are you turned on by motherly women

It's Not A Prank (Fred Weasley x Reader)

A request! I love Fred, thanks for the cute request!❤

You were on a crowed platform 9 and ¾ waiting for your parents to pick you up for summer holiday.

‘They’re always late, you’d think they’d be early to pick up their only daughter’ You thought to yourself.

Suddenly your good friend Angelina sauntered up to you with an odd smirk on her lips.

“Looks like Weasley’s making eyes at you”

You sighed and turned to see Fred Weasley’s eyes flick away and try to talk casually with his twin.

“I’m starting to think it isn’t a prank, (Y/N)” she said, keenly, raising her thin eyebrows at you.

“Yes, it is! I can tell, he’s alway sniggering with his brother whenever I’m around”

“But, what if it wasn’t a prank? Would you say yes then?”

You just stared at her, a knowing smile swiping across her face. “Shut up” you snapped back, causing her to giggle.

Suddenly her face brightened “What?” You asked curiously as you turned to see Fred heading your way. You turned back to her quickly.

“Please don’t leave” you whispered.

She looked pitifully at you for a moment before yelling “Oh, George. I have to hug you goodbye!” she walked toward the other Weasley twin, throwing a wink at Fred as she past him.

You groaned quite audibly. “Hello, (Y/N), looking forward to the summer?” Fred asked confidently, with a smile. “You must think I’m an idiot” you spit, looking accusingly at him.

Fred’s eyebrows scrunched suddenly “I’m sorry? I don’t know what you mean?”

You rolled your eyes “I mean, I know your fake little crush on me is some stupid prank to turn me green or dye my hair, well I’m not falling for it!” He opened and closed his mouth, obviously dumbfounded, trying to find words to say.

'He’s just shocked I figured his stupid little plan.’ you though as you turned, finally spotting your family and walked quickly away.

“See you next year” Fred waved slightly, his voice faltering on the last few words.

Suddenly he felt his brother give him a thump on the back. “You convince her yet?” George asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Not yet” Fred said looking at you while you hugged your mother, bitting his lip “not yet.”

—time skip—

Your parents dropped you off at Kings Cross and you quickly grabbed your trunk and headed to Platform 9 and ¾.

Your summer was long and quite boring so you were very excited to start the new school year and see all your friends again. One particular person though, was prominent in your thoughts over your holiday.

Fred.

You found yourself wishing for hours that his 'crush’ on you last year hadn’t been a prank. You though of what it’d be like to have holiday at his house, spend nights with him by the fire in the common room, make jokes with him, cuddle with him, kiss him.

This is when you stopped yourself. 'Constantly thinking about it won’t change the fact that he doesn’t like you.’ You thought as you pushed through the barrier. You looked, confused why the Hogwarts Express wasn’t on the tracks and there were scarcely any people on the platform.

“Oh, we’re just early, Dear. The Hogwarts Express hasn’t arrived yet”

You turned to see a short, ginger, motherly looking women who smiled kindly at you. “Oh” you laughed, checking your watch

“I guess I just got excited”

You dropped your trunk near a post. “What’s your name, Dear. You look familiar” the ginger witch asked politely. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you said, smiling, as you shook her plump hand.

“Oh! (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’m Molly Weasley. You’re the girl my boy, Fred hasn’t stopped talking about all holiday!” She said cheerfully, taking your hand in both of her’s.

“So beautiful, just as he said. Good marks, too! And a prefect! The perfect young women you are!”

Your face was shocked and you stammered out thank yous whenever you could.

“Now I know Freddie doesn’t get the best marks but it’s only because he apply himself properly. But he’s a man who’d take take care of you, I tell you.” Mrs. Weasley rambled on and on about her son, not noticing the flabbergasted look on your face.

“But very handsome, too. He make a fine-”

Suddenly she was cut off by a “Mum!” You looked away from Molly to see Fred looking terrified.

“Um, Ron needs you immediately, his uh… tooth came out”

Mrs. Weasley dropped your hand and looked strangely at her son

“Ron’s already lost all his teeth”

Fred took her shoulders and guided her off

“Well, then you’d better get over there”

Fred looked back at you, his face was flushed and you saw the nervous look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable, you know mums”

You looked intensely at him, your jaw still dropped. You suddenly felt very flustered.

“W-was a-all that t-true?”

You stuttered. Fred bit his lip quickly “If she told you what I think she did then, um, yeah”

You’d never seen Fred like this before, his hands were trembling and he was avoiding your gaze, looking at the floor.

“Oh, well-” Fred suddenly got a burst of courage “I’m in love with you, (Y/N) and I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like a prank or something because, I do honestly feel that way and if you don’t feel the same, I understand. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about yo-”

“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind either, I’m in love with you too” you said confidently.

Fred’s eyes went wide “Really?” You stepped forward, so you were inches away from him “Really” you whispered. Fred stared into your eyes for a moment then closed the gap between you. He rested his hands on your waist and pulled you close, you put yours on his chest and slid them up to wrap around his neck. The kiss was cut short when you heard Mrs. Weasley walking back.

“I don’t know what you’re up to Fred but Ron’s teeth are fully- FREDRICK WEASLEY GET YOUR MOUTH OFF THAT POOR GIRL!” She shrieked.

Fred pulled away from you, laughing. His bright eyes looking lovingly at you

“Way to go, Freddie!” You heard George shout from a distance.

“Now I’m much more looking forward to this school year” Fred said, looking down at you. “Me too” you said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around you.

A legit game we had with a legit conversation

Player 1: “Wait so there’s 4 bovine women in skimpy outfits and a totally nude one that are all worshiping a type of motherly figure kind of god.”

GM (Me): “Uh, yeah, so what?”

Player 1: “Are they lactating?”

GM (Me): “What do you think?”

Player 1: “Niiiice, gonna have me some fun.”

GM (Me): “Alright any other questions?

Player 2: “When the fuck did D&D turn sexy?”

Longing is a conversation between the absent. The distant turning towards the distant. Longing is the spring’s thirst for the jar-carrying women and vice versa. Longing pulls distance back, as if looking forward, which has been called hope. Longing is an adventure and a poetic notion. The present tense is hesitant and perplexed. The past tense is hanging from a Cypress tree standing behind a hill on its rooted leg, enveloped in its dark green, listening to one sound: the sound of the wind. Longing is the sound of the wind.

The more you delve into your loneliness, like that tree, the more longing takes you with motherly tenderness to its country which is made of transparent, fragile material. Longing has a country, a family, and an exquisite taste in arranging wild flowers. It has a time chosen with divine care. A quiet mythical time in which figs ripen slowly and the gazelle sleeps next to the wolf in the imagination of the boy who did not witness a massacre. Longing takes you around its country like a tour guide in heaven. It takes you up to a mountain where you used to take refuge and wallow in wild plants until your pores soak the smell of sage. Longing is smell.

Every winter an absent joy pains you and you walk under the rain one in two: you and the person you were in another winter. You speak secretly to yourself words you don’t understand because of memory’s inability to retrieve a previous emotion, and because of longing’s ability to add what did not exist to what existed. Such as the tree becoming a forest and the stone a quail, such as being happy in a prison cell you see wider than a public garden, and the past standing waiting for you tomorrow like a loyal dog. Longing lies and it doesn’t tire of lying because it lies truthfully. The lying of longing is a profession.

Longing is exile’s punishment for the exiled and the exile’s shame of liking exile’s music and gardens… to long means not to be overjoyed by anything here, except with shyness. If I were there- you say- If I were there my laugh would be louder and my speech clearer. Longing is the yearning of words to their initial space even if they are obscure and strange.

Longing is a wound in the heart and the thumbprint of a country on the body. But no one longs for his wound. No one longs for a pain or a nightmare, but to what was before. To a time where there is no pain except the pain of primary pleasures which melt time like a cube of sugar in a cup of tea, to a time of paradisiacal image.

Longing is the wailing of right when it is incapable of providing proof of right’s might before extreme might… the wailing of homes buried under settlements which the absent bequeaths to the absent, and the present to the absent, with the first drop of milk in exile and in camps. Longing is the sound of silk rising from berries to those who long for it in mutual wailing. It is the fusion of instinct in the conscious and the unconscious. It is lost time complaining of the sadism of the present.

(Translated from the Arabic by Sinan Antoon)
—  In The Presence of Absence - Mahmoud Darwish
Iris West - A girl I can finally relate to

I recently did a post about how awesome it is that the West(+Allen) family is, especially since it laughs in the face of what TV has been calling a “traditional black family” for years. Now I just wanted to say a few words about the amazing Iris. 

Growing up the way I did, I found it harder to relate to most of the black characters that I would see in many shows on TV outside of our skin colour. I actually found myself often identifying more with the white female characters. Why? Because I had more in common with their characters’ portrayals than the black ones. I didn’t grow up in the ghetto or even in a predominantly black neighborhood. I don’t speak ebonics, nor do I sit in a hair salon every week getting a perm. I do listen to hip-hop and R&B, but I also listen to rock, alternative, house, dance, opera, classical, Kpop and many other genres. I don’t refer to my black male friends using the n-word or my female friends as bitches. I’m not outspoken or loud, and I’ve never rolled my neck or snapped my fingers in someone’s face. I don’t only date black men.

Now I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with women who fit into some or all of the above in any way. I’m simply saying that’s not me. And I’m black. So when I would turn on the TV and see nothing but black women who fit most or all of the traits I mentioned above and only that, I found it harder to relate to them as characters and often, not ideal to look up to.

Now take Iris West’s character in The Flash. Iris grew up in suburbia. She doesn’t speak in ebonics. She isn’t loud or outspoken, though she speaks up when she needs to. She’s gorgeous and unlike on so many other shows (I’m looking at you, TVD) men actually notice her and find her attractive. She’s not some asexual, motherly type who’s only there to dole out advice and send the kids on their way while she contentedly watches from the sidelines.

She’s not falling all over herself to get the lead male’s attention while propping every other female on the show but herself as the best option for him. She’s university educated and clearly smart and intuitive. In short, she’s a real character. So many times I’ve seen shows cut writing and character development corners when it came to minority women - especially in shows targeted at younger demographics. But thank the Power of Greyskull that The Flash writers haven’t done this. 

I don’t get the impression that Iris is just going to be the “little woman” waiting at home while Barry goes out to save the world; or only serve as away to push the development of Barry’s character. I truly think that the writers intend on making Iris a fully rounded character with her own battles to wage and goals to achieve. That’s HUGE for a minority character (especially on the CW).

That is yet another reason why I’m super digging this show, and hope with all my power that they don’t change the awesome recipe they’ve been using thus far. Bring on Tuesday!