#accusative with the infinitive my beloved

[ffsg0jo]

𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

character :: higuruma x fem reader

warnings :: fluff, mentions of death/ghosts, allusions to depression, children, pregnancy, higuruma has low self esteem sometimes, kissing, cute kids

w/c :: 1000

a/n :: thank you so so much @xodapawp for sending this request. it was written as a part of my fics for gaza commissions that im doing. if you enjoyed it and would like to donate to gaza, then please check out the linked post for more information and @ficsforgaza too !!

life was fleeting, something hiromi knew all too well. things could change in mere seconds, time slipping like sand between one’s fingers. the tighter he tried to hold onto it, the faster the streams ran, leaving behind bitter, salty grains.

guilt weighed on his shoulders with the intensity of a thousand suns, blinding his view and blurring the lines between sense and nonsense. the wax wings on hiromi’s shoulders melting, facilitating his spiralling descent. deeper and deeper he fell into the endless abyss of his mind. he was helpless, his sense of justice skewed. the mental subjugation and torment seemingly infinite.

but then you came into his life.

hiromi has no idea what he did to be deserving of you. he keeps waiting and waiting for something to go wrong, retribution for his misdeeds. through restless nights where he could hear shrieks of the ghosts of his past coming back to haunt him. he was so sure you could hear them too and that you’d leave, but you didn’t. instead holding him close to you through it all, the comforting weight of your body on his, fighting the emptiness within.

you loved and accepted him for what he was, a broken man in need of respite. he was underserving of your kindness and tried to push you away, but you saw the good in his heart and called out to it. you helped him heal and fought his hardships with him, side by side. slowly but surely, the fog in his mind lifted, the blinding lights dimming until his view was clear. in you he found atonement. he found liberation.

you blessed him with, not one, but two angels, with a third on the way. hiromi thought he knew happiness, like winning a case for someone wrongly accused of a crime or sinking into a steamy bath after a long, tiring day. but when he first laid eyes on his sweet baby boy he burst into tears, kissing your face repeatedly, his heart swollen, full of love. he had never been happier (save for the day he married his one true love).

hiromi watched his son grow day by day, looking more and more like him. his face may have been an exact replica of his father’s, but his son’s sincerity and open-hearted nature was all yours. in his son’s smile he saw you.

time flew before his eyes, only now he looked back on his memories with fondness and gratitude. before he knew it, his family was due to expand again, with the addition of his baby girl. he was the luckiest man in the world, his heart overflowing with warmth, happiness running through the ends of his hairs to the tips of his toes.

with you laying your head on his shoulder, his son doing his homework on the living room floor, and his daughter sleeping in his arms, he felt truly at peace. looking down at his precious daughter he found a million reasons why he had loved (and always will love) you.

hiromi was never one to appreciate to his looks. but in the mornings, when shaving before work, he’d end up scrutinising every single little detail. he saw his son, looking him in his eyes, a bigger version of his daughter’s cute nose on his face. that infectious smile of yours now mirrored on his lips. how could he have ever felt so insecure about himself when his children are the very essence of his being. looking at his beloved children, he thinks, no he knows, there is beauty inside of him too. that there always was.

 “romi is everything okay?”

your voice lulls him out of his reverie, bringing him back to the present. your daughter was out of his arms and was now calling your son’s name, clambering onto his back whilst he was on the floor colouring. he paid her no mind, used to be treated like a climbing frame, and continued working on his school project.

hiromi, sat cuddling you on the sofa, laughs when she starts pulling his hair. his son finally has enough and stands up, pulling the three-year-old onto his shoulders, and runs around the tea table pretending to be a plane. your husband turns back to you, absentmindedly rubbing your swollen stomach.

“just thinking my love,” he says, leaning down and kissing between your brow. you hum and snuggle into his arms further.

“penny for your thoughts?”

“absolutely not, they’re worth more than a pretty penny,” he jokingly scoffs.

“fine,” you huff, leaning up to kiss him tenderly. “a kiss for your thoughts.”

he acquiesces, leaning down to press his cheek against yours.

“just thinking about how lucky i am to have you.” you turn your face to meet hiromi’s gaze, eyes shining at the strength of the sincerity in his admission. you bring your hands up to hold his face, pressing kisses to his lips.

“i’m the lucky one my sweetheart, you’ve given me everything i could’ve ever asked for and more.”

a warmth rushes through his body at your words and he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss. the hand on your stomach moves to your waist as he gently pulls you into him, deepening the kiss.

“ewww daddy’s eating mummy.” your daughter exclaims, pointing down from her brother’s shoulders.

you pull apart and laugh at her words. your son only looking at you both with a smile, heart warming at the sight of his parents being so openly in love.

hiromi jumps up from the sofa and runs towards your daughter, grabbing her off your son’s shoulders and playfully bites and kisses her cheeks.

over the sounds of her delighted giggles, hiromi exclaims “gonna gobble you next”, aggressively om nom nomming her cheeks.

your son sits down next to you and lays his head onto your chest, hugging you, mindful not to put too much weight onto your midsection. immediately your hand comes up to stroke his hair and you kiss his forehead. he’s so much like his father, both in personality and looks.

laughing at his dad’s antics, both you and your son fondly watch hiromi now throw your daughter up into the air and catch her. rubbing your stomach, you pray the child in your womb turns out exactly like their father.

truly, what a blessed family you’ve both created.

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[gailyinthedark]

4. Brutus sends a letter to Pandrasus.

So as their chosen leader Brutus summoned the Trojans and fortified Assaracus’s towns. He took over the woods and hills, along with Assaracus and the multitude of men and women who continued to join them.

Then Brutus directed a letter to the king, in these words:

“To Pandrasus king of the Greeks, from Brutus leader of the survivors of Troy, greetings. It was a shame that a people arisen from the famed kin of Dardanus should be treated otherwise in your kingdom than your nobles’ peace of mind required; we have withdrawn, therefore, to the secret places of the woods.* For we would rather live like wild beasts, sustaining ourselves on game and forest plants in freedom, than be cheered any longer by common comforts while beneath the yoke of your servitude. If this offends your royal honour, we should not be blamed but pardoned, since it is the fault of every captive to wish to return to his former state. May you be moved with pity toward this people, therefore, to return the freedom which you stole from them, and permit them to dwell freely in the forest glades they have now occupied in order to flee their servitude. If not, then at least allow them safe passage to join the peoples of other lands.”

This passage was interesting because the letter was written in quite a different style from everything up to now. I wonder if it was drawn from or patterned on some other work? Anyway sarcasm is hard enough in English so the asterisked sentence especially had me tearing out my hair, I just finally cracked it today. (My husband couldn't get it and neither could my brother-in-law so I don't think it was just me being dumb?)

I used the first person plural to describe the Trojans in the letter for clarity. Geoffrey/Brutus has it in the third person singular with gens as the subject.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

It's really been wonderful to me as a closeted gay kid in a country where it's illegal (punishable by up to 16 years in prison) to have my favorite streamer explicitly endorse people writing RPF of him with his best friend. He's been asked about it by trolls multiple times and gone, "Why would it bother me if someone imagined I was gay? Why would that be bad?" and after a time where his friends convinced him to try on a dress and trolls tried to go 'what if someone writes you as trans', "Why would that be bad? There's infinite universes out there. Maybe I'm trans somewhere. Pray for her, though, finding dresses when you're 6"6 has to fucking suck, bro."

Antis keep accusing him of queerbaiting because he's not telling people to stop but it's really fucking nice, actually, on my end. He's cishetallo and macho and buff and also completely fine with people thinking he's queer. He's fine with people writing him as queer. His only complaint is that fanfics don't write about his beloved pet dog enough. He went to gay clubs with his best friend when he came out because he knew his buddy was anxious about going alone. He was fine being hit on there.

"It's problematic! It's queerbaiting!" Shut the actual fuck up do you know how nice it is to see the most cis, most het dude I've ever seen be completely comfortable with people like me? To see someone cishet be comfortable with someone thinking he's like me? To see someone cishet wrap his arms around his friend and hug him from behind and let him rest his head on his lap on the subway and nap? It feels like a reminder I'm human and there are people who will treat me like I'm human someday.

"RPF is immoral!" Fuck you, no it's not, both in general but ESPECIALLY when you have consent - recorded consent, at that - on behalf of both people involved! I have been hauled out of depression by this shit, you don't get to call it immoral just because you don't like it.

Absolute icon of a person, if only everybody was so sweet and had so much fun in their life.

[thegleamingmoon]

Thanks to @thatacademic Akka/Sakhi for encouraging me to write this otherwise this would've remained half-written for ages lol.

Here we go,my first ever fic on PS

****

His precious jewel

'Thodudaya sevian

Vidai eriya’

At the odd hour of midnight,the Kodumbalur princess gently hummed the tune of the thevaaram by Sambandhar. Which she once had dedicated to her precious prince.

‘Thoo Venmathi soodi

Kaadudaiya

Sudalai podi poosi

En ullam kava kalvan’

Melancholy filled her tunes as her thoughts travelled from Ilavarasar and Ilaiya Piratti to Poonguzhali and back to Ilavarasar and all the events that had transpired a few days before, filling her heart with sadness and more confusion.

“Ilavarasi”

A rich baritone male-voice called, breaking her chain of thoughts,as Vaanathi wondered about its familiarness until she looked up to find out it was very familiar indeed.

"What brings to the gardens at this odd hour of midnight,prince?”

The heart of the said prince, Arulmozhi broke a little as she chose to address him as someone distant, instead of being her usual chirpy self.

"I wanted to make some things clear,princess. He said,masking the emotions of hurt and concern behind his stern look.

The oath. Why did you take such an oath, Ilavarasi?" Without beating around the bush,he got straight to the point that had been bothering him quite a lot for the past few days.

“Why do you ask,prince?”

A sigh escaped from her lips as she chose not to look at the prince again and began to speak.

“I just declared what was there in my mind for a very long time. I could not bear the accusations that were hurled at me,rumours that were spread about me,about us. I could not find a better way to put an end to all that.”

“But I need not prove my love for you,Ilavarasae, for it has always been as vast and deep as the endless oceans. This life has taken almost everything away from me ,let it not take away my self-respect.”

Taking a deep breath,she continued.

“Ungal manathil enna irukiradhu endru puriyaamal ivalavu naatkal irundhuten. Inimel ippadi panna maten.”

( I could not understand the conflict of your mind,it will not happen hereafter )

Fighting back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes,she started to go back to the palace when Arulmozhi held her hand,making her breath hitch and her feet stop in the tracks.

“En idhayathil yaar irukiradhu endru unakku theriyuma,Ilavarasi?”

( Do you know who's there in my heart, princess? )

“Huh?”

“Nee mattum thaan”

(Its you and only you)

Holding her hand with a firm grip he pulled her slightly close to him.

“Aamam Vaanathi! Naan unnai vaanalavuku nesikkiren. Naan seidha thavaragalai mannipaayaa? Ennai Mannipaayaa? Sol iniyavale,yennai thirumanam seivaaya?"

( Yes Vaanathi! My love for you is as infinite as the sky. Will you forgive me for my mistakes? Will you forgive me? Oh dearest,will you marry me? )

To say that the Kodumbalur princess was shocked yet overjoyed at this unexpected confession would be an understatement. Her eyes,like lotus petals met his and all she saw was only his pure love towards her. Pristine and devoted like hers.

“Sammadham,Yaanai Paagaa!” She exclaimed,laughing through her tears which made the heart and eyes of the said mahout overflow with sheer happiness.

“Be my queen,Vaanathi. Be my beloved queen who would rule my soul,who would rule me! Just stay with me always and forever.”

“Forevermore,beloved! May you never leave my heart.”

And with that the tearful princess,overwhelmed with whatever was going on,hid herself in the secure embrace of the prince who treasured her in his arms as if she was an invaluable jewel. Which she was,his precious jewel.

****

Tags : @vibishalakshman @thatacademic @thelekhikawrites @chiyaanvikram @ragalata @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @rang-lo

Thoughts??

[hellinglasses]

Hello!!! I am infinitely curious about all of these, but will restrain myself to two:

holiday shenanigans for polycules and mamas

that lilo and stitch au that grew out of my control

Thank you so much or playing!!!

@blackberrywars​ thank you so much for sending this and here is the holiday shenanigans part and also be welcome to that lilo and stitch au that grew out of my control!! we have found family and also regular family that is also quite close and a complete disregard from what tolkien would think of this!! it's fun!!

also it's important to say that this is heavily influenced by beloved fandom tropes in the silmarillion fandom i could not find to link the origin of, including that caranthir knits, the pointing out the implications of naming your son something that means third finwë (after you and your dad) when you got two younger brothers, realization that findekáno e kanafinwë are pretty much the same name, this particular take in caranthir's affinity for business

so we have melkor!! the story starts when he gets arrested for illegal scientific experimentation. he gets caught creating this creature, carcharoth, which in tolkien works is descibed as a werewolf but tragically involves very little were-ing. so of course, by all intents and purposes, we're treating it as a very large alien doggo with the sharpest teeth. said shap-toothed doggo has, in fact, escaped

melkor gets cut a deal, though: he can get a reduced sentence in a not-so-horrible intergalactic prison if he helps in the capture of his creation, which, as the tracking of the escape pod used is appointing, is headed to arda (which by all intents and purposes, we're treating like modern day earth)

are they sending melkor alone to arda to retrieve carcharoth? hell the fuck no, much like lilo and stitch, we're getting a pleakley to this jumba and it's going to be just as queer as it should!! meet mairon, he works for the galactic federation's office of singular affairs and he's responsible for seeing to it, quietly navigating arda's society in search for carcharoth and making sure melkor doesn’t escape

they share close quarters while working the case!! they have to share an apartment!! they will bicker constantly!! they will also flirt!!

which brings us to the finwëan family (and holy shit that's a lot of people)

for context, here's a simplified family tree!! (these are all elves and the ages are, for all intents and purposes, absolutely for the sake of this)

also, for further context!! fëanor is the son of finwë and miriel, fingolfin and finarfin are the sons of finwë and indis

this is a story about love before everything else

fëanor and nerdanel, his wife, died in a car accident. he was a welder and an artisan and she was a sculpture artist who worked from home. they sold their artistic work on the main street fair on sundays. she went pick him from his late friday shift as they got dinner on the way back

fëanor and his brother fingolfin had their disagreements but loved each other. sometimes they had energetic discussions at family gatherings, then laugh and hug it out. fëanor named maedhros nelyafinwë as a jab on his brother, fingolfin would forever accuse fëanor of stealing the name kanafinwë from him. they would needle each other in a warm, affectionate way and that would be a running joke in the family. they only fought seriously once, eight years ago, when finwë was dying and fëanor refused to sign the DNR order and fingolfin said he and finarfin remained loyal sons; fëanor punched his face in the waiting room. the fight lasted a year. finwë used to be the president of the neighborhood association, fingolfin filling in when his condition worsened. fëanor never had any interest in the association. they ran against each other that next election and it got increasingly ridiculous until they snapped, had a huge argument and made peace during a debate for the election. finarfin was getting increasingly frustrated since he was one of the major people to complain about the other for both of them

maedhros was 18 when his parents died and quits the local college so he can work full time to support his brothers. the expenses of keeping the seven of them fed and the bills paid are piling up and he is holding out so they don't have to sell the house

fingolfin is an english teacher and anairë, his wife, is a nurse. neither of them makes too much, but it’s enough to keep them afloat and have some savings. they have more than once asked maedhros for the fëanorions to move in with them. he doesn’t accept since he feels he can’t neither impose nor make his brothers go through selling the house where their parents lived

finarfin is a counselor at a nonprofit and eärwen is the swim team instructor. not wealthy by any means, but will pick up the kids after school and bring weekly casseroles for dinner with extra groceries

fëanor once joked finarfin and eärwen could have another kid so they would both be ahead on the total of kids count. fingolfin would then say that fëanor could have more kids, but he clearly had the brightest of the bunch. fëanor would reply that fingon has broken his arm at least three times in the last couple years. fingon would remind uncle fëanor that it was "four times in five years” and to “make sure to give him all the credit he deserves.” finrod would say, wisely, that “the year only really starts after finno breaks his arm.”

fingon is three months younger than maglor. has graduated high school and takes classes at the community college, studying to be a social worker. former president of the gsa. runs track competitions. works down the street from maedhros. will bring him coffee on his breaks and talk nonsense to him after a bad day

he also brings the fëanorions movies on sundays as maglor makes his godless sweet/salted popcorn. brings hard liquor in the middle of the night so the grown-ups drink it in the garden. will cheer louder than anyone at maglor's shows and they're also very close friends. does Sports™ with celegorm.

maglor has flunked his last year high school after the death of his parents, so he's still a senior and works when he can on afterschool or summer jobs, but maedhros won't let him neglect his studies to help him. sometimes has barely paying music gigs, which he loves

celegorm is a wholesome, chaotic himbo. is closest to aredhel and curufin. will help old ladies to carry their groceries and teach them slang. plays pranks on deserving teachers at school with aredhel. will punch assholes in the face while laughing. volunteers at a shelter. has had his enormous dog huan since he was 5. when he gets into college will study to be a vet

caranthir is an angry teenager picking fights at school and pushing people away. knits and embroiders and talked back to a teacher who wouldn’t let him bring needles to class since that’s the only way he can concentrate anyway. gets detention. is walking back home alone after and this weird looking, scary dog starts walking behind him. manages to befriend said scary dog and bring him home. maedhros figures he does seem happier than in months, and one more dog isn’t going to strain finances too much. is that a small rottweiler? an overtly angry doberman? maedhros has no idea

curufin adores science and maths. fëanor used to tutor him in those interests, and after his death his brothers teach themselves things so they can keep on teaching him but he's quickly surpassing them. will end older kids bothering him. skipped a grade and is in the same class as galadriel. they're best friends, she is the only person who can play chess with him and those two could probably take over the world together

turgon is the sweetest, awkwardest, most considerate person. wants to be a lawyer. writes articles on the students’ newspaper about the unequal funding of state schools and the drama club budget cuts while crushing heavily on editor in chief elenwë

aredhel is in the roller derby team and the women’s student union with haleth, morwen and lúthien. crushes on Morwen hopelessly and pretty much dies every time she does something really cool. helped organizing a protest against double standards on dress codes and sexualization of teenage girls where everyone came to school wearing shorts. celegrom wore shorts in support

argon is a theater kid

finrod is both that competent and popular to be president of the student council, with glorfindel as vice-president. total overachiever. doesn’t really know what he’s going to be doing with his life yet so collects interests like people collect shells on the beach. has literally joined all the clubs in school at some points and knows Everyone. turgon is exasperated every time they walk the halls together since a five minute corridor cross takes at least ten, as finrod will stop to talk to everyone that greets him. turgon reminds him he has class to attend. finrod will get in class late, smile angelically and not get in trouble for it. in college will be a undeclared major for awhile

angrod in swim team with his friend ecthelion

aegnor is a rebel against all authority except his mom. has no idea what he's doing and that seems to be his plan. fine if finrod wants to be the family overachiever, he wants to have fun. has a lot more in common with him than he realizes. he and caranthir run a forbidden snacks underground ring during school recess

galadriel is 12 and will win arguments with just about anybody. very perceptive

[thewordup]

https://youtu.be/-f4MUUMWMV4 PSALM 31:19-21 Lord, how wonderful you are! You have stored up so many good things for us, like a treasure chest heaped up and spilling over with blessings— all for those who honor and worship you! Everybody knows what you can do for those who turn and hide themselves in you. 20 So hide all your beloved ones in the sheltered, secret place before your face. Overshadow them by your glory-presence. Keep them from these accusations, the brutal insults of evil men. Tuck them safely away in the tabernacle where you dwell. 21 The name of the Lord is blessed and lifted high! For his marvelous miracle of mercy protected me when I was overwhelmed by my enemies. The goodness of God is infinitely more wonderful than we will ever be able to comprehend. Aiden Wilson Tozer

[reedreadsgreek]

3 John, 1–4

1 Ὁ πρεσβύτερος Γαΐῳ τῷ ἀγαπητῷ, ὃν ἐγὼ ἀγαπῶ ἐν ἀληθείᾳ. 

2 Ἀγαπητέ, περὶ πάντων εὔχομαί σε εὐοδοῦσθαι καὶ ὑγιαίνειν, καθὼς εὐοδοῦταί σου ἡ ψυχή. 3 ἐχάρην γὰρ λίαν ἐρχομένων ἀδελφῶν καὶ μαρτυρούντων σου τῇ ἀληθείᾳ, καθὼς σὺ ἐν ἀληθείᾳ περιπατεῖς. 4 μειζοτέραν τούτων οὐκ ἔχω χαράν, ἵνα ἀκούω τὰ ἐμὰ τέκνα ἐν ἀληθείᾳ περιπατοῦντα.

My translation: 

1 The elder to Gaius the loved one, whom I love in truth.

2 Loved one, concerning all things I ask you to be put on the right path and to be healthy, just as your soul is put on the right path. 3 For I rejoiced exceedingly while brothers were coming and testifying of your truth, just as you are walking in truth. 4 I do not have joy greater than these things, that I might hear my children walking in truth. 

Notes:

1:1 

ὁ πρεσβύτερος is a pendant nominative, or could be taken as the subject of an implied verb γράφω. 

Γαΐῳ (“Gaius”) is a dative of recipient. The articular adjective τῷ ἀγαπητῷ is attributive with Γαΐῳ (“the beloved Gaius”, NRSV, NASB; “my dear friend Gaius”, NIV, HCSB). 

The antecedent of the relative pronoun ὃν is Γαΐῳ. ὃν is the direct object of the present ἀγαπῶ (from ἀγαπάω) and ἐγὼ the emphatic subject. The verb is modified by the prepositional phrase ἐν ἀληθείᾳ (cf. 2 John 1), which is probably not equivalent to the adverb “truly” but refers to the community of God’s truth (CEV: “I love you because we follow the truth”). 

1:2 

ἀγαπητέ is substantival and vocative, from the adjective ἀγαπητός. 

εὔχομαι (7x) is, “I wish” (BDAG); most translations, “I pray” (cf. προσεύχομαι). 

The prepositional phrase περὶ πάντων (lit. “concerning all things”; NASB: “in all respects”; HCSB: “in every way”) modifies not εὔχομαι but the first or perhaps both infinitives below. 

εὐοδόω (4x), from εὐ + ὁδός, is literally in the passive, “I am put on the right path”, i.e., “having a prosperous journey”; eventually the ‘journey’ part faded from the meaning. BDAG: “I prosper, succeed”; NRSV, NIV, NET: “go well with”. The present passive infinitive εὐοδοῦσθαι indicates purpose with εὔχομαι above; σε is the accusative subject of the infinitive. Most translations render εὐοδόω as a subjunctive and take πάντων as the subject (“I pray that all may go well with you”, NRSV, NIV, NET). 

ὑγιαίνω (12x), is literally, “I am sound”; BDAG: “I am healthy”, from ὑγιής (12x) “healthy”. The present infinitive ὑγιαίνειν also indicates purpose with εὔχομαι above. 

Most translations take the adverb καθὼς in its normal comparative sense, taking Gaius’s spiritual health as a fact and praying that his physical health might be equally good. However, the same adverb in the next verse functions to introduces indirect discourse after a verb of speech, and thus may possibly here be effectively giving a third item of prayer after the two infinitives above. 

The subject of the present passive εὐοδοῦταί (from εὐοδόω; see above) is ἡ ψυχή; σου is possessive. 

1:3 

The 2nd aorist passive ἐχάρην (from χαίρω) is modified by the adverb λίαν (“exceedingly, very”; see note on 2 John 4). For the passive-voice, see note on 2 John 4. 

The present participles ἐρχομένων (from ἔρχομαι) and μαρτυρούντων (from μαρτυρέω) function as a genitive absolute with the genitive ἀδελφῶν. The present-tense indicates contemporanteous time (“While brothers came and bore witness”), or perhaps is iterative, referring to various brothers. After μαρτυρέω, the dative (τῇ ἀληθείᾳ) indicates the thing testified about. Translations make sense of σου τῇ ἀληθείᾳ (lit. “your truth”, NASB, NET) variously; BDAG: “the truth of your way of life”; NRSV, NIV, HCSB: “your faithfulness to the truth”. 

BDAG says καθὼς here introduces indirect discourse after a verb of speech (NASB, NRSV, NIV, HCSB: “how”). σὺ is the subject of the present περιπατεῖς (from περιπατέω), which is modified by the locative prepositional phrase ἐν ἀληθείᾳ. 

1:4 

μειζοτέραν is the comparative form of μέγας; τούτων is a genitive of comparison (“greater than these things”). μειζοτέραν is attributive with χαράν, which is the direct object of the negated present οὐκ ἔχω (“I have no greater joy”). 

The ἵνα clause is epexegetical of τούτων. The plural τούτων, pointing to a singular fact, may be due to an implied noun such as, “these sorts of reports”. 

The direct object of ἀκούω (pres. subj. after ἵνα) is τὰ τέκνα, modified by attributive possessive pronoun ἐμὰ. The present participle περιπατοῦντα is the complement to τὰ τέκνα in a double accusative construction after a verb of perception. The locative prepositional phrase ἐν ἀληθείᾳ modifies the participle.

[daenerysrey]

Maria fighting all season to know who is inside the coffin, because she knows it could be one of the 2 people that mean the most to her Kyle Micheal besides Liz and Rosa whom she knows max would save again, the way she was willing to jump off a building to see who it was and the way she got mad at Micheal because she knew if she asked him for help he wouldn’t so she kept doing whatever it takes to see who it was and after finding out it could be Micheal her bawling and feeling like she isn’t doing enough like she didn’t just jump of a freakin building for them! I really think maria was willing to risk her life again because she believed it was either Kyle or Micheal and you know how she feels about them especially Micheal when she in last season ran towards a bomb for Micheal, knowing it could kill her, Maria is doing all this for Micheal and Micheal is exploding with rage and y’all expect me to believe he’s not in love with her and that milcua isn’t endgame! yeah right you guys! other then his siblings Micheal only goes that psycho even against his own siblings when it comes to maria remember in s1 when max accused maria and miluca wasn’t even a thing yet? I really think that Micheal has been in love with Maria for years but never realized which explains why he always picked maria every single time over alex too even when they only dated few weeks he still chose her always and would keep doing it if maria didn’t breakup with him the one time that he didnt pick her!

also she was the only one looking for kyle and the only reason she was stopped was because of a coma, maria deluca and her infinite love for her friends and family that she dosent even hesitate to sacrifice her own life to save them every single time what a hero.

 MARIA DELUCA MY BELOVED PRINCESS I LOVE YOU SO much  

[bylagunabay]

Supplicatory Prayer to Mary

THE THIRTY DAYS’ PRAYER TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY IN HONOR OF THE SACRED PASSION OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST

(5 minutes to pray)

𝑩𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒃𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕. 𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒕.

ABYSS OF MERCIES AND BOUNTIES

“When you are about to pray to our Lady the Holy Virgin, be firmly assured, before praying, that you will not depart from her without having received mercy. To think thus and to have confidence in her is meet and right. She is, the All-Merciful Mother of the All-Merciful God, the Word, and her mercies, incalculably great and innumerable, have been declared from all ages by all Christian Churches; she is, indeed, an abyss of mercies and bounties.”

St. John of Kronstadt

THIRTY DAYS’ PRAYER

Ever Glorious and Blessed Virgin Mary, Queen of virgins, Mother of mercy, hope and comfort of dejected and desolate souls; through that sword of sorrow which pierced thy tender heart, whilst thine only Son, Christ Jesus, our Lord, suffered death and ignominy on the cross; through that filial tenderness and pure love He had for thee, grieving in thy grief, whilst from His cross He recommended thee to the care and protection of His beloved disciple, St. John—take pity, I beseech thee, on my poverty and necessities; have compassion on my anxieties and cares; assist and comfort me in all my infirmities and miseries.

Thou art the mother of mercies, the sweet Consolatrix and refuge of the needy and the orphan, of the desolate and the afflicted. Look, therefore, with pity on a miserable, forlorn child of Eve, and hear my prayer; for since, in just punishment of my sins, I am encompassed with evils, and oppressed with anguish of spirit. Whither can I fly for more secure shelter, O amiable mother of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, than to thy maternal protection?

Attend, therefore, I beseech thee, with pity and compassion, to my humble and earnest request.

I ask it through the infinite merits of thy dear Son; through that love and condescension wherewith He assumed our nature; when, in compliance with the Divine will, thou gavest thy consent; and whom, after the expiration of nine months, thou didst bring forth from the chaste enclosure of thy womb, to redeem the world and to bless it with His presence.

I ask it through that anguish of mind wherewith thy beloved Son, my dear Savior, was overwhelmed on Mount Olivet, when He besought the Eternal Father to remove from Him, if possible, the bitter chalice of His future passion.

I ask it through the threefold repetition of His prayer in the garden, from whence afterwards, with dolorous steps and mournful tears, thou didst accompany Him to the doleful theatre of His sufferings. I ask it through the stripes and wounds of His virginal flesh, occasioned by the cords and whips wherewith He was bound and scourged, when stripped of His seamless garment, for which His executioners afterwards cast lots.

I ask it through the scoffs and ignominies by which He was insulted; the false accusation and unjust sentence by which He was condemned to death, and which He bore with heavenly patience. I ask it through His bitter tears and bloody sweat; His silence and resignation; His sadness and grief of heart.

I ask it through the Blood which trickled from His royal and sacred Head, when struck with the sceptre of a reed and pierced with the crown of thorns.

I ask it through the excruciating torments He suffered when His hands and feet were fastened with large nails to the tree of the Cross.

I ask it through His vehement thirst and bitter drink of vinegar and gall.

I ask it through His dereliction on the cross, when He exclaimed “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

I ask it through His mercy extended to the good thief, and through His recommending His precious soul and spirit into the hands of the Eternal Father before He expired, saying, “All is finished.”

I ask it through the blood mixed with water, which issued from His sacred side when pierced with a lance, and from whence a flood of grace and mercy hath flowed upon us.

I ask it through His immaculate life, bitter Passion, and ignominious death on the Cross, at which nature itself was thrown into convulsions by the bursting of rocks, the rending of the veil of the Temple, the earthquake, and darkness of the sun and moon.

I ask it through His descent into hell, where He comforted the Saints of the Old Law with His presence and led captivity captive.

I ask it through His glorious victory over death, when He arose again into life on the third day; and through the joy which His appearance, for forty days after, gave thee, His blessed mother, His apostles, and the rest of His disciples; and when in thy presence and in theirs, He miraculously ascended into Heaven.

I ask it through the grace of the Holy Ghost, infused into the hearts of His disciples when He descended upon them in the form of fiery tongues, and by which they were inspired with zeal in the conversion of the world as they went forth to preach the Gospel.

I ask it through the awful appearance of thy Son at the last dreadful day, when He shall come to judge the living and the dead, and the world by fire.

I ask it through the compassion He bore thee in this life, and the ineffable joy thou didst feel at thine Assumption into Heaven, where thou art eternally absorbed in the sweet contemplation of His Divine perfections. O Glorious and Ever Blessed Virgin, comfort the heart of thy supplicant, and obtain for me:

[Here mention or reflect on your request.]

And as I am persuaded my Divine Savior honors thee as His beloved Mother, to whom He can refuse nothing, let me speedily experience the efficacy of thy powerful intercession, according to the tenderness of thy maternal affection, and His filial Sacred Heart, who mercifully grants the requests and complies with the desires of those who love and fear Him.

O Most Blessed Virgin, besides the object of my present petition, and whatever else I may stand in need of, obtain for me of thy Divine Son, our Lord and our God, a lively faith, firm hope, perfect charity, true contrition, hatred of sin, love of God and my neighbor, contempt of the world, and patience and resignation amidst the trials and afflictions of this life.

Obtain likewise for me, O Holy Mother of God, the gift of final perseverance and grace to receive the last Sacraments of the Church worthily at the hour of my death.

Lastly, obtain, I beseech thee, for the souls of my family, parents, brethren, relations, and benefactors, both living and dead, life everlasting. Amen.

[serpenteve]

Lmfao paste magazine did their best shows of 2021 so far and shadow and bone is number 5, I agree with a lot of their opinions usually and frankly the show was pretty decent if you don't think about its logic for more than 20 seconds and it was quite entertaining but top 5 of 2021 material? I highly disagree, the fantasy world which is a big draw and it's political landscape is just window dressing without any actual depth, the plot contrivances are too many to count, the illogical character decisions, the half baked main character ( how is it that she gets the most screentime but is the least developed out of the main characters, why do the crows feel more real and complex than her), the fact that your main female character in your show that revolves around her is so devoid of any depth or growth is a crime in itself. The show has so many problems but I feel like since we barely get any decent high fantasy shows, there were none before GOT and there still aren't more than 5 that have already come out, so people tend to overlook a lot of flaws, also they hilariously did an article about things to improve in S2 and one of them was the villain... Um, that dude was literally the most complex character in S1, the one who's backstory we got, the one whose decisions made sense for the actual goal he's trying to accomplish. I am a simp for female characters and it is so rare for me to latch onto a male one in my shows and I really wanted to love Alina but I felt like they put zero thought into who she is a person and she is instead defined by her relationships and what she represents to the male characters and the world as a whole, I feel like it she was a really strong lamp that was thought to be lost and then found and then someone stole her nothing would change? Like who is this woman? What are her dreams and motives and wants and needs and dislikes, what drives her, what scares her, how does she feel as a part of an oppressed group etc. Having your female character say a generic fake feminist line that makes no sense does not make a well written female character, they should honestly take a look at some other shows although there is still a severe lack in female rep especially poc and LGBTQIA women, there are some shows that are doing it so well and so effortlessly it makes everything else look tragic not just with one female character but with multiple, my favorite example is the expanse which has by s3, 4 main female characters all of them women of color, all of them interesting and vital to the story, one is a savvy political leader that does whatever is necessary but is also a grandmother who says fuck 50 Times a day, one is an extremely talented soldier that goes through an amazing character arc, one is a genius engineer that's part of the oppressed class in this world and she wants better for her people, another one from the same class is a badass second in command that also goes through amazing character development and she's queer, and almost every other important woman in this universe is a poc, mechanics, political rivals, leaders of social unrest, the only important white woman that was there for a season was a gay spiritual leader, like..... Not everything is perfect but I have never seen this level of diversity in a show and it's done so so well, like these women are almost all in my top list of favorite characters every one of them could lead a show on her own and then some. Here are a couple of articles about them if you're interested https://filmschoolrejects(dot)com/the-women-of-the-expanse/?amp and https://marvelousgeeksmedia(dot)com/2021/03/06/womens-history-month-celebrating-the-women-of-the-expanse/?amp. I'm so sorry idk how this turned into an expanse recommendation post 😂, I just see all of us desperate for some well written female characters as I watch sab butcher their most important one and I'm like... Eric and leigh should be forced to watch this before they write another word.

I really wanted to love Alina but I felt like they put zero thought into who she is a person and she is instead defined by her relationships and what she represents to the male characters and the world as a whole

It still surprises me when people watching the show say that Alina is a generic and ill-defined protagonist because she was about 100 times worse in the book 😂Like, it was only watching Jessie's performance that finally breathed some life into that character for me, to be honest. But everything else you've mentioned here 100% tracks with the source material.

Like, arguably the reason Alina gets shipped with literally everyone and gets accused to being a self-insert for fans is because she is so generically written. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed Bardugo intentionally wrote her this way to let fans step into her shoes and give her the largest appeal. Instead, we are left with a character that is incredibly passive. If you thought show!Alina was passive, hoooo boy, book!Alina is barely even a character, especially in the first book. The only thing Alina wants out of life is for Mal to love her and for them both to disappear from the plot---which, considering the conflict Bardugo has put her in, makes her highly unsympathetic and a frustrating protagonist to watch.

I saw the first season of the Expanse which is saying a lot because I pretty much *always* ditch TV shows ☠️I low-key hated Holden because he was such a generic White Man Protagonist™ but the other characters were infinitely more compelling (Chrisjen my beloved)!

[cassianus]

Trust Me when, for one reason or another, you take your distance from Me and no longer come to seek My Face in the Sacrament of My love, nor abide close to My Eucharistic Heart. If you do not come to Me, I will go out in search of you and bring you back to Myself, so that where I am, you also may be. Your absence is to Me a greater suffering than My absence is to you, and this because I love you more, and because My divine Heart is infinitely sensitive to the actions and choices of those upon whom I have set My love.

Mine it is to arrange things in such a way that those whose place is, by vocation, before My Eucharistic Face, should be compelled to return to it, even if I am obliged to go out in search of them and bring them back to the foot of My tabernacle, where all along I have waited for their return patiently, silently, and sorrowfully. I am the keeper and the guarantor of the vocation I have given you. Events and circumstances, sickness and distractions may interfere in your response to My call, but My call remains unchanged, and I will, in My own time, so arrange things that you will come back to Me, adoring Me with all your heart and responding to My Eucharistic love with a repentant and confident love of your own.

I do not judge you harshly, any more than the shepherd judges harshly the sheep that, in its stupidity, separated itself from the flock and lost its way. I see all the circumstances that come between Me and your desire to be with Me. I harbour no resentment in My Sacred Heart, nor do I hold a grudge against those who, because of human weakness, or ill health, or fatigue, find it difficult to honour their promise to abide in My presence often and even daily.

Life is not linear; it is made up of twists and turns, of detours and setbacks, of obstacles and of trials. It is the man who perseveres in coming to Me through all these things who comforts My wounded Heart by offering a worthy and costly love.

There is a kind of guilt that keeps souls far from Me—such guilt is the effect of a wounded pride, of a deep disappointment in one’s flawed self. Never succumb to the guilt that whispers: “Stay away. It is no use. There is nothing left here for you. You are incapable of the vocation you thought you heard. Accept your failure to live it and admit that you were deceived.” This is not My voice. It is rather the voice of the accuser who borrows all the voices of your past, still alive in your memory, and makes use of them to assault you with a barrage of lies that are calculated to bring you down and cause you to despair.

My voice is always one of comfort and of love, producing peace in the soul—even when My words are cutting, even when they pierce the heart like the surgeon’s scalpel. Trust, then, in My words to you, and close the ear of your imagination and heart to all else. I am He who comforts you, not the one who would assault you, accuse you, condemn you, and cast you out. I am the one who welcomes you with joy. I am the father delighted to see the face of his son and to hear his voice. I am the bridegroom who longs for the sweet company of his beloved bride. I am the friend who takes delight in the conversation of the friend whom he has chosen and to whom he has bound himself by a lasting pledge of friendship. Come to Me, then, without fear, for with Me you always find a divine welcome, a loving embrace, consoling conversation, and the courage to continue in the way of life that I have traced out for you.

In Sinu Jesu

[recurring-polynya]

Today’s AU suggestion comes from Tumblr user @missdramaqueensworld We had a bit of a back-n-forth, and I hope you don’t mind that I mushed a couple of your suggestions together into a Lighthearted Superheroes AU! Byakuya has always given me Big Bruce Wayne vibes, what with his extensive wealth and his flair for the overdramatic and his propensity for collecting orphans. I think I got the spirit of the thing (and, of course, the opening line!) I hope you like it!! (Note: I didn’t include the original prompt because it was very detailed and I didn’t want to give everything away, but please give credit to @missdramaqueensworld for all the good ideas and me for all the terrible superhero names)

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🦸    🌸    💥

“Hisana,” Byakuya called, as he contemplated the secret niche that was hidden behind the rear panel of his ancillary special occasion shoe closet. “Where is Senbonzakura?”

“Where’s what?” his beloved wife’s voice rang back.

Byakuya gritted his back teeth. “The mystical sword that has been passed down through twenty-eight generations of my family that allows me to fight crime as the mysterious hero Captain Sakura?”

Hisana leaned up against the doorframe of his closet. “Haven’t seen it. Where’s the non-mystical, yet very expensive tuxedo that allows you to escort me to the charity benefit that I’ve been planning for three months?”

“I am not joking, Hisana, I have a responsibility to the city!”

“That’s right, you do! You’re a charming and handsome philanthropist who is helping his beautiful wife raise piles of money for underprivileged children!”

Byakuya tried to rack his brain. Where could he have left the thing? “You know very well what I mean. The city is under attack by dark forces. Dark forces, Hisana!”

Hisana put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have sidekicks for this?”

“They do not like being called sidekicks, they are allegedly adults now. Besides, you are the one who told me to stop bothering them so much. They have their own lives now, you said.” Which vehicle had he used last? The Sakura Bike? The Sakura Jet? He didn’t think it was the Sakura Jet-Ski, but honestly, all of last week was just blurring together.

“They can have their own lives on nights when I don’t have a charity benefit,” Hisana hissed.

Wait. He’d had that unfortunately team-up with the Great Desert Brothers (or were they calling themselves Phantom Thief NelDoPe again?) and he’d had to spend a great deal of time cleaning “Infinite Slick” off of Senbonzakura afterwards. The sword was probably on his workbench down in the Sakura Cave. Byakuya turned and attempted to exit his own closet, only to find his way blocked by the one opponent he had never truly bested: his 4’11”, stunningly beautiful and amazingly brilliant wife. “Excuse me,” he said.

“Excuse you?” Hisana asked, her eyes wide with false innocence. “You are not going down to the Sakura Cave.”

“I am going to the Sakura Cave.”

“You’re going down to the Sakura Cave because you’re going to drive us to the charity benefit in the pink Lambo, right?”

Byakuya regarded her. “The Sakuramobile is for official Captain Sakura business only. You are welcome to take the Aventador or the Huracan if you like.”

Hisana threw her hands out at her sides. “Byakuya. Look at me.”

Byakuya looked. Respectfully, of course. His wife was clad in a form-fitting navy blue sheath that flared just below her knees. From the front, the neckline was high and modest, but he knew for a fact that it swept low, exposing nearly the whole of her back. Her hair was swept up into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. An array of tiny diamond hairpins shone like stars among the night sky of her tresses. Her makeup, as always, was impeccable, from her silvery smokey eye to the kissable red of her lips.

“Imagine!” she wailed. “Me! Walking through those huge doors at the Museum of Contemporary Art. By myself! To my own fundraiser!”

“I can imagine it,” Byakuya agreed. “You will turn every head in the room. That cad, Kuchiki, they will say. The fool. He knows not what he has.”

Hisana narrowed her eyes at him.

“The most beautiful woman in Seireitei City, for once, away from the overprotective glare of her impossibly handsome husband.”

Hisana rolled her eyes.

“You will have the undivided attention of every man in the room and more than a few of the women. They will be elbowing each other out of the way for the merest crumbs of your regard. And you, being you, should no doubt be able to spin these tragic circumstances into a positively dizzying pile of donation checks. That should make the orphans very happy, yes?”

Hisana’s face was screwed up into a lovely scowl, as her desire for his company warred with her love for parting cretinous billionaires from their walking-around money. Byakuya didn’t blame her, of course. She was a very patient and understanding woman to so frequently part from her charming and debonair husband in the best interests of Justice. Nevertheless, the city needed him at this desperate hour.

“And I promise,” Byakuya continued, lowering his eyelids seductively, “that I shall sweep in before the night concludes, to rebuke those fools who would ever doubt my devotion to you.”

The tip of Hisana’s nose twitched. He had her.

“You have to show up at the dedication of the new community center.”

“Of course I would show up--”

“In the costume.”

Byakuya’s jaw tightened. “Hisana.”

“Captain Sakura is the third most popular superhero among children aged 7 to 12.”

“Third! I used to be second!” Byakuya had an angry suspicion whom he had been overtaken by.

“Used to be,” Hisana replied. “Maybe you should think about making more personal appearances. And flex more. I hear that children love flexing.” Dammit, this further confirmed his suspicions.

Byakuya heaved a sigh. “Fine. I will show up and charm the little rapscallions. I will not ‘flex.’ Please, may I go now?”

Hisana gracefully stepped to one side. “Good luck. Stay safe.” She touched his arm gently as he swished past, and went up on her tiptoes to bring her face closer to his. “And check the umbrella stand in the front hall. That’s where your magic sword was last time.”

Captain Sakura alighted on the rooftop of Metropolitan Bank with the grace of a drifting flower petal. A large hole cratered the bitumen and the smell of C-4 hung unpleasantly in the air. Below, police sirens wailed and sirens cast blue and red reflections. Also, there was bickering.

“Are you sure he can breath in there?”

“I am a professional, of course he can breathe! You don’t believe me? I’ll trap you in a block of ice!”

“I never said I didn’t believe you, I just-- hey, look who’s here! Good to see you, Captain!”

Byakuya crossed his arms over his chest. “Yuki-onna. Sakura Boy.”

Yuki-onna, Mistress of the Ice and Snow, groaned. “You know very well he goes by Red Ronin now.”

Sakura Boy looked very much like he was biting his tongue as he tapped his massive whip-sword on his shoulder.

“Who was the perpetrator?” Byakuya asked, squinting inside the block of ice.

“That toothy bastard, Preying Mantis,” Sakura Boy supplied.

“He is one of the Ten Espada, you know, they often travel in--”

“We caught his dweeby sidekick downstairs, the police already have him,” Rukia replied. “We already swept the premises. You really didn’t need to come out.”

“It is bad enough,” Byakuya bit off, “that you two refused to take a honeymoon. You are supposed to be on a… a whatsit…” he waved one hand vaguely. “A stay-cation?”

“Eh, it’s not like we have hobbies,” Renji added, poking the block of ice with his sword.

“And aren’t you supposed to be raising money? For underprivileged children?” Rukia accused.

“I will be making a dramatically late entrance,” Byakuya snapped.

“Well,” Renji frowned philosophically, “as long as you’re here, can you help us figure out how to get this guy down to the ground?”

Children. You could raise them, give them their own utility belt, teach them to drive a jet ski, but they would still ask for your help in moving a seven-foot-tall mantis man trapped in a block of ice.

“Of course,” Byakuya agreed.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 5 - It Was You

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Just when Hermione thought nothing worse could plague her than her constant nightmare, she has a very different kind of dream. How is she ever going to look Ronald in the face again? All she wanted was to do well in her classes, get S.P.E.W. off the ground, and finally get a good nights sleep.

Fred continues to find himself more than amazed at the infinite facets of Hermione Granger.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: A second update this week because I like you guys so much! :) 

I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 4

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Moments fall like crimson nights Some stick to my skin tonight Take a breath and shake them off Eyes ahead, don't you wait too long

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“If I have to write one more word about the goblin rebellions, I think I might off myself.” Ron threw down his quill, ink splotching across this parchment, and let his head fall into his hands.

“Be careful. If you do, I guarantee Professor Trelawney will say she predicted it all along because Venus was in retrograde and you’re a Pisces,” Harry responded flatly, resulting in a smile from Ron.

Hermione would never admit it, but she secretly agreed with Ron. While not quite as distressed as her ginger friend, she did find the weekly essays assigned by Professor Binns tedious and incredibly lacking in challenge. Perhaps she found the whole thing tiresome because she already knew everything there was to know about the goblin rebellions, but it also didn’t help that the ghostly professor was about as exciting as an old shoe.

“Hermione…” Ron drew out her name like he had just come to an idea. Hermione, very familiar with this tone, knew exactly what his idea was.

“No,” she responded sternly, scribbling away at her own parchment about the various defense tactics utilized by the goblins.

“Pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase?”

She sighed. “I will edit and revise Ronald Weasley, and nothing more.”

“You’re the best, honestly.” Ron grinned and picked up his quill again, dipping it in his ink and scribbling away with renewed energy. His stupid grin made Hermione smile and roll her eyes before returning to her own essay. While she wished that Ron and Harry could just do their own work themselves, she did realize that not everyone had the discipline that she had. However, that didn’t mean she had to stop trying to get them to work harder. She knew for a fact that their potential far exceeded their marks.

They worked in silence for a while, the scratching of quill on parchment and shuffle of students walking past filling Hermione’s ears as her brain turned over, pulling out fact after fact.

In a blazing sense of pride, she finished her last sentence, tying her conclusion together perfectly, and placed her quill down on the table. At the click, both Ron and Harry looked over to her with wide eyes of disbelief.

“You’re finished already?” gaped Harry.

“I’ve barely gotten three paragraphs written. How can you possibly be finished already?!” exclaimed Ron. Hermione shushed him, glancing over at Madame Pince’s disapproving glare.

“Some of us, Ronald, utilize our time efficiently,” Hermione responded coolly as she placed her things back into her bag. She didn’t bother mentioning that she spent her last three hours in the library as opposed to their meager thirty minutes, or that she took her break after morning Transfiguration to study as well. Her eyes itched from staring at off-white pages and black script and for once she finished all her work and read ahead in all her classes. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was attending five less classes than the previous year.

There was also the small fact that she no longer slept. Nearly a month into school and she still barely slept four hours a night. When panic inducing nightmares weren’t causing her to toss and turn, she was studying. And when she wasn’t studying, she was working on her new endeavor – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, otherwise known as S.P.E.W. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup and the horrid treatment of Winky, the house elf, she knew she had to do something. This became even more clear when she found out Hogwarts was run almost entirely on house elf labor. In all her years never did she imagine that her beloved school used essentially slavery to cook and clean. It was wrong. It was barbaric. One would assume that in a world filled with magic, where one was only limited to the bounds of one’s imagination, they would be a bit more progressive. Unfortunately, though, it seemed to be the opposite. In fact, Hermione had never met a group of people so routed in their ways as the wizarding world. Of course, it would be foolish to assume that an entire world would be impermeable to prejudices when the muggle world was not.

Therefore, where all of her time was normally spent in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron or watching the Gryffindor quidditch team practice on the pitch, she now spent it nose deep in a book or attempting to recruit new S.P.E.W. members. Her absence had not gone unnoticed – in fact, it became so blatantly clear that Harry confronted her outright between Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.  

“I don’t understand Hermione, is it something I’ve done?” Harry ran a hand through his unruly locks, distress obvious on his face.

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Harry,” Hermione picked at her nails, feeling uncomfortable.

“Was it, Ron? I’m sure whatever he said, he didn’t mean it.” Hermione ignored the grating irritation at Harry’s blind defense of Ronald.

“No, it’s not Ron.”

“Then what? Come on Hermione, you know you can tell me anything.”

Hermione looked at her best friend and sighed. His kind eyes shone from behind his round spectacles with sincerity and concern.

“I’m not avoiding you or Ron. I’m just stressed about our O.W.L.s next year—" she paused “—You can never be too prepared, and I need to do well on them.”

Harry looked at her with a confused expression, “Hermione, they’re not for another year! Are you seriously stressing over something so far away?”  

“Yes? No? I guess…I guess I’m just used to studying all the time. You know, what with the time-turner last year and all. And then of course there’s S.P.E.W. No one seems to care at all that these poor elves are being worked day and night without any pay. I mean, it’s horrendous!” Hermione half-lied, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. She wanted to be honest with Harry, but she didn’t know how. The real reason felt stupid. What was she to say? Sorry I’ve thrust myself into my work more than ever Harry; I just can’t stop having nightmares about something that happened nearly two months ago and I’m trying to distract myself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, “I get it.”

“You do?” His remark caught her off guard as she wasn’t even sure if she understood it.

“You’re an absolute swot. Don’t get me wrong, we all love that about you, but you need to learn when to relax and have some fun,” Harry finished with a grin.

“You prat—” Hermione hit his arm with the back of her book “—Don’t call me a swot. But you’re right. I need balance.”  

“And I guess as appointed Secretary of S.P.E.W., I could do a bit more for the cause.”

Hermione lit up at the words. “Really? Oh Harry, thank you so much! I’m making more buttons tonight, maybe you could help me? Then tomorrow we can try and canvas some of the other houses for new members!”

“Well, if you’re so efficient, you should be able to help me finish mine!” argued Ron desperately, bringing Hermione back to the present.

“Ronald, I told you before. I’m not doing your assignment for you. You have to learn it on your own,” she whispered.

“When am I ever going to need to know about all the goblin leaders? Besides, you like doing this sort of stuff.”

“Ronald, I said n—”

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

Merlin, Hermione thought at the sound of unified voices. Rolling her eyes, she turned to see Fred and George standing behind her.

“Hey Fred, hey George,” Harry greeted them cheerfully, placing his quill down – happy for an excuse to stop working.

“Hullo Harry,” they responded in unison.

“Any progress on entering our names for the tournament?” Ron asked expectantly. Much to Hermione’s disproval, Fred and George promised him a try at whatever they whipped up as soon as they knew it was successful, and Ron had not stopped talking about it.

“We’re nearly there,” George grinned.

“So, we’ll know in about two days whether it works or not,” said Fred, leaning against a bookshelf casually. Two days? Hermione thought with alarm. Was it really the 29th of October already? That meant the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, the other competing schools, were to arrive tomorrow evening! She needed to go back to her dormitory and rework her schedule. She had no room to pencil in excitement and new student arrival that week. She opened her planner to begin revising.

“How confident are you that it’ll work?” asked Ron, leaning forward in excitement.

“Extremely,” the twins answered.

Hermione let out an indecent snort and rolled her eyes again. Fools.

“Something you’d like to add Granger?” asked George, looking over at her.

“Yes, hullo to you also. So nice of you to acknowledge us in a friendly manner,” accused Fred sarcastically.

“I think some lessons are best learned through experience, rather than lecture,” said Hermione, carefully picking her words before tucking her planner into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“But you love to lecture us, are you sure you aren’t raring to tell us how wrong we are?” asked Fred, fluttering his eyelashes sweetly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, “Please. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“A lost cause? You hear that Georgie? We’re a lost cause.”

“I don’t know…sounds to me like she’s just afraid of a challenge Freddie.”

“It’s not a challenge if all I’m doing is slowly melting my brain trying to reason with the pair of you,” scoffed Hermione.

“Oh, I can melt your brain just fine, if that’s what you’d like,” stated Fred, stepping forward cockily.

“Is your wit really so primitive that you have to resort to sexual innuendo all the time?” Hermione asked, her heart rate picking up in her chest as their conversation turned more heated.

“Sexual innuendo? I have no idea what you’re referring to Granger. I was merely saying I might be smarter than you think. Are you sure you aren’t projecting a bit there?”

“You’re a child,” Hermione bit back, feathers ruffled that Fred seemed to be over his initial shock response to her comebacks and instead was meeting her beat for beat. His eyes held a shine to them as he smiled down at her in excitement.

“Resorting to name-calling now? I thought higher of you,” sighed Fred, tapping the end of her nose condescendingly. Hermione batted his hand away, feeling her hair begin to crackle. She was getting too upset. She needed to calm down and show him that she was better than him.

Taking a small, calming breath, she straightened her posture before replying, “That doesn’t surprise me Frederick. I’m sure it’s easy to think highly of me when your potential is so low.”

Hermione took that moment to make her exit. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the library, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. A warm flush covered her face and bled down her neck as she scurried through the halls. Adrenaline pumped through her system. Despite his ample fight, she felt quite confident that she won the battle. His lack of biting response as she left, supported as much. Departing before he could speak might have been a cheap way to go about it, but she reasoned there was no clean way to fight when it came to the Weasley twins. A small giggle bubbled up in her chest as she replayed the conversation in her head. Invigorated by the whole event, she ran the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower. Rounding corners and sprinting up staircases, exhaustion filled her small frame by the time she came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her lungs ached from the exercise and her shoulder and back ached from the heavy books weighing her bag down. She gasped the password through pants and entered as she tried to catch her breath. Fellow Gryffindors cast odd looks in her direction as she scurried up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, but she didn’t care. Her room was empty and for that she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was a forced conversation with Lavender or Pavarti. Perhaps the physical exertion would act as a sleeping agent and she would finally fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. Best to ride the wave and go to bed while I’m still tired¸ she thought. Sluggishly, she changed out of her uniform and crawled into bed. Nagging thoughts tugged at the back of her mind, telling her to brush her teeth, but the exhaustion in her body told her to sleep. Ultimately her body won, and sleep took over.

Hermione’s mind swam the next day as she sat in double potions with the Slytherins. It was nearing the end of class and Professor Snape was taking the time to explain to them why their potions had been improperly brewed in one way or another. Hermione’s hadn’t of course, but that didn’t stop him from berating her for being an ‘insufferable little know-it-all’, and then accusing her of helping any student that didn’t manage to burn a hole in their cauldrons. She diligently took notes as Snape droned on and on, but her mind failed to connect to the words she was writing down on the parchment. All thoughts and worries were currently focused on an embarrassing personal crisis. The dream.

While Hermione thought nightmares were the worst thing, she could possibly endure in her sleeping state, she had to admit she had been wrong. No, apparently there was something much, much worse stewing in her brain waiting for vulnerable unconsciousness to leap out and take form.

She had been in the library, wandering through the sections of towering shelves when she appeared in a section, she was unfamiliar with. Turning a corner her eyes grew wide at the sight of two older students locked in an intimate embrace. Her heart started to race, and her breathing began to pick up as she felt a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to leave but found herself unable to move – her feet glued to the floor. That’s when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a pair of lips kissing up her neck. Her hands went up, one grabbing at the fingers that dug roughly into her flesh and the other threading itself through long thick hair. She turned her head only to see that the hair between her fingers was a brilliant shade of ginger. The realization was so shocking to her that she awoke from her dream, sitting ramrod straight – heart pounding, sweat-slicked, and breathing heavily.

Her face blushed just thinking about it. Turning her head casually to the right, she spied one of her best friends. Ronald Weasley sat next to Harry, slumped forward in his seat, head resting in his hand. His long hair hung way past his eyes, concealing them completely. Hermione, knowing Ron, would bet on her life that they were closed, and he was verging on sleep. She knew he wasn’t fully asleep though, because if he were there would be loud snores coming from his direction. Him. He was the one her mind decided to fantasize about. Why? She studied him, her eyes tracing the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t bad looking; she always quite liked his hair and pale complexion. He had a kind heart and could be quite charming when he wanted to be, the problem was that rarely did he want to be. He could be quite cruel and insensitive without knowing it, and he didn’t care for much other than Quidditch. Is that really what she wanted in a partner? Hermione scoffed at her mental ramblings. Here she was, wondering if Ronald Weasley were her potential first love without considering that he would probably never be interested in her. After all, her hair was a bushy, frizzy mess, her teeth were far too big for her mouth, and her otherwise plain features left much to be desired. Not to mention her overall swotty personality. Still, hadn’t he told her that she was ‘the best’? And he certainly didn’t mind being her friend. What if he did like her?

“Miss Granger, is there something on Mr. Weasley’s face that’s so interesting that you cannot be bothered to pay attention?” The sound of Professor Snape’s voice brought Hermione out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find all eyes on her. The Slytherins snickered around her, and Ron and Harry looked at her in surprise. Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“No Professor, my apologies,” she mumbled, looking down at her notes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s lack of interest. Class dismissed,” snipped Professor Snape as he turned towards his office. Hermione packed her bag and exited the classroom as quickly as possible.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, him and Ron catching up to her with ease.

“Sorry guys, I got lost in thought and didn’t realize where I was looking. I guess I should have been paying attention,” Hermione stammered, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“No problem Hermione. Snape’s a git and no one blames you. I was almost asleep near the end there too,” Ron piped in with a friendly smile. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“Thanks Ronald.” She smiled back.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of love birds, boys,” Draco Malfoy sneered as he came up beside them. “When’s the wedding? I’m sure it’ll be just lovely, or at least as lovely as five knuts’ll get you.”

Hermione scowled at the silver-hair bully, with all his sharp pointed features and disgustingly greasy demeanor, as he laughed along with his goons. She rolled her eyes and grabbed both Harry and Ron by the arm, leading them on towards the front of the castle. Ridiculous. That’s what she was being. It was ridiculous to waste her time worrying about some absurd dream when that’s all it was – a dream. Besides, she didn’t know for certain it was Ron who she dreamed about. There were plenty of red heads in the world.

Outside the main entrance they found Ginny next to Neville in a crowd of students.

“Did we miss anything?” asked Ron, looking excitedly about.

“Nothing yet, you’ve made it just in time I think!” Ginny exclaimed in glee. The castle was in a fit of excitement. Even the Slytherins, who didn’t find much joy in anything school related, seemed to be chomping at the bit for their guests to arrive and the Triwizard Tournament to finally take off. Hermione, too, was excited but more at the thought of getting to meet students from other magical schools. She had taken the liberty of reading as much as she could on the histories of both Durmstrang and Beauxbaton and was informing Ginny on their key similarities and differences when several gasps and shouts erupted around them.

“Look!” Ginny yelled, pointing up at the sky above them. Hermione followed her finger upwards to see a large horse-drawn carriage flying through the clouds, pulled by a dozen flying horses the size of elephants. She watched as they soared through the air, their wings pumping up and down in synchronization. The size of the horses was comparable to what they were pulling, for as it got closer, Hermione estimated the carriage to be at least twice the size of her home back in Hampstead. The carriage floated prettily, a pale cream embellished with pastel blue designs and gold trim. Obviously of French provincial style, she concluded that this was clearly the Beauxbaton students. So enthralled by the ornate and bordering ostentatious carriage and the horses pulling it, Hermione failed to notice heads turning and mouths gaping at the Black Lake. In fact, her gaze only broke away from the magnificent beasts when Ron elbowed her from behind. She turned to scold him, but caught her tongue when she noticed a daunting, black ship floating on the lake. It rocked back and forth, sending large waves crashing away from it on the usually glass-smooth surface. Hermione thought it very much resembled what happened when you dropped a large rock into a pond and wondered how it got there. Someone was sure to tell her later – there were plenty of witnesses.

“Way to make an entrance!” exclaimed Ron, followed by loud whoops and cheers as he clapped.

“A bit flashy, if you ask me,” Pansy Parkinson sniffed from a nearby group of Slytherins.

“She’s one to talk,” Hermione mumbled under her breath.

“Hah!” a boisterous laugh sounded behind her. Hermione swiveled and caught a pair of hazel eyes looking at her.

Fred leaned towards her. “Nice one Granger,” he complimented over the babble of conversation around them. His warm breath fell on her neck, all too reminiscent of her dream. Her body jerked to attention, heat creeping up her face before she smiled politely and turned away from the older boy.

“They’re coming up to the entrance!” Seamus Finnigan announced. Hermione thanked Merlin for the distraction and looked down the path leading to the front of the castle. Sure enough, there was a large group of individuals walking towards them. As they neared, the Hogwarts students cheered and applauded them, trying to welcome the foreign students like Professor Dumbledore advised. Hermione clapped softly as the first students approached. A tall and unsettling man led the group. His dark hair, speckled with bits of silver, sat heavy on his head, slicked back from his angular face. The sharp features and the long, grey goatee gave him an ominous appearance fueled even further by the deep scowl set into his mouth and piercing black eyes. He wore midnight black robes paired with a brilliantly white fur pelt over his shoulders. Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster of Durmstrang. The students behind him wore robes of deep crimson, the color sharing an eerie resemblance to the color of blood. Like their headmaster, they too donned thick furs to fight the crisp cold, only theirs held a rich color of brown. They looked incredibly warm. Subconsciously, Hermione pulled her wool robes closer around her as a strong breeze blew around them.

“Bloody hell! It’s him!” Ron shouted, his voice taking on a hysterical tone.

“Who?” asked Harry.

“Victor Krum! It’s Victor Krum! Right there in the front!” Ron pushed himself forward and past Hermione to get a better look at the famous Quidditch player coming towards them. With Ron’s tall figure in front of her, she failed to confirm whether the Bulgarian seeker truly lead the group of Durmstrang students. Ron’s excitement only increased as the visiting students got closer and then passed them into the castle.

“Ronald! I can’t see!” Hermione pounded lightly on Ron’s back with her fists until he snapped out of his star struck trance. The ginger boy turned around, a sheepish grin across his face.

“Sorry about that Hermione. Here.” Awkwardly, Ron shifted over and led Hermione to the front by her waist. For the second time that afternoon a Weasley boy reminded her of her dream, Ron’s touch all too like the arms that held her sensually the night before. She took a small step forward, putting distance between herself and Ron’s grasp. The students from Beauxbaton were the next to make their way down the path. The crowd gawked at the elegant French students as they walked poised and beautiful down the cobblestone in their blue silk uniforms. Hermione, on the other hand couldn’t help but find them annoying. They shivered and chattered their teeth in such an exaggerated manner and looked up at the castle with such disgust and judgement that she immediately took a disliking to them.

“For Merlin’s sake! It’s not that cold,” Hermione groaned as the boys and girls huddled together for warmth. Hermione thought them incredibly rude and found it idiotic that they did not think to wear warmer robes. However, someone in their party evidently had sense, as their headmistress sauntered up the path in a heavy shawl, completely unbothered by the cold. Although, Hermione wasn’t sure anything could bother the woman as she stood twelve feet tall and sturdy. A neutral expression, bored some might even call it, covered her face and despite her size, she too glided gracefully across the ground. As they walked past, Hermione could hear little bits and pieces of snide remarks from the Beauxbaton students. Apparently, they thought Hogwarts would be much nicer than it was. Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She assumed that as guests, they would have much better manners.

“Honestly, can you believe that rubbish?” Hermione exclaimed, turning to Ron and Harry behind her. Instead of meeting commiserating sentiments like she expected, the pair continued to stare at the Beauxbaton students until they disappeared completely into the castle. Their mouths hung open widely, making them look quite dumb, and Hermione turned to Ginny with a questioning look. Ginny shrugged, also confused over her brother and Harry’s behavior.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the pairs’ faces.

“Hullo! Are you two listening to me?” she asked, frowning.

“Bloody hell, did you see her?” Ron asked, in more of a trance than when he saw Krum.

“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily.

“See who?” Hermione questioned. What was wrong with them? They hadn’t acted like this since…oh goodness. Not since the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Ahhhh it seems our poor baby brother has fallen victim,” George stated woefully, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She looked up at him and then back down at his hand.

“Why are you fine?” she asked, shrugging off his hand.

“Oh, Alicia and Angelina were sure to snap us out of it,” Fred stated, then placing his hand on her shoulder.

“And how exactly did they do that?” She raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his hand as well.

“Like this!” the twins shouted before reeling back and smacking both Harry and Ron in the back of the head. The two fourth year Gryffindors yelled out in pain, grasping at their heads before spinning around and glaring at Fred and George.

“What the hell was that for?!” Harry barked.

“You were drooling mates,” George smirked.

“And it’s time to go back in,” Fred pointed behind them at the entrance to the castle where most of the students were filing through already.

They followed the crowd back into the castle and through the corridor into the Great Hall. It seemed the Durmstrang students took a special liking to the Slytherins as almost all of them were seated at their table. The Beauxbaton students seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table, much to Ronald’s disdain. And it was Ronald’s unhappiness that also fueled Hermione’s sore mood as well. Silently she ate her dinner and watched as Ron fawned and drooled and ogled the girls from Beauxbaton for the entirety of the night. When a particularly pretty one approached their table asking him for the bouillabaisse, Ron was left speechless.

“Honestly, Ronald. She’s just a girl. You know, like every other girl in this school. Including myself,” Hermione tried to reason with him.

Eyes still trained on the French beauty, Ron responded with incredulity, “That’s ridiculous Hermione. She’s no girl. That right there is a woman. Leagues above any girl here at Hogwarts.”

A woman? What did that even mean? She was only a few years older than Hermione. She didn’t even look that much older. Hermione turned her attention back to the food on her plate and found that she had lost her appetite. So instead, she pulled a book from her bag and buried herself behind it, slowly sinking lower into her seat as the night went on. She missed the moment they revealed the cup that competitors were to put their name in, too engrossed in the words on the page, and when dinner was over, she was the first to leave the Great Hall. Only, she didn’t head straight for the common room like she usually did. Instead, her feet carried her through the castle until she found herself in the library once again. As she seated herself in her favorite corner, she was reminded of something Professor Trelawney had said her third year. ‘Oh you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.’

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another potion successfully made brother.” Fred grinned, stretching the muscles in his neck and back.

Fred and George Weasley currently sat in an abandoned classroom as they finished the answer to all their problems. Well past curfew, the pair had just filled two vials with the clear aging potion and capped them triumphantly.

“I’d say that one was particularly easy, wouldn’t you?” George replied, standing up.

“As easy as beating Percy in a game of wits.”

“Off to bed then?”

“Actually, I think I may pop down to the kitchen and grab myself a bite to eat. Clean up here?” Fred asked, motioning around the room. The classroom was their own personal haven; tucked away in an old corner of the castle that few ventured it was their go-to space for all their inventing and brewing needs. It was only thanks to their time with the Marauder’s Map that they knew about it.

“Yeah. See you in the morning Freddie.” George waved goodbye as Fred exited the classroom and headed down towards the kitchens. The low light of the hallway candles washed the castle in a soft glow that contrasted with the icy chill of nighttime. The castle was always cold at night. However, the frigid temperature didn’t bother Fred Weasley as much as usual that night. He was far too excited to be bothered by much of anything, really. Tomorrow was the big day. They were going to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire, and it was going to be glorious. Fred had no idea if one of them would even be picked to compete, but just the idea of winning the prize money was enough to keep a spring in his step and a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

He kept quiet as he tip-toed through the halls, just in case Filch was lurking around corners. Turning down the last corridor he was surprised to see, not the scraggly old Mr. Filch, but the familiar figure of a bushy-haired fourth year. Hermione Granger stood in front of a picture on the wall, the torches in front of her illuminating her and making her hair glow like an ethereal halo.

“Hermione?”

She spun around, glancing back and forth, looking like a frightened animal. Fred stepped closer, out of the shadows so she could see him more clearly. He watched her relax, her shoulders dropping from her ears and slumping forward. She laughed lightly.

“Merlin’s beard, Frederick! You scared me!” Hermione exclaimed with an edge of relief in her voice.

“Shhhh!” Fred hushed her, rushing forward, and covering her mouth with his hand. “Do you want to wake the whole castle with your yelling or just Filch in particular?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. She stiffened beneath him, the two of them silently listening for any signs of Filch or his wretched cat, Mrs. Norris. When Fred failed to hear anything, he let out a breath of relief and looked down at the little witch in his arms. Suddenly he was awash with the memory of the last time the two of them had been that close. The night in the forest when they were hiding for their lives. He removed his hand and stepped back.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. I was coming back from the library and decided to go for a bit of a walk,” whispered Hermione, looking up at him under the glowing light of the torches. “How are we going to get back to the tower without being seen?”  

“Simple. I know a shortcut. Come on.” Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her along with him down the corridor. Her hand was small and cold but fit surprisingly well in his own. His stomach growled, and mournfully he thought of the late-night snack he originally set out to get. He continued down the halls at a quick pace until they reached the tapestry he had been looking for. Tapping his wand five times at its center, he pulled back the tapestry to reveal a hidden passageway. He let go of Hermione’s hand and the two slipped behind the tapestry, letting it fall back into place behind them.

“Lumos,” Fred spoke softly, lighting the dark space with the tip of his wand.

“Amazing, this must be one of the secret passageways on the Marauders’ Map,” marveled Hermione.

They made their way down the narrow passage, taking up a leisurely pace, not feeling the pressure of getting caught by Filch or his cat. The shuffling of their feet on the cold stone filled the silent space around them as they climbed up stairways and weaved around corners. As they walked, a nagging thought pricked at the back of Fred’s mind until he couldn’t help but voice it.

“So, walks about the castle past curfew. I didn’t take you for the type Granger,” Fred teased. Hermione let out a loud and vulgar scoff. Fred turned, looking down at her incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The young witch lifted her chin in indignation, “What sort of type did you take me for?”

Fred shrugged, “You know, the good girl type. Doesn’t get into trouble. Doesn’t break rules. Perfect Prefect material.”

“I’ll have you know I break plenty of rules.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s Harry or Ron’s idea,” pressed Fred, hoping to goad her into revealing something he didn’t already know.

“That’s not true!” She turned her head and glared at him.

“No, don’t believe it.” Fred shook his head.

“Well, believe it because it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah, tell me one rule that you’ve broken that wasn’t Harry or Ron’s idea.” He glanced at the younger witch out of the corner of his eye. Her brows were scrunched together, her pink lips pouting as she thought. Then her face opened in excitement, eyebrows lifting and mouth opening, revealing her large front teeth below her upper lip.

“In first year, it was my idea for Harry to sneak into the restricted section of the library over Christmas holiday,” she stated proudly.

“That doesn’t count! You only thought of the idea; you made Harry do all the dirty work,” countered Fred.

“Alright, in second year I brewed Polyjuice in the girl’s lavatory and nicked lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s office to do it,” said Hermione triumphantly as they reached the end of the passageway, coming out the other side right next to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione spun around, crossing her arms in front of her as she waited for his response.

“Who’d have thought that the Hermione Granger was such a delinquent,” praised Fred, grinning widely. He was truly impressed. He had no idea that the bright little witch had it in her to steal from a teacher.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. “That’ll teach you to underestimate me, Frederick Weasley,” she stated coolly, but her golden brown eyes shown with flee, like he had just given her the best compliment in the world. He then watched in awe as she turned around, mutter the password, and disappeared through the portrait into Gryffindor tower.

“It sure will Granger, it sure will.”

Chapter 6 >>

Taglist: 

@theworldisugly-22

[puddle-of-awesomeness]

Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @samanthaswishes

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

51

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

508,020

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Apparently 28 ??? but most of those are just different parts of the MCU (i.e. Iron Man Movies, Thor Movies etc). Other than that, I've written for Marvel Comics, Person of Interest, the DCEU, The Gifted, Doctor Who, PJO, TSC, X-Men Movieverse, Arrowverse but Agents of SHIELD is my main fandom.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Someone Revoke Their Internet Access 638 kudos- Chaotic chat fic my beloved. Honestly, this one just gets weirder every time I update it, which I admit can sometimes take a while, but this is personally one of my fave fics I've ever written.

A Week After Death 529 kudos- The Agents of SHIELD/Agent Carter crossover fic that did waaay better than I thought it was going to do, and obviously I was going to do something with that "anatomy analysis" line. Also, this is the fic where I came up with a Dousy baby name and just stuck with it.

Loving The Journey Together 383 kudos- Can't believe I managed to miss the day this fic turned one year old, and can you tell I like fluffy fics?? Aaaaand I've just realised how long I've gone without updating this one.

00:00:00:00 307 kudos- I was surprised to see this one in the top five, not gonna lie. This was my first Agents of SHIELD/Dousy fic, the first of many (I may have a problem lmao). Also, my first soulmates AU, which is honestly surprising considering that it's one of my favourite tropes.

City of Dust and Shadows 274 kudos. This is easily the most insane thing I have ever written and one that I really want to finish, but I just struggle to think of what I want to say every time I open the document. Which is really annoying because I have the entire plot planned out, it's just the specifics of each scene.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Sometimes, but not often. I do try to reply to comments, but more often than not I have no idea what to say so the unanswered comment just sits in my inbox, taunting me, until I eventually delete everything from my inbox.

6. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I don't normally write much angst, I'm more of a fluff person, however, Keep Me In Your Heart, Okay? and I Thought It Would Be Better This Way are both pretty angsty as both are about characters finding out/reacting to the deaths of other characters (one part-way through Crisis On Infinite Earths, the other post Infinity War). I haven't reread either of them in forever though, so I don't remember how good they are, especially I Thought It Would Be Better This Way as I wrote that in the space of five hours on my tablet in the back of the car on the way to London the day after I saw Infinity War.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've ever written?

I've co-written a couple of crossovers with friends, although neither has been updated in forever, sorry. The craziest one by far is definitely City of Dust and Shadows which is an MCU/X-Men Movieverse/PJO and co/TSC crossover and to this day I am amazed that I managed to plan out a fifteen chapter plot from all the dumb interactions me and my friend thought these characters would have while brainstorming ideas during our lunch break in school.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not so much hate, but someone left multiple comments on the same fic criticising me for stuff that wasn't canon as of the series finale even though I'd already replied to them pointing out that I'd posted the fic before the finale aired. They also accused me of promoting CCP propaganda because they forgot the 1998 animated Mulan movie existed, so that was fun.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of, but it would be cool to see.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, both crossovers I've written have been with friends, although with Mutants of Interest, my friend most/all of the first chapter and I wrote the 300 words of the second chapter that neither of us have touched since like 2019. It's actually become a running joke between us that we've gone so long without updating that fic.

13. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Dousy. That one definitely came out of nowhere last year to completely consume my life. Almost half of all my fics are about them at this point. Before Dousy, it was definitely Amerikate although I've never written as much for them, they've just been side pairings in a larger fic but I definitely want to write more for them in the future.

14. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

If you have been following me since the days of Life On The Farm, you may be entitled to a senior's discount. That was my second ever fic and the oldest one I still have posted, however, by 2019 I was losing a lot of my motivation to write that one and it started to feel more like a chore. I think the problem was that I wrote a lot of it while I was ill and have kinda associated it, especially the early parts, with that time of my life, which really sucked. And I also don't really like some parts of it as much anymore. But I really hope that one day I'll be able to go back to it, because that fic was like my baby for years.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Domestic and family fluff always feel like something that I do pretty well, as well as more comedic scenarios.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I find more serious moments harder to write, especially character deaths, and also action sequences, I just get confused trying to explain/keep up with what everyone is doing.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't write in other languages in fics as my foreign language skills don't extend any further than GCSE French and Spanish, the most I remember ever having "written" in another language was copy and pasting one word in Korean from a kpop song when someone referenced a line from that song. I normally just stick with "[name] said in [language]".

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The MCU.

19. What's your favourite fic you've written?

I do love the majority of my fics, but if I had to pick, it would end up being a tie between Someone Revoke Their Internet Access, A Week After Death and Explosive.

Tagging: @princessroot and anyone else that wants to do this

[cyn-00]

“You are my family” for moreid pretty please if you feel like it. Thank you

This prompt will never get boring it's so soft <3 btw I kinda have already written a fic months ago that touched on this topic (my 13th one shot if I remember correctly), so I'm gonna try and slightly switch it up ;) this is n. 14 from fluff btw!

Prompt list (requests currently closed)

Read it on AO3

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The jet had been quiet for at least an hour. Everyone except for Reid had seemingly long fallen asleep, and they would arrive at Quantico in 30 minutes at most - 27 minutes, the genius gauged.

He really had no more excuses to further procrastinate what he'd been meaning to tell Morgan for the past three weeks. Now or never.

Spencer lifted his eyes from the book he'd been pointlessly holding in his hands since they took off and looked up at his very much asleep boyfriend, still wearing his beloved headphones.

He swallowed. "Derek?"

No answer.

Reid leaned forward just enough to be able to easily reach the man's crossed arms with his hand. He brushed his fingers on his forearm to avoid startling him.

"Der?" he repeated in a lower and more intimate tone.

Derek slightly winced and instinctively scratched his arm where the other's finger pads had ghosted over it.

"Mm' yeah?" he mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes and taking off his headphones as he straightened in the seat.

"I'm- I'm sorry I woke you but I, uh... I really have to ask you something ?"

Morgan leaned in to rest his forearms on his knees under the tray table; the mild wobbling in the other's voice having piqued his interest.

"What's that, baby?" he said softly, ignoring the unneeded apology - purposely or not, Derek himself couldn't quite figure out.

Spencer nodded shortly and took a couple of deep breaths. He eyed down again at the forgotten book and closed it at last, settling it atop the small table and running his fingertips on its leather-coated spine.

"I was wondering if..." he let out another shaky sigh. "...if you'd like to move in with me?"

'Caught off guard' would be the most blatant euphemism to describe Morgan's reaction in response to the question. He tried to limit the external display of such to a gulp and an arching of eyebrows, while inside his heart almost jumped out of his chest.

Before answering, he reached out to place his palm over the boy's jittery hand on top of the book cover.

Spencer brought his eyes back to him.

"Yeah." he replied at last, grinning widely. "I'd really like that, pretty boy."

Spencer ducked his head again to look at their hands; a few curls falling before his face from where they were tucked behind his ears, barely hiding one of the biggest smiles Derek had ever seen gracing his lips.

Morgan stroked the other's knuckles with his thumb. "Honestly, I thought you were gettin' tired of me after spending all day together at work." he joked - not actually joked, though.

Reid lifted his chin to look at him, re-adjusting his brunette locks where they were supposed to have stayed in the first place.

He hesitated a few seconds and eventually scrunched his nose playfully, shaking his head. "Not possible."

Derek's smile grew into a chuckle as he tilted his head.

During the brief silence, Spencer's gaze reunited with the other's fingers tracing unknown patterns on the back of his hand.

"Oh! Right-" the genius mumbled to himself as he remembered something, removing his hand from under Derek's to pat the pockets of his jacket in search for a specific object.

Morgan's pupils chased his boyfriend's clumsy motions with a slightly amused frown.

Spencer took out of his left pocket what he'd been looking for, placing it on the tray table: a key.

The man's eyes glanced in between that and Reid's face a couple times, before finally picking it up to scrutinize it as if it were the most interesting key he'd ever seen - it was, sort of. In a metaphorical way.

"...you made a copy before knowing what I'd answer?" he dared to ask.

The man in front of him merely shrugged. "Call it profiling ?" he said, a funny but cute expression crinkling his features.

Morgan snorted briefly before starting to gradually drift into a more serious state of mind; a couple minutes of quiet hanging gingerly in between him and Reid.

"I also thought..." he prompted to get the other's attention. "that I'd have to ask you at some point."

His boyfriend didn't seem to get the hint.

"I didn't think you'd ever get to be comfortable enough to share your spaces with me." Derek explained, careful not to sound accusing.

Spencer considered the man's statement for a while.

"I didn't think either." he agreed, unexpectedly. "Honestly it doesn't bother me only when it's my mom...or you guys..." the genius' voice got lower by the second.

"...my family." he concluded, smiling bashfully.

Derek chose not to reply just yet; his gaze softening visibly whereas on the other hand Spencer's dropped, concentrating on how to phrase what he wanted to phrase.

"...you are my family, Derek." he whispered at last. If Spencer's knees holding his clasped hands in place were succeeding to keep them from trembling, his voice on the contrary was helplessly failing at remaining steady throughout those 5, simple words.

Morgan stayed silent once again, merely reaching a hand above the table separating them to lift his boyfriend's chin and lightly bump an index on his nose; knowing that, when Spencer opened his heart to him, he needed reassurance and unspoken proof that Derek was listening more than actual words.

Reid was now able to keep at bay the quivering in his hands and voice both.

"...I know you can't really consider me...your family, because you have your mom and sisters and- and probably a bunch of other relatives, but for me..." he trailed off, lowering his gaze once again. "...my- my dad was never family to me...and my mom can't always function enough to...to feel like a mother and- o- of course I cannot blame her for it! But you...you always felt like family, now more than ever but honestly even before...you know, before this ?"

Spencer paused to catch a glimpse of the other's expression, trying to fathom if he'd picked up on what he meant with 'this'.

Even once the man nodded, Reid somehow felt a million other things surfacing to the forefront of his mind right in that moment, things he knew he didn't need to voice but were escaping him before he could grasp onto them.

"I'm infinitely grateful that I have you in my life." he murmured. "even if I'm not exactly sure what...what I did to deserve you." Spencer added in a witty, sheepish snort.

Morgan shook his head, at this point unable to keep himself from speaking up and cupping the man's cheek in his hand.

"Baby, stop saying things like that," he paused, stroking Spencer's cheekbone with a thumb as if feeling the need to ease down the mild harshness that had possibly accompanied his tone.

"and don't ever assume that just because I have a full family you count less than them."

Derek was expecting a nod at best and a self-denigrating retort at worst, what he was surely not expecting from his boyfriend was to shoot up from his seat to make his way around the tray table and sit beside him, hurling himself into his arms in a matter of 3 seconds.

Of course he more than happily hugged the boy back and dug his fingers in his curls, because it was only natural; however Derek didn't bother hiding a slightly surprised reaction - Spencer never liked to display affection even during the flights home, when the team were sleeping 9 times out of 10. To push himself to do such gesture Morgan reckoned that what he said must have really struck him, and his caught-off-guard state quickly became one overflowing with feeling honored and touched.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Spencer slightly loosened the clench of his arms around his torso and nosed his neck, releasing a deep breath.

"So...we're going to your place then?" Derek's question wedged a narrow gap in between their bodies.

Spencer tilted his chin up to meet his eyes shortly before laying small pecks on the corners of the man's lips and Cupid's bow and chin.

Morgan lightly giggled both at his boyfriend for being that level of adorable, and at himself for having managed to meet his lips only once at most.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Mh-mh," Spencer hummed into the last of several kisses. "Yep."

[bubbebruja]

On the Death of Sirius Black and Literary Gay Bashing in Harry Potter

In 2003, I was ten, straight, and positively obsessed with Hermione Granger.

If those last two things sound a little contradictory, it’s because they were. I do not mean I was “obsessed” in the sense that I wanted to dress up like her for Halloween, I mean “obsessed” in the sense that I literally blushed anytime my mom read her name aloud to my sister and I.

Queer. I was queer. I just didn’t know it yet.

Thus, I didn’t notice the Sirius/Remus romantic subtext as a child, drinking hot chocolate propped against my sister’s knees and listening enraptured as my mom read to us from the most recently released Harry Potter book. When Order of the Phoenix came out, I was far more interested in Angsty Harry™ and the evils of Delores Umbridge, and when Sirius died, I was not even all that upset. I didn’t really like him all that much, knew even at that age that he embodied too many of the stereotypically “masculine” traits I had already grown to hate with his pride and brooding and emotional immaturity. I didn’t much care, much less recognize that JK Rowling had done something rather unforgiveable.

But others did.

Seventeen years later, I get it.

By 2003, many older, wiser readers had long since clocked the queer subtext between Sirius and Remus. And, when I picked up the books earlier this year to re-read them for the first time since they were read to me as a child, I saw it too. (Notably, this was prior to JKR’s most recent round of blazing transphobia, after which I stopped reading.) And, okay, yes, I am the type of queer who reads queerness into many things. But y’all, I really didn’t have to try all that hard this time. If I were reading these books for the first time in the context of 2020, I would assume Remus and Sirius were canonically a couple, and JKR just wasn’t bashing us over the head with clear evidence of it. She doesn’t do that most of the time anyway. By Order of the Phoenix, in my opinion, the evidence (as movie Dumbledore says so awkwardly) is incontrovertible. The living together? The joint Christmas present? The “Sirius, sit down” scene early in the book? The confirmed HIV/AIDS metaphor, IN THE 90S?? THEY’RE FUCKING GAY TOGETHER.

And here’s the thing, (and I have no proof of this, so you’re just going to have to roll with it): I think it’s pretty clear that JKR became more conservative as time progressed. Money tends to do that to people, conveniently. What started as a series about the power young people hold to defeat evil and fight injustice eventually devolved into a flaccid epilogue where heterosexual nuclear families abounded and there were (still) no visibly queer characters in sight.

By the time the final book came out, I was a full-fledged teenager, and I, too, had abandoned fantasies of fighting evil and injustice for fantasies of settling down with “my perfect man” (L. O. L.) So, I get it. I get that priorities change for young people. But for adults, especially those recently drunk on the power of infinite amounts of money and fame? Nah. JKR knew what she was doing. JKR laid all the groundwork for a possible relationship between Remus and Sirius and then changed her mind. Or was told to change her mind. Or was forced to change her mind.

I have A Lot Of Feelings™ about Tonks and Remus’s relationship (most of which are about the way their canonical relationship plays into a lot of really awful tropes about disabled people which, no matter how you read him, Remus is). And I have a lot of feelings about Sirius Black as a character. I have a lot of feelings about Dumbledore, some related to his posthumous outing and some not. And, like most of us now, I have a lot of feelings about the entire franchise as a whole. But here’s what I know: It doesn’t actually matter, because JKR didn’t just change the explicit relationship dynamics between Sirius and Remus, she quite literally killed any chances of queer romance.

And she didn’t just kill Sirius. She killed Remus, too. And Tonks (who is a genderqueer butch and I will die on that hill). And Dumbledore. And the cute, squeaky house elf with a love for clothes and an obsession with Harry. And the young Gryffindor boy who followed Harry around, constantly asking for photos and autographs. And – you know what? Fuck it. – the person who lived INSIDE ANOTHER MAN’S BODY before returning to his bodily form, during which time he relied heavily on his male servant who cut off a literal body part to restore his master.

Am I reading too much queer subtext into each of these characters? Maybe. But, as this lovely article states, “close reading is queer culture, always has been.” And I can’t help but notice that the vast majority of the characters JKR didn’t kill off are, well, pretty fucking straight. (Drarry shippers, feel free to come at me. I’m sure there’s plenty of queer subtext there, too). They’re, for the most part, characters with a clear canonical history of heterosexual romance, as if only those with a possible future of a heterosexual, nuclear family are worthy of survival.

And I just don’t think this was an accident. I think it was the intentional plan of someone who started to feel like the world of inclusion she’d created was being read as far too inclusive.

To call this “literary gay bashing” is a pretty serious accusation with a pretty serious use of a very loaded term. But the thing is, I think we too often let people like JKR off the hook without recognizing what her words – both literary and non-literary – have done and can do. We too often dismiss it with statements like, “she’s entitled to her opinion”. Gay bashing is the intentional abuse or assault of someone perceived to be a member of the LGBTQIA2+ community, physically or verbally, that often results in lasting harm or death. And I use this term to describe JKR’s work particularly because it is sensationalizing, because it calls violence what it is: violence. Because, sure, she’s as entitled to her opinion as anyone else. But the second you create a world where anyone, especially children, are going to see themselves, going to feel safe, your “opinion” better do as little violence as possible.

When I saw the first Harry Potter movie, back in 2001, I refused to discuss it for months. I was furious. At the time, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but I now realize that I was heartbroken that Hermione Granger didn’t look like me. When JKR described a girl with wild, brown curly hair, I saw me. I saw my hair. And so, as children tend to do, I saw the rest of me, too. I saw tanned skin and dark brown eyes and full lips and high cheekbones (the ones people always told me made me look “Indian”, which I only partially am). I saw the quiet confidence that develops when you’re the brownest kid in your school, ready to strike but only when provoked. The pale, arrogant, racially unambiguous Hermione Granger I saw on the screen made me feel dirty, cast off, unworthy of representation. The self-hatred I felt when White Hermione Granger entered the film alongside White Harry Potter and White Ron Weasley and White Everyone Else was a kind of violence.

And when JKR killed off all of her queer-read characters, she took that violence to another level. Because they were there, we saw them, we did not imagine the romantic undertones between Remus and Sirius, or the way that a shape-shifting young woman with short, spiky hair reads an awful lot like a person uninterested in traditional gender. We saw ourselves in the most beloved franchise of all time. And then, she took away those possibilities, and she took away those characters.

And you know what? People die because they can’t see themselves in media. People die because that’s what they’ve watched everyone like them do on screen and in books. It’s not harmless, and it’s not victimless, and it’s violent.

There’s only one solution to literary gay bashing: To Bash Back. We can and do write ourselves into the stories, into the world, and refuse to settle for explanations that gaslight us into thinking we imagined things that were never there, or ask us to settle for tiny crumbs of useless representation.

I intended to finish my most recent story, “Come Healing”, with an ambiguous ending that left the possibility of Sirius’s death open to reader interpretation. But then, JKR kept going, and talking, and kept creating violence, and I got mad. And so, like so many queers before me, I rewrote the story and changed the ending, and created love and security and peace and life where the canonical author had created hopelessness and death. And in the world we live in right now, that is radical. It is bashing back.

It’s tiny, but it’s something. Every time we write a happy ending for a queer character, we create the possibilities of happy endings for queer people everywhere. And no one – no matter how hard she may try – can take that away.