#could someone as vile as he once was be worthy of genuine happiness?

[luxurysystems]

If I'm gonna do this Vice City AU any justice, you know I have to give Irwin the loading screen treatment.

[mimisempai]

Every time I look at you, I fall in love again

Summary:

As he gazes at his sleeping lover, Loki remembers the moments where he fell in love with Mobius.OrFive times when Loki's heart pounded in a special way and once when it pounded in a familiar way.

Notes:

Tumblr request : a 5+1 - it could be about moments in their relationship where Loki falls more in love w/ Mobius

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32821156

2084 words - Rating G

1.

For once, Loki woke up this morning before Mobius.

Leaning on his hand, he took the opportunity to watch his beloved while he slept.

As he gazed at the sleeping features of his lover, he was once again taken aback by the strength of his feelings.

Loki had little or no experience with love, so he had nothing to compare to what he was experiencing with Mobius right now.

No one had made him feel the way the man made him feel.

It was as if Mobius had wrapped his roots around Loki's heart little by little but without imprisoning him.

Mobius' love had set him free.

In return, Loki's feelings had taken root in Mobius' constancy.

Sometimes Loki liked to think about how his feelings had developed, because it had all happened so quickly that he had never been able to enjoy those stolen first moments.

It would be hard for Loki to say exactly when he had begun to notice that his relationship with Mobius was different from any relationship he had had before, but what he was sure of was that no one had ever been able to see through him as quickly as Mobius.

"I don't like to talk."

"But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie-talkie."

Honestly, at that moment, Loki thought fondly, if he hadn't been so angry at being found out, he would have laughed.

As a matter of fact, it had become a fond memory for them. Whenever Loki would go into one of his grandiloquent tirades, Mobius would simply make this little gesture with his hand and would mouth "Talkie Talkie"

" You don't know anything about me.

"Maybe I'd like to learn."

It was probably at that moment that Mobius had begun to touch something in Loki that no one had ever touched. The fact that anyone would even bother to genuinely learn about him was in itself new. Except for his mother and Thor, most people had always assumed the worst of him.

"Honestly, I'm actually a fan. Yeah. And I guess I'm wondering why does someone with so much range just wanna rule?

Mobius had been the first to make him question himself.

Of course, at the time, he was not at all receptive to what Mobius' words really meant.

It had taken him some time to admit the truth.

The moment he had admitted it, the naked truth, without any more artifice, he had been ready to receive the final blow, the ratification of his vileness, but no, nothing like that.

"Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

"'A desperate play for control.' You do know yourself."

"A villain."

"That's not how I see it."

That's not how I see it.

At that moment, Loki's heart had pounded for the first time.

The man in front of him had seen all the lowliness that Loki was capable of and yet he did not see him as a villain.

From the first hours of their meeting, he had made it impossible for Loki not to love him and from then on, his feelings had grown exponentially.

2.

As he walked down the path of his memories, Loki continued to gaze at Mobius as he slept. A small miracle in itself for Loki.

Knowing who Loki was, Mobius slept in his presence. The perfect image of absolute trust.

Loki sometimes still had trouble feeling worthy of such trust.

Seeing him sleeping like that, he thought of the day when he himself had first fallen asleep in this way with Mobius.

The day he fell a little more in love with Mobius.

It started with Mobius taking the blame for the failure of their first mission together, when it was all Loki's fault. They could have just pruned him, but no, Mobius had pleaded his case to Ravonna.

Then Loki had presented his theory to Mobius, admittedly with a rather shaky metaphor, even ruining one of his lover's favorite dishes.

"Well, here's a fun theory. You lure me out into the field, and then you stab me in the back. And that's a theory I don't wanna test."

"I'd never stab anyone in the back. That's such a boring form of betrayal."

"Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life. You've literally stabbed people in the back, like, 50 times."

"Well, I'd never do it again, because it got old."

Mobius laughed and chose to follow Loki's theory, even though Loki had given him no reason to believe in him until now. Even though his theory was based on almost nothing, Mobius had chosen to believe Loki.

Then they returned from Pompeii and something happened that had never happened to Loki, he had fallen asleep. Loki, who was distrustful of everything and nothing, had simply fallen asleep in the presence of someone he hardly knew. As if his heart had understood before his mind that he had nothing to fear from Mobius.

When Mobius had woken him up, Loki's heart had pounded for the second time, and it wasn't fright that had caused it, but the realization that Loki was falling in love and falling deeply.

3.

As he looked up from his contemplation of Mobius, Loki's gaze fell on the photo that lay on his nightstand. A memory of their first vacations, when Mobius had finally realized his dream. In the middle of the paradisiacal decor of an island in Midgard, Loki had taken this photo of Mobius piloting -at last- a jetski. So much joy on his face.

Another thing that made Loki fall in love a little more: the passion of his lover for some small insignificant things.

Josta, salad, jet-ski...

"You know, some things... Actually, most things in history are kinda dumb, and everything gets ruined eventually. But in the early 1990s, for a brief, shining moment, there was a beautiful union of form and function, which we call the jet ski, and a reasonable man cannot differ."

"You ever been on one?"

"No... No. I think a TVA agent showing up on a jet ski on the Sacred Timeline, that would create a branch for sure."

"Oh it'd be fun, though."

"Yeah, it'd be really fun."

"So, why read about them?"

"It just helps remind me of what we're fighting for."

The expression Mobius had had at that moment, when he had said something like that with such candor had made Loki fall even more.

And his heart had pounded for the third time.

While he had sensed that what would happen next would destroy what Mobius believed in, Loki had not been able to stop himself from wanting to protect him and his happiness, and to hope that one day he would be able to realize his dream.

With his eyes on the photo commemorating a very real memory, he felt a sense of satisfaction, because his lover had been able to realize this dream and Loki had been there to witness it.

4.

"Loki... Don't go..."

Loki's eyes returned from the picture to his lover, whose features were now tense, probably from a nightmare.

"I'm here love, I'm not leaving. I'm staying with you."

Saying this, Loki gently strokes Mobius' cheek and his expression immediately relaxes. After a few seconds,he was sleeping peacefully again.

Loki didn't need to read Mobius' mind to know what he had dreamed.

He had known that he had taken a huge risk when he had decided to follow Sylvie and he had known that the reunion with Mobius would not be easy.

After all, he had betrayed him. But of all the acts of betrayal that Loki had been guilty of, this was the one that had cost him the most. Because of the feelings he was beginning to have for Mobius.

But what he hadn't imagined was that Mobius would almost turn into a jealous lover, even though at that point they didn't have that kind of relationship at all.

Loki had been incredibly surprised that it wasn't Loki's betrayal that had hurt Mobius the most, but the fact that he had made a connection with Sylvie.

"Come on. Look at your eyes. You like her."

"You like her. Does she like you?"

"Both of you were just swooning over each other."

"It's breaking my reality right now. What an incredible seismic narcissist. You fell for yourself."

"I'm supposed to believe your terrorist girlfriend"

"What, your female self that you have some demented crush on…"

Loki's heart had pounded for the fourth time when he realized what it could mean. He had fallen a little more at the thought of Mobius, at the thought that the man might be jealous, at the thought of what it might mean about Mobius' feelings for him.

5.

Then there had been that moment of grace, the exact moment when Loki had known that he was definitely in love with Mobius.

For the first time, when everything was against him, someone had chosen to believe in him. That someone was Mobius.

Even though he was clearly angry with Loki, he still listened to him and chose to believe him.

Despite Loki's attempts at manipulation, betrayals, and mistakes, Mobius renewed his faith in him and spoke those words that were imprinted in Loki's head.

"You could be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. I mean, just in case anyone ever told you different."

Loki's throat tightened as he was overwhelmed by the emotion of the memory.

Mobius had no idea how many wounds he had healed in Loki at that moment.

After what Loki had done, where Odin and Thor had not forgiven him, not only had Mobius forgiven him but even more amazingly, he had shown that he believed that Loki was capable of being good, of doing good.

At that moment, Loki's heart did not pound once, but thousands of times, at full speed.  Because of the joy and love that filled it.

The sudden disappearance of Mobius just afterwards had been all the more cruel. Because at that moment, they didn't know about the Void and Loki had thought Mobius was lost forever. He had been devastated.

He couldn't help but touch Mobius' face, gently so as not to wake him, then he whispered softly, "You too Mobius, do not ever leave me."

+1

They had found each other again.

When he first saw Mobius after he thought he had lost him, it only confirmed Loki's feelings for Mobius.

The way his heart had pounded at the sight of the one he loved was impossible to ignore.

So when they had to part once again, Loki had not been able to resist the pull of his heart, and instead of grabbing Mobius' hand, he had taken the man in his arms.

Loki had held Mobius in his arms many times since that moment, but he would never forget the feeling of that first hug. The feeling that the universe was in place. That he was where he belonged, that he was home.  He had expressed without words all that he felt and Mobius had answered him in the same way. They had to part again, but this time the bond between them was undeniable and unbreakable.

They had to go through a lot to finally enjoy their love, without the sword of Damocles, without the threat of the end of the world, or of a multiversal war over their heads, but they had made it. They were here now.

With each passing day, Loki fell a little more in love.

The Midgardian saying, I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow, had become his.

Because every time he looked at Mobius and realized the love they shared, he felt like it was stronger.

Mobius moved in his sleep, making the sheet slide off his shoulder.

Loki could not resist and leaned over to kiss the bare shoulder. Mobius woke up and turned to face Loki with a sleepy smile on his lips.

"Hey there handsome," Mobius whispered to Loki, gently kissing Loki's cheek. Loki's heart fluttered in a familiar way now, at such gentleness and at the adoration he read in his lover's eyes.

"Hey love," whispered Loki.

Mobius kissed him, his lips pressing lazily against Loki's. Loki smiled and kissed him back, happy.

Together they enjoyed the delights of a perfect, quiet morning.

_________

All other one-shots of this series here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[vinylhazza]

Honor To Us All (G.D)

Summary: Grayson and Y/n watch Mulan, turning movie night into one of playful banter, serenades, and talk of a bigger life through mouthfuls of popcorn. Grayson confesses his real image of his girlfriend - a warrior in his eyes.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Silliness, Fluff, Disney, literally so cheesy I’ll provide the wine: 🍷

“Do you think Mulan knows she’s a bad bitch?” Grayson ponders, stuffing another handful of cheesy popcorn into his mouth.

“I mean...I think she figures it out in the end. Or at least faces the fact that there is no other choice but the brave one. The confidence comes with her achievements - bringing honor to her family and country,” Y/n explains thoughtfully, smiling at how genuine of a question it was from such a big man that’s nothing but a softy that loves Disney.

Grayson sits for a moment longer, watching as Mushu rambles on about putting shame on a cow and what not, giggling at the small dragons rant. It’s always been his favorite character because of his perseverance to be seen as something more than a small sidekick. Plus he makes him laugh uncontrollably hard for being a cartoon and looking like a little lizard. And anything that can make that angelic smile and laugh of his come out is a gift from God, in her opinion.

“Good point. It’s just interesting that she goes into this war zone with all of this grit and dedication without ever being actually exposed to a lifestyle that requires such high expectations,” he mumbles through another mouthful of his snack. She knows he’s only saying this because he spends his time singing the songs instead of actually listening. Yes Grayson Dolan singing Mulan songs is one of the greatest sights she’s ever been blessed with. It’s a sound that bursts from him like he genuinely can’t hide his happiness, airy and with an adorable wheeze that leads to a puff from his inhaler. 

“Well that’s not entirely true. Before she went with the army she was expected to bring honor to her family in a different way: find a husband, be a perfect daughter, a perfect wife, a perfect mother in the future. She was always held to a high standard even if she didn’t live up to it sometimes. The pressure prepared her for it, I believe. It can be brutal to be scrutinized by your own family...belittled for your clumsiness and uniqueness when you’re meant to be so proper and uniform. She was constantly second guessing everything she thought was right and locking her real self away just to maintain an image was never destined to have. The army brought out the individuality in her - even if she was disguised as a man,” she finishes with a huff, out of breath but satisfied with her lengthy answer, popping a few Skittles into her mouth and smiling when she realizes they were all her favorite ones - red and yellow. The superior Skittles. 

The two sit wrapped in each other, scanning their eyes across a screen filled with fighting soldiers, a heaping pile on top of Mulan’s small frame. He takes a moment to comment “ouch” quietly without thinking, ignoring her small giggle at his innocence.

He’s so pure when he wants to be, serious when he has to be, and so totally himself all the time. It’s refreshing in a world so fake. There’s not a lot of men that will sit down and watch a movie like Mulan and actually think about what it means instead of teasing and making fun of the movie the entire duration. He’s not interested in being a douchebag for an image. 

“Be a man, we must be swift as the coursing river, be a man, with all the force of a great typhoon, be a man, with all the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the mooooooooon,” he sings along, laughing at the way she’s watching him scream the lyrics like he really means them, joining in at the end. 

“Fuck them Huns,” Y/n wheezes, slapping at his thigh as she laughs joyfully.

“Literally fuck them Huns,” he agrees through popcorn, hand pressed against his mouth in fear of spilling some due to her own rolling laughter.

When it returns to the calm silence he speaks out again with so much serious she thinks he might be being sarcastic. But no, he’s all serious and curious as always.

“Also he’s a fine ass man how is she not blushing?” he tuts once again, eyebrows dipped down as Li Shang all but sings in Mulan’s face. This is a question she’s thought nearly every time she watches the film, but never had the mind to speak allowed. 

With a chuckle she simply fired back with another question, “She can’t fall over herself everytime she’s with him. She has a purpose for being there. Do you see me blushing every time I’m with you?”

“Yes,” he snarks, grinning again as she punches him in the arm playfully, snuggling into his black sweatshirt he hasn’t changed out of since they woke up a couple hours prior. 

“Shut up,” she giggles like a schoolgirl, hiding in the fabric of his hoodie further, “it’s not my fault you insist on walking around shirtless most of the time.” 

“Well so does Li Shang, so you see my point? The girls just can’t resist the bod,” Grayson gloats, a proud smile with lots of pearly white teeth on his face again. 

“Men are vile creatures.” Her amused mockery get’s her another chuckle before it grows silent once more, both enjoying the company that doesn't need conversation, “and did you just say bod?”

“Mmm mostly and yes, yes I did,” he agrees with a nod, not even finding a good rebuttal that could prove her wrong. He’s good at that, letting her have a peaceful moment. Because that’s what it was - a peaceful moment between two lovers, joking about Mulan on a couch they’ve sat on for far too long, in clothes they haven’t the urge to change, with hearts that won’t stay steady. 

Grayson stops when Mulan shouts from the speakers, covering herself as the soldiers pile into the water, and inevitably laughing as she scurries behind her horse. With a tug on his hoodie he’s yanking it over his head and handing it over to a shivering Y/n, knowing she could get a blanket, but his hoodie is so much better. 

They settle into the comfortable silence, Y/n stealing tiny handfuls of Grayson’s popcorn whenever she got the chance, belting out laughter when it was too much to hold in. He joined in the majority of the time, loving how blissful her laugh sounded, cherishing the way it stuck to every nerve of his heart and had it skipping beats from being overwhelmed. That was what she loved so much about the love they shared, it was plentiful but pure and full - never a dull moment even when they are essentially doing nothing. 

— — —

“I think you’re the Mulan of the world babe,” Grayson remarked with a love struck smile towards the end of the movie, having been silent for most of duration of the film since their little discussion in the beginning.

He’s hurrying to lean in and give his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek before she can question him, suddenly overwhelmed with a strong sense of devotion for this girl he gets to wake up to every morning by the grace of God. He would be so embarassed if anyone knew that he just geinuinely thought to himself just then that she was dreamy. But she was, she really was in every way, the most dreamy.

She smirks, turning as he backs away to quirk an eyebrow at him in question, “Oh really? Why’s that?”

Sitting back against the plush couch he explains the truth behind his claim, even if he’s going to sound cringe and too deep to have just watched an entire Disney movie.

“You never give up, even when things are hard. You keep pushing past all the failures in search of that success that has to come at some point. Even if it means making a sacrifice at your own expense to save someone else or protect something bigger than your ego,” his voice is strong, sure and pure, “you really do bring honor to us all. Even if most people choose to ignore it.”

“If I did everything in life to please other people, I would never be truly fulfilled, and yeah I might relate to Mulan the most but you, my dear, have Li Shang written all over. You’re always going on about duty, honor, making your family proud, even the country, always thinking outside of the box, owning up to mistakes and making sure you don’t make them again. You’re not easily defeated. You see purpose in all things, understand the rules and instead of trying to defy them like myself, you bring balance - hence why we are so good for each other.” Y/n strokes her fingers through his luscious hair,

“Well I would go to war for you, love,” he teases, rubbing his nose against hers for a tender eskimo kiss. He rarely uses that pet name, but loves her reaction when he does. 

“Hmm and I would do the same for you, darling,” she hums back, holding his face close with both of her hands, cupping his face right under the strong bones of his jawline. It’s a gag worthy moment, sappy and cliche, something that if walked in on, they would both blush and cower in embarrassment. But in this moment, with the two of them sitting still, foreheads touching, with the ending credits of a fairytale rolling, they couldn’t care less about lingering eyes that might see their moment that means so much.

“You’re like fire, unstoppable and warm, you never let anyone ruin it for you...I wish I could be that way,” Grayson gulps, stroking her temple with his thumb.

“You are that way. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. You’re exactly like all of the strongest charcters in every movie and honestly fuck Li Shang right now because you’re better because you’re real.” Y/n is observant. Always watching. Not in a weird, stalker way. She simply likes to know the details, little things that make someone who they are that they might be ashamed of at some point, or maybe things they don’t even notice.

She notices. She notices that his leg in bouncing right now because he’s wondering if she liked the kiss, even if he’s kissed her a thousand times and she always pulls away blushing. She notices the way his left hand has dropped to rub at her thigh like he does when he feels comfortable. She takes note at the small smile he gives when she laces her fingers with his to soothe his nerves, knowing it makes him feel better to be touched when he’s nervous. She notices his love language so she can meet him halfway. He’s her prince and she’s not ashamed to show it.

People say fairytales can’t be real, but Grayson proves them wrong every single day.

He’s looking at her with that grin, the one where he looks sneaky. He wears this smile when he’s excited, so completely happy, or getting ready to tickle you. There’s no in between, but right now, with the remote waving in his hand, you know exactly what page he’s on.

“So...Tangled?”

[clinioelerrante]

A girly chat

Summary:

Ginny and Hermione meet casually in the school halls after curfew. The situation is getting more complicated and. . . some things must be said, once and for all.

The copyrights of the characters belong to their creator J. K. Rowling.

 A girly chat

If the renowned Hogwarts School of Magic and Sorcery has a thousand years of tradition, there is possibly another tradition that is even older than Hogwarts. In fact, it is probably as old as it was when the first boarding school that took in teenagers of both sexes for almost a whole year was set up.

 Into the shadows, Ginny Weasley carefully scrutinized the last stretch of corridors to the staircase that finally led to the Gryffindor common room. A couple of hours ago the curfew had come into effect and now her only concern was to be able to reach the safety of the common room before some particularly fussy prefect, or worse, a teacher, discovered her returning late to her tower.

 She had split up with her boyfriend Dean a while ago after a not too satisfying snogging session and her mood was particularly irritable.

 Lately, things between the two of them haven't been working out as they should for a couple of girl and boyfriend. She was aware that there was an imbalance in the relationship. She liked Dean, that was indisputable and she would never have agreed to have a relationship if there was even the slightest interest on her part.

 It was one thing to have a very satisfying intense and passionate snogging session in the heat of the moment and quite another to maintain a relationship with another person with nothing more than the purely physical. Not that she was against it. In fact, some of her classmates had that kind of relationship, “a term flirt", they called it. The kind that start a few weeks into the school year and end up back home for the summer holidays with some of the Hogwarts Express carriage suspiciously isolated from the rest with silencing spells, door locks and a few imperturbable ones too. It was simply that this type of relationship was not for her and the point was as time passed, the relationship with Dean seemed to slide dangerously towards that way.

 She was fully aware that Dean was the one most emotionally involved in that relationship. In fact, Ginny was beginning to suspect that Dean was genuinely falling in love with her, and while it was true that she was attracted to the bloke, it was even more true that she was nowhere near as attracted to him same way.

 To make matters worse, Dean was developing a somewhat overprotective feelings about her and, without intending to, was overwhelming her with all his solicitous displays of attention. She knew that he didn't mean to do it on purpose, but for a country girl who had to deal with six older brothers, two of whom were the biggest and most terrible pranksters in the history of the school, another who had the dubious honour of being the biggest blind stubborn who ever walked the face of the earth, one leading member of Dumbledore’s army, one sneaky fighter in the mystery department and owner of the most terrifying bat-bogey hex known, all those attentions were, to put it mildly, a pain in the ass.

 To add to all this the growing, even at the end of February, level of anxiety that every fifth year student experiences as the dates for the OLWs tests approach, the initial appreciation that Ginny's mood was particularly irritable tends to fall short and, if by the hands of the devil, we add as the last ingredient to the potion the Weasley name and its legendary explosive temperament, it is not necessary to have an NEWT  in potions to discover that we are faced with the perfect elaboration of the “Weasley Wrath” potion trademark and, only a fool, a suicidal, a desperate person or someone absolutely unaware of the delicate boil that was cooking in the small body of the redhead, would think of taking it out of the pot.

 Ginny Weasley wasn't the only one wandering the halls at that hour. Also on the way to the common room, Hermione Granger was returning from one of her lonely prefect patrols. For months now, she had avoided patrolling with the other prefect of Gryffindor, so she simply left the common room early and made an erratic patrol of the castle in a desperate attempt not to find him in her path. If she had met him or anyone else, they would have immediately noticed her swollen eyelids, her red eyes and the soft sob that escaped from her mouth. Normally she would try to hide these already constant features on her face through some make-up, glamorous charms, impeccable uniformity and an apparent indifference to what was going on around her, but today she was too hurt, despondent and tired to realize her real look.

 Having spent more than half of her shift in a secluded corner blowing off steam in her crying, all she wanted was to reach the quiet of her bed, cast an imperturbable spell and keep crying until the tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep.

 It had been months since Ronald Weasley had started dating Lavender Brown and contrary to what might have been expected, the pain of heartbreak had not diminished one iota, quite the contrary. As the weeks passed, it was manifesting itself in all its majestic and vileness.

 It was simply agony!

 Her daily routine had become an unconscious attempt to avoid him for any means. Waking up even earlier, skipping meals, going to classroom for unusual routes, prolonging her library study hours beyond what was customary there to her. . . every conceivable means had been used by her to avoid him, but it had not been enough. Somehow, as always with Ron, it was never enough.

 She couldn't avoid him completely, whether it was in classroom, in the common room, at her frugal meals or even in the library, where he would go when he had no choice but to complete his schoolwork and even though she tried so hard not to notice him when he was in those risk areas, it was so unlikely that she thought the expression “ignoring the elephant in the room” was an understatement and should be replaced for “ignoring the Ronald in the room”, because a redheaded lighthouse more than six feet high was frankly impressive and even harder to avoid.

 To her greatest misery, where her brain was plotting escapes, her treacherous heart longed to see the one responsible for her misery and more than once she surprised herself looking for in the direction she knew the insufferable redhead was. The problem was that usually the image her hungry eyes encountered was not that of a lonely, bucolic Ron pining for her, but of a nasty Ronald Bilius Weasley who seemed to have attached with a permanent Sticking Charm to Lavender Brown's mouth.

 Those were the worst times for Hermione, except for the nights when these images of constant kissing were repeated incessantly and while part of she was disgusted and nauseous at such sexual display, it was no less true that another part of she, most of she to be honest, desperately wanted to tear Lavender from her face and transfigure her into a couch on which to throw Ron so that she could measure his tonsils with her own tongue. That was the moment when the tears came to his eyes uncontrollably and the need to take refuge somewhere isolated arose.

 So, the lonely prefect rounds were in a way a blessing and a curse.

 Blessing because she was allowed to hide in any of the school's classrooms where she could vent her tears sometimes, sometimes with a brief burst of anger. Curse, because in the lonely rooms of the castle, that was when her brain was at its most tortured and that night, the memories had been particularly painful.

 Without pretending to rejoice in her grief, she had gone back in time, remembering the happy moments with Ron, especially after the incident, saved by the skin of her teeth, from the Mystery Department. Even before, she had felt that something was changing in their relationship as friends, as for example, when she discovered that Ron had given her a bottle of perfume, but it had never been so evident until after the disastrous raid that had taken Sirius ´life.

 The point was that ever since she woke up with the ugly scar on her chest, she shuddered at the memory, Ron had been with her all the time, comforting her and even, in a moment of weakness she had, making her feel that the imprint had not diminished in any way how beautiful she might look to a man. Quite the opposite. It was proof that she was a brave woman willing to face any manifestation of injustice and evil and if any man was not able to see it, then he would not be worthy of her love.

 “If I knew a woman who was willing to fight like that for me. . .“, he had started with a dreamy look, “...I'd be in love with her forever and someday I'd make her my wife“. Causing her to fall on his own arse if she hadn't been lying on one of the beds in the school infirmary wing, at the same time that she becomes a puddle of drool.

 She had barely been able to stop herself from grabbing his shirt, drawing him in front of her and facing his eyes, telling him:

 There's one who's been fighting for you since the bloody second year and you still haven't noticed, you stupid idiot! and then kissed him like there's no tomorrow.

 Instead, she'd babbled something unintelligible, burst into moan, and then she'd taken refuge in his chest and burst into tears.

 Great, Hermione! She thought as she banged her head repeatedly against the nearest wall. You had your chance on a silver platter and you chose that moment to show yourself as a weak, crying damsel. You are mum Myrtle pride.

 Previous times, during the summer, she had gone to The Burrow like so many others and had to admit that there had been a change in Ron's behaviour. Somehow, he seemed to be more solicitous of her without that meaning the end of his usual discussions. It simply seemed as if it was easier for them to be together without provoking each other for trivial matters, at least until “Fleeeerg" with her stunning beauty and “teggific" accent, made her presence felt in the vicinity, at which point Ron seemed to be slightly dazed and in spite of everything, she had to admit that this daze lasted for only a moment before he pulled himself together. Sometimes Hermione helped him with a particularly hard and cruel slap, on the other hand very satisfying for her, on the back of his neck.  Anyway, his reactions to Fleur's presence weren’t more that a brief stunned. Just the opposite to the pitiful sight of the fourth year.

 In short, his behaviour in the hospital wing, The Burrow and the first months of the term at Hogwarts did not bode well for what was to come. In fact, she thought they were taking steps in the right direction until after she invited him to Professor Slughorn's party and perhaps that was the final reason she felt so broken. She had been brushing against happiness with her fingertips so close that she could almost feel it and suddenly found herself touching. . . nothingness.

 Thus she was immersed in her own reflections and returning to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor Tower when she seemed to perceive the movement of a shadow lurking in the darkness of the corridors.

 Surely if she had been sufficiently rested and clear-minded her reaction could have been better, but for someone who is personally, emotionally exhausted, and with Hermione Granger's history of unpleasant encounters, this was perfectly understandable:

 “IMPEDIMENTA!”

 It had been like suddenly hitting an invisible wall. Convinced that the path between her hiding place and the stairs leading to her target was free of obstacles, she had launched herself into a swift race towards the stairs and, at a stroke, bounced back.

 If the initial impact had been brutal, falling to the cold, hard floor of the school in an uncontrolled manner had not been a piece of cake either, but if she had learned anything from her recent fight it was that pain could wait. Because in the time it takes to complain about the wounds, a spell with very, very bad intentions can go after you and that is definitely much worse than the pain itself. So as soon as she had finished bouncing around on the floor of the corridor, she threw herself to the side as she wielded her wand to confront her assailant and found herself facing another wand, behind which were astounded and very familiar brown eyes.

 “Her. . . Hermione?”

 “Ginny?”

 They were both so bewildered that they forgot to lower their respective wands, which continued to point at each other like a mournful omen, until the prefect of Gryffindor surrendered hers while offering her other hand to help the friend with the sore arse.

 “For God's sake, Ginny”, she scolded her as he helped her up. “You scared me to death. What are you supposed to be doing at this hour outside your bedroom lurking in the school halls?” She finished.

  “Oh! I don't know”, accepting help meanwhile she rubbed her bruised arse with her other hand and giving her friend an unfriendly look, the redhead's response was not long in coming. “Maybe wait until a hot wand witch was encouraged to use me as a target for her shooting practice”, she said sarcastically.

 “You know that's not what I'm asking you, Ginny”. Hermione ignored the little voice at the back of her head which told her to answer with the same irony, an instinctive reflex, and the fruit of the continuous and biting training that she practiced daily with the youngest of Ginny’s brothers.

 That was before, she corrected herself. We are even talking to each other anymore, she told herself and after all, Ginny was her best friend. The one who had been supporting her in her worst moments making imaginative descriptions of her stupid brother to try and cheer her up.

  “Okay, okay. I've been spending some time with Dean”, she explained as she dusted off his uniform. “Far from prying eyes, Hermione. Is that good enough for you, or would you prefer me to give you more details about our business?” She ended up with a smile that had nothing innocent about it.

 “Save me the nauseating details please, I have just finished my dinner and I would like to keep it inside my stomach, thank you very much.”

 A nasty expression was drawn on her face and the youngest Weasley didn't know for sure if it was more fake than real. What if it was completely real is, that it was the most blatant lie Hermione Granger had ever told her.

 “Hermione”. She paused for a brief moment thinking of how to approach the subject. “I didn't actually see you in the big dining room during dinner so, I'm wondering if you had anything to eat?”

  “Well. . . er. . . me. Yes”. . . She stuttered. “I was actually late while completing my homework, so when I realized this, I spent a moment in the kitchens while making my rounds.”

 “Hermione. . .”

 “Giiiinny?”

 All right, the gentle approach didn't seem to yield the desired result, so it was time to tighten the screws a bit. Ginny had a genuine concern about Hermione's health. She was aware of how little she ate and of the use of glamorous charms on herself. Not for nothing, she had been her only real friend and confidant.

 “Hermione, don't try to hide it”, her voice took on a tone of harshness necessary to provoke her friend reaction. Hermione tended to ignore all the negative things said about her and the requirements that displeased her. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt, like when Draco Malfoy constantly insulted her, but making a habit of it, she tended not to give it much of her attention at the moment.

 “It's because of my arse of a brother, isn't it?”

 The prefect's expression of pain and the sinking of her shoulders confessed exactly what Ginny had suspected.

 “Hermione, this has to stop now”, she continued, looking into her eyes. “He is a perfect prat, we know it but, look at yourself. Your eyes look like they've fallen victim to the conjunctivitis curse and you’ve been crying so much that even the tiny amount of makeup you do wear got smeared’. You don't eat. You don't rest. I doubt you're even getting enough sleep. You can't keep hiding it with glamour charms. You have to talk to him.”

 “I don't have anything to talk to that. . . that. . . lubricious dog”, Hermione said, her body went rigid at the mere suggestion of talking to Ron. Under no circumstances would she stoop to talking to him.

 “Hermione…” Ginny was patient enough to confront her friend. Sometimes she was surprised at how damned stubborn she could be and how much she and Ron were alike in that. “Right now you're being miserable and stupid too. Yes; stupid. Don't look at me like that”, she defended herself when the brunette frowned at her. “Think about it. Since you stopped talking to him, you don't have him like your couple or like your best friend anymore.

 This does not mean that you have stopped nursing a broken heart, or that have you forgotten him. You’ve closed off any chance you might have had from making him realise he’s a right tool for dating Lavender because he can’t already to notice how extraordinary you are. How's he going to notice if you aren’t anywhere near him?

 Ginny knew it was her turn to tell a big lie. Ron already knew how extraordinary Hermione was. During the summer holidays of the fourth year, Voldemort's return had been a constant topic in family conversations, but the other big topic had been Ron's monologues explaining how damned cool Hermione was and that a certain Bulgarian “pumpkin head” didn't deserve her at all. They used to end with the twins placed one on each side of a red Ronald in rage, while imitating a pair of languid-looking violinists, playing a romantic tune.

 “Don't go down that road, Ginevra. As far as I'm concerned, your brother has ceased to exist. I'm not going to let him keep hurting me one way or another”, Hermione interrupted her as she proudly raised her chin and passed a sleeve of his school sweater over her face to clean it. “He was the one who started treating me like dragon dung after I invited him to the Slughorns party and I don't even know why. I can't remember anything I could have offended him about and I don't care anymore. As far as I'm concerned, he can take Lavender and do whatever he likes with her.”

 Ginny could hear the tremor in Hermione's voice when she made her last statement, but she couldn't tell her that not for a moment had she managed to fool her with that bombastic claim that she didn't care at all what Ron and Lavender did together, because a feeling drowned out her own voice. A feeling called. . . remorse.

 “In fact. . .” Her words escaped in a whisper from between her lips as her gaze rested on her own shoes.

 Hermione stopped her walk when she saw Ginny to stop. Even through the veil of tears that covered her eyes, she could sense that something was wrong with Ginny.

 “Ginny, what. . . ?”

 “In fact”, She took every ounce of courage to lift her eyes off the ground to face her friend's, knowing that what was coming now would have frightening, unknown, and possibly disastrous consequences. “I think you should know that not Ron’s entire fault.”

 For months, Ginny had been carrying guilt about what happened between Hermione and her brother. She knew that Ron had processed in the worst possible way the information that she had let slip. No doubt her passionate brother was ultimately responsible for the entire aftermath, yes, but there was no denying that her indiscretion had been the trigger for everything that had happened afterwards.

 “Ginny. What do you mean?” Something shook in Hermione's gut. Something dark and slimy, like a premonition that something terrible was coming, something that made her afraid to know the answer.

 “Hermione… you see… a few months ago Harry surprised me when I was snogging Dean behind a tapestry.”

 “Well”. For a moment she hoped that that awful feeling of apprehension was just her imagination. “I don't think Harry liked that very much and I understand that you felt uncomfortable, but I don't understand how. . .” but when she saw Ginny Wesley’s serious face, that hope vanished like sea foam.

 “Ron was with him.”

 A freezing cold ran down Hermione Granger's spine, making her wince while her heart seemed to have missed a beat.

 “Wh-what else happened, Ginny?”

  “Ron… well, you know how overprotective he is… he burst into a speech about my reputation, what everyone would think of me, and practically called me a scarlet slut”. Ginny blushed furiously as she remembered the whole incident. “I finally told him there was nothing wrong with it. I made fun of him that he wished Fleur would kiss his cheek and that his best kiss had come from Aunt Muriel”. Her voice seemed to raise an octave at a time as she was telling it, as if the memory were recreating the anger she felt against her meddlesome brother at that moment. “That everyone was doing it and enjoying it except him. I teased him and told him, if he kissed Pigwidgeon, Harry kissed Cho, and you. . .” Ginny was interrupted at that moment when she realized the look full of pain and betrayal that Hermione was giving her with all her intensity.

 “Say it, Ginevra Weasley”. An acidic poison filtered through her words as she waited for the statement that would confirm what her heart already knew.

 “You kissed Viktor”, she finished, in a whisper.

 And there it all was. Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as her tiny body shook with rage. The ultimate reason for her broken heart and her pain, for her frustration and her bitterness, for the caresses and kisses that were denied her and given to another, for the worst months of her live in short, was finally before her.

 Feeling the bile rise in her throat she began to turn around to run to a toilet where she could vomit when she felt her elbow being caught as she listened:

 “Hermione, I. . . I'm sorry.”

 That was already more than he could bear.

 “Are you sorry? You, who call yourself my best friend, do you feel sorry?” For months she had been containing all her feelings of pain, resentment and hate under a seemingly flawless facade, but Ginny's confession had caused a rift and all that steam that had now found a weak spot was uncontainable. “And what exactly are you sorry for, Ginny? Are you sorry you didn't tell me so I could have tried to fix it at the time? Or are you sorry you to stole my hope and my chance for happiness? Or maybe are you sorry you didn't keep Dean's tongue inside your big mouth and avoid destroying everything”, she said as he trembled with anger and pain, feeling the magic crackling between her fingers, asking for permission to claim her wand and curse the redheaded traitor.

 “You knew how I felt about your brother”, her face reddened with pure fury, as her eyes filled with the tears of broken hope. “You knew I was afraid of how Ron would react if he found out about Viktor. I begged you, I pleaded with you to keep it a secret“, her voice began to break. “I supported, comforted and suggest you when you were a nervous wreck with Harry. I defended you so that your brothers would not leave you behind and take you out of danger like a weak little girl unable to defend herself. I put my heart in your hands and my trust in your silence and you… you betrayed it all because you couldn't control your temper when they stopped you having a goddamn shag with your boyfriend?”

 Okay. Hermione had overstepped the mark. Ginny wasn't a Weasley for nothing. She understood that she was broken by the pain, but it was also true that she needed to learn something and, by Merlin! She was going to learn it! Even if it meant casting a full-body binding spell on her! The pain and remorse for the involuntary betrayal of her friend was not the only thing on Ginny Wesley’s conscience. There was also something else, and it was time to bring it out into the open.

 “It was your fault that you and Ron never got anywhere too, Granger! I'm sorry, but that was”. Hermione felt as if the previous insult had been added to a slap. Not only was the charge harsh, but Ginny had used her last name, something that only happened when she was particularly angry. She wanted to answer, but she didn't have time to reply before the temperamental redhead started talking again without taking her eyes off the stunned prefect.

 “Do you ever really wonder why he's with Lavender and not with you? Have you ever really tried to put yourself in his shoes to understand what he saw in her or what she offered him and that you never gave him?”

 Hermione felt again the taste of bile rise in her throat and only the anger that burned inside her like hellfire prevented her from vomiting right there.

 “Sex! That hooker is shagging him. . .” escaped between her teeth in a hiss so low and so loaded with hate and contempt that it seemed pure poison.

  “For Merlin’s beard!” Hermione was surprised to find Ginny who rolled her eyes in obvious disbelief. “Do you really think Ron's with her because they're fucking like rabbits, Hermione? Merlin! I knew Ron was a tough cookie, but I think you could give him a run for his”. Her eyes fell back on the increasingly stupefied, frizzy-haired witch.

 “And, when were they supposed to start ‘copulating’, Hermione?”Ginny made an obscene gesture with both hands and a finger. “He was stuck with you from the time the course started until the day you decided to stop talking to him. You shared classes; you shared patrols around the school. He had the quidditch training sessions. When he was in the common room he was joking or slaughtering Harry at chess and when it was neither of those things, he was with you in the library begging you to help him with his homework. So unless he has a time-turner or is sneaking out at night, can you tell me what time of day he takes to sneak out and to shagging Lavender into the wall?” Ginny thought her explanation had made the point, but as she watched the brunette's frown grow into a gesture of intense concentration she could not help but be horrified.

 “I can't believe it!” She raised her arms to the incredulous sky. “You're really considering what I said? Well, I have to tell you something, genius! Two people are needed for that activity. Did you ever see Lavender mysteriously disappear before all this mess and, come back dishevelled, with hickeys or looking appropriately fucked?”

 Ginny was reassured to see the light of sanity in Hermione's eyes again, but this was quickly replaced with a deep sadness that obscured her gaze.

 “So, if it wasn't the sex, I don't know what you mean, Ginny. I understand what he sees in her. Lavender is everything I'm not physically, but I've been her friend since first year. I thought he would appreciate that much more.”

 Ginny's disbelief in Hermione's blindness was reaching cosmic proportions.

 “Exactly! That's what he sees. To a woman who offers him the attention of a friend and sometimes less than that. He has never seen from you any attention or, Merlin, not so much as a compliment’ that reflects more than friendship for him, Hermione!” she spat  while the other girl seemed to look like a victim of a stunning spell, but Ginny pressed on, determined not to give Hermione any chance to replicate.

 “You never told him he was worth it! A mention at the end of the third year after Sirius broke his leg, and little else! Never as quidditch player. Damn it! You didn't even see him in his victory last year, when he was the star of the game without being, for once, under Harry's shadow, grounded by the disgusting toad. No. You left with Hagrid. You ignored him again. He understands you putting him behind Harry, but Hagrid? For Merlin’s sake, Hermione”, the temperamental redhead put her hands on her hips, meanwhile she went back to her bewildered friend again. “You've seen his performance in DA. He's the best duellist after Harry. He only fails when he's confronted with you. The poor jerk is not even able to hold his wand properly when he has your image in front of him. . .” a mischievous smile slips on Ginny's face for the first time. . . “in your presence, at least.”

 Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide as a furious blush covered her cheeks at the prying comment of the meddling sister, and her heart seemed to go crazy in her chest when she wonders what she meant and one, not at all honest, image of Ron “wand in hand” seems to venture into her mind, causing a shudder in her belly.

 But before she can revel in it, the truce given by the youngest of the Weasleys concludes.

 “Did you ever tell him he was a good wizard? No; not like a friend, not like a partner, but a WIZARD. Did you ever really fight for him?”

 Ginny was sorry. It really pained her to yell at her best friend that way, especially when she saw Hermione’s face in pain. It was one thing to launch an offense of the moment and quite another to proceed with a full-blown assault, but it was too late. A dam had been broken and the torrent was already uncontrollable, moreover. Some things needed to be said and done, no matter how much they might hurt and perhaps make them look.

 “Lavender did it! She noticed a wizard she liked, she found him funny, she found him fanciable, handsome, worthy of being shown off as her boyfriend and who knows what else in my dumb brother, and she showed her! That's why you lost him. Because you drowned in your own insecurity and fed his! And it won't be because you didn't have more than one warning!” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her know-it-all friend.

 “Do you really think that Padma Patil, proud Ravenclaw and one of the most beautiful girls in the whole school, didn't have other suitors for the Yule Ball? Or... Are you seriously going to argue that you didn’t notice how Luna was staring at him all of last year?

 It was as if Hermione had been hit with a stinging spell. Of course! She had noticed the sustained glances the grey-eyed blonde had given Ron and the conversations she seemed to be looking for when the meeting was over. Although compared to what she felt against Lavender it was a trifle, that time was definitely when she felt the green-eyed monster establish a permanent camp in his heart.

 “You can be thankful that he's completely clueless, or he could’ve ended up giving his heart to someone a long time ago”, she said with a suggestive eyebrow.

 “But no. You decided to stay in no-man-land, with no initiative, ignoring warnings. Perhaps thinking… no, hoping… that no one else would notice him. Obviously, he won't have a second look from Madame Rosmerta right now and you might even find it comical to remember the Yule Ball incident with Fleur, but if you took a moment to reflect on who Fleeeeeerg's fiancé is, you might find out what another Weasley looks like”, she said with an eyebrow raised again as one of the corners of his mouth seemed to rise in a mocking smile. “Maybe if she hadn't met Bill and Ron had gotten a couple more years to grow up. . . Well, Gabrielle is a Delacour too, is veela too and she's pretty cute, don't you think?” Ginny's smile looked awfully similar to George and Fred's when they were preparing some of their shenanigans against Ron. “Really I don't know, though. After all, my brother seems to have a thing for women “older..." with her fingers, she simulated the quotation marks“...that him.”

 If Hermione's brain seemed to have been blocked with the information overload, her heart, which had seen all the signs! It seemed to have been used as the model in one of Professor McGonagall's classes and transformed into an angry hummingbird that buzzed in her chest protesting that it'd been silenced for so long and shouting I told you so!

  “Maybe, deep down, you're still seeing the eleven-year-old boy you met on the train”, Hermione’s shoulders sank in resignation, “and you didn't realize that boy is long gone! Someone's here! Someone claimed him as her own! And now, you're learning the lesson he learned in fourth year: that one day someone could come along and take him away from you...  FOREVER.”

 That had been overwhelming. Hermione felt as if she had been caught in an avalanche and it was dragging her helplessly down the mountain, unable to resist its uncontrollable power.

 “B. . . Bu...” she stuttered as she tried to pull herself together. “But I… I gave him clues. I invited him to Professor Slughorn's party; I kis... kissed him before the game. . .”

 “On the cheek, damn it!” Ginny blew up, interrupting her. “Like if he was just a brother or a baby boy!”

 “He hasn’t ever implied that he has any other interest in me”, her voice fell in a whisper that did not even seem to have the strength to convince herself. “H... He called me a nightmare once.”

 “Merlin’s beard, Hermione! He was an eleven-year-old boy who was overwhelmed by a girl who had read and memorized all the books of the first year before starting school and who in her first class of spells, casted a perfect spell on her first attempt when she didn't even know she was a witch until three months before.”

 “Is that it, then?” If there was a daze before, it was now as if she were in the presence of a boggart facing her worst fears. “He thinks he must be with a pureblood because I am a freak who should have been a pitiful witch for being mugg-muggleborn and...” Her thoughts died on her lips when she suddenly found herself at the other side of Ginny's wand.

 “Don't even complete that sentence, Granger,” Ginny's face had become so red that it was practically purple. “Don't even think about completing it”, she hissed. “Ron may be too blind to see what's right in front of his eyes, but I won't have you insulting my brother like that”. Her voice is practically vibrating with wrath. “You didn't see him completely devastated at your bedside after the raid on the mystery department, nor when he came, every night! To watch over you when the basilisk petrified you, back in your second year!”, Hermione's eyes open wide as a moan escapes her chest at the revelation, but the redhead is not finished with her.

 “Did you know he confronted McGonagall and Mrs Pomfrey when they wanted to force him to stop visiting you? That he fought a giant spider for you? Don't you remember when he spent an afternoon throwing up slugs for you? Yeah. He may be a more of an oblivious prat than anyone else I know, but his heart has always been in the right place. Maybe the problem is that there's more than oblivious prat round here.”

 “You always told him that Krum was just a friend, but you never told him that you did NOT love Viktor and you didn't know or didn't want, to caught him between the rock and the wand and ask him: Why are you jealous? and force him to confess. With all the stupid fights you have all the time! The most important was the one you didn't provoke it, when you know, Ron works best with a direct approach and is very insecure under the shadow of his brothers, but there are more so”.

 “Your pride got the better of you and you never told him you were Krum's Yule’s Ball partner. If you had told him, he might have had more time to deal with it. But  you didn’t. Without wanting to, you rubbed it in his face and you never stopped to think that when he saw you on Krum’s arm, before the jealousy, he must have felt that you didn’t trust him.”

 “You didn't realize, I'll give you that”, she raised her hand before Hermione can even hear the whole sentence, “you were always comparing him to Harry. . . Harry, the handsome one. . . Harry, who grew up so much last summer. . . Harry, with his manly scars. . . Harry, the bloke... Harry, the fanciable one. . . Harry, the great teacher. . . Harry, who kissed Cho “in a more than satisfactory way. . . Harry, who you never accused of being an insensitive wart or of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. . . even though Harry is as blind and made the same mistakes, if not bigger, about girls, as Ron”, the redhead's voice broke for one moment.

 “Yes. You invited him to Professor Horace's party, but do you remember how you did it? You didn't tell him that you want to go with him, but, that guests were allowed to bring companions and that you had planned to invite him. How do you think that sounded to him? Perhaps, like an act of mercy towards the mediocre friend of The Chosen One and The most brilliant witch of her generation, The Slug Club’s honour guests?” Ginny questioned Hermione with a look. “You told me how excited you were to have quality time with him at Grimmauld Place before Harry came, remember? You told me and only because I had you over a barrel, but did you ever tell him? How happy you were to be able to share some quality time, you with him? Have you realized that he always invited you to our home, but you never invited him to yours?”

 “And finally”, Ginny's pupils were so high that it looked like her eyes were going to roll back on themselves, “the icing on the cake. Instead of telling him he wouldn't have needed the Felix potion, because you were sure he would be able to play an extraordinary game on his own, you attacked him for using it. A perfect continuation of what happened in the summer before fifth year. Who was elected prefect, Hermione? It was Harry, wasn't it?”

 Hermione felt as if a stone had been tied to her feet and thrown into the coldest dungeon. Ginny had laid out the facts in a cold, one-on-one manner, as if she were a court prosecutor giving her an overview she had never acknowledged before. But of all that, what hurt her most, it was the mention of Ron's prefecture. She would have been happy to give up her soul in order to correct that terrible mistake and, even then, the implacable redhead did not seem to have finished with her.

 “And you can still be thankful he doesn't know what you did with McLaggen in the keeper trials”. As soon as she heard her, she was no longer hopelessly abandoned in a dirty dungeon, but her hands were tied behind her back, a bag was placed over her head and she was thrown into the sea as she sank irretrievably into an abyss that did not allow her to breathe. “Harry just used a mind trick on him. He made him to think he was invincible because Harry had cheated, but. . . YOU DID IT! Can you imagine what it'd do to his self-esteem if he found out about that? That would make him see that you see him as useless. Like a snotty baby who needs to be helped to walk, unable to do anything good by himself. . .”

 “IT'S A ROTTEN LIE!” The burst of the heartbreaking scream gave way to uncontrollable crying. The grief that had gradually set in Hermione's chest could no longer be contained and she could no longer bear it. “It has never been like that”, a whiny whisper escaped her lips before she put her hands over her face and felt herself falling to her knees on the cold stone.

 “It's never been like this.” If seeing Ron with Lavender had been like having her heart ripped out of her chest, Ginny had ripped her soul out like a dementor leaving her hollow, empty inside. In the last remnants of her sanity she wondered if all the Weasley siblings had the gift of cruelty.

 “He's extraordinary”. She sobbed. “He doesn't realize it, but he is and that frustrates me so much”, she confessed. “He doesn't realize it, but I see it. I've been watching it ever since I saw that long and gawky redheaded guy with dirt on his nose. He was adorable when he tried to do magic with Pettigrew trying to turn him yellow. Why do you think it hurt me so much to be called a nightmare, when I had been called worse things in my old muggle school?”

 Now the surprise had changed sides and it was the redheaded Weasley who was left with her eyes wide open as she felt the longing in her friend's voice.

 “Because it was him who told me!” She almost screamed, raising her face to the sky to confront her inquisitor. “I wouldn't have cared if the insult came from anyone else! I was already ignoring the “know-it-all”, “cactus-head” and “beaver-toothed” comments that some were giving me, but I didn't care about him. I wanted to be his friend. His friend! That's why I was willing to lie to McGonagall!”

 The crying had finally stopped and as she focused her inflamed, red eyes on her best friend, they began to glow with the passion behind them.

 “Do you really think I don't see the kind of extraordinary wizard. . .? NO!”  She interrupted herself and there was real pride in her voice now.

  “Not because he's wizard! It would be exactly the same if he were muggle. Do you think I don't see the kind of extraordinary MAN he's meant to be as long as he has a little more confidence in himself?” She had raised her chin now when pride in her best friend had surged over her chest threatening to pop the buttons on her shirt while, the vocal inflection she imprinted when she referred to him as man made a chill run down Ginny's back from the back of her neck to where her back loses its honest name.

 No. That was not desire only. It was much more! It was a wild wish. Primary and possessive like the predator that stalks its prey. Ginny had no doubt that if at that moment her carefree brother had turned up there; despite her anger, despite her spite, Hermione would have cornered him against the wall and ridden him like a wild beast marking him as her own forever, and yet the temperamental redhead grasped something else. Underneath that entire wish, there was something else. Something she knew but had never understood in its fair measure until then.

 Love.

 A love so immeasurable and desperate that it could consume all the lives that Hermione Jean Granger could live.

 “Do you think I haven't seen how loyal he is? Do you think I don't see the gratitude he professes for Harry since he chose him over Malfoy before he was classified?” Hermione had lost all inhibition and stood proudly on the ground. She had been accused without knowing the fullness of her feelings for Ron. Good. So be it. In return, she would bare her soul and burn everyone who saw it with the burning radiance of her love for him.

 “Ronald would be able to go down to hell with one arm tied behind his back if Harry asked him to. Yes, that's right. I didn't know about the acromantula affair or his confrontation with the teachers, but knowing that doesn't change what I feel, because that's not the fear that nests in my heart. No”, she said as she nodded her head. “My terror is not to know what or how many more times he's done it. I saw him standing front of Sirius, battered, bleeding, with a broken leg,... no wand and willing to be an insurmountable wall between Harry and me. Willing to drop dead rather than let him pass”, his proud pose now cracks and for a moment his body trembles, but she pulls herself together. Her face hardens again and her gaze returns to her best and most painfully sincere friend.

 “No Ginevra. That's not what grips my heart and squeezes it like a black claw. I am not afraid of all he has done, because he has done it, it is past and now he is here, safe and with me. What terrifies me is what he will do”, an atom of understanding appears in the eyes of the redhead what is quickly replaced with fear when she comes to understand all the consequences of Hermione's point. “I know it. One day he'll come between me and a deadly curse and he will be taken from me by it, Ginny. He'll be ripped away from me and there's nothing I can do to stop him”. There was so much love in Hermione's eyes, so much devotion, so much pride and so much despair that Ginny's heart trembles as she notices the moisture flooding her own eyes.

 “And I don't need that to love him. I used to do it before all that. It just makes me love him even more. With such intensity and such desperation that it hurts Ginny. It really hurts”. Tears now roll freely down both women's faces.

 “Do you think I don't know that he sees himself as stupid, ignorant and mediocre in everything? But I've seen him beat McGonagall when he was twelve. I have seen him develop a brilliant strategy to protect Harry and me with the cost of his own life on a deadly chessboard”, again her voice trembled, as she relived in her mind that horrible scene of Ron being brutally beaten by the queen while for the second time, the youngest of the Weasleys regretted opening her big mouth and how similar she was to her closest brother.

 “You're saying I don't realize his magical abilities? That, I can't see that he's with the same level as Harry? But have you noticed how much better a wizard he is than I am?” Hermione has a dark satisfaction in watching Ginny's wide open eyes. She, who has accused her of despising her brother, is not innocent of the same sin.

 “He hardly studies. He falls asleep in all the history of Magic classes, is always late to write his essays. . . So what? He is able to perform any spell once he has seen the technique; he doesn't even need to study it. I can’t see it before, but I understood it at the end of last year. He doesn't give a damn about any data or magic that has no practical application. Now he causes hilarity because in class of transformations he invoked a huge moustache when the spell failed”, a sad smile comes to her face when she remembers the scene. “But when he finds out how useful they can be in hiding from the Deatheaters, to do body transformations will be like breathing for him”. Hermione pauses for a moment, as if needing to rearrange his thoughts after his vehement exposure, and on his serious face, an ironic smile is drawn.

 “So, how did he feel overwhelmed by me when I levitated a quill at Professor Flitwick's class?” And now it was the fire of defiance that burns in her eyes when she turns to Ginny.

 “He used ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ to knock out a mountain with its own club in the middle of a combat to death” And just in that moment, Ginevra Molly Weasley realized that in front of her was not a haughty Hermione Jean Granger, but the still unconscious Ron Weasley’s wife in fiery and proud vindication of her husband.

 “The only problem is his damn insecurity”, there was a hint of sadness in her voice now. “He feels so inadequate under the shadow of all of you that, God! Sometimes I feel in my fingers the magic to curse all of you for having contributed to that. But when he is safe, when he is calm, when he does not feel the need to prove himself to anyone, when he does not have time to think or when no one sees him, he is amazing. I. . . I only cause him to he see himself as he is, as the others see him, as Luna see him!” She sobs. “There's not a more beloved prefect in the whole school! Every time a student has a problem, they go after him. It doesn't matter what house they are. Everyone knows they can count on him. Did you know that I learned the names of all the students of Gryffindor from him, Ginny?” Surprised, she shakes her head without saying a word. She was intensely aware that she shouldn’t interrupt Hermione's cathartic process now. “He knows the names of all the students in the lower years of Gryffindor. I imagine that even the sixth and seventh years and everyone goes to him when they have a problem in their real life or get into a mess. Not like me, they only come to me when they have problems with their homework and they do it not because he is soft or he will not punish them. I've seen him put such imaginative and appropriate punishments that would make McGonagall want to adopt him! No, it's nothing like that. It is because he understands them and helps them when they really need it, but he is so convinced that he is mediocre, he is so afraid to fail that he simply suffocates herself and slips up because of it”.

 “That's why he didn't ask you to be his date at the Yule Ball”, Hermione is surprised when Ginny takes the floor again. There's no reproach in her tone now, just warmth. “That idiot, he was dying to invite you. Believe me, I know”. Ginny raised her hand gently to Hermione's threat of interruption, who had opened her mouth to give her the counterpoint.

 “But he was terrified, Hermione. He couldn’t just see you as his best friend anymore to become someone he likes in the romantic sense of the word. The poor idiot wanted to hide it saying those silly things about going with the prettiest girl, or that since you both didn't have a partner you could go together and all that dragon shit”, she said, raising her hands and rolling her eyes at the same time, “and you saw how it ended that night. He went with one of the two most beautiful, exotic and noticed girls in the school, but he didn't dance her, he didn't give her a compliment, he didn’t give her a glance, because of how jealous he was of Viktor Krum.”

 Ginny had taken the hand of the brunette with the furious hair and red eyes in front of her. All the initial frustration had faded as she discovered the intensity of Hermione's feelings for her brother, and now she just wanted to give her the comfort she really needed. To be the friend she was supposed to be.

 Hermione, on the other hand, was devastated. If physically this confrontation added to her exhaustion from the last few days, emotionally she was a broken doll, and the tears that ran down her cheeks were the irrefutable proof of that. She felt her legs fail her and let herself slide down the wall of the corridor until she was seated on the hard floor of the castle. In a moment of rage and pain, she had opened the doors of her heart wide to her best friend. She had taken out of her chest all that anger and pain that she had been feeling for months and now, instead of a little peace, what she found was an immense emptiness, a darkness so dark that she was surprised that her heart continued beating, because seemed that it was only fed with that anger and now, in its absence, it found no sense to continue beating.

 Her silent crying was interrupted for a moment when she felt her friend sit beside her and wrap her in a warm hug. There was no hostility there anymore, just warmth and an offer of comfort that she accepted crying out loud.

 “I had bought a new dress for the slug meeting”, she whispered between hiccups and sobs after a moment. “Since I couldn't have that ball with him, I wanted, oh God!” She sighed. “I… I really wanted to have a real first date with him that was perfect. I even intended to be much more aggressive...”, a sad smile escaped her lips that broke Ginny's heart when she saw it“... with him that night. I even thought about having a couple of drinks to loosen up a bit and make it easier”. The longing in her eyes made the youngest of the Weasleys understand the double meaning of the phrase when she heard it. “And, what happened, Ginny? I missed his first kiss and I lost him.”

 “Then you know what you have to do when that pair of squids break off”. The freckled redhead had genuine love in her eyes when she said it and gently pressed her hug when the brunette looked at her with a face of disbelief.

 “Oh, come on! Don't look so surprised, Hermione. That relationship won't last. Ron is not comfortable with Lavender. It's true that she has improved his self-esteem, but he doesn't love her. There's got to be a lot more than kissing in a relationship with Ron. He needs passion, vehemence, fire. There has to be someone to incite him, to challenge him, to cause him to be better, do you remember?" She said, raising his eyebrows as she wrote “quotations marks" with her fingers.

 “He needs you.”

 That says it all. The two join into a comforting embrace, each resting her head on the other's shoulder, and while the only daughter of the Weasley clan feels the moisture seeping through her sweater and the tremor of her disheartened friend, this one can barely hear the “stupid blindness” that Ginny mumbles.

 “Miss Weasley, Miss Granger! What are you supposed to be doing at this time outside their common room?”

 Sitting on the floor, Ginny was stupefied for a moment and then, the next moment, she burst out laughing uncontrollably, causing her hands to fall to her ribs as she rolled on the floor in a very undignified position, seeing how “by magic", the “perfect prefect” seems to have apparate standing next to the head of the house, defying the rule that she has repeated countless times, ‘No one can apparate at the Hogwarts grounds...’

 “Miss...Miss Weasley! Just what is so funny. . . ?” But the redheads uncontrollable laughter interrupted her.

 Meanwhile, at the same time Ginny tried to point her trembling finger at one Hermione Granger, who seemed to have inherited the Weasley superpower to redness to the point of spontaneous combustion.

 “Miss Weasley”, without losing her composure in the face of the unusual scene, Minerva McGonagall tried to take control of the bewildering picture, although in reality she didn’t seem in the least surprised. “Please pull yourself together, stand up! I hope you have a satisfactory explanation for your behaviour.”

 “Prof... Professor” , Hermione's timid attempt is again interrupted, with another roaring laugh from Ginny, who can barely stand on her shaky legs as she kept pointing at her friend and her face seemed to be about to split in two for a grinning from ear to ear.

 “Shit on it, Hermione! For Merlin's sake. . .”

 “Miss Weasley!”

 “Just a moment ago...” Ginny seemed to ignore the presence of the transformation teacher as she continued her jocular chatter “...you were talking about how to try and relax, so you could have the courage to face Ro. . . the ‘asshole’ and do what you want and, as soon as Professor McGonagall appears, you jump up and down and get stiff as if a stick had been shoved up your arse? What. . .”

 “MISS WEASLEY!” At this moment the teacher's face looked absolutely horrified with the colourful language from the youngest of the Weasley family.

 “Ginny. I sincerely believe that this is not the time. . .”Whispered a brunette with her hair more frizzy than ever, as she threw an Avada Kedavraish look at her shameless friend who, seemed to have either uncontrollable verbal incontinence or an unparalleled suicidal wish. Meanwhile Ginny continued to talk without realising it.

 “Are you going to be just as stunned when he freezes and a trickle of slime when you “turn more aggressive with. . .”

 “ENOUGH!” Raising both her voice and her hand in an energetic gesture that cannot be replied to Mc Gonnagall interrupted the diatribe and laughter of the fifth year student, who finally seemed to notice the presence of her teacher. “I don't really care anymore why you are out of their rooms after curfew and not even what it was all about”, she said, as she puts two finger to the bridge of her nose as if she had a terrible headache. “The point is that you both are contravening the rules of the school and therefore both deserve a detention”, provoking the immediate face of terror of the sixth year prefect.

 “Miss Weasley. It's not just the fact you are wandering around the castle after hours, doing who knows what? But I will not consent to the use of such vulgar and rude language in my presence. So, next Friday, you will report to Mr. Filch who will tell you which toilets to clean. . . no magic.”

 “As for you, Miss Granger; I really cannot understand why you did not immediately accompany Miss Weasley to Gryffindor Tower neglecting your duties as prefect. Do you have anything to say that might excuse you?”

 “Actually, I think I can, Professor McGonagall”, which provokes a gleam of curiosity in the glances now directed at her, from the punished student and the Transfiguration Professor simultaneously. “But it's not in my defence”, she says, looking up from her shoes, “but in the case of Ginevra Molly Weasley”, a perverse smile hints at Hermione's face that quickly becomes sweet, when she see a grimace of annoyance at her friend's as soon she was called with her full name. “Actually, I was having a problem focusing on one of my assignments and she offered me a new perspective”, she says just at the instant she turns away for a moment her eyes from her favourite teacher, to offer a warm smile to the stubborn redhead.

 “Well, that's a commendable attitude no doubt, Miss Weasley”, for a moment the latter of them thinks she detects the flash of a smile on the teacher's face, but it's so fleeting that she thinks she's imagining it. “But both of you will understand that the corridors of Hogwarts at dawn are neither the place nor the time for such things, for which the sanctions are still in force. Are you both aware of this?”

 “We are, Professor McGonagall.” They both answer together.

 “Good. Gryffindor will be deducted ten points for each of you for being out of the common premises after curfew and Miss Weasley will be deducted another five points for inappropriate language. I would recommend that you do not reply, Miss Weasley”, she adds, seeing like the redhead was making the attempt to protest, “and thank Miss Granger for her defence. Initially I was planning to deduct another ten points.”

 “I'll thank you very much, Hermione”, she mumbles in a buzzing tone that makes the target of  her gratitude shudder imagining the kind of thank you that must be planning to give her the explosive temperament of the redhead. “All right. I think it's time for us to get back to the tower and get some rest for the rest of the night”, she says in a breath.

 It was at the moment when both students have turned around and started to withdraw in the direction of Gryffindor Tower when:

 “By the way. . .” the voice of the head of Gryffindor house forced them to turn around to face her again and find her with her back to them.

 “I think that change of perspective will be very useful to you, Miss Granger”, she adds as she turns his head and stares over his glasses at the surprised prefect.

 “Wha..Yeah?. . . err. Yes. I. . . I think it’ll be, professor. Yes, I'm sure it will be. Thank you very much”, stutters the dazed brunette meanwhile Ginny bit her hand in a desperate attempt not to burst into laughter once again.

 “I expected no less from you, Miss Granger. You're dismissed.”

 And so, while the two students of the renowned Hogwarts School of Magic and Sorcery, one of them in a state of shock and the other one barely able to contain her laughter, headed back to their tower, Professor McGonagall finally headed for her own quarters, the beginnings of a smile on her face:

 “Fifty points for Gryffindor...”  to his mind comes, the memory of the great dining room adorned in green and silver, while a venerable aged man with white beard speaks and one chubby and fearful child, listens astonished his words.  '. . . It takes great courage to stand up to our enemies, but it takes the same courage to stand up to friends. . .'  "Miss Weasley.”

 The End.

 Notes:

I would like to thank to the incredible @headcanonsandmore, for her invaluable help in completing the English version of the text. Without her, it really wouldn't have been possible. I think this is, so far, my best work, and if there's anyone it deserves to be dedicated to, it's you. Again, thank you very much for your help.

 This is the work that, I really would have liked to present at the @romioneficfest 2020, but it turned out to be a bit long. . . more than 10 times longer, but... a lovelly Dragon, gave me a chance.

:)

Thanks to read.

 #Romione #Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ginny Weasley #Ron Weasley #Luna Lovegood #Mental Anguish #Love Confessions #True Love #Friendship #Missing Moments

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513438

[interestsofabookwormbitch]

Bakugo and Endeavor Are Not the Same.

Look, I know this isn't gonna get a lot of traction because I don't have a lot of bnha followers, but I still feel the need to elaborate on my feelings. Also warning: long post. I also made it on mobile so I can't do the read more thing. You'll just have to scroll really fast if you don't want to see it. Sorry.

I've seen many people on Tumblr still hate Endeavor, and don't want to forgive him, which is fair. I personally love where the story is going with him and his family, and how everyone has a different stance on how they feel. It's cool, and they've even established how forgiveness is not necessary, so that's good. But again, if you don't like it, or you do like it, but won't ever consider thinking anything nice of Endeavor, I 100% understand and support that. It's your life and your opinion. Hell, I'm not even sure if I'll forgive him, I just like the story.

Anyways, the issue I wanted to address were some comments I've seen on people hating Endeavor. Basically they say that if you forgive and like Bakugo now you HAVE to forgive Endeavor. This is what I want to talk about, because no you don't.

First of all, and the most glaring reason of all, if the age difference. Bakugo was an asshole 14 year old bully, whereas Endeavor was a wholeass adult. That right there makes their situations leagues different. You can't even convict kids of murder at that age (usually). (I'm not saying Bakugo would murder anyone. Despite his frequent use of the word he wouldn't. I was just giving an extreme example). That's because it is widely understood that kids at that age are not fully developed. They oftentimes don't understand the gravity of their actions, and are extremely selfish beings. I'm only 18 now, but I'm a completely different person from when I was 14. I may not have been a bully, like Bakugo, but I was kind of a bitch.

Yes Bakugo was a horrible 14 year old. Yes he was a bully. Yes he made Midoriya's life hell. And yes he did tell Midoriya to kill himself. All of these are horrible, detestable things. We can agree on that. But the thing is, Bakugo never for a second actually thought Deku would do it. Never. He barely understood that bullying was wrong. As far as he was concerned that was how life was supposed to work. The strong conquer the weak (makes me wonder how his home life is. Like is Mitsuki abusive or not? Idk, but that's a whole other can of worms we're not getting into).

Bakugo's an aggressive asshole who hasn't fully developed as a person. He's still got plenty of time to grow and change. He has made leaps and bounds in the right direction, and is starting to become a better person. Yes he still has plenty of room to grow, but he's doing much better, and I, for the most part, forgive him. He will be a good hero and person one day, despite his initial rocky start, and I can't wait to see that. Really the only thing in Bakugo's storyline that I still want, and am not certain I'll get, is an apology. Just one Bakugo apology to Midoriya and it'll be perfect (Although that would come at the end of the series almost certainly).

On the flip side of things is Endeavor. Endeavor who was an adult and at least 23 years old since he had his first child (off topic. This makes me believe the twin theory more. Now I may have to make a separate post on that). Well admittedly he is still not fully developed mentally, he is way way closer, and can definitely understand that what he was doing was wrong. On top of that when he had Shoto he was 31, so 35 when he started training him. By that point he is fully developed and still doing that shit. Anyways, Endeavor knew full well what he was doing during this time. He understood the gravity of his actions and he still chose to continue. Unlike Bakugo who, as a child, was almost certainly not thinking his actions through, Endeavor had time to plan and carefully construct this life.

That is where they differ really. For Bakugo everything was a heat of the moment passion and hate fueled rage, mixed with a lot of childhood selfishness on top of his already selfish nature and a definite dose of just lack of awareness of the gravity of shit, which we can attribute to his age.

Endeavor on the other hand took his critical thinking skills he's gained over the years, and instead of looking at himself and thinking maybe being number one wasn't the most important thing, went and created this whole vile plan to beat out All Might in the long run. He forced a woman into marriage (how much did she agree to their marriage? Because where she is now it would be no I believe, but also like, if you really think of the implications of her being unwilling to marry him, that also means he'd have raped her. Likely not in the usual forceful screaming way the media portrays, but still.... When I think of that I get a really gross feeling) and abused each and every one of his children. Never once over the 23 years he's been with them did he stop to think about what he was doing and how that was wrong. Never once did he take the time to look at his actions.

As a child, like Bakugo, that is somewhat excusable. The actions that followed it may not be, but the act of not looking critically at yourself is not inherently wrong in childhood, as I don't think that children really have the skill to do so. And yes, even 14 year olds, because, despite how much they want to claim otherwise, they are in the height of "the world revolves around me and nothing else matters" stage, which makes them blind to their own faults.

When you're an adult, however, the whole situation is completely different. You now definitely have the skills and tools required to take a look at yourself and realize what you're doing is wrong. The reason Endeavor didn't is because who chose not to. He chose to ignore his faults and force his wife and kids to bend under his rule. He didn't stop and think about his actions after the likely countless times he's left his kids broken and crying. He didn't stop to think after Rei poured the boiling water on Shoto's face, even after Shoto called him out. He didn't stop to think after he became estranged from Natsou. And he didn't stop to think after his first born child died! 

No, Endeavor did these horrible things, and never once stopped to look at them. When shit happened he blamed other people and other things. He never once considered he could be at fault. Even Bakugo, at the age of 15 has begun to realize that his issues lie in himself and not others. Another area where they differ greatly, because it took Endeavor getting everything he ever wanted in the worst way possible for him to see that. It took Bakugo being beaten down to learn this. Bakugo was able to, eventually, admit his losses as his own, and realize he needed to change. Endeavor was blinded by his own refusal to see his losses as his own, and thus was unwilling to change.

It also stands to note that Bakugo is still only a child, and could better admit his faults, even if only to himself, than a 45 (now 46) year old man.

Now, I should note that Endeavor has finally figured out he has been a complete and utter piece of trash his whole life, and is genuinely trying to better himself. I ripped a lot on him, but I do appreciate that, but there is the problem of "Too little too late" which Natsu definitely has taken as his stance.

This is a kind of iffy point, but basically what I'm gonna say is Bakugo had one target/victim (that we know of). Obviously that was Deku. The thing is, Bakugo has turned over a new leaf and started working on bettering himself at a time where he can maximize his potential atonement to Deku. By this I mean, Deku has started working through his deep seated issues already, and is growing in confidence, Bakugo and him have made up in such a way that Bakugo can even help him with that. It was not Bakugo's intention when deciding to change, but it is what is happening. At the point where the manga is now Bakugo respects and treats Midoriya like worthy adversary (despite what he would say) and actually is willing to give Midoriya advice. He is starting to help Deku grow into his own and better himself (in his abrasive Bakugo way that is). That is a huge step in the direction of atonement. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it does go some way in making up for it.

Most of Endeavor's victims, however, have grown on their own, and he has no way of contributing to fixing what he broke, which makes it harder to forgive him. It's like if I went over to someone's house and destroyed their stuff, denied doing so, only to come back a few years later and try and fix it. Like no. They don't need my help. (In this example Bakugo would be snide person who begrudgingly admits what he did helps a little after you and your friends have already started the process. Not the best, but at least he's helping now).

Anyways, Touya is either dead or Dabi, but either way Endeavor is not gonna be able to help him (for obvious reasons). Fuyumi is leading a happy and healthy life now, no thanks to Endeavor, and nothing he could do will really make it any better. Nastu is also pretty happy now to, again now thanks to Endeavor, and his only issues lie with seeing his father, not something I see him really thinking as an issue (And they're really not). So no fixing there. Rei is almost completely better now according to the doctors, and Endeavor has never seen her in all that time. It's true he sent her flowers, but those really didn't make a difference in her progress (I believe Shoto visiting might have though. But that's neither here nor there in this post). Really the only one he can try and help to grow and move past his abuse of is Shoto, but idk, it seems unlikely. For one Shoto has already begun the healing process because of Deku, and for two, I don't think the issues Shoto have now are something Endeavor himself can fix.

So there's also that to, as weak as that point may be.

Overall though they really are in entirely different situations. Sure the manga likes to compare them, but they barely use the actual abuse storyline as a point of comparison, just the drive to be number one, and the failure to do so. There's too many differences to really compare those parts of their individual storylines and use one to justify the other. And anyone trying to force people to forgive Endeavor just because they forgave Bakugo should really stop and think about why there situations are different. It's more than just the age thing that everyone talks about, but even if it wasn't, that alone is enough to completely change just how wrong the situations were.

And I'm not saying you can't forgive Endeavor either. Go ahead and do just that, I'm not judging, just don't go trying to force other people to do so. And I'm also not saying you have to forgive Bakugo. He was a prick, and I understand why some people wouldn't. I'm just illuminating why these two situations are so completely different from each other.

(Wow. I just wrote two thousand words on this. Yet I still struggle to write thousand word essays. Fuck man)

Sorry again for the long post

[charlemange1]

Ask of the Lesser (Frankenstein/Lovecraft Works): 2 Nothing Beside Remains

My frantic flight from Switzerland had taken weeks on foot through the surrounding woodland. The carriage Curwen purchased after leaving Ingolstadt made the journey in a few days. Towns identical in their destruction passed us by as folks picked through the rubble. Geneva likely suffered a similar fate, and my heart ached for the devastated people this bloody revolution was meant to help! Their torches and pitchforks had given great men power and renown, yet what had Napoleon done to benefit them and their broken windows?

Given my familiar face, Curwen decided to wait until nightfall to visit the cemetery, a decision I did not protest too. Abandoning the carriage, I guided him through the desecrated suburbs of Belrive and welcomed the darkness that hid the extent of the damage done to my former home. Despite my occasional pause for breath, we made good time and the moon had not fully risen when I stopped beside the Frankenstein tomb. In the four years of my absence the wildflowers had taken over, though the stone structure stood as regal as ever. Curwen placed his hat over his heart, content to pay his respects from a distance. I shook the vines from my cane and stumbled to the entrance. My torch lit up the chiseled letters above the sealed door: Frankenstein. My family. Little saplings had sprouted around the tomb, how long until nature reclaimed the only proof my loved ones had existed at all?

A sudden wildness seized me, and my knees hit the ground as I tore out the surrounding weeds and flung them into the night. Dirt clogged my nails as I desperately tried beating back the woodland that cared so little for memories of warm smiles and charity. The effort tightened my lungs and I collapsed in a panting heap, still surrounded. It took me a moment to realize Curwen had vanished. Wiping sweat from my brow, I staggered to the tomb’s entrance where the door stood ajar. An odd chemical scent floated around melted metal where a lock had been.

“Are you finished, then?” Curwen’s voice echoed from inside. “Do come in, they do not bite.”

“What did you do,” I stumbled over to Curwen waiting in the back of the tomb.

“I told you already. I wish to see your brother,” Curwen said. His pupils drew in the surrounding shadows. “Which casket is his? We do not have time for petty guesswork.”

His right hand clutched a crowbar. Reality suddenly dawned on me. I was in a hostile land, breaking into the realm of the dead with a stranger who had allegedly known Victor. Previous encounters had taught me that Victor’s rambles attracted two types of readers: those from the tavern who looked on his actions with terror and disgust, and those who did not.

“You are one of those resurrection men,” I breathed. “A graverobber!”

Curwen’s face was a mask. “Your brother kept like-minded company.”

“Victor did no such thing! It was all in his head!” I snarled. “You actually believe he stitched together rotten corpses and reanimated them to massacre my family?”

“What I believe means little, Victor said so himself,” Curwen carelessly tossed the crowbar on Mama’s casket and pulled Walton’s book from his satchel.

“You are mad,” I stepped away.

“Come now, do you really credit your extraordinary misfortune to mere chance?” Curwen pressed. “That those connected to the Frankenstein family just have a habit of getting their necks snapped? That your sweet maid saw it fitting to murder her little charge and hide his locket in so obvious a place? You speak of madness, yet I find your denial of the evidence precisely that!”

“Nonsense!” My cane struck the floor as though the motion alone could defeat Curwen. “My brother was a genius, yes, but creating life? That is strictly God’s domain!”

“Foolish boy, you do not get it. He beat God! Earths’ at least, had it been the other gods he chose to rival, well, that is beside the point!” Curwen shook his head. “I thought being his brother would have opened your eyes more so than the others, but you people are all the same. So stuck in your beliefs that you are incapable of comprehending the grand scope of genius! Of the power we hold now and will claim in the future!”

           The image came again—Victor shaking his head as I begged to come with him. His voice saying I was too weak. A slammed door. No, I did understand. I was not on the level of Curwen, and certainly not Victor. And Curwen’s voice, crazy as his claims were, had an undercurrent of genuineness I could not ignore. Somehow, he spoke the truth. The caskets stacked around me seemed to grow with the revelation. Those at the tavern were right. My older brother was a monster! And the man smiling in front of me was…?

“I have researched such unhallowed arts as well, and now I too believe I hold the key for such endeavors,” Curwen said. “I can bring him back, Ernest.”

“Why?” I whimpered. “Has he not done enough?”

“You must have read Walton’s biography,” Curwen insisted. “That creature was a blank slate turned black from Victor’s neglect. If the resurrected had memory, had a soul, how much greater would they be?”

“Far worse, if he was a fiend in life!”

“Your brother was onto something revolutionary,” Curwen continued. His hand lifted toward a future I could not see. “My black magic cannot compare, but I can resurrect his soul. You could have him, and once he relates his secrets to me, everyone you have lost returned.”

“They are mere skeletons,” I croaked, unsure of anything now. “You cannot reanimate flesh the worms have long since eaten away.”

“Its essence remains all the same. Decay does not stump me as it did Victor. In many ways, my methods are superior to his, but not permanent. I need him, the same as you. He is your brother.” Curwen held out his hand. It took me a moment to register the gesture.

“You are right,” I said and grasped his fingers with a smile. “I need him too.” With the last word I yanked Curwen forward and struck his head with my cane—the classic surprise attack mentioned in my old combat books. Turning on my heels, I rushed from the tomb and down the moonlit graveyard. Away from this madman and the truth beneath those caskets! My family murdered by a monster of my brother’s own design! A monster he had said nothing of while Justine hung for his crimes. The poor woman, rotting in a criminal’s grave! I had cursed her legacy while showering the real daemon with misplaced sympathy. My knees gave out and I crashed amidst scattered stone and charred wood. It took me a moment to recognize the great oak that towered over what was once my backyard. I had been so fixated on running away that I had forgotten there was no home to run to anymore. Nothing remained of our villa now, it was rubble and ashes.

Different ashes flashed through my mind, and I wept. Wept for William, Justine, Elizabeth, Papa, Henry, and any other hapless victim that had stumbled upon Victor’s creation. Wicked world! Why must I be the sole survivor? Why not those with such promise, not an invalid too blind to see the truth? Yet here I crouched, the least worthy left unclaimed by the spoiler. Had the monster found me too insignificant to kill? Did I mean so little to Victor that his vengeful creation had ignored me? My hands pawed at the rubble, as though reality could be brushed away and I could return to better days. The dust brought on another coughing fit I did little to disguise. If I had caught on sooner, if I was not so weak, they would still be alive.

Weak. I repeated that word to the charred planks and stone until the sun rose. I was powerless, but I knew someone strong. A genius who could peel back the mortal bounds that held me captive. If Curwen brought Victor back…

No, do not think such things. They are not of God!

A God who did nothing to stop the slaughter. What did God care for my little life or those of the peasants crushed by this horrid war? Where had he been when Victor’s creature strangled my baby brother or French officials drowned innocent commoners at Nantes? Why were cruel men set up to rule while their supporters lived in shacks? Either God had a preference for the wicked, or he viewed us humans as I would an ant—how we lived and died were beneath him.

If Curwen brought Victor back, wicked though my brother was, Curwen could force the secret of life from his lips and we could revive those who had been so cruelly slain! I dared to dream, to picture little William chasing grasshoppers in the vineyards again as Elizabeth and Mama (yes, Mama too!) chuckled while we watched him together. It would be sunny with no monsters in that happy home. Victor would be turned away before his delusions of grandeur ruined us again. Yes, yes it would work! Wicked though such work may be, nothing could rival the vile acts that had sealed my family in the tomb to begin with. If that damns me, so be it. I had nothing to lose in the face of failure. I had to find Curwen!

I arrived at a tomb vacant of life. Victor’s casket stood empty.

[distractionactivated]

Spoilery and wildly self-indulgent Thor Ragnarok reaction post:

Alt title: Odin’s A+ Parenting Strikes Back

Alt title: Kestor Was Right About Asgardian Imperialism

This film gets the Official Kestor B ExploringMCUAsgard Worldbuilding Seal of Approval. There was continuity in the set design – I fucking gasped when they went to the vault and it was the fucking VAULT but with better CGI – and the feel and I nearly cried when the Thor 1 music came on. A lot of the things I’ve been saying all along about Odin and Asgardian interrealm politics and history came up – it felt real, it felt right. It was 100% a critique of empire, thank u Taika Waititi, I’ve wanted this FOR FUCKING EVER. Asgard being built atop the bones of its warriors? Its murals behind murals? Its gold come from blood? Oh YES. I love that we saw ordinary Asgardians pick up sword and shield and go toe to toe with undead Einherjar. Fuck yes. I loved seeing Odin’s shiny bullshit wrecked. I LOVED SEEING ASGARD BURN.

One thing world-wise I’m less happy about is that it finally chose the answer to are Asgardians gods? And it chose ‘yes, the royal family are.’ Humph. Grump. ON THE OTHER HAND – if they were going to make that choice they did it in the most awesome way possible so I’ll give it a pass.

I will eviscerate everyone involved in the dialogue for this film. I’m not kidding. Do you know how hard I fought dumbass!Thor? DO YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY YEARS I SPENT IN THAT TRENCH, ME AND OTHER PEOPLE? And now he’s all like, rambling for ten minutes about how he’s totes in with women warriors and babbling at Bruce Banner and freaking him out and dropping shit in Dr Strange’s place (I was very fine with the vandalism but not the fucking. dropping shit) and just. Oh my god I’m so mad.

Like, the actual character arc stuff? Like, if you describe to me the things that happen and he does? I love it. Great characterisation. Unfortunately, every word on the way was AWFUL. Every time he opened his mouth I wanted to fucking die. We spent the whole of Thor 1 curing him of his doucheness, folks! That’s over! That’s done! Holy Shit!

Look, I don’t talk enough about my absolute aversion to cringe comedy, to ‘awkward’ comedy, and to comedy in general. I hate it. And that was the weak point of the film. They assassinated Thor’s character, the subtleties, the nuanced intelligence, the learned gentleness – god I was writing a thesis on THAT shit playing Kehurie -

OTHER THINGS I AM MAD ABOUT: Fandral and Volstagg dying without a fucking word, Hogun with barely more, SIF NOT EVEN BEING MENTIONED. (and they died that way while Scourge got a FUCKign heroic death, which was also hilarious. Ugh.) Jane being written out in ONE, RATHER DISRESPECTFUL LINE.

Although on a Jane note, there is a lovely scene where Bruce and Thor talk science and I’m like, yup, can tell you’ve hung around with Jane some!

On a death note – look, I am mad about the Warriors, but if I was going to see Asgardians mown down the only way I’d be okay with it is if it was the goddess of literal death. I made my feelings on fighting death very clear when I played Riss Marlay, the Herald of Death, and I am okay with her being an unstoppable horrifying force. But still. Give them a fucking DEATH SCENE. Not just an offhand brush aside.

Loki was mostly great – I can FEEL the Loki discourse approaching in my FUCKING BONES btw – although I cringed myself to death throughout the entire play sequence. Awful. Vile.

Oh god, speaking of Loki, I’ve seen people salty that Valkyrie could beat him but  I’m never gonna be pissed about that bc obviously she can fucking flatten him, duh, it was Stephen Fucking Strange getting to yank him and Thor around like fucking toys, like, nah, that’s not what I wanna see in a THOR film. On an intellectual level I can get that there’s something interesting about his conception of sorcery (as something about idk portals or something) vs Loki’s conception of it as something with knives, but also I don’t want to watch some stupid fake American wanker with a shitty beard and a shitty face outwit fucking Loki.

HEIMDALL WAS THE MOST WONDERFUL. Like, lol at the amazing teleporting Asgardian refugees (alternatively, I want to see Hela hiking back and forwards to the mountains, with a backpack, while Thor whistles), but also Heimdall, Resistance Leader, Most Competent of Asgardians, is the most fantastic thing. I want all the Heimdall fic.

Every fight scene was spectacular. Genuinely, stunning. Especially when lightning was involved.

Of the new characters, I absolutely adored both Valkyrie and Korg – Korg was amazing every moment he wasn’t being played for laughs to the point of cringe comedy – and Valkyrie, let’s just say I’m GayTM. The moment Korg was like ‘these Asgardians, man’ – priceless. I loved her drunk mess of a self, I loved the way she moved, I loved the way she fought, I’m very PISSED OFF they deleted the scene that confirms she’s into women, I loved that she got to stab Hela through the heart for her pretty probably-girlfriend.

There was so much tragedy in this film that wasn’t ever – allowed to get real. Like, Thor watched his father die, learned he had a sister, got his ass WRECKED by her, and taken as a slave within about five seconds and he had the tiny length of half an Asgardian prayer (!!!!) to mourn before he was back to making cringe comedy ‘jokes’ at the expense of his old character. And there was Bruce, who – god, that ‘if I turn again I won’t come back’ was so horrifying and Thor just… brushed it off? Thor, who sat with Jane and said, ‘Jane, you must not give up. Because you’re right.’? Thor, who told Sif, ‘Live, and tell those stories yourself’? Thor?!?!

What was that Odin death scene? Like. the fuck? I loved the ‘my wife is calling me’ but like. He just. Vaporised????

That moment where Thor and Hela were like ‘he told you you were worthy’ was so real and again, like, immediately fight. Like, god, it was a cool fight, but also. (also HOLY SHIT AT THE EYE THING THAT WAS INCREDIBLE I’M FUCKING DEAD – but also can someone who’s seen the film enlighten me as to whether the conquerer!Odin mural had him missing an eye bc I can’t remember and if he is CONTINUITY ERROR because he lost that eye fighting the jotnar when Thor was a small child, long after Hela was gone.)

There was a lot of the awesome stuff about imperialism that wasn’t allowed to breathe as well.

Also, the nerdiest thing – I sat there watching the Grandmaster’s induction program and was like, critiquing it? From my perspective as an instructional designer? Holy shit, Kes. Holy shit. ALSO speaking of the Grandmaster that PRISONERS WITH JOBS LINE WAS ABSOLUTELY SAVAGE, LIKE, GET FUCKING WREKT CAPITALISM.

Also speaking of the Grandmaster, that Grandmaster/Loki subtext was basically text. Like, that bit where the Grandmaster’s brain stuttered when he looked at him? Like. uh. More Valkyrie queerness, less queer villains, PLEASE. Or you know, the same amount of queer villains but EXPONENTIALLY MORE GAY VALKYRIE CONTENT.

IN CONCLUSION – eight emotions at once, at full volume! Argh! Argh! I cried hysterically in the credits for ten minutes! I nearly burst into tears a dozen times because it was simultaneously SO WRONG and SO RIGHT! Emotional whiplash! Burning the emotional candle at both ends! Aaargh! I spent half the time with my hand over my face in embarrassment and the other half in joy!