#he thinks the point is like. to teach them to write research papers

[itspileofgoodthings]

My principal doesn’t believe that the point of an English class is to introduce the children to great literature and model loving it, analyzing it, and engaging it for them and with them. But I do.

[misc-obeyme]

Okay back on my human!au ideas. I'm gonna do a compilation post or something because the others are just rambles and they aren't exactly easy to find... I don't even have it in the masterlist anywhere... mostly 'cause these are just ideas that I have no idea what I'm gonna do with. asldfj anyway! Feel free to use them if you feel so inclined!

(For reference: Beel, Belphie, Satan, & Asmo, more Asmo & Mammon - you can also check the tag #misc human au)

Okay so I've talked about all the brothers except for Lucifer and Levi, but here's what I'm thinking.

Basically, I can't really imagine any of the brothers living fully alone, so while Beel & Belphie are both living on the farm (though possibly in different buildings) and Satan & Asmo are sharing a place in the city (probably in one side of a duplex because I think an apartment would be too small for them lol), I've decided the three older brothers live together, too.

BUT. Levi is a marine biologist. He has his own boat for research purposes (his research is likely also funded by the university where Satan teaches) and sometimes he goes out on his boat for weeks at a time. His main focus for his research is whales or maybe manatees or something, but everybody knows he's secretly trying to find evidence of sea serpents.

Still completely obsessed with anime & manga, I don't think you could ever take the otaku out of Levi lol. So when he goes out on his boat, he brings piles of manga and anime to catch up on while he's out there.

He has a lot of high tech equipment on his boat that he's especially good at maintaining. Other researchers often ask him for help with this.

When he's home, he spends his time holed up in his room playing video games, occasionally emerging for food and what have you. He also spends a decent amount of time working through what he learned on his expeditions and writing research papers good enough to continue getting grants. Satan helps with those, taking Levi's data and making it sound good. Sometimes Belphie helps out too.

All the other brothers seek out Levi when they need help with tech and sometimes he takes them out on his boat for rides or even if they just wanna get away for a couple days. Belphie especially likes to do this because you get some amazing views of the stars out on the ocean.

Lucifer owns a vineyard. It's not far from Beel's farm, but unlike Beel Lucifer doesn't live there. His house is in the city proper and as mentioned, he shares it with Levi and Mammon.

Lucifer spends a lot of time at the vineyard, though, perfecting the various methods of wine production to create a superior product. He's the real money maker of this family. While everybody else makes money from their various jobs, Lucifer's personal wine label makes the most. We all know that Lucifer would take care of all of his brothers if any of them needed anything. He gives them money regularly and doesn't ask for it back.

Human!Lucifer is much softer than demon!Lucifer in general. There is some angsty family history that I will write about in a different post, but basically he's been through a lot. Basically raised all his brothers himself and they mean everything to him. He isn't about to let them stumble through life because they didn't have enough money. Especially not if he has it to give them.

He's more indulgent, probably middle aged, tired. He was perhaps more intense when he was younger, but he's mellowed out at this point.

He and Mammon are both very business minded, so together they kinda keep everybody else on track. They help with the business side of Beel's farm, allowing Beel to focus on things like crop quality. And if for some reason Levi or Belphie don't get the funds they need from the university, Lucifer and Mammon come up with ways to supplement their income. Satan does all right as a professor and Asmo is a successful therapist, so they don't need as much help. But they will come to their older brothers for advice. Together, Lucifer and Mammon are especially good at helping their brothers plan for retirement lol. They're like, listen we know you're young and don't care, but you gotta start saving with that 401k!!

Lucifer thinks Mammon is a little too wild with his fancy cars, but he also admits that Mammon is good at what he does. Levi worries Lucifer when he's locked up in his room for too long or when he's gone on his boat for too long without checking in.

Lucifer is proud of Satan and Asmo, how they're doing well on their own together, how successful and well balanced they both turned out. He worries a little bit about Belphie, spending a lot of time alone staring at the stars, but he's also aware that Belphie is doing what he loves. Lucifer is also proud of Beel for pursuing something as difficult as farming.

I still like the idea of MC being the only non human in this scenario lol. The one pink sheep on Beel's farm. But of course there could be a situation in which they all meet an MC character...

Buuuut I also think I'm getting ahead of myself. We still got the tragic family backstory and the side characters to consider.

Anyway, this is just me rambling about my thoughts. More likely to come 'cause I can't stop thinking about them.

[sassenach082]

i'm curious: since mav is bradley's legal guardian (permanent, I assume) does that mean he's probably on shore assignments (or top gun, i guess) for the majority of his naval career instead of what he does in the original canon (quits top gun, never goes back to teach after that first time, presumably is on deployment a lot before he gets in trouble for something and gets put in the test pilot program?) that's an interesting prospect to me since it seems similar to a lot of pre-tgm fic, where mav just... like, stayed at top gun after '86, and never left, but obvi in most of that, he didn't have a kid to take care of. i mean, things probably change a lot after bradley... maybe cuts ties in the 00s?? if the pulling papers things still happens, but with all the family support and no mention of carole ever explicitly telling mav in the beginning about not letting bradley fly, i'm also curious how that plays out too since it's also probably v canon-divergent. and also — how do u think ice's career trajectory goes? ive seen many takes on how he got to compacflt lol

Hey nonnie! Whew, buckle up, I have a lot of thoughts.

They're going to be at Top Gun for a while, but they won't be staying there. Ice will come back later on, but Mav will be doing other things. This is going to be long and rambly so if you want to read (and aren't bothered by vague spoilers) more under the cut!

With wars coming up they're going to be shifted around back to active duty flying, particularly in Desert Storm. Mav figures out a way to make it work but he refuses to let Ice go without him, and Bradley gets it because he's a military kid. They also aren't going to always be together; actually, they spend quite a few years apart, which is going to hurt my heart to write.

They try to stick to the West Coast. I don't know how much you know about the Navy, but the two main hubs are San Diego and Norfolk, Virginia. In real life they shifted Top Gun out to Fallon, Nevada, but since in the canon of the movie it's still in Fightertown it will be staying there. Most Naval Aviators on the west coast are actually stationed at Lemoore, a base in the middle of California which is a bit of a shithole if my cousin Jay is to be believed, lol, while the east coast aviator hub is Oceania, Virginia. Aviators go through cycles of on a ship, leaving a ship, and then into fleet replacement training to go back on a ship. As soon as my cousin the aviator gets a good night sleep I'm going to pick his brain more about it. If anyone reading this is an aviator or knows one hit me up! I adore my cousin but talking is not his superpower. I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Anyway to answer your question it's going to be a bit roundabout. IRL you have to have a plan for your dependents in case of deployment and Mav gets it figured out with Ice's help as for who will watch Bradley which will be a whole other can of worms but I don't think Mav or Ice are the type to watch their friends go off to war without them. I haven't fleshed it all the way out but Mav is going to CHOOSE the test pilot path, mostly because it keeps him close to Bradley, and he's going to be doing some special ops shit because in my brain that's literally the only reason the kids in the movie have no fucking clue who he is even though they've all been to Top Gun and walked past his picture EVERY DAY in the atrium, haha.

He's still Mav so yes he will still be pissing off Admirals.

As for Ice, I haven't figured out exactly how I want to get him there I'm still doing research. I do know that they have to command ships so at some point he'll get a carrier most likely because he's Ice and who the hell better to hand a carrier to, in my opinion. He leaves the sky fairly early in his career if you look at the whole span of it, partly because flying is something he loves but doesn't define him like it does for Mav, and this way he can keep Mav up there doing what he loves while he also gets to climb the ladder. It's a lot of politics which I hate so I'll be grumpy about having to research all that shit but I mean COME ON, it's Ice. Of course he gets a fucking Fleet. I also headcanon that the Joint Chiefs are beating his door down and he's just like that Obama eye meme saying THEN PERISH because he likes being able to go to the ocean to escape them.

Anyway back to the Navy, not sure if you or anyone who is into Top Gun knows this, but Ice is quite literally AS HIGH as you can go in the Navy. There hasn't been a Fleet Admiral (with the five stars) since Nimitz died in '66 and has only ever been held by four dudes: William Leahy, Ernest King, Chester Nimitz, and William Halsey Jr. (names you may recognize if you know your WWII Naval history but I digress). So basically four-star Admiral is IT, like that is the top of the ladder, unless you get asked to join the Joint Chiefs of Staff and work directly with the president. Tom likes to be in charge of things so I think the Joint Chiefs would be hard for him - they have no direct control over the Navy at all and it's a desk job in Washington D.C.

Maybe one day he could become the Secretary of the Navy, but I don't know if I can see Tom doing that, tbh. They have to be 5 years removed from military service at minimum. So I dunno. Still up in the air as far as Tom! Right at this moment he's being an asshole on an aircraft carrier in 1987, so there's that.

[theladyofbloodshed]

I need y'all to understand I started reading acotar cause I'd seen something about Rhys and I wanted to read about him. I started already being a fan of his character and the Hades/Persephone dynamics I thought they'd bring to the table, I knew Tamlin wouldn't stay the main guy and vaguely knew he would become a villain everyone hated AND YET.

And yet, I couldn't find anything wrong with his character or their love story, and yet they were the sweetest couple who were trying to connect and heal each other. They were genuinely good together, had sweet fluffy moments as well as emotionally charged ones. The trio were everything, how they began by distrusting each other and then formed sort of a found family.

I still cheered when Rhysand showed up, I was still rooting for that other ship to sail but I just couldn't deny how sweet Feyre and Tamlin were together. And then UtM happened with Rhys drugging Feyre but that's another story.

The point is, as someone who started reading for Feyrhys, Feylin completely stole my heart and whoever talks shit about their relationship in acotar at is originally was is a lying bitch bye

Yeah, I am similar to you, anon. I'd stopped reading anything when I was at uni because I had so many research papers to read weekly, I was burnt out from it. I knew Feyre was with Rhys so when I started ACOTAR (which I got in a reddit book exchange and had sat on my shelf for ages) I was like huh??? why's this guy blonde? who is this guy?

I'm never a huge fan of love stories where they have to fall in love to break the curse because I feel like you're not really in love?? It's not a natural love story. I also found Feyre so annoying and, at times, stupid. What actually kept me reading was the initial world building, Lucien, and Rhys tripping at the end. I didn't really click that it was the mating bond and I was like ooo Feyre's going to be some weird mutant faerie now.

Feylin had actually love story moments for me like him writing poetry to teach her new words, taking her to the starlight pool etc I preferred them, but I don't actually think Feyre should be with either of those two lmao

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Chuisle Mo Chroi (Pulse of My Heart) | Ralvez

A Chuisle Mo Chroi (pronounced Mu Kooish-La Mu Kree) Irish term for Pulse of my Heart.

Summary - Spencer chronicles his unrequited love for his best friend in the form of letters to his mom. But when she meets the person Spencer has detailed to her, what happens when she inadvertently confesses her son's feelings for him?

A/N - Yes I mixed up the timeline. Just pretend the episode “300” happened after the episode “Luke”. Prison arc didn’t happen but Spencer’s mom was still moved to DC and Spencer still starts teaching. Also I don’t speak Irish. I googled terms of endearment from around the world and enjoyed this one the most. Thank you my darling @sassymoon for being my beta!

Anon request - Hi! Since you opened your requests I wanted to ask if you could write a sweet fluff fic/blurb for Spencer x Luke with them confessing their feelings and maybe having their first kiss? ❤️

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Category - fluff

CW - unrequited love, pinning Spencer, references to 1406 “Luke” and 1401 “300”, a single F-bomb, case related stuff, bisexual Spencer, first kiss.

WC - 5.4K

Spencer Reid loathed the term momma’s boy. Sure, he was close to his mom, when you grew up without a dad you clung to what you had left. Even if his mom didn’t recognise him half of the time, she was the only person in the whole world who understood him. When she was lucid at least.

Throughout high school all the much older kids had always referred to him as such due to the fact he spent so much time at home. What they didn’t know was that he spent all that time at home because he was looking after his mother. But he never told them as much, he’d rather them call him that than admit the truth to them. 

When he moved to Virginia to join the BAU he wrote her a letter every single day. He told her everything, all the ins and out of the team, vague case details without getting graphic. He documented his meals, what books he’d read and everything else he could jam onto the page. 

Over time life got in the way. His letters started becoming weekly, then monthly until the point when he’d forget the last time he’d put pen to paper and sent his mother one of the letters she loved so much. 

He had to make more of an effort. She adored his letters, it allowed her to feel like she was there with him, embarking on his adventures alongside him. Spencer often thought they might be her last tangible grip on reality. So regardless of how tired he was, how busy he was, he ensured he would try to sit down at least once a week and write his mother a letter. 

As of late his letters had revolved mostly around one topic, giving Spencer the opportunity to get his feelings out on paper so as to never have to admit them out loud. He was sure he’d written research papers shorter than the letters he was penning these days, and he was sure given his moms declining mental state she wasn’t reading them and if she was, she would surely not remember anything he had to say in those pages. 

It was cathartic, almost like keeping a journal. He found the words flowed so easily when he had that particular subject matter on his mind. 

We were on a case in New York this week, as usual I won’t go into detail. We caught the guy though, you’ll be pleased to know. 

On the second day we were in the police precinct in Central Park and we both went to reach for a case file at the same time. Their hand brushed against mine and I swear I heard fireworks going off somewhere. Which is absurd because it was the middle of the day and of course there weren’t fireworks going off. But it happens a lot. 

When they look at me I’m sure I can feel my IQ level drop in half. When they smile at me it’s like the whole world lights up. And those accidental touches make my heart race and make me feel giddy. 

I know I’ve spent a lot of time in these letters talking about them recently and I’m sorry if it’s boring you. But I think I’m falling in love, mom, and I don’t know who else to talk to about it. Scratch that, I am in love and that terrifies me because they don’t look at me that way. 

They’re one of my best friends, my teammate. I don’t even know if they like…it doesn’t matter. I just know I should not be feeling this way about them and I have to get these thoughts out of my head. I’m sure you’re not even reading these so you’ll never know anyway, but I feel lighter for having written it down. But just in case you do read these, I’m too scared to say their name. 

Most letters read in the same vein. Spencer’s unrequited love was clouding his brain, causing him to be slower at making deductions and he feared it would hinder his work. Writing down his inane thoughts helped. Even if no one was reading them. 

***

Hey mom, 

Me again. We got back from a case in Ohio yesterday and Rossi invited us all over his place. 

You know me, I’m not a big drinker, I had two glasses of wine but that was enough for me. Also I don’t trust myself around them when alcohol is involved, inebriation would loosen my tongue and I’m worried about what I might say. Those kinds of confessions are only for my letters. 

They had quite a bit to drink though, I was watching them. I’m always watching them, it’s like I can’t stop myself. But I swear every time I looked up at them, they were looking right back at me smiling. 

They even found me on the back patio while I was getting some air. 

“Hey Spence, what are you doing out here?” 

That’s what they said. There’s something about people calling me by nicknames that makes my heart soar. There’s no scientific data to back that up, love is all in the brain not the heart. It’s simply my brain releasing oxytocin and vasopressin, giving me a surge of positive emotions every time I see them. 

Or hear them call me Spence. 

“Just getting some air.” I told them, trying to ignore the way they were looking at me.

I don’t know how to describe it, it was like they were seeing me for the first time, really seeing me. It was as though the alcohol actually helped them see clearer, the way they looked at me, I just can’t describe it. But for a split second, I actually believed they might feel the same about me. Of course that was completely foolish of me to think but just for a moment I allowed myself to succumb to the fantasy. 

“I uh…I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

When they said that and stepped closer to me, I’m sure I saw a hint of nerves in their eyes and my breath caught in my throat. But then it got even stranger. 

“Oh, you’ve got something…let me.” 

Then they reached forward and brushed something off of my cheek. We’ve touched accidentally before but I think that might be the first time they’ve done it deliberately. I wish I could accurately describe to you the way their fingertips felt as they brushed against my skin but I’m not sure there are enough words in the English language. Or in any of the other languages I can speak. 

There is a saying I recently learnt which comes close. It’s an Irish term “a chuisle mo chroi” which essentially translates to “pulse of my heart.” That’s what they feel like. They are a part of what keeps me alive. It’s the only thing I know how to say in Irish, but it seemed fitting. 

Anyway, they never did get to tell me what it was they wanted to say because someone else joined us on the patio and soon we all called it a night. 

I’ll never forget the look in their eyes though. 

All my love,

Spencer

***

Hey mom,

Another letter for you. I realised recently I’ve spent so much time talking to you about a certain person and I don’t remember the last time I asked you how you were doing. I’m sorry for that. How are you? How is Bennington? I hope to get time to visit you soon. 

We had a pretty rough case recently, one that affected someone on the team personally. I won’t give you a prize for guessing who. 

I’ve never seen them like this before, I was genuinely scared they would do something to jeopardise their place on the team. They lost an old friend in the process and I’m scared it might tip them over the edge, that there may be no coming back from this for them. 

It’s not my job to comfort them though, as much as I wish it was. I’m sitting here at my desk after everyone else has left for the night writing this letter so I don’t go after them. Because they already have a person to be their shoulder to cry on, and it isn’t me. 

I think I’ve failed to tell you that before and maybe I just didn’t think it was necessary or maybe it was a deliberate choice, I’m not sure. They already have their own a chuisle mo chroi which makes my feelings even more redundant. 

Thus far I’ve done a really good job at not allowing myself to dwell on these feelings except for when I write you these letters. But lately they’ve started to consume me and I don’t know how to make it stop.

They are all I think about. When I’m at home alone, I imagine what they are doing and it makes me sad. They’re probably cooking dinner for their partner, maybe cuddled up on the couch watching a movie or maybe even in bed…I won’t finish that trail of thought. 

It hurts me to see them everyday and know they will never be mine. I value our friendship too much to risk losing it all over these feelings I have for them but I worry those feelings are slowly destroying my soul. They’re right there, right in front of me and I can’t have them. I never will. They will never be mine. 

I’m sorry about this. If you’re reading these I hope my words don’t make you worry. I’m fine, really, I’m just having a hard time right now. But I’ll be ok, I always bounce back don’t I? 

I love you mom, speak soon. 

Spencer 

***

Hey mom,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, things got really crazy. I won’t go into detail because I don’t want you to worry about me but…

…you aren’t reading these letters, I know you’re not. So I suppose it doesn’t really matter if I go into detail. 

I was abducted. Kidnapped. We arrested a cult leader and failed to see that one of his disciples worked for the FBI. She took Garcia, and I tried to save her, because you taught me to be the kind of man that does that. But it resulted in her taking me too.

If you are, on the off chance, reading these, I need you to know I’m ok. I’ve got some bruises but I’m mostly ok. If it wasn’t for the team I might not have been, the cult wanted to make me their three hundredth victim. 

For as long as I live, I will never forget the way they looked at me after I was unstrapped and helped down the steps. They ran to me, panic written all over their face and if I didn’t know any better I might actually think they had tears in their eyes. 

“Oh my god, you’re ok.” 

They sounded as worried as they looked and then their hand was on the side of my face, gently stroking my bruised cheek. 

“I thought…I didn’t think…” 

It was as though they physically couldn’t get the words out. I was so hyped on the adrenaline of coming close to death that I didn’t realise it until later. 

“I’m ok. I’m ok.” I assured them although I’m not sure why I was doing the assuring. 

And then they flung their arms around my neck and pulled me so close, held me so tightly for a moment I couldn’t breathe. I was so close I could feel their erratic heartbeat and they buried their face into my neck and panted against my skin. 

For a second I was dumbfounded. I just stood there frozen. But eventually I wrapped my arms around their waist relished in the moment because I knew it wouldn’t last. And as expected, a few seconds later we were torn apart by someone calling our names. 

Is it wrong that I’d go through that whole ordeal again just to get them to hold me like that one more time? Is it so utterly absurd to say that almost dying was worth it because having them embrace me like that erased all of the fear?

I felt safe, mom. In their arms I felt safer than I’ve ever felt before. But it only hurt worse when they let go and pretended nothing had happened, following the rest of the team away. 

Unrequited love is the worst feeling in the whole world. You’d think I could handle it given everything I’ve been through. But honestly, I think it’s worse than anything any unsub has ever done to me. I really don’t know how more I can take, mom. 

I don’t know if I can keep working with them and being in love with them. 

Love always,

Spencer 

***

Hey mom, 

You’ll be pleased to know I’m feeling a little better since my last letter. It’s been a few months I know, and I know I promised I’d write every week and I’m sorry. 

I thought my writing down my feelings was helping but it started having the opposite effect. I decided to take a little time away from the BAU after everything that happened with the cult. I came to an agreement with the bureau to split my time between case hours and teaching classes at the university. I’m doing much better, my head is clearer and I’m not pining quite as much as I was the last time I wrote to you. 

It’s still hard sometimes but I’ve learnt to live with the fact the object of my desire will never love me back. We remain friends, best friends, but that’s all it will ever be. And I’m ok with that. It’s just how it was meant to be. 

I’ll come and visit you soon, I have more free time when I’m teaching. I’ll be sure to bring you some books and there’s a great little cafe I’ve discovered near the university that sells the best…

“Hey man, what are you doing?” 

A voice snapped Spencer away from his trail of thought and he lifted the pen from the paper and looked up to see Luke Alvez standing over his desk. 

“Oh, just writing to my mom.” He quickly scrambled to hide the letter from prying eyes even though most people struggled to read his chicken scratch, as Garcia dubbed it. 

“Isn’t she living in DC now? I thought you said-“

“Yeah she is.” Spencer cut him off, stuffing the paper in his satchel. “But I uh…I forget all the things I want to say to her when I visit so I like to write it down.” 

Luke was smiling at him, the kind of smile that Spencer often found himself lost in. The kind of smile he’d spent hours writing about in great detail to his mom. 

“I’d like to meet her.” He leant against Spencer’s desk, seemingly not in a hurry to go anywhere. 

“You would? Why?” Spencer frowned which made Luke chuckle. 

“You talk about her so much I already feel like I know her. It would be nice to meet the woman behind the genius.” 

Spencer didn’t think having his mom meet Luke was a good idea. Although even if she read his letters and remembered them, he’d never specified who he was talking about. But his mom knew him so well, surely if she saw the two of them together she’d be able to tell exactly how Spencer felt about Luke. Spencer wasn’t known for his subtlety. And even in her less lucid moments, Diana Reid was extremely astute. 

But nonetheless Spencer found himself nodding. 

“Uh…ok. Sure. I guess that wouldn’t be a problem.” He frowned a little. “I’m going to see her this weekend if we don’t get pulled away somewhere.” 

“I’m in.” Luke beamed brighter than Spencer had ever seen. 

“You uh…you don’t have plans with Lisa?” 

Luke chuckled, leaning forward and patting Spencer’s shoulder. 

“I know you’re not here all the time, Doc, but have you been living under a rock? Lisa and I split up months ago.” 

Spencer hated the way his heart seemed to do somersaults in his chest at this. How had he missed that? Had he been so consumed in the overwhelming unrequited love he was feeling that he’d completely missed what was going on around him? 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Spencer hoped his voice didn’t give away how unsorry he was. 

“It’s ok, these things happen. She wasn’t a, uh, good fit for me.” His eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke but Spencer didn’t know why. He chose to ignore it. “You heading out?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Spencer nodded, grabbing up his things and shutting off his computer before following Luke over to the elevators. 

And he only had a handful of heart palpitations in the process.

***

The weekend rolled around without a case and as promised, Luke accompanied Spencer to visit his mom. 

Spencer made a point of not hanging out with Luke outside of work, not unless the rest of the team were involved anyway. Over the years Luke had asked Spencer to grab a beer with him on multiple occasions but Spencer always made up an excuse as to why he couldn’t go. 

He knew it was only due to the fact that he was the only other guy on the team around the same age as Luke. Although that did offer up some confusion as to why he still asked even after Simmons joined the team. Maybe because Matt was married with kids, Spencer didn’t have anyone to go home to, much like Luke, until he’d met Lisa anyway. And once he met her, the invitations stopped coming. 

Luke picked Spencer up at ten am on the dot, just like they’d planned, he even brought Spencer coffee from his favourite coffee shop down the street with the perfect amount of sugar. If he wasn’t already smitten with this man, he would have been now. 

Luke drove and they listened to the radio as they travelled to Diana’s facility, giving Spencer something to focus on that wasn’t the close proximity to Luke he found himself in. They made idle chit chat, it wasn’t lost on Luke how Spencer wouldn’t look at him. 

When they pulled up in the parking lot of Diana’s facility, Luke cut the engine and turned to face the younger man. 

“Does this make you uncomfortable? If you don’t want me to meet her I can just wait in the car.” Luke questioned him. 

“No, no I can’t ask you to do that after you’ve driven me out here.” Spencer shook his head.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to actually spend some time with you outside of work.” Luke felt his cheeks burning as he spoke. 

Spencer frowned, noticing the way Luke reddened although he wasn’t sure why. 

“I’m just worried what state she might be in. I don’t want you to meet her if she’s erratic. And as of late she’s been like that quite a lot. She barely even knows who I am half of the time.” Spencer changed the subject. 

“How about I come in with you and I’ll hang back while you see how she is. If she’s not in a good state I’ll wait in the car.” Luke’s blush faded and he smiled at Spencer. 

“Yeah, I guess that works.” He nodded, quickly getting out of his seatbelt and exiting the car. 

Luke followed him across the parking lot and up the front steps of the building. He noticed the way Spencer clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides as he walked and it only then occurred to him what this must be like for him. It must take its toll, never knowing what state he would find his mother in, never knowing if his own mom would recognise him until it was too late. 

Luke prayed in his head that today his mother would know who he was. He didn’t want Spencer to suffer that embarrassment with him here to witness it. 

Spencer went on ahead into the day room while Luke hung back. He’d never been overly religious, not the way his parents were anyway, but what took place next might just make a believer out of him after all. 

He watched Spencer tentatively approach the woman Luke recognised from the photograph on his desk. She was in an armchair in the window, her head in a book so much like her son. She looked up when she heard movement, looking up at the man standing before her. A few seconds passed before she suddenly leapt to her feet, throwing her arms around Spencer.

“Spencer!” Luke heard her call. “Oh how I’ve missed you.” 

The size of the smile that broke out in Luke’s face could only be beaten by Spencer’s own. Spencer hugged his mother back while Luke watched, his heart feeling like it was floating out of his body. When the hug ended, Spencer turned to Luke with a smile and motioned him over. 

“Mom, this is my friend Luke. Luke Alvez. We work together at the BAU.” Spencer tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he introduced Luke. 

“It’s so nice to meet you Mrs Reid, I’ve heard so many things about you.” Luke held out his hand which Diana shook. 

“Luke…” she mused as the three of them took a seat. “I’m sure Spencer has told me about you but the name doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“Sure it does mom, I’ve told you about the whole team.” Spencer hated using his mothers memory loss to his advantage because she was right, he’d never mentioned Luke, not by name anyway. 

“Well if you say you have, you must have.” She gave Spencer a look that told him she didn’t believe him. 

“How are you finding it here in DC?” Luke spoke, sensing a strange tension between mother and son and trying to ease it. 

“Oh you know, dear, a nuthouse is a nuthouse, no matter the city.”

“They prefer the term psychiatric facility, mom.” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

A nurse came over and offered them drinks. Diana opted for chamomile tea, they didn’t encourage coffee drinking for the residents, while Spencer and Luke both took the caffeine route. Once the three of them were alone, Spencer spoke again. 

“This is the best I’ve seen you in a long time. You seem…clear.” He said for lack of a better word.

“I feel clear.” Diana nodded with a soft smile that Luke thought was the spitting image of her sons. “The doctors say it won’t last but it’s a nice reprieve.” 

“I can only imagine.” Spencer sniffed a little and Luke couldn’t help but reach out and place his hand on his arm. 

Spencer turned to look at him, unshed tears behind his eyes. Diana looked between them, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she watched the way her son and Luke looked at each other. 

“Friends you say?” Diana spoke up, causing Luke to quickly pull his hand away. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded, swallowing thickly. Really good friends.”

“Some might even say best friends.” Diana shook her head in amusement. “Sorry my memory is not what it used to be. So you met at work?”

“Yeah, I’ve been at the BAU for almost three years now.” Luke answered. 

“What did you do before?” 

“Mom, it’s not the Spanish Inquisition.” Spencer scolded her. 

“It’s ok.” Luke laughed with a shake of his head. “Before the BAU I worked for the Fugitive Task Force, man hunting I suppose. And before that I was in the military, the 75th Rangers.”

“You served overseas?” 

“Yeah, I did a tour in Iraq and a couple in Afghanistan.” 

“Your father was a soldier.” Diana didn’t ask, she stated. She always had been good at reading people. 

“He was, yes.” Luke smiled, so many things about Spencer making so much sense now he’d met his mother. 

“Ok, can we stop grilling my friend now?” Spencer interjected. 

“It’s not grilling, Crash, it’s getting to know him. He’s clearly important to you.” Diana spoke like she was speaking to a small child. 

Spencer couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks and he tried to hide it from Luke and looked down at his lap. 

“Yeah he’s important to me, he’s my friend.” He emphasised the last word. 

“Do you know you’re the first “friend” Spencer has ever brought to meet me?” She used air quotes around the word friend and Spencer wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Mom!” He cried in exasperation. 

“What? It’s true.” She shrugged, not perturbed by Spencer’s tone. 

Thankfully their drinks were brought over and Spencer managed to direct the conversation onto literature and what she’d been reading lately. 

Luke took a backseat just content to listen. Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with him anymore and Luke didn’t know why. He thought he was missing something but he just couldn’t pinpoint what. 

**

After a few hours of conversation with Diana she started to get tired and the boys decided to let her rest. Spencer excused himself to use the bathroom before the drive back into the city. 

Once they were alone together, Diana’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Luke. 

“So you must be the one.” She clapped her hands together in excitement. 

“The one?” Luke’s brows knitted together. 

“The one in Spencer’s letters!” She looked so pleased, not deterred by Luke’s obvious confusion. “Oh I must have hundreds of them detailing this mystery person. But it has to be you. You’re the best friend my son is in love with.” 

Luke felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at the older woman in shock. The combination of the schizophrenia and altzeimers often made her confused, that’s all this was. Luke just had to be delicate in how he approached this, not wanting to call her crazy to her face. 

“Uh…I don’t think so.” He tried to laugh it off. “Maybe you’re mistaken?”

“Oh no, Spencer is very clear in his letters about being in love with his best friend. A member of the team.” She leant forward, her elbows on her knees. 

“Uh…he might be talking about JJ. Definitely not me.” Luke shook his head. 

“My son is incredibly smart.”

“He is.” Luke agreed. 

“If he were talking about a woman he would have said she. But in every single letter he used gender neutral pronouns. He wouldn’t do that unless…” she trailed off, eyes sparkling at Luke. 

“Spencer isn’t…I uh, I don’t think that he’s…” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Don’t worry, dear. He never came out to me either. But a mother always knows.” She tapped the side of her nose. 

Before Luke could reply, not that he knew how to reply, Spencer returned, offering Luke a smile. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Luke nodded, pushing himself to his feet. “It was nice to meet you Mrs Reid.” 

“Oh please,” she smirked, standing and pulling Luke into a tight embrace. “Call me Diana.” 

Spencer hugged his mom goodbye and soon the two were leaving again. They made it out to the front of the building and as Spencer was heading towards the parking lot, Luke’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Your mom told me about your letters.” 

Spencer’s back straightened and he took a breath before he slowly turned back to face Luke. 

“Letters?” He tried to buy himself some time. 

“Yeah.” Luke took a few steps closer to him. “The ones where you told her about your best friend who you're in love with.” 

“Ah.” Spencer sighed. “Those letters.” 

“I tried to tell her it was probably just JJ.” Luke looked suddenly serious, his jaw set. 

“Uh yeah.” Spencer nodded. “You got me. I’m in love with JJ. Really awkward, please don’t tell anyone.” 

Spencer turned to leave again but then Luke’s hand was circling his wrist, keeping him in place. 

“You didn’t use gender specific pronouns.” 

“So?” 

“So why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Spencer shook his head. It was no wonder Luke was so good at getting criminals to confess to their crimes because he was making Spencer want to confess too. 

“Yeah, you do.” Luke shrugged. “You never told me you were gay.” 

“I…I’m…not?” Spencer sighed, scrunching his nose. “Bisexual maybe? I don’t really know what I’d call it, which I guess is why I’ve never told anyone.” 

“So you’re in love with a guy, who is your best friend and that you work with?” Luke clarified. 

“It would seem so.” Spencer felt his heart start to race. “And I inadvertently outed myself to my mother and then to you. So it’s a good day to be me.” 

“I mean that only leaves three people.” Luke’s brow furrowed. “You’re not that close to Matt, and I would think Rossi was too old for you.” 

“Would you believe me at all if I said it was Anderson?” 

“Your mom didn’t know my name.” Luke seemed to ignore him, stepping even closer to him. “Your mom didn’t know my name because you never mentioned it did you? You spoke about me but never said my name.” 

“Fuck,” Spencer hung his head. “Fine, the secrets out, ok? God I didn’t even think she was reading those letters!”

Luke swallowed and raised his hand to cup Spencer’s jaw, lifting his face so he would look at him. 

“What are you trying to say, Spence?” 

Spencer tried to ignore the way his heart did a cartwheel at the way Luke was touching him and the use of his nickname. 

“Please just keep in mind that I don’t want to lose you ok? You’re one of my best friends and I don’t want things to be weird between us.” Tears swam in his eyes. 

“Just say it.” Luke croaked. 

“I…goddamnit,” his first tear fell. “I’m in love with you, Luke. I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” Luke kept his hand on Spencer’s face. 

“Because I just ruined our friendship, right?” 

Luke surprised him when he laughed, moving even closer still to him. 

“You know you aren’t the only one who talks to their mom about their secret crush?” Luke chuckled with a shake of his head. “Only I’m not shy in mentioning his name.” 

“You…I…I don’t understand.” Spencer mumbled. 

“Yes you do.” Luke laughed again. “You’re a genius right?” 

“Quantifiably.” 

“Well then, what are the facts telling you, Spence? All those times I asked you out for drinks, the way I can’t keep my eyes off of you when you’re in a room. The way I can’t stop looking at your lips right now…” Luke inhaled sharply. “What do those things tell you?” 

“I…I have a theory.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Hmm.” Spencer nodded. 

“Wanna test it out?” 

“Most definitely.” 

Luke chuckled again before closing the small space between them, and still keeping his hand cupped around Spencer’s jaw, he kissed him. 

Spencer whimpered against Luke’s lips, his knees buckling beneath him. The kiss was gentle but filled with so much longing it almost took Spencer’s breath away. 

It was only brief and when Luke pulled away he was smiling at Spencer from ear to ear. 

“I love you too, by the way.” He shrugged. 

Spencer made another whimpering sound and couldn’t help himself but lean in and kiss Luke again, slightly deeper this time. Luke wrapped him in his arms and held him close. 

“A chuisle mo chroi.” Spencer mumbled against his lips. 

“What is that?” Luke replied. 

“It’s Irish. Don’t worry about it.” 

Luke chuckled, kissing him again before leaning his forehead against Spencer’s. 

“Mi vida.” Luke whispered, stroking back Spencer’s messy hair. 

“I speak Spanish, you know? Mi vida means my life, romantically speaking.” 

“Of course you do.” Luke’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

Spencer let out a small sigh, running his fingers up Luke’s strong bicep, over his shoulder blade and over the base of his neck. 

“A chuisle mo chroi. The pulse of my heart.” He confessed, causing Luke to kiss him once more, so passionately Spencer felt as though he was floating. 

From the window, Diana smiled to herself as she watched the two men on the sidewalk, her heart soaring for her son. She continued to watch for a moment or two, a warm, fuzzy feeling enveloping her as she leant against the window frame and whispered to herself, “A mother always knows.” 

[hillnerd]

Waking Up - Ch 13

AO3   FFN      Beginning of story | Previous Chapter

chapter word count 16014

Chapter warnings at end of chapter

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Much thanks to my amazing and lovely beta reader @abradystrix for helping with this chapter!  Sorry for the delay- my dudes my life has been absolutely bonkers- hurt back, lead in the house, have to clean said lead (massive undertaking of many months!), got ill, developed persistent bronchitis, all the meds I was on gave me kidney stones... and I was still fulltime teaching :0 i am le tired.

Hope you like this new chapter!

PREVIOUSLY IN ‘WAKING UP’: Ron finished his second C.R.E. (combat readiness exam)- 'Resilience and Flying Assessment'- He was thoroughly tested with dangerous Bots casting spells, and having to split up from Harry. He ended up leading a team with Neville, Ramona and Kevin- they nearly got blown to bits, hit aging mist that made him grow a beard (Thanks to neville's plant know-how they were able to de-age), and then at the end Ron positioned himself as a distraction to the bots so the other members could have a shot at the capture the flag win. They won the flag and he passed his test. Percy was waiting for him outside the Auror office- he has news- and gives the paper for Ron to silently read to himself: 'Doctors Hugo and Jean Granger- FOUND.' Even further back, Hermione went to her parents’ house. Fleur met her and did some booby trap spells before disarming them. Fleur gave her a brown paper package, and it was revealed that Ron had been tortured by Snatchers- the back of his clothes tattered and stained.The next day she helped Ron study- this chapter takes place before Ron's C.R.E. and is the same scene we saw in chapter 11, just from Hermione's POV.

Chapter 13- THE SNATCHER BOOK

A sense of normalcy had come to Hermione as she helped Ron and Harry with their studies. Suddenly her faculties were sharp, her body felt light, and she knew, without a doubt, she was of use.

Being of use was a tether in the storm she felt each day. The compunction to lay in bed and not face the inevitable slew of people she’d have to make niceties to was something so foreign it would have frightened her if she wasn’t so tired. How was it that no amount of sleep lifted the drained sensation? How was it that little made her smile or think or eat or comb her hair, but the knowledge that people would see her? Anymore, even that wasn’t stopping her. Yesterday she’d been a mess in pyjamas well into the afternoon…

But today was a new day! She’d been her old self. She was imaginative in her use of spells, fleet in her research, and had Ron saying how smart she was… It wasn’t as if he hadn’t said it to her a hundred thousand times, but recently he’d been pointing to her past when he said it. There was nothing in her present to point to… No, wait there was! She was being useful!

She stopped her woolgathering and went back to the book, feverishly scanning it for another useful spell.

“So the Captionem Deprehensio spell can be used to find a variety of traps and reveal their origins… That could be handy,” said Hermione, writing the spell down into her notes.

Ron leaned towards the book, his warm arm pressing against her side a bit. She felt herself begin to squirm and heat rose in her. He was so close, with his very kissable jaw nearby, and looked so determined as he concentrated on the book in her lap.

She loved to watch him when he was in true study-mode. The intelligent glint in his eye, the focus, the expressive way his hands would move as if his body involuntarily felt the spells before he tried them. He’d always done that, even in first year— lips would purse, as if to keep from sounding out loud, and she’d see his fingers minutely pinch and shift in a miniature prelude to the sure movements he’d do later. Even if he wasn’t accurate, he fully committed to whatever spell he did, waving with a sureness of wand she somewhat envied. There was never a hesitation, just a smooth arc of movement. Hermione was delicate and precise with her movements, but it always felt cramped and rigid, even though she was very accurate.

Ron’s hands twitched as he read, then he fully cast the Captionem Deprehensio spell. There was a pulse of familiar white-blue light that scanned the room, then disappeared. It must have been the same spell Fleur did at Hermione’s house; the spell she did before she’d given Hermione the brown paper package and revealed the torture Ron had experienced.

“Did I do it right?” asked Ron, startling her from her thoughts.

“I guess we can’t know unless there are traps set up,” she said, trying to comport herself. “If it’s the spell I’m thinking of, I believe it should have a sort of web-like pattern that will light up when there are threats. In this case the pattern surveyed the space and shut down before it could detect anything. Colours can stand for different types of traps.”

Ron smiled that open, boyish smile of his. How could he still smile at her like that? So open and careless and loving? He’d been through torture, and losing his brother, and he could just grin this devastatingly charming smile and look at her like she’d hung the moon, when she’d done nothing but make his life worse after he’d been through so much.

“I swear you know about every spell there is!”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

His hand went around her and gave a squeeze, putting endless camaraderie and care into the simplest of gestures.

“Who else would know that about some obscure booby trap spell?” he argued. “The details of what it looked like were not in the book!”

She’d seen the spell, then smelled the blood.

“Fleur and Bill would, as curse breakers.”

The blood had been everywhere. And there were cuts through so many layers of clothes… She felt hot and like the room was going to fall in on her.

“Fine, but I still am dating the most brilliant woman in England,” she vaguely heard him say. He leaned close and kissed her cheek, smiling at her, completely unaware she knew. She knew he’d been tortured. She knew he hadn’t told anyone. Was he ashamed? Was it just too much to speak of? Was he trying to protect them? Was he afraid he’d be dismissed?

She looked over to Harry.

He’d welcomed Ron back to their tent and their lives. He’d defended him as she brought her wrath and mocked him.

The clothes had so much blood on them. She didn't know exactly why. What could cause injuries like that? What exactly had they done? She knew some of it, but needed to pretend she didn’t know any of it. The room felt stifling, her skin almost too tight. She had to escape. Was it early enough to have an excuse to leave?

“We should go to bed. You both have a big day tomorrow,” she said, turning Ron’s wrist to see the time in his watch. Nearly nine was late enough. She had to get out of there before she did something reckless.

“So… Where are we planning on sleeping?” Ginny asked.

Hermione couldn’t be near Ron. She was lucky she’d not had a nightmare near him the night before. She practically felt nightmares closing in now, even as she was awake.

“We should sleep in the places your mother expects so everyone actually sleeps,” Hermione said, fleeing from the bed, but stopping herself. She couldn’t just run off… They’d know something was off with her, and if they asked she wasn’t sure she could keep from spilling the truth. It took every ounce of her self control to still herself.

She let out a deep breath, then looked to Ron.

She could tell he wanted her to stay. Everyone wanted to be paired off as happy couples, but she couldn’t. As usual, she was ruining it for everyone… She had no choice, though. She couldn’t cover up her turmoil from him for long; he knew her too well.

If she couldn’t stay with him, the least she could do was kiss him so he knew she cared. She pulled Ron in for a quick kiss on the lips, before turning for the door.

“Sleep well you two,” she said, before walking from the room as fast as she could. She carefully controlled her pace, knowing one could hear the footfalls from his room fairly easily.

Once in her room, she changed into her pyjamas at a blistering pace and curled into the bed, squeezing her arms around herself and taking deep purposeful breaths.

Her mother had her do this when she was little and wanting to cry. When she was quite young she’d cried at school often: children were cruel and she was rather sensitive to their criticisms and barbs about everything about her, from her looks to her personality. Nothing much changed from when she was five; students were still cruel, only she cried marginally less.

At age six her teacher called home about Hermione pushing someone. She had not pushed him. He’d just somehow fallen after he’d touched her hair and told her it looked like a rat’s nest. No one believed her, of course. She’d burst into tears at school when they said she was a liar. She had never been a liar!

Her Mum came and took her home, a dubious look on her face as Hermione claimed she never touched him, then was in fresh tears again.

“He really just fell over! Why won’t anyone believe me?” Hermione cried. “I hate school!”

“Oh darling, that can’t be true. You love to learn,” her mother hummed as she hugged her.

“Learning’s not the same as school!” Hermione wailed. “Everyone’s so mean and they hate me! They make fun of me all the time, even for answering questions. And we’re supposed to, Mum!”

“Oh I know. You’re very good at answering questions. Don’t stop because of a few little bullies,” she said.

“They made fun of me for crying so much…” Hermione confessed. She’d gotten in the habit of crying in frustration.

“Do you want to cry so much?”

“N-no!” she sniffled.

“Well Hermione, why don’t we try this: if you ever feel upset, hug yourself if Mummy isn’t there to hug you, and breathe a big deep gulp of air, in and out, and think of how much we love you, just the way you are.”

Hermione tried the method, but it didn’t work to comfort her as her parents didn’t love her— they didn’t even know she existed all thanks to her.

The door soon clicked as Ginny entered.

“Hermione? Are you asleep already?”

“No,” she managed.

“I hate that they’re going off to the Aurors without us, and we can’t even watch. It feels like last summer all over again.” Ginny quietly changed clothes in the corner. “I think the boys will do well, though, don’t you?”

“I’m sure they will,” Hermione agreed.

“How did the studying go with Ron?”

“Fine.”

Ginny was quiet for a moment. “He’s been doing too much lately… I think he might need some extra attention right now.”

Hermione gave a hum as Ginny turned out the light.

“I know you heard me say it to Ron earlier,” she continued, “but it will be important that you and Ron don’t fall into old habits of putting Harry first. Ron really does need to concentrate on himself.”

Hermione said nothing.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Sorry, I’m just a bit tired.”

“These Auror trials are no joke. Tonks told me about them back when we were all in Grimmauld Place. And her series of exams were after years of training. I’m sure they’ll do well, but… Hermione?”

“Yes?” she vaguely asked.

“Never mind,” Ginny said quickly. With a rustle of sheets she got into her bed.

Hermione waited a long time until small, even snores told Ginny was asleep.

Hermione crept out of the bed and quietly conjured bluebell flames to see under the bed. She knelt down and opened her beaded bag, seeking out the one object she least wanted to see.

Carefully, she took the brown paper package out and painstakingly unwrapped it piece by piece, making sure not to let it rustle too loudly and wake Ginny.

The smell wafted over her, making her feel sick, but she couldn’t stop staring. The lacerations were each the length of her hand or longer, splitting the fabric in a long even slash. Each blood stain wasn’t particularly bloody, but there were a dozen or so of them. Some of them had more blood than others, looking like they’d been pressed directly into his wound. What had caused these? How did he not have one scar left after?

She stared and stared, not sure why she had to see it, or what she was hoping to learn.

She’d been staring at it for what must have been hours when her head nodded, sleep insistently pulling at her. Too tired to perfectly repack it, she haphazardly folded the paper around the clothes and stuffed it far under her camp-bed.

She quietly did the silencing spell on herself and drifted off to an unpleasant sleep.

Hermione felt her lungs collapsing, as well as everything else. Harry and Ron were following her through her Apparition. Harry’s hand held fast, while Ron’s hand twitched and pulled in hers.

She landed them in the Forest of Dean, autumn leaves all around. Harry was a few feet away, pushing himself from the forest floor, while she and Ron had landed in a tumble, falling in a puddle of something or another— her side felt soaked and warm.

She almost laughed in relief and looked up into Ron’s face expecting to see him smiling at her. His eyes were wide and he let out a gasp.

“Ron?” she asked.

His eyes fluttered as he groaned pain and looked down.

“Her-my—” he breathed out before his words stopped and his head fell back.

She looked down and her own breathing stopped.

They hadn’t landed in anything from the forest; Ron’s side was all blood, drenching them. She gasped. How had —? Oh God, she’d done it to him; she’d splinched him! And the blood was pooling all over them. Ron’s blood.

Her hands shook and she propelled herself to action, moving to cut away his shirt.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Harry, voice shaking as badly as her hands.

“Splinched,” she sharply answered. She’d splinched Ron. She’d hurt him. He was bleeding everywhere. With his shirt ripped open she could see his arm was missing a giant piece, and blood was gushing at an alarming rate. She tried to stop it with cloth, but it bled through in seconds, deep red and warm.

“Harry quickly, in my bag, there’s a bottle labelled ‘Essence of Dittany,’” she said, voice sounding distant to her ears. Harry ran over to her bag as she held the remnants of Ron’s jacket to the wound, but he bled through that too. Ron’s eyes finally rolled back in his head. He was dying in her arms!

“Quickly!” she yelled at Harry.

He brought forth a broken bottle. “Hermione, it’s broken.”

“What? No!” she took the fragments, not caring that they cut her hands. The bit of potion that touched her hissed and turned green, healing her hands. “No no no.”

She tried to get it into Ron’s wound, but there wasn’t enough.

“Harry— Harry we need, we need more cloth!” he didn’t respond. “Harry?”

She turned her head, but no one was there. She had no help. Ron’s breath was stuttering.

She pulled Ron’s ragdoll-limp body to her and realised his clothing was tattered in places she hadn’t inspected. She gently rolled him, revealing his back. It was covered in long wounds that gaped and bled as profusely as his arm. The blood was crawling along the forest floor and Ron’s breathing was becoming more and more shallow.

“You’re not going to die! You’re not!” she yelled, but not one wound would staunch. Everything was crimson, and Ron’s face was taking on a waxy greyish tint.

“Help!” she called out. No one responded. Her legs were warm with blood.

His breaths slowed, and the blood finally stopped pumping across her hands. Vacant blue eyes stared at the sky.

She wailed an anguished sound like a wounded animal, and a door slammed making her startle.

Her eyelids fluttered, realising she was no longer in the forest covered in Ron’s blood. She was in her bed at the Burrow. Ginny had slammed the door closed.

Hermione felt under her pillow until her hand blissfully curled around the cool wood of her wand. Blanket and hair covering most of the signs there was an actual human in the bed, she surreptitiously undid her silencing spell.

“Ginny, that was a bit abrupt,” she scolded, voice hoarse from her silenced screams.

“Oh sorry, I assumed you’d be awake since it’s past ten and it’s the boys’ second exam,” Ginny said in a breezy way, but she had a set to her jaw that made her look very much like her mother before a scolding.

“I… I was tired,” Hermione replied, knowing how ill of an excuse it was. She hadn’t even thought to wake up for them. The day before had been rather pleasurable, in its own way— she loved finally being of use again and seeing the joy and relief on Ron’s face each time he mastered a new spell or impressively hit a target. The moment they stopped studying the momentum came to an abrupt halt and she felt like a duck struck mid flight, plummeting and spiralling into a marsh, waiting for a labrador to drag her body in for supper. She’d thought of no one and nothing, just felt the murky waters rolling over her as sleep took too long to claim her.

Ginny crossed the room to her drawers and began looking through them.

“You’re ‘tired’ a lot,” she said, jerking the top drawer completely out and dumping its contents on her bed. “Have you seen my black sports bra?”

“Erm, no. I haven’t,” Hermione replied, sitting up, a palpable unease settling somewhere in her sternum.

Ginny growled as she began pulling drawers and swiping through their contents.

Hermione was sure her next question would set Ginny erupting like Vesuvius, but her curiosity outweighed any threat of a pyroclastic flow.

“Have I… Done something to offend you?”

“You’ve not done anything, have you?” Ginny snipped, looking about her. “Oh where is that blasted thing? It’s the only one that doesn’t make my shoulders feel like my head will fucking snap off!”

“Ginny,” Hermione insisted, knowing she sounded a bit naggy.

Her dark brown eyes snapped to Hermione’s. “Why weren’t you awake and downstairs to wish them luck?”

“Like I said, I was tired,” she practically squeaked.

“You went to bed at nine,” Ginny noted, obviously not in a mood to take excuses. “I’d understand if we’d each been with the boys, but you insisted we leave them so they’d get rest. Then you slept in like you’re the Queen and did absolutely nothing.”

“Alright, I slept in and I shouldn’t have,” Hermione stated. It took considerable force to keep the sharpness from her voice. “There’s no need to—”

“You should’ve seen his face when he asked about you,” Ginny interrupted, voice quiet but dagger sharp. “He was nervous as hell and wanted you there.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, then?”

“It’s not my job to make you act like you care about my brother!”

A slap would have stunned and baffled Hermione less.

She’d been accused of many things in her life- and annoyingly most of the accusations had a kernel of truth to them.

Being a know-it-all had been the most frequent insult since she first entered nursery school and spelled a students’ name for them, when they didn’t even know the alphabet. She’d been called ugly, and she had to admit she’d never been particularly pretty, what with her dowdy body, overbite and large hair that looked on the verge of devouring Europe. Then there was condescension, being a fussbudget, having no sense of humour, being petty, being prideful… She’d had all of those pushed her way at one point or another…

She’d never been accused of laziness before. She’d never been accused of not caring. She’d most certainly never had someone say she didn’t care for Ron.

The thought was revolting. Ron was the one person she cared most for in all the world. She wasn’t sure when he’d somehow usurped everyone else, but he definitely had. He was the first person she wanted to see the reaction of when something ridiculous happened. He was the first person she wanted to share any news with. He was the first person she wanted safe. A world with no Ron was grey and hopeless.

“Of course I care about Ron!” Hermione finally gasped out.

“Then act like it,” Ginny cooly retorted,

Hermione’s hackles began to rise. “Sleeping in one time doesn’t mean I’m—”

“It’s more than that.”

“How?” she questioned, not caring how sharp or loud her tone was now.

“It’s the way you prioritise everything before him!”

“I don’t do that!” she protested.

“Please,” Ginny said with an eyeroll.

“If you’re going to accuse me, at least give some pertinent evidence!”

“The fact that you can’t think of one example yourself is part of the problem!”

The redhead paced the room, arms wound tight, as if to keep her fists from flying out.

“Like yesterday: The second Harry needed help or a boost you were all over it and completely forgot Ron. Yesterday morning you were ready to help Harry study for his exam over Ron until I piped up.”

Hermione’s brows began to crease. “Yes, but Ron did the same thing.”

“How’s that supposed to make it better?” she asked. “He needs to study and stop waking early and cooking for everyone when he’s getting no sleep- but there you are offering to help Harry on exams, letting Ron coax you into eating as if you’re a toddler, not even bothering to congratulate him on his first exam, while he does everything! It’s not like Harry has a better track record— this has been a habit of both of yours for years— but at least I know Harry is trying to look after him now and has tried to get him to take care of himself and boosted him up lately.”

“Considering your own track record for mercilessly teasing Ron, you’re one to talk!” Hermione shot back. “When do you ever ‘boost up’ your brother?”

Ginny’s face began to turn a deep shade of red. “You wouldn’t get it; you’re an only child.”

“I might not fully understand, but the way you and your brothers, especially the twins, belittle him all the time is why he has always been so unsure of himself.”

“We’re not responsible for his self-esteem issues!”

“Aren’t you?” Hermione sniped. “You all have undercut him every year, more than anyone else in the family, except maybe Percy. Everyone has always thought the twins were so very funny- but they were torturing Ron at every turn!”

“Don’t you talk about Fred and George!” Ginny growled, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Alright,” she conceded, trying to keep her voice controlled. “But don’t act like you’ve been so wonderful for Ron when you’re tearing him down every time you’re in the same room. I know you want to show how very independent you are, but it’s gotten just short of despicable the last few years.”

Ginny stared at the floor, and Hermione could practically hear her teeth grinding.

“Fine,” Ginny sighed, words barely making it to Hermione’s ears. “I could lighten up with the teasing. But Hermione, you need to see how Ron needs help— your help!”

“I helped him prepare for his exam all of yesterday!”

“He cares about you more than anything—“ Ginny continued as if Hermione had said nothing. “He’ll listen if you ask him to slow down! He’ll let you if you offer to do things for him! You can’t just sit back and be this… This empty vessel, accepting his love and attention and giving nothing back!”

“I give back!” Hermione said, more to soothe herself than because she believed it.

“Oh right— you do give him snogs.” Ginny rolled her eyes and went back to tearing through the room to find her sports bra.

Hermione had felt useless and terrible for weeks, but now it was confirmed… She was doing nothing, giving nothing… Useless, useless, useless…

“I’m going fucking mad!” Ginny cursed, started to look under her bed. “Is there a chance it’s with your clothes?”

“You’re free to look,” Hermione said, numbly staring at the wall. Ginny was right. She was an empty vessel. She couldn’t act. Couldn’t think.

Ginny grumbled as she looked under their beds, clearly unable to find… What was it she was looking for again? Hermione was going to ask when Ginny gave a small cry and backed out from under Hermione’s bed so quickly she nearly upset the nightstand.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“I think it’s blood,” Ginny said, face pale.

Realisation slowly dawned. Hermione's heart began to race as she watched Ginny's face contort with shock and disgust. She had been so consumed with her own guilt and self-hatred that she had forgotten about the brown paper package filled with Ron’s clothes.

Ginny crept back towards the bed and Hermione let out a faint, “Don’t—”

It was too late. Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands as Ginny stood in front of her.

"What is this?" Ginny asked, holding the blood-stained clothing.

Hermione couldn't find the words to speak. She slowly raised her eyes out of her hands. All she could do was stare at the clothes and feel the smell of sweat and blood engulfing her. There was so much blood.

“Hermione, what is this?” Ginny asked again, voice shaking in concern.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at her friend. "It's from when Ron was captured last year," she said barely above a whisper.

“At Malfoy Manor?” Ginny’s voice sounded small, young and so afraid.

She shook her head. “Snatchers.”

“What happened to him?”

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione stuttered, the words barely audible. “Did Harry tell you about Ron’s time away from us?”

Ginny gave a small nod. “The other night when he was drunk. He was waxing poetic ‘bout Ron, then said the Horcrux had driven Ron off and he couldn’t get back for a while.”

Hermione felt some modicum of relief. She had not discussed any of that with her, in part because she feared Ginny would judge Ron for leaving them. Hermione had judged him terribly at the time and she’d dealt with the Horcrux. Of course, if anyone could understand a Horcrux driving them to do something against their will, it was Ginny.

“He couldn’t get back to us because he was caught by Snatchers. When he came back he made a joke of it, said they were stupid and smelled and that he’d splinched a few fingernails off… and that was all.”

She looked down at the clothes.

“Day before yesterday Fleur gave me that brown package, as evidence, if he needed it…”

She explained what Fleur had described to her: an unrecognisable Ron, beaten and bloody, with broken bones and no explanation; All he had was a drive to get back to her and Harry.

“Harry doesn’t know about this,” Ginny said rather than asked, haphazardly folding the brown paper around his clothes and placing them on the ground between them.

Hermione shook her head. “Ron didn’t tell me or Harry any of this. He didn’t want us to know.”

“But now we do. We need to do someth—”

“And what exactly are we supposed to do?” Hermione interrupted. “He lied about it. Whatever horrible things they did, he doesn’t want any of us to know about it! Are we supposed to corner him and make him tell us what they did?”

“Maybe we should!” Ginny threw her hands in the air.

“And make him relive whatever he went through right when he’s in the middle of exams? Or if he comes back having done amazing today, we’re supposed to spoil his moment of triumph?”

“Well no, but… Someone needs to know. We should tell Mum and Dad! This is—” Ginny swallowed then stopped. “Bill would have told them if he wanted them to know… This is probably too much for them right now… And Harry would go mental…”

The two girls stared at the bloody clothes.

“We should talk to him about it,” Hermione said quietly, “but not right now…”

“When?”

Hermione gave a hopeless shrug. When did you confront someone with intimate evidence of a secret so foul?

Ginny bit her lip. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be…” She hadn’t said one thing that wasn’t true. “You’re right… I haven’t been good for Ron, good for anyone… I’ve been so… so utterly useless.”

Tears threatened to flood her eyes and she rapidly blinked, knowing she didn’t deserve to cry about anything.

“I’m sorry. I’m being a ninny,” Hermione said, squeezing the fat of her palms against her eye sockets.

She felt arms surround her. “You are good for Ron and me and everyone else. You’re family! You just have some blind spots—most people do around Harry.”

Hermione gave a vociferous sniff. How many times had she let Ron be in her blind spot? She wasn’t sure. She felt like she was hyper aware of him at all times, but everything was making it rapidly clear; she was utterly clueless when it came to Ron.

“Let’s get up and do something,” said Ginny. “You need to get out of bed and do things. I’ve felt depressed and useless before, and finding purpose and actually moving helps. I’d say let’s do some chores here, but my brother’s done most of them.”

Ginny carefully refolded the brown paper package and hid it deep under Hermione’s bed.

Hermione wanted to do something for Ron, something he would know meant he was appreciated. She had to admit she wasn’t very good at knowing what creature comforts he preferred. He liked being helped with papers and homework when he was overwhelmed, and seemed to like being held and having his head stroked a few of the times he’d been upset… Beyond that she wasn’t sure. For years she’d avoided any intimate gestures so she wouldn’t give away her infatuation. She gave Ron and Harry the same gifts, the same sorts of compliments— well she had to admit she tended to bite her tongue with Ron on compliments, for fear he’d know of her interest she’d convinced herself was one-sided.

The thought of how rubbish she was for him was flaring so loudly she could barely think, when she realised one creature comfort she’d seen him turn to.

“Perhaps we can do a bit of cooking?” asked Hermione. He loved a home cooked meal. If she could cook enough food he wouldn’t have time to take it on himself that week.

“Mum’s out visiting Andromeda and Teddy until late this evening and Dad’s got late meetings, so that’s perfect,” said Ginny.

A pang of guilt struck Hermione. She hadn’t thought about Teddy Lupin or any of them in weeks. Andromeda had lost almost her entire family and had a baby to care for. Hermione couldn’t even take care of herself anymore.

“I’ll find some easy recipes,” said Ginny as she left. Hermione could hear her footsteps fading down the stairs.

Hermione opened her bag and grabbed the first clothing her hands landed on so she wouldn’t become stalled with decisions, then looked in the mirror. She hated how pale and thin she was with giant dark bags under her eyes. And then there was her hair.

She’d been slightly neglecting it. Parts were getting knotted and she really needed to condition and comb it out before it turned into a woollen throw. Not wanting to bother with making it behave, she flung her hair up in a large topknot. She only had so much energy, and her hair wasn’t half as important as finally doing something nice for Ron.

She had just made it downstairs when the Floo activated with a ‘fwoosh,’ making both the girls startle.

“Hello, is this the Weasley residence?” said a woman’s officious voice through the green flames.

“This Floo is restricted access,” Ginny announced, arms crossed.

“Yes. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, is requesting permission to access your home,” the woman replied, a touch impatiently.

“Oh! Uh… Permission granted?”

“We will need to do a security sweep,” came a man’s voice.

“What?” asked Ginny, but suddenly the fireplace burst into person-sized green flames and two men emerged in deep purple robes.

“Pardon us. This won’t take a moment,” one of them smiled, as the other gruffly went through the Weasley kitchen doing a bevy of spells.

“It’s clear,” the friendlier of them said into the Floo. With another large movement of green flames, Kingsley walked into their home.

“I’m sorry for the production, but the Ministry is starting to insist on it.” He looked to the two officers, dutifully standing at attention. ”Gentlemen, you can leave.”

“Yes, sir,” the all-business one said, and with that they disappeared back to the Floo, letting the green flames turn back to normal on their exit.

“Do you have a security question for me?” Kingsley asked, spelling away the soot from his flowing dark blue robes.

“Oh, erm, yes,” Hermione said, looking to Ginny.

“Who was the Order of the Phoenix member who routinely ate the last of the plum puddings?” Ginny asked, a small smile on her face.

“That would be me,” he said with a slightly bashful look that seemed very out of place on such a powerful wizard. “And what object was a tripping hazard in the front hall of the Order Headquarters?”

“The umbrella stand,” Hermione and Ginny replied. It was bittersweet remembering how Tonks would trip over the stand with regularity.

“Should I get Mum from Andromeda’s?“ asked Ginny.

“No need to bother Molly. Or Andromeda. I’m here to speak with Hermione, the boys, and you as well, Ginny. I would have come when the boys weren’t in their Exam, but my schedule wouldn’t permit me to come for another few days,” he said, shaking his head.

“Sounds like you've been rather busy,” Ginny said, heading to the stove. “Tea?”

“Thank you, yes,” he said. He definitely looked strained compared to the other times Hermione had seen him.

“Hermione, I’ve been made aware that you and others were caught by Snatchers during the war.”

Ginny fumbled the kettle with a loud clang. “Sorry,” she said. Hermione could see her shoulders rising in tension.

“That’s right,” Hermione answered Kingsley, doing her level best to not look as fragile as she felt.

“I have a book of photos for you and the boys to look through. We need witnesses to confirm crimes and war crimes Snatchers committed so we can charge the perpetrators,” he said, opening the book to an array of wizards, and a few witches. Page after page were official ID photos from the Ministry. “I’m hoping the three of you are willing to identify the Snatchers who kidnapped you, and report any other individuals of note we should know about.”

“Wouldn’t their position as a Snatcher be enough for you to charge them?” Hermione asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Kingsley said, taking a seat at the dining room table. “Snatcher was just an official title given to people. Whether or not they actually committed crimes is another matter. If they fulfilled any of the duties of Snatcher beyond paperwork then that usually is enough to be charged with something like intent to kidnap, but there are some Snatchers who allegedly used their position to help people.”

“Well, they certainly haven’t helped anyone in this house,” Ginny said, putting out tea and the biscuit tin for them all.

“No. I don’t think anyone from the Order has seen the good side of a Snatcher,” he said with a rueful shake of his head, taking up his cup of tea. “So this book will have their photo bordered in orange if you recognise someone.”

Hermione turned a few pages, and there was Fenrir Greyback, staring back at her, his gruesomely sharp grin on full display. The black border around him turned orange and glowed.

“However, if they have committed crimes you witnessed, you can touch your wand to their photo to confirm you saw, heard or experienced evidence of their crimes. It will turn green. To do this, picture the crime in your mind and the possible charges will be listed underneath. No one but you, me, others who witnessed the crime and necessary staff can see this list.”

“Who are the necessary staff?”

“People actively working on the case or in the courtroom. The prosecutors, Aurors and clerks actively working on the case can see it, as well as whoever is defending them in court.”

“What happens if I just touch the photo without thinking of the specific crimes?”

“It will still grow green, but no list will be displayed. This might prompt an interview with an Auror or Ministry Prosecutor so we at least know what crimes you bore witness to or heard the confession of. If they need you to testify, they will contact you. The wand method can be a good way to cut down on you having to describe things to a stranger as often.”

Not wanting to describe Greyback’s crimes more than she had to, she touched her wand to his photo and thought back to the nights she’d seen him commit heinous crimes.

At Hogwarts and her sixth year out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Fenrir’s back and matted hair. He was hunkered over some prone figure. That figure had turned out to be Bill Weasley, who he had mauled and left scarred for life.

Then there was the night he and the other Snatcher captured her, the boys and others, taking them to Malfoy Manor. She could still remember the feel of him pressing against her in lewd ways, commenting on her flesh he wanted to bite. He and the others had beaten Ron. They had commented on killing others, and had kidnapped all of them, and turned them over to be tortured by Bellatrix.

Finally, she’d seen him mauling Lavender Brown, who was still horribly scarred and in recovery from it.

In tiny green writing it listed what she’d thought of.

Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm (GBH)

Causing GBH or wounding with intent to cause GBH

Common Assault

Actual Bodily Harm

Confession of Murder

Kidnapping

As the list continued down, the other photos moved to accommodate the lines of crimes, though many photos rolled their eyes and huffed at having to move.

The list continued on another few inches down, all the way to petty thievery.

It was odd seeing it laid out in words. In some ways it felt wrong for such heinous acts to be summed up so neatly in a few lines. At the same time, having a succinct list of crimes with Kingsley overseeing it, it felt like there might be some form of justice down the road.

“Keep the book and have the boys look over it, if they feel so inclined,” said Kingsley.

“Don’t forget Dean Thomas. He was captured by Snatchers too,” said Ginny.

“We haven’t. That’s how we learned about Harry, Ron and Hermione’s capture. They were investigating Ted Tonks’ death. I might be Minister now, but I wanted to help. He and Andromeda are old friends, and Order members, even if just peripherally.”

Hermione nodded as a thought struck her. “Is this a thorough list of all the Snatchers?”

“All that we have official photos of. There might be some people who aided Snatchers or acted as ones in some capacity who were not included. They didn’t get paid unless they were official Snatchers, so that was a good incentive for them to file paperwork and get ID photos.” He took a moment to glance at his watch. “I wish I could stay, but I have a meeting with the Prime Minister in a bit.”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, this more fully put into perspective Kingsley was a world leader now, not just a highly trusted Auror and Order member. “You didn’t have to bring this yourself, Kingsley.”

“If I had law enforcement you already knew and trusted I would have sent them.” It went unsaid that the Aurors they knew were now dead. “Plus I didn’t want to spring this on Arthur or Percy at work.”

“Thank you for being so thoughtful with this.”

“We Order members need to look out for one another,” he said with a small smile that managed to put her at ease. She was never an Order member, technically, but she appreciated the sentiment. “And Ginny, there are a few pages at the back with photos of people you might recognise from your time at Hogwarts; mostly surviving Death Eaters. If you chose to identify them for us that would be helpful to our cases.”

Ginny gave a nod.

“Minister, it’s time to meet with the Prime Minister,” came the woman’s voice through the Floo.

He sighed before dipping down the last of his tea.

“Thank you, ladies,” he said with a small bow of his head before leaving through the Floo again to his office.

“Meeting with the Prime Minister,” Ginny said with a whistle. “Poor man.”

“I hear this one is not too bad.”

“I don’t know anything about politics except that I want nothing to do with politicians,” Ginny said with a shake of her head as she sat at the table. Hermione declined to comment on how Kingsley was a politician now, or that Ginny and her family very much took a political stance almost daily with their actions and sentiments.

Hermione let her fingers trail over the book. “Should we show this to the boys?”

“Of course,” Ginny said, a crease of confusion between her eyebrows.

“But now? Would this be any better than bringing up Ron’s clothes?”

Ginny stared at the book. “We might learn who did all that to Ron…”

“But not what they did.”

“We can tell most of what they did from looking at his clothes,” said Ginny, eyes still not meeting Hermione’s. “I say we show them the book, but save any confrontations about the Snatchers until this Auror Exam business is over.”

“I don’t know…” Hermione dithered, not wanting to make things worse.

“I don’t want to delay the people in that book from getting put away. Neither will Harry or Ron.”

She was right, of course. Neither one of them would want to delay justice. At the same time, she didn’t want to make his life harder than she already had.

“Hand us the book, then,” said Ginny.

Hermione slid the book of Snatchers across the table.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Ginny, flipping her way through it and touching a few images here and there with her wand.

In all the time they’d spent at the Burrow since the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione hadn’t spoken with Ginny about her time at Hogwarts. Ginny had a few scars on her arms, but hadn’t brought up the topic once.

“Was Hogwarts very bad last year?”

“It wasn’t pleasant.” Ginny paused mid page flip. “It was a bit like when Umbridge was in charge, only with Unforgivables, pro-Voldemort propaganda, and dark magic.”

“Did they—?”

“Done,” said Ginny, touching the last picture and slapping the book closed.

“Was it the—?”

“I’ll start putting together food, you finish looking through the book,” said Ginny, a firm set to her jaw as she got out a few of Mrs Weasley's cookbooks.

It was times like this where Hermione wondered if Ginny would have ever chosen Hermione as a friend, if not for proximity.

They’d been very much thrown together over the years, the ‘only girls’ being forced to room together. Hermione could see the hesitancy Ginny had with her—girls had never particularly liked Hermione. Well, no children had really liked her until Ron and Harry. And Neville, though much of the time she felt it was because she was a life raft he needed more than he genuinely liked her.

The first few nights she spent in Ginny’s room the summer before fourth year had been awkward, but somehow they’d found a rhythm. Ginny was a lot like Ron: warm, welcoming, passionate, clever, brave, impossible not to like. Weasleys were all like that. The biggest difference was that Ron was never forced to spend time with her, be polite or welcome her in as a guest— initially he’d hated her and was an independent agent who owed her nothing— so when he changed and brought her into his life she knew he wanted her there. With Ginny, Hermione couldn’t quite tell how much was politeness and finally having a young woman nearby in a house of boys, versus her genuinely wanting Hermione’s presence around. Once back at school they would talk, but they had their own paths and Ginny rarely spent time with just Hermione.

In some ways they had the intimacy of friendship, but it always felt tenuous for her when Ginny was clearly upset, but tight-lipped. Hermione was ill-equipped to handle emotions on the best of days.

Not having it in her to pursue a stubborn Weasley, Hermione flicked through the book Kingsley had given them, finding Scabior and the other Snatchers who had captured them. These men provoked less fearsome memories than Fenrir and his groping claws and wake of blood he left wherever he went. She flipped to the back and recognised a few Death Eaters here or there. Bellatrix wasn’t there, being thoroughly dead.

Dark task done, Hermione turned her attention back to Ron and trying to help him in some way.

Food and something else… Ah! She set up his chess board and got out the paper, which Mrs Weasley had stopped hiding. Finding what she needed, she went to help Ginny.

They spent the rest of the afternoon making casseroles and quiches enough to last the household days without a person needing to lift a spoon to have meals ready.

The work had made the hollow feeling in her chest ease just a bit, but her attention was continuously brought to the book of Snatchers, resting like a scimitar ready to come down on the relative peace of the house.

The food wasn’t delicious. Despite following the recipes and tasting along the way, it was just average fare— but it was plentiful.

It was nearly time for dinner by the time the Floo burst into green flames again. Harry came through first, looking a bit pale, but smiling as Ginny bounded up. It warmed her to see that particular smile he only held for the youngest Weasley.

“How’d it go?” Ginny asked, throwing her arms around him. His hands quickly encompassed her waist.

“We both passed,” he told them.

Ginny quickly kissed him. “I knew you would! Bet you were flying circles around whatever they set up.”

“Definitely not,” he said, a rueful look on his face. “It was mad. They had these battle dummies that obliterated everything around us if they saw anything move. Nearly got blasted dozens of times. Would’ve, if it wasn’t for Ron.”

The green flames turned back to normal before dying down to nothing.

“Where is Ron?” Hermione asked, eyes fixed on the empty fireplace. What if something—

“He’s okay,” Harry assured her, reading her mind. “Percy showed up to congratulate him and Ron waved me off. Said he’d be here soon, though.”

“Oh.” Hermione felt herself deflate as she watched the empty grate. She only half listened to Harry describe his time in the exam and the vests that acted as portkeys.

She knew Ron was fine. Harry had said so. It didn’t make her feel less nervous not having him right there beside them.

“The forest was rife with traps, of course. Good thing we had fast brooms. At one point the trees all started falling in on us like Devil’s Snare or snakes. It was like that time with Nagini at Bagshot’s,” Harry said that last part to Hermione.

Both paused to remember one of the worst times of their lives— no Ron, one wand, Harry nearly dead in a torpor for days.

“I’m glad you had fast brooms,” Ginny said, biting her lip. “Here, let’s have you look this book over so we can get the bad stuff over with.”

Ginny grabbed the Snatcher book and pushed it towards Harry, explaining the purpose of the book and how the spells worked.

“It should already have all the ones we know, Harry,” said Hermione, watching as he flipped through the book, frown on his face. He read through the descriptions one by one, nodding. He’d witnessed most of the same crimes, so all but a few showed up for him.

“Looks pretty thorough,” he said, putting it back on the table and leaning back in his chair. “Ugh. I’m exhausted.”

“Would you like some dinner?” asked Ginny.

“That would be perfect,” he said with a sigh.

Hermione pursed her lips. How could they eat when Ron wasn’t back yet?

As if summoned by her thoughts of him, the fireplace burned green and out stepped Ron, a few papers in hand.

“You’re back!” Hermione cried, latching onto him, much as Ginny had Harry. He gave a hiss as she hugged his arm to her. She stood back. “Are you hurt?”

She cast a small frown at Harry. He’d said Ron was okay!

“Only a bit hurt. They fixed me up, but I landed on my arm and it’s still sore,” he said, giving his left wrist a bit of a rotation. She looked up to his face and belatedly realised he was sporting a beard. She’d never imagined him with one before. It made him look so much older and manly in a sort of valorous way that she suddenly wanted him all to herself.

“What’d you do to your face?” Ginny asked, bringing over the casserole dish and setting it out on the table.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve got a beard,” Hermione said, feeling her face start to burn.

“Damn it. I forgot to shave that off,” he said, fingers rasping against it. “We got into some sort of ageing mist. Me and my team were over a hundred years old for a bit. This is the leftovers of it, I guess.”

“You look like an orangutan,” Ginny teased.

“You look dashing,” Hermione corrected, fixing Ginny with a weighted glare who managed to look a touch sheepish.

“I mean, it just looks out of place because you’re young. If you grew one when you were older, I’m sure it’d look fine,” Ginny amended, getting a suspicious look from Ron.

“Do you think it’ll grow back once you shave it?” Harry asked.

Ron gave a shrug before bodily throwing himself into a chair and setting his papers on the table precariously close to the Snatchers book. “Dunno. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“We cooked. Are you hungry?” Hermione asked.

“Famished, thanks,” he said, sitting up taller in his seat.

She and Ginny put together plates that the boys eagerly tore into. Ron mostly stayed quiet as Harry told them about the last of their exam.

“Then Ron went up on his broom so the battle dummies would follow him and gave us an opening. What were you, half a mile up?”

“Felt like it when I was falling from it.” He gave a shudder.

“Then that annoying girl Ramona ended up capturing the flag, but it was all thanks to Ron,” Harry grinned as he took a bite of casserole.

“So Ron sacrificed himself?” Ginny asked, not smiling at all as she reached to add more casserole to Harry’s bowl.

“Ginny…” Hermione said warningly.

The boys seemed unaware of the minefield they’d stepped into.

“We had on those vests; I knew I’d be okay,” said Ron through a large bite. “Took forever for the portkey to kick in so I fell a long ways. Made me worry the vest wouldn’t work, for a bit— and of course, I thought I’d bollocksed up the exam, but I ended up passing anyway, somehow.”

“You sacrificed yourself and you didn’t know you’d pass,” said Ginny, pausing mid serve, a potent glare settling on Harry. “You let him do this?”

Harry roughly swallowed his bite, seeming to understand the situation given the way the smile fled his face.

“Let me?” began Ron, eyes glinting in challenge. “Harry’s not my minder. I made a plan and executed it.”

The ladle in Ginny’s hand quivered, and she looked very much like she wanted to fling it across the room then dump the remains of the casserole on Harry.

“And he did quite well, it sounds like,” Hermione prodded, hoping to avoid another Weasley fight. She understood the anger and fear swirling in Ginny, but she equally understood how Ron needed to have a moment to breathe and be celebrated. “And you’re not hurt badly, are you?”

“Er, no,” Ron said, giving his arm a wave to show how functional it was.

Ginny stared down at the table and took a deep breath. “Right…” She held her breath then finally released it, though it looked as if it were painful for her to do so. “Fine… let’s celebrate you then. I’ll put on the wireless.”

She turned on the wireless and fiddled with the dial, past news and Celestina Warbeck, until a Weird Sisters track came on, music buoyant and lighthearted. Hermione moved the Snatchers book to a nearby seat so they wouldn’t have to look at it.

As Ginny sat, Hermione just caught the intense glance she gave Harry that very much said, ‘we’re going to talk about this later, and I doubt you’ll enjoy it.’

The tension was palpable, but both the girls seemed determined to celebrate and keep it merry despite how tired the boys were and how Ginny was pointedly not touching or looking at Harry.

Hermione beamed when she was able to turn the dial of the wireless to a Chudley Cannons game.

“No!” Ron let out, a broad smile on his face. “Oh it’s been ages!”

They finished their meal with a few short games of chess by the fire that Ron won with more speed than usual- whether from Harry's distraction or Ron being in fine strategic form, she couldn’t say.

The Cannons game was quickly over when the opposing team caught the Snitch. Ron let out a moan of dismay.

“We’ll get them next time!” he said before giving a vociferous yawn.

“You both look exhausted,” Ginny said to the boys. “Let’s turn in for the night.”

The question of ‘where’ hung about until Ginny waved it away with a, “Hermione do you need to grab anything from my room?”

Oh, it was going to be like that.

Harry, who normally was quite eager to spend time with his girlfriend, looked much like he did before going into battle; pale, jaw clenched, determined with a touch of fear as he worked out a plan.

Toothbrush in the bathroom, Hermione shook her head, giving Harry a look that was both apologetic and commiserating. She’d been on the receiving end of Ginny’s anger only earlier that day, and it had felt blistering and hollowing all at once. By the look of ire on Ginny’s face, he had a long night ahead of him.

Ron put on his ‘disapproving brother’ face as they went up the stairs, but it soon turned into a great yawn and a small smile at Hermione.

“Thought they’d never leave,” he said, putting out a hand and coaxing her from her seat towards him. She quickly moved where his hand guided her, until she was standing between his knees with him grinning at her. “You cooked food for me.”

“Well it was for everyone, and it wasn’t as good as your mum’s by any stretch, even though we tasted it all to make sure it was right and followed the recipe as written to the t,” she babbled until his hand squeezed hers and he squinted at her in that teasing way only he could. “But yes. I cooked for you.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, but it felt like there was more to it. “You kept busy today and ate your dinner tonight. Well done.”

She hadn’t noticed, actually. She bristled at being praised for something so very minor and pathetic in terms of accomplishments. One glance into his warm expression made her ease, feeling like a hedgehog relaxing its quills until they laid flat. Somehow he was staring at her with genuine pride, happy she’d taken care of herself even minorly. She wished she could so easily convey how she felt to him.

“We should be celebrating you right now,” she said, trying not to let the wash of emotions make her wobble.

“How were you thinking?” he asked carefully, letting another hand drift up and hold her other hand.

“I was thinking we could go to bed and you could tell me yourself about everything you did,” she said before pulling him towards her out of the chair. He was so tall his head nearly hit the nearby hanging lamp. “Maybe I could massage your hurt arm, and then—”

He leaned forward and she thought he was going to kiss her before he bent past her and grabbed some papers.

“We have something we need to talk about first,” he said, face suddenly a mask of seriousness, brows arching into an apprehensive wrinkle.

Hermione worried her lower lip. It could be anything he wanted to discuss; Snatchers, school, trials, Death Eaters… “Whatever it is, can it wait until tomorrow?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“If it isn’t an emergency, then I’d rather wait on knowing anything about it.”

“It’s not an emergency, exactly… But you want to wait?” he asked, clearly unsure and sceptical. A measure of disbelief at her wanting to put off knowing something was natural. She rarely put off knowing anything and was fairly ravenous in her appetite for every bit of knowledge at her disposal, be it the contents of a nearby pamphlet, the next chapter of a book, or the surprise behind someone’s back. She preferred the instant gratification of answers to any joy built through anticipation.

“Do you want to wait on even knowing what it’s about?” asked Ron. “Because you normally prefer to know everything sooner than later. And this is rather a big bit of news.”

He knew her too well.

“You don’t seem to think whatever it is will be good news,” said Hermione, mentally noting how he still looked wan and worried. She didn’t have the wherewithal to process bad news, and didn’t want barely-held-together Ron to have to pick up the emotional pieces she could shatter into.

“It’s not bad news,” he assured her, “but you might not be happy with me about it.”

“Then it can wait,” she said with confidence. “Let’s just be happy tonight.”

“You sure?” he asked, eyes wide and in that particular lamplight, startlingly blue.

“Quite.”

“And you promise not to be mad that we put it off?”

“Yes,” she promised, doing her level best not to be irritated at him questioning her again. “I have something for us to go over tomorrow, too, but as opposed to your announcement, it’s decidedly unpleasant.”

Ron cast a wary look her way, body bracing as if he was about to take a hit. “Did I— Or is it— Did George do something—?”

“Oh no, no!” she denied with emphasis, feeling wholly inconsiderate she’d not made it more clear. “It’s nothing you’ve done and it’s nothing to do with your family at all! It’s just identifying some criminals from the war for Kingsley. Harry and I already did it, but you can add yourself to the witness list.”

She picked up the Snatchers book.

His face immediately changed and his body relaxed back into his usual loose, easy posture.

“We can check out the uglies tomorrow,” he happily agreed.

Part of her selfishly wished he’d gone ahead and protested. She wanted to watch him look through the book, and see him recognize his assailants so she could put them on a private hit list. She felt such loathing for the unknown Snatchers it was hard to school her features into a neutral expression. She must have failed at this, for he gave a chuckle and took the book from her.

“How about we hide that and these papers in my roll top, and get to that celebration you were talking about,” he said, bringing up a fist to cover his yawn and gave a frown. “After I shave.”

“You could keep it,” Hermione promptly said, before heat took over her face. She wished for a curtain of hair to hide behind instead of a giant poof of a bun swaying uselessly on top of her head.

Ron’s face lit up with his lopsided grin. “Oh yeah? You like it?”

“I don’t mind it,” she corrected.

“What did you call my beard when Ginny said I looked like a monkey?”

“Dashing,” she mumbled. “And she said orangutan.”

“I much prefer your description.” His voice had pitched down just a hint.

Overwhelmed by the girlish giggle trying to make its way out of her, she giddily backed up a pace until she bumped against one of the room’s wooden posts. He leaned in. “Course you might not feel the same if I were to kiss you. Might be a touch scratchy.”

Her pulse quickened. “Were you planning on kissing me?”

Ron's grin widened as he stepped closer to her, causing her heart to race. "Were you hoping I would?"

Hermione felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she met his gaze. "Maybe," she whispered.

Without another word, Ron leaned in and pressed his lips gently against hers. She could feel the roughness of his beard against her skin, grounding her in a kiss that would otherwise make her float.

After a few blissful seconds, they pulled away from each other, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

“I think we should take this celebration up to your bedroom," said Hermione.

“Yeah we’d better go before Mum arrives,” Ron said, taking her hand and leading her up the multiple flights of stairs to his room.

After twenty four hours of heartache and self loathing, her mind was in a state of contentment again. Once they were in his room, she quickly spelled together their bed.

And then the moment seemed to pause and they stared at one another, not sure how to go back to kissing, or try their hand at something else. Hermione was hoping kissing could lead to something else that would keep her mind thoroughly distracted.

“Do you want to change for bed?” he asked, quickly finding the same Cannons t-shirt she’d worn the other day.

“Alright, but after that I want to celebrate you a bit more. It sounds like you were really amazing.”

His cheeks turned red and he rubbed his neck. “I did alright.”

“Hmmm… Why don’t you tell me about it?” she asked, walking towards him and trailing her hands along the bottom hem of his shirt.

He gave an appreciative hiss. “I can’t talk worth a lick when your hands are on me like that.”

“Then we’d better change and get in bed.”

Not waiting for him to gallantly turn around, she pulled off her shirt, feeling a thrill as he stared at her, mouth just slightly open but turning up at the edges and hiding in his beard. Her face flushed under his scrutiny, but she liked being stared at like she was a desirable woman instead of a prudish, emotionally damaged, skinny mess.

He shook his head and started taking his shirt off. She grinned at the sight, his long lean frame, the steady muscles of his pecs and arms bunching as he finished taking off his shirt.

She began to unbutton the top of her jeans and peeled them off. Like a returning volley in tennis, he did the same.

Down to only their underthings they stood still, flushed and raw as they stared at one another and took in every detail.

He broke the tension by picking up the Cannons shirt and silently offering it to her. She took it, rubbing the soft worn fabric between her fingers. She looked up to see him watching her, breath bated, cheeks flushing all the way to his ears. She loved how he was a combination of lust and innocence, one moment ravenously kissing her, the next chivalrously trying to cover her modesty.

She let the shirt fall from her hand.

He tilted his head in a silent question.

She answered his question by bounding into his arms.

She giggled in surprise as he hefted her up by her bottom just a moment, letting her legs cross behind his hips. His long fingers nearly spanned each globe as he kneaded them. She continued to kiss him, revelling in the powerful way he held her, and how the rugged beard felt against her.

He moved her quickly to the bed, but had less surety in his movement as he went to put her down, there being a wobbly-legged moment where he crouched, but was still unable to quite reach the low bed with her wrapped around him.

“Heh, thought I’d stick the landing better,” he huffed, unsteadily placing her on the bed. She smiled and pulled him towards her, fingers curling around his broad shoulders.

“Next time I’ll build a taller bed,” she murmured, wanting to feel him against her. He smelled of pine needles and fresh air. He felt warm and firm against her.

She wanted to take in every detail of him: his countless freckles over every contour of his face, the riot of reds and oranges through his hair that wavered like a flame each time he moved.

And then she looked up into his deep-set blue eyes. Her heart beat faster seeing the tender gaze he had in his face. He had so many shades of blue in his eyes, like an early evening sky just beginning to dim. He was like a painting, and they had chosen all the best complementary colours that made him vibrate with life.

“You’re beautiful,” she let out, wanting to smother herself as he incredulously looked at her then burst out into a chuckle. He laughed the same way he did everything, with his full feeling and full body going into it. “Don’t laugh!”

“Sorry!” he wheezed, rolling off her and to the side to continue laughing, “just think your bun might be twisted too tight.”

“It’s not funny!” It made her furious he’d find that so laughable.

“There are a lot of words to describe me— you probably know more words than anyone— so it’s pretty funny you’d choose… that,” he said with a snort, clearly uncomfortable.

Hermione found herself irascibly tongue-tied, which especially seemed to happen when he was down on himself.

The dark thoughts began creeping up on her… Useless. Empty vessel.

“I do know a lot of words,” she finally said, poking him in the side. “Exasperating, childish, mercurial!”

He gave a chuckle, looking fondly at her, happy to be teased by her again. She wouldn’t let him off so easily.

“Heroic, witty, good…” Her fingers traced the swirling silvery scars up his arms. “And yes, beautiful.”

He shifted under her gaze. “I’d rather save that one for you.”

“If you like,” she said, more to get along than because she’d ever thought the term could seriously apply to herself. “But altogether you have to know I think… I think you’re just about perfect.”

His eyes rapidly blinked. “Oh.”

“I’ve always felt that way… You were always this fiery boy who felt things so deeply and I was drawn in.”

“Long noses and tattered hand-me-down robes had you done for, hmm?”

“You can try to deflect all you like, but like I said earlier, I’m celebrating you!” She gave him a small shove and he winced as he put more weight on his left arm.

“Is it still hurting?” she asked, sitting up.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly.

“Well, they should have healed you properly, instead of sending you home hurting!” she said, pushing him back on the bed so she could look at his arm. It was the same one she’d Splinched all those months ago.

Blood spattered leaves flickered in her memory and she had to shake her head to rid herself of the dark red pools.

“Let me take a look.” She went to grab his arm, but he flinched away.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she told him firmly, having him twist his wrist for her. His hand shook a bit as he did so, the range of motion stiff and unsteady. “You need to see the Auror’s Healer tomorrow. I don’t think they healed it right.”

“Okay,” he said, a petulant set to his jaw.

“We need you in good fighting shape for the final exam.” She took his knuckle and kissed it, surprised at the ease of such a new gesture for them. “So? Tell me about today’s exam.”

“Oh, Harry told most of it,” he said, lying back on his pillow.

Harry had told the gist of it. He was good at getting across the essential information, but it wasn’t like Ron, the story-teller of their group.

Their letters were the same as when they told stories in real life: Harry was a good communicator in his letters, mostly because he was trapped with his horrid relatives and it was his only escape. Harry’s letters would tell about various happenings, but only get very detailed if there was some big mystery to unravel. Ron’s were different in every way- he’d go on into details about little interactions between gnomes, or go off about his mother’s reactions to the twin’s newest pranks— he painted a picture; personal and thoroughly engaging.

“He might have, but he wasn’t there for all the moments your teams were split up. And even if he had told us, I’d still want to hear it from you,” she said, grabbing a blanket to cover up their nearly nude states.

“Fine then,” he hummed as she settled into the spot just above his heart to listen. In this position she could feel his baritone voice rumble through her in a comforting vibration, and in the lulls of his story she could just manage to hear his heart beat, strong and steady.

His voice was quiet and low as he told her all about the Bots and the ride across the lake, then made her gasp as he told her about saving an ungrateful Ramona.

“You dove your broom into the water?”

“Well I had to if I wanted to have an intact team,” he said with a shrug that temporarily tilted her head away from him.

The horrors continued as he described the Aging Mist, but she had to admit the leftovers of it were more than intriguing.

She had never pictured Ron with a beard before and she’d have to convince him to grow it back someday. Hermione buried her head into his chest after he described the fall from the broom.

“I can’t believe they let you fall all that way! It’s completely barbaric!”

“I told them it was fucked up,” he agreed, long calloused fingers trailing along her side. “But I’m okay, minus the arm, and I passed.”

The entire picture of it left her in awe. Ron Weasley had a talent for that, though. Every time she thought he’d proven what all he could do, he’d burst through her high expectations and do something even more amazing. He never appreciated the surprise she’d show when she marvelled at him. No, she’d need to be more firm in her praise.

“I’m really proud of you.”

His eyes widened and he let out a small, “really?”

Despite his current beard, he looked so young and innocent. She thought of first year when he won points for his chess game and the look of wonder that anyone had noticed him, let alone given him attention and praise on such an epic scale.

“Yes. Your plans were brilliant, and you lead your team so well.” She’d almost wished it had been a poor fit so he wouldn’t be an Auror, but it was obvious he was a natural.

“I dunno…” he said, blushing and tucking his head down.

“I do,” she replied, curling a leg around his and bringing him in for a kiss. It began as tentative and assuring, but Ron could always be depended on to react swiftly— just like with their first kiss when she went in first— he quickly met her with passion and caught her to him. His kisses somehow improved every time and he had now mastered the art of leaving her breathless, brainless, heated and needy. He was so amazing, and kind to others and — she broke the kiss. “You weren’t supposed to be so self sacrificing!”

“Huh?” he asked her, still kiss-drunk.

“I told you I don’t want you to be a hero saving people! I wanted you to be selfish and so you’d always come back to me. That’s the plan with the Aurors!”

“I’ll try,” he said, eyes very much set on her mouth.

“Well, try harder,” she said, holding his wrist for inspection again. She absolutely despised the thought of him laying down his life for anyone, but that Ramona character was so unworthy of it she wanted to spit.

He gave a short chuckle and she scowled up at him.

“I’ll try harder, since you care so much,” he said, nudging his forehead against hers.

“You should try harder whether I care or not!” she demanded, poking his chest. To her annoyance he gave another laugh. “It’s not something you should be so cavalier about.”

“I’m not cavalier,” he said, mouth trying and failing to contain a smile.

“Take what I’m saying seriously!”

“Oh I take you more seriously than anything,” he vowed, all mock sternness as he leaned in and kissed her again.

She couldn’t stay mad as his lips moved against her own. The kisses quickly blossomed into a fevered frenzy as their bodies moved against each other in a natural rhythm. His hand sprawled the width of her back, and fingers slid up and under her bra band for a tantalising moment, before his whole arm encompassed her waist and held her closer. There was nothing like the sweet intensity of being surrounded by him, feeling his warmth and care moving against her skin.

She moved her hips forward and felt his hardness beginning to press against her.

His hands skimmed up and down her sides, just holding back from intimately grazing her breasts.

“Rooon, please just touch me,” Hermione breathed into his mouth before kissing him deeply again. She didn’t care if she sounded desperate or silly, she wanted Ron’s hands upon her. And then they were, thumbs pressing across her breasts and teasing her nipples until they stood taut and tight under her bra.

Her soft moans encouraged him, and he leaned forward, kissing his way down down her chest until he nestled up to her breast. He looked up at her for silent permission she happily gave, nodding as he gently moved the cup of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth.

Her hands trailed through his soft fiery hair. As a couple they slowly fell back into his bed. It surprised her how he could be on top but she didn’t feel smothered or crushed; he just managed to keep enough of his weight above her to make it comfortable.

His fingers trailed down to her cotton pants, just teasing the elastic.

“I want to touch you,” he whispered as two of his long calloused fingers dipped just a touch around the edge of her pants. “That okay?”

“Please,” she whimpered, not wanting him to ask anymore. She just wanted him everywhere without pause. “Do whatever you want.”

His eyebrows went up at that, and a wicked smile lit his lightly flushed face.

“Alright then,” he said, voice nearly as deep as she’d ever heard it.

He gently began to slide the pants down her legs and she quickly assisted by raising her hips. She was naked before him, but all thoughts of modesty left her as his fingers returned. With tenderness they explored her nethers, crooking and coaxing, making her let out sounds she never thought she’d be capable of that quickly. He’d definitely been paying attention the last time, because he knew every spot and angle.

“You’re so wet for me,” he moaned and she let out a gasped, “yes!”

His touch scorched and filled her with bliss until her mind was clear of anything but Ron, Ron, Ron.

“Ron!”

Then his mouth was on her clit and sucking, fingers still exploring. She gave a heady sound of approval, feeling the momentum and tightening coil in her centre. He fingered her faster, the sounds of her slickness and gasps filled the room, and with a final buck of her hips she felt the coil release. Her orgasm crashed over her, leaving her twitching around his fingers, muttering nonsense of thanks and curses as he kept pumping his fingers, slower and slower through the waves of contractions.

In an enticingly filthy moment he licked those fingers and smiled up at her.

Not giving him more than a moment to bask in his triumph, she grabbed him by the sides of his face to properly kiss. He scrambled up her body and quickly complied. His beard was wet with her, and somehow that made her even more turned on.

They kissed and she rubbed her wet fanny up and down his tented boxers, feeling the hardness pressing against her, just barely teasing her, ready to enter her if not for the boxers. They both stopped, looking down at what they were doing.

“Erm… I don’t think… Are-you-ready-for—?” he began.

“Maybe not quite yet…” she agreed.

“How about I keep my boxers on?”

Part of her wanted to see his hardness. Part of her wanted to have him take her virginity right there. She wasn’t sure if she was ready, though. Maybe she was? But it was probably better to know instead of guess. It’d be difficult to resist letting him plunge into her if he removed that last barrier.

“Okay, boxers on,” she said, moving herself back into the position they’d just been in.

She ground her hips upward, canting until he was again teasing her slickness.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good,” Ron panted, starting to hump into her with equal fervor. “Have a perfect little pussy.”

The dirty words made her speed up her movements, and seemed to push him towards the edge as well. She kissed him again, urgent and without finesse, only passion and hunger guiding her. After only a minute or so he gave a low grunt and spent himself.

The two lay there, panting and entwined, basking and senseless, unable to think of anything to say. They were smelling of sex and had very nearly gone all the way, and she felt a sense of satisfaction that made her fall into a boneless puddle.

“Fuck me, that felt amazing,” Ron weazed, before wobbily lowering himself to give a her quick kiss. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, too tired to even think of cleaning up or looking for her wand. Ron was much in the same boat. He curled around her, nuzzling his face up on her naked breast.

After a few minutes he mumbled into her side, ”this is by far the best pillow I’ve ever had.”

Hermione let out a puff of a laugh. She played with his hair and stared at the ceiling, watching his posters moving. She’d nearly dozed off when he began moving. With his absence, she suddenly felt how naked and filthy she was.

She could hear the sound of him standing and watched as he removed the boxers, his cock still partially hard. She held herself back from smacking his cute bum as he leaned down to find his wand that had rolled onto the floor.

He said a few cleaning charms and the sticky wetness was gone.

“Er, maybe we should do a charm?” he said, face going a bit red.

“Charm?” Hermione dazedly asked.

“You know… the, er… contraceptive-charm,” he muttered.

“Oh yes!” she said, sitting up. They probably were safe, but it rapidly occurred to her that they were walking a precarious line, especially considering how young they were. She found her wand and did the incantation. She had Ron do it too, just in case she’d not managed it correctly.

Ron handed her the Cannons shirt a second time. This time she took it. “Don’t feel like you have to cover up, because seeing you with yours tits out is just about my favourite sight.”

“Seeing your arse is welcome too,” Hermione shyly laughed, holding the shirt to her chest.

“You like my arse?” he asked, a bit cockily as he put on some new boxers.

“I thought you already knew that,” she said, putting on the orange t-shirt. As much as she wanted to bask in Ron’s attention, she was cold and didn’t want a naked run-in the next morning with Harry or, Merlin-forbid, Mrs Weasley.

“How in the world would I?” He got into the bed and stretched out to his full length, foot going over the end of the bed. He propped his head up with one hand and stared at her expectantly.

“Back when we left Bill and Fleur’s wedding and you changed clothes and I packed your tight jeans,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the bed spread. She thought it had been obvious.

“Y’mean you did that on purpose?” She nodded, glancing up at Ron who gave a chuckle. “And here I was, miffed I couldn’t so much as shift one nut.”

“Or fit your wand,” added Hermione.

“I swear you go straight filthy after we’ve had a roll around,” he said, poking her nose.

“What did I say?” she asked, before giving a huff. “You know I meant your magic wand and not... You’re absolutely perverted!”

“Mmmhmm,” he agreed, turning the light off. “But now I know you’ve been eyeing my arse for at least ten months and even plotted to see it better. Who’s the pervert now?”

She blushed anew and curled up into her side of the bed.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he softly added. “I like knowing you thought of me like that.”

“I still do.”

“Right,” he added, giving her a small nudge. “Thanks for that.”

“I have no choice in the matter. It’s always been you,” she said with a shrug. It was an easy thing to say, for it was as true a fact as the moon circled the earth and the North Star was constant.

She heard his breath catch before resuming again. For the longest time, he didn’t reply. She was about to ask if he was asleep when she heard a quiet, “and you for me. You’ve always been my girl.”

She smiled at the thought. Niggling thoughts of his interest in Lavender, Fleur and Madame Rosmerta tried to buck their way in, but she kept them at bay knowing none of that mattered— she had Ron Weasley beside her in bed and he’d said he loved her just the other day.

As the giddiness wore off and sleep started to beckon, she realised she hadn’t put a silencing charm on herself yet. She couldn’t very well do the charm and not have an explanation in place.

“Erm, Ron?”

“Hunf?” he grogged.

“I was snoring the other night,” she lied. “You need your sleep, so I’m going to put a silencing charm on myself.”

He breathed in slow breaths of someone mostly asleep before he gave a nonsensical, “s’okay. Go backta work.”

Soon he was snoring away, somewhat muffled by the pillow he had his face buried in.

She put the spell on herself and fell asleep to the sawing snores of Ron.

Hermione woke up to a hint of sunlight warming her nose, gave a lazy stretch and looked to her side. A hint of ginger hair poked above the blanket.

She smiled and rolled over to find Crookshanks giving a large stretch before waddling her way with a small ‘mrrrrowl.’

As happy as she was to have her cat boop her with his head and purr, she had hoped to wake up to Ron. As if he knew her thoughts, Crookshanks went to the door, gave a demanding meow, and gave her a stare that clearly meant ‘now.’

She undid her silencing spell and was about to get up for the demanding feline when there was a small knock at the door.

“It’s me,” came Ron’s voice.

“Come in.”

He opened the door, bringing a plate covered in a gingham towel, and a sweet smile that made her feel a flutter in her middle. Crookshanks wound around his ankles.

“Go on, you mangy beast,” he muttered, but he had a fond smile on his face as he watched Crookshanks prance out the door.

His jaw was pink from being recently clean-shaved. She’d been fond of the beard, though she thought him every bit as handsome without it.

“It’s your room, you don’t have to knock,” she said, as he approached the bed.

“Didn’t want to interrupt you changing or something.” He blushed and gave a shrug. She ducked her head and smiled at how they were back to shy teenagers in the light of day. “Brought you breakfast.”

With a flick he removed the towel from the plate. The toast and eggs and fruit all looked and smelled perfect. Her mouth watered, but her hands clenched.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite, hand held under to catch crumbs. “Have you eaten yet?”

He nodded and put the plate on the bedside table beside her, obviously displeased that she hadn’t taken the fork and started shovelling food.

Ron went to his roll top desk and took out the book of Snatchers and his mysterious papers from the night before. Eating felt even more impossible.

He was holding the book and hadn’t seemed to realise his torturers could be in there. And she was going to let him find them without warning him. If she let him know about the Snatchers he might avoid the book altogether, and then she’d never know their identity.

“Kingsley wants us to mail this to him after?” he asked, holding up the book.

She nodded.

Ron whistled and Pig fluttered through the window.

“Dunno if he can carry the book, actually,” Ron said with a small laugh. Pig puffed up his chest and made a mad scramble for the book, enthusiastically carrying it a few feet towards the window. “Not yet, you little numpty!”

With a grunt, Ron caught the little owl from the air and the book tumbled to the ground, falling open to a page of Snatchers. Even from the bed she could see the borders of two Snatchers turn a glowing orange.

Ron stood frozen, staring at the book. His ruddy cheeks paled and his eyes widened just a hint.

Having no idea how long she would get to look at the Snatchers before their identities were lost to her, Hermione quickly bent down and picked up the book.

The two Snatchers shared the last name Crowthers. They were clearly related, even without knowing their names. They were thick-set men, with prominent jumps in their nose bridges, the same sloping heavy brows and wavy near-blonde hair that went into overgrown mutton chops. Marcellus Crowthers had a somewhat thinner neck and somewhat softer and duller look compared to his brother. Otho Crowthers looked ahead with a malevolent stare, and a cruel smirk that hinted at a cold indifference. He also had ears with overlarge cartilage around the edges. She had seen that before in a rugby match her father was watching. He called it ‘cauliflower ear’ — a deformity caused from blunt force trauma to the ear. One normally saw that in wrestlers and boxers. In this case, she imagined he’d been in many a brawl.

Ron had been silent a long time.

“The pictures glow orange if you recognise someone,” she murmured, closely watching Ron as she lifted the book up. He stared at the pictures with rapidly thinning lips. “You touch your wand to them if they committed a crime you witnessed and the border turns green. If you also think of the crimes they committed when touching the photo with your wand, it lists the crimes.”

He blinked at the page.

“I don’t need to do that.”

“No one can see it except you and the staff who are doing the trial. It’s so they know what crimes to charge them with and can ask you to be a witness if they need to. It also saves them interviewing you to know which crimes you witnessed.”

His normally expressive face dulled until he looked worn and thin as an old flag about to rip in the wind.

Without saying a word he took his wand out and held it to the book.

As the pictures budged over for the text she saw Marcellus’s photo did not need much space for whatever he’d done. Otho Crowthers, on the other hand, needed photos to move and make way for the invisible list of his crimes.

She was going to find him and hurt that man. It wasn’t a question in her mind. She’d have to, for whatever he’d done to Ron. She’d kept that Skeeter woman in a jar for weeks, and cursed Marietta Edgecomb’s face for crimes that now seemed so small by comparison. Yes, Otho Crowthers was going to pay; in blood if she could make it happen.

Ron stared at the text she couldn’t see, face horribly devoid of emotion.

When he’d stared at it for over a minute she finally spoke.

“Harry and I found Fenrir and a few of the Snatchers that got us before Malfoy Manor,” she quietly told him. “Are these some of the Snatchers you came across last winter?”

He nodded and gave a rough swallow. “Yeah.”

She had to remind herself that she didn’t ‘officially know’ what had happened to him. He hadn’t told her yet. She couldn’t force him to talk about it now; not when he was staring at those faces; not when he had a career dependent test that evening and needed his wits about him.

She needed to lighten the mood somehow, but had no gift in that. Distraction was all she could think to do.

“These eggs look perfect. I suppose Ginny didn’t cook.”

“No,” he said with a wane perfunctory smile, obviously made for her sake.

“Your mum?”

“Mhmm,” he replied, turning the page so harshly he almost tore it. With purpose, he turned to the S names, scanning with his finger until he found a man named Stennis Smythe.

“You know their names?” she asked in astonishment.

“Only the three.” He quickly touched the photo of Smythe with his wand and photos moved a bit for the invisible list of crimes to form. It wasn’t quite as long as Otho Crowthers’, but it was close.

He silently searched through the book until he’d found three more figures he went through so fast she barely had time to see their photos; a gaunt bald man, a man with a dark beard, and a small round-faced man.

“I thought there were five of them, not six,” she said, as he went back to Greyback and others she was familiar with.

“One of them was unconscious by the time I was escaping, so it was five of them versus me,” he said shortly, finishing up the book, putting a feather-light spell on it, and holding it out for Pig. “Take this to Kingsley.”

Pig seemed to sense Ron’s unease, and landed on his shoulder, leaning in to him until his little owl head was resting on his owner’s jaw.

“Thanks, little guy,” said Ron, giving the small bird a small tickle on his chest.

With a tiny hoot, Pig leapt down and took the book, over compensating for what he thought would be a heavy book, and nearly hitting himself on the ceiling. He regained his flight path, and made his way out the window.

They both watched the owl until he was gone.

“Are you alright?” she quietly asked Ron.

“What?” he asked in return, looking back at her. “Oh— Oh yeah I’m fine.”

He had just lied through his teeth, putting on a grimace of a smile. “Now that’s all over and done with, I’d like to show you something.”

She felt nervous as he guided her to sit, but was still standing himself. His hands nervously fiddled with the edge of the papers. After having to hold her tongue with the Snatchers book, she had little patience for whatever surprise he was going to spring on her.

“So…” he said, rocking back on his heels a moment and biting his lip, eyes fixed on the papers. “I was looking for a quill and ink the other day and needed to borrow some from you. You and I definitely need to do some quill shopping later— I know, it’s not book shopping, but it’s still one of your favourites…”

He glanced up at her, clearly trying to soften her up. She raised her eyebrows in a sign for him to continue.

“Yeah, right… Erm…” he coughed. “I didn’t mean to pry, but in your bag I found your notes about finding your parents.”

She suddenly felt cold.

“So I went and talked to Percy because he’s in charge of family reunification. There’s a discretionary fund for helping with the costs of it, like portkeys and travel expenses, and I told him everything I knew about your parents and their new names and their jobs and— and then he came to me today at the Auror office after the exam and… Hermione, they’ve found your parents.”

She stared at him, mouth agape, brain staggered as well as if she’d been hit over the head with a frying pan. She could feel her brain trying to restart, emotions trying to flicker to life, actions trying to animate her. She could flee the room she was so overwhelmed, or she could angrily hex him for his interference, or rain down hugs and kisses upon him until he was absolutely smothered in love.

She settled on bursting into tears.

“I’m sorry!” he said, quickly hovering his hands over her, seemingly not sure where to place them. “Did I— Should I not have done that? I’m so sorry. I just wanted to help, and—”

“Ron—” she began, but her sobs choked and overwhelmed any words.

“If you don’t want the Ministry’s money, it’s okay! I got that job at the Pub so I could save up some money to help you,” he reached under his bed and took out a bag filled with Muggle cash, putting it on her lap. “So I can help pay for that! And then there’s the Auror signing bonus— y’know, if I pass—” he said in a low voice.

He shook his head, undeterred. “So we can make this happen. However you want. I just want you to be happy, and thought this might help, but now you’re crying and—”

“Ron Weasley!” she wetly cried through a sob.

He wilted in front of her.

“You… You high handed…” He flinched. “Perfectly wonderful man.”

He looked up, mouth a perfectly open ‘o.’

“You’re… you’re not mad?” he asked, peering hopefully at her.

Unable to articulate the roiling emotions, she shook her head and continued to sob, hands curling around the wads of money he’d laid in her lap.

“We’ll get you your parents back and we’ll make everything okay again,” he said, putting his much larger hands on hers. “Right after my C.R.E.s are done, we can go, if you want.”

She nodded, though a gravid feeling of dread began to grow in her gut at the thought of seeing her parents so soon. She wasn’t ready, but she was too much of a shamed coward to say so out loud.

Instead she let Ron hold her hands as she cried. She cried for how much she loved Ron and how kind and wonderful he was. She cried in relief that she didn’t have to get money or resources to find her parents. And she cried knowing that when she brought back their memories they’d finally be lost to her for good.

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

author’s notes:

A special thank you to everyone who took the time to write a comment! Y'all are so thoughtful and I thoroughly appreciate you all so much. You keep me inspired! :D Let me know what you thought.

ETA- forgot to add link to the duelling stuff about Ron- one of my fave metas and I had to insert it somewhere in here

Chapter warnings: depressed/anxious/scattered thinking, character ‘death’, description of blood and wounds, explicit sex scene, swearing

If you want to skip the explicit sex scene, but not accidentally miss anything, here are the words to stop and start at: STOP AT: 'The kisses quickly blossomed into a fevered frenzy as their bodies moved against each other in a natural rhythm.' START AGAIN AT: 'The two lay there, panting and entwined, basking and senseless, unable to think of anything to say.'

[demadogs]

oh please elaborate on your ocs & story if it's not a secret project!

its not a secret project at the moment but i would like it to be one day so i dont wanna share too much! i also couldnt share too much if i wanted to just because its SO new and fresh that theres still so many plot points im still working on. ive got a lot of character traits for each of them but not a lot of the world building. like its post-apocalyptic but i still dont even know why lol. im leaning towards a meteor. something interstellar, not human caused.

basically its a gay mlm love story between a deaf character and a hearing character in a post-apocalyptic world where everythings in shambles. theyre not quite enemies to lovers, more like reluctantly working together and tolerating each others presence to friends to lovers. theyre in their early- mid 20s. theyre traveling long distances together but dont speak the same language. one only uses sign language and doesnt speak or read lips and the other doesnt know any sign language so they write in mud or sand any chance they get and when they take rests he teaches him the alphabet in sign and so they can eventually talk through spelling things out.

they do have names and i have a lot more details than that but im feeling very protective of them and dont wanna share too much lol. ive always had little ocs and stories in my head pretty much since i started reading regularly in high school. id take my favorite traits from multiple characters across like five different books and make my own little stories. its always just been a fun little thing to daydream though. ive never actually considered creating a story with it but when i thought of this one i just got so attached and now i fear im gonna have to actually create something because i cant stop thinking about them!!!!!

if i do, itll be in the form of a screenplay. i see it as a movie or miniseries, not a book. i got my degree in film and have taken screenwriting classes and feel way more comfortable writing in that format. i havent written anything yet though. i have like 10 scenes perfectly crafted in my brain but nothing on paper. i also will have to do lots of research on deaf culture and sign language! ive already bookmarked some sources and i follow some educational deaf youtubers that i plan on watching more of and taking notes. thats definitely the first step. ive just been too busy lately to really start but one day i hope she exists in the world. <3

[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Sleep Deprivation

Nami wasn’t stupid. She knew what it was like to lose a family member. She also knew how hard it was to fight to keep the family you have alive. So reading the newspaper about Ace, all she could think about was Luffy as a little boy sitting next to Ace. Because at the end of the day, he was just that. A little boy that just lost his family.

The worst part, they did this to him. They weren’t there for their captain. What was a crew supposed to do if not be there for your captain? And they failed him. They were too weak and were sent away. Then they were too weak to get back to him in time. In time to stop this. Or to be there for him. Luffy had done so much for them and they couldn’t do anything for him.

Nami stood up. That wouldn’t do. She would get back to him. She would make it so that he could fight again. He wouldn’t be alone in his time of need. Not like her. Not left to fester in the pain, and desperate to go back in time. Luffy wouldn’t end up like her.

No matter how she tried, there was no getting away from the sky island. No way down from here. She tried all the stairs and lifts, but nothing would let her get close to the ground. At some point, she was thinking of just jumping off the cloud and fighting her way through the White Sea. When she saw the next paper. Luffy stood there with a message on his arm. They were weak and couldn’t move forward. Not with how they were. Nami knew that already, after Moria. It was just real now. They didn’t have time to mess around; they had to get stronger.

“Please teach me.” She begged the weather people. They had so much control over the weather now, if anyone could make her the best in the world, it would be them. She would get stronger, and learn everything they could teach her and more. Nami would take Luffy anywhere in the world that he wanted to be. Not matter if the place existed before they got there or not.

It took time to gain their trust again. After trying to get away from the island so much. They didn’t quite let her out. Instead, giving her reading materials to learn form. Nami worked hard, burning the candles they gave her out. She read over 42 books in the first two weeks she was there. Writing reports and figuring out what they meant quickly.

“You are very smart.” One of them said. If this was before, Nami would have thanked him. Taking the praise for what it was. Now, though, it stung more. How smart was she that she wouldn’t keep her crew safe and find a way around the war lords? She couldn’t protect Cami either.

Nami smiled, not letting the thoughts leak to the people taking care of her. “Thank you. Can you help me with this? Please.” She said, charming them into helping her more.

They let her out after that. Soon realizing that Nami was working too much. They tried talking her into resting, but she would just ask them a question and they would end up sharing their research until late into the night.

The only thoughts Nami had other than what she was learning were Luffy and the others. She worried about Robin being alone again. About Usopp being scared somewhere. Zoro getting more lost. Sanji and his whole being. Franky was smart, but she hoped he landed somewhere with cola. Brook would be okay if he wasn’t alone. Then there was Luffy. When she thought of him, all she could see was the picture of him sitting there, Ace’s blood on his arms. Face broken into pain and disbelief. Shaking her head. She couldn’t think about it. If she did, it would just dig up all the feelings and anger from her past.

“Just wait for us, Luffy. We’ll be strong enough to protect you.” She muttered, taking a deep breath and studying again. She would not let the world government get away with this. Even if Luffy didn’t want revenge, she would not let them make her captain sad again. Luffy saved her, now she was going to save him.

Eventually, she found a copy of Marineford. She could see Luffy running around, see the marines fighting. But she couldn’t hear anything. Nami took out a notebook and began studying the marines. Making note of their forms and what admiral was weak to what. Paying close attention to Garp and Akinu. She would make sure they got just as much pain as they caused. She might not be the most petty of the Strawhats. That title was saved for Sanji. It didn’t mean she would forgive them. Luffy was too easygoing, leaving the real revenge for the others to complete. If someone needed to not get back up, they would send Zoro or Robin. If they needed to be made a fool of, it was Nami or Usopp. This time wasn’t going to be any different for them. Nami would dismantle them and make it all their fault without lifting a hand. She couldn’t wait to see the two men begging for forgiveness that Luffy was always too happy to give.

Nami studied and learned everything they had to offer. While using less of their floating tools so she had to get stronger. Remembering Zoro’s training, she used her staff to train. Swinging it down with force. The adding weights to it so that she could cause more problem for an enemy. No longer was there going to be a weak girl on the Strawhat crew.

Nami was talked into sleeping every day. They gained the upper hand when Nami looked up and the world was spinning around her. The words on the page were not sitting still. They she would learn more, giving her body a chance to rest. Nami did sleep, but it was the bare minimum swearing to sleep more once she becomes stronger. For now, that wasn’t going to happen.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Hello there!! So a few months ago probably at this point?? I sent you an ask that i Was reading your fic 1968 and just couldn't put it down, and how much i love it. I promised to let you know what i think of it when i finished it, and i am maybe ever so slightly late, but here I am.

Shortly after I sent that ask my personal life got really messy and long story short I was just not in the headspace to consume anything heavier than, idk, New Girl. It was a rough time.

I finally picked it up again yesterday and I was so so excited to read it. I feel like the fic was haunting me, i swear. I study education, and i was really really struggling with a big exam, and if i didn't love teaching as much as I do i might have just dropped out, honestly. Then, my friend recommended and lend me a book(i have yet to read it) that she had recently read in her book club: american wife, a book about a woman's life whose husband is running for president in the US (i in turn told her about this fic and sent her the link lol). And then i ahd to write a research paper about, broadly speaking, greek mythology in modern writing. A lovely haunting in time for spooky season lmao

Anyway, i picked it up, didn't put it down except to sleep or to eat and also to regularly scream about it into the void and cry, and finished it. Now I am writing this.

As i said, that exam was really difficult, and i was sat there considering alternative career paths because I felt so close to giving up. When i got to the part in the fic where Aegon and Io were discussing what they would like to do, how they both want to teach again, on the roof??? I'm telling you I started bawling. I shed a tear here and there already very regularly throughout the fic, but that part got to me in a way i can't fully articulate. But here i am the same age as Io hut i am in university studying education and i do get to be a teacher and yeah it's difficult sometimes but

Teaching is just so great man🥺🥺

Truly, your writing is incredible. It is so so good, so touching, so real. I cry easily when reading, but the way that got me is a testament to your skills as an author.

Now onto the actual plot!! I am writing a novel here i swear i am so sorry (but not really, its praise after all😂) this is gonna be jumbled and whatever i can think of in the moment and for that i AM sorry

I was feeling more invested in the elections in your Story than the actual current ones in the US (tho to be fair i'm not american). I was feeling so constantly torn between yeah i want Aemond to win, because politically, the other options are really bad, and wanting him to finally get assassinated because OH MY GODDDDDDD. THAT MANNNN.

Everytime i thought yeah it can't get worse it did!! I cant hate him any more, in fact I can!!! How did you manage to make him THAT dislikable???? Several times throughout the fic i had to just put it away for a moment becauss of how angry i got and also because i couldn't fully believe i was about to read what i was about to read.

On the other side of course we have Aegon and the helplessness that followed his and Io's relationshop tore at my heartstrings and my heart broke about a million times again and again and again.

Io's relationship with Cosmo😭😭😭😭 he is such a precious child and oh my godddd.

Now the Gang that is Mimi, Fosco and Ludowika. Three incredible Icons. I was aftually so shocked when mimi died. Like whatttt do you meannnn??? It makes sense, i guess, but i was still so surprised lol. Fosco and Ludowika are both great. Captains of the ship they were, especially Fosco, and i love them for it. Ludowika my eastern bloc representation <3 i hope she enjoys her gucci and gets to eat some polish food

Some random things: rhaenyra and aemma mention??? Viserys has to be a bad husband and father to the greens in every universe. Alicent and criston relationship???? Ohhhhh my god yes. Nate and rachel i really loved you for your brief appearances and i do feel sorry for you.

I think once the whole Story kinda... settles, i will think of so many more things to say, but for now i'm just gonna talk about the ending.

I didn't really know what to expect from it, but i was certainly very nervous and getting more and more nervous while i watched the Page count. But you managed to wrap the story up in such a satisfying way, that felt genuienly earned and real and it was a happy ending but it wasn't unrealistic or perfect, but that made it just all the better. I would have wished that aegon and Io would have gotten a happier end, obviously, and didn't have to suffer the way they did, but you didn't comrpomise the story for the happy end. It sucks, but it's real, and that made it all the better when they finally finally reunited. I did in fact cry again when Io got to put on heavy makeup and they both got to teach and cosmo greeted her in the school and i just🥺🥺🥺🥺

And on the other side we have Aemond and you managed to have him suffer at the end (as!he!should!!) and fall off his throne on olympus finally finally finally in such a satisfying way, without having the story end unhappily with him loosing the elections because despite all i wanted him to win the elections, kinda!

OH ALSO!! DAERON OH MY GOD??? For a moment i thought that was it for daeron like oh my goddddddd. Incredible. And then he went to aegon and tessarion is his rat and he kept her and oh my godddd.

Anyway. How long is too long for a Single ask? I dont want to know the word count of this. I could have left a comment this long under every single chapter probably but i was far too invested in the story to take a break.

I'm gonna take a break now and then go on your ao3 Profile and read my way through everything. Maybe look for something where aemond is a little less shitty lol, poor boy should redeem himself. I love your writing. It's well written, but it's also just so creative and something new and it's so cool. I also would love to be added to your taglist which my phone changed to Tagliatelle three times now. Than you for writing❤️❤️❤️ (And i am sorry for how long this got lol)

Firstly, I'm so sorry to hear you've been going through a tough time and I hope you're doing a lot better now, Collie my beloved!!! I've been a public school teacher for 5 years and so I definitely understand how stressful that profession can be, but also awesome at times! The way 1968 was haunting you during your hiatus is wild 😅😅

Secondly, I am so happy you enjoyed the series!!! Your message was not too long at all, it was WONDERFUL and I read it twice during my lunch break 😍 1968 was soooooo painful at times but I really appreciate you embracing the bittersweetness. The good news is that basically any fic is going to feature a nicer version of Aemond 😂 I would especially recommend Now I'm Covered In You.

Lastly, bestie I would love to add you to my tagliatelle! 🥰🍝

[thiefbird]

H j t for the ask game :)

H: How would you describe your writing style?

Hm... I'm going to answer both ways this question can be read, I think!

So in terms of how I tackle writing, I'd say I'm both incredibly straight forwards, and incredibly chaotic. For the most part, when I'm writing fanfic or original works(and even to some extent non-creative writing like analytical/argumentative essays or research papers), I come up with the basic idea of What Will Happen, and then I start at the beginning and write each chapter, from beginning to end, without planning it. This is widely considered to be A Bad Idea, for good reasons. I'm currently trying to teach myself to at least plan out the scene by writing it as a weird first draft of a screen play, with general action cues and dialogue but no description, and it is going relatively well, so far, but we shall see if it sticks! [I also write all my fanfic by hand and then either use my reMarkable to convert it into text, or copy it over by hand because I am Not A Reasonable Person]

In terms of how my writing, like, sounds, on the other hand, I am told I have a really good skill at aping other authors' styles, so I think perhaps my writing style is Chameleon? I am a heavily masking sort of person, entirely subconsciously, and said mask adapts very quickly to what I'm around to the point that it only takes about half an hour, these days, of exposure to have an undetectably false British or Irish accent - not always even the accent I'm surrounded by, but a slightly posh central English accent, and a blend of a Dublin and Galways Irish accent, because Oxford&Coventry and Galway&Dublin are the places I've spent the most time - and this happens in my writing! Whatever I'm absorbing the most of at that time will reflect itself in my word choices, and the cadence and rhythm of my sentences.

J: What’s your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written it?

I think my favourite when it's done well is soulmate AUs, because there are so many concepts to play with in them: how does it effect the culture of the world you're writing in? What happens if you fall in love with someone who isn't your soulmate? What if you have multiple soulmates? What if you just straight up don't have a soulmate?

I haven't written soulmate AU yet, but I have an idea for one both for the Aubreyad, and a DA:Awakening into DA2 idea that I may explore at some point - the DA one next time my brain circles back to Thedas in terms of special interest du jour; the Aubreyad idea is sitting on the back burner until I either run out of ideas for So long lives this, or need to take a break from it.

Also, honorable shout-out to HMD/daemon AUs. Love those things so much. I love giving characters A Little Guy and thinking about how they as a person would sublimate part of their soul out of their body, what animal it would be, and how they would interact with it. I have a very slightly started Hannigram HMD AU(a True HDM AU taking place in Lyra's World, even, though in North America not Oxford ofc), and a partially thought out Aubreyad daemon AU(I don't know enough about the history of Lyra's world to write historical fiction within it).

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

Hmm... I wouldn't say I can't stand it, but the thing I'm least likely to read is probably modern/coffeeshop/highschool/uni AUs, unless there is a compelling plot point mentioned in the summary, or I am familiar with the author. I don't always enjoy when the main themes of the original are gone unless there is an equally present driving force. They definitely can be done well, and I've certainly read ones that I was doubtful of at first that I really enjoyed, but for the most part that would be what I'm most wary of.

However, I do like AUs like this where they keep the driving force and change the circumstances. Modern Thedas with magic? Amazing, 10/10, I want to know how Isabela would text so bad. Hannigram AU where Will did something not at all FBI related, but he and Hannibal meet anyways and Hannibal is still a cannibal? Divine - they always will meet because they are entangled like atoms; Hannibal will always be Hannibal, and he will always be drawn to Will.

I think this is harder to do when there are less fantastical elements to the story; I have a harder time imagining a coffeeshop AU I would enjoy for the Aubreyad, for example, just because there are no longer tall ships or Napoleon to beat - and there are, in fact, not many modern AUs for the Aubreyad; there are a good deal more for Temeraire, because there are fantastical elements to Temeraire (dragons) that can be transferred over.

Thank you for the questions, @papercranesong and I hope you enjoyed my essay xD

[quinnharperwrites]

The Isles of Blirrosia: Chapter Two

Taglist: @anonymousfoz, @kaiarchives, @awleeofficial, and @immortaladrien

(Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Also, I found a proofreader!)

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

“Finally! A break!” a pale, redheaded girl exclaimed. 

“You’ve only had two classes so far,” Saffron said as she sat on the grass, careful not to sit on her magenta hair. “And don’t forget you have one more today, Lai!”

Lai practically threw herself on the ground. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m going to be so tense without you there! Sometimes, I wish we had the same aptitude.”

“We’re both manipulators—isn’t that enough?”

“Yeah, us and 11% of the grade!”

“That isn’t a lot…”

“But if you think about it, most of the other types manipulate too. Like, physiological aptitudes manipulate physiology. Science and technology aptitudes manipulate science and technology. See what I mean?”

Well, she certainly wasn’t wrong. “Okay, I admit it, you’re right. But you took your medication this morning, right?”

“I did, I did, don’t worry, Mom. You don’t have to check all the time,” Lai groaned. “But, while we’re on the topic, how was it this morning?”

“When the police files on the guy said that he was a Stardust Absrober, I got a bit excited. But after looking at previous altercations and fighting him myself? I think I have the right to be disappointed, Lai. However,” she folded her arms, “I wasn’t there for my own entertainment. What matters is that another criminal is where he belongs, so the city is one step closer to staying safe.”

Lai snickered when she said that. “That’s the spirit! Think of it like this, Saffy-Taffy! At least you got some more hands-on practice.”

“As if she needed it,” a new voice replied. Saffron turned to see her other friend, Zain Bolton, plop on the grass across from them. “Saffron, you get so many opportunities these days. And why are we sitting on the grass in the middle of winter?”

“Don’t look at me,” Saffron said, pointing to Lai, “It was all her idea.”

“And you agreed?!”

“Yes, she did! It’s better out here than indoors anyways.” The weather had somewhat improved from the morning. The sky was now clear, and because the sun was no longer obstructed, it was feeling more temperate. “I can feel my fire pumping through my veins!”

“Better for you, maybe. And you know your aptitude doesn’t work like that, right?”

“Of course, I do, Zain! Don’t act like such a know-it-all. That’s basic information. Speaking of, can you believe that Professor Blume actually gave us this project? As freshman? At the Rosia City University of Heroics, no less.”

“Wait, what project?”

“Oh wait, you weren’t there this morning. Zain you tell her.”

“Professor Blume gave us a history project–”

“She doesn’t even teach history!”

“Shut up, Lai. As I was saying, she gave us a history project about the Pre-Modern Eras.”

“Why would we even need a project about that?! Everyone with half a brain knows the story! We’ve been in school for over 13 years and–”

“Lai, let the man speak! I wanna know how much I have to suffer.”

“Thank you, Saffron,” Zain grinned. “Anyways, we at least were able to pick which era we wanted, but we have to write a 10-paged research paper and make a PowerPoint presentation.”

“Oh hell no. What is this, high school?” Professor Blume was nefarious for assigning projects that belonged in a high school (or maybe even a middle school) class. “Okay, what are the groups?”

“That’s the worst part!” Lai yelled. “There aren’t any! She said it was strictly individual!”

“I decided to go with the Uzarian Era,” Zain declared. “It’s a long period, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I’m going with the Acclimization Era. It’s only thirteen years long, so it’s an easy pass.”

“I guess that leaves me with the Readjustment Era.”

“What! Aren’t you gonna choose the same one as me?” Lai playfully whined. “We could make a pretty good team, Saffronator, don’t you think?”

“After what happened last time? No thanks. And how do you come up with all of these atrocious nicknames?”

“I’ll never tell! Anyways, you let me,” Lai smirked.

“Careful,” Saffron warned. “You’re starting to sound like a nuisance that I know all too well.”

“Oh dang. I forgot that fleabag was there with you.”

“What did he do this time, Saffron?” Zain asked.

“It certainly wasn’t as bad as it has been in the past, and it definitely wasn’t as bad as it 

could’ve been. He just asked me for coffee this time.”

“And you kicked him in the face, right?”

“Of course, she didn’t, Lai!” Zain scolded. “She obviously kicked him in the crotch.”

“I didn’t do either,” she sighed. “I said no and flew away.”

“I don’t know how you haven’t snapped at him, Saffron. I would’ve toasted him by now.”

“Yeah, and I would’ve used the remaining smoke to choke him. This guy has been harassing you nonstop since you turned eighteen. You don’t deserve this.”

“Well, I agree. But, if you did that, you both would’ve gotten a hefty fine. They might’ve even considered revoking your license.” 

“You’re right,” Zain sighed. “Not to mention, the public wouldn’t be too pleased.”

“I don’t know what they see in him if I’m being honest,” Lai started. “I mean, they treat him like an idol, at least some of them.”

It was no secret that Sensation was one of the most popular heroes ever. Definitely the most popular of their time, ever since Saffron’s parents retired.

“It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it,” Saffron replied.

“Actually, there is. Report him. You don’t owe him anything, Saffron,” Zain said firmly.

“It’s not worth it! He’s a beloved hero and a really good one, too. Blirrosia can’t afford to lose him.”

“It doesn’t matter! He keeps harassing you!” Zain retorted. “And he keeps getting into your dorm somehow. So now it’s not only you who’s suffering, but Mimi as well! Is that what she deserves? Is that what you deserve?”

“...”

“Okay, Zain. You’ve made your point. Getting heated won’t solve anything.”

“You know I’m right though.”

The trio fell silent. Zain’s smoky eyes bore into Saffron’s, staring into her soul. Eventually, she let her eyes drop to a patch of dandelion-speckled grass in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lai clench her jaw and cross her arms. She knew that the redhead hated conflict—it made her anxious. She was responsible for this, even if it was indirect. Just when she was about to respond, Zain sighed, before speaking again.

“Crap, I’m sorry, to both of you. I shouldn’t have escalated things like that.”

“No, you have a point. I just don’t see what I can do. And, not going to lie, this whole Matteo thing isn’t my biggest concern right now.” She stood up. “I have more important fish to fry.”

“I guess. I just worry for you sometimes Saffron. It seems like you’re always in the limelight, even when you don���t want to be.”

“Eh, I blame the parents,” Lai mused. “Before, it was Sabryna Solis this, Emil Solis that. Once they had kids, they practically declared the press as distant relatives.”

They all laughed. Trust Lai to make a joke to lighten the mood. “Ok,” Saffron started, “I’m going to head to my dorm, then I’ll start training early. I’ll see you two at dinner.”

“Yeah, I should get going too. I’m going to talk to Professor Zimmerman before class about my physical form. Bye,” Lai called out before walking off. 

“What about you, Zain?” Saffron asked. 

“I think I’ll stay out here a little longer. Soak up some sun.”

“What happened to you complaining about being outside?” she teased.

“No!” he protested, “I was complaining about sitting on the wet grass. Not about staying outside. Nice try, though.”

“Whatever you say, Zain. Whatever you say,” Saffron said before walking towards the dorms. “See you later!”

“Wait, Saffron!”

She paused mid-stride and turned back to face him. “Yeah?”

“I am truly sorry for being so harsh.”

“It’s fi–”

“No, it’s not. I was out of line.” He took a deep breath and looked at the sky for a moment, then made eye contact. “If…if you ever need me, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Saffron smiled. “You mean a lot to me. Lai, too.”

“You deserve the best,” he said. “Both of you! I’m glad that you can call me a friend,” he rushed.

Saffron didn’t know what to say to that. She and Lai have been best friends for as long as they can remember, but they only met Zain after their first year of high school. The heartfelt turn in the conversation surprised her, even the apology left her shocked—he wasn’t wrong.

“Me too. But, you don’t have to apologize.” He was about to contradict her, but she stopped him again. “Really, it’s fine. You were right. I should be more proactive.”

“Well, I’m glad you realized that, Saffron.”

“Yeah…I’ll see you around, Zain! Thanks again.”

“Don’t worry about it, Saffy. Goodbye!”

As she was walking back inside, she felt someone watching her, so she turned around and saw Zain still looking at her; she waved and he waved back before quickly turning away. She chuckled to herself, turned back, and kept going on her way. But for some reason, the feeling didn’t subside.

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

[cxffeeink]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ how to break the curve : a guide ♡

--- the matter of breaking your teachers, first ---

( I dedicate this blog entry to my cousin, who is in the 9th grade )

Tuesday, January 9, 2024

My classmates are shocked. They are shocked because right now I am typing away on a laptop instead of working like the rest of them, as they get to spend an entire period doing a seatwork I wish I was able to take. Actually, that is a lie. There is so much to do this week I'm glad that one thing was taken off my schedule because-- truth be told-- I don't think I would have been able to handle one more assessment (we just had two).

♡ •---------• ♡

The very next day, I was exempted from our philosophy quiz, as well. Anyway !! Welcome to the short and quick guide on : how to break the curve !! I know it's been a week since I've last written, but so much has happened I don't even know where to begin--- I've just taken an entrance exam that's going to change the trajectory of my entire future, and last week I was working on so many things left and right. Anyway, let's get on to the guide!

Try not to focus too much on actually breaking the curve. Focus on making a great impression ✩

I feel like something that really contributed to how well I did in regard to my written requirements in school + my favorite subjects ( Philosophy, Values, English ) was the fact that I simply wanted to make a good first impression--- especially when classes had just begun. When it came to my favorite subjects, I asked questions, I spoke. At the end of the first quarter I had asked for good philosophical book recommendations--- next thing I knew I was talking to three other girls and the fact that we were chosen to teach sessions on the feminist philosophy, on the book The Second Sex by De Beauvoire.

Try to excel at what you know you're good at. ✩

For instance, I love writing. I've kept notebooks and pens in my drawers since I was nine and wanted to try journalling for the first time, chronicling every moment of my day and trying to find different ways to portray different things. If you know you do well in sports or debate or arithmetic, try concentrating on your strengths !!

Instead of thinking of exceeding the expectations of others, try to exceed your own. I like thinking I am my own competition. ✩

I like picking apart the things I've worked on before, looking at each and every part of it and wondering how I can do better than I've done before. I don't like thinking I've done my "best," at least in some instances, because it feels as if there's no more room for improvement when there always is. Challenge yourself, but not in a way that's unhealthy !!

Consider what your teachers look for // want to see in the requirements they receive, the standards they set for their students. Then transcend their ideals. ✩ Back in August of last year, when classes were just beginning, I listened to my values teacher explain what he wanted to find in the papers we passed in. He'd said his standards were higher than most, and that he took the time to recheck each and every one of our papers with keen observation, despite there being at least thirty children in each class he taught.

Then I heeded to whatever our philosophy teacher said about our requirements, how he would consider them no matter how lengthy they were or how short they ended up being, so long as they made sense. I weighed the factors, I considered the work I could pass in. I made sure that the first paper I passed in for Values was better than what I usually wrote, the pinnacle of anything I wrote for school--- in Philosophy I did my research, I read through articles on things like optimistic nihilism and the nature of our existence--- concepts like absurdism and phenomenology and all that. I made sure the first homework I passed in--- a poem about a philosophical query we were captivated by--- hit all the right spots, made all the right points.

( long story short, a few days later that same Philosophy teacher sent an email to the class assistant, asking what the heck was wrong with me--- he cried twice reading the poem apparently )

Don't brag / let it get to your head ! Cherish the moment ( e.g. the time I read the aformentioned poem that moved a lot of people to tears in class ) and go with grace. ✩

If there's one thing I tend to think too much about, it's whether other people think I'm full of myself or not. I don't think I'm the best person to ever write in the whole school, but I can't deny the fact that I am someone who loves poetry and loves reading and writing and doing my best for the subjects I really, really like. I also can't deny the work that goes into everything I write, how sometimes it seems to come naturally and other times it just doesn't. I also won't deny the fact that I mess up, too--- maths clearly isn't my best subject, chemistry can be a pain, and sometimes I end up making grammatical errors humiliating enough to send me flying into the stratosphere. I know that there will always be someone else who can do better or who knows better, and that's okay ! I feel like everything I do can always be improved--- I suppose that's one reason why Heraclitus's philosophies stuck with me, considering the fact that the only unchanging thing is change.

The point of this whole post? Focus on your strengths. Be humble. Consider the quality of your work, consider your health--- truth be told, I didn't even mean to break the curve. The second caption of this post, "the matter of breaking your teachers first," has to do with blowing their standards out of proportion and exceeding their expectations after flying above your own. You've got this !! I'm proud of you !!

So here's me, Abby, signing off---

You're doing great, whether or not you've broken the curve. All the best,

Abby *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[margridarnauds]

1. 6. and 12. please!

Thank you!

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

I touched on it a little here, but I feel like I really leant more into the surreal. Which kind of naturally works with my writing style and my influences and is definitely something I'm wanting to pursue. I was actually influenced a lot by what I've seen you do when it comes to fanfic, as well as by what I've seen the Chinese fandom, as a whole do, where you have these character studies where the style is deliberately rich and a little-bit offputting as a way of exploring the darker edges of a character or characters. While I don't think the horror of The Midnight Mass ever landed like I wanted it to, it marked a point of experimentation that I've never gotten to do, and I'm definitely interested in doing more things in that style.

6. What ship(s) captured your heart?

As far as NEW ships, Benvolio/Escalus from RetJ was definitely unexpected. I'm in and out of RetJ as a fandom -- I wouldn't say I'm actively involved, but I keep an eye on it, especially as a mod for the French musicals Tumblr, which made it even more unexpected. I feel like I could still do a lot more with them, even though I've put most of my plans on hold in favor of the TRUE darkhorse candidate, Raphael/Tav from Baldur's Gate 3. Which, on one hand, it isn't AS much of a darkhorse, since Raphael is ridiculously my type (I mean, my taste in fictional men is already rancid enough that a devil seemed like the natural conclusion), but was still unexpected because I truly came in expecting to romance Astarion. I have about 12k words of fic written across 4-5 WIPs, so it's safe to say that we're really only getting off the ground.

12. What fic was the most difficult to write? Did you finish it?

As I touched on in my other answer, this year was the sort of year where EVERY fic was difficult to write, because of the sheer number of responsibilities that I had tacked on. I had a massive test that would decide whether I stayed in my program (I passed), my first paper published, several back to back conference presentations, a month spent abroad in Ireland (my beloved) sharpening up my language skills, hosting and organizing events, teaching, and my participation in several different projects and organizations. It was a LOT, and it left very little time to be a human being in-between.

But...I would say that writing fanfic for BG3 and RetJ, in general, is very much a struggle for me. Because I know the 18th century relatively well, or at least well enough to conjure up an image of the 18th century. And if I don't know, I can do research. When I was doing work for an AFO fic (not published....yet), I could look up the memoirs of the people involved and take from them as much or as little as I wanted (since it was AFO, I opted for "as little").

But for the Toho RetJ, you're having to more or less create a dystopian society based on staging hints we get from the musical, and so I was constantly having to drop in details from hypotheticals. Like "What would the world look like in a century or two if a nuclear bomb went off tomorrow?" "How would we rebuild? What are some ways the world would be the same and what are some of the ways it would be different?" These are things that people are asking, but we really don't KNOW. And so in many ways, I'm having to build Post-Apocalypse Verona from the ground up while also trying to drop in cultural details -- this isn't American Post-Apocalypse Verona, this is *Italian* Post-Apocalypse Verona. Things like Venice sinking into the sea *have* to have some kind of impact on how people are sourcing food, for instance, or conducting trade. And since Escalus is The Prince™, I can't even wave some of it off, because these are things he is very intensely interested in and involved in.

BG3 is almost the reverse, where you are contending with forty years of lore, spread out across player handbooks, multiple series of novels, comics, trading cards, etc. etc. almost all of which some people care very, very intensely about while the rest homebrew it and toss it out. There's a lot of material that either isn't explored *at all* or is under-explained, but there's a LOT that's been explored in 40 years, and it's always a matter of seeing what I CAN bend or even break and what I can't. And, unfortunately, the two areas of the lore that I got most intensely attached to are (1) the Drow and (2) the Devils, aka two areas that have a lot of complex lore around them, so I'm reading multiple books from multiple editions to see what I can make stick. (On the record, I'm tossing out a solid 70-80% of the lore around Drow because it was very clearly written by nerd men who hate women.) My goal is always to try to bend the lore around the fic in a way that still honors the fact that people are fundamentally people and behave fundamentally like people.

For the Toho RetJ, I finished two fics for it -- I have snippets of more written, but I did finish the two fics I really wanted to make. For BG3...God knows when I'll have the lore wrangled enough for it.

[whentherewerebicycles]

omg just had SUCH a good talk with that former older student of mine about how to get transfer students involved in research + what he thinks four-year faculty should know about students who are making the transition from community colleges. it was just so, SO interesting!! the basic takeaways were:

mentorship, mentorship, mentorship. his view was basically that no single factor matters more in determining a student’s trajectory in college & likelihood of graduating than mentorship. he was able to name five different mentors he had at different stages in his CC/four year college/grad school career, all of whom built a relationship with him and took the time to learn a great deal about how he thought and what he was interested in and where he wanted to go, and then provided him with extra guidance, feedback, and structured support to help him advance towards those long-term goals.

but also: mentors may need to more explicitly name what they’re doing—like, he had a fantastic CC mentor who hired him as a TA and got him involved as a paid member of this committee that was redesigning the school’s core curriculum and helped him network with other faculty… and my student said it wasn’t until years down the road that he realized the professor wasn’t finding him extra jobs just to help him make more money, he was actually working to acclimate him to & familiarize himself with the cultures and norms of higher ed, and helping him hone his skills in talking to faculty and administrators about his interests and his long-term goals and so on. that was very interesting!

CC students are less likely to know that talking to faculty, sharing their goals with advisors, taking advantage of professional development offerings, and seeking out extracurricular opportunities tied to their academic/professional interests is actually a really important part of being in college. he said he was totally focused on getting all A’s and thought that was all he needed to do until a professor took him aside and was like “you HAVE to network, you have to apply for these other things, you’re too smart to just do your work and go home and not take advantage of everything that’s available to you here.” he also said that you can’t just give CC transfer students information—you also often have to understand and correct the misinformation or mistaken assumptions they’re coming into the institution with.

students aren’t going to get hooked on research via research papers lol. he was like you CAN get them to the point where they actually legitimately want to write research papers because they’re that fascinated by the questions they’re asking. but you have to get them to discover and fall in love with their questions first. so he was advocating for starting with community-engaged research or applied research or creative projects that are grounded in research but work on other levels too, and using those kinds of things to get students thinking about the kinds of questions they could be asking, and then slowly introducing formal research tools and building up their understanding of the methods that researchers in different fields use to answer big questions and so on.

he said he thinks a big challenge for CC students who are considering transferring to four-year colleges is all the mixed messages they get about their abilities or aptitude for college. he was like, “you can be a smart, capable student but you’ll be sitting in a class where the professor’s talking to you and teaching the course like it’s a remedial class, and it can really get in your head, because they’re a professor and maybe they know more than you do about what level you can perform at. and then maybe you’ll go to the next class where you have a great professor who encourages you, but in the back of your mind you’re like, what kind of student am I? am I the remedial student or the student who could get my bachelor’s degree?” idk just so interesting always to think about how much influence faculty attitudes can have on students’ own self-perception

much to think about!!! I have more in my notes I just gotta sit with it for a bit and do some more thinking about how I want to talk about it in the campus visit.

[daz4i]

while ratio being Just Some Guy is most likely the case and fits him narratively, i do love the hc/theory that he's not quite human (either smth supernatural or just a different humanoid species. tho i obviously enjoy the first one more)

1. there's smth abt a character constantly reminding you, the viewer, that they are one thing only to be revealed as the opposite. so like him constantly reminding you that he's just a regular mundane human with nothing special about him can come off as sus

1a. i will say tho. playing it straight and not revealing anything ever beyond showing that he's just an extremely weird and eccentric human is funny

1b. that being said!!! my favorite take on that is that he's not human but wants to be one so bad bc he loves humanity. bc that's so cute and another trope i love. that's why i don't like theories abt him *becoming* not human bc it seems even more antithetical to who he is as a character

2. it'll explain some weird little details abt him that don't quite make sense for a normal human. bc like. i get that he's very smart but on a practical level, achieving the things he has should be impossible in what is likely a short time frame

2a. most recent example i can think of is him sending tb a file that takes "just one amber era" to read, which, from what i gathered, is about couple of years. so he compiled all this information while also working on the divergent universe while on a mission in penacony. and if these first 2 things took him a few years then he did them while developing weapons and curing space cancer and writing whatever he did to get him his phds (so like, a few book-length theses probably) which was probably already a few years ago by the time we meet him, and he's supposedly very young for someone with his achievements so probably in his early 30s at most. idk how to find this post rn but someone calculated that he has either been teaching for 10 or more years by now (which. let me remind you. he started *after* getting his 8th phd) or that he taught like. an insane amount of courses every year to reach the number he did. supposedly while also working for the guild + developing all these aforementioned things + doing his own research like what he's been doing on the space station. does he ever sleep. how is he in such a good shape and able to preach about health when it's like physically impossible to do all that within such a short timespan. even if you've got a genius brain like that's just too much going on at once

2b. sorry that last point was so long. this one is shorter bc it's abt smaller examples, like him disappearing abnormally fast while talking with aventurine, or this little fourth wall break of him referring to himself as a supporting character. floating on some invisible chair might be an imaginary powers thingie so i'll let that slide but he's on thin ice

2c. all the little implications that he's old. like OLD old. his recommendation letter being described as yellowed paper. that one occurrence in gold and gears that mentions him, despite occuring around 2000 years ago

3. why do his eyes glow. why are his pupils cat-like. i get that it's for aesthetic reasons probably but it's still goddamn weird especially the pupils bc iirc there is at least SOME explanation for why other hsr characters have weird eyes, but nothing about him.

(i totally used this numbering format wrong huh. forgive me it is 2 am i'm typing this bc i couldn't sleep. btw while i'm at it lemme apologize for all the grammar errors and missing words and such that are all totally there only bc of how tired i am and no other reason whatsoever)

there are, however, contradictions to the theory of course

as already mentioned, it kinda goes against his Point as a character in the story. like he SHOULD be normal that's why he's the foil for the geniuses

speaking of. if he is something beyond human, why seek the recognition of nous? if he's some powerful and possibly immortal being, why would that matter for him enough to try?

there's probably more i'm forgetting now but lbr it's mostly that first point lol.

ok so establishing all that. what even IS he?

option 1: immortal, over 2000 years old

boring. i don't like it. but i gotta acknowledge it bc as things stand it's probably the most likely one...? (other than him being Just Some Guy lol)

so there's everything i mentioned abt his achievements not making any sense in the timeframe he was likely alive, as well as the intelligentsia guild occurrence that mentions him

i don't like it bc it kind of implies that his main achievements were coined thousands of years ago. iirc he was invited to the guild *after* he achieved those. so did he only teach 50ish classes and didn't get any more phds over the span of 2000 years?? (it's possible we just don't have that information but. given how abnormally exceptional he is. why leave his other work out? he already doesn't seem humanly possible so. what's the harm in going further? will add a comedic effect to it too at some point)

also it's basic. boo

option 2: aha emanator

worm theory go brrr (i can't embed the link on mobile unfortunately but i can dm it or leave it in the replies if anyone needs it 🫡)

worm stuff aside tho. the fourth wall break and things just generally being Weird and so damn silly about him. his bust can count as a mask. aha having an owl symbol on the same side as the shoulder he has his owl symbol on. his eyes having aha's color scheme. we don't know quite what powers aha gives their followers afaik, but like the disappearing quickly thing is smth sampo does too, for example, and we know that he's a follower of aha. so who's to say all the other weird things about him are aha's work too?

there's the question on if he is like, an unwilling emanator that aha forced powers onto, or that possibly he is like zhongshan and just pulling an insane bluff

(given that the only times we see him sow chaos it is for a very clear purpose that has nothing to do with joy, i lean more towards the first)

also he embodies elation for me bc every time i see him i'm elated. is this anything

option 3: literally anything else man idk the hsr universe is so big every 2 patches we get a whole new faction or planet mentioned so who knows what else can be out there

possibly making him just go. very fast. he has lived [insert normal amount of years] but experienced much more in them than a normal human would

possibly having some powers like. fuck idk man. freezing time?

possibly able to split himself into multiple beings? (would certainly add a layer to his statues and especially the way they were presented in his trailer)

option 4: stealing that one straight from my fav fic actually (once again can't embed a link but it's "what do you want" by The_smallest_chibi on ao3!) but also altering it a little. something happened that caused him to *lose* his humanity, but he is trying to cling back to it. so he's possibly only slightly older than he seems but like this allows him to do things normal humans can't or go through life without needing things that normal people might, like food sleep etc.

i don't think it's very likely for the actual game i just wanted to tell you to go read this fic it's really good 👍

this is all i have for you now. i might repost (and this time tag) this later in a more organized and hopefully less rambling way with all necessary links and screenshots maybe. but don't count on that too much :P

[roxirinart]

@matcha-x-matcha Hi!! I saw you asking for my explanation on why I think Ratio would be a crow if he were an animal, but there’s an annoyingly short character limit for replies, so I’m writing this as a reblog instead lol. But yeah, here we go! This is LONG so forgive me, I hope you don't regret asking hahah XD My Official and Very Serious Research Paper on Why Our Beloved Dr. Ratio Would Be a Crow and Not An Owl, if He Was Suddenly and Inexplicably Turned Into an Animal:

Intelligence

Owls are typically known as ‘wise’ birds, and a group of them is called a ‘parliament’. They are usually solitary animals. I think this is very reminiscent of the Genius Society and how they operate: revered as (wise) Geniuses by wider society, keeping to themselves and rarely interacting with either the public or each other (like how owls fly silently and are nocturnal, meaning they're naturally separated from us diurnal humans). Additionally, in nature, crows and owls do show a significant rivalry with each other, as owls eat crow fledglings (and sometimes adults too), and crows will mob owls in return.

Crows are also very intelligent (considered on at least the same level as parrots, and in some cases more so!), far more intelligent than owls, which are comparatively dumb. Although I don’t think this is necessarily a perfect comparison in this case, since there’s no doubt that the geniuses in the society are called that for a reason, but clearly Ratio is incredibly smart himself (which makes it all the more interesting and mystifying as to why Nous hasn’t recognized him…).

Mythology

In Greek mythology (which is very clearly one of Ratio's defining aesthetic - and to a lesser extent, characteristic - motifs), crows are most closely associated with the god Apollo, who is (amongst other thing), said to represent prophecy, truth, healing, and disease. Pretty fitting, I think! Especially since Veritas (considered Ratio's first name) literally means 'truth'. Additionally, Nous is also closely associated with prophecy - Fu Xuan directly received the power to see into the future from Nous. The 'disease' part of Apollo's associated traits correlates with Ratio likening ignorance to 'a disease that must be cured.'

As a further point in the crow analogy's favour, the most prominent Greek mythological story about crows is of a young woman named 'Corone' (meaning 'crow'), who was saved from being assaulted by Poseidon by Athena, Apollo's sister. Athena is most commonly associated with owls, and her domains include wisdom amongst others. Athena saved Corone by turning her into a crow. Later, Corone speaks of her resentment that the owl had usurped Corone's position as Athena's bird-servant (we could loosely draw a comparison between this and how the Genius Society have Nous's approval, but not Ratio).

Aesthetic

This is a little less solid than my other reasons, but it works!

Crows can have a purplish sheen to their feathers, which... well. Purple hair. Dunno what else to say hahah XD Certainly an influencing factor when I was drawing him. Additionally, crows like shiny things! So his shiny golden laurel checks out in that regard design-wise as well :)

(Plus that's a fun little bonus for any fans of the Ratiorine/Aventio ship, because Aventurine, too, is very shiny :P)

Back to Greek mythology a little bit, Apollo is regarded as the most beautiful god, and I think it says something that Ratio's character intro specifically says he's handsome.

Socialization

Unlike owls, crows are social birds, living in flocks where they will actively take care of the crows that are injured or sick. I feel like this resonates a lot more with Ratio actively sharing his knowledge with others, teaching an impressive 52 courses across his time lecturing at Veritas Prime university, and also his role as a doctor, taking care of those both physically and mentally less capable. Crows will actively teach other crows and relay information to them - a very cool study was conducted where people wearing uniquely recognizable masks would behave aggressively towards a group of crows over a period of time - not long after, all crows in the area were avoiding these people, and it’s theorized that they had actually communicated with other crows that they should stay away from the masked individuals (they have facial recognition, which is really cool).

I chose crows over other corvids moreso from an aesthetic standpoint than anything else, but I think that it’s also a point in crows’ favour that they’re the slightly more social of the two, since despite Ratio NOT being perceived as a social person (I would say), he does actively engage in the community around him (off-screen) to aim for the betterment of society (and has worked on MANY projects that have saved countless lives). Not that ravens (or other corvids) don’t gather in flocks; it’s just that crows are usually found living in and around human society more than other corvid species (I say this as someone who loves animals but is in no way an expert, so corvid experts forgive me if I’m wrong lol).

So…. Yeah! That’s the reasoning! Hope you enjoyed! Or at least didn't pass out from boredom X') I'm passionate about the niche art of choosing fursonas for fictional characters purely for fun apparently.

Dr. Ratio? More like Dr. Rati-CROW, amirite? 😜