying to twist away

“And where do you think you’re going?” Sirius chuckles, kneading into Harry’s belly

This got him the best. Harry squeals in laughter, glasses falling down crooked, and now he’s really trying to wriggle away. “EEEEHEHEHEHE!”

“Now, what do we have here?” Sirius growls evilly like he’s only just noticed Harry’s belly as he grabs Harry’s wrists, pinning them down by Harry’s head. “I think this will do for my meal!” He says as he slowly leans down to Harry’s tummy

Harry could feel his heart racing and his belly tremble at the incoming attack, but also secretly excited and even happy that Sirius is making sure he won’t be able to wriggle away, nor push his head away or even try to cover his tummy because with Fred and George, it’s fun, but his instincts to wriggle away take over. But now that won’t matter

“Oh nohohoho,” Harry couldn’t help but squeak out at Sirius

“Oh yes,” Sirius says dangerously and darkly, leaning down to Harry’s belly, and blew

Harry immediately squealed, wrists futilely pulling at Sirius’ hands, and legs kicking but all he could do is throw his head back and squeal in his laughter. Sirius smirks, then leans down and blew again, his sharp, rough beard makes this tickle so much more than when Fred or George does it. Harry pleads, “NOHOHOHO MOOOORE!”

“Alright alright,” Sirius lets him up, but not without chuckling, “I know all your spots now. And I think your tummy may be my breakfast every morning from now on.”

[jeffreymeowmont]

i am assembling a team...

[televisiongifs]

Twin Peaks 2.07 "Lonely Souls" (1990) dir. David Lynch

[shegoesbyjoy]

this but with kim and communist harry

[mssorceressupreme]

Wanna Be Yours | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: helping a younger student resulted in you and the first-year walking into a prank not meant for you, and as you do so, you catch Fred's attention. the next day he tries to apologise with another prank and it backfires, but this only resulted in him falling even harder for you, he just knew wanted to be yours.

Warnings/tags: hufflepuff!reader (well it suits anyone really :D), love at first sight, he fell first and HARD, fred needs you so bad, pranks gone wrong, teasing, fluffy and cute, fred's a simp a/n: inspired by "Wanna be Yours by Arctic Monkeys"

———

The courtyard was alive with the soft hum of spring—branches swaying in the breeze, birds chirping from the castle walls, and a few students milling about on the cobblestones. Fred crouched behind a large stone pillar, his mischievous grin matching the one plastered across his twin’s face.

Huddled in a corner, the four of them—Fred, George, Lee and Oliver, were planning a revenge prank on Marcus Flint and Draco Malfoy for their obnoxious antics during the Quidditch match earlier.

“Are you sure about this?” Oliver Wood asked, trying to sound stern but failing as he bit back a chuckle.

Malfoy had spent most of the game taunting Harry, and Flint’s borderline dirty play had cost Gryffindor two near-goals. That didn’t sit well with Fred and George, so what better way to get back at them than with a prank.

“Hundred percent.” Fred said, smirking as he held up a pouch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. “Alright, we rig this near the tree. As soon as they walk by, poof! Total chaos. Then, George, you release the Dungbombs—”

“Already got ‘em primed,” George said, patting his pocket with a devilish grin.

“Don't forget the slime and feathers!” Lee added, holding up a jar of fluorescent green goop in one hand, and a bag of feathers in the other.

Oliver, who had reluctantly joined but couldn’t resist some payback, frowned. “Let’s make sure they’re the only ones who get caught in this mess though, yeah?”

“Relax Wood,” Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s a foolproof plan. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Trust us,” George said, “We’ve calculated everything.”

“Right,” Lee affirmed, “It's simple charm, a bit of instant darkness powder, and—bam! Feathers, slime, and a nice little puff of stink powder for good measure.”

George cackled, clapping his twin on the back. “Beautiful. They’ll be too busy cleaning slime and plucking feathers off their robes to bother us for weeks.”

“That's what they deserve for acting like twits during the match.” Lee chimed in. "S'pose they do deserve it." Oliver chuckled, his reluctance turning into enthusiasm.

The trap was simple but effective: a hidden tripwire enchanted to release darkness powder, then a rain of slime and feathers from above, followed by the dungbombs. All they had to do now was wait for their targets. "Now, they're supposed to walk pass here any moment..." Fred told the others, as the four of them watched eagerly.

Fred’s eyes glinted as he nodded toward the enchanted tripwire stretched across the cobblestones, ready to unleash chaos on Flint and Malfoy the moment they stepped on it.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't.

From behind a stone archway, you appeared with a small Ravenclaw first-year in tow.

It wasn’t Malfoy or Flint who walked into the courtyard first.

It was you.

You were laughing softly, your eyes crinkling with warmth as you guided a nervous-looking first-year Ravenclaw girl who clutched her books tightly to their chest. The poor kid had taken a wrong turn, and you volunteered to show her the way to the library.

In your arms, you helped carry some of her load, making it easier for the first-year.

“Don’t worry,” you were saying, your voice kind and steady. “The library isn’t far. Just through the next hall and up the staircase."

Fred’s eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. He didn’t hear anything else. It was like the world had narrowed to just you—the way your hair caught the sunlight, the easy grace in your step, and the way your smile seemed to light up the entire courtyard.

How had he not noticed you before?

“Is Fred broken?” George whispered to Lee.

“Looks like it. Never seen him go this quiet before,” Lee replied, smirking.

Oliver elbowed Fred, snapping him out of his trance. “Mate, you’re staring.”

“Shut up,” Fred muttered, his eyes never leaving you.

"Who is she?..." He continued, holding true to Oliver's statement.

“Who?” Lee asked, following his gaze. He snorted when he saw you. “Her? Oh no. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Fred.”

Fred didn’t respond. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you but he was quickly snapped out of his trance as you approached the tree.

Oh shit. "Not the tree, don't walk past the tree..." He muttered to himself, hoping you would somehow magically hear him.

It was no use. Disaster struck.

You were met with instant darkness, coughing slightly as the powder released a thick fog around you and the first year.

Before you could grasp the full situation, a torrent of green slime and feathers rained down from above, coating you and the first-year from head to toe. The Dungbombs exploded seconds later, filling the courtyard with an awful stench.

The first-year yelped, clutching her books as the slime dripped down her robes. You froze for a moment, stunned, before shaking your head with a soft laugh.

Fred winced, guilt twisting in his chest.

“Oops,” George muttered, though he didn’t sound all that sorry.

Lee burst out laughing, "Merlin, did we just traumatise a first year?!"

“Poor kid,” Oliver said, though his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

Fred, however, barely heard them. He was too busy watching you. Instead of panicking or getting angry, you crouched down immediately, brushing feathers off the first-year’s face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said gently, your voice soothing. “It’s just a bit of slime and feathers. Another tip, beware of silly pranks, it's all part and parcel of the Hogwarts culture." You comfort the kid, trying to lighten the situation by laughing softly, "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

The first-year nodded, her lower lip trembling, and you smiled, guiding her toward a nearby fountain.

Fred couldn’t stop staring. He didn't know who you were, but he did know this, he wanted to be yours.

You were covered in slime and feathers, an absolute mess, yet you still looked radiant.

There was something about the way you put the first-year first, your patience and kindness shining through, that made his heart thud in the best way.

You helped her cleaned as much as you could off her robes, murmuring reassurances the entire time before chanting, "Scourgify!", instantly her robes were as good as new.

Only after she was cleaned up did you finally turn your attention to yourself. With the help of the cleaning spell, the feathers were out of your hair and the slime off your sleeves in no time.

“Merlin! Fred, you’ve got it bad,” Lee said, smirking.

“Oh, leave him,” George teased. “He’s clearly in love.” Fred’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t care. For once, he was speechless.

“How come I’ve never noticed her before?” The red head murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He was certain he would’ve remembered someone like you. “Maybe because you’re too busy pranking people,” Oliver said dryly. "Who is she?" Fred asked, ignoring Oliver's remark. "Seen her around a couple of times, especially in the library, she's in Ron's year." Oliver hummed, watching as you conversed with the first-year.

“That explains it,” George quipped. “She’s too smart to bother with Fred’s idiocy.”

Fred scowled, but his gaze remained fixed on you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, and he felt like everyone had disappeared, you were the only one in sight, to him.

He knew he had to make this right. He needed an excuse to approach you. Right! An apology. And of course, he had to impress you.

The Ravenclaw girl finally gave a small laugh as you finished off explaining the pranking culture at Hogwarts. “Thank you, I-..I think I know my way to the library from here now.” she said softly before hurrying off. ___

The next day, Fred had a plan. A proper one.

Breakfast in the Great Hall hummed with the usual morning chaos: the clink of cutlery, the murmur of conversation, and the occasional bursts of laughter from each houses' table.

Fred stood at the entrance, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. In his hands, he clutched a bouquet of enchanted flowers—slime-free this time—that were charmed to sing a cheerful apology tune when presented.

He wiped his palm against his robes for what felt like the hundredth time. “This is foolproof,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“You say that every time,” George pointed out, his tone dripping with amusement. He nudged Lee, who was barely containing his laughter. “What do you reckon? Will he get through two words before tripping over himself?”

“Five Galleons says he’ll combust,” Lee said, grinning.

“Will you two shut it?” Fred snapped, though the tips of his ears turned red. “This is serious.”

“Serious,” George repeated, mocking Fred’s tone. “You’re holding a singing bouquet, mate. Nothing about this screams ‘serious.’”

“Just watch,” Fred said, his voice low but determined.

That’s when you walked in, and Fred’s stomach flipped.

You were laughing as you entered, your head tilted toward one of your friends. That laugh—light, carefree, and far too distracting—was etched into Fred’s memory, playing on a loop since the previous day.

The sunlight streaming through the tall windows hit you at just the right angle, illuminating your smile. You were radiant.

Fred’s heart thumped in his chest as he stepped forward, the bouquet held out like a peace offering. “Hey!” he called, catching your attention.

You turned to him, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Yes?” you said, the corners of your mouth quirking up into a curious smile. What did he want from you?

Fred grinned, his confidence teetering on the edge of unraveling. “Listen, about yesterday—”

But before he could finish, the bouquet let out a sudden pop. A puff of pink smoke erupted, followed by an earsplittingly off-key version of “I’m Sorry About The Slime” that echoed through the Great Hall.

Fred barely had time to react before the bouquet detonated in a second burst, showering him in glitter and knocking him flat on his back.

The Hall erupted into laughter.

Fred groaned, staring at the enchanted ceiling, which now looked even farther away than usual. He could hear George’s loud, obnoxious cackling somewhere to his left.

“Five Galleons,” Lee said smugly.

Fred grimaced, but before he could even begin to think about recovering, a familiar voice broke through the laughter.

“Guess I’m not the only casualty this time.”

Fred turned his head, blinking in disbelief. You had flopped down beside him, lying flat on your back on the floor as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Glitter sparkled in your hair, and your grin was wide and unapologetic.

“What are you doing?” Fred asked, his voice caught somewhere between bewilderment and awe.

“Making sure you’re not the only one who looks ridiculous,” you replied, shrugging as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s only fair.”

Fred let out a breathless laugh, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “You’re mental.” But he loved it.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, glancing at him with a teasing smile.

From across the Hall, George shouted, “Right on, Romeooo!!” His voice was exaggerated and dramatic, and Fred could practically feel the heat rising in his face.

“Oi shut it, George!” Fred yelled, though his tone lacked bite.

You laughed again, and Fred swore his heart might actually burst. “You’ve got quite the fan club,” you said, gesturing toward the group of students, particularly, Fred's 'boys', who were now openly watching the scene unfold and chortling.

“They’re a bunch of idiots,” Fred muttered, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You know,” you said thoughtfully, “for someone who’s usually so good at pranks, this was a spectacular disaster.”

Fred groaned, running a hand through his now glitter-covered hair. “Tell me about it.”

“But,” you added, your voice softening, “I appreciate the effort and the apology.”

Fred looked at you, his heart stuttering. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “And between you and me, I think you pull off the glitter look better than anyone else here.”

Fred laughed, the sound loud and genuine, and for a moment, the rest of the hall faded away. “I reckon you pull it off better than I do.”

“Why thank you, it's actually my dream to be covered in glitter. Shining as bright as a quidditch trophy is the goal." You joked, but Fred smiled warmly.

You do shine bright, he thought.

As you stood up, you reached out a hand to help him up. Fred took it without hesitation, warmth spreading through him at the simple gesture.

“Come on, glitter boy,” you said, your tone teasing but fond. “Let’s get you sitting somewhere before you injure yourself again.”

Fred let you lead him to a bench at the side of the hall, his hand still tingling from where yours had been.

As you both sat down, he turned to face you, his usual confidence returning in a slow, steady wave, “I’m Fred, by the way."

You laughed, tucking a strand of glitter-dusted hair behind your ear. “I know. You and George are kind of hard to miss.”

Fred’s grin widened, his chest fluttering at the sound of your laugh. “Yeah? Well, you’re kind of hard to forget...uh?" As if on cue, you told him your name. "Y/N." You smiled. "Y/N..." He repeated back, how fitting, a pretty name for a pretty girl.

Your eyes softened, and for a moment, you studied Fred's features. He did the same, glancing at your lips occasionally.

You'd always seen him from afar, to you he was just a prankster, a jokester, busy with his schemes, you'd never thought you'd actually come face to face with him.

But now that you did, you saw him in a different light, almost.

“If this is how you usually apologise,” you said, your voice light again, “I’m scared to see what happens when you’re not sorry.”

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “Stick around, and I’ll show you.”

You leaned back slightly, your smile lingering. “I just might.”

And in that moment, Fred knew—he didn’t just want to impress you. He wanted you, all of you, your wit, your laughter, your sparkling eyes.

He just wanted to be yours.

[nerdlvr]

✩ 10 points for hufflepuff !

(MDNI)

smut , hufflepuff!haechan x slytherin!reader (typical) , created this from my 5 books worth of harry potter knowledge pls forgive me , had to throw one merlin's beard in there or else what harry potter au would this be , backshots on a school desk , they're all over the age of 18 tyvm , big dick hyuck (canon) , cocky kinda mean reader , nervous whiny hyuck , unprotected sex , creampie , mentions at the end of renjun and a surprise hufflepuff haha... , requested here !

"wouldn't it be fun to fuck one of those little oafs?"

you rolled your eyes at your very distracted friend, his gaze directed at the table across from yours,

"jun, what are you on about now? focus, and stop thinking about ruining those poor hufflepuffs."

he scoffed, "don't act like you don't think about shagging those pretty little idiots, hearts so big, yet their brains just oh so tiny."

you continued to scribble on your piece of parchment, not wanting to spare a glance at renjun. if only he knew the things you did to lee donghyuck.

.

you dangled the key's to snape's classroom in front of his face, a wide grin spreading on your lips.

"wha-what if we get caught- snape would kill us if he-"

you shushed him, fingers fidgeting with the rusty key, "good thing snape isn't here then, hm?"

he bit his lip, now silent as he followed you into the empty classroom, a small breeze making him shiver.

"this really isn't a good idea y/n, i should be doing my prefect duties around this time-" he pushed his glasses up before flicking his wrist out to check his watch.

you snorted at his dorky attitude, reaching for his hand to pull him towards a desk, "i have a duty for you mr. prefect-"

you pulled at his tie, loosening the tight accessory, "i have a little issue between my legs-"

you fake pouted, fighting a smile as he nodded dumbly, "and you're the only one that can help me fix it-"

he melted into your grasp, hands gripping the sides of the desk as you palmed him through his pants, "can you help me hyuck? please?"

he gulped, clearly hesitant, but he nodded nonetheless, eager to please you, "o-okay, we just- just need to be quick."

it's not like he didn't want to fuck you, he just didn't think you were actually serious. but now as you shimmied onto the desk, dragging your panties down your legs, he thought that if this was a joke then it was a damn good one.

"donghyuck? are you just gonna stare?" you giggled as he smacked his lips together, mouth dry as his eyes ran down your body, landing straight on your glistening core.

he felt his dick twitch in his pants, hands moving quickly to remove his belt, a new sudden hunger burning in his stomach. "quick- quick- we need to be quick-" he flicked his wrist again, checking the time, "this won't do-" he pulled your hips off the desk, turning you around, ass on full display as he flipped your skirt up.

"now you better be quiet or i swear- oh fuck-" his little speech was cut short as you gripped onto the base of his cock, lining him up against your dripping cunt,

"shut up and fuck me hyuck."

he nodded, more to himself than to you as you turned back around to grip onto the desk, wiggling your ass against his leaky tip,

"shit shit shit-" his whiny voice echoed against the classroom walls as he sank himself into your wet heat, your soft walls squeezing him just right. you felt his head drop against your back, shaky hands gripping at the fabric of your skirt.

"merlin's beard, how are you so tight- ahhh- don't do that!" his grip tightened as you playfully squeezed around him, his hips stuttering against your ass as he bottomed out.

you wanted to be cocky, maybe even give a quick mocking comment, but donghyuck's cock filled you to the brim. your body laid slack against the desk, legs growing weak as he rutted into you, only pressing himself deeper into your sopping cunt. "h-hyuck, move, please."

he nodded, again, more to himself than to you, and began to pull out of you, a loud hissing sound emitting from both of you.

"so, so, so, tight, feels s' good." he slurred his words as he began to slap his hips against your ass, keeping his thrusts shallow to avoid any extra noise echoing throughout the dungeon.

you bit your hand to muffle you moans, back arched against donghyuck's stomach, his arms wrapped around your waist as he fucked into you.

"i can't- can't-" the room filled with donghyuck's babbling, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth onto your dress shirt as he squeezed his eyes shut, focused on the feeling of you sucking him in.

"h-hyuck faster, fast-" his hips picked up in speed, any concern about noise being flung out the window as the loud slapping of you ass against him filled the room.

you gripped onto the desk, the flimsy table shaking and creaking beneath you as donghyuck abused your cunt, thick cock stretching your walls as he pulsed inside of you, "hyuck, hyuck, hyuck, i'm close please- please don't stop."

you slipped your hand in between your legs, fingers rubbing against your sensitive bud. your moans grew louder as he reached for your thigh, pulling your leg up to rest on the table. the new angle made him feel impossibly deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as he continued to slam his hips against yours,

"cum for me- please- need it so bad- i'm gonna come y/n- please."

you felt your body tense, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your mouth hung open in a silent moan. his knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped your skirt, deep moans leaving his mouth as he filled you with his cum, your cunt gently milking him as you finished around him.

"so good, so so good baby- did so good." his rough hands massaged you hips, his lips planting light kissed to the back of your head.

your leg fell from the table and he leaned against you back, breath heavy as he slipped out of you, his cum dripping slowly onto the stone floor,

"10 points for hufflepuff!" you raised your finger weakly, giving your best dumbledore impression.

"just 10?" your soft giggles filled the room, his body shaking softly against yours, when-

"well snape isn't here is he?"

the chatty voice of your best friend filled the room as he slipped in with a familiar tall muscular bimbo.

"oh my god that's jeno!" donghyuck whispered against your back, his hand coming up to pull you down onto the floor,

"we have to go now! renjun moves quick, lets go- go!" you whisper shouted to hyuck as he crawled behind you towards the exit, not forgetting to pocket your soaked green panties.

who said prefects couldn't have a little fun?

[sold2vlaykz]

YOU

What kind of partners I think each slasher would have!

Michael Myers

Someone mature yet naive. Michael only kills people who pose as threats, or that could potentially get in his way.

I think he’d likely go for someone who’s mature enough to be a natural adult but naive enough to believe that they could change him.

Jason Voorhees

Christian nature lover, it just seems to be in his character. Especially with his background, a soft person who has a soft spot for natures creatures.

He’d love a sympathetic person, someone who’s emotionally mature enough to understand why he does what he does but has enough morals to know it’s wrong despite.

He’d love someone who he thinks would’ve saved him when he was drowning or at least tried to be his friend.

Gabriel may

An outcast, someone’s who’s likely been abused or neglected, in wards etc. Gabriel seems like the type of man to want someone he can relate too.

Someone who understands his shaky view of life, someone who has morals but doesn’t try to discourage what he does or try to get him to stop because they understand.

Jacob Goodnight

A christian woman, someone who dresses modest and reads books. Respectful and kind someone that his mother would’ve been at least decently fond of.

Bubba sawyer

A farmer or a gardener. Or just someone sweet in general. Someone who manages to befriend his family and doesn’t seem to pose a threat or want to harm him.

Someone who doesn’t look down on his deformity or cannibalistic family.

Art the clown

Someone completely deranged, mentally unstable and psychotic. Gothic, satanic or atheist. Someone who helps him in his crime, or kills.

The Babadook

A soft mother figure almost, an insect enthusiast.

Chucky

A psychopath or sociopath, he’d date crazy but not someone who’s totally batshit insane. Someone with attachment issues based on how he deals with people who want to leave him.

Vincent Sinclair

Artist, or an art enthusiast. Someone with a traumatic past or a slight psychical deformity. More of a trauma bonding relationship.

Bo Sinclair

City girl, someone who tends to wear revealing clothes with a snarky attitude. A fighter, or just a rough handed/strong woman.

Lester Sinclair

A hunter or a foodie. He’d likely just go line up at a food truck and fall in love with the person working there.

Freddy Krueger

A tough snarky woman, someone who has a short attitude and doesn’t know how to lucid dream. Someone shorter than him.

Patrick Bateman

Someone slightly innocent, an airhead. Someone with a sense of humor who interest defer from his.

Dominic

Someone feminine, someone who’s empathetic and helps others often. Likely someone who volunteers at shelters of just a genuine kind person who has made mistakes.

Hannibal

Someone highly intellectual. Understanding and knows kinesics (Body language.)

Billy Loomis

Someone who has the same aesthetic as him, a horror fanatic, a true crime fan.

Billy Lenz

Someone who’s very hyper sexual and can deal with his sex depravity.

Harry warden

Someone who’s self reserved, respects rules, doesn’t wear too much revealing clothing, introverted.

Norman bates

Someone bold or not shy to speak their mind, someone who’s outgoing and very friendly. Typically someone with a flirtatious demeanor.

Pyramid head

Someone with a lot of unresolved trauma, someone who’s introverted, self reserved, and delusional.

ROB ZOMBIE Michael Myers

Introvert, someone strong or takes on the same personality as his mother. Independent, and younger than him.

[the-original-gays]

Percy: Mum, I have something to tell you. I'm gay. And dating Oliver Wood.

George: Oh, me too! Gay, not dating Oliver.

Ron: I just agreed to be Harry's boyfriend, so I guess I am as well.

Molly: Oh, wow, does anyone in this family like girls?

Ginny: I do.

[faunandfloraas]

bonus:

[beas-mind]

Ayo is literally a LEGEND in the making as she becomes the 3RD Black Women to win Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series at The Emmys🥹

[acecroft]

TWIN PEAKS 1.05 ''The One-Armed Man" (1990)

[omgshiftercat]

I have a friend whose ex, a minor celebrity in some circles, was abusive.

Shortly after she and some other women went public about it, there were some people who chimed in talking about other misdeeds of his.

Her ex was, and is, a loathsome waste of oxygen, and the words, "...who deserves every accusation leveled at him" would almost escape my lips...

...Except that some of the accusations people began throwing around because they (understandably) hated this guy weren't true.

This did not help my friend at all! It muddied the waters, and gave her awful ex ammunition for his claims that people were just out to get him, and were willing to make stuff up to smear him.

Switching gears: there's been a lot of discussion recently about how some brilliant and influential art has been created by objectively terrible people. Part of that discussion has been calling out people who say, "Their work always sucked," or "I never liked it." Not only are statements like this unhelpful, they provide cover for predators. If you insist that your tastes reflect your morality, you're giving yourself a huge blind spot, and making it easy to dismiss evidence of harm done by creators you happen to like.

This is one reason why I think exhibits like this one are important: they help teach that lesson.

Three notes on this: 1. by the time of that exhibition, Gill was long dead and therefore unable to profit from it.

2. This kind of thing isn't necessary for every artist, because not every creator does heinous things.

3. My friend's ex is nowhere near the artistic league of Eric Gill or any of the other creators I'll discuss.

Switching gears again...

If someone mentions a bespectacled British boy wizard with an owl familiar, in a modern setting with "secret world" magic, the name that springs to mind is most likely "Harry Potter", right?

But Timothy Hunter, from The Books of Magic, was published a full seven years before that. I was working in a bookstore when the novelizations for the BoM comics came out, and had to tell kids that no, this was not a HP rip-off.

I don't think the reverse was true, either: for one thing, The Books of Magic is set in the DC Universe, and I've never heard of JKR reading superhero comics. But also... sometimes completely separate creators will come up with strikingly similar ideas, utterly by coincidence. It's one reason why most authors tell fans NOT to send them ideas or fanfiction based on their work: there is rarely any good way to prove that you didn't steal a concept.

Now, obviously every creator is influenced by other people's works, and I completely agree that it's good to acknowledge that and to point fans towards your influences!

When Rowling began channeling her resources into making life worse for trans folk, I saw a lot of people saying, "Well, Harry Potter was just a mediocre rip-off of The Worst Witch anyway."

While I haven't read that series, I strongly doubt this claim. The idea of magic schools is older and more widespread than either of those series, and "British boarding school hijinks, but it's a magic school" was bound to be written more than once.

Now, some of you already know, and others have looked up, who originally wrote Tim Hunter. And... yeah, it's Neil Gaiman. *sigh*

In the last few days, I've seen some people saying, "The Sandman ripped off Tanith Lee's Tales from the Flat Earth." They cite a number of similarities: Azhrarn, the Lord of Darkness, is a pale-skinned, raven-haired Byronic figure with a sibling-like relationship to the Lord of Death and the Lord of Madness. Like the Endless, these beings are god-like, but specifically not gods. Apparently some people have mistaken fanart of Azhrarn for Morpheus. And Chuz, Prince Madness, has a bisected appearance, half his face horribly messed up, like the demoness Mazikeen.

But speaking as someone who was a fan of the late Tanith Lee years before I picked up an issue of The Sandman: I don't believe the latter was stolen from the former. Are there similarities? Yes, but they're superficial. If you've read both series, as I have, you'll know that the stories, settings, and characters are very different!

It's possible Gaiman was influenced by Lee's writing, and if so, I agree he should have acknowledged that. He did promote the work of other female creators, which is one reason why many of us thought he was "one of the good ones". But it's also entirely possible that these two authors independently came up with similar ideas.

When it comes right down to it, I think that statements like this -- "their best work was just a rip-off of something else" -- are just another variant of "their work always sucked".

It's often an easier accusation than "they've always been crap", because, as I said, writers come up with strikingly similar concepts all the time, and it's very hard to prove you didn't steal an idea. But it has the same problems, so -- barring the kind of case you could make with a college-level plagiarism-catching program -- I think it's best avoided.

Now, telling people, "Hey, are you sad about this creator turning out to be an awful person to whom you don't want to give any more money? Try this other person's work instead!" This is good! Let's have more of it!

Addendum 1: I think "separate the art from the artist" should mean, "you don't have to treat books already on your shelf as if they're suddenly coated in poison", not "I'm going to ignore this creator's actions and keep buying their products anyway."

Addendum 2: I just posted a version of this to Bluesky.

[filmreveries]

“Quit trying to hold on so tight. I'm gone. Long gone.”

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992) dir. David Lynch

[spyboy2000]

𝙏𝙬𝙞𝙣 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨: 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙈𝙚 1992

[mssorceressupreme]

You Belong With Me | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: it almost felt like unrequited love to you, until you agreed to go to the Yule ball with George, causing his twin brother to get jealous.

Warnings/tags: jealousy, arguing, dancing in the rain, kissing in the rain (when's it gonna be my turn), mutual pining, fred longs for you <3, ending is soo fluffy

———

The cool autumn breeze swept across the courtyard as you and Hermione lounged on a stone bench, basking in a rare moment of calm amidst the Yule Ball frenzy that had overtaken the castle. The two of you were deep in conversation, discussing something far removed from the glittering event.

Hermione was talking about her fascination with ancient runes, her voice animated.

“I just think it’s incredible,” she said, her fingers tracing an invisible symbol in the air. “Languages so old they’ve shaped magic itself. Imagine being able to read something no one else in the room understands.”

You smiled, leaning back against the bench. “I’ll stick to words I can actually pronounce, thanks. Besides, isn’t it enough that half the textbooks at this school might as well be in a foreign language?”

Hermione laughed softly. “Fair point. But honestly, there’s something thrilling about deciphering mysteries.”

You were about to respond when Cho Chang appeared, her face lit up like a thousand fairy lights. “Guess what?” she exclaimed, plopping down beside Hermione, who immediately brightened at her arrival.

“What?” Hermione asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Cedric asked me to the ball!” Cho squealed, clutching her hands together.

Your grin mirrored hers. “That’s amazing, Cho! He’s one of the most sought-after guys in school. Everyone’s going to be jealous.”

Cho flushed with delight, her excitement infectious. “I still can’t believe it. He just came up to me after Charms and asked. Like it was nothing!”

The three of you giggled, and soon the conversation shifted to the ball itself—who would ask whom, what dresses to wear, and how the hall might be decorated.

“Have you two thought about who you might ask?” Cho asked, leaning forward with a curious glint in her eyes.

Hermione glanced away, suddenly absorbed in adjusting the clasp of her cloak. “I—I don’t really know yet,” she mumbled.

Your stomach twisted slightly at the question, though you kept your face neutral. “No one in mind,” you said lightly, though your heart was screaming a different answer: Fred.

The thought of him filled your mind, as it often did lately. His quick wit, the sparkle in his eyes when he was planning a prank, the way his laughter could light up the darkest of days. You could barely imagine him asking you, but the hope lingered all the same.

Cho giggled, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Well, whoever you pick, you’ll have to tell me everything! It’s all anyone’s talking about in Ravenclaw Tower.”

The conversation drifted to Potions, which happened to be our next class, but your mind remained on Fred. Would he ask someone else?

___

The next afternoon, the library was quieter than usual, save for the occasional scratch of quills on parchment. You were deeply engrossed in your Potions notes when George slid into the seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a grin, tossing a book onto the table.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be off plotting your next big prank with Fred?”

He clutched his chest with a dramatic gasp. “Ouch. I’m perfectly capable of studying, thank you very much.”

You chuckled, turning back to your notes as he whipped out his textbook.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm of studying, punctuated by George’s occasional quips and your amused replies. It was comfortable, even fun. Halfway through, he leaned closer, his tone suddenly earnest.

“So, the Yule Ball,” he started, tapping his quill against the table.

You looked up, curious. “What about it?”

He grinned, though there was something tentative about it. “Well, I was wondering if you’d go with me.”

Your heart stuttered. For a split second, you pictured Fred’s face instead of George’s, and disappointment flooded your chest.

But then you saw the hope in George’s eyes and felt a sense of guilt. He was lovely in his own right, and you couldn’t imagine saying no to someone so kind.

“Sure,” you said after a moment, offering a small smile. “I’d love to Georgie.”

He was one of your closest friends after all, how could you say no to George? Besides, at least you wouldn't be attending the ball alone. ___

Later that day, you found yourself in the Great Hall during study period. The long tables were packed with students working on essays and assignments, and the low hum of conversation filled the space. You sat with Hermione, Harry, and Ron, your quill scratching against the parchment as you tried to focus.

The doors swung open, and your heart skipped a beat as Fred entered, his presence commanding the room without even trying. His tie was slightly askew, his hair tousled in that effortlessly handsome way of his.

You quickly looked down at your parchment, forcing yourself to concentrate. But then Fred sat across from you, and ignoring him became impossible.

“Looking forward to the ball?” he asked casually, his eyes meeting yours.

You managed a nod. “Yeah, should be fun.” If you went with me.

George, seated beside you, grinned and announced loudly, “Right?We’re going together!”

The group erupted in congratulations. “So, you two, huh?” Ron teased, his eyebrows waggling.

You forced a smile as the attention turned to you and George. Across the table, Fred’s expression fell, though he quickly masked it with a laugh.

"You two? That'll be entertaining. Best put extra protection over your toes Y/N, George isn't exactly the best dancer."

The laughter around the table grew louder, students chiming in with their own quips and jokes about the Yule Ball. You tried to join in, but your focus kept slipping back to Fred.

Every time George leaned closer to you or made you laugh, Fred’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming against the table in a steady, agitated rhythm.

George, oblivious to his twin’s mood, grinned and nudged you with his elbow. “You’ll see, Y/N. Fred might think he’s the charming one, but wait until you’re spinning across the dance floor with me. I’ll have you thinking I invented the waltz.”

Fred scoffed audibly, folding his arms. “Yeah, right. And she’ll probably need a Healer for her toes by the end of the night. Smooth moves, George.”

George chuckled, brushing off the jab. “Jealous much, Freddie?”

That struck a nerve. Fred’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “Jealous? Of you? You’re dreaming, mate.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like it’s a crime for her to have a decent time at the ball.”

“Decent time? That’s rich, coming from the guy who can’t even sit still during dinner without knocking something over.”

George’s grin faltered, his tone sharpening. “What’s your problem? You’ve been acting like this since I asked her.” He asked, loud enough for only him and Fred to hear. But George, knew exactly what was up.

“Maybe my problem is you jumping in when you knew—” Fred stopped abruptly, clenching his jaw as if he’d said too much.

The table grew quieter as Snape walked by, making sure students were doing work without chatting away, a few heads turning toward the brewing tension. Your heart raced as you glanced between them, unsure whether to step in.

“Knew what, Fred?” George pressed, his own temper starting to rise.

Fred opened his book, a little too harshly, his voice low but laced with frustration. “Forget it. Enjoy your ‘decent time,’ George.”

Not long after, you all found yourselves immersed in studying.

Moments later, Fred tossed a note to Ron, saying “Get a move on, or all the good ones will have gone.”

Ron groaned. “Who are you going with, then?”

Fred didn’t reply. Instead, he rolled another paper ball and lobbed it at Angelina, who turned to Fred, mouthing "What?"

He asked her to the ball. He asked her to the ball. When she nodded in response, your chest tightened painfully.

You felt your chest constrict as you watched the exchange. He asked Angelina. The words echoed in your mind, drowning out the noise around you.

You buried your face in your parchment, pretending to be absorbed in your work, but Hermione’s hand on your arm told you she saw right through you.

Fred glanced at you briefly, his gaze almost apologetic, but you refused to meet his eyes. Instead, you leaned closer to Hermione, trying to block him out.

Whatever, you were going with George anyway, why did Fred matter.

___

The night of the ball arrived, and you met George at the entrance. He was charming as ever, complimenting your dress with a sincere warmth that made you feel beautiful.

“You look stunning,” George said as he approached, his grin warm and genuine.

“Thanks, and you look very handsome” you replied, offering a small smile as he led you inside.

The Hall was breathtaking, transformed into a winter wonderland. But as your eyes scanned the room, they immediately found Fred, your heart faltered at the sight of him with Angelina. He looked devastatingly handsome in his dress robes, his hair neatly combed, though still with that familiar unruly edge.

Fred caught your eye for a fleeting moment, his lips curving into a faint smile, but he quickly turned away. You forced yourself to smile and focused on George, determined not to let your emotions show.

“Let’s say hi,” George suggested, steering you toward his twin.

Fred’s eyes met yours as you approached, and for a moment, everything else faded away. But then he turned to Angelina, jealousy flashing in his gaze before he quickly hid it.

The night went on, the music swelling and laughter filling the air. You danced with George, smiled for the photos, and laughed with friends, but your heart wasn’t in it. Fred was never far from your thoughts, and you couldn’t stop glancing his way.

You sat at the table with George, Lee and Oliver, having some punch to hydrate yourselves after all that dancing.

Across the room, Fred’s gaze kept finding you, a flicker of longing evident in his eyes, though you never noticed.

When he wasn't looking, your eyes found him, and when you glanced away, his gaze found you.

You watched as he laughed with Angelina, something stirred inside you, wishing that was you. Around the room, couples were dancing happily, laughter echoing throughout the room which you drowned out.

You always knew you liked Fred, but this was the first time your emotions felt stronger than ever. You'd never dare admit it, but your heart ached for him, and tonight was the tipping point.

Turning to George, you excused yourself for some air, slipping out into the courtyard as tears welled up.

The first raindrops began to fall as you sat on a bench, cold air biting against your skin as your tears slowly spilled over despite your efforts to hold them back.

You didn't care about the rain; you just sat there.

___

Back inside, Fred’s eyes followed you as you left, a slight frown played upon his lips as he watched you scurry out.

“Go,” Angelina said softly, nudging him.

“What?” Fred asked, startled.

“She likes you, Fred. And it’s obvious you like her too, I see the way you look at her. Stop being an idiot and do something about it.” She chuckled.

Realisation dawned on his face, and without another word, he ran after you.

The rain was pouring by the time he found you. Without thinking, he took off his blazer and held it over your head as he approached. You looked up seeing a tall figure tower over you, holding a blazer over you.

He got soaked, but didn't mind one bit, as long as it kept you dry.

“Mind some company?” he asked, sitting beside you, now extending the blazer over his head too, leaving the two of you huddled under his blazer together.

“Fred, just go,” you said, not looking at him.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice soft. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Crying, no less.”

You turned to him, your heart breaking all over again. “Shouldn’t you be with Angelina?”

Fred shook his head. “There’s nothing between us." He continued, "You do know that she has a thing George, right?”

“Then why didn’t you—” You stopped yourself, unable to finish the thought.

“Because I was too much of a coward to ask you,” Fred admitted, his voice raw. “George knew that, so he stepped in, he just needed to push my buttons that git. But it’s always been you. Only you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world stood still.

“Fred...”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You’re the one I’ve wanted all along.”

Tears welled up again, but this time they were different. You laughed softly, shaking your head. “How did the wrong twin ask the wrong date to the ball?”

Fred chuckled, his hand reaching to tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

You leaned closer, and Fred closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that made everything else fade away.

The kiss was as sweet as his words were, you tasted a linger of punch he drank from earlier, "Mhm, sweet." You giggled. He smiled into the kiss, before leaning back in for another kiss, removing the blazer from above so he could hold you closer to him.

Fred pulled you closer by the waist, holding you like he was going to lost you. "Merlin, you're the most beautiful girl to ever exist." He complimented sincerely.

You blushed, looking down, "Stop it..." you scoff but bit back a smile.

His inspected your face, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, smiling as he did so. The look of love. And you into his, those warm hazel eyes you always dreamed of, finally looking at you in this light.

The soft hum of music floated through the night air, carried from the Great Hall to the quiet courtyard. The sound of a slow, enchanting melody was muffled by the rain but still audible enough to make your heartpace increase.

“They’re playing a slow one now,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

His hazel eyes warmer than the rain, a playful yet nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Dance with me.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, standing up and holding a hand out to you. Raindrops clung to his hair, the dim light from the castle casting a faint glow around him. “It’d be a shame to let a good song go to waste.”

You stared at his hand, your heart fluttering as you hesitated. “Fred, it’s raining.”

“All the better.” He grinned, his usual confidence creeping back into his voice. “Come on, Y/N. You’re already soaked, and we’re already out here. What’ve we got to lose?”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re absurd.”

“And yet, here you are, sitting next to me.” He wiggled his fingers, his hand still extended. “Now, are you going to make me stand here looking like a git, or are you going to dance with me?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. With a sigh of surrender, you placed your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet.

The rain was cool against your skin as Fred tugged you closer, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other still holding your hand.

You hesitated, unsure of where to place your free hand, and he chuckled, guiding it to his shoulder.

“There,” he said softly. “Not so hard, is it?”

The music from the hall swirled around you both as he began to sway, leading you gently. You stumbled at first, unprepared for the sudden closeness, but Fred’s grip was steady, his steps smooth and sure.

“You’re not bad at this,” you teased, looking up at him.

He smirked. “Told you. Miles better than Georgie.”

That made you laugh, and the sound seemed to light up his whole face. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the music or the rain.

The world around you blurred, the rain and the music creating a cocoon of quiet intimacy. Fred twirled you unexpectedly, making you gasp before pulling you back against him, his grin wide and mischievous.

“Show-off,” you said breathlessly.

“Only for you,” he replied, his voice softer now, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere.

You looked up at him, rainwater dripping from your hair, and for a moment, you forgot about the ball, about Angelina, about anything else. It was just Fred—Fred with his warm eyes, his heartfelt grin, and his hands that held you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Fred…” you started, unsure of what you wanted to say.

But he stopped swaying, his hand gently brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “It’s always been you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in like the rain soaking through your clothes. “Fred, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I just…I needed you to know.”

For a moment, you stood there, staring at him, the music from the hall swelling in the background. Then, without thinking, you leaned up on your toes, closing the space between you.

The kiss was soft and slow, rain falling around you as if the world had stopped for just the two of you. Fred’s hand cupped your face gently, the other still resting on your waist, pulling you closer. When you finally pulled back, he was grinning, his forehead resting against yours.

“So, how’s this for a Yule Ball memory?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing.

You laughed, your cheeks flushing despite the cold. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” he said, spinning you one last time before pulling you back into his arms. “Because I don’t think I’m letting you go anytime soon.”

And as the rain continued to fall and the music from the Great Hall drifted through the night, you realised that, for once, you didn’t mind getting soaked.

[bitchtoss]

Amy Lee photographed by Paul Harries, 2006