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@harmione-fanatic
Her Mess 😤
Hermione: Honestly, Harry...
Harry: are you upset?
Hermione: I can't believe you don't know how to tie a simple tie knot. It's embarrassing!
Harry: but you can always fix everything, right?
Hermione: You're a mess...
Harry: But I'm your mess.
just realised the most important one didn't attach to the last post
You are a villain famous for “killing” heroes. In reality, heroes come to you to fake their deaths.
Sometimes they try to pay you.
You are posted out by the Hollywood sign tonight, sitting under the frame where the W used to be. It got burnt to a crisp during last week’s big superhero fight. A hero died right where you’re sitting. The whole area’s been closed down until Hero Force can coordinate a recovery effort. Usually it’d be done by now but no one’s willing to touch it until the ash has been completely blown away.
It’s a rule that the world must stand still when a hero dies.
“How much?”
The voice comes from behind you. The lights that illuminate the Hollywood sign are down to hide as much of the scorch marks as possible. You wouldn’t be able to see anything even if you did turn around, so you don’t.
You put some chapstick on, the glide of the balm against your wind chapped lips grounding.
“I said,” the Hero says, voice tightening, “How. Much.”
There’s the sound of gravel crunching now. They’re wearing heavy boots and the scent of fresh blood grows stronger the closer they get. Their breathing is smooth and even which means it’s not their blood.
You put the cap back on your chapstick and tuck it into your leather jacket’s inner pocket. “I don’t take money.”
“Then what do you take?” The Hero rounds the Y and comes into your line of sight. The dark hides most of their features, but you can make out a glittering gold mask and the dull shine of drying blood on their chest plate. Their breathing may be even, but their stance isn’t. They sway in place, back and forth, back and forth. Their arms wrap around their stomach. “I’ve got land. A house. You can have it.”
Keep reading
Jane and Ellie
Alright, I can’t stop staring at this! The amazing @oneofthesirens made with midjourney!
Meet two of the children from my WIP Maybe Tomorrow. I think it’s pretty obvious who their parents are just by looking at them haha.
Jane is six and Ellie is three.
Harry checked in that the girls were playing without fighting. He found them deconstructing the living room sofa to build a fortress and they warned him of the Grindylows and sharks that apparently hid in the invisible moat at the edge of the room.
He grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll summon my broom.”
“You’ll have to watch for the dragons still,” Ellie told him seriously as she popped out from behind the cushioned wall.
Jane nodded sagely, spreading a faded gold and red quilt over the armrest. “She’s right…and the aeroplanes.”
I was hoping to do a better job of presenting this AU, but life is against me. So, messy sketch of Dragon!Ron, Kneazle!Hermione and Basilisk!Harry (my dear).
Magic works in numbers, but sometimes numbers can be used against Magic. When T. M. Riddle did so (Seven against all that is pure), Magic retaliated. She found Three to defy him. Three to restore balance. And they were almost ready.
They just needed to be different.
Being bitten by a Norwegian Ridgeback, morphed by a Kneazle's DNA and infected with Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears can be just what they needed. Side effects, sadly, weren't anticipated.
Hermione, for example, could have never believed she would be the heat-pillow of two cold-blooded bastards. Literally. Thankfully Ron—much to his chagrin—could use the flames of the fireplace instead of her fur.
Which was good for her, because she would rather hug Harry.
Not that she would ever tell him, of course.
I need someone to write this.
♡ All along it was You
Harry x Hermione, only, they developed a relationship in year 6 when Ginny and Ron started dating other people
prompts: ○what would help right now? ○Just... hold my hand. ○Do you always look at me like that?
Part 1/?
●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●
"What does it feel like, when you see Ginny with Dean?" Hermione had asked him through her tears.
At first, he wanted to deny it. But she knew. And she'd know he was lying, because she always did. She's his best friend, and vice versa, and they practically know each other inside out.
After chasing away Ron, and she sat back down, she curled into his side, holding onto his arm and laying her head on his shoulder. In turn, he'd laid his head atop hers, and held her hands.
"It feels like this." He'd answered softly.
~
Even now, as he lay awake in bed, he didn't know how long they sat in that stairwell, silently comforting each other.
Ron couldn't stop talking about Lavender, but for the most part, Harry tuned him out.
He wasn't trying to be rude, but after sitting with a crying Hermione while he comforted her over Ron, he didn't really want to hear about what happened after he and Lavender left. Ron stopped talking about Ginny's relationship with Dean at least, and for that, he was grateful.
Harry sighed as he rolled over onto his side, trying to find the fatigue he knew he felt to try and fall asleep, but his thoughts just kept circling. He wanted to slap himself for saying Ginny had nice skin, because honestly, who compliments someone's skin?
"Hermione has nice skin." Ron's words echoed in his head.
She did have nice skin, he supposed. He liked how her skin glowed in the sunlight, or how her cheeks flushed a rosey pink when she smiles or laughs. But, honestly, he doesn't pay too much attention to that sort of thing with Hermione.
But, now that he thought about it, Hermione is quite beautiful. He thought so even when Rita Skeeter called her "plain looking". He's always seen Hermione as beautiful. But, up until maybe twenty minutes ago when he started over analyzing things, it'd merely been an observation. He thought everyone saw Hermione as beautiful, because quite frankly, he couldn't see her any other way.
And, sure, Ginny's beautiful. She has an infectious smile and a warm laugh. And her personality is wonderfully sweet. Her hair looks golden when the light catches it just right, and the freckles splashed across her cheeks remind him of dewdrops on a flower petal.
But Hermione is his best friend. So why has he noticed the way her hair also glows in the golden hour sun? Or the way her brown eyes are so comforting and remind him of a warm hearth? And she always has the best hugs. She always makes him feel so safe, and never makes him feel judged. She understands him better than anyone else in the entire world does, or ever has.
He huffed, frustrated that he couldn't turn his brain off. Or maybe it was the fact that he's just now noticing how beautiful Hermione is. Either way, he threw his covers off, opting to head down to the common room, hoping a change of scenery would make him feel less antsy.
He slowly crept out, quietly shutting the heavy wooden door behind him.
As he descended the stairs, he heard the faint crackling of the fireplace. Curious, he slowly crept down.
He saw Hermione, sitting in front of the fire in her pj's, loosely wrapped in one of her soft throw blankets.
He wordlessly rounded the couch, slowly getting on the floor to sit next to her. Silently, she leaned on his shoulder like she had earlier that day, and just like earlier, he silently leaned his head against hers.
"What would make it better?" He asked softly, already knowing she's still hurting. It wasn't just the fact that she's being uncharacteristically quiet, but he's still hurting too.
"Just... hold my hand. Please." She responded quietly.
He slipped his hand into hers, and she intertwined their fingers. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply before sighing. Despite the heartache they felt, they felt content basking in the each others company. They didn't say anything else, just sat and watched the flames as they burned and slowly lost their spark.
~
The following morning at breakfast, instead of Harry sitting next to Ron, or Hermione sitting next to Ron, they sat next to each other. Oddly enough, it was out of the ordinary, so much so that Neville and Seamus immediately noticed. Neither of them said anything, though.
The two ate silently, nodding or answering in short answers when talked to.
"Aye, what's got you two in a mood? Lose sleep last night?" Seamus teased.
"Something like that." Harry responded, ignoring the insinuation.
Seamus was a little taken aback by the vague honesty, because normally they'd get flustered when teased about any activity done alone, especially when someone insinuated that they'd done something like that. Because both Harry and Hermione knew what Seamus was talking about when he said that. But they didn't react, just ate their food.
"Seriously, are you alright?" Seamus asked, genuinely concerned.
"Just didn't sleep well." Hermione answered.
Ron and Lavender, with her abnoxious giggling, caught everyone else's attention, thus saving them from any more interrogation.
Ron and Lavender sat across from Harry and Hermione, yet remained oblivious to their moods. Neville shot them a sympathetic smile, but they just waved him off with rather unconvincing attempts at reassuring smiles.
The two starting rambling about something or another, Harry didn't care enough to pay attention.
He was happy for his best mate, truly. But did he have to hurt Hermione in the process?
And sure, he was happy for Ginny, too. Despite wishing he was the one to make her happy, he was glad that she was either way.
He felt Hermione bump her knee against his gently under the table, and looked up at her curiously. She simply nodded her head towards where Ron and Lavender sat across from them.
Harry looked to the two to find that they were looking at him, a mix of confusion and concern.
"We asked if you were alright, Harry?" Lavender asked, not a hint of condescension or anything other than slight concern in her voice.
"Mhm. Fine. Why?" He replied simply.
"You two are just really quiet." Ron said.
"We were just up late last night reading over some assignments." Hermione answered.
Ron and Lavender were apprehensive about their answer, but accepted it and moved on anyway.
Harry looked to Hermione, silently checking up on her, and saw she was looking down at her plate. One hand was on her lap under the table, so discretely, he took her hand in his and intertwined their fingers, hoping it would bring her comfort like it did the night before.
She smiled to herself, a genuine smile at Harry's sweet gesture. She gently squeezed his hand to let him know she appreciated it, and like always, he read her perfectly.
The two resumed eating with the hands they had on the table, not letting on that anything was going on.
Seamus, who had been watching them curiously, eventually noticed that each of them was only using one hand. He nudged Neville, and inconspicuously nodded to the pair. He watched with furrowed brows, then looked back at Seamus and shrugged.
No one mentioned it.
~
The following night, well past curfew, Hermione sat in the common room on the sofa curled up with a book. The fire crackled softly, offering a peaceful background noise and allowing her to relax. As well as she could with Lavender lurking on the steps.
Hermione could tell, from the way Lavender kept fidgeting and shuffling and exhaling deeply, that the girl was nervous. She figured there was probably something she wanted to get out into the open. And Hermione knew that she herself sometimes needed time to gain the courage to approach someone with something, especially when it made her nervous, so despite her distaste for the girl she didn't say anything and let Lavender steel herself.
Hermione sighed, realizing she lost her place in her book. She put her bookmark in and sat the book on the coffee table. She leaned back and pulled her throw blanket up around her, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears.
Lavender whispered words of encouragement softly to herself, silently reminding herself to breathe. "It's just Hermione. She's not cruel or rude. Ron wouldn't be friends with her if she was." She whispered. She noticed Hermione wasn't reading anymore, that she was staring at the fire and petting her tabby cat. "Now or never..." She whispered softly, and stepped off the bottom stair.
Lavender cleared her throat softly, more to ready her voice than to get Hermione's attention, but it worked as both anyway. Hermione turned to look at her, a soft smile on her face. It served to encourage Lavender more knowing Hermione wasn't annoyed by her presence.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Lavender asked nervously.
"Sure." Hermione responded kindly, sitting up and making room for Lavender on the sofa.
"Thanks." Lavender said, sitting down at the far end. She wasn't stupid, she knew Hermione didn't particularly like her. And it didn't bother her much before. But now she was dating one of Hermione's best friends, and she wanted her to at the very least tolerate her.
"I know you had a crush on Ron before I asked him out." She said, deciding to cut to the chase.
"Oh." Hermione said, reeling back a bit. "I didn't expect you to confront it head on." Hermione said shocked.
"I'm sorry, you're right, I should've lead in a bit or something." Lavender said, chuckling nervously.
"Oh, on the contrary, I hate it when people beat about the bush." Hermione said honestly. "I'd much rather get to the point quickly. Especially if something is causing a bother." She said knowingly.
"Right. I just don't like that you don't like me." Lavender responded, finally gaining the confidence to look at Hermione.
Hermione looked confused. "Why?" She asked, genuinely curious. She made sure there was no ill emotion in her tone.
"Well, you're one of Ron's best friends. I mean, everyone knows that. And I could handle anyone else not liking me, because I honestly don't care that much. But you mean a lot to Ron, and as such, it means a lot to me that you like me." Lavender said.
Hermione sighed. "It's not that I don't like you. I don't like a lot of people. I know that I'm an acquired taste and that a lot of people wouldn't like me, so maybe subconsciously I just choose not to like them first." She said. "It's something Harry's helping me work on." She chuckled.
"I like you." Lavender offered.
Hermione looked at her, surprised and slightly confused. "Really?" She asked disbelieving.
Lavender nodded. "I've always admired your drive and passion for learning. It used to annoy me and I used to think you were a know-it-all, but as we've gotten older I've recognized it as jealousy that I don't know as much as you do." She said honestly.
Hermione looked down at her lap. "That's why I don't have a lot of friends. Because people don't like that I'm a know-it-all." She said.
"I just think people don't share your thoughts and interests." Lavender said.
Hermione smiled at her. "Thank you."
"I know you know that isn't what I wanted to talk about. So thank you for being kind and patient." Lavender said.
Hermione nodded, smiling and silently encouraging her.
"I honestly didn't think Ron would say yes when I asked him out. I'd just had a crush on him for a long time, and wanted to get the rejection over with. I honestly thought he liked you too." Lavender said.
"I'm not so sure." Hermione said. "But, over the last few days, I've had time to think on it. And I think Ron and I are better off as friends."
"Why do you think that?" Lavender inquired curiously.
"I've just been thinking is all. We row quite often. And we've rarely ever seen eye to eye on things. Even he didn't like me all that much first year. And I love him to death, but he's my best friend. And I think it's best for it to stay that way." Hermione explained.
Lavender nodded. "That makes sense." She decided after thinking for a moment. "But what about you and Harry?" She asked.
"What?" Hermione laughed dubiously.
"I noticed earlier that he held your hand under the table at breakfast. You two have a deeper understanding of each other that you and Ron don't have, or Harry and Ron for that matter." Lavender said, eyeing her knowingly.
Hermione laughed incredulously. "No. No, Harry and I are friends. Best friends. That's all." She said.
"It's sounds like your trying to convince yourself rather than me." Lavender said, a teasing lilt to her voice.
Hermione stumbled through a laugh, clearly nervous with the turn in conversation.
"Oh Hermione." Lavender shushed her gently. "I saw the way you looked at him. And I see the way he looks at you. I might not be the brightest witch, but I'm certainly not daft." She said.
Hermione faltered on an explanation. She opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to formulate a response. She chuckled nervously. "I- well, I've never really thought about it I guess."
"Oh I know that isn't true. I know we aren't friends, and you don't owe me an explanation, but please don't lie to yourself." Lavender said sincerely.
"Well I'd like to be friends." Hermione said, genuinely but also attempting to redirect the conversation.
"Really? Great!" Lavender exclaimed excitedly. "Oh it'll be so nice having a real girl friend." She said.
Hermione smiled genuinely. "I think so too."
"But seriously Hermione." She said, a little more seriously but still gentle, turning to face her on the couch. "That boy looks at you like you hung the moon."
"But- he likes someone else. He's even told me as much." Hermione said.
"Have you noticed before today that your feelings for him might be more?" Lavender asked.
Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, no. Not until you said something." She decided.
"Then maybe he doesn't realize it either." Lavender said.
"Or you could be wrong." Hermione offered.
Lavender nodded. "I could be. But I've seen him when he looks at you. He absolutely lights up when you walk into a room. He hangs on your every word when you speak, and he looks at you with such admiration."
"I feel like my world's been turned upside down." Hermione said. "I'm not even sure I ever really liked Ron. I mean, he was a pillar of support during the summer when I couldn't talk to Harry. I worried about him so much. And Ron made an effort to not argue with me. He helped me not to worry about Harry so much." She said as she thought.
"Maybe it was an infatuation. A passing fancy. Intense and passionate, but ultimately doesn't come of anything and ends up passing quickly." Lavender explained.
"That makes sense." Hermione said.
"Or maybe it was because you hung out with Ron more to distract yourself from worrying about Harry." Lavender said.
"Maybe it was both." Hermione thought aloud. "It was certainly easier to get along without Harry there, for some reason. We were both worried for him so maybe that's why."
"You could have misunderstood your feelings." Lavender offered.
"I think that's it, combined with worrying about Harry." Hermione answered.
"Thank you for not pushing me away." Lavender said.
"Of course. It'll be nice having another girl to talk to." Hermione smiled.
Lavender returned her smile, grateful with how the conversation had progressed.
~
Hermione tossed and turned the remainder of the night, Lavender's words echoing in her ears.
Could she like Harry? She couldn't imagine her life without him.
But, Ron was her best friend too, she couldn't imagine her life without him either.
She decided to reflect on why she liked each of them, looking at it logically instead of emotionally.
Ron might be jealous, but he makes up for it with heart. He's brave when he needs to be, and generally playful and laid back. He isn't the best at standing up for himself, but he can stand up for others. And when it comes down to it, he can be there for his friends, despite whatever may have come between them.
But he's also a git. He's loud and boisterous, and cocky. He has a hard time being wrong, and an even harder time apologizing when he is. He's proud, and stubborn. But despite this, he's her best friend.
Harry, he's just always understood her. He always listens when she rants, and he's always there for her when she needs anything. He's always been her shoulder to cry on, and he was her first real friend at Hogwarts. Sure, he's also proud and stubborn, and he's had his moments where he was too arrogant. He's bullheaded at times, but he comes around. He's never had a problem apologizing to her, but to others, well it depends she supposed.
He's always thinking of her first, and he listens when she talks about why she's feeling what she's feeling. He's never been jealous when she talked about another guy to him, if anything, he's always encouraging. He's selfless, and it shows when he wished Ginny and Dean well, despite his crush. He's brave and courageous, willing to run head first into danger despite his fear to do so. He's loyal and protective, he's kind and generous, he's-
'Bloody hell,' she thought, 'maybe I do like him.'
The more she thought about it, the more she realized she may have always liked him as more. She'd never had another boy friendship to compare it to, until now.
She shook it off, 'I'm just overthinking things again.'
She turned over again, determined to get to sleep before she got too into her head.
~
Her head was foggy all day after her late-night talk with Lavender. She just couldn't bring herself to focus in any of her classes, and right away Harry and their professors were worried she'd become ill.
She couldn't tell him that it was him that was so distracting, lest he believe he'd done something wrong to upset her. Or, God forbid, should anyone work out why he's distracting her.
No, she'd just keep it to herself.
'Or,' she thought suddenly, 'I could talk to Lavender. She did say we're friends now. And she seems to have a good idea of what to do in the boy department.'
"Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked.
Hermione's head snapped up. "Yes, professor?" She asked, hoping she hadn't gotten in trouble.
"Are you alright?" McGonagall asked again, genuinely concerned.
She nodded. "Fine, why do you ask?" Hermione responded, in what she hoped was an even tone.
"Because you're awfully quiet today." Seamus said from the other side of the room.
Professor McGonagall eyed him, and he stopped talking.
"I promise, I'm okay. Just didn't sleep well last night is all." Hermione said.
"Perhaps you should return to your dormitory and rest, Miss Granger." McGonagall asked.
Lavender raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Brown?"
"I could walk her back to the dorms. If it would make you feel at ease." She said.
Hermione wanted to argue, but she knew she couldn't make a good enough excuse. She thought this was all nonsense, really, but she could see where McGonagall was coming from. She probably did seem sick to anyone who didn't know what was going through her head.
McGonagall nodded, and gestured to the two girls to pack up.
As they headed into the hallway, she could hear her resume the class.
The walk to the Gryffindor portrait was quiet, only when they entered the common room did Lavender speak up.
"What is it?" She asked.
Hermione dropped her bag and plopped onto the sofa that faced the fireplace. She sighed before responding, "I just have a lot on my mind."
Lavender sat next to her. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.
Hermione bit her lip as she contemplated telling her right then. She didn't know how she felt, and she didn't want to ruin anything with Harry.
Lavender didn't push, she patiently waited beside Hermione, watching the flames flicker and dance in the fireplace.
"How..." Hermione started nervously, "how can you tell romantic feelings from platonic ones?" She asked bashfully.
Instead of the teasing comments Hermione was expecting, Lavender answered quite seriously.
"I think you can tell by how you think of them versus how you think of others. If something bad happens, and all you want is to be with them, I think that's love." She said. Hermione turned to face her, silently asking her to continue.
"When they choose you, over and over, choose to love you, choose to think about you, choose to do your favorite things because they know how much you love doing them, choose to go through all the good and all the bad with you, even when everyone else would have left. When they want to share their triumphs with you, but also come to you if they need support. But not just them, when you find yourself doing these things too. When you choose them, choose to open your heart, choose to share in their favorite things, choose to be there through their highs and lows, through all of it. I think you'll know when it isn't 50/50, but 100/100: when you trust them with your whole heart, and they not only cherish yours but entrust their own heart with you." Lavender explained, Hermione hanging on every word.
She couldn't think of anyone that fit that description besides Harry. He's the only one who has stuck by her 100% of the time. And she knows that no matter what, nothing could make her abandon him. If he needed her, she'd be there. And if she needed him, he'd come running to her aid, no matter where he was.
When she envisioned her future, she envisioned him.
And that's when she knew she was screwed.
~
Hey guys! I hope you liked my little harmony fic! Let me know in the comments/reblogs if you're interested in a part two 😏
I need more of this.
Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.
Carpathia received Titanic’s distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.
(Californian’s exact position at the time is…controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanic’s distress rockets. It’s uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)
Carpathia’s Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanic’s aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.
All of Carpathia’s lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.
I don’t know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.
Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awake–prepping a ship for disaster relief isn’t quiet–and all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.
And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.
Here’s the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining rooms–which, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when she’d done that, he asked her to go faster.
I need you to understand that you simply can’t push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only reckless–it’s difficult to maneuver–but it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They can’t do it. It can’t be done.
Carpathia’s absolute do-or-die, the-engines-can’t-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.
No one would have asked this of them. It wasn’t expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a responsibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.
They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.
This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanic’s last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.
In total, 705 people of Titanic’s original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.
At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.
I think the least we can do is remember them for it.
I can’t begin to describe how happy and flattered and a little teary I am that this just broke 100k.
I may be the actual only human being on Tumblr with a post this popular that I not only don’t regret making, but am actually HAPPY whenever I notice a surge in its circulation.
I never intended this to gain any traction at all (you’ll notice there’s no sources or anything–this was a personal ramble, prompted in good humor by a friend after I jokingly said that I wished someone would give me an excuse to cry about Carpathia on Tumblr so I could get it out of my system.) I literally expected to get, like, maybe 20 likes and a reblog, from friends, indulging me in my nonsense.
It just….means a lot to me that it’s touched so many people. I see a lot of tags to the effect of “HOW DARE YOU HURT ME LIKE THIS AND MAKE ME CRY ABOUT A BOAT” that are often really funny, but overwhelmingly the tags on this post are from people saving it for a rainy day, or remarking in a sort of quiet awe that they never even really thought about her role in the story–and God knows I never did, I learned it by complete accident much as most of the people who’ve found this post.
And so many of you guys are taking strength and reassurance from the reminder not only that people are capable of amazing things together, but simply that kindness matters and that a simple, tiny act of compassion is never wasted. I’m just really glad to have been able to do that for some folks.
If I can just add one personal note. I need to emphasize something I only touched on in the original post.
I need to emphasize that Carpathia failed.
A lot of the tags and comments have a tinge of…despair, or guilt, or wistfulness about things like this happening so rarely. Or inadequacy, or just being overwhelmed or unhappy about not being in a position to step up in a comparable way. And I want to gently bring up the fact that this is still the sinking of the Titanic.
They did not get there in time. They did not save the ship. It can be argued that they may not even have saved a single life; we have no way of knowing. This was still a horrific maritime disaster mired in arrogance and incompetence and a lack of care.
If the response to this story shows anything, it shows this: It matters that they tried.
Even though they got there too late, even though the ship still sank. It matters that they tried. The difference between making the best reasonable speed after confirming the seriousness of the situation, and the miracle they pulled off–it matters. It makes all the difference. Even if it made no difference at all. Not one of you read this and concluded that I was stupid for caring so much when the Titanic still sank and all those people still died.
You don’t have to fix the world. You’ll likely be cold and sick and miserable and testy and scared, and unprepared, and in over your head, and entirely too small to be of any real use. It feels stupid, passing out blankets and coffee in the middle of an ice field knowing what just happened. It’s hard to feel anything but useless when all you can do is tap a wireless transmitter and promise help that you know will come too late.
It matters that they fought for those people. It matters that they cared, and it matters that they tried. It matters that they didn’t stop. If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have read this far.
“Harry and Ron are playing poker with Hermione’s dad and her dad jokingly offers Hermione’s hand in marriage as a stake. When Harry wins the hand, both he and the paper her dad put in the pot glowed.”
— anonymous
Reblog if you are Team Harry&Hermione
Me: *joins a fandom*
Also me: *proceeds to not watch the show and live off of fanon content and compilation videos instead*
me trying to flirt: we can have anxiety together
I love it when people complain about new gen Pokémon for being unoriginal when there are unironically TWO separate old school Pokémon that look like this:
*Every time I’m trying to state Harry Potter Facts*
Me: Wait is that cannon? Or did I read that in a fanfic?
The HMS Harmony Discord has a serious and important announcement to make and hope everyone here will read this post, the whole way through.
SERVER RAID:
Keep reading
Why do people stop commenting on fics if they’re more than a week or two old? Please comment on old fics. Tell me you like my one shot from 2014. Tell me you like my old multi-chap I finished in 2016 that I spent a year writing. I will be fucking thrilled.
Fics are not social media posts. There’s no “stalking” someone’s “old posts”. They’re meant to be found and enjoyed years down the line. No need to be nervous.
I reblog this message every time it comes across my dash because it’s true. And also:
When I first started writing fanfic, back in the mid 1990s (yes! the late twentieth century!) one of the discouraging things about it was that people treated fanfic as if it was disposable. It seemed like what most readers wanted was a constant stream of new content, whereas I tend to produce one big work every 6-12 months. It made me sad that people seemed to think there was no point to re-reading or saving old fic. There is no sell-by date on fiction! It does not get out of order! It can still work even years or decades later!
So yeah, I have stories up at ao3 that are literally a quarter-century old, and every time someone leaves a comment on them I am very pleased to get it. We get attached to our stories and it cheers us up to see that they are still finding readers. It means that they are still ‘alive,’ in some way.
AO3 is not social media, it’s (essentially) a library.
You’re meant to engage with any and all of it, regardless of age.
OH! This is the first time I’ve seen a picture for it!
this is my single favorite halloween post in all of time and history
I love this
Hermione pointed at the stars in the sky. "See that? It's a stag! And you can make out an otter right next to it. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yeah." Harry glanced at her and smiled, subtly moving his hand on top of hers. "Beautiful." 💫
