I am Clueless.

So, 24 and 41 is already done together, do you want me to make a new one with all of them or just do 5? 

If you aren’t able to, then you can do just 5, it will be fine! :) 

There are all kinds of narrators–going way beyond simple first or third person. Here’s a little study of the different types.

First Person 1. The Protagonist Relatively straightforward, this is a story the hero narrates. He’ll narrate the same way he talks, but with more description and perhaps better grammar. The reader is privy to all his thoughts and opinions, which means we get to know the hero faster, and often relate to him more easily. Example:

…I take up my pen in the year of grace 17–, and go back to the time when my father kept the “Admiral Benbow” inn, and the brown old seaman, with the saber cut, first took up his lodging under our roof. Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson

2. The Secondary Character Someone close to the protagonist, but not the main hero. The same things in the above type apply to this type, but the focus of the story moves away from the narrator. Example:

“Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said Stamford, introducing us. “How are you?” he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.” “How on earth did you know that?” I asked in astonishment. “Never mind,” said he, chuckling to himself. Watson in A Study in Scarlet, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Third Person

1. Third person omniscient This type knows all, peeking into the lives of major and minor characters, reading everyone’s thoughts. This enables the writer to explore multiple facets of the story in depth. Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart trilogy, for example.

2. Third person limited This type knows only what the main character, or characters, know. This is more restrictive, but increases suspense and intrigue, because the reader only solves the mystery at the same time the characters do. 1984, by George Orwell, is a good example.

The following types can fall into either omniscient or limited:

3. The Detached Observer A detached third person narrator sticks to telling the story, and never inserts his own opinions—never slips in an “I” or a “me” except in direct dialogue. You probably won’t notice voice at all. It’s fruitless to give an excerpt showing what a writer didn’t do, but Orwell’s 1984 is, again, a good example.

4. The Commentator This type never physically enters the story, but freely adds in his own amusing commentary. Allows voice without the complication of using an existing character. Example:

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face-to-face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens

Somewhere in Between Or maybe the narrator isn’t a strict “third person,” but is involved in the story in some way.

1. The Interviewer This type has collected the details of the story after it happened, such as by interviewing the characters. This lends a sense of reality to the story. Example:

It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterwards. Lucy could only say, “It would break your heart.” “Why,” said I, “was it so sad?” “Sad! No,” said Lucy. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by C.S. Lewis

2. The Secret Character Sometimes a narrator only pretends to removed from the story—they may refer to themselves in third person right up to the end, but will eventually be mentioned by some other character, or revealed to be a major character, even the villain, for an extra-pleasing plot twist. Example:

“Lemony?” Violet repeated. “They would have named me Lemony? Where did they get that idea?” “From someone who died, presumably,” Klaus said. The End, by Lemony Snicker

3. The Unreliable Narrator Usually first person, but occasionally third, an unreliable narrator has a flawed point of view. That is, the writer intentionally made him biased, misinformed, insane, etc. Examples include Nelly in Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë, or Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger. Here’s one from Poe.

Example:

“If still you think me mad, you will think no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse.” The Tell-Tale Heart, by Edgar Allen Poe

Well today, kids, PC Plum cracks down on the drug trafficking. Welcome to the real world you little shits,

oh

and

not to forget

the actor who played Spencer? yeah his daughter is a porn star

her name is skin diamond. look her up

or dont

Talk about irony

➨ funny tumblr

Is

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: The reader and Charlie don’t hit it off at first but once they spend some time together, they realise that the other isn’t so bad after all.

Note: This is nowhere near the quality that it could be but if I don’t post it now, I would just delete it and that’d be a waste, so enjoy!

hi! would it be possible for you to do a fred weasley oneshot? you can do anything but can you make it really fluffy? thanks! X

(Disclaimer: I know Fred would have been dead long before any of these events, but I have written it as an AU of what I think would have happened if he didn’t die.

Also I hope it is fluffy enough for you; I was trying to get the balance right, because there is a fine line between fluff and cheese!)

Warnings: Fluff and slight references to smut.

A/N: All characters from the potterverse belong to J.K. Rowling

One-shot masterlist is linked here: [X]

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and this weekend had been one of the rare few in the busy month of December that Fred had taken off work. With George and Angelina about to become parents at any second, the twins had shut up their shop, spending their well earned weekend off with their loved ones.

Today, you and Fred had decided to spend the day at home; not bothering to go out anywhere extravagant after a busy weekend of visiting family. You had agreed that as long as you spent the day together, you didn’t care what you were doing, and the idea of a relaxing day in appealed to both of you.

Fred’s success with the shop meant that you had recently been able to buy your first home together; a small, rickety, stone grey cottage, which had a tall triangular roof that was scattered with many chimneys. It had large black bay windows, a round mahogany front door and the outside stonework at the front of the house was nearly hidden with ivy and wild plants.

The pair of you had fallen in love with the cottage immediately and its location in the suburbs of Hogsmeade was ideal for Fred and the shop, as well as meaning that you were secluded. After all that you had been through, a peaceful life with Fred was the only thing that you wanted and you would never tire of the peace and quiet that the cottage provided you with.

You were currently both squashed on the small patchwork love seat in your lounge. Due to Fred’s size, he was as per usual, unintentionally taking up much of the tiny two-seater sofa. You had learnt to squeeze in around him, never daring to get rid of the sofa; the pair of you loved how it gave you the excuse to cuddle close together.

You were resting a copy of the daily prophet on his lap, lying on your stomach on the remainder of the sofa; your legs dangling over the arm behind you, idly kicking the air. As you read, Fred was absentmindedly playing with your hair with one hand; knowing it was something that you found deeply relaxing. With his other hand, he was petting your purple pygmy puff; laughing at the fact that it had followed you to the sofa.

You twisted your body at an angle which allowed you to see Fred’s face. “Hey Fred, I’m reading this thing about floo powder mishaps and did you know that this one witch got it so badly wrong one time that she ended up somewhere in Australia…and she lived in England,” you began laughing maniacally at this, Fred quickly joining you.

“If you ask me, you would have to be a right idiot to get it wrong at all,” Fred scoffed, “of course that didn’t stop Harry from messing it up that one time.” You snorted with amusement at this, happily going back to your previous position and continuing reading your article; Fred’s hand finding its way back to your hair.

These kind of afternoons were your favourite; you loved how you could enjoyably sit in silence with Fred- the pair of you feeling so comfortable with each other that you didn’t always feel the need to make conversation.

Noticing that Fred’s hand was now motionless and no longer playing with your hair; his soft snores confirmed your suspicions that he had fallen asleep. Folding up the newspaper, you stifled a yawn and rolled on to your side so that you were facing his steadily rising stomach. 

Removing his now redundant hand from its position on the top of your head, you held it tightly with the hand that you weren’t lying on; entwining your fingers with his. You settled your head on his lap, preparing to join him in a nap as you got cozy. Your’s and Fred’s locked hands were also comfortably situated on his lap, and they were positioned just in front of your face as you fell asleep.

A loud smash, followed by a painful squeal woke you and Fred up with a start. Both of you attempted to jump up with alarm, causing your heads to smash together due to the close proximity in which you were sleeping.

“Jesus Fred, are you trying to give me concussion?” you groaned, rubbing your head with your hand, feeling grouchy from your abrupt wakening. Fred, who had slipped out from underneath you, was now kneeling in front of you. He kissed your forehead sweetly as he spoke.

“Sorry love, but it isn’t my fault that you can’t resist being apart from me while I nap,” he joked. You began to chuckle as Fred moved over to the window, now pointing at the owl which had woken you up and was steadily beginning to slide down the glass.

“It was only ruddy Errol flying in to the bloody window again…even though the window over here IS OPEN,” he moaned, directing his annoyance at the brown mess of feathers which was stuck to the glass. “Mum and dad really need to get a new owl; Errol was already past it when we were at blimmin’ Hogwarts.”

Fred peeled the owl off the window, bringing him in to the house and placing him gently on the windowsill so that he could recover. Shaking out his feathers, he clumsily dropped a letter folded in brown parchment to Fred, before flying back off the way he came.

You were now in the kitchen getting a glass of water, leaving Fred alone to read the mail from his mother. Still feeling groggy from your nap, you were splashing your face with water from the kitchen tap when he began shouting at you from the other room.

“(Y/N), get some shoes on, we need to go out NOW!” There was a frenzied tone to his voice and as you walked back to the lounge, you looked at him with confusion as he was putting on some rather small shoes on in a maniac rush.

“Fred those are my shoes,” you amusingly pointed out, crossing your arms over your body. “Slow down will you? What could possibly be that important?” you asked as he threw the pair of shoes at you, grabbing some of his own. You slipped them on effortlessly, leaning on the wall in the lounge as you watched him.

“George and Angelina have gone into labour,” he yelled, getting his words in a muddle before frantically shaking his head. “I mean Angelina has gone in to labour…oh whatever,” Fred gave up with trying to explain himself. “You knew what I meant; come on, we need to go!” You swiftly walked over to him; finally understanding and feeling excited as Fred gently took your hand. Following the directions in the letter from his mother, he apparated you to the maternity ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

You immediately recognised the hospital as the same one that Arthur had been sent to after being attacked by Nagini during the second wizarding war. Still holding Fred’s hand tightly, you greeted his parents first, hugging and kissing them both lovingly. You could see that Hermione was also present with Ron, Harry was sitting quietly with Ginny and you were pleasantly surprised to even see Charlie sitting and talking to Bill, Fleur and Percy. 

You quickly moved over to greet the rest of Fred’s siblings and your close friends. Patiently sat among your love ones, you were comfortably tucked under Fred’s arm, laughing and joking as you waited for news; no one but George being allowed to be present with Angelina.

When he eventually emerged from the room, George’s face was plastered with a beaming grin and much to the hospital staffs annoyance, he was met by loud cheering from you and the rest of the family. He cleared his throat as he made an announcement.

“So guys, I guess it could be said…that…twins run in the family,” George dramatically prolonged his speech, smiling widely at the unexpected turn to the day; only planning to become a father to one child today. Molly let out a cry of happiness, hugging Arthur as Fred leapt up; tightly engulfing his twin in a hug, congratulating him on the news.

“I’m so happy for you both, George. When can I see Fred and George Junior?” Fred joked, looking at you as he laughed at himself, earning several shakes of the head from his family members.

“Sorry Freddie, but you won’t be seeing Fred and George Junior, because I am actually now the proud father of two twin baby girls,” George stated, earning another round of cheers and applause from all.

“How about (Y/N) and Hermione junior then?” You suggested, setting Hermione off in laughter as Fred made his way back over to you, kissing you proudly on the cheek.

“And that is why I love you,” he snickered, slinging his arm around your shoulders. He was holding you close, and you placed one of your hands on his torso, smiling back at Molly when she smiled warmly at the pair of you.

Because the hospital room was too small to comfortably hold any more than four adults at a time, you visited George, Angelina and the newborns in pairs, also not wanting to overwhelm them. Molly and Arthur went in first, leaving the rest of you to impatiently wait for your turn to visit. 

Some of the others were in more of a rush due to their jobs and families; you and Fred were in no rush, and therefore didn’t mind waiting until last. Sharing a hot drink and snacks while you quietly chatted, you watched the waiting room gradually clear out.

When you had said your goodbyes to Hermione and Ron, you were the only members of the Weasley clan left and you eagerly made your way in to the small private hospital room. You quickly walked over to Angelina, hugging her and congratulating her; Fred following in pursuit. 

George and Angelina kindly let you hog their babies, knowing that they would have all the time in the world to hold them later and you were thankful of this, not being able to get enough of the beautiful babies. Being the last two visitors, you and Fred stayed a lot longer than the rest had, chatting to George and Angelina about possible baby names as you cuddled and cooed over the tiny newborns. 

You had been taking it in turns with each; you and Fred swapping every so often to divide your time equally among the babies. George and Angelina smirked knowingly at each when they noticed Fred watching you for the third time; a longing smile on his face.

It wasn’t until the smaller baby grabbed hold of your finger tightly and you looked up to show Fred, that you realised he had already been watching you. You couldn’t read his expression as you smiled at him in return, Angelina giggling as you turned to look at George who had begun speaking.

“So me and Angelina were thinking, if you want to- we would like you both to be the babies godparents,” George proposed, waiting patiently for your reply as he sat on the end of the hospital bed. Fred didn’t even need to ask you, already knowing what your answer would be from the huge smile on your face. 

“It would be our pleasure. Those poor babies are going to need some place cool to come and stay when you start driving them mad,” Fred responded, earning chuckles from all. 

Shortly after this, you said your goodbyes to the new parents, not wanting to overstay your welcome. You begrudgingly placed the sleeping baby which you were holding and had already grown attached to, back in their Angelina’s arms- Fred doing the same with George. Leaving the new family to get some rest, you gently kissed the babies on the head and promised George and Angelina that you would visit them very soon.

After disapparating back home, it had gotten quite late and you and Fred went straight up to bed; the day’s events having tired you out. After settling down, you lent over to turn off your bedside lamp, easily finding your way back to Fred’s warmth in the darkness. Lying on your side, you placed your head on his chest. Fred immediately responded to this by placing his arm tightly around you, holding you close to him; his cheek resting on the top of your head.

“Today was amazing,” you yawned quietly. “They are literally the most perfect babies ever.” You spoke into the darkness as you laid on Fred’s chest; a small smile on your face.

“Ours will most definitely be a lot cuter,” Fred disagreed, his competitiveness with his twin emerging.

You lifted your head off his chest, propping your body up with your elbows as you leant on your side looking at his face; your eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to be able to make out his facial features.

“What do you mean…ours?” You quietly questioned. You had never properly discussed starting a family with Fred. You had speculated over the idea of marriage and children, but it had never been something which you had both seriously discussed.

“Oh don’t sound so surprised (y/n). I love you, of course I want to start a family with you,” Fred nonchalantly stated. “Today made me think about it a lot,” he confessed.

“Ouch, I bet all that thinking hurt; your brain isn’t used to it,” you teased, feeling his body shake beside you as he chuckled.

“I think we would make great parents, and I kind of feel ready for it, you know?” Fred admitted, feeling like he could entirely express his thoughts to you.

You hadn’t really thought about it much until today either, but similarly to Fred, today had left you feeling broody. “I get what you mean,” you agreed.

After a moments silence he continued, “Don’t get me wrong, they were bloody cute babies. But with a mother as beautiful as you, and a smoking hot father like me…we will obviously have the better looking children; it’s just how science works,” Fred joked. Leaning forward, he softly kissed the tip of your nose before lying back down, pulling your head back on to his chest like before.

Not being able to find the right words to respond, you let your instincts take over. “Well I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” you sultrily prompted, once again lying on your side next to him. Fred knew where you were going with this; propping himself up before cupping your face with his hands.

Lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb, Fred sat up properly, his forehead resting on yours. You both lent in, meeting with a sweet kiss, which promptly grew more lustful. The kiss, now heated and no longer innocent, resulted in Fred flipping you over gently; using his elbows to hold his body above yours as he initiated the nights activities.