#I’m thinking. it sounds like she went thought a few different ‘eras’ & now I *need* to draw what those eras might have looked like 😭

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 2

As you reconcile with Sirius, he reminisces on how you came to be friends despite a rather rocky start (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 2 .:Pranks and Past Prejudices:.

~Previously~

“I was about to see if you were awake,” Sirius admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, stepping aside slightly so you could come in. If the Sirius Black from your school days had offered you into his room in the dead of night, you would have slapped him upside the head; but things were different now, and so were the two of you. 

However, as you glanced around the room you almost laughed at how remarkably unchanged it was, and why wouldn't it be? He hadn't lived here since he was sixteen, and he was only living here now because he preferred this house to an Azkaban cell by a small fraction. While the rest of the house was set in deep tones of obsidian and gray, save for the green Slytherin theme of his younger brother's room, Sirius' room was all warm shades of red and gold, Gryffindor paraphernalia covering every inch of it from Quidditch trophies and old banners to a tapestry he had stolen from the Great Hall when they'd won the house cup that year.

The room was littered with memories of your school life— a set of charred robes from when he and James had drunkenly lit the Quidditch field hoops on fire, an old Beater's bat that he had broken in half during the Cup finals, an old Gobstones set you used to play with in the courtyard, and stacks of classic rock records that you and Remus had gifted him for the holidays. A muggle toolbox sat in the corner of the room from when he'd made improvements to his enchanted motorbike that couldn't be done with magic, which you were certain his parents were mortified by.

Posters of bikini-clad women were plastered across the wallpaper, and you recalled the day he told you his mother had a fit when she realized he'd used a permanent sticking charm on them so she couldn't take them down. Said posters were still present, but mostly covered up by all the photos of him and his friends from their school and early Order days— the only noticeable sign of change you could see from his moving back in. It was truly like some sort of time capsule.

As soon as you tore your eyes away from the room and turned to focus on its owner, a tense silence fell between you two. This was the first time you had seen Sirius in over a decade. The last time you two spoke, he was in chains being led away to Azkaban. What was there to say? How could you possibly think things could go back to the way they were? 

“Sirius,” your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name, and when you saw the look in his eyes, so similar to the look he'd given you when he was in that horrible barbed cage during his trial, the dam just broke.

You practically threw yourself at him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the fabric of his shirt bunched up in your trembling hands

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I am so, so sorry I didn't believe you, Sirius. I didn't know, I didn't—”

“(Y/n), it's okay,” Sirius said softly.

You almost jumped at his gentle touch, his arm wrapping around your waist and one hand coming up to pet your hair. It hurt him to see you like this, that you went through this much because of him.

“There was no way you could have known,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head as tears continued to stream down your face, “There was no proof that I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We'd decided to make it that rat at the last second. Only James and Lily knew and, well, they couldn't exactly attest to my innocence.”

Hatred bubbled up in his chest at his own mention of Pettigrew, but he forced it down for you, his expression softening as soon as he looked at you. “That was bad judgment on my part, I suppose,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, although twelve years in prison was a difficult matter to joke about.

“I should have just believed you,” you muttered into his collar. Sirius' other hand reached out to cup your face, wiping the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Come now, even Moony thought I'd done it,” he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face, “I know what it looked like. . . I don't blame any of you for not believing me. So please, don't blame yourself for this, (Y/n). You're still my best friend.”

“Oh, now you've done it,” you sniffled, laughing despite yourself as fresh tears spilled over. Sirius laughed along with you and yo u could feel the sound reverberate through his chest, rich and melodic. Warm.

He wrapped both his arms around you, holding you tight as you two chuckled like a couple of idiots, standing there glassy-eyed in the middle of his room. If anyone else had bore witness to the scene they'd have thought you'd gone mad, but in that moment you couldn't care less. Your body had been buckling under the weight of your guilt and how much you had missed him. Hearing him say that he still considered you his best friend. . . that was more than you could have ever asked for.

Sirius swelled with pride as he saw he was able to make you smile, something he'd long considered a small victory. He couldn't believe how much your relationship had changed. If someone had told him all those years ago that you would turn out to be someone he couldn't imagine his life without, he wouldn't have believed them. But he supposed life was unexpected like that. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1973  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the day you'd stood up to him, James Potter found himself increasingly curious about you. Of course he and his friends continued to pick on Snape, but when you were around to fend them off it became more and more difficult to do so, something that the leader of the self-proclaimed Marauders decided was cumbersome.

James insisted that to get to Snape they would have to take you down too, since you were so keen on protecting him.

“We need to cut the head off the snake,” he had said.

And so, slowly but surely, James shifted the cross hairs of his mischief-making from Severus Snape to you. It started out small; a Bat-bogey hex here, some heat sensitive combustion power under your cauldron there. What he didn't expect in the slightest was for you to actually retaliate with pranks of your own.

Quidditch season had just ended as the year came to a close, and James, who was supposed to be helping clean out the Gryffindor tent, was lying on his back and fiddling about with a golden snitch he'd found wedged in the wooden scaffolding. His head perked up as he saw the Lily across the pitch, walking next to you and chatting. He clearly couldn't care less about what, as he had no problem interrupting your conversation.

“Hey, Evans!” he hollered, heading towards you two.

As soon as Lily spotted him she rolled her eyes.

“And now we're walking faster,” she muttered, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along.

“Aw come on, I just wanna talk,” he said, quickly catching up with you. Before long he had jogged a few paces ahead, turning around to block your path. “Hey,” he said with a smirk. He was wearing his Quidditch practice uniform, broom in hand.

“Merlin, you are nothing if not persistent,” Lily huffed.

“What can I say? I'm a Chaser~”

“Goodbye, James,” Lily deadpanned at the pun, and he quickly moved in front of her again.

“Wait, wait! Just watch this, okay?” he insisted.

You bit back a smirk, grateful he hadn't paid you any mind until now.

“Trust me, you've never seen anything like this before,” James said cockily, willing his broomstick to hover a few feet off the ground and hauling one leg over to mount it. However, as soon as his arse hit the wood, his entire body phased right through it. He groaned as his tailbone made unceremonious contact with the ground, his broomstick now hovering above him. As soon as he looked up the stick dropped and plonked him on the head, solid again.

You burst out laughing, revealing your wand that had been obstructed from his view by your sleeve.

“(Y/n)!” Lily looked at you in shock, hitting you in the arm playfully but unable to fight the laughter that rose in her chest. It was nice to see him get a harmless taste of his own medicine.

“Well, you were right, Potter,” the redhead said, “I've never seen anything like that before.”

James' face flushed with embarrassment while you two walked away, gathering his broom and whatever remained of his pride. You wouldn't get the better of him again.

Or, at least that's what he told himself until the beginning of your fourth year.

________________________________________________________

James strode down the corridors leading to the Great Hall with a pep in his step. It had been an unusually peaceful morning; despite having slept in, he wasn't in much of a rush to join his friends who had already made their way to breakfast.

The real reason for his quick pace was because he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his latest prank. It was a classic, amped up a bit thanks to a tube of ink from one of the “magic” markers at Zonkos. He hoped you liked your new look, because you were going to be saddled with it for a while.

As he walked through the courtyard he shot a wink to a fourth year Hufflepuff girl he recognized from his Divination class and she covered her hand with her mouth, turning away from him slightly as she tried to hold back the giggles that spilled from her lips. He gave himself a pat on the back, oblivious to the fact that the laughter was directed at him, an unawareness that stayed with him up until the moment he threw the doors to the Great Hall open. The gasps and laughter that followed him only grew as he sat down at his usual spot. Even his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“What?” James ran a hand through his hair in confusion, “What are you guys—!!”

As his hair flopped in front of his face his peripheral vision was curtained with the brightest shade of neon turquoise he'd ever seen.

“No,” he said, “no, no, no way!”

He grabbed one of the food trays, dumping the pastries that were on top onto the table. Peter squeaked as he caught a few that were about to fall, setting them down quietly on his own plate.

James stared at his reflection in the shiny metal, and sure enough his once pristine brunette hair was colored the bright blue of the magic marker whose contents he'd dumped into your shower bottle the night before.

“Did you like the shampoo?” a voice behind him asked innocently.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to see you, your hair colored the same bright blue shade. Now he was thoroughly confused.

“It smells nice, right?”

“How did you. . . if I. . . why is your hair—”

“A simple connection charm on the shampoo bottle,” you said, “anyone who touches it receives the same benefits and results of the next person who uses it within three hours. In this case, you landed yourself a dye job and a hell of a keratin treatment, so you're welcome. The spell was already on the bottle to begin with; pretty convenient when you have dorm mates that can all save on buying product, and besides it can be kind of nice to skip a hair wash day every once in a while. I suppose I should thank you, I didn't have to do any shopping or sneaking around for this one. You did all the work for me.”

You put your hand to your chin, pretending to study him for a moment.

“You should take care of that fast, though” you said nonchalantly, gesturing to his hair, “you don't look nearly as cute as I do in this color, Potter.”

To further prove your point, you waved your wand around the crown of your head, and with a quick utter of 'aufero hue' the blue in your hair seemed to melt right off the strands, leaving behind your natural (h/c) locks. The color swirled around the tip of your wand in an aqueous state for a moment before you flung it aside. It landed with a splat! against the Gryffindor table, staining a section of the wood that same shade of bright blue as if it had grown that way.

“I'd do it for you myself, but I don't want to,” you smirked, “ Perhaps you could take a few remedial classes to learn the color-leeching charm. Have fun figuring something out!”

And with that you flounced away, leaving behind a very embarrassed, very blue, and very reluctantly impressed James Potter.

He may just have found himself a proper rival.

Sirius scoffed from where he sat.

“Oh please, the stupid charm can't be that hard to do,” he said, taking out his wand.

“Not that I don't have faith in you, mate, but I'm probably better off seeing if Slughorn has anything for this,” James said.

“Why don't you just soak your head in some Valerian water? That's what takes the color out of potions, right?”

“Peter, he might go bald if he does that.”

“Oh.”

_______________________________________________________

James would go on to land a few good jokes on you too. There was one night where you had snuck into the Prefect's bathroom and emerged with a mermaid tail, which was pretty awesome until you realized you had no way of getting out of the tub. From then on, you and James would continue to try and get the jump on one another, marking the start of your now-infamous fourth year prank war. It entertained the students and infuriated the faculty. Gradually, your pranks on one another became more light-hearted, meant to amuse the other person and make them laugh rather than actually hurt or humiliate them.

“Very funny, (L/n),” James said as he walked up to you, his body turned around 180 degrees from the waist up so he had to shuffle backwards to face you. You laughed, nearly choking on your pumpkin juice as you saw your handy work.

“What are you, five?”

“Right, because you're so much more mature stalking and bullying my friends,” you quipped back.

“I really don't understand how Snivelus is your friend.”

“Severus,” you said crossly, “and for the record, I really don't understand how Remus is yours either. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Har har,” James rolled his eyes, “Now would you turn me the right way 'round already? I've got Quidditch practice.”

“Nah, I think you're fine to play like this.”

“Honestly? Not a bad tactic. I can cover my blind spot and stare at my own ass while I fly.”

“Who's five now?” you grinned.

As the months went on, instead of storming over to each other and slinging insults, your interactions with James became more akin to playful banter. And frankly, Sirius didn't get it. You were a Slytherin, and a pureblood at that. Hell, you were a descendant of one of the 28 pureblood families. Everything about you went against everything he believed in and relished in getting away from each year when he would leave home to go to school. You were in the same house as those stupid blood purists, you probably were one yourself—

“You're glaring.”

Sirius blinked, snapping out of his stupor as Remus nudged him in the shoulder. He said nothing, slowly returning to eating his dinner as he tore his eyes away from you, sitting at the Slytherin table with Snivelus, Evan Rosier, and his younger brother of all people. He stabbed at his roast potatoes a little too harshly and his friends traded looks among themselves.

“You alright there, mate?” James asked cautiously.

“Fantastic,” Sirius said, shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth to avoid saying anything unsavory as he spotted you heading towards their table.

“Coming to the library today, Remus?” you asked the boy to his right who looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh, sure thing,” he said, “I'm off for the night.”

“Great, we can study for Arithmancy then,” you said. Remus nodded at your suggestion and you gave him a dazzling smile, walking off with your books.

“Since when did you two get so chummy?” Sirius bristled.

Remus rolled his eyes.

“We're just studying for the upcoming mid marks,” he said, “They’re proficient in Ancient Runes and History of Magic. As a study partner it's. . . refreshing.”

“Oi, are you calling us stupid?” James rose a brow.

“Your words, not mine,” Lupin grinned. He saw Sirius' bothered expression and sighed, collecting his things.

“You might get on if you bothered to get to know them,” he told Sirius out of the others' earshot, slinging his book bag over his shoulder before heading off in your direction.

You only continued to grow inadvertently closer to James throughout your fourth year, your prank battle coming to its epic conclusion with the two of you joining forces against some particularly nasty upperclassmen. Your practical jokes subsided, your quips and passing insults were traded for real conversations and walking each other to class. You hated to admit it, but he'd grown on you— especially with him letting up considerably on bullying Severus and annoying Lily lately.

All the while, the closer you got to James the more irritated his best friend became. In Sirius' mind, the more time you were spending with James the less time James was spending with him. They hardly hung out alone anymore. And since James started hanging out with you he started mellowing out, which made Lily start hanging out with him, which made him even more tame. Sirius just wanted his best friend back.

“You do realize that issue would largely be resolved if you weren't so bothered by hanging out with both of them together, right?” Lupin had brought up one night as Sirius was airing out his frustrations.

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Have you ever asked them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for the unexpected early support on this story! I have a lot planned for it~ If you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know ! 

Read chapter 3 here!

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan @sleep-i-ness @parker-natasha​

[y0itsbri]

shameless summer series - lifeguard au 🥽🩲🌊

debbie has her eye on the new lifeguard at the public pool. unlucky for her, said lifeguard already has his eye set on a different red-headed gallagher.

(think like s2 era)

also happy a.u.gust! @gallavichthings

words: 1.7k

"Debs, why do I gotta take you to the pool again this week? I thought you already fixed whatever was the problem with that blonde bitch," Ian whined, shoveling cereal into his mouth. Two tubes of sunscreen sat on the table in front of him.

"It's not about her anymore." Debbie retorted, like it was the simplest thing.

"Okay. Then what is it about?"

"Nothing!"

"Ask her boyfriend." Carl yelled over his video game in the living room, taking any opportunity to embarrass his sister.

Ian and Debbie's voices overlapped with a "Boyfriend?!" and "He's not my boyfriend-- Carl I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Debbie tossed a fork at Carl's head.

"Oh, now I'm definitely in," Ian laughed and winced before Debbie could throw a fork his direction.

--

The walk to the pool was relatively quiet aside from the rhythmic smacking of their sandals against the gravely pavement.

Debbie leapt a few strides, trying to outrun her shadow and failing each time. Ian chuckled, pulling the towel around his neck and swinging his keychain with the other hand.

Now that it was just the two of them, he tried again.

"Soooo," he drawled. "What's with this secret boyfriend?"

Debbie sighed. "He's not my boyfriend. Well, not yet."

"Hmm?"

"He's one of the new lifeguards since Justin got attacked by that dog last week."

Justin still owed Lip a beating for something or other so Ian was glad he didn't have to deal with Justin today, at least.

"You think this new lifeguard is a little too old for you?" Ian wondered.

Debbie shrugged. "Not like it matters much."

Ian couldn't argue with that logic. "I'll kick his ass if he bothers you, yeah?"

"Please. He doesn't even look at me. Even when I was fake-drowning." She skipped down the sidewalk, nearing the pool entrance.

Ian shook his head. His sister was something else.

--

After they set their towels down, Ian's eyes scoured the lifeguard chairs immediately. Too-tan-Toni, shrimp-speedo-Sam, and holy-fucking-shit. Was that Mickey Milkovich?

Ian hadn't let himself think about Mickey since he left town. But it was hard not to now that he was right in front of him again. Shit.

Mickey spread out across his chair, sunglasses low on his nose, watching the newcomers and he smirked before glancing back towards the pool. He blew his whistle and yelled at some kid to 'slow the fuck down unless you wanna bust your ass -- and I ain't fixing you up!'

Ian was brought back to the moment by Debbie's hands waving in front of his face. "Helloooo, earth to Ian! Sunscreen?"

Ian could've sworn he heard a chuckle coming from the direction of the lifeguard chair as he dug the sunscreen out of his shorts pockets. No. He was just being paranoid. His cheeks blushed regardless.

"Is that...?" Ian nodded his head towards the raven-haired man.

"Shhh!" Debbie slapped him on the arm. "Don't make it obvious!"

Ian rolled his eyes at her ridiculousness.

He covered Debbie's back and shoulders in the high resistance sunscreen before she took off towards the side of the pool with the diving board, eager to show off her skills.

He yelled after her. "Wait, fuck, Debs you forgot..." He glanced around.

His eyes definitely locked with Mickey's now.

Fuck.

Mickey hopped off his chair, waving his hand to dismiss his crowd of moon-eyed preteen girls and middle-aged women in scandalous bikinis. Ian would have shuddered at the thought if Mickey wasn't making a bee-line directly towards him.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuuuuuck.

"'Sup, man? Been awhile..." He smirked. "Raggedy Ann run out on ya?" Mickey bowed his leg out on his final step towards Ian, a little closer than he expected.

"Uhhh...." Real smooth, Ian. His words were bound to fail him again with the man in such close proximity to him, so he simply held up his bottle of sunscreen and shrugged.

"Toss it here," Mickey coolly demanded.

Ian was thoroughly confused, but threw it anyways. "What?"

"You heard me, Red. Turn around, I'll get your back."

"Protecting and serving the local ginger kids at the pool?" Ian joked weakly, finding his voice again.

Mickey huffed a breath. "Fuck the pigs. The only thing I'm protecting is your ass from a sunburn."

Ian was still confused as to why Mickey was offering to rub his back at a very public pool when he would have literally beaten his ass for looking his direction before.

All of Ian's thoughts subsided as he felt sturdy hands push the warming liquid around his shoulder blades, up his neck, then down his spine. Mickey's thumb digging deep into his muscles. He suppressed his urge to shiver despite the rising temperatures of the hot Chicago summer.

At least he thought he had suppressed it. A huff of air on the back of his neck said otherwise.

Mickey started pulling his hands away and Ian leaned back into them again. Mickey whacked the side of his head before tossing the bottle of sunscreen onto the chair in front of them.

"No free massages, man. Just sunscreen." Mickey licked the corner of his mouth and looked from the ground up to Ian's eyes.

He had to know how devious he looked. Ian didn't want to be presumptuous, but he just held eye contact.

"Unless," Mickey veered, slowly backing away, "the favor was returned in one way or another." He winked.

Ian stood, mouth agape as Mickey turned and waved again to the group of girls who still hadn't taken their eyes off of him. He hopped up onto his chair, whistle in mouth in no time like nothing had ever happened.

What the fuck was going on?

--

Ian spent the next few hours very much Not Looking At Mickey despite feeling a heated stare on him.

Even when he was having a breath-holding competition with Debbie, his brain couldn't stop the endless stream of Mickey Mickey Mickey.

After Debbie's third win, Ian felt like he was on the verge of passing out, so he returned to his towel, chugging his water bottle.

In a moment of weakness, he glanced at Mickey, only to find him already staring. Mickey tilted his head towards the main building and quietly dismissed himself to go on his break.

Ian knew.

He wasn't that stupid. He knew Mickey wanted him to follow. And he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea. All the while, his feet took him closer.

The building felt even hotter than the outside, the AC must've gone out and no one bothering to replace it.

This was a bad idea.

Ian was just about to turn around and leave when he heard the click of a lock.

"'Bout fuckin' time," Mickey stalked forward, eyes raking up and down Ian's body appreciatively.

Ian was putty.

He groaned as he let himself be pulled forward by the hips. "Didn't know you were a lifeguard?"

He sighed as Mickey toyed with the band of his shorts in between his tattooed fingers. His nails scraping dully against his sides.

"Dad got shanked. Family business went under. Had to go legal." Mickey's hands moved upwards as he raked his fingers through the sides of Ian's still-wet hair, gripping onto the back of his neck. Ian slid his own hands up Mickey's back, pushing his red tank top up with it, exposing his pale skin.

"Missed this." It was a whisper.

Ian attached his lips to the side of Mickey's neck briefly, tasting remnants of salt, chlorine, and sunscreen, before Mickey sunk down to his knees. Ian's hands were now gripping dark hair, and he was sure that the rocky pavement of the unfinished building had to be digging into Mickey's skin, but he made no sounds of discomfort.

Sure, he missed this, but he missed him more, not that he could say that.

--

On the walk home, the sun was hanging low in the sky and both Gallaghers' cheeks were sunburnt pink.

"Did ya have fun?" Ian asked, knocking his empty water bottle against the top of Debbie's head.

She scrunched her face up, but replied with some pep in her voice. "Yeah! Today the hot life guard actually looked at me! Maybe bringing you around was good luck."

No way in hell Ian was going to out Mickey to his little sister, let alone out himself. He put on a big-brother reassuring smile and changed the subject.

"Good luck for you maybe. I lost literally all of our competitions today!"

She giggled, "That was all skill, not luck. Frank's been helping me practice!"

Frank? Maybe Ian needed to spend a little more time at home. On the other hand, maybe it was a good thing Ian hadn't been spending a lot of time at home.

--

Ian left after dinner unannounced, taking his well-worn trail to the baseball dugouts.

When he approached the field, he noticed a small orange flame illuminating the man's face and a cloud of smoke fog through the chained fence. He smirked.

"Couldn't get enough the first round?" Ian taunted, announcing his presence as he leapt over the fence, an old habit.

"Fuck you, man," Mickey scoffed and blew his smoky breath in Ian's grimacing face.

"Oh I think you plan on it." He stepped closer.

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm," Ian plucked the cigarette out of Mickey's fingers. "Can't have you with bad lungs, then what will all the poor defenseless swimmers do without a capable lifeguard?"

"Let 'em drown," Mickey smacked Ian's cigarette out of his hands and closed the distance between them.

"It would crush your groupies to know you care so little," Ian murmured against his neck.

"This is a bad idea," Mickey breathed, tugging at Ian's crumpled shirt.

"The worst," Ian yanked his shirt fully off.

Mickey pulled back, eyeing Ian's now-bare back.

"Mmm, no sunburn. That would've ruined my plans." Mickey smiled smugly.

Oh shit.

Ian swallowed. He was already way too far off the deep end. Luckily for them both, Mickey knew how to swim.

[ererokii]

Pretend I Am || Zhongli

note: hi! This is super indulgent for some reason because I just wanted to write this so bad. Thank you @reddriot and @etegomanere for betaing!

Warnings: spoilers for archon quests (?) angst, insecurity, identity crisis

WC: 5.1k

Synopsis: After his first love joined dust once again, Zhongli can’t help but believe she’s still here, through you.

Staring into a mirror wasn’t the same as it was before. An image was put into your head, your mind playing tricks upon tricks that got you dizzy just thinking about it.

Many tales of the God of Dust were passed down from generation to generation. Your family seemed to be fond of her stories, especially hearing about the creation of the Guizhong Ballista.

The more you heard of her, the more you wanted to be her. She was your idol as a young child. A woman building something was not commonly heard of at that age, but it was possible.

Now at the ripe age of 24, you despised hearing of her.

Glaze lilies.

How horrid, yet so beautiful. Delicate shades of blue sprouting up at you, with a deeper meaning behind the petals that saddened you. Staring down upon them, you were drawn to them despite having harsh thoughts of these flowers. When the sun went down and the moon took over, you would be home and have glaze lillies in your vase by the window.

Amber eyes would stare at you from the hallway, drinking in your appearance. The funeral consultant, Zhongli, would look on with a rather perplexed and sorrowful expression. The amount of times he found you with Glaze Lilies by your side was enough for a pain to form in your chest.

And that’s how it started. Something as simple as a flower was able to ruin your own image.

Accidentally slips of the name would be heard, causing your head to perk up at the sudden change. Not long after, formal apologies would be sent your way, gloved fingers would intertwine with yours, thumbs rubbing your knuckles.

It felt as if you weren’t enough. Hearing her name felt like a spear being thrown through your heart, ironic because the one saying her name was Rex Lapis himself.

Many times Zhongli would go on a tangent, speaking about the era eons ago; the two gods ruling over Guili Plains. It never bothered you, but by the way he spoke so highly of her, how his voice got more soft to the point where it sounded like he was whispering; you knew he wasn’t over her.

And all you could do was listen with a sad smile and nod your head to the things he spoke about.

In Zhongli’s eyes, you were beautiful, ethereal, and intelligent.

Just like Guizhong.

-

Your words seem like idle chatter in the back of his mind as he peers over at you from the sofa in the main lounge of your shared house. Your back to him, hands moving to grab things. There’s a slight downward curve to his lips, his gloved finger tapping away at his knee as if concentrating.

His golden eyes take notice of the dress you’re wearing. A shade of white with intrigue designs at the bottom. The forsaken flower that seemed to the base of his problems, shined like gold in his vision.

With slightly widened eyes, he leans forward, his hand balled. His calm breathing changes to something shaky, a small pant leaving his mouth. His vision becomes cloudy, tears threatening to spill past his lower lids. The Archon wants to reach out and grasp, wanting to make sure she’s safe forever.

But dreams could hardly become reality.

“Zhongli,” she whispers, a concerned look plastered on her face as she turns around to gaze at him. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He recognizes the sleeves from her dress; something he made poked fun at her for being too big. But for some reason, he can’t see her features. All he can take notice is the Glaze Lilly tucked behind her ear, holding a strand in place.

He’s unable to say anything and blinks, the tear trickling down his face as he stares one more time.

“Zhongli,” you call out for once more, taking a seat beside him on the sofa. “What’s wrong, my love?” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raspy, eyes looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry..”

“W-What are you even sorry for? What did you do?”

And he doesn’t tell you. He composes himself and says he’s out for a walk, alone.

From that night on, he never brought up what happened. But you weren’t stupid; you knew what was going on.

It was growing harder for you to stare at your reflection. It felt as if your face was a lie— like you were being lied too. The longer you gazed at the mirror, the more you got confused. In the eyes of everyone, they see a young adult woman with unique features that could make her desirable to any man in Liyue.

But in your own, you couldn’t even see yourself. All you could see was the stem, leaves and petals of a Glaze Lilly. No matter where, no matter what, it was there.

She was there— someone you looked up to in your childhood years.

Your fingers hesitantly stroke the glass of the mirror, feeling the cold underneath your fingertips. They trace the outline of your cheek, to your eyes, to the curve of your nose. It wasn’t you.

“Who are you pretending to be?” you whisper, taking a step back as it becomes clear.

Staring back at you was a faceless woman, though she wore a frown identical to your own. Her clothes were drastically different from your own. Gold and white silk robes adore her upper body, the only thing your eyes can grasp. The woman seemed strangely distant, something that you couldn’t quite comprehend, something that wasn’t you.

Your hand shakily lifts to your face, your skin warm to the touch. Your chest heaves slowly, deeply inhaling as you exhale, pinching the skin of your cheek. It feels all too real.

Your hands travel over your shoulders to your chest; the clothing of your night time wear does not feel the same as the silk robes she is wearing. It feels too real, yet the person in front of you threw your sense of reality for a loop.

You admire your hand, staring at the palm and the back. It looked as if you were first staring at your limbs like you never have before.

“Guizhong,” you whisper, one hand gripping the counter of the sink, your body leaning forward to stare closely. A yellow stem catches your attention, eyes gazing at the flower in her hair. Mesmerized, you place your hand on your head, feeling for the petals.

In the reflection, she has a petal in between her fingers, rubbing it gently. But you— you’re rubbing nothing but a few strands of your hair. Disappointment runs through your veins, hand dropping back by your side.

Your mind is swirling with thoughts that scare you. The feeling of not being able to recognize yourself was driving you up the well. They were hallucinations, you knew that. You wanted them gone.

You wanted to be able to stare at yourself, to truly be able to do that and speak with confidence and say it’s you.

Now you aren’t able to do that.

Who are you?

-

You never told Zhongli how you felt about yourself; you didn’t want him worrying. Chances are he probably will never know.

A night out was something you desperately needed and that, Zhongli gave you. Not one for fancy things, you told him just going to Wanmin Restaurant would be enough for the two of you.

It was back to the good days when you first got with him. Laughter was shared between the two of you, looks of love and adoration was sent your way. His hand resting on your thigh, giving it an occasional squeeze as he speaks about the interesting history about Liyue (even though you practically knew everything already).

When it’s your turn to speak, you speak with confidence. He loved hearing the words effortlessly flow from your mouth. You knew how to hold up a conversation and draw someone in.

Not to mention how extremely intelligent you were. You talked about inventing things that no man has ever thought of but never brought yourself to do so. Maybe there could have been a weapon to protect Liyue from monsters now with the Archon gone.

“And then if that’s even possible...” you trail off, a sparkle in your eyes as your hands are lively, emphasizing your points. Zhongli can’t help but pay more attention once you talk about inventions. Maybe you could build something like the Guizhong Ballista? But then again, she was one of the smartest women in his lifetime.

He takes his eyes off the woman beside him for a second, watching the waiters pass him with trays of delicious Liyue delicacies being served to other customers. He glanced back over, freezing in his spot.

Guizhong continued to talk, letting out a sigh of defeat, her head hanging forward that showed her being displeased. “It seems almost impossible at this point.”

Instead of getting emotional like the last time, he lets out a hum, then chuckles. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he tells her, looking down at their plates of food that’s almost wiped clean. “I’m positive you’ll manage it.”

“You really think so, Morax?”

“Huh?” That catches his attention, his head snapping back over to the woman. “What did you say?”

“I said you really think so, Zhongli?” Your eyebrows are furrowed, lips pursed ever so faintly as you shift in your seat. “Are you okay? You seem out of it.”

He’s unable to answer, staring down at you with a frown. From your view, he looks disappointed. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to make you repeat yourself but...did you say Morax?”

You’re confused. You have no idea what he’s talking about.

“No,” you start, tilting your head to the side faintly, “I didn’t say Morax...maybe you’re hearing things. We can go back home if you’re not feeling good.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes for a split second before reopening. “Maybe I’m a little tired. It’s okay, darling. I’m fine really. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for the night.”

The calm and collected man did not seem okay, but you decided it was best if boundaries weren’t pushed tonight. “Alright,” you say with a small smile, grabbing his hand, squeezing gently. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” He leans closer, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up. “You seem to doubt me on many occasions. Why is that?”

You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes as you turn your head to face him. “Oh stop it. You know I never doubt you.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” you say, copying his words moments prior; cupping his cheek and stroking his skin with the pad of your finger. “I love you, Zhongli,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. His eyes flutter close, his hand dropping to rest on your waist, reciprocating the kiss.

And I…

That little incident of him hearing his old name did not go unnoticed. Throughout the day you would catch him staring at you like he was lost. His mouth would be slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed to the point where a small wrinkle formed in between them. Whenever you called him out on it, he would lightly shake his head to get his sense of reality straight again before brushing it off.

“Zhongli? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my love.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Of course this worried you to no end. Maybe he was tired?

Maybe he was looking at someone?

Someone who wasn’t you.

-

A night stroll was something you both enjoyed immensely. The soft light of the moon gazing down at you, lighting up the dirt path of Dihua Marsh. No words were spoken between the two of you, rather enjoying the serene silence.

Your eyes focus on the trail in front of you, the leaves of the Sandbearer tree wisp in the cool air of the night. As you venture forward, you lightly kick the pebbles that rest by your foot, watching them roll forward or to the side. You earn a chuckle from the older man beside you; his eyes focused straight ahead.

There’s no definite place you’re headed too. At this point, you might as well be stuck here for the rest of the night.

At this time, monsters roam around, but tonight feels different. It feels as if you don’t have to watch every empty space of land to make sure nothing comes at you. There’s a churning in your gut, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Your eyes catch onto the river on the left side of the trail, the reflection of the moon evident in the rippling water. “That’s pretty,” you state softly, looking up at your lover, “don’t you think?”

“Mhm. I do believe it’s very beautiful,” he says, voice gruff and firm. His ponytail moves with every step he takes, the auburn color at the tips glowing slightly— something that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“This area used to be pure, untouched by wandering monsters, bearing their hands on any living thing. That of course was what happened before the rest of the Gods decided to take seat upon the divine.”

Divine was Celestia. You heard numerous stories told by storytellers that stay in the small restaurant in Liyue. Each story was unique— not like the other. Many citizens of Liyue often got into bickers when it came to telling the ‘true’ story.

The God of Salt’s people refused to call the Geo Archon by his name. Morax was basically poison to them. They believe Havaria was murdered out of sheer jealousy. But of course, that wasn’t true.

When you first heard the story by none other than him himself, you were in awe. Despite the brutality and casualties placed upon god after god and innocent citizens, it left you with nothing but questions.

“Man is known to let their greed take over every ounce of them. Of course, me being ruler over Guili Plains at the time, I had no choice but to protect my people...then the death of Guizhong–” He stops talking, tongue peeking out and licking his lower lip.

You take notice where you’re at now.

A small field of Glaze Lilies.

You watch his shoulders rise slowly as he inhales deeply before exhaling, letting his head fall back as he turns his face to the sky, eyes closed.

“I’m sure you remember me speaking about the Memory of Dust correct?” You nod to his question, following him quite closely as he begins to walk once more, hands behind his back.

“She gave it to me a few months after we met. It’s something no mortal can handle. Even I wasn’t able to open it. I spent months on end, trying my best to open the mystery that was contained inside. It was truly a challenge. But of course, she was a woman with extreme intelligence. Guizhong was the brain for the two of us.”

And thus Zhongli continued to speak highly of her. He shared the moments when the God of Dust. Cloud Retainer and himself would meet up for tea and lunch in Mt.Aozang. He spoke when they would take walks together in Dihua Marsh, walking through the glaze lilies; listening to her sing at the blooming flowers.

Hearing him talk about his previous lover set a fire within you. Insecurity ran through your veins when he would smile, bringing up something else that came into his mind. It made you feel as if you weren’t enough at this very moment.

But, it made you feel loved.

A warmth blossomed in the pit of your chest, your body feeling light and relaxed. The way his eyes sparkled to the way he gestured— everything just seems so perfect. Your lips curled up in a smile as you gazed up at him lovingly, your heart skipping a few beats to the nervous feeling in your stomach.

You were in love.

It was as if he was praising you. You were the intelligent woman, the most beautiful being in Teyvat all those years ago. Generous, kind, thoughtful. Each of those words, you thought it was for you.

You were going deeper and deeper into a hole you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of. Love was something that was meant to be cherished, but was also the more cruel thing a human being can go through.

Love made people blind, and you were one of love’s victims.

“She sounded amazing,” you comment, running your hands through the spot of glaze lilies you’re currently sitting in, the cool green grass rubbing against the palm of your skin.

“She was extraordinary.”

You hum in return, closing your eyes as a cool breeze whooshes by you, goosebumps littering your arms as you shudder under the cold. With the wind, the blades of grass danced under the air, the nearby flowers swaying.

Zhongli peers down at your seated form with the flowers. He watches with intent eyes, looking at the way your hands hold the plant, careful as if it were a form of porcelain.

He can’t help but feel sad as you stroke the blue petals with the tip of your finger, a faint smile on your lips. He pondered to himself; why were you staring up at him with a dumb founded look of love? Surely he wasn’t saying anything great at that moment.

He can recall the way you stared at him with half lidded eyes, like you were dozing off in your own dream state.

It throws him for a whirl. These past few weeks messed with his head— more than anything has in his life.

“Glaze Lilies were her favorite, huh?” you spoke up, bringing it closer to your nose, sniffing as the aroma filled your senses, a pleased sigh passing your lips. Your fingers mess with the stem, no thorns popping out from it.

“They… yes indeed they were.”

It’s silent for a moment before a hum breaks the silence.

Sitting in a small field of Glaze Lillies in Dihua Marsh, you hummed softly to yourself as you become one with the flowers in your mind. If all of Teyvat was silent enough, your melody could reach all ears; the young and the old.

A sheer screen of white flashes before Zhongli’s eyes, blinding the archon for a split second before his eyes snap open, a small pant leaving his lips.

It’s no longer night. The sun has risen for the day, the rays shining down on him.

His arms feel slightly heavy as he gazes down, notice the black and gold lines littering his arms; the color of Geo glowing with each second. He checks his palms then the back, taking notice of the white robe he now wore along with his slightly baggy pants and no shoes.

Unsure, he slowly lifts a hand to the top of his head, feeling a sharp pole coming from under the hood. His horns stood up, tall and proud for everyone to know that this was Rex Lapis.

It’s quiet among the trails in Dihua Marsh. Something catches his eye as he turns his head, noticing the small traces of civilization.

“Odd...everything was in ruin after the war,” he mutters to himself, the dirt rubbing against his bare feet.

Instead of being near the field like he was moments ago, he’s rather far away; the patch of flowers in the distance. Morax is confused as to how he ended over here but decided not to comment.

With each step he takes, the rocks buried in the ground poke at his feet, making him wince faintly in pain. He most definitely recalls wearing shoes before coming out in the open.

Everything now seems to be beautiful, at peace. Nothing was out of the ordinary, the old statues were up, not a single crack on them.

The walk seems to last a millennia to the God of Contracts but eventually reaches the green patch that leads to the blooming flowers.

The first thing he takes sight is the clothed back of what looks like a woman who happens to be sitting in the field. The second thing he notices is a flower of Liyue that rests in her hand.

As he gets closer, his ears catch the melody the woman is singing. It tugs at the strings of his heart, yet drags him deeper into the hole of curiosity .

The red baggy robes are the things he recognizes on the spot. The sleeves are far too large for this lady, the white belt that is loosely wrapped around her waist that gives the idea of carelessness; but the way she moves, the way her voice reaches his ears.

There’s no doubt in his mind.

He gets closer and closer with each note she hits before he’s only three steps away from her. His pupils are dilated, his hand reaching out to grasp.

It’s only seconds until he feels a droplet trickle down his face, dropping to the grass underneath him. One tear turns into two, then three until he’s quietly crying behind the woman, remembering every note.

His arms that glowed have now dimmed, faded from its bright color. His head is hung forward, shoulders slugged as he lets out a shaky breath, bangs brushing against his forehead.

“You know, you don’t have to stand right there and stare.”

“P-Pardon?” Morax stutters, lifting his head up to see the woman’s head turned faintly to where he can see the outline of her nose.

“I said,” she started, her voice soft yet demanding, “you don’t have to stand and stare like that. You can approach me too.”

“My mistake,” Morax clears his throat, one hand wiping away the clear liquid from his cheek. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

She lets out a laugh that makes his heart flutter. “You didn’t scare me. I was able to sense you when you were back there by the old tree. You have a very powerful presence, Morax.”

“I’ve been told that before by old friends of mine.” He peered down at her, taking in the shape of her nose. “Might I ask, what’s your name?”

“My name?” She asks, not giving him what he wanted. “And why might you need that?”

“Well shouldn’t every god know one another?”

She’s silent for one second before nodding. “I suppose you’re right.”

“My name is—“ she tells him but he doesn’t quite catch it. He asks for it once more but does not hear it again. Morax rubs his ear gently before noticing that she’s standing up; back to him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Morax. I think we’ll get along just fine,” her bare feet move in the grass blades, her body beginning to turn.

The wind gets knocked out of his chest, lips parted in shock. A face he’s been trying to remember for eons— isn’t the same as it was.

Her eyes sparkled, a gentle smile on her lips as she approached him. Her features were unique, something that looks awfully familiar but cannot put his tongue on it.

“Don’t you think?” Her head tilts to the side, lifting a Glaze Lily in front of their face. His bright eyes can’t even stare at the plant, fixated on her face that he seemed to see every day of his current life.

“I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer me just yet, Zhongli.”

“What?” He asks in a whisper, voice barely audible to her ears. “What are you talking about?”

“I know, Zhongli.”

There’s a dull ache in his frontal, a hand clutching his forehead with a wince, eyes squeezed shut.

So many things hit him like a meteor. His head is spiraling, his heart feels as if it could burst out of his chest at any second. All he wants to do it lay down on the floor and let everything wash away. That seems like the best option.

“Zhongli...”

His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the now dark setting of Dihua Marsh. Clear liquid cascades down his face as he quickly scans the area. The old traces of civilization were now gone, the area nothing more than flora and fauna; the statues broken down.

“Zhongli.”

Your voice catches his attention, your body standing right in front of him, holding a glaze Lilly in front of your face.

It clicks in his brain for only a second when he sees the tear slipping down your face.

But the thing that throws him off the most is that beautiful smile you’re wearing.

Smiling through the pain as you told yourself many times in the past month. Your sad eyes aren’t even staring at him, rather looking at the petals that seemed to weigh as much as the rocks that surrounded the area.

Seeing your current state set off a small alarm within him. His hand as if automated too, reaches out and cups your cheek, a gloved thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

“What’s wrong?”

“This whole time–” Your voice is shaky, unstable as you steer your gaze to stare into his golden eyes. “–I was confusing myself to no end. Every night I would walk up the mirror and try to figure myself out but I never could. When I closed my eyes, I couldn’t see anything but this...this flower. It was all I saw.”

When you spoke, your smile never faltered. In all honesty, it was starting to get him a bit frightened at how calm yet broken you were.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Maybe you’re just tired?” he suggests, worried about your wellbeing. “You might be stressing yourself too—” You cut him off with a shake of your head, reaching up and cupping both of his cheeks, the stem rubbing against his skin.

“When you close your eyes… I know who you pretend I am.”

At this moment, his vision is blurry as more tears form before slipping past his lower eyelids. He’s unable to see your face, blinking the tears away, but more form in their wake. He’s unable to see you.

“I don’t understand what you mean...”

“I know who you pretend I am, and it’s okay.” Your lips brush against his own for a second, your tears mixing with his own.

Through his tears, he catches a glimpse of your face. To him, you look devastated. Your lips are down in a frown, your head hung forward with your body hunched just a tad, hands by your side. To him, you look done.

But you, you’re far from it.

The circumstances of the now don’t affect you as they did when you first caught onto the strange behavior. The longing glances, how he would spend his hours of the night trying to open the dumbbell that contained her wisdom. Not to mention the slip ups of her name being said rather than her own. Even in his sleep, you could hear him calling for her once in a while.

“I’m not upset. It took me a while to accept it but...I’m ready.” You bring the flower to your nose, taking a whiff then presenting it to him.

Once again the archon stares at you with a dumb founded look, something that was strange to see on him. He can’t say anything as you look forever different in his eyes.

It’s like your body was split in half, making two completely different people. The right side staring at him was Guizhong. His first lover and former ruler of the Guili Plains. Her eyes were sad with a smile, her body stiff as all she could do was stare at him.

The left was his current lover. Someone who went through months of denial, confusion and hurt. Your eyes shone as you offered nothing but a flower and your love and devotion to him.

Two women that happened to be one.

Yet one outshined the other.

“I’m ready to be who you want me to be.” Your hand runs up his face, tucking the stem of the flower behind his ear that now takes a seat in his black hair. “No matter how you see me as, my love for you can never change.”

Zhongli feels his heart flutter at your words and the small laugh that slips past your lips when you catch his look. Yet each time he closes his eyes, your face becomes blurry before going normal. Your clothes change, and so does the style of your hair. Everything changes once he closes his eyes to get his reality set straight.

I know who you pretend I am.

“Even if I’m not Guizhong, I’ll be her for as long as you need...until I die. I’ll always be here, Morax,” you whisper, gazing at his lips before pressing yours against his. Your arms slither around his neck, cradling the back of his neck.

Morax melts into the kiss, his arms encircling your waist bringing you flushed against him.

In his mind, he’s standing in Guili Plains with the sun shining down at him, the God of Dust currently in his arms as their people cry in joy that they found a safe place to live— two caring gods to watch over them forever and protect them from harm's way.

All the worries were thrown out the door as the now is most important to him.

But now, he’s standing in a field covered with the most beautiful flowers known to man, their petals swaying with the sudden harsh wind that hits against him and his lover.

After eons of waiting and in sorrow, Morax now has what he desired the most once the chaos of the Archon War was finished. To hold the one most important close again.

Unbeknownst to him, a single tear slips down your face as you begin to revel in the new identity you gave yourself. Pain will continue to surge through your veins but you could care less.

If Morax was happy, you will continue to be happy for him.

For you are Guizhong, the God of Dust. Lover of Morax.

I love you, Morax.

And I love you too, Guizhong...

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[ghostdrew22]

More || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Pregnancy, miscarriage, some swearing, a bit of angst and so much flufffff

WORDS : 2786

~~~

Song - More by Halsey

“A couple years of waiting rooms“

“They told me it's useless, there's no hope in store But somehow I just want you more“

“I sit and I stare at your clothes in the drawer I cry and my knuckles get sore 'Cause I still believe it won't be like before“

“And nothing could stop me from giving a try I've loved you for all of my life“

~~~

“I’m sorry to tell you this but, you’ve lost the baby.” Dean Thomas- Head Healer in the pediatric and maternal division of St Mungo’s- says to Y/N and Draco Malfoy as they both sit in silence in his office.

“Do you know why this keeps happening?” You ask- barely able to blurt the words out without sobbing.

“I’m afraid not- Y/N, you just might not be able to have children.”

Draco tenses and draws in a breath- “That’s outrageous, isn’t there something you can do?”

You notice his frustration and place your hand on his thigh to calm him down- even though a sea of rage and grief is currently flowing through you as well. You’d always thought that you’d be a mother by now- your own having easily given birth to three children by age 32- and yet here you are, eight tries and four miscarriages later.

“We’ve tried everything…” Healer Thomas sighs and offers you both a solemn look. “It’s beyond our control.”

“So now what?” You rasp- tears tugging at your throat with every word.

“Honestly? Just keep trying.”

“You said that to us a year and a half ago.” Draco grits out.

“That was when I thought I could help- it seems that I overestimated my own abilities.”

“That’s unprofessional.”

“I know, I apologise.” Healer Thomas sits up in his chair, “Cases like this are so rare- I didn’t think it was this serious.”

“That was your fault then.”

“It was, I know… Look, adoption is always an option if Y/N can’t-“

“There’s nothing wrong with my wife, so don’t phrase that sentence like there is.”


“I’m not, I’m jus-“

“You don’t think she’s having a hard enough time without your two cents?”

“Draco, it’s oka-“ You start- wanting to calm him down but he’s already fuming and there’s nothing you can say that will help.

“No Y/N, it isn’t- he can’t condemn you for something that you can’t help, especially when it’s his job to find a way to make this easier for you.” Draco gets out of his chair and pulls you out of yours as well before turning to Healer Thomas once more. “You’re a right knob, you know that?”

You send Healer Thomas an apologetic eye as your husband turns on his heels and walks you both out of the office. Once you’re back in the busy hospital hallway you turn to face him with a huff- ready to have a go at him for being so rude- but before you know it he’s pulled you into his chest and you’re sighing into his arms.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Draco…” You whisper into his chest and start to pull away slowly, “But-“

“Don’t ask me to apologise, I won’t do it.” He says adamantly as he crosses his arms like an angry toddler. “He was being an arsehole and he let us down- after months and hundreds of galleons.”

“So you’re angry about the money?” You raise your eyebrows at your husband who rolls his eyes and lowers his arms so that he can grasp your hands in his own.

“You know that I don’t give a shit about the money- I only care about you and you’ve been crying yourself to sleep over this crap for months, I’m sick and tired of having to watch you blame and hate yourself for something that isn’t your fault. I understand what he was saying but he should’ve picked his words better, there’s nothing wrong with you and I don’t want you to continuously feel like there is.”

“But then why-“

“I don’t know why Y/N. I’d do anything to find an answer for you- I’d do anything for us to start our family right now and you know that. But we clearly have a mountain ahead of us and I need you to believe in yourself if we’re going to climb it, yeah?”

“…” You look up at your husband in silence for a second- observing the look of hope consuming his features- “Yeah.”

“Good. Now we’re going to go home-“

“We have dinner at Harry’s-“

“We’re going to go home.” He repeats- indicating that it isn’t up for discussion and you nod slowly in agreement. “I’ll run you a bath and while you enjoy it, I’ll cook your favourite. Then after dinner we cuddle on the couch and eat ice cream.”

“And Harry’s?”

“I’ll owl him and let him know that we can’t make it this week cause we’re sick.”

You sigh and nod. Draco grabs your hand in his and pulls out his wand to apparate you back home. He fulfills his promises and cancels dinner with the Potter’s- deciding that it would be too difficult to sit through dinner while mini Harry and Ginny’s crawl around the floor. You snuggle into the couch instead to watch Disney movies in silence- trying not to think about how empty your house on the cul-de-sac is without the sound of tiny feet scraping against the floor.

~~~

“Well?” You raise your eyes to your husband as he eyes the muggle pregnancy test in his hands.

He sighs and shakes his head- turning behind him to drop the contraption into the bin and wash his hands.

“I’m broken.” You mumble and drop your head into your hands as you sit on the closed toilet- cursing yourself for thinking that it would be different this time.

“You’re not broken Y/N.” Draco chuckles and makes his way onto his knees so that he can look up at you. “It’s hard getting pregnant.”

“Not for everyone else.” You say exasperatedly and bring your head up to look him in the eyes as he kneels below you. “Ginny and Hermione and Luna are popping out children like it’s a bloody competition.”

“You’re not any of them.” He cups your face in his hands, “And the Weasley’s have genes like rabbits- don’t compare yourself to them.”

“I’d like to have genes like that.” You mumble and pout at him which makes him roll his eyes.

“You want to have genes like that? Then what- you produce the next era of the Weasley clan?”

You giggle and shake your head at him.

“Exactly love.” He plops a kiss on your forehead and releases your face to stand up.

“You know what sucks?” He hums in response as an indication for you to continue, “I keep thinking that it’ll be different next time. We order new clothes, we make plans for the nursery, we start to plan our lives around this baby that we’re so sure that we’re going to have and then every time it doesn’t work out. And every time, I love this baby that we don’t have, even more.”

“I know, it’s like the yearning just makes your heart bigger to hold more love for them.”

“Yes, exactly!” You exclaim with a sigh, “What are we going to do?”

“I was thinking…” Draco starts nervously- fiddling with his fingers- “Maybe we should expand our horizons beyond St Mungo’s.”

You look up as he towers above you and raise your eyebrows at him in questioning, “Expand them to what?”

“Muggles- gynecologists.”

You draw in a breath and observe the look on his face- taking note of how serious and thoughtful he appears to be. “I don’t kn-“

“Look, I’ve already found a few that are willing to meet with us.” He puts his hand out for you to grab, “Let’s just have a sit down with them, hear what they have to say and decide whether or not it’s worth a try afterwards. Yeah?” He asks you with his eyebrows raised.

You process his words and nod slowly- agreeing with reluctance- as you clasps his hand in your own and hoist yourself up off the toilet. “We can hear them out.”

“Thank you love.” He whispers and brings you into him for a kiss.

~~~

“We’ve met with some muggle doctors that say they can help us.” Draco replies to parents as he takes your hand and smiles nervously- worried about how his parents will take the news.

“But we’re probably not going to do it.” You whisper in addition quickly and look down at your plate of food- much to Draco’s dismay as he sends you a disappointed look.

“Why not?” Narcissa furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “Don’t you want children?”

“Yes…” You mumble and look up to glance at your in-laws, “But I don’t know if muggle medicine is the best option.”

“No one said it was the best option,” Narcissa starts as she offers you a smile, “But it’s an option.”

“Which is better than nothing, Y/N.” Lucius finishes for his wife and gives you a soft look of encouragement.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Draco responds quietly- squeezing your hand in an effort to comfort your nerves.

“But what’s the likelihood of muggle doctors fixing the problem when our own best and brightest, can’t?” You choke out- tears starting to claw their way up your throat.

Lucius begins with a sigh, “A muggles perspective might grant some clarity.”

“Look, how about you give it a try, and if it doesn’t work then you keep looking?” Narcissa beams and you feel a wave of relief wash over you at the overwhelming support of your husband and his parents.

If this had been your own parents they would’ve ridiculed you for being unable to naturally produce a child and completely shunned the idea of using medical assistance- let alone muggle medicine- to get pregnant.

“Okay.” You sigh and smile- your hand squeezing Draco’s back and dragging a smile from him. “We’ll try it.”

~~~

“Well?” You asks Draco as you sit on the closed toilet. It’s been three months since that night at the Malfoy Manor when you agreed to use muggle medicine- the very next morning you went back to meet doctor Kiran who got you started on a treatment plan immediately- and this is the first test you’ve taken since.

“I’d like to point out that these are a bit dehumanising- is there no better way than to piss on a stick?” Draco mumbles as he pulls the test out of the container he’d dropped it into after you’d taken it.

“Draco!”

“Hmm?” He looks back at you.

“Focus.”

“Oh! Yeah.” He chuckles nervously and brings up the test so that he can read the results. “Y/N…” He starts solemnly and you look down at the ground and sigh immediately in disappointment.

“This is bullshit.”


“It really is.” Draco breathes out as a smile creeps out onto his face, “I don’t think seven months is nearly enough time to come up with the perfect dad joke.”

“What?” You look up at him suddenly- hope glistening in your eyes- and see that he’s got the brightest smile on his face.

“You’re two months along Y/N.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” You respond with a smile- unable to contain the excitement you’re feeling.

“On my life- both tests are positive.” He says as he hands them both to you so that you can see the ‘+’ and ‘2’ written in bright red on the sticks. “We’re going to have a baby.” He breathes out.

“We’re going to have a baby!” You exclaim as you jump off the seat and into your husband’s arms.

~~~

“I’m delighted to introduce you to your daughter.” Dean Thomas exclaims in excitement as he brings the new addition to the Malfoy family in to the room after she’s been cleaned up. “You did really well Y/N, a true champ.” He pats your shoulders as the nurses hand you your daughter.

“That’s my wife.” Draco watches you endearingly as you hold your newborn.

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be more help before.”

“Don’t worry about it- we figured it out.” Draco says with a smile on his face.

“I’m really happy for you both- you deserve this.” Dean utters as he pats Draco on the back.

“Thank you… for everything.” Dean nods at Draco.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Dean says as he makes his way out of the hospital room so that you can be alone.

“Come look at her, Dray.” You rasp out- your voice still raw from all the yelling you were doing only hours before during the delivery- and Draco swiftly makes his way to your side so that he can pick up his daughter.

“Ew, we’re crying.” You say in mock disgust as you note that tears are falling from both you and your husband’s faces.

“This is disgustingly cheesy.” Draco chuckles as he lifts one hand from underneath the baby to wipe the tears off of your face.

Weeks of long nights spent in muggle hospital rooms and copious amounts of medication finally paid off- you have your beautiful daughter, to hold and to love, right in front of you. It almost feels too good to be true.

“Can we please meet our grandchild now?” Narcissa asks excitedly as her and Lucius walk in beaming. Draco nods at them with a laugh and brings his daughter toward his parents for them to hold her.

“Here’s your granddaughter.”

“She’s perfect.” Lucius chokes out as he stares down at the bundle of blankets in his arms- feeling a wave of happiness wash over him that is similar to the one he felt at his own son’s birth. “She has Y/N’s eyes.”

“And Draco’s face.” Narcissa whispers with adoration- love washing over her features completely. “Congratulations my love.” She utters as she moves away from the baby and goes to catch her son in a hug- who still has a few tears running down his face.

“Thank you mother.” He whispers into her shoulder.

“And Y/N.” Narcissa walks toward you with a smile so bright it could blind the heavens, “I’m so happy for you darling.”

“Thank you Narcissa- for everything.” You breathe out with a smile as you melt into the warmth and affection of Narcissa’s arms. “We wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if it wasn’t for your support.”

“What is family for?” Lucius perks up from his spot next to Draco with a chuckle- handing the baby back to his son so that he can also hug you. “You did good.”

“I tried.” You chuckle back into his embrace.

“You succeeded, exceptionally.”

“Will there be any more?” Narcissa asks with a smile as she cooes at her granddaughter that she’s holding in her arms- already imaging all of the ways in which she can spoil the child rotten and clasp her love as the favourite grandparent.

You and Draco catch each other’s eyes and smile- already knowing the answer.

~~~

“You’ll never catch me alive!” A small voice says before a body jumps onto the bed and lands above the blankets beside you- startling you awake suddenly.

You shuffle about in the bed- feeling that something above the covers is weighing them down and making it difficult for you to shift them around- and finally peer your head out of the blankets in defeat.

“Oh look, it’s my little chocolate frog.” You exclaim once the fog of sleep wears off and you can see your daughter peering down at you with a bright smile.

“Hi mum.” She giggles out as she moves to climb beneath the covers with you.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m running away from dad.”

“Wh-“

“I thought we agreed that we’re letting mum sleep, peanut?” Draco cuts you off as he stands in the doorway and questions his daughter with furrowed eyebrows- his toddler son trailing on all fours behind him.

“That deal was cancelled.”

“Why?”

“You know what you did.” She mumbles menacingly as she glares softly at her father.

“What did you do, Draco?” You asks from the bed with a laugh.

“I tried to give her a bath.” He deadpans in amusement and you laugh back.

“I’m beyond cleanliness!” Your daughter exclaims in response, “Besides, I thought mum could use some cuddles.”

“I do love cuddles, Dray.” You replies very seriously- even though there’s a huge smile plastered on your lips.

“Well, might as well give her what she wants.” Draco chuckles as he reaches down to carry your 14 month old son off the ground and walks toward the bed to join his two favourite girls. “Happy mother’s day, Y/N.”

Draco settles into the bed- putting his son in first so that both children are sandwiched inbetween you two- and leans over the kids to place a kiss on your lips. Your little display of affection earns a disgusted groan from your daughter and you both pull away with amused expressions.

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims in excitement as he climbs over his sister and lands on your lap.

“Hi bubba.” You giggle and place a kiss on his forehead. He smiles cheekily and tries to recite the words he’d been rehearsing with Draco only minutes before.

“Happy mommy day.”

“Thank you, bubba.”

“I hope you love us because we’re the reason it’s your day.” Your daughter adds in a matter-of-fact tone that has both you and Draco laughing.

“Oh angel,” You finally breathe out with a smile, “I’ve loved you for all of my life.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,185 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of suicide, gore, sexuality, fear and anxiety, disturbing imagery, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Someone dies and Daryl finally learns about Y/N's past.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Where ya goin’?” Daryl’s voice behind you as you headed to the gate, your recurve bow slung over your shoulder.

“Hunting,” you said. You’d been reserved since Hilltop and Daryl was worried.

He shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. “Huntin’ what?”

You caught his meaning and sighed. “Food. I promise.”

He nodded and paced closer to you. “Good. Look, if ya want to go out and hunt them, I’ll go with ya. Ya shouldn’t do it alone.”

You nodded. “Been doing it alone a long time now,” you countered. “But I won’t today.”

Daryl nodded. That was about as good a response as he could hope for. “Alright.”

“Where are you off to?” you asked, noting the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Denise found a place she thinks might have meds. She asked Rosita and I to go with.”

Your stomach twisted suddenly and you felt unbalanced. You didn’t know why… it sounded like a routine supply trip. But eventually you shoved the feeling down and nodded. “Alright. Be careful…”

“Ya. We will. You too, alright?” Daryl wished he was brave enough in that moment to—to do or say something more. He could sense that whatever had happened to you, whatever you knew about the Saviors, it was eating you. It had been since Hilltop, and likely even before, probably since the run-in with those men when he was laid up with his ankle. That time when you hadn’t been able to sleep and he had stayed at your house… And he wished he knew how to lift that burden, how to make it stop or at least lighter, but until you were ready to talk about it there wasn’t much he could do.

You came back that evening with a deer. The gates rolled open to admit you and you headed toward home. That’s when you saw the crowd gathered on the porch of Rick’s house, but something was wrong. No one was talking and their expressions were grave.

You felt your stomach lurch. You slung the deer down onto your porch and started walking over. Daryl broke off and met you halfway. You gulped at the tightness in your throat. He looked pale. “What’s going on?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes and he was chewing his bottom lip anxiously, drumming his fingers against his leg. “Denise,” he croaked, the gravel in his voice even thicker than usual.

You looked up, and the fact that everyone was gathered at Rick’s house and not outside the infirmary made what had happened clear. You felt like you’d been punched in the stomach. Your chest heaved with terrified breaths. “No… H—How?” you whispered.

“That guy with the girls I helped in that burnt-out forest, the ones who ended up fuckin’ me over, takin’ my bike and my bow… He’s one of them now.”

Your eyes narrowed. “The Saviors?” you asked in an undertone, your heart starting to race.

He nodded, finally lifting his blue eyes to yours. “Shot her with my crossbow right in front of us. Right—right in front of me.”

Your eyes glistened with emotion you were trying to hold back. “Oh God. No. No, no, no…” You were reeling. Your wide eyes had an unseeing quality.

Daryl gulped, speaking what was consuming him, a rasp in his throat as he fought emotion. “It’s my fault. I should have killed him. I should’ve made Denise stay back. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” you said forcefully, gently resting your hand on his arm. You stepped forward to look up into his face, which was now contorted with some emotion. “It’s not. Don’t do that.”

“It is. She wasn’t ready and I—I should have known they were there. We shoulda been more careful, not out in the open. I—It’s my fault,” he rasped.

You shook you head, holding his blue eyes. “No. It’s not. Even if you had killed him, we don’t know that anything would turn out differently. We don’t get to know. So, you have to stop.”

“I’m goin’ back tomorrow. I’m gonna track ‘em.” His grief and regret were turning into rage quickly.

“Daryl—”

“I’m goin’. He’s a dead man,” he growled.

Your eyes were wide and fearful. “Please, listen to me. Just wait. We can do this, but we have to be smart about it.”

“What’s smart is trackin’ ‘em before their trail disappears,” he growled. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch—"

You shut your eyes, a flash of emotion on your face and Daryl softened a little at the sight. “Just—come over later. We need to talk,” you whispered. You shot him one last look, the worry line you always got by your left eyebrow quite pronounced. You turned and went back to your house to deal with the deer you had shot. Daryl watched you drag it around to the back of your house and he thought that for even the weight of the deer, your steps looked heavy.

It was already late when you heard the front door open from your seat on the couch. “Y/N?” Daryl’s deep voice.

“In here,” you called back. His boots on the wood floor came closer and he appeared in the doorway.

“Ya alright?” he asked. You shook your head.

“No. You?”

He shook his head. “Nah.” Daryl sat down on the other end of the sofa, placing his own crossbow, recovered after the scramble with the Saviors that day, on the coffee table. He could tell you had been crying earlier. Your eyes were a little red. “What is it?”

Your heart was racing and you felt like you couldn’t draw full breaths. It felt like there was a weight sitting on your chest that was keeping your lungs from filling. You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna tell you what happened to me. How I know about the Saviors.” You stared down at your hands and he heard you pull in a raspy breath. “I’ve never told anyone this…”

A shadow darkened Daryl’s face. “Alright.”

You sighed and licked your lips nervously. “I had a brother. He was two years younger than me. We were with a small group of people, holed up in some house, scraping in town for supplies. Just a group of survivors who fell together, like yours did. The Saviors showed up. They said they were going to ‘save us.’ Said we had to come with them and if we did they’d keep us safe and fed in exchange for labor. Of course, none of us trusted them. Who can you trust these days? We all knew they just wanted what we had, and maybe even just us, like commodities. We tried to fight. Almost all of us were killed and they got control of those of us who were left.” You passed a somewhat shaky hand over your eyes briefly. “Negan showed up. He executed one of our people in front of us. Bashed his head in with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and made us watch. Terrorized the rest of us. Spouted off a bunch of bullshit about how he hadn’t wanted to do it, but we had forced his hand. My brother and I survived, along with a couple of the others. They took us back to their headquarters.” You finally glanced over at Daryl and your striking eyes, looking wide and anxious, met his blue ones. “They call it The Sanctuary.”

Daryl thought of Denise, dying right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” Daryl said.

You shook your head. “I’m not even close to done.”

Daryl’s stomach hardened into a tight pit and he waited for you to go on.

“I knew right away that something was different… with me, I mean. They separated me from the group, from my brother. Shoved me in a tiny, completely dark, barren cell.” Daryl watched your brow furrow. “Just me. Alone. Sometimes I was chained up, handcuffed, sometimes I wasn’t. Every second of every day I just sat in the dark and wondered what horrible thing was going to happen to me the next minute. I didn’t understand why I’d been singled out at first, except maybe that I’d fought the longest. I didn’t know if my brother was alive or dead…” Your eyes grew faraway, detached, and Daryl felt like someone had twisted a knife in his stomach. You went on. “The isolation and hunger was bad enough but they had more in their playbook. They purposely kept me awake for days at a time—lights, loud music. Some real Guantanamo Bay shit. I lost track of time. I thought I was going crazy after a while. It was obvious they were trying to break me. And then one day, he came.”

“Negan?” Daryl asked. You nodded.

“He told me I’d paid enough for trying to fight. That he understood why I had and that I had a few choices in front of me. I could eventually die in that cell, I could work, or…” you trailed off and shut your eyes for a moment. “He told me he thought I was…different. That I was tough, brave because of how I was during the fight and after. He said he’d—he’d taken a special liking to me and said I could marry him, be one of his wives, and live the way we did before the world fell apart. All I had to do was take care of him and his wants and needs and he’d take care of me.”

Daryl was staring at you with a scowl on his face, his stomach twisting at your words. His eyes were narrowed and he was so still he looked frozen. Anger was boiling in his chest. You gulped, hoping to clear your throat but weren’t successful.

“I asked him if my brother was alive and he said yes. I told him I’d work. I just wanted to be with my brother. So, I became one of the workers in The Sanctuary. You work there to earn points, which you use to ‘pay’ for food and whatever else you need, but it’s never enough. It’s slave labor where every once and a while they throw you a peanut. Conditions are terrible. And after a while, my brother and I were both almost wishing we were dead. But at least we were still together.” You settled back more deeply into the couch and sighed. “Negan rules with an iron fist. If someone tries to escape, someone steals, screws up at all…” Your face contorted as you thought about what you’d watched him do. “I’ve watched him do the most—inhuman, horrendous things... unfathomable. I watched him burn people with a hot iron, brand people, beat people to death for not following his orders perfectly… And his men? They’ll do the same things in his name, some of them worse. The whole place is guarded, patrolled, locked down like a fortress. But more than anything it’s the fear that keeps people there… And I was trapped in it because all I wanted to do was keep my brother alive and for us to stay together.”

You stopped for a moment and Daryl watched as you tried to steel yourself to go on.

“It was like that for a while. We were practically starving, always just waiting for the next thing, the next trauma. And then I got sick… Very sick.” Your eyes flitted up to meet his. “A blood infection. I was dying. And they’ve got a doctor, medicine, but if you use them you owe more than you could ever pay—and that means they own you even more than they already did. It’s just leverage to them. My brother—” your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment and Daryl could hear you pull in a few slow but ragged breaths. “He tried to steal some antibiotics. To save me. And he got caught.”

You were silent for a long moment, trying to stop yourself from crying. Daryl just waited, feeling sick to his stomach, feeling enraged, wanting to tell you it was going to be okay, but knowing he couldn’t... Nothing he could say was going to fix whatever you were about to tell him. He knew that.

“I ended up in the infirmary anyway. I don’t even know how. I had been so delirious with fever and I can’t remember a lot from around then… But when I was better, eventually, Negan came to see me again. He told me they were going to make an example of my brother. He broke the rules and Negan couldn’t have people thinking you could get away with that. I knew what that meant. Negan would kill him horrifically. In front of me and everyone else.” Despite what you were saying, your voice was somewhat detached. It was like you were on autopilot as you explained, like you had told the story in your head a million times and were just replaying through it. Daryl thought you probably were.

“But he gave me another—another choice,” you said. Your tone conveyed that it was presented as a choice, but there was no refusing. “His offer still stood. If I ‘married’ him and became one of his wives, he’d spare my brother’s life and erase all of our debts.” Just saying the words made you feel sick and Daryl watched as you reached a hand out to clutch onto the arm of the couch as if you were spinning and needed grounding. “What could I do?” you asked, turning to look at Daryl again, your eyes frantic, devastated, shining with tears that you were barely containing. “I just thought—‘I need to keep him alive.’ That’s—that’s all I could think and I would deal with the rest of it later.” You opened your mouth to continue speaking but the words wouldn’t come out and your gaze at Daryl was desperate until you couldn’t look at him any longer.

“Hey,” he said. “Ya had to. S’alright. Ya didn’t have a choice.” He moved closer to you and was brave enough to gently lift your chin so you would look at him again, and the glistening in your eyes hit him like a punch. “Ya had to,” he said gently.

You nodded, shrugging vaguely. “I agreed. And Negan didn’t kill my brother but he cut off his hand in front of me and everyone else.” Your jaw clenched and you shut your eyes against the flashbacks.

Daryl stared at you in horror as you took a breath, trying to hold yourself together enough to continue. His face was growing darker and darker as you told the story.

“But we went on. He worked for points and I—” You couldn’t even speak of it. “For a while, that’s how it was.” You were suddenly silent and Daryl felt yet another twist in his stomach, apprehension about what was coming. You continued, your voice disconnected again. “And then one day Negan came in and told me that my brother—” you gritted your teeth against another wave of emotion. “My brother killed himself.”

You hurried on, afraid you wouldn’t be able to get anything else out if you didn’t rush through it.

“And the thing is—” your voice broke, “even that he didn’t do for himself. He didn’t do it because he was miserable there or because he couldn’t go on.” Your bottom lip quivered. “He did it because he knew that while he was there, alive, I wouldn’t leave. If he was alive, I wouldn’t try to escape. He killed himself to save me, to give me the option to get out.”

Daryl felt a sinking emptiness in the middle of his chest. For a moment he just sat still and watched as you struggled not to go entirely to pieces, but he couldn’t allow you to reel the way you were any longer. “C’mere,” he said gently. He enfolded you in his arms and you sank in against him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He could feel your shuddering breaths and he held you tighter to him, his heart racing, feeling sick waves of horror and anger. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Ya got out. You’re out. S’alright.” He smoothed a hand over your hair and down your back until you stilled somewhat. You pulled back only slightly to look up at him, your faces mere inches apart.

“Do you understand?” you whispered. “You can’t just go barreling after them, Daryl. You can’t. I—I can’t lose you.”

Daryl gulped, his eyes flickering between yours… But inside he was thinking that everything you just told him was exactly why he had to go...

“I hear ya,” he said finally. He pressed you tightly against him again, shutting his eyes and relishing the feeling of you beneath his hands, even while his mind raced. He held you for a long time, until you seemed to have calmed again. Finally, he pulled back and looked into your face. “It’s—it’s gonna be alright.”

You soaked in the reassurance of him, calmed by his deep voice, his hands gentle on your arms.

“It’s—It’s late… Ya gonna be alright if I go? M’sorry. I don’t wanna leave ya but I wanna check on everybody…” he murmured.

You nodded. “You should. It’s okay. They—they probably need you. I’ll be fine,” you said, knowing it was probably a lie. You were sure you’d have nightmares that night if you managed to sleep at all. You slipped from him the rest of the way and as you separated, he felt like you took some part of him with you.

“G’night,” he murmured, climbing to his feet and collecting his crossbow from your coffee table. As he picked it up, he couldn’t help but think about how the bolt that had killed Denise had left his bow. He should have killed that asshole when he had the chance. “Y/N. Ya should tell Rick,” he said, nodding. “Ya should. If ya can. It’d help him understand, ya know?”

You considered him for a moment. “Okay. I will,” you replied. You watched him across the kitchen as he made his way to the front door, the wings on the back of his vest catching the light differently than the leather, almost looking like they were glowing. With his hand on the handle of the front door, he glanced back at you and gave you a thoughtful look. You managed a somewhat sad smile at him, anxiety still pulling one of your brows inward, and then he disappeared outside.

[bxllafanficc]

Lady of mischief- Part five

Pairing: Loki x Greek!goddess f!reader

Summary: Asgard is having a change of power so there are several events Loki has to get right before he can announce victory against his brother as the next king. But one lady’s approval will change the whole outcome if the stakes are right. That lady is you, intended heir to the throne of Olympus but tied down to a marriage of convenience with one of the princes of Asgard. The prince you choose to marry will be the next king but you refuse to let yourself be a pawn in this game for power. Loki, with his intentions to take you as his queen has far greater reason to marry you than just for the reason of being king. You however, would rather cut off your left arm than exposing yourself for the fact that there’s another purpose besides Loki getting a throne to sit on.

One week later and you found yourself at a sea cliff on Asgard’s largest known bay. You’d brought Henna with you, just like every other day since you got officially banished. Now you couldn’t stand being in the castle and spent almost every waking hour in the city, avoiding the royal family at all cost. Odin even demanded you ate breakfast with them since you were an honored guest but of course you never showed.

Zeus left the day after the banquet and not a word from your parents. They probably didn’t even blink the second he told them their daughter had been locked in with an entire castle of self-centered gods.

“Gods are assholes!” You threw a rock at the size of a basketball into the water and glared at the splash, secretly hoping your father Poseidon would sense it and feel guilt. That was impossible, of course. A Greek god holds no power at the realm of Norse gods.

“My lady, you’re a god.” Henna stayed seated at a comfy rock she found the first day coming to the cliff. She said it was the perfect fit for her to relax her always perfect posture without sloping. You always told her you don’t care if she sloped at non-formal occasions.

“Yes, Henna. Me included.” You were just surprised she didn’t faint because you used such a mundane word, a thing you picked up from the humans on a visit once.

“I can’t stop thinking about what I said to the prince. It was a decade ago, yes, but he still remembers it. Probably thinks about it every time he sees me!” You tried to concentrate on the real reason you were here. To practice. You’d never win anyone’s respect if you couldn’t control your powers. You started with the hardest, the sea; a force that doesn’t want to be tamed.

A pulsing body of water drove up from the sea and flew in front of you. The goal was to force it into a perfect shaped globe, forcing the sea to obey so thoroughly. To your luck the liquid started obeying your wish when you put all your concentration to use. Almost a solid globe. You’d only need a few more seconds to-

“And I’ve already said you should apologize to him. Who knows, you two might hug it out and the next thing you know you wake up naked in his chambers the next day.”

The almost globe burst into millions of droplets and salt burned in your eyes at the shock. Your vision blurred out and you coughed on the water that went down your airways. Heat went to your cheeks and you looked down at your soaked clothes.

“Goodness, Henna! You’ve spent too much time with the Asgardian maids.

You can’t say stuff like that!” Your voice was still faint from the couching as you scolded her. You had to put your focus to use once again to extract the water into fine droplets hanging midair in front of you. The dress was far too pretty to get stained with saltwater. The jewelry looked surreal in the light the dress radiated. Every thread of the fabric seemed to be created of pure shining starlight or liquid diamond. The dress held the beauty of a thousand stars.

No one knew where it appeared from, however. You had your own guess, of course. It laid neatly folded on your work desk one afternoon and if it was the first born prince, he would’ve left some grand note with it as well. The dress just laid there in absence of anyone claiming the rights. An apology for sure.

“Well, you said asshole if I’m not mistaken.” There it was. Henna cleared her throat as a sign to drop the subject but you knew she had a big smirk on her lips. You didn’t want to turn around to confirm it.

“Let’s try again, my lady. Why don’t you try claiming the entire wave coming right there?”

You analyzed the wave and realized what Henna was asking. The size of it was huge and it would surely crash into the cliff side underneath you. Your job was to stop that impact and lift it up to your level.

It was dead silent as you waited for the wave to arrive. With a last big engaging try you felt the power of the sea surging through you. Blocking the impact of the wave lashing itself forwards was similar feeling to getting that same wave right in the face like a wall of bricks. But it was not in vain. The water started to rise to the cliff you stood on and you had to replace your feet for a better stance. Every second the sea threatened to leash out of your hold.

“How mighty.” A soothing voice, yet laced with viciousness, appeared only a hot breath away from your ear and you screamed.

The scent of new books hit you too late and the wave had already been unleashed on the threat behind you. The water had devided around your frame, covering Henna and Loki from head to toe in seawater without showing mercy. The sea held no mercy. Right…

A moment of silence and Loki still had his eyes tightly shut, his entire body frozen in place. He’d been less than an inch from you and you hadn’t noticed. He was still less than an inch from your bodies touching.

He slowly went to wipe one of his eyes clean of water and tasted the layer of salt glancing his lips. You cursed yourself for noticing the shameful way his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Did he take the warm weather with him somehow or why was it suddenly growing hot again? And why did he look so different with the drenched clothes hugging his frame, hair slicked back. The dripping from the each strand fell and caressed the heavy outline of his collarbones.

What were you even thinking about. He must’ve done something. A spell of some sort.

“That was unnecessary.” He said it as simple as ever and it made you grit your teeth.

Stop staring at his abs, dammit!, you thought.

It had to be a spell. This couldn’t be real.

“Why are you here?” You weren’t prepared for this. He was supposed to be on a mandatory meeting right now. Did he just right up ditch that?

“You’re no fun… I came with a proposition.”

“Of what sorts?” You eyed him with careful detail, trying to sense a trick of some sort. His gaze lingered on your appearance a little too long from what seemed appropriate. It was a thorough scan up and down and the soul behind the eyes held a strange glow. Of course he was shocked you wore the dress he bought.

“We can teach each other things. You tell me stories and history of the Ancient Greece, your kind’s gracious era and I teach you illusion magic.” He could tell your raised eyebrow was a sense of confusion. “Like, combining water and light into something entirely new. I’ll teach you how to conjure spells-“

“Like the one you’re doing now?” It just slipped out of you and it was too late to ignore. It was now his turn to look confused. The tip of his tongue came out once again to wipe off some salt and you looked away.

“What?” He asked.

“Whaaat?” You repeated along with a dumb giggle you had no idea where it came from. The already tight fabric of Loki’s shirt was riding up from the wet fabric rolling itself up. You really did try not to think about how the pearls of droplets looked like glitter in the sun on his toned stomach, but realized that you already failed. You swallowed a hot lump of dryness that caught in your throat.

So no spell then?

Loki sighed and cracked a tense muscle in his neck, a green light drying him and his clothes from bottom and up in a matter of a second (Henna remained drenched).

“Just say no quickly, there’s no reason to drag it out. I’ll leave you be when you’ve answered.” You bit your bottom lip and actually took a moment to think about it.

“Actually, it doesn’t sound too awful. But don’t you already know everything about my realm there is to know?” That earned a genuine smile from him and you thought about how that was a rare sight.

“You’d be surprised of how understocked Asgard’s library is when it comes to your history, your highness.”

“And stop calling me that! It’s weird. You never did it before so why do it now?”

“I thought you disliked me being informal.”

“Oh do shut up!”

Loki laughed and nodded in agreement. It was just then you realized how you were still inappropriately close to him and how his breath smelled of something sweet. Something brushed past your hand and Loki retracted his own with a flinch and an apologetic look.

“I’m s-“ Loki started but Henna’s loud cough and pointed glare.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“I don’t… I don’t find you disgusting.” You watched his expression and expected him to get upset but nothing in his body language seemed tense. If anything, his jaw and shoulders seemingly dropped.

“That’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” His chuckle was bright but your gut still twisted in shame.

“No but like, I don’t find your touch disgusting. I never did, actually-“ The amount of truth you entrusted this man with was almost too much. The words were so tense on the way out that you started coughing.

“Then why did you-“

“I don’t know! No more questions though. All I know is that it was far from unpleasant and that’s all you need to know for now.” Loki raised his eyebrow, lips slightly parted. You understood you’d talked before your brain caught up with you again.

“No, that came out wrong. But you know what I mean!” Your hands fiddled on the edges of the dress, only to flatten out the fabric right after. The dry lump just couldn’t seem to go down.

“Oh I sure do… And I agree with you on how we speak to each other. I hate speaking to you formally! It doesn’t sit right for me especially. Then I wouldn’t be able to say the stuff I actually want.”

“Like what?” You regretted asking immediately but couldn’t bring yourself to step back as he leaned in.

Lips brushed against your earlobe and his scent was all up in your world, along with the surreal warmth that always seemed to follow him.

“That dress looks absolutely ravishing on you, (Y/n). I never thought you’d wear it to be honest. We’re you really planning on fleeing the castle on such an occasion and not letting me see any of the beauty?” His voice turned low again and the always present rasp seemed extra present today.

The dry lump finally went down.

“You could’ve gifted it to someone else if you wanted to see the dress on an actual body instead of a hanger.”

A low rumbling came from his chest and erupted in his throat. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was a chuckle.

“See, I don’t think that’s true. Yes, any person could wear it, but I can’t think of anyone else who could wear one of the most beautiful things crafted ever and the most beautiful thing in the room would still remain the person in it.”

You couldn’t move your body. It was frozen in place even though the blood in your veins was literally boiling. You were almost thankful that he was so close. That way he wouldn’t see your red cheeks.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Why would I lie about it? Meet me in the library tomorrow after breakfast. I look forward to our time together.”

(A/N: Hi! Don’t hesitate to comment on each chapter what you thought about it/if you liked it since that keeps me motivated to keep writing. Also reblog so my story reaches a wider audience, if you really liked it! Your support is much appreciated. Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series. Have a good day, lovelies!)

Find the other parts in my MASTERLIST

Tag list: @liffydaze

@queen-of-mischief

@girl-obsessed-with-things

@obsessivelysearching

@reverse-iak

@perpetually-exhausted-and-tired

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[yeolmae-s]

a chanbaek analysis from a veteran exo-l

before anything else there are a few disclaimers i'd like to make:

i am writing this analysis right now because as a non exo stan i'm not into chanbaek that much anymore. of course i like them to some degree since i'm writing this and all but it's nothing in comparison to the way i felt about them two years ago. so i feel like it's easier to keep a less clouded (?) state of mind being where i'm at right now, mentally, in regards to them. i feel like i can look at things more objectively, which is why i decided to write this and share it with you all.

for all the smart asses out there, this is a ship analysis. yes, i’m reading too much into everything. that’s what an analysis is.

all translation credits goes to @/fyeah-chanyeol

i'm a chanyeol stan. this analysis will, most likely, have more information about him in comparison to baekhyun. this is simply because i consumed more content about him since he's my bias (such as magazine interviews, fancams).

i don't stan exo anymore, but it's not because of anything they did. i liked them for a long time and made a lot of different friends because of this fandom, therefore i experienced a lot of hurt, scandals, fights and didn't deal very well with many things, so i decided to leave. this didn't happen because of exo themselves and neither did it happen because of the fandom itself. it happened because of the relationships i had.

that being said, i haven't been following them closely for the past year and a half, but i still keep up with stuff a bit, although not chanbaek related stuff since i gotta dive in kinda deeper for that lmao. so this analysis is mostly in depth for 2012-2018. if anything that you perceive as significant happened after 2018 i'm more than willing to hear your opinions about it.

so, let's get started!!

MAMA ERA

I have always felt like Chanyeol and Baekhyun's relationship was strange. I started shipping them when they debuted and more specifically because of the 130128 ISAC. When I was younger I didn't see a lot to discuss in their ISAC interactions besides it being cute and shippy, but I've started to look at it differently now.

I think everyone knows how ISAC is known for being basically a stage for fanservice. The whole "dating ground for idols" issue aside, judging from the amount of attention they direct towards the fans who manage to attend the event, idols are clearly instructed to perform fanservice. EXO's first ISAC had to be full of it, obviously, and they did give fans a lot to be happy about, content we still get giddy about to this day, and I'm sure they were instructed to act like this to please us. I don't believe that fanservice equals "false interactions": if two individuals are talking, touching each other, they are interacting, even if it is a carefully planned setting made specifically for pleasing fans. They still get reactions out of one another through these interactions, it is still relevant to the way these people's relationship will develop; even though these acts are done with the intent of pleasing a crowd.

Don't get me wrong, though. I don't think the 2013 ISAC fanservice changed anything in Chanbaek's relationship. In fact, I just want to use it as a way to illustrate something I will explain later on.

To be remembered in an industry you must have an image. You won't be getting anywhere without a carefully constructed visual image. Marilyn Monroe is always used as an example of this: she's someone you can easily make a costume of and people will instantly recognize it as her. She's basically a concept by now: blonde hair, red lips and white hair. These aspects take our mind back to her instantly. Of course, most celebrities don't achieve this type of icon status, but it is still important to cling to a specific concept/image of what you want your celebrity self to be perceived as. Without this, you'll be forgotten as soon as your career ends.

When Chanyeol debuted, he clung to the first trait they gave him: being a happy person, a.k.a "happy virus". If you were not an EXO fan back in 2013 then it's likely you're not even aware of this nickname that was given to him, but it's basically just what it sounds like (lol). He was bright, energetic, had a "teeth rich" smile (another nickname that was given to him back then), was able to give 10/10 laughter reactions to MCs and to his members jokes, was always enthusiastic to interact and smile towards fans. He even introduced himself as "happy virus Chanyeol" in interviews (and later on that changed to "EXO's voice Chanyeol" or "EXO's rapper Chanyeol").

I feel like Chanyeol was very much aware of this "must have" that I mentioned, this need to have an image pasted into yourself and have that image be what people will remember you as. We're all complex and multifaceted individuals, but the general public needs something simple to grab on to, something easy to remember. That happy guy from EXO? I know who he is! I'm sure this is the path Chanyeol chose, back when he debuted: to pick a trait given to you by the public and make it a huge part of your image.

However, that image of him didn't last very long. It certainly became tiring to worry so much about how he was being perceived, to carefully construct something so his career would last, specially when his group had so many scandals and went through a sudden burst of popularity that changed their lives completely. By 2017, Chanyeol already had a change of mind in relation to his career, these changes being mostly due to how he felt about music and what he wanted to do with it.

He recognized himself as having always being impatient, which might be the reason why he clung to a specific image so fast right after debuting:

From Fall Magazine in 2017

"At the moment I just want to enjoy myself with the music as it comes, without feeling as though I have to do something. It isn’t a greed from impatience, I could call it more of a greed to do better."

"When I first debuted I thought I was very optimistic, but as time has passed I think a more reserved side of me is showing."

"I think I've grown in many ways. Maybe it’s because it’s as though I perform everyday, but the stage has become comfortable for me. Shall we say I’ve become more calm and composed? [...] I think I’ve become more mature."

He matured. He's still bright and energetic but he's also more reserved. He managed to keep up the fanservice that his fans adore in a way that is more fitting to his actual personality. It still is an image, but an image that's not as exhausting as his previous one, with its strict demands to act in a certain way all the time. I remember specific interview with MCs demanding him to smile (although jokingly, of course) saying things like "Aren't you EXO's happy virus?", so I'm sure he felt pressured.

This is interesting to think about when put side by side with his relationship with Baekhyun. Back when they debuted, Chanyeol and Baekhyun were close friends that clearly felt comfortable with each other, and it isn't surprising to think that Baekhyun would be Chanyeol's first pick when he thought about doing fanservice with someone. Of course, I can't exactly pinpoint their first fanservice moment since I'm not a walking EXO encyclopedia anymore, but I can say with certainty that both of them felt like it worked as soon as they first tried it with the fans, and that's the reason why they kept doing it. Conveniently, they were both good friends, so all was good.

Until well, it wasn't.

At some point, Chanyeol's interactions with Baekhyun seemed too eager for Baekhyun himself. There are various moments where this is visible, such as this one:

Why are you grabbing my wrist out of nowhere young man........

Or...

That one pic where Jongdae, who was in front of them, looked so damn uncomfortable I can't even bring myself to google it

Of course, they had some over the top fanservice that did work out pretty well, such as this one, both of them imitating Jonghyun's and Taemin's Internet War stage, which seems a little scripted now that I look at it properly, with Baekhyun seemingly expecting Chanyeol to do whatever it is that he did on that day. (Can you imagine this: both of them backstage, watching Jonghyun's and Taemin's performance in silence, and one of them just blurts out "We should do that too!". What the fuck was going on)

By the way, if you have never seen the original Internet War performance, you can watch it here.

This is what they were imitating.

Tumblr won’t let me upload the gifs for this moment for some reason, so here and here.

You can't tell me Baekhyun wasn't expecting it already, lol.

Now, know what this moment reminds me of? ISAC. On their Internet War imitation moment, Baekhyun seemed fine, playful, even, agreeing. During ISAC, however, doing basically the same thing again (this time on a lighter way even; since they weren't, you know. Imitating a strong performance such as Internet War.), he appears reluctant. It's a bit painful to watch.

What changed? The ISAC event happened a few months after the SMTOWN concert where they did the Internet War thing, so what made things become so different?

If this has enough likes I’ll make a second part!

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: Dan Reacts to His Old Videos

Date video was published: 01/12/2015 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 256

Dan’s first video of 2015.

0:07 - I actually think he does want to look back and reflect a bit, but he’s  covering that with a joke. 

0:18 - wow, old YouTube. Also, why did young Dan like brown so much? ...the walls of his bedroom, this...it’s not really a common color to like I don’t think. His little paint drawing of himself is adorable though.

0:31 - also, 4668 subscribers after just three videos!

0:40 - obviously he has to start with HELLO INTERNET.

0:42 - immediate pause. One of my favorite bits of DNP trivia is that Phil plays this to annoy/wind up Dan. I love that so much.

1:08 - Dan’s already cringing and past-him hasn’t even said anything yet

1:23 - lol at the comment on the long jump cut. It is really noticeable after being used to today’s editing but not THAT bad.

1:27 - he does look so different!

1:43 - he’s laughing at himself so much! This is great though; you really can see that “thinking” look when he points it out.

2:04 - I love him talking about his original filming set up. “that perfect downwards MySpace angle” ...too real.

2:20 - this acknowledgement in a video of Phil’s contribution to him starting YouTube. Around the end of 2014/here really was movement into a new era of DNP.

2:45 - young Dan having to keep so many secrets 😕

2:52 - great spelling there. Also, this is such a Phil-like thing to focus in on during editing.

3:06 - ahahaha, there’s self-aware Dan

3:14 - no, don’t stop the hand heart! It’s adorable.

3:28 - awww, no Dan.

3:36 - BUTTERFINGERS time. You can tell he’s not as embarrassed by this one even before he starts.

3:40 - I really would love to know how much pre-planning he did for his channel before he actually started making videos. Every time he talks about it, it seems that he had thought about it and planned it out a lot.

3:56 - he’s more proud of this one!

4:05 - laughing at the editing is reasonable, lol

4:10 - awww, actor Dan! I’m glad he seems proud of that too.

4:19 - oh, he skipped over a lot of the center-part of that one. Hand heart again!

4:28 - think that moved it into the cringe category for himself

4:31 - next up is Procrastination. He sounds excited about this one.

4:38 - lol at his face at the “yo” intro 😂

4:52 - this one he still feels is true!

4:55 - his commentary on this shirtless scene...”exposing myself for views”

5:04 - awww, Dan. He should be proud of himself.

5:25 - love this behind-the-scenes story. I would love for DNP to watch more old videos and talk about behind-the-scenes from filming them stories. Like when we found out this Easter baking almost made them late for a flight.

5:45 - this mental image is hysterical

6:01 - “bullshit profound conclusions” I love self-aware Dan so very much.

6:13 - and then the self-aware annotations on top of it 😂

6:24 - and it’s okay for people to do that! Like when Dan did decide to go unlist/private quite a bit of stuff in 2017 (none of the videos mentioned in this one though). Or Phil unlisting LessAmazingPhil stuff now.

6:49 - New Years Resolution Fail. lol at him not wanting to comment on this one. But he has started running in 2015!

7:07 - “this doesn’t need to be in the video” but it is!

7:30 - both DNP are so excited to be able to talk about at least one project at this point (while they continue to keep the book and show a secret)

7:31 - wow, “Phil and I” actually. Phil talked about this in his last video too. They went to see it later in the month, met Baymax, and saw that they were in the credits!

7:42 - “not the stars of a new movie about two gay princes....unfortunately.” 👀

8:08 - lol at the “you have two lines”

I really love this video. It’s nice that Dan took a look back at his start on YouTube as he heads into a sort of “new era” of content with TABINOF/TATINOF. 

A few days after this, DNP hung out with Cat when she was visiting London (1, 2), then did some work behind-the-scenes for the Brit Awards nominations show (1, 2, 3).

[childrenofthenightt]

That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

---------

3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out.  “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream.  Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

[angstymarauder]

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

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Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

[blanknamed]

trial and error pt. 2 [senku x reader]

NOT ME FORGETTING TO POST CHAPTER TWO LMAOOO SORRY HERE IT IS THO

SHIPPING: SENKU X READER

PREMISE: [Name] had always known Senku was a little bit of an oddball but that’s what made him so interesting to her as children. Now in the Stone World, he’s only even more interesting what with his claims about shooting up to a million years worth of technology back, but some things never change with him; specifically on the concept of love. As a way to get him to think about it as something other than “disgusting feelings” she proposes for him to think of it differently, though it seems to be going in a direction she never expected.

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE

{–*–}

CHAPTER TWO: CONTEMPLATION

How did I get myself into this situation? [Name] asked herself desperately, watching Ruri shuffle around her hut, staring at the dresses given by the village women lined up neatly on the floor. She held up a blue dress [Name]’s way, who only stared at the shortened skirt. Just the look alone was enough for Ruri to understand that she didn’t like it, causing her to giggle at the reaction.

“You don’t seem to be happy about this even though you were the one who gave Senku the idea.” Ruri stated as she kneeled behind her to start braiding [Name]’s unruly hair.

“Just because I gave him the idea doesn’t mean I wanted to be his little test subject.” [Name] groaned. An unreadable look passed Ruri as she watched the younger girl’s growing discomfort. If she was even more redder, she would’ve matched what she had looked like a few hours ago.

“Huh?” [Name] asked as she stared at Senku, who only looked at her pointedly. Quickly, blood rushed on every part of her face as she started stutter. “Wha--I--you did not just say what I thought I heard you say.”

“What part did you not understand?” Senku asked dismissively, talking as if he hadn’t just asked out his childhood friend on a date. “I might as well take you on one to get good feedback. No one else gives any as specifc as you.”

Feedback.

Feedback.

The word kept repeating in [Name]’s head, almost making her dizzy. What did she expect, though? She told him, a scientist, to treat it like an experiment. Test a hypothesis. She was pretty sure he only wanted to take her in particular because (1) he wanted good feedback, like he had said, and (2) if there was even a slight chance he was going to take another girl on a date, Senku was going to force [Name] to come along to examine and analyze. Which was, by common sense, not really going to be a date.

“Oi, you don’t say that to a girl, especially if you just asked her out.” Chrome called out, punching Senku on the shoulder. “Not to mention isn’t that a breach in--what was it? Ethnics? Right?”

“Ethics.” Gen corrected before nodding in confirmation, looking at the two friends. “There’s a lot of things that could go wrong because you’re not following the right rules here, Senku-chan. Wouldn’t it be better to just pair up two different villagers who are single and see how romance can be attainable from there?”

[Name] could see slight movements from her side, where a few of the younger villagers turned a hue of pink as they glanced at one another, probably thinking about the prospect of being one of Senku’s experiements. Seeing that the benefits outweighing the negative prospects (not getting injured in any way possible, no one being able to see them except possibly Senku, and the prospects of a lover), it looked like a few of them were already making the decision to be part of it.

But this was Senku. He wasn’t about to play matchmaker if he himself couldn’t even find a reason to think that love wasn’t some illogical construct to fill up human loneliness. She wasn’t the only who was thinking that, though, as Kohaku spoke up.

“But this is about Senku thinking he can’t have those types of feelings so its gonna have to be him.” She replied blandly. “[Name] was probably chosen because he wants her to be there to watch him for any signs, regardless if its here being taken on a date or not.”

“That and she proposed the idea so she’s going to do it.” Senku piped up, sending [Name] a teasing grin.

[Name], burning even redder, stuttered some more. “You-You’ve got to be kidding me Senku. This must be some type of joke. I only said that to make conversation.”

“It was an interesting conversation and a weird statement that I wanna experiment on. Nothing less expected from you, though, [Name].” Senku replied as he kept slurping at the last of his ramen. “Besides its not like you have anything to do tonight.”

“Yeah, but--wait, tonight? Don’t you have get things in order--start out a claim, set up the experiment?” [Name] rambled, now even more confused. 

Kohaku met Chrome’s eyes with a deadpanned expression. Leave it to [Name] to treating it like an actual experiment and finding the faults. Though, Senku wasn’t usually one to leave out so many variables that could ruin the experiment.

“These are special cicumstances; have you ever participated in your own experiments? Adjustments will be made, yeah, but we might as well start it today and talk about it during the date. Just meet me by the bridge tonight. We’ll go to the field, go on a date, and then you can report to me anything you saw. Sound good? Cool. Now lets get back to work.” Senku said, standing up dusting off his pants, leaving a bewildered [Name] and possibly most of the village in his wake.

If it hadn’t been for a few of the village women, [Name] wouldn’t have been pulled out of her daze and internal panic. She’s had crushes on boys, yeah, but going on a date? Not really. She was too busy with school and helping her mother out at the store. There were a few times where she had almost gone on a one, but something always made her call in for a raincheck and then never proceeding afterwards.

But here she was 3,700 years later, sitting in a priestess’s hut, getting ready to go on a date with the world’s biggest asshole.

Kohaku had been the one to think about bringing the younger girl up to Ruri, explaining what had went down. Surprisingly, the village priestess was the least bit shocked about the events, deciding to (calmly) agree anyways to help relieve some of the immense stress [Name] was feeling. At the mention of Ruri helping created some domino effect with the village women, all offering to help [Name] get ready, much to her dismay.

“Its not like Senku’s gonna make the effort to dress nicely. I swear he wouldn’t have showered if I hadn’t made Chrome and Kinro drag him to the river a few days ago! Not to mention he’s only doing this to prove a point; that’s why he’s rushing it so quickly. So I really don’t think all of you should be treating this as anything special.” [Name] tried to reason as she watched the women pull up rope-like jewelry up to her body.

Kohaku scoffed. “Its not like boys know how to take care of themselves in the first place. I’m pretty sure one of the men in the village has his head screwed on properly or most likely Gen is gonna make him dress up just a little bit. Not to mention if this is an experiment then he’s most likely not trying to botch it to just prove a point.”

“Then why was he being so… So…” [Name] trailed off, not quite putting a word on it.

“Adamant?” Ruby offered as she held up a pretty necklace with a jewel attached to it.

“Excited?” Garnet said next as she pushed her chin up to spread something on her mouth. Lipstick? [Name] inquired. I guess the need for makeup never changes after so many years.

“Not really excited but--hold on, didn’t you three want to go on a date with Senku? I thought you’d be mad or something.” [Name] stated, clearly remembering the usual formula of girl’s behaviors during the modern era. It usually involved in some type of “she said he said” situation, where rumors ensued. At the very least, the three sisters should have been upset with her for Senku’s selection in dates.

Sapphire shrugged as she plucked at [Name]’s baggy dress. “We were for a few hours, but we might as well help since you look like you don’t know the first thing about going on a date.”

“Wha--Hey!” [Name] retorted, offended before backtracking. I mean, it’s not like they’re wrong.

“Maybe he actually likes you.” Kohaku suggested as she sat across from [Name]. Silence filled the room as all the girls stared at them. A moment passed between the two girls as they looked at one another until [Name] bursted out laughing, almost smearing her cheek against the lipstick hovering in front of her.

“Not possible. I’m pretty sure he sees me more of a germ than a person. Not to mention he’s never really found the girls in his own grade--the ones older than me--attractive so what’s the likely chance he sees me that way?” She asked when she stopped. She recalled a rumor swirling around the school about Senku rejecting over 10 girls during Valentine’s Day, all of them varying in popularity and looks. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, [Name]-san.” Ruri commented as she held another dress up to her, this one looking a little more decent. “You’re easily one of the prettiest girls here.”

“Don’t make me laugh again…” [Name] mumbled to herself, flinching when she felt Sapphire poke at her waist once again. “Oi, why are are you poking me?”

“I’m trying to see what your shape is like so we can let you try on one of the dresses.” Sapphire replied, pouting. “Why do you have to wear such baggy clothes?”

“Practicality.” Was the only response [Name] gave as she tried to keep still when makeup was being put on her.

“That’s a lame excuse. I bet you’re just hiding the fact you have small boobs.”

“My boobs have nothing to do with my clothes. Besides, small boobs or not, it shouldn’t matter what people think about them--!” [Name] yelled out, embarrassed, as a dress was thrown onto her lap.

It was blue, like most of the villager’s clothing, but it seemed more simple and less body-hugging like most of the clothes. It flowed down near the bust, where it had folded nicely around it to adjust to anyone wearing it. The sleeves were puffy and ended where her biceps began, looking kind of like neatly made muffins. Instead of a rope, a thin piece of cloth of the same color was tied to the front, giving a nice, simple finish for the clothing.

If Mom was still alive, she’d probably be looking at how well done this dress was with just a simple loom and needle. [Name] thought as she marveled at the tiny needlework near the waist, creating tiny little flowers near the top. Looking up, she met Ruri’s gentle smile. “That should fit you since one of the village women is identical to your body shape. Now, lets get you dressed; you have to meet up with Senku soon.”

PREVIOUS PART - NEXT PART

[thebadgerclan]

1,095 Days

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader (Marauders Era)

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Three years, and this is how you’re repaid...

The whole morning had felt brighter; the birds sounded happier, the sun shone brighter, you had a pep in your step.  Everything brought a smile to your face, and you were nearly skipping as you made your way from your dorm to the courtyard.  You made a slight detour to the greenhouses to pick up the bouquet Professor Sprout had grown for you: a dozen red roses tied together with a gold ribbon.  

Three years ago today, Sirius Orion Black had asked you to be his girlfriend, and you’d said yes with no hesitation.  Every single one of the 1,095 days since had been the best of your life, filled with more joy, laughter, and love than you ever thought you could feel.  And today would be no different.  You’d planned a romantic dinner for Sirius up on the Astronomy tower with all his favorite foods, and in your dorm was his gift: a pendant in the shape of a black dog, its nose a red heart.

The corridors were packed as usual, and through your joy, you didn’t see how your fellow students were looking at you.  They looked at you with pity, with sadness, some with a tinge of anger.  You were oblivious to their stares, and even if you were, they wouldn’t have made any sense.  The smile you’d worn all morning was still on your face as you made your way to the courtyard, roses held in your hand.  

But as you rounded the corner, a voice met your ears.  “Siri, someone’ll see us!”  Then your boyfriend’s voice, and you felt like you could be sick.  “They won’t.  Y/N won’t be down for another 10 minutes.  That’s 10 minutes I can spend kissing you.”  You turned around, eyes landing on an alcove that was cast in shadow.  But you could see enough.  Sirius’ unruly black curls, the curve of Marlene’s waist.  And worst of all, Sirius’ hands on her waist, steadily creeping downwards....

The flowers fell from your hand, the slight rattling sound grabbing Sirius’ attention.  “Fuck,” he whispered, and Marlene jumped away from him.  “Y/N,” she said.  “I can explai-”  “Don’t fucking talk to me,” you snapped, voice low and dangerous.  Sirius stepped forward, having the nerve to look ashamed.  “Y/N,” he tried to speak, but you held up a hand, silencing him.  “Do you have any fucking clue what day it is, Sirius?”

A cold laugh left your mouth as he shook his head.  “It’s our…” you trailed off, choking back tears.  You wanted to scream, to cry, to bring him pain.  “It’s June 5th, Sirius.”  He stood, silent, for a few moments, thinking.  Thinking far too long.  Then, his face fell even further.  “It’s our anniversary,” he said softly, guilt filling his voice.  “That’s right,” you said, a cynical smile crossing your face.  “So, explain this to me: why is it, that on our third anniversary, on my way to give you flowers, after I spent weeks planning a nice, romantic evening for you, I find you cheating on me?!”

Your voice had risen as you went on, people were watching now, but you didn’t care.  And if Sirius was embarrassed, all the better.  He was looking at the floor, silent.  “You can’t even give me a reason?  Fucking ridiculous.”  “Y/N,” he said, taking a step toward you.  “I-”  “Don’t you dare come near me!” you shouted, voice echoing down the corridors.  “Don’t you dare.  You have no right.”

“Y/N, please, I-”  “You broke my heart!” you screamed, voice cracking, everyone in the corridor falling silent.  “I gave you everything!  My heart, my trust, my love, and you threw it all away!  Three years, Sirius, three fucking years!  And this is how I’m repaid?  I loved you, Sirius, I really fucking loved you.”  He took another step forward, but you took another step back.  “Never speak to me again,” you said, no longer able to fight the tears, letting them spill down your cheeks.  “Never look at me again, never even think about me again.  You, Sirius Black, are the most despicable, wretched, vile human being to ever walk this earth, and I’m sorry I ever knew you. Rot in hell, you cheating bastard.”

And you turned around and fled down the hall, not stopping until you reached the door to your dorm.  As you’d run, tears had clouded your vision, sobs constricting your chest until you could hardly breathe, and you’d relied on memory to take you to your common room.  Once in your dorm, you threw yourself on your bed.  You hardly brought your pillow to your face before desperate, wailing sobs escaped you.  Tears soaked the pillow and your throat was screamed hoarse, and after an hour, you were blankly staring at the canopy of your bed, not caring about the tears drying on your face or your blocked nose.

The door to your dorm banged open, and your best friend entered, face red.  “I am going to kill him, Y/N, I swear to Merlin.  I mean it, I’ll kill him.”  You only shut your eyes, more tears forming and spilling over.  “Hey,” she said, voice now gentle where seconds ago it had been angry and cold.  “Come here, I’ve got you.  Let it you, Y/N, I’m here.”  She sat down next to you, pulling you into her arms as you cried, tears soaking her shirt, but she didn’t care.  “I’ll hurt him, publicly humiliate him, whatever you want.”  You managed a small laugh, but your tears prevailed.  Y/F/N simply held you as you cried, rubbing your back and handing you tissues as you needed them.  After 1,095 days, Sirius Orion Black had taken your heart and pulverized it.  

[dickgrcyscns]

You Don’t Have To Love Me

You Don’t Have To Love Me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Summary: In which you (fem!reader) find yourself falling more and more in love with your fellow Jedi, but you know you’re not supposed to have feelings like that.

Set During: Clone Wars Era

Word Count: 1,391 words

Gif used not mine!

Something in your heart stammered, you wanted to scream from the balcony with a fervor you had never thought of before. But your voice caught in your throat each time you tried to speak, you wanted to say something, say anything. The wind caused a slight chill to run down your spine, your eyes gathered tears as you continued to think. Obi-Wan and Anakin were due to be back any minute, to have tales of an epic fight that they were able to solve. Those tales wouldn't help to ease the anxiety you felt when they were gone, the dread that filled every crevice of your core. How would you survive without two of the most important people in your life — even if they did not know that. 

The door closed with a shock, the sound reaching your ears as you sat on the balcony. Sighing, you turned to look at the two men as they sat themselves on the couch in the loft. You walked back in to check on them, shutting the sliding window out to the balcony as you did so.

"Was it a successful mission?" You spoke on the way to the kitchen. Your eyes drifted over to the men, looking at them as they sighed. 

"If successful includes leaving with one or two extra scars then yes," Anakin responded first, his voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes, grabbing down two cups from from her cabinet and fixing them a glass of water. With the cups in hand, you walked out to sit in front of them. 

"Well, better a few scars than a deadly injury," you mumbled as she placed the glasses in front of them. Your legs crossed over one another, biting your lip as you waited to see if either of them were going to speak. 

"The mission went as planned," Obi-Wan nodded lightly, "however it would have gone a lot smoother if Anakin wasn't so impulsive."

"I took the shot when I thought it was right!" You laughed lightly, Anakin had never been any different. He had always been trigger happy and ready to fire if he thought he had the shot — sometimes it worked in his favor but many times it did not. 

"Right, well," Obi-Wan shrugged, "it didn't end up too well for you, did it?" 

"No," Anakin sounded defeated, "no it did not."

"Have you guys already reported to the council?" You asked Anakin, keen on making sure he got back to Padme — though you would never let him know that you knew of anything going on between them. Anakin nodded, "We came by here to show you we're okay. You always seem to worry so much about us when we're gone."

"Well I can see you're okay," you smiled, "and I'm sure you have sleep you need to catch up on right? Go ahead you two, if anything you deserve it more than anyone." You smiled at the two, grabbing their water cups. Anakin stood up and followed after the woman, double-checking that Obi-Wan was far out of reach to hear them. 

"We both know why you get yourself worked up," Anakin joked to you. You sighed, leaning against the counter as she shook her head.

"It's not just that Ani and you know it." 

"Oh, is it really now?"

"Ani," you laughed lightly, "I've cared for you since you were this little," your hand reached her waist, "you're like the son I can never have." 

Anakin smiled, grasping you for a hug that you gladly returned. Your eyes closed as you savored the warmth, it reminded you of when you were a child on Iego and would run the fields outside of the small hut your father had built. But the hug ended, something that you would hold close to a memory for the two. Something you would be able to look back on when they went on missions again, when you weren’t able to make sure they were okay. You placed you hand on his cheek, tapping it lightly as you looked at his eyes. Longing. You knew he wanted to go to the person he loved, to have one peaceful night next to her. 

"Go get some sleep, Ani, you need it," Anakin laughed as you dropped your hand.

"Do I look that bad?" He retorted on his way to the door, your response being just a raised brow. You shook your head once he left the room, eyes focusing solely on the man that made your heart do flips. 

"Obi? Are you okay?" You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his deep-set thoughts. His blue hues looked up to you, the color instantly devouring your senses. Your breath caught off a small amount of time, you didn't know what to do or how to function. You knew then it was past a stage of just a crush — though you had known for longer than just in that moment. But it was there, looking into his eyes as he glanced so lightly at you, that you realized. 

"I think I should ask yourself that, Y/n," you smiled in response, removing your hand from his clothed shoulder. Oh what you would have done to have it be the exact opposite. You blinked a few times to get that image out of your head, trying to clear every thought you had of him just sitting in your mind. 

"I'm good," you laughed, "I worked with the younglings again today. They got a lesson on knowing the planetary system this time." You smiled after the thought of the young kids and their reactions to the things you spoke about. It made your heart swell, the way that their eyes widened in excitement or curiosity and the noises they would make each time you would ask them a question. You had memorized their names, each one making a notch in her heart as you knew you would watch them grow up. 

"I'm sure that was quite the lesson," Obi-Wan smiled at you, making your stomach fill with butterflies. You looked away quickly, hoping that the nerves would subside without looking at him. You knew he would notice it, how elusive you were being to looking at him and all. "Have I done something to bother you? You don't seem to want to speak to me."

You took a moment before you continued, "No, you haven't done anything Obi." You took a quick breath before you continued on, "Actually I think this ones all on myself, I—" you cut yourself off before you could continue to speak. Obi-Wan's eyes were trained on you, brows furrowed in worry. 

"You what?" 

"I love you," your voice was barely above a whisper, but you knew he had heard it. "It's okay, you don't have to love me back." But it would be great if you did, you thought. 

He stared at you for a moment. Had you just jumped and ruined a friendship with someone you cared about, someone you felt the complete and utter need to see. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times, bringing a hand to stroke his beard as he thought. You could hear your heartbeat, pounding against your skull as he took his time in thought. However he never said word, instead he stood up and walked across to you, his hand reaching out to your cheek. You hadn't noticed the tears falling from your eyes until then, your physical reaction happened much quicker than your mental reaction. 

And then he placed his lips on top of yours, a breathless encounter for the two of you. Your mind was in scrambles, you were rushing to put pieces back together all while finally having the kiss you so desperately craved from the man you’ve loved for years. His forehead laid upon yours, eyes staring directly at each other. This thumb rubbed soothing circles onto your cheek, a smile gracing his own face. 

"Say the word and I'll leave the council," Obi-Wan whispered onto your lips, "we can have a small farm of our own, children that we'll teach the ways of the force like your father did."

"It's not a fun life to live, Obi," your hands ran through his auburn locks, "but for you I would live through it."

[thiswasinevitableid]

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

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

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

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

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

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

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

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

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[the-last-cuddlebender]

I straight up check your profile daily for the southern raiders analysis you’re working on. 👀👀 where IS IT 😩

bRUH I am so excited to drop this analysis you have no idea (It’s creeping up to 22k+ I am gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyy). The only problem is that my TSR analysis and “Moon theory” are so incredibly hard to structure and articulate. I’m happy you’re so excited for it, though!!! Truly, it’s an honor. I’ll give you a taste of my madness and what’s to come, but be warned: it may be a bit hard to follow because TSR (from how I’ve come to understand it) is about the vagueness of beginnings, endings, and cycles, so there isn’t really a starting point for me to begin with. (So it may seem a tad bit like a ramble in some points that I haven’t fleshed out yet/am summarizing for this ask)

This analysis has me on trails like THIS brilliant nonsense, and I am 1000000000% here for it:

Roku: “The spirit's name is Koh, but he is very dangerous. They call him The Face Stealer.”

Katara: “We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.”...“That’s him. That’s the monster.”

Lion Turtle: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted and destroyed.”

Roku: “When you speak with him, you must be very careful to show no emotion at all. Not the slightest expression, or he will steal your face.”

Hama: “Congratulations, Katara. You’re a bloodbender.”

(If Katara had killed Yon Rha, she would be giving up her identity--her face. Not only would she have become a killer, but she would be killing what made her Katara)

Aang: “Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Forgive him--approach him for what he is, not the faces your memories or your heart are having him wear. See him for the pathetic man he is in that moment right in front of you.

Aang’s forgiveness is seeing someone for the sum of their parts. It’s judging them and seeing through into their very soul, just like the Firebending Masters saw through Zuko being the Crown Prince and Aang being the Avatar. That meant nothing to the Masters. What did matter to them was who the boys were right there, right then, right in front of them.

“Why should I hold a grudge against you for something you did in a past life? After all, you’re a different person, now. You’ve come to me with a new face.”

But anyways...

If I can give no other take-away from my analysis and moon theory, it’s that Yin and Yang are not two entities; they are three. I think the fandom’s misunderstanding of it may be why the discourse on TSR (and Aang, Katara, and Zuko) is so black and white (pun intended lol). 

“But Yin and Yang are obviously two things. Don’t you know the symbol?” I hear some people already saying.

Wrong, sir.

It has never been just Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang have never existed as just two things.

They are Yin and Yang and Wu Wei.

(Aunt Wu has her name for a reason, and she has the mark of the wise in her hair for a reason, too...AND she is at odds with Sokka in The Fortuneteller for a reason, too!!!...but that’s for the analysis😉)

Balance isn’t good triumphing over evil. Balance is good and evil. Balance is standing on the flow between two opposites--it’s the compliment that connects them. (The koi fish live in an oasis for a reason.)

I’ll explain what Wu Wei is later in the full analysis (like many things in here), but here’s some of my evidences and proofs for the “Yin Yang trio”:

The Tibetan “Wheel of Dharma”

(I’ll also explain the Wheel and Dharma and etc. later because it has everything to do with Koh and the moon) Long story short, the wheel and its spokes are representative of the 8 steps to enlightenment and the cycle of rebirth. 

Look at the hub of the wheel. It’s a swirl made of 3 parts.

It is also a white lotus

Here’s the colored version of the wheel (as an alter):

Recognize the colors?

BLUE, WHITE (or gold, depending), & RED

These are the “THREE TREASURES” OR JEWELS.

They symbolize DHARMA, BUDDHA, & SANGHA respectively. 

KATARA, AANG, & ZUKO

water, air, & fire

T H R E E

Bato: “Ice dodging is a ceremonial test of wisdom, bravery, and trust.

Bato: “The spirits of water bear witness to these marks...”

Why does Bato say spirit(s) plural? The Ocean and the Moon are only two spirits. The Ocean can’t be two things. Right?

WRONG

Yue: “The legends say the Moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

The Moon--singular. The Tides--plural (push and pull)

Lion Turtle: “In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements, but the energy within our senses.”

The moon pushing and pulling the tide is the moon bending the energy of its world. 

Katara finding balance between “being too weak to do it” or “strong enough not to” is her bending the energy within herself.

It’s two solutions written as a question but said as a statement.

Yue: “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves”

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ABOUT AANG AND ZUKO LEARNING FROM KATARA. Katara had already learned from Aang and Zuko all leading up to TSR. That was her studying. TSR was her test.

TSR is Zuko’s and Aang’s studying. Sozin’s Comet is their test.

Bato: “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same mark your father earned. For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us. And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe.”

Aang - Wise (”you’re pretty wise for a kid”)

Katara - Brave (the same mark her mother earned)

Zuko - Trusted (”I was the first person to trust you”)

Sokka - Bato ("I am to have no part in this--you pass or fail on your own.”)

Yin and Yang are nothing without their dance. The Avatar and the Firelord mean nothing if they don’t have a world to rebuild.

The valley means nothing if there isn’t anyone to live in it.

Fighting is useless if there isn’t someone to fight for, otherwise it is “selfish and stupid”

Katara had to have a reason to return from Yon Rha. She needed to have Aang waiting for her. If she didn’t have a reason to stay, then she wouldn’t have a reason to go.

To have a reason to sleep, a person has to have a reason to wake up.

Katara: “Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone; that it's all his responsibility.”

Hakoda: “Maybe that's his way of being brave.”

(Bato: “For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.”)

Katara: “It's not brave! It's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him! And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?!”

(It was, in fact, not easy for Aang to ‘do nothing’)

Katara: “I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry...and hurt.”

Hakoda: “I love you more than anything. You and your brother are my entire world. I thought about you every day when I was gone, and every night when I went to sleep, I would lie awake missing you so much it would ache.”

(AND YUE IS ONE OF THE ONES TO SAVE AANG IN THE OCEAN FOR A REASON)

Thinking and missing: a matter of mind (who) and heart (want). 

Iroh: “Who are you? And what do you want?”

Sokka: “We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most.”

Mai: “I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

BUT YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT THE MOON FOR A HOT SECOND???

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE MOON

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT 2 MOONS

OH

OH REALLY???

OH REALLY, ZUKO

A FEW HOURS YOU SAY?

THEN TELL ME, ZUKO

WHY IS THE SUN GOING UP

WHEN IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT A FEW HOURS LATER

AND KATARA IS SLEEPING SO YOU CAN’T TELL ME IT’S BECAUSE YOU RISE WITH THE SUN OTHERWISE SHE’D BE WIDE AWAKE DURING THE FULL MOON THAT SHE USES TO BLOODBEND NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES LATER

THIS, MY FRIENDS, IS A HARVEST MOON

WHICH IS THE LAST FULL MOON OF THE SUMMER 

(and looks off color when it rises/falls because of the angle of the rise/fall in the atmosphere...it’s normal once overhead)

AND SYMOLIZES HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF

“We’re going to find the MAN who took my mother from me.”

“That’s him. That’s the MONSTER.”

8 spokes on the wheel

Katara was 8 when Kya was killed

8 steps to enlightenment (the “Eightfold Path”)

8 phases of the moon

8 faces of Koh

“One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me! Be it 8 or 9 hundred years ago” (but time is an illusion, so hundreds mean nothing)

THE OTHER TWO MOONS THAT ARE CONSUMING MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT???:

1.) The WOLF MOON--the first full moon of the new year (a love between the wolf and the moon in the harshest winters...connection is kindof obvious lmao)

2.) THE THUNDER MOON

The Thunder Moon is the full moon of July. It is also known as the Buck Moon--for when young buck regrow their antlers.

Yue: “My hair turned white.”

Zuko: *cuts and re-grows his hair*

Aang: “I have hair?”

The Thunder Moon--the full moon of July--is also the beginning of a certain Buddhist holiday.

DHARMA DAY

WHICH CELEBRATES THE BEGINING OF BUDDHISM AND THE FIRST OF THE 8 STEPS (the first spoke of the Dharma Wheel) TOWARDS ENLIGHTENMENT

AVATAR IS ALL ABOUT CYCLES

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ALL ABOUT BREAKING THEM

I haven’t even touched Jung, Koh, Hinduism, and Buddhism yet

or the fact that Katara and Kya are the only characters in the entire series to wear moons on their clothing and that, together, they form an actual lunar phenomenon

or why the spirit oasis isn’t a complete circle

or the fact that this thing that Aang is told to chase is just like Whaletail Island:

or how important the Great Divide and the Solstice are

AND I’M JUST GETTING STARTED

BECAUSE EVERYTHING IN THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS--RIGHT DOWN TO THE SOUND DESIGN--IS ABSOLUTELY MONUMENTAL IN UNDERSTANDING THE SHOW, ITS MESSAGE, ENERGYBENDING, AND LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

TLDR: Idk how the heck I’m going to arrange or articulate this analysis because it is WILD. Be warned: There is literally no exact beginning and ending to this analysis because the whole point of Yin and Yang is that is has no beginning or ending (...kindof...), so you’ll have to bear with me once I’m done editing it into something that’s somewhat coherent.

These are just SOME of the things I’ve been able to answer with my moon theory and analysis of The Southern Raiders as it currently stands:

Why “letting go” isn’t really letting go (as we understand it...see: Aang’s confrontation with Koh)

Why Lake Laogai and the Spirit World are symbolically the same thing.

Zuko’s advice to the bullfrog is actually a summary of the show, energybending, the origin of bending, and the definition of Aang’s “forgiveness” I stg

Why “Sokka’s instincts” are the reason Katara yells at Sokka

Believe it or not, every time Katara mentions her mother, it is at specific times for specific reasons.

^^^same thing for the moon, lack of moon, moon positioning, etc.

Katara’s mother’s necklace is more important than we realize.

Who the faces of Koh are and WHY they are there.

The true meaning of Jet’s sacrifice.

Why Jet’s episode about the dam explains the entirety of TSR as it pertains to Katara (all the way down to the little girl who runs to get her doll after the dam breaks)

Why Katara actually DID forgive Yon Rha, and the fact that she doesn’t even know it is proof that she did

^^^^^Aang’s definition of forgiveness is completely misunderstood by the fandom, and the way he “forgives” is sososo much deeper than “moving on”, and it is DEFINATELY by no means “doing  nothing” or “excusing” past actions.

The importance of lightning, Zuko, Aang, and Katara.

The absolutely monumental and not nearly talked about importance of Jeong-Jeong like holy crap.

How Katara and Azula are just as much of a Yin and Yang as Zuko and Aang but not in the way we think they are

Why Koh has the Blue Spirit’s face

Why Koh DOESN’T have the Painted Lady’s face.

Who Ni-Ni from Katara’s campfire story in The Puppetmaster is 

How and why Iroh was able to learn firebending from the Masters even though he didn’t have a partner. 

How/Why Azula had her breakdown and why she saw her mother in the mirror

Why “Leaves from the Vine” and “Four Seasons” are the same song, explain Azula’s downfall, and explain the Yin and Yang of TSR.

Why Katara and Sokka are so often mistaken for parental figures.

Why Aang’s flashbacks to the Air Nomads are so important in understanding TSR.

Why Toph and Suki disappear after the campfire in TSR.

How Hakoda, Gyatso, and Kya are all connected.

Why it is so dang important that Azula shows up in the beginning of TSR.

The importance of the Spirit Oasis.

Energybending, healing with waterbending, Aang’s trauma, and Zuko’s scar.

Why Zuko gives Katara the exact opposite advise in TSR that he gave her in the catacombs. 

How everything could be predicted and read by the moon.

WHY YIN AND YANG ARE THREE THINGS AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THREE THINGS.

HOW ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF THIS TIES BACK TO THE MOON AND BUDDHIST BELIEFS--AND YEAH THE MOON AND BUDDHISM AND HINDUISM ARE MORE CONNECTED IN ATLA THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.

AND HOW IT LEADS INTO OUR MODERN UNDERSTANDING OF THE SELF--BECAUSE JUNG TOOK GREAT INFLUENCE IN HIS DEVELOPING THEORY OF THE CONSCIOUS AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS FROM THE HINDU/BUDDHIST RELIGIONS 

^^^^AND ALSO THE THEORY OF THE SHADOW AND THE PERSONA 

The ocean is a deep, dark, unknown place with a lot of hidden monsters (like Yon Rah). Katara needed a light to find her monster, but she also needed somewhere she could breathe when she came back up for air.

If she didn’t have both Zuko and Aang, Katara would have drowned. 

I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a thesis, and what I’ve said and listed here isn’t even all that I have.

btw This all does line up on the traditional Yin Yang symbol we know and see in the show, but I don’t have enough space here for that lmao. That’ll be in the analysis

I hope you enjoyed this little taste, my friend, because I need to sit down for a hot second before my brain leaks out of my ears. Sorry for the ramble. I promise the analysis isn’t like this lol. This is just me trying to summarize as best as I can. 

***Disclaimer: My points are always subject to change since I am still researching. These are the facts as I’ve found and applied them to the evidences I’ve noted from in the show. I’m always open for friendly discussion or any directions to better sources on Buddhism/Tao/Jung!***