#then showed me the corresponding picture of Bottoms Only

[fisheito]

If you tracked my eye activity on that bliss promo pic with the tops it would be something like this

Making a major stop at topper

Before crashing into a ditch (yakuya corner)

[greenthena]

Metatron's Tie

**Update: check the reblogs. There's a clear picture that shows the tie pattern as flowers. So, there goes my theory. Whomp whomp. Easy come, easy go, as Freddie says. @archangelween @drconstellation

People, I have been trying to get a good look at the Metatron's ding dang neck tie since September to determine what those little blue symbols are. Because, like everything in the Good Omens universe, I believe it's been put there for a reason. I also believe that God has no idea what she's doing, which is why she hired Neil Gaiman to run things for a few decades.

Despite being a so-called agent of Heaven, the Metatron's costume is coded as demonic, from his dark topcoat to the black stripes on his white shirt. The item I find most fascinating, however, is his tie. And this is probably in large part because I've had so much difficulty seeing the subtle blue pattern upon it and that has made my brain itch and made me hyperfixate. As one does.

I think I may have figured out the design, and it complicates all my Metatron theories, but here we go. The Metatron's tie is black, featuring a repeated small bright blue symbol throughout. I've guessed it could be a star or a planet. A cryptic sigil or maybe something to do with the coffee (I'm not a coffee-theory person, though, for the record.) I don't know what it is (well, maybe I do now, and I promise we'll get there in time...I'm a demon of my word), but I do know that it's important.

All the angels have references to their angelic status concealed within their costumes.

Michael is the watcher. She is the one who, in Saturday Morning Funtime, delivers surveillance photos to Gabriel. To reflect this, Michael wears a gold ring featuring several small pearls that symbolize eyes. She is ever-vigilant (hyper-vigilant, ya might say), and even has a contact in Hell (Dagon) to broaden her scope of observation. The placement of the ring in the pinky is also significant. A good watcher mustn't themselves be observed, so Michael, in her role as observer must slip under the radar. This corresponds to the pinky finger being small and quite literally underhanded, as in at the bottom of the hand.

Uriel's ring is a silver star, worn on her/their index finger, the digit associated with authority. (We call it the index finger because we use it to sort and catalog, creating meaning and order.) Uriel certainly commands authority, both in their overall calm and assured demeanor, and also in their actions. It is she who physically confronts Aziraphale prior to the S1 No-pocalypse, easily inspiring fear in the Principality. As for the symbol of the star, I believe it is a reference to modern Angelography (I might have made up that word, but I think you know what I'm talking about) which usually describes Uriel as a sun, star, or the flame of the Almighty.

Sandalphon's symbology is two-fold: a thick gold pinky ring featuring a pair of circles (kind of looks like a lego brick, to be perfectly fair) and that small gold grill he wears on his front teeth. Both these items are the most elaborate pieces of angelic adornment that we see. Sandalphon's overall aesthetic is much warmer than the other angels', leaning toward caramel and tan rather than dove gray. He's a bit of an odd ball in the host of Archangels and stands out based on his wardrobe choices alone. He's also the only Archangel not to return in S2. I don't want to make too much of this, because there are many in-universe reasons why we may not see Sandalphon again. However, in Judeo-Christian scripture, Sandalphon is closely joined with...wait for it...the Metatron, with apocryphal texts describing him as Enoch's (the Metatron's pre-angelic human name) twin brother. I take this with a hefty spoon of salt, though, since Neil definitely plays loosey-goosey with these dogmas and even the scriptures themselves are a veritable soup of contradiction. (The Bible is not a static or universally canonical text, and Hebrew scriptures, outside the Tanakh are a web of activity and debate as to what is accurate. I'm not here for the arguments today; this is not my Bat Mitzvah.)

Finally, we have Gabriel, the only Archangel who doesn't wear a ring. He does, however, wear a watch. I have two thoughts about the watch. First, clocks are thematically relevant in the Good Omens universe. From the grandfather clock in the bookshop to Crowley's elaborate wristwatch (which he has in both show and book) to the opening sequence of S1, which has far too many clock faces to count. So there's that. But holding time in one's hand (or on one's wrist) is a powerful metaphor that illustrates control and higher power. To possess a clock is to command time and space which are essentially inseparable. As the Supreme Archangel, Gabriel is nearly the top-ranking being in the universe (for a time, at least...see what I did there? pathetic laughter) and his wristwatch demonstrates this point.

If you're still with me, you're doing great. Good job.

We've got to see how important the Archangels' symbology is to their characters, I think, to really understand why the sigils on the Metatron's tie matter. So, finally to the point. Dolphins. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

To move forward, we'll need to call upon my old friend, the Tarot deck. Cards, in general, and Tarot, in particular, play a marked role in the GO universe. The Almighty Herself addresses the viewer in the opening lines of the show, "God does not play dice with the universe; I play an ineffable game of my own devising. For everyone else, it's like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time." As God speaks, cards appear on screen, and some of those are from the Rider Waite Tarot deck. One specific card that caught my eye in this montage is "Judgement."

This card features an angel blasting a trumpet and waking the dead from their graves on the Day of Judgement. The angel on the card is not named, as such. It's usually assumed to be Raphael, as he is the angel who is prophesied to call and raise all souls on this day. However, I've found other references naming the angel as either Gabriel or the Metatron. Now, I don't want to get overly carried away here, but in the context of Good Omens, reading the Judgement card with the Metatron as the angel pictured may actually make a lot of sense, and clarify the sigils on the Metabutt's tie. The Metatron postures himself as the Voice of God--the Mouthpiece of the Almighty. Kinda like a trumpet, yes?

Now look at the flag on the angel's trumpet. That's called St. George's Cross and it's a very prevalent European Christian symbol dating back to the Middle Ages. Like many images in the Tarot, it's a heraldic emblem that has meaning outside the deck, often associated with bravery and military might. It continues to be used in military iconography into the present day. The Judgement that the angel heralds is not peaceful. It's a call to war. The righteous will be gathered to Heaven and the wicked will be destroyed--a repeat of the first Great War in which Satan and the demons were cast into Hell. In the narrative of Good Omens, this war will bring about the end of time, the end of the world, and the beginning of eternity (hope ya'll like The Sound of Music.)

Kids (human and goat, alike) I think those little blue sigils on the Metatron's tie are Saint George's Cross. (I'm so sorry this is so small and hard to see. Now you know my pain.)

In the Final Fifteen, the Metatron speaks briefly about the Second Coming, which is a reference to Saint John of Patmos' prophecies--you might know them as the Book of Revelation. Some Christians interpret Revelation as an upcoming final judgement for humanity. And it seems, based on in-universe exposition, certain characters view these prophecies in a similar light. In the reverse body-swap at the end of S1, Crowley suggests that the averted Apocalypse was not the end of the conflict. "If you ask me," he says, "Both sides are gonna' use this as breathing space before the Big One. [...] For my money, the really Big One is all of us against all of them." And with the Metatron acting as the Mouthpiece of God, that "Big One," that Day of Judgement, if you will, may well be nigh.

I think the Metatron sees himself as the angel who rings out the Final Judgement. He is the Voice of God, after all. But here is a worrying thought. How little he would need to shift perspective to view himself as the Word of God, as well. The Gospel of John opens, "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The Same was in the beginning with God." The Word of God is an epithet for Jesus. The same Jesus whose Second Coming the angel of judgement is meant to announce. So what if the Metatron just plans to consolidate these roles for himself: the heralding angel and the Second Coming rolled into one. He would become Judgement Incarnate, supplanting the Almighty once and for all. And for my money, that sounds just like what a demon would like to do.

***I'm updating because several readers have pointed out that it seems like I'm saying Metatron=Demon because Demon=Bad. Thank you for bringing this to my attention--it makes me a better communicator. I can see where it's coming from. It's not my intention. Consider this meta sort of an extension of my "Metatron is the Murder Hornet" meta, which I'll link with the tags if you're interested.

Just wanted to clarify that I think at its heart, Good Omens is thematically about rejecting the dichotomy of good and evil and embracing the messy gray space that is reality.

When I call Metaboob a demon, it's not because I think demons are evil, it's because I think he's the hornet in the beehive and we've seen that demons need an angelic escort (Crowley and Muriel) to access Heaven.

TL;DR Angels are not the good guys. Demons are not the bad guys. Good Omens is NOT about that at all.

[mashed4077]

frank goes to maine jokes are funny and all but hear me out: hawkeye goes to indiana.

picture this. it's only been like six or eight months since the war ended and hawk's doing rock-bottom awful. he can't form new attachments and the war haunts his every moment, so he's grown rlly dependent on keeping in contact with everyone, bc they're the only ones who get it. he's already been down to boston to see trapper and to bother charles, he's even impulsively made his way to iowa and missouri to see radar and potter (and showed up on their doorsteps out of nowhere). he tried to visit henry's widow and kids on his way back through illinois, but he couldn't bring himself to. he calls margaret & bj routinely, and he maintains correspondence with mulcahy & klinger over in korea (im ignoring aftermash. or maybe it's just too soon, neither is back in the US yet). he's even managed to remember the names of a few stand-out patients he had and done his best to reach out to them.

at some point, he fixates on the fact that he's managed to keep up with everyone important but frank. nobody knows what happened to him. margaret hasn't heard from him, and she won't contact him. he could be dead for all they know. something about it rubs him wrong, about the gap, the missing piece - the lack of control. it's been really bothering him that he patched up a thousand soldiers in korea and he'll never see any of them again, and in his head it makes sense if he can at least hold on to fifteen or twenty of the people he met over there, that might be enough. and he knows frank's name and where he's from and that he has a practice, which means he can find him. another person he can hold onto, because the idea of letting go and moving on is terrifying, and feels completely unattainable

so what does hawkeye do. he makes his way to fort wayne. he finds a phone book. he asks around.

what does he find? the only thing i know for sure is that frank and louise definitely divorced, and he lost most of his assets. is he living in a depressing Divorced Guy apartment? is his clinic gone? did he actually get promoted to lieutenant colonel or was he lying? did he get put on meds? did they transfer him from a korean army hospital to a civilian hospital in indiana (as a patient)? is he still there, or did they release him? how well is he functioning? did he bounce back or is he still a wreck? is he healthier or worse? did he mature, grow, and gain insight at all? is he a little more self aware? if he's doing better, does he know what to do with himself or is he at a crossroads in his life?

either way, hawkeye realizes frank's the only one doing just as bad as he is / who's just as unsure where to go next as he is. and he's certainly the only one who's as alone as he feels.

maybe it's platonic. maybe he decides if he helps frank get his shit together, it'll help him figure out how to deal with things and move on too. and frank's the only one he can latch onto like that. everyone else, he can't just inject himself into their life while he sorts through his own shit. he can't burden any of them when they're busy with their families and careers. but frank - he has nothing. and he's doing worse than hawkeye, so hawk figures it's nicer that way, that it's not just about him, that they can help each other. and maybe, maybe frank finally gets a little redemption. finally gets the chance to grow a little.

maybe it's romantic. maybe one of the things frank's coming to terms with post-divorce is his attraction to men. maybe hawkeye's the first person he really talks about it candidly with, and for the first time, hawk's exhausted enough and feels bad enough that he doesn't answer with jokes when frank opens up. he takes him seriously. they reach that level, where frank's doing too bad to be a miserable snotty wretch and hawkeye's too fucked up to be a smart-mouth and to mock him, and that mutual exhaustion accidentally allows for trust and a sense of camaraderie.

either way... what if they helped each other to heal again? frank's always been fucked up, but much too deluded to admit it or try to grow. but i think his experiences in korea broke him, and i think there's an opportunity, there, for him to be remade into a better and healthier person. and hawkeye was ok before, but the war broke him, and he just needs to find a way to get back to himself. maybe they could help each other do that.

and if you're thinking, well, frank's a bigot, he doesn't deserve redemption or happiness - frank just absorbs whatever makes him feel safe and secure. his attitudes are things he was conditioned to believe, and he's stuck by them because they give him guidelines and a sense of order in a senseless, confusing, and frightening world. and you know what else? he believes those things because he thinks he's supposed to. frank latches onto authorities or individuals that he can base his life around, and in that way he's very moldable. this is why frank & margaret's relationship was far from a traditional conservative heterosexual one, like they both claim to believe in the sanctity of. the amusing hypocrisy out of them crops up partially because frank seems to be capable of disregarding an authority (like, say, the bible, particularly the seventh commandment) and his belief in "what should be" in favor of a person he's emotionally invested in. and, ofc, if it serves his own needs.

this is to say, within the context of the circumstances im describing, i think hawkeye could rlly help frank 180. it'd take a minute, but i believe if he began to value making sure hawkeye approved of him, a lot of his problematic beliefs would no longer get callously spouted, and he might even get better about thinking them in the first place. and hawkeye would love trying to educate someone who's not stupidly arguing nonsense points in favor of fascism, who's instead listening intently because why should he continue to follow the beliefs passed onto him by a family that spent his early years hurting and hating him? isn't it better to listen to the man speaking to him patiently and kindly, if a little irritatedly (bc everything hes saying should be common knowledge) - the first person who's ever really made an effort to care for him?

maybe one could argue that wouldn't be genuine, but im not sure how capable frank is of genuineness. i think he can grow in a lot of other ways, but his propensity to manipulate will take a while to unlearn, bc it's a survival tactic and he's never had a healthy relationship where he didnt feel a need to do that to ensure his security. of course, who knows if this post-war, shared-trauma-bonded relationship would be any semblance of healthy? but i think it sure would be fascinating

it's in the way frank's not even fully a person. he's a bunch of books on how to be a successful all-american man in a trenchcoat, just emulation and regurgitation, and yet he's genuinely incapable of actually embodying it. he's always failed at that. he just doesnt have it in him. and i think hawkeye, who's always rejected all the things frank's aspired to be, who failed on purpose and created himself in his own image.. would be capable of and would love the challenge of helping frank become his own person. and you know what else? hawkeye's not capable of the ol picket fence marriage. idk if hes capable of day in day out domesticity. with a man or a woman. i think surrendering into smth thats soft and loving would drive him a little crazy. but i think whatever the hell bizarre disaster relationship he developed with frank .. i think it might be enough for him

[irismfrost]

July 14 - Free Day: What It's Like To Be A Local

I spent today on my own. I met up with my Dad's old business partner and friend, who lives in Taipei. My Dad works in architecture and his friend works in interior design (there was also a third business partner who I have not met). He and his wife picked me up from the hotel and we went to Green Bakery located in a residential part of the city that I haven't been to yet. The creations at this place were unlike anything I've ever seen. Every product was a work of art and had complex and new (to me) flavors. For example, one dessert that looked like Yu Shan (Jade Mountain- the tallest mountain in Taiwan) had a greenish bottom layer and a white top layer. It was cold and the bottom was a bit denser and has an earthier flavor while the top was light and airy. It had a sesame filling that was a bit grainy in texture. It had a light sweetness- not like the US. The filling is intentionally grainy to represent the dirt in the mountain. The layers had the perfect density- as time went on the top started to get softer and the bottom held its shape better. It made me think about being close to the ground (bottom part) and being close to the clouds (top part). I am very grateful that I had the opportunity to meet my Dad's friend and his wife, and that he shared this Sunday with me. They were both so friendly and our conversation could've gone on and on and on. We were probably at that shop for over 2 hours. He showed me his office space which is just as innovative as I expected. And he has a picture of him and my Dad when my Dad was building our house when I lived in Georgia which I thought was pretty cool.

Him and his wife dropped me off at the temple we visited yesterday. In my previous post, I called it "Longshan" but when I went back, I noticed that it was spelled, "Lung Shan", so i wanted to address that correction before I talk about it more. I thought it would be interesting to immerse myself into a new culture and just give it a solid try. It took me a while to figure out what I was doing, but thankfully, the English pamphlet, QR code with prayer directions, and many nice people helped me very much. I started with Bodhisattva (the central Buddhist figure at the temple). I am not one to pray but I did and I made sure to say my name, date of birth (DOB), and current address at the beginning. All prayers start the same here. Then I moved on to the Daoist Gods- I didn't pray to all of them, just a few. I forgot to give my offering (I only had my granola bar) when I first started praying to Bodhisattva, so I circled back and re-prayed to Him before I took it back. I also decided to do the moon blocks (poé). This was more of a challenge than I anticipated. There were also specific directions on the website that I followed. When you throw the blocks, you don't get an answer to your specific question, but you get to know whether your question WILL be answered. You are asking for a divine sign (the sign is when the blocks say "yes") that your question will be answered today. The answer to your specific question is found in poem form (you interpret it) and there are about 100 poems that could be your answer. The number on the stick is how you figure out which poem is the answer to your question. The first step is to start your prayer, ask for a sign, and ask your question. When you get a "yes", you then pull a stick with a number. If you don't get a "yes" at this point, you have to rephrase your question and try again. The answer you are looking for corresponds to the number on the stick, but you have to confirm that the number you just pulled is the correct answer. So you need to get 3 "yes"s in a row to confirm. This is the tedious part. If you don't get a yes, you draw another number. There were certain points that I just restarted the whole prayer and I kept re-wording my question. After what was probably an hour or throwing blocks on the floor, I finally got an answer. I asked the lady who was selling the charms and trinkets to help me interpret it (it was all in Chinese). I also bought some charms and blessed them. She was very helpful and patient with me. I spoke with her on many separate occasions. When I got back to the hotel, I ate my granola bar offering. It was very melted, but I felt proud of myself that I completed the ritual.

Reflection

Meeting my Dad's friend was such a unique experience that I never could've imagined. Yesterday, I talked about the perception of time in Taiwan in comparison to the US. He and his wife took over 3 hours out of their Sunday to spend time with me. And it didn't have to be 3 hours, but everyone was enjoying the moment and it just happened to be that long. In the US, meetings like that are typically a little more rigid with timing and structure. Sometimes in the US, conversation is cut short in an effort to stick to a timeline. It feels refreshing to let go of the need to control time (to enjoy the present without the future looming overhead).

At Lung Shan temple, actively participating in the customs felt so strange and took a lot of confidence. Everyone stares because I look different and I didn't have enough clothes to dress super modestly which made me feel more out of place. I didn't pray to every deity because A. I didn't think they all applied to me and B. that would've taken a long time, but it made me realize how much work prayer is. It takes a lot of focus to clear your mind to pray. It takes a lot of discipline to keep repeating the beginning part and not rush through it (back to the idea of time-orientation). It also just takes a long time if you want to be thorough (especially if you want trustworthy results from throwing the blocks LOL). It is also hard to specify your prayer. That is part of the reason you are so specific with your name, DOB, and address in the beginning. You can only get what you want when you know what you want. I compare this to goal setting and the idea behind manifestation.

Every day, I wake up grateful that I am here and have already grown so much in 4 days. These reflections are an amazing avenue to do just that.

[casualjacobwrites]

My FFXIV Hot Bar Setup

A friend who watches me stream asked me to explain how I have my hot bars set up in Final Fantasy XIV, and while I tried to answer on stream I realized quite quickly that without diagrams a lot of what I said wouldn't make sense. At his request, I decided I could do a big write-up complete with my horrible graphic design skills to show how I set up my bars for melee DPS, tank, healer, and caster.

Before I begin, some information plus a couple of caveats:

I play on PC using a mouse and keyboard. If you're looking for help with controller setup, I fear this "guide" won't be of much use. If you really want some help with controller and can't find any other source, feel free to DM me, or check my Twitch page for a link to my Discord. My spouse, NinjaWeazel, uses a controller and can likely offer some tips.

I use a Logitech G600 mouse (pictured below) and can highly recommend it if you're looking for a multi-button mouse. In the past have used a Razer Naga and a Steel Series MMO mouse, but do not recommend their products.

Before playing FFXIV, I played WoW and I used the same sort of setup and keybinds then that I do now. I mention this in case it might somehow give people insight into why I do things the way I do. I doubt it will, but who knows?

I am neurodivergent and what makes sense to my brain may not make sense to yours. Please know there's no wrong way to set up your hot bars! Do what works for you and you alone.

I got so wrapped up in making my crappy graphics that I forgot I set an ice cream sandwich on my desk to eat. It melted before I remembered it. Thankfully, it was still contained in its wrapper and didn't leave a mess. This has nothing to do with the guide, but I'm mourning my lost treat.

Oh, and while I obviously am not posting anything related to Dawntrail MSQ, some of the jobs pictured under here are at level 100 if that matters to anyone. Anyway, let's get on with it.

Mouse and General Keybinds

As stated above, I use a Logitech G600, which looks like this (please excuse crappy cell phone picture):

The side buttons correspond with the number row on my Keyboard. I use buttons G15-G20 which translate to numbers 7 through = on the keyboard. For numbers 1 through 6, I typically use my keyboard as those buttons on the side of the mouse are hard for me to comfortably press. I can do it in a pinch, but I've never really needed to and, to be honest, if I'm not able to press keys 1 through 6, it typically means I'm doing more important stuff like mechanics.

My Basic Hotbar Setup

OK so here are my hot bars one through four. On bar 4 (the top row in the picture) are my sprint key, some raid markers, and my limit break. This bar is set to universal and is the only one that's constant through all my jobs.

Bar three is reserved for role actions and any other action I am unable to fit on the other bars/don't use as often but still need.

Bar 2 is set up so the first six buttons are my shift key PLUS buttons G15-G20 on my mouse (number 7 through = button on the keyboard). Zero comes first because that button is right next to where my thumb rests. You'll see why I mention that in a moment. [Side Note: Eagle eye readers might notice that it goes 8, -, 9 rather than 8, 9, then -. Why is that? Because when I was first doing this set up 10 years ago (yes, that long), the buttons on the mouse I had at the time didn't correspond to numbers. They were just extra buttons. I think I was using a Steel Series mouse at that time? Anyway, I screwed up the order when swapping to my Logitech and have never fixed it.]

Finally, bar 1 (the bottom row) is just the standard row of numbers on a keyboard.

With me so far? Good, because now it gets a bit more complicated.

My "Universal" Set Up

"Universal" is in quotation marks because there are exceptions. HOWEVER, this is more or less the standard "rule" I use when setting up bars on a new job and applies across all job types.

Shift + 0 (Shift + G18 on my mouse) is my gap closer for most of my DPS jobs. My middle mouse button is always my disengage/jump back buttons and the cause of many of my deaths on DRG. Shift + Middle Mouse Button is usually assigned to my party buff (though that's not the case here; again, there are slight variations between jobs).

Shift + 7 through = (Shift + G15-G17/G18-G20) vary depending on the job, which I'll explain a little more when I show RDM. Note: I use shift versus ctrl or alt keys because I've never been able to hit those while doing rotations without my hand cramping.

For melee DPS and tanks, numbers 1-4 on Bar 1 are my single target rotation, with 7, 8, and 9 being reserved for my multiple target/AoE rotations. (On RPR, DRG, and now VPR, I make sure that 0 and - are for Flank and Rear positional actions so that I don't have to try to remember positions by ability name.) Remember, for buttons 7 through =, I use my mouse (Buttons G15 - G20) so that left hand doesn't have to stretch too far.

Typical Melee DPS Setup

Pretty much what I said above, but here's what my DRG set up looks like. 5 and 6 are part of my second single target rotation that some melee DPS have. 7 has always been the start of my multiple target rotations when applicable.

RDM Bars

You can see the general setup of "this group of buttons for Single Target" and "This group for Multiple Target/AoE." Also note my middle mouse and shift plus middle mouse buttons are similar to DRG even though DRG is melee DPS versus physical.

Specifc to RDM: Shift + 7, 8, and 9 are my melee combo with Shift + - being for Manification. Shift + = is (Enchanted) Moulinet for AoE.

Please note, the setup does vary on BLM, SMN, and Pictomancer, but in general the same sort of separation between single target and AoE buttons stays the same.

The only other important part I'll add is that I keep Swiftcast plus Verraise on bar 3 in that specific spot, which leads me to Healer. (Yes, I know I have dualcast on RDM, but sometimes it's just quicker for me to use swiftcast then rez especially if I can't stand still in that moment to get off a cast to proc dualcast.)

Healer Setup (WHM Specifically)

While WHM is what's pictured here, I have a similar set-up on all my healers. 1 is always my single target spell with 2 being my DoT. (I have the most experience on WHM and AST with minimal knowledge of SCH and SGE.)

My middle mouse button on my healers are my "OH SHI-" buttons where I need to do an instant burst heal (Benediction, Essential Dignity, etc). Esuna is always my = key/G20 on my mouse. Also note that I keep my swiftcast plus rez button in the same spot.

Tank Setup (DRK)

And finally we have tank. Again, buttons 1-5 are assigned to single target abilities while 7 through - are AoE/multiple target.

Note that instead of a gap closer for my Shift + 0 it's set to Unmend. This is a holdover from when I tried to learn Paladin in World of Warcraft and I assigned that same keybind to shield toss. Now I use this on all tanks for their "Throw something to get an enemy's attention," and set 6 as my gap closer on tanks. Again, it's a thing that makes sense to me.

My middle mouse and shift + middle mouse on Tank are set for stuns and Interject.

And I think that's about all I can think of at the moment. Please note that I use the term "universal" a bit loosely as each job is unique and has its own fiddly bits (such as NIN's combos, VPR's "whatever, just hit a button," or Pictomancer's strange and weirdly fun "rotation").

To the friend that requested this: I know this is more than you bargained for, but feel free to pick my brain over Discord. And if anyone else wants to ask questions, go right ahead I suppose. If you need me, I'll be busy getting all the jobs to 100 and then forgetting how to play them. XD

[qocsuing]

BIGO LIVE Recharge: Unlocking the World of Virtual Gifts

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[ncho3]

ArtGR 520 Journal Entry 4 - Nicole Cho

In class, we presented and viewed many different maps that our classmates made. It was very cool and interesting to see how everyone in class decided to execute the assignment and add their own personal twist or style. I think since this assignment was to break the rules and to do something different, the theme of this week’s journal entry is to embrace and learn from other’s differences and to be open to the fact that not everyone thinks the same.

I am comparing my map with Hannah Dong’s ‘Life Explore Map’ that graphically depicts one’s development and experiences. Her map included many icons and images throughout the map while mine did not have any icons or images. The icons and images within the map were explained to have a lot of symbolic meaning. The design components that were included in the map were dream life, love life, happy life, struggle life, and sustainable life. In her map, it was pretty clear what icons and images were corresponding to each design component as we discussed in class. While there were a lot of colors incorporated into the map, the colors did not seem to have only one meaning. She had mentioned that there was a lot of red and yellow to make it seem related to Iowa State University. In my map, each color, or ranges within a color, meant a different year, so it made color more important. This map represents a lot of different stages in life and has a lot of visuals. Comparing her map to mine, mine did not have a lot of information and did not tell the viewers a lot. A viewer can more easily understand the meaning or components in Hannah’s map compared to mine because mine does not have anything for the viewers to get information about. Both of our maps did not have any words on it, which I really liked because it can make the viewer look more, especially in Hannah’s map because there is much more to see. Contrasting to Hannah’s map where it showed a lot of different components, mine was a lot more personal and only showed my experiences. However, both of our maps showed places, her map being in Ames and my map being in Iowa City.

Overall I think there were more differences between our map than similarities, which I really liked. It made me think about how she thought of the assignment and how she would execute it. Although having more clear boundaries within the assignment description would have made it a little easier to execute, I think it was more interesting at the end to see all the similarities and differences between my map and my classmates. 

Pictured below: my map (top) and Hannah’s map (bottom)

[taylor-swiftfacts]

Taylor Swift Facts turns 10!

(Photo: the oldest header I could find on the Wayback machine, from early 2013)

My fellow Swifties,

Today is the 10-year anniversary of the date I posted the very first SwiftFact. I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been by my side for this amazing journey. This blog has never been just a blog for me - it's been a source of connection, of fun, of support, of appreciation for Taylor and her music.

I began TSF when I was 13, using my home computer. My family had gone through some financial difficulties and, at the time, I didn't even have internet access. I would bring my little USB to the library, save my facts on a Word document, and save the corresponding pictures. I'd go home and make my little posts. I really had no concept of graphic design at the time, so my older posts are honestly quite ugly, but hey. I just wanted to share the information!

I think this blog actually helped me figure out I wanted to be a journalist. I often tell people that I got my degree in journalism because I love learning about things and sharing them with others. That's what I've done here for a decade! Getting the right quotes, deciding which information is most important, even using the inverted pyramid of journalism. I honed a lot of those skills here.

Not to mention, the community that has been here for me. I won't belabor you with my life story, but I used to be quite open about my family struggles on here, and the outpouring of support was always so touching. Some of you even donated money when my family was in need, which is so beautiful and something we all still talk about from time to time. And when my mom passed away, I wasn't posting as frequently, but you all showed me so much love and support anyways. Even though I wasn't giving you much, you gave me everything.

I exchanged Christmas cards for a couple years with tons of you, which made me feel infinitely less lonely. I stopped due to some mental health struggles, but I still have all of your cards, and I see that as a highlight of not only this blog, but of my life. There has been so much real human connection fostered with this little fan blog I created on a whim. I am so grateful.

The craziest thing that has come out of this blog - barring Taylor's follow and even a couple of likes - is the fact that VividSeats gave me tickets to the 1989 tour in 2015. That is one of the top 10 experiences of my life, and I believe it always will be. I can't even express how much that means to me. And maybe I still put the review I wrote for their site on my resume. ;)

All of this is to say, this blog has been an integral part of my growing and changing. Some of my past personal posts on here make me cringe. Some of the facts I would not publish today as the fandom culture has shifted significantly. I learned and grew with this blog. Despite some of the controversy - I feel some people have never liked my blog - the love has kept me going. I am so grateful for every ounce of support anyone here has ever given me.

I apologize for posting sporadically the last few years. Life happens, and I have significantly different priorities than I did in 2012 - I assume we all do - but the reason I've kept posting at all is because I enjoy it. You make it enjoyable. That being said, I'll try my best to get some posts out just in celebration of Midnights and the whirlwind of Taylor content we've gotten the last few years. Even though social media moves so quickly these days, and the format of my blog isn't quite conducive to that anymore, I hope we can all enjoy it. Like the good old days. :)

Even writing all of this, I feel like I can't even begin to express how special this journey has been. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who has ever supported me in any way.

Grace

[wildishmazz]

What is going on in this picture? Are we looking at Dawn Buckland understudying Electra, or are we looking at her dressing up in someone else’s costume for a laugh? The wiki says performance, but it's almost impossibleto cite(fair enough - I know I saw Sam Lane play Princey, but I can’t prove it), so let's do some forensic analysis.

From top to bottom:

The wig is clearly old, and looks too big for her.

No microphone is visible on her forehead, but there is a white blob hovering near her mouth on the left of the picture that could be a mic head. It would be consistent with other Electras; not everyone had their mic glued to their face.

She isn’t wearing elbow pads, despite having gauntlets and gloves on which would have to go on last. The gauntlets do however reach almost all the way down her forearms, so it’s possible that she couldn’t fit elbow pads as well and the decision was made to prioritise the gloves.

The light up chest box is indistinguishable from Richard Mylan’s. Its fabric jacket is hanging loose on her.

That’s a Joule belt, not an Electra belt - fair enough, the men’s belts were in two parts that buckled at the sides, and were only adjustable by a couple of inches. It’s plausible that none of the existing Electra belts would buckle small enough to fit her.

The kneepads, unlike the rest of the hard accessories, are not too big for her.

The unitard fits her perfectly. It would be possible for the legs to be far too long for her without it showing, she could have feet of fabric bunched up around her calves and ankles without it showing, but the full length of the sleeve and torso are visible and there is no excess material to be seen. Additionally, the pattern of the lightning strikes does not match any picture of comparable Electras, where enough detail is visible for a comparison to be made. It is odd that she has a codpiece, though.

Her skates are silver, so she wasn’t about to go on as Ashley, Volta, or Joule. That particular light up chest box didn’t come into the show until 1995, when Dawn Buckland was first cast Ashley - if this picture was taken that year, she must have been covering a silver-skated character higher ranking than Ashley(so Pearl, Dinah, or - perhaps - Electra) to not have bronze skates. If it dates from any later, though, she would have been a swing and much likelier to have silver skates already, to cover Pearl, Dinah, Buffy, or Wrench.

It’s the unitard and the belt that persuade me the most that this was for performance, rather than for fun. If the context was that she was putting on someone else’s costume just to take pictures, there would be no need for the belt to fit properly - she could pose in a belt that was too big with no negative consequences. There would be no need to compromise and substitute in an accessory from a different character’s costume. She would not, however, be able to perform the show with the handles on the back shifting around all over the place - it wouldn’t be safe for other performers who need to trust that they are where they’re supposed to be when skating in a train.

Unitards are cheaper to make than the plastic, leather, and metal accessories. It isn’t far-fetched to believe that an understudy would have their own lycra costume pieces but share accessories. In fact, correspondence from Parsons-Meares in 1987 confirms this to be the case for other productions.

There is a fine old tradition of Starlight Express actors dressing up in each other’s costumes for fun or for muckup matinées, so there’s no absolute guarantee that a backstage picture of a particular actor in a particular costume means that they went on stage wearing it, especially if they are not visibly wired for sound; but there are enough details here that deviate from what one would expect to see if someone was just messing around to persuade me that it’s more likely than not a backstage snap from an actual performance.

[kerasines]

GIF Tutorial for Beginners

People keep asking me to teach them how to make gifs and I end up writing them long confusing messages, so I figured maybe it’s time to just write up an actual clean tutorial instead! This is supposed to be for total beginners! (Or people who want to switch to a new process that I’ve curated and streamlined over 8 years of making gifs.) I’ll try to keep this as barebones as possible, and won’t include all the advanced stuff I usually add. I hope it’s easy enough to follow, and I’ll include some links at the end for more stuff. I really do think it’s better to make a few simple gifs before doing more complicated stuff though, just to get used to it!

There will be three sections in this tutorial: #1 Basics - How to make a gif in PS at all #2 Sharpen - How to use sharpen/denoise filters in an easy way #3 Colouring - Just a few very basic adjustment layers

What you need:

A video (most common formats should work, although .mkv doesn’t always)

Photoshop (I use PS CC 2018 - this one because I'm morally opposed to Adobe’s subscription model - but versions aren’t super different from each other)

In the end, you should hopefully be able to make something like this:

This is gonna be so long. Sorry. You can make a gif with just part #1! The rest is just to make it look better.

#1 Basics

If any of the tools/functions aren’t where they should be for you, your best bet is googling it, you might need to change something in your preferences!

Make sure to save your PS file... often. PS has a tendency to crash, especially on laptops.

First, you need to get the video file. I recommend a shorter video, a few minutes long, if it’s longer you might want to cut it into shorter parts beforehand. This is just because PS’s video import tool sucks.

I chose the Butter MV, specifically Jungkook’s body roll at 1:24 because that’s what I want to look at for the duration of this tutorial. No further questions, thanks.

1. Open PS, go to File > Import > Video Frames to Layers

2. In the little pop-up, choose the part of the video that you want to gif. This will import every frame of the video into PS as a layer, so it has to be a relatively short part, or it’ll take ages (and gifs can’t be that big anyway). Now you can also see why it’s almost impossible to select the correct part if the video is too long.

The little controls at the bottom are for trimming, the one in the middle just for the preview. Make sure “Make Frame Animation” is selected! Then click OK.

3. Now you have your layers, and you have a frame animation! On the right are your layers, that’s where we’ll apply the colouring etc. later on. On the bottom, that’s your timeline or frame animation - that’s what the gif will be in the end! So if you delete frames, the layers will still be there, but they won’t show up in the gif. If you click on a frame, you can see the little eye checkmark on the layer that’s currently visible.

4. The timeline controls at the bottom that are relevant right now: set to “forever” so the gif will loop, you can play the animation with the play button, and you can delete the selected frame(s). The number on each frame is the speed of the gif, depending on the video I usually set it to 0.05 or 0.06 (photoshop lies to you when you play the animation, the only way to test this is to open the finished gif, preferably on tumblr or wherever you want to upload it).

5. As you can see, the animation starts a bit before the actual part that I want, so go ahead and delete all the frames in the animation that you don’t want! You can delete the corresponding layers too if you want, to make the PS file smaller, but it has no influence on the gif. (Hold Shift to select multiple frames as usual)

6. Next, we’re gonna crop the gif however we want! You can do this with the crop tool in the left sidebar, but with gifs like this where there’s a lot of moving parts, I sometimes just use the selection tool in the left sidebar, like so:

When you click on different frames, the selection stays, and you can check to make sure Jungkook doesn’t suddenly go out of frame if you crop it like that!

At this point, make sure the selection/crop isn’t smaller than you want the gif to be! For tumblr, what matters is the width (in pixels) of gifs. In the end, the width dimensions on tumblr should be 540px (1 gif per row), 268px (2 gifs per row), or 177/178px (3 gifs per row). Anything else will lead to very shitty resizing!

For this gif I’m going full sized, meaning 540px wide, so I made sure my selection isn’t smaller than that.

Then just go to Image > Crop, and it’s done!

7. Check to see if this is what you want, then resize: go to Image > Image Size to resize the picture. Make sure the little “link” between Width and Height is active (to keep the same aspect ratio), then set the width to 540px or whatever you chose. I always set the resample option to Bicubic.

Once that’s done, set the zoom to 100% right above the timeline, to see what it really looks like.

Almost done! A little note about the sizing: width is the important part for tumblr, but if you want to make a whole gif set (especially with more than 1 gif per row!!!) make sure to make all the gifs the same height, otherwise they won’t line up and tumblr will do whatever it wants.

I ended up making mine 540 x 400 and ended up with this:

8. Time to save the gif!! Go to File > Export > Save for Web (OR just use the shortcut Ctrl + Shift + Alt + S) (or whatever it is on Mac).

In the pop-up, you can change things about the gif, but most things should already be the way you want it (Image size, Looping option forever). Selective should be the default, just like the rest.

You can choose between Pattern and Diffusion, some gif makers swear on one or the other, I go back and forth.

On the bottom left, you can see the size of your gif. Keep an eye on that! I believe Tumblr allows every single gif to be up to 10mb, but I try to keep mine under 5mb or close to it, because I think tumblr adds compression if it gets closer to 10mb?? Anyway back in my day you couldn’t upload anything over 1mb. You’ll never know our struggles.

Then just save it, and that’s it, you made a gif! Well done!! Here’s the end result:

:)

#2 Sharpen

There are countless ways out there to make gifs as smooth and clean as possible! Here I’ll show you the easiest way, but it also provides a good basis for other methods. The main difficulty is that you you need to sharpen the layers, but you don’t want to 100 layers one by one. So what we’re gonna do is convert the layers into a Smart Object, which functions as one layer!

1. Convert the frame animation timeline to a video timeline with the little button right underneath on the left:

It should look like this, and I’m sorry but I can’t explain this one because I’m not an expert here, but you can just ignore it:

2. Select all layers: Select > All Layers, or just manually. 

Then right click on the layers > Convert to Smart Object. Now there’s only one layer left, but don’t worry, the frames are still there!

3. De-noise! It reduces noise, takes away some of that grain. More necessary in some videos. It also makes it less sharp, so I do this one first. Filter > Noise > Reduce Noise

My default settings are, Strength: 6, Preserve Details: 60, Reduce Color Noise: 45, Sharpen Details: 25, Remove JPEG Artifact: No. But you can play around, especially with the strength, and see how the little preview looks. Don’t apply too much of it! Or it will look weirdly smooth with no details in the end.

4. File > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen. 

Settings: I usually have mine at Amount: 500, Reduce Noise: 5, and Radius at either 0.2 or 0.3, depending on the video. I’ll actually do 0.3 here, because I find it a bit blurry otherwise. If you sharpen more, it can quickly get grainy.

The difference isn’t huge, but here’s a little before and after denoise & sharpen:

5. Technically you can just save it as a gif (save for web) as shown above now, or you can convert it back to a frame animation, which I’d recommend especially if you use certain other sharpening methods (I’ll show you how to convert it back at the end of the colouring part), but for now, let’s go straight to the next part:

#3 Colouring

Now, you CAN do this part right after part #1, still in frame animation, without a smart object. I prefer it like this because sometimes PS acts weird, but if you want to skip the smart object stuff: select all frames, and add the adjustment layers at the very top, above all the other layers. (It only affects selected frames; and it only affects the layers under it.)

The adjustment layers should be above the layer tray, and these are the ones we’ll use today: Brightness/Contrast, Curves, Vibrance, Color Balance, Selective Color.

All of these are optional! You can do one, or all, or any combination. This is just the very most basic for me to get a gif to a point that I like. I’d recommend sticking to these for a start, but once you get the hang of it, definitely feel free to play around! It’s fun! Every gif maker has different preferences here, too, so there’s tutorials for everything.

1. Curves: Just click Auto, tbh. You can play around, but Auto works fine for me as a start, just to brighten or darken some parts as a base.

2. Brightness/Contrast: Usually videos are a bit dark, and contrast can help to make it seem sharper AND cut down on gif size, so I usually just up both of them a bit (but not too much! Or it’ll look cheap). Here I put them at B: 19, C: 23

3. Vibrance: I love very vibrant and colourful gifs, so I usually up the vibrance (and sometimes the saturation). This one is already very vibrant, so I only put +5, but if you try to colour, say, a very moody tv show, this can help wonders, especially if you want to work with the colours more later.

If you prefer less vibrant gifs, you can also lower the values here!

4. Color Balance: getting a bit more complicated now. Often, videos will have a slight yellow or green or blue tint, and this is where you can correct that. This video is a bit yellow, so I added +17 Blue. It was still too warm, so i added -11 Cyan as well. This neutralized the yellow tint, but I wanted some of the reddish tone back, so I added -5 Magenta. I usually do a similar process like that, depending on the tone. 

Instead of Midtones, you can also do this for Shadows and Highlights individually.

5. Selective Color: now this is the most complicated, but also the most fun to play around in my opinion! Be careful here, if you do something too extreme it’ll look like shit or make the gif super grainy. I some rough goals in mind here: make the blue hair as blue as possible, make their skin tone a bit less pale, and enhance the black and white (which I always do).

You choose a colour at the top, and then add or subtract cyan/magenta/yellow/black values for that colour.

Skin tone: yellow and red. For this gif, I just added black to both, making them darker. Sometimes, if you change one or both those colours for a different part of the gif (for example, if I wanted to make the background less yellow, I’d subtract yellow from the yellows - but then I’d add yellow to the reds, to make the skin tone natural again.)

Blue hair: Just ramp up the cyan for the blues. Be careful with putting anything to +100, but here it’s already so bright that it should be fine. His roots are more purple, so I changed the magentas by adding cyan and black, and subtracting magenta and yellow. It’s not super clean, but fine for our purposes.

Black/white: depending on the gif, I often either add or subtract black to the whites. Adding makes the highlights less blinding, a bit darker, and flatter (I like to do that if one side of the face is bright white in the sunlight, for example). Subtracting creates contrast, makes it brighter, can wash it out. It can also lessen the gif size, and here it’s mostly just the tracksuit instead of important details, so I subtracted black. For the blacks, I almost always just add a bit of black, to make it more intense. Just like adding contrast, this can make the gif seem sharper and less grainy.

And done! 

6. You could just save it as gif now, but as I said, I prefer to convert it back to frame animation timeline first, if only because I like to let it play through before I save it, and it works better for me there than in the video timeline.

Select all frames, then click the little menu on the top right of the video timeline > Convert Frames > Flatten Frames into Clips

7. When you scroll down to the bottom of the layers now, the old smart object + adjustment layers should be at the bottom, under all the new layers. Delete the old ones, we don’t need them anymore.

8. Convert the timeline back to frame animation, by clicking the little button at the bottom left of the video timeline:

9. Click on the menu top right of the timeline again > Make Frames from Layers

10. Now, just some potential cleaning left to do. Sometimes, there’s a doubled or empty frame or layer at the beginning or end, just delete those as necessary. The timing of the frames is probably off, too, just select all frames and set the delay time to 0.05 (or whatever).

Now your done! Save as gif, and you should get this:

I included some bonus links and tips after this but tumblr ate that whole part so I guess it’s going into a separate post. (Here is is)

Anyway, I tried to make this as easy to follow as possible for beginners, but feel free to send me an ask for clarification anytime. Hope this helps, now go make gifs and have fun!!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Bloom // H.P.

Summary: Healing doesn't happen overnight. It’s a process that can take months, if not, years to come to terms with. It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War. Harry finally feels ready to confront feelings that have long been sat, growing unattended in the recesses of his mind and soul.

A/N: This was inspired by the made-up fic title that I did a few weeks ago. I got so stuck on this, I couldn't get any further, but inspiration somewhat struck and here we are. I know this is long, but I am so so proud of this, I would love some interaction with this. Take a chance, please.

Warnings: feelings of sadness, grief, worthlessness, more visits to graveyards, talks of death. This sounds dark, and parts are, but there is so much fluff and comfort and pining in this.

Word count: 9.4k

Harry’s Flat, London, England, October.

For the fourth night this week, sleep evades him. Deciding to surrender this particular battle, Harry sits up in bed and reaches for his glasses on the bedside table.

With clearer vision, he turns to the digital clock next to where he places his glasses. He hangs his head in his hands when he reads the time. not even two hours of sleep before he awoke; his mind unwilling to alleviate him long enough for him to fall into a dreamless sleep.

He supposes it could be a good thing, or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he throws the covers off his body and swings his legs out of bed. As he sits on the edge of his bed, Harry gives himself a moment.

He gives himself only a single moment to give into the tidal wave threatening to drown him. A single moment simply to feel everything before he packs it all away into corresponding drawers in his mind.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he plods into the living room and through to the kitchen. As he boils the kettle, he thinks of you and your ingrained belief that everything can be put to rights over a cup of tea.

Settling in the living room, he grabs the remotes for the television. Turning it on, he switches the volume to mute, not wanting loud noises, but rather the comfort of monotonous moving pictures. Harry cannot tell what the programme is; a muggle show dedicated to archaeology, he thinks, but he pays it little mind.

He runs a hand down his face; feeling the tiredness deep within his bones. The insomnia had started in the months after the end of the war; beginning with repetitive nightmares in which he would suffer through the deaths of his friends countless times before being awoken by the sounds of his own screams. From there, it shifted into a fear of sleep, a terror of closing his eyes and seeing Hermione’s or Ron’s lifeless bodies. He knows – he knows they are alive and well, but the fear remains.

He wonders how long he’ll continue to feel like this should do nothing; how long he will deal with the sleepless nights and the nightmares that greet him when he does close his eyes.

However, as he watches the soundless pictures play on the television, he cannot help but feel an urge to get better. To do better and to be better in all that he does. At the age of eighteen, he defeated the darkest wizard to have ever walked the earth in the last century. At the age of twenty three, five years later, he feels close to laughter that he has let his life come to this.

But no-one warned him of the aftermath of the war. No-one readied him for the feelings of guilt that twists his stomach; leaving him unable to eat. No-one explained to him just how long the nightmares would last; seeing the faces of those that fell at the battle of Hogwarts and before as he tries and tries to dream of happy things.

Harry’s bottom lip begins to wobble. The tears won’t fall. It’s been years, Harry thinks, since he had cried in earnest.

As Harry sits on his couch for the fourth night that week, he readies himself to start putting his life back together again.

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, October.

The Burrow had always, to Harry at least, been a place full of happy memories. The home of the Weasley family physically exuded warmth and happiness. To put it bluntly, it was Harry’s safe haven; the place he could go where he would find no judgement for his state of sleeplessness or lack of appetite. He would catch Molly watching him worriedly, but she knew not to press, and for that, he was thankful. To appease her worries, or at least to lessen them slightly, he visits the Weasley matriarch once a week.

Immediately, Harry is wrapped up in hug after hug. Molly keeping her hands on Harry’s cheeks as she moves his head side to side, getting a good look at him. She clamps her lips together to keep the frown from forming on her face; worry rises in her gut, but she does not voice it.

The food cooking on the stove has Harry’s mouth watering as he walks through the kitchen to the large table in the dining area. There, he finds your eyes. They remain on the door as he walks through, as if you knew it wouldn’t be long before he entered.

“Mate,” Ron greets; pushing a drink into Harry’s hand. Harry nods at Ron, taking a swig of his drink before smiling at Hermione.

He moves to sit next to you; wanting nothing more than to sit by your side so he can tell his plan of which he came up with by himself. All around him conversation continues as if he had never walked in in the first place. He supposes that’s bit big-headed of him to think, but as he looks around those he classes as his family, he comes to realisation that they’ve all started to move on.

It hits him then and there; just how terrified he is of being left behind.

“How have you been?” You ask; voice gentle and caring as you lean into him.

Harry smiles at you; spooning vegetables onto his plate but feeling no pangs of hunger. “You just saw me last week,” Harry reminds in humour; his attempt at avoiding the twinges of fear ravaging his gut.

You roll your eyes, “That means it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. So, how have you been?”

Harry hears the meaning in your words; he hears the undercurrent of worry in your voice, and it only adds to the pit growing in his stomach. After his decision the other night, it was as if all the realisations hit him at once and he came to see just how much of a bad friend he had been to you all. He’d had been so caught up in his self-loathing that he failed to see just how much you were struggling with it all; he hadn’t even noticed that Ron and Hermione had also sought out help too.

Harry nods; reaching for his knife and fork, “I’ve been okay.”

Even he can hear the lie in his voice, and it makes him sick to his stomach. Thankfully, you don’t address it. You simply nod; patting his hand twice before turning your attention to your own meal.

Cutlery scrapes on plates as happy conversation lightens the atmosphere. It isn’t mentioned, but it is there – the absence of Fred’s laughter and his smile, the pointed comments, and his love for his mother. It is there, and it only adds to the guilt pooling in Harry’s stomach and invading his bloodstream.

It’s as if you sense it; as if you sense Harry starting to spiral, his thoughts turning to that dark place that he so often finds himself in. It’s as if you know; changing the hand in which your fork sits to free up your other hand so you can take Harry’s under the table and squeeze. A silent reminder if there is any.

I’m here, you remind him, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Harry squeezes back; unable to do or say anything else, meeting Arthur Weasley’s pained eyes from across the table, and beginning to wish that he had in fact done and said more.

At the age of eighteen years old, harry defeated the darkest wizard in a century. Yet, he had lost a friend he had classed as a brother, and now finds it hard to look Molly and Arthur in the eye.

There is a lapse in conversation and Harry slips his hand free of yours, needing to leave the room before the guilt he’s sitting in drowns him. He smiles apologetically at each Weasley, eyes lingering on the empty chair across from George and promptly leaves the room.

The night air is cold against Harry’s bare arms as he sits on one of the many benches littering the Weasley’s gardens. It’s so cold that his breath is coming out in white puffs, but he doesn’t feel the need to fetch his coat. In fact, he would rather feel the cold against his skin. It reminds him that he’s alive and that he’s breathing. It reminds him of those are who no longer living.

He stiffens at the sounds of footsteps behind him; his hand immediately reaching for his wand kept in his back pocket.

Harry relaxes somewhat when he realises it was you who followed him outside, and not Ron or Hermione. He doesn’t turn, but he smiles when he hears you swear quietly, having tripped on a rogue stone.

You sigh as you sit down on the bench next to him; rubbing at your sore knee.

“How are you not freezing?” You ask; rubbing at your clothed arms, not happy with the chill seeping through to your bones.

Harry releases a breath; it puffs white, “I don’t feel it.”

You raise an eyebrow; running a finger over his arm which is covered in goosebumps, “I beg to differ.”

Harry doesn’t reply; he flashes a smile your way before returning his attention to the night sky and all that he can see of what the Weasley’s own. For a few minutes, no words are spoken between you both. Sinking into a silence that could only be described as comfortable; he doesn’t feel the constant need to reassure you that he’s okay. You check in on him every now and then, but no true pestering takes place.

Truthfully, Harry basks in your attention. He rather likes the fact that you do make a fuss of him when you check in on him because he’s sure that without you, he would be doing a lot worse than the nightmares and insomnia.

Breaking the silence, you broach the subject of Harry’s health, “Harry, can I give you the name and number of my therapist? I’ve made real progress since working with her, and I think you will too.”

Harry smiles at you; feeling grateful for your help but feeling like an awful friend for shaking his head and declining your offer. “I just… I don’t feel ready yet to speak to someone.”

You nod your head, “I get that, but Harry, it’s been five years since the end of the war, and you know how I worry.”

He nods, letting the conversation collapse into nothing in front of him. This is the time, he realises, to tell you his plans for getting better that don’t involve divulging his deepest and darkest secrets to a stranger, even if they are a trained professional.

“I have a favour to ask you,” Harry prompts, “And I’ll understand if you say no.”

“If I can help you, Harry, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want to speak to anyone, not yet at least, but I do want to start moving on.”

“So what’s the favour?” You ask; your curiosity piqued with his mystery.

“I want to visit the places where things have happened, whether they’re good or bad. I want to go back, and I want to see them in a different light.”

“That,” You pause; thinking of your next words, “That sounds like a really good idea, Harry. Where do I come into it though?”

Harry smiles at you sheepishly; running a hand through his forever messy hair. “I want you to come with me,” He states as plain as day.

“What?”

“I’d like for you to come with me,” Harry amends, “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“What about Ron or Hermione? I’m sure they would help.”

Harry shakes his head, “They’re both so busy, and they’re starting their lives together. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for either of them if I can help it.”

You sigh, picking at an invisible thread on your sleeve, “How were you thinking of doing this? I have to work too, you know. Not everyone can inherit a fortune, Potter.”

Harry blinks, letting your words settle before a small smile breaks across his face, “You’d come with me?”

“Harry,” You start, “I don’t think there was any chance of me saying no to you. If I can help you in any way, I can. I’m always here for you.”

The familiar burn of tears starts at the back of his throat. Harry has to avert his eyes; glancing up at the night sky as he swallows past the lump in his throat. He should have known you would say yes; you’ve been by his side for everything since Third Year, but the small voice in the back of his mind had him doubting whether you would.

“Thank you,” He whispers eventually.

“So,” You begin, “Where too first?”

Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, November.

Upon the untimely death of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been passed down to Harry through Sirius’ will. Sirius had no children for the house to go to, but Harry was as good as.

Standing on a residential street in Islington, you watched as the house appeared as if from nowhere. Appearing amongst number eleven and number thirteen as if it had always been there; as if it was part of the furniture at this point.

Thick dust covers each and every surface. Simply opening the door sends a cloud of dust into your face; leaving you coughing and sneezing as Harry battles the enchantments placed upon the home after the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Turning your gaze to Harry, you could remember the last time you had stepped foot in the ancestral home of the house of Black. It hadn’t been long after Sirius’ death; Harry’s gut-wrenching screams still echoing in your ears as you had bundled him up in any blankets you could find and sat him down at the kitchen table.

He hadn’t spoken much; he hadn’t even cried. Instead, his face set in steely determination, his desperate need to avenger his godfather overriding any common sense. That night, instead of comforting him and drying his eyes, it had been argument after argument, trying to make Harry see sense.

It took hours; the both of you tired not only from the arguing but from the grief sitting on your shoulders. It took hours, but Harry eventually agreed with you, choosing to sit back and wait for the right moment instead of lunging headfirst into attack that would surely get him killed.

Memory after memory washes over you, dragging you into its grips. If the memories are this strong for you, it was not hard to imagine how it must be for Harry.

You focus your attention on him, watching him warily as he wanders further down the hallway, heading for the kitchen where you still expect to hear Sirius’ raucous laugh despite years having passed since his death.

“How are you feeling?” You ask; running a finger across the now clean surface of the kitchen table.

Harry releases a shuddering breath. “I thought,” He starts, “I thought by coming here it would help me come to terms with Sirius and what happened in the Department of Mysteries but being here simply makes me hate his family more.”

“What makes you say that?”

Harry gestures to the large room. “He hated being here. He despised being locked up in the house that he left at sixteen, but he wanted to help the Order, so he stayed here and let it be used as the headquarters.”

“That… That is a very noble thing to do,” You murmur, eyes fixed on the man in front of you, taking in his tight fists and clenched jaw.  

Harry laughs without humour, “The noble house of Black.”

Silence lapses and the tension in the room only increases. Biting your lip, you can only think that this was the wrong thing to do, that this is only pushing Harry further away instead of helping him come to terms with the last years of his life.

“We can leave, Harry,” You remind him, “We can leave right now and do this another day, when you’re more ready.”

He shakes his head, shaking himself out of his funk but also steadfastly refusing to go. He’s made this far; he’ll see it through to the end. He throws you a smile; it doesn’t reach his eyes and your heart cracks a little.

Holding a hand out to you, Harry states, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

The room he enters is one he has told you about countless times; describing it with so much detail that as you enter the room behind him you feel as if you’ve already been inside.

It cannot be denied that the tapestry is nothing short of piece of art. It cannot be ignored that the depth of detail to the Black family tree is not breathtaking, but at the same time it is so utterly heartbreaking to see the scorch marks litter the walls. The consequence of turning against one’s own family, you think as you step further into the room, taking in its beauty but also its darkness.

“The noble house of Black,” Harry spits, gesturing to four walls, pointing at each scorch mark before settling on the one that once showed the portrait of his beloved godfather.

“He got out,” He states brokenly, “He left his blood family to live with his found family. He had a life ahead of him. He had my father, he had Remus. He had his family, and it was all taken away in one night. In one night, Sirius lost his best friend and then his freedom.

“And all I feel when I think about Sirius is anger. At how he was treated. He was good, (Y/N),” Harry states, his tone pleading, full of emotion, “He was good, and he was treated like shit. His real family didn’t care but his found family did and then he lost all of it.”

“He found you, Harry,” You remind him, “Sirius found you. You didn’t have half as long with him than what you should have, but he made sure to be involved in your life. After the Triwizard Tournament and you had come back with Cedric, Sirius would not leave your side in the hospital. I remember seeing him every morning and he would stay every night. He loved you, Harry – remember that.”

“And what did I do?” Harry laughs, “I got him killed. Some godson I am.”

“Harry, you are not to blame for Sirius’ death.”

He scoffs, disbelief and derision echoing off the walls. You stalk over the green eyed man, your determination growing with every step. You grab his face in both your hands, bringing his face to your level, “Listen to me, Potter. Are you listening?”

He nods, eyes wide and voice silent.

“Good,” You smirk before turning serious. “You are not to blame for Sirius’ death. He knew what was happening in the Department of Mysteries. He knew that there was a chance he was not going to come out of there alive and he still went in to find you, to protect you.”

“If I had paid more attention to what Voldemort showed me though… I could have figured out it was fake…”

You shake your head, “You were a sixteen year old boy, barely trained in occlumency and legilimency. You weren’t to know that what you had seen was fake. All you saw, Harry, was someone you care about being tortured. You acted on instinct.”

“Foolish instinct,” He argues.

You roll your eyes, “Not foolish at all. More brave than foolish.”

Harry remains silent; letting your words sink into his skin, binding them to his bones. It isn’t going to be as simple as one speech and all is forgiven, it is going to take time to forgive himself for the death of his godfather. There is always going to be an element of himself that believes strongly that he was the cause of Sirius’ death; if he hadn’t acted so rashly, if he had stopped to think things through, to go over exactly what Voldemort had shown him, Harry might have been able to delay Sirius’ death.

If, if, if.

If, if, if. He repeats that word; hindsight is a wonderful thing. If he had done this, if he had done that. Hindsight was going to be the death of him.

Harry focuses his attention back on you and the warmth of your hands on either side of his face. Gently, Harry places his hands on top of yours, “Can you let go of me now?”

You smile before pursing your lips, pretending to think through the answer. “I don’t know,” You ponder, “Are you going to continue to argue with me?”

“Probably,” Harry admits, “But I’m ready to go now.”

Harry lets his hands drop from yours, his eyes running over your face before stepping back. Your hands drop to your sides, clenching as if they wished to be touching him some more. His face feels cold now that you’ve let him go, as if all the warmth his body carried was in your hands.

“Do you think you’ll come back?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

Harry pauses, closing the door to the Black family tree behind him. He looks up and down the hallway; thinking of the memories he has cherished over the years. He had Sirius in his life for far shorted than he deserved, but he had Grimmauld Place to help him discover the man he idolised.

Meeting your stare, he nods. “I think I will eventually.”

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scottish Highlands, December.

It didn’t matter how long it had been since your last visit; it didn’t matter how long it had been since you roamed the corridors of the place you once considered your second home, seeing Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry rise out of the Scottish Highlands would never be something you could get used to.

From your spot in Hogsmeade, you can just make out the turrets of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers. Slight unease spreads through your chest as you think back to the last time you had been at the school; still a student, hurling curses and jinxes at any Death Eater that happened by you.

Reflexively, you curl your hands into fists, your fingernails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. You gasp slightly as the pain; your mind becoming clearer and your focus becoming sharper. Harry’s hand takes yours; unfurling your fingers and replacing them with him, tangling your hands together.

“(Y/N), are you okay?”

You take a deep breath; mentally working through the exercises given to you by your therapist,. Shakily, you smile at Harry, “I’m okay, Harry, don’t worry about me. How are you feeling?”

His eyebrows furrow as he squeezes your hand. “I’ll always worry about you,” He says gently before continuing, “I’ll be okay though. I have you.”

You smile weakly; letting yourself be led through the well-worn path from Hogsmeade to the school. Small conversation is made; Harry bringing up happier memories of your education at the magical castle. The time when Ron received a Howler from his mother; the time when Hermione punched Draco Malfoy in the face.

Happier times now turned to memories; each one tinted with age.

Hogwarts soon looms in front of you both. Harry’s hand tightens on yours, fingers squeezing to the point of cutting off blood flow as he leads you into the grounds of the school.

It feels like coming home, but it also feels like facing your worst enemy. The Battle of Hogwarts had been hard on everyone who found themselves there; it had been hard for students and teachers. You would never forget the screams and the sound of breaking stone. It would be a long while until the sight of dead bodies could be scrubbed from your mind.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall greets from the stairs; voice warm and fond, “To what do we the pleasure of this visit with Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“I was hoping to walk the school and its grounds for a bit, Professor. If you don’t mind, that is. I’m trying to get better,” Harry states; sincerity ringing in his voice so much so that even McGonagall looked to be taken aback by his words.

She nods; finding her voice but needing to clear her throat first of all the emotion he had brought up, “Of course, Potter. Take as long as you need.”

Harry smiles at the beloved Professor gratefully, stretching out a hand towards you. You take it, resisting the urge to tangle your fingers together as Harry leads you to the Great Hall. “Where do you want to start?” You ask; eyes scanning the familiar walls, lingering on the Gryffindor table.

“I don’t know,” Harry admits, sounding lost as his eyes dance around the repaired room.

“It’s strange for me too,” You whisper, voice loud in the cavernous hall.

“It was entirely destroyed,” Harry recalls, sweeping his gaze over the large wall of windows by the Ravenclaw table.

You hope up on the closest table, crossing your legs as you watch Harry work through it all in his mind. He hadn’t been in the hall too long, but even that was long enough to have to branded into your memories.

“The tables were pushed back against the wall,” He states, gesturing to both walls before sweeping his hands above the floor, “And bodies were laid out on the floor, resting on blankets and towels,” Harry turns towards the staff table, pointing to a flagstone just in front of it, “That was where Fred laid – Molly and George crying over his body,” Harry spins, his finger now pointing back in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, “Remus and Tonks rested there. Teddy, my Godson, now an orphan… like me.”

“So many lives lost,” He whispers brokenly; eyes lined with tears that won’t fall, no matter how sad or broken he feels.

You slip off the table, going to his side and clutching his hand. “We lost a lot that day,” You whisper, “There isn’t a person here who doesn’t feel that same loss, Harry.”

“I was terrified of finding you laid out in the Great Hall,” Harry admits though not for his own good; he’s coming too close to admitting his feelings for you, but this is something he had never told a living soul, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to tell you.

“What?” You ask, all thoughts emptying out of your head as you focus on Harry entirely.

“I was terrified of finding you in the Great Hall. I was so scared that I even hesitated at the door, wondering whether to walk in or walk away. I have dealt with a lot, and will continue to deal with a lot, but if there is one thing I cannot cope with the idea of, it is you hurt or worse,” He takes a deep breath, “The Battle of Hogwarts brought that out of me.”

“I’m here, Harry,” You reassure, “I’m here and I’m whole.”

“I know that now, but then I didn’t and even thinking of it drives me close to madness.”

“I wouldn’t leave without saying anything,” You laugh, “You know that Harry.”

Harry laughs, but there’s no heart to it. “I have you now, that’s something.”

Your heart skips a beat; thudding in your chest so loud you believe that it is entirely possible that Harry could hear it pounding away in your chest. You lean in, hiding your face in Harry’s shoulder – a rare moment of tenderness from both of you. Harry’s hand slips from yours to wrap around your waist, holding you to his body.

Hiding your smile in Harry’s shoulder, you murmur as loud as you dare, “You have me now, Harry. You have me forever.”

Neither of you make it further around the grounds of the castle; sticking to its interiors, wandering the corridors when students are firmly placed in classrooms, not wanting to be a distraction to their education.

Harry’s words continue to play through your mind; how he would not be able to cope if he lost you too. It makes this all more important for you, helping him come to terms with what he has experienced in such a short amount of time.

However, a small part of you rejoices in his admission, the words echoing in your head with a hint of hope. A hope that Harry may feel the same as you after all.

Hogwarts is left with a wave to McGonagall and a promise to write soon. Harry’s muscles relax the further he gets from the castle; the tension leeching away as he breathes in fresh air and Hogsmeade comes into view. He adored Hogwarts; it was his home, but he had to admit that it would be a while before he could face the whole castle without wanting to scream at the walls.

It’s a start however, Harry thinks as he grabs your hands and apparates the two of you back to his flat. It’s a start, he thinks, and now for the rest of it.

Little Hangleton, England, January.

Little Hangleton resides six miles from its paired village Great Hangleton. Little Hangleton was very much a village that was powered through gossip; the rumour mill only grew upon the deaths of the Riddle family. By the time an arrest had been made, the town had become judge, jury and executioner – sentencing poor Frank Bryce to a life of social exclusion even after being proven innocent.

Little Hangleton is made up of one main high street; five or six shops with a pub near the middle. It has a small village green where the local cricket team likes to practice every Saturday morning. It isn’t an extraordinary village; plain in comparison to other dwellings, but it’s history with the Riddle family would go down in wizarding lore until the end of days.

Harry continues to hold onto your hand long after you apparate into the village, landing in side street rather than in the high street as not to attract too much attention from the villagers. You refuse to be the first to let go; admitting to yourself that you rather like the way his hands fits in yours, how it feels like a steady anchor holding you in place.

Taking one look at the dark haired man next to you, you knew in your gut that this was going to be a hard day for him. Harry doesn’t talk about his nightmares often, but form what he has told you, this picturesque village features enough that you can see the tension line Harry’s jawline.

Nudging his shoulder, you smile softly, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry’s hand tightens on yours. He doesn’t reply verbally; nods his head and focuses on finding his destination. He can’t verbalise his gratefulness; he cannot put it into words just what this means to him because Harry is fairly certain there are no words to cover the scope of what he feels for you in this very moment.

He knew he was asking a lot of you to keep doing this; to visit these places and relive his darkest times with him. He knew it affected you more than you admitted, but he still was selfishly grateful you choose to come every time.

He thinks that he wouldn’t have been as half as productive with his feelings if it wasn’t for you. Harry’s feelings for you only having grown through these visits; he remains in awe of you, as he always has been, but now he can no longer deny himself the depth of his love for you. To deny himself that would be a grievous crime.

However, even Harry is aware that he is nowhere ready to confront the idea of a relationship. In the last few months, he has only been able to accept that Sirius’ death and your injuries at the Battle of Hogwarts were not his fault.

He has to keep working on himself; he has to keep healing so he can be worthy of a love like his parents had.

So for now, Harry is more than content to hold your hand with each apparition, to savour the way your hand fits in his perfectly and how each squeeze of your fingers sets his heart racing.

For now, Harry is happy to remain in the throes of puppy love, but still eager for the day when he can proclaim his love for you in the hopes that you feel the same.

Such thoughts are thrown out of his head when his eyes catch the sign for graveyard. His steps falter, before coming to a brief stop by the sign. Your free hand touches his arm and Harry turns to you, seeing the question reflected in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” He asks, voicing the unspoken question.

You nod, “Ready when you are.”

The graveyard looks just as it did all those years ago; dark and miserable.

You shiver as Harry pushes open the creaky metal gate. He holds the gate open for you out of politeness, but he does not return your smile of gratitude. Harry keeps his facial expression neutral as he turns to face the memories that still plague him all these years later.

His eyes run over the gravestones as he puts one wary foot in front of the other. You follow behind him timidly, footsteps slower as you too read over the names written in marble, granite, limestone.

It doesn’t take long to find the place. Harry’s feet take him there automatically despite the fact that the last time he was here, he had been apparated in and did not walk out.

The Reaper stands proudly among the gravestones; his scythe crossed against his body in readiness. Harry stills, coming to a stop in front of it. He tilts his face; staring into the faceless stone hood of the figure that had him trapped like prey all those years ago.

Harry doesn’t turn from the figure as he points directly behind him. “That is where he killed Cedric,” He states bluntly, hearing the thud the Hufflepuff’s body made as he landed lifeless at Harry’s side.

Your eyes leave Harry; body tensing as you make eye contact with the patch of grass that would be the last thing to touch Cedric’s body.

Harry finally turns; gaining control of the anger and upset that had been raging in his body since landing at the graveyard gates. He needs to approach this carefully; he needs to approach all of this carefully, so he doesn’t fall back into the dark pit he found himself in months ago.

Harry gestures to the centre of the small copse and then to the Reaper, “That is where I had to watch as Voldemort rose again.”

“Oh Harry…” You whisper, voice breaking as you say his name.

Harry’s eyes shutter closed, and his bottom lip begins to wobble. He had been fourteen years old; he had not had his first kiss and yet, he had to duel the darkest wizard to have been produced in a century.

“I thought I was going to die that night,” He confesses after a moment; opening his eyes to once again focus on the faceless depiction of Death himself. “I thought I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

Resolve steels your nerves and once again, your feet find their way to Harry.

“You did make it out, Harry. You made it out alive.”

“Two of us went in, (Y/N).”

“It can’t be ignored,” You start, “Cedric’s death was an utter tragedy; completely unexpected and blindsided everyone in the school, but you cannot blame yourself for this, Harry. Cedric died at the hands of a madman – not you.”

“I could have done something!” He screams, finally losing all grip on his temper, “I should have done something. Instead, as Wormtail murdered Cedric, all I did was shout his name as if it was going to help. I did nothing, I as good as murdered him.”

Breath leaves your body in one fell swoop; you had never seen Harry like this. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration as he tries to get a hold on his temper, reigning it in. You remain silent as Harry works to control himself; you watch him pace the small copse, flattening the green grass under his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“Harry,” You sigh, “I am more than capable of handling you shouting at me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong though, and I just take everything out on you.”

You laugh, short and sweet, “I think this is the first time you’ve ever shouted at me, Potter.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I try not to make a habit of shouting at my friends,” Harry states, throwing you a look that states the obvious.

Wringing your hands together, you brace yourself for your next words. Meeting Harry’s stare, fixing your gaze on him, you politely demand, “Tell me more about that night, Harry.”

So he does.

It comes rushing out of him in a torrent; words flying so fast that his speech gets muddled up and he sometimes has to say his sentences again. For so long he has been holding this in; there are very few people who know what happened that night in this very graveyard and out of those, many are dead or imprisoned so Harry has been left to deal with the pain.

It feels like a confession. It feels as if he is seeking forgiveness from his crimes; seeking repentance from a priest of his choosing because he needs to get it out, he needs to know whether penance is possible for the sins committed that night.

Harry feels as if a weight is being lifted off his chest as he tells you about duelling Voldemort and the spell that had taken place beforehand. Harry seeks solace in your comforting gaze and reassuring smile as his voice breaks when he speaks of his parents, not having seen them in any physical form since that night with the Mirror of Erised.

Once he starts, he finds it hard to stop. He stutters over his feelings over Cedric’s death, pausing once in a while to let you interject a thought and for the first time since starting this exercise, since asking you to come along with him, Harry feels as if it is starting to work.

Eventually, his voice falls quiet as does his mind.

“How do you feel?” You ask; an expected question that accompanies each location visited.

Harry nods, “Better. Happy to have finally said what happened that night.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell you.”

“I trust you with my life,” He states honestly and plainly.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze to wander across the dark graveyard once more before finally turning to face Harry. “Are you ready?”

Harry nods: more than happy to leave this place and never return. What happened in Little Hangleton will always remain a heartbreaking tragedy; a life cruelly taken before it even got the chance to begin. The village would always be stained with such misfortune, but now, Harry feels that part of his life come to a close.  

As Harry reaches for your hand, readying himself to apparate you back to your flat, his heart soars at the words you utter with conviction.

“You’re a good man, Harry.”

--------

Landing back at his flat, Harry takes a seat on his couch and hangs in his head in his hands. He had dropped you off at your flat; needing to be alone to deal with the emotions that had been threatening to suffocate him from the inside out. Whilst Harry had accepted that he played no part in Cedric’s death, he still had to confront the magnitude of what had happened to himself.

It hits him all at once; the scale of what he had been through throughout his education. From the ages of eleven to eighteen, Harry hadn’t seen a school year through without injury or battle. It’s as he sits there that he realises the extent to which he was used by the headmaster he looked up to; used as a pawn to further the game of chess being played by Dumbledore and Voldemort.

The waves never cease; his parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, and Cedric.

No tears fall; he isn’t sure he has the capacity to cry anymore. Tears haven’t fallen since they fell out relief for the end of the war, but out of sadness for the deaths of Fred, Remus, and Tonks.

Sitting on his couch, shivers overtake his body. His teeth chattering as he reaches for the blanket kept across the back of his couch, wrapping it around his shoulders. Harry bites back the scream that is slowly crawling up his throat; he pushes it down as he fights for control of his mind.

Collecting his thoughts, Harry comes to a conclusion.

He needs to return to where it all began.

Godric’s Hollow, West Country, England, March.

Spring blooms real and true, and Harry feels ready enough to return to Godric’s Hollow. Harry could count on one hand how many times he has stepped foot in the village his parents once called home. He had been born in Godric’s Hollow; at the end of July to two loving parents who adored him just as much as they adored each other.

Out of respect for James and Lily Potter – murdered at the age of twenty-one – the house in which they lived had never been repaired. The thatched roof remains caved in; a large hole in the middle of it, letting the elements now batter the house.

It had been twenty-two years since Harry had stepped foot inside the house he was born in. It had been five years since he stood outside of it with Hermione; only beginning to feel the grief for the parents he never truly knew.

It was this that had plagued Harry from the moment he turned eleven and arrived at Hogwarts. How does he grieve for those he never truly knew?

As crass as it is to say, Harry didn’t know his parents outside his need for food, comfort, and love. The memories of his mother and father are so clouded; he can no longer tell whether they are his own or whether he’s simply simulated a story told to him by family friends.

He was fifteen months old when they were murdered. He was fifteen months old and barely aware of his own shadow.

Whilst he hadn’t visited the house much – it being too painful to see the sight of his parent’s murder – he had visited their graves in the years that have passed.

With you in tow, Harry leads you down the worn, familiar path. He slows his pace every now and then; warning you of an upcoming dip that may make you lose your balance.

All too soon, however, you stand in front of the grave of James and Lily Potter.

Quietly, he asks, “How do I grieve my parents when I never knew them?”

Your heart breaks for him; unable to stop yourself, you wrap an arm around his waist offering any form of comfort you can. Shakily, you answer, “I guess you can mourn what could have been or you grieve the fact that they were so young. Either way, Harry, they’re never going to leave you.”

“I know that,” He whispers; gaze fixed on the grave of his parents, “All I know of them is what I’ve been told. I feel as if my memories have been tainted, and I know that they all mean well, but sometimes-”

He cuts himself off with a huff; kneeling down and drawing out his wand. Silently, Harry conjures a bouquet of Orchids, Chrysanthemums and Lilies and then bows his head in silent prayer, continuing to grieve the parents he would never know.

You place your hand on his shoulder, “Sometimes you what, Harry?”

He sighs, “Sometimes I wish they would stop. I was so young when they died – any memories I have of them are practically gone but sometimes I have these flashes. I have no idea whether they’re real or not, but I feel as if they are. Yet, when friends tell me stories of what it was like to go to school with them or to fight alongside them, it’s like they’re pushing they’re version of James and Lily Potter onto me. Does that make sense?”

Squeezing his shoulder, you answer, “It makes perfect sense. The James and Lily you knew is different from what Sirius knew or what McGonagall knew.”

“I just worry that the more stories I hear, the quicker I lose what I know of them.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Harry.”

“You don’t?” He asks, shifting to his feet and facing you.

You shake your head, “I don’t. I think you’re going to remember your parents for the rest of your life; their morals and values make up yours, Harry. You might not think, but you are a lot more like them than you realise.”

Harry bows his head, feeling the familiar burn of tears at the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut, begging the feeling to go away. Quietly, almost ashamedly, Harry asks, “Do you think they would be proud of me?”

Then and there, your heart breaks, cleaving itself in two for the man standing before you. It’s the only dream of a child; to make their parents proud, but what about children who do not have parents – who grew up in a home that did not cherish them like it should have?

Silver lines your eyes; tears threatening to make an appearance as you reach for Harry’s hands, pulling him into a hug. Against his shoulder, you state with conviction, “They would be extremely proud of you, Harry. So proud of you it would shine out of them.”

Harry sniffles; ducking down somewhat to tuck his head against your neck, hiding his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. From the outside, it looks as if two lovers are embracing, unable to keep their hands off the other for too long. However, you know that Harry is trying his best to maintain his composure, to try and gets to grips with the emotions that follow never knowing the ones who were supposed to raise you.

Minutes pass and neither of you move; neither of you willing to be the one to break this moment, but for the day to progress, you need to step away from the only man you have ever loved.

Releasing Harry, you send what you hope is a reassuring smile in his direction, “Come on, Harry,” You prompt, “Show me the rest of Godric’s Hollow?”

Framing it as a question, you offer Harry the choice. He is in control of this moment; h can choose whether he shows you the rest of the wizarding village or whether the two of you apparate back to his flat and spend the rest of the day mooching about.

Harry smiles: it’s watery, but fixed as he nods, stepping around you to lead you out of the graveyard.

Hands brush every now and then as the both of you wander back to the high street. A simple brush of hands, a simple twitch of fingers and your heart would start to race, practically shouting for Harry to take your hand and tangle your fingers together.

“I think I’m going to live here,” Harry murmurs; eyes scanning the high street.

“Are you sure?” You ask; worried not only for the fact that you may miss him while you remain in London, but also for any potential setback this may cause him.

Harry nods; his eyes now focused on a small café straight across the road from where you stand. He gestures towards it with an open hand, “Let me explain over some food.”

The bell above the door tinkles as you follow Harry inside. He chooses a table on the left hand side of the shop; sitting at the seat that faces the window and the door. It’s with stark realisation that you come to see that he’s chosen this exact spot so he can have eyes on each entrance and exit point.

You sigh as you sit across from him; old habits die hard, you guess.

Menus are placed in front of you by a teenaged witch looking as if she would rather be anywhere else but here. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in Harry’s form; the menu in her hand shaking as she places it down before him.

You bite your lip to repress the ever-growing smile on your face as you watch the waitress grow flustered under Harry’s smile and green eyes. She walks away in a daze after having taken your drink orders – coffee for Harry, Yorkshire Tea for you.

You shake your head fondly at the young witches departing figure; noting how she bumps into numerous tables before making it safely to the kitchen. Harry follows your gaze, wanting to know what’s taken your attention from him, “What is it?”

You shift your gaze back to the wizard, “You still don’t see the effect you have on people, do you?”

Harry frowns; his hand reaching up to touch his forehead self-consciously. He had grown his hair longer in order to cover the scar that mars the centre of his forehead; his black hair now fell around his head in curls he didn’t know he had until you had found an old picture of his father. The glasses and the curls along with the smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts; he was the spit image of his father.

“Not your scar, Harry, nor your name. I meant how you look; you have to know you’re handsome.”

Blush paints Harry’s cheeks as your words settle. The last thing he expected from today was to be told he was attractive; least of all, from you. He’s never had the chance before; to act upon his feelings for you. He realised just what he felt for you at the end of Sixth Year, and then the war happened, and he absolutely refused to let anything happen to you. He couldn’t tell you his feelings for you should it put a target on your back, and if anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself.

He laughs, shaking his head, “You’re a flatterer.”

You hold your hands up in playful surrender, “Only speaking the truth. You’ll see it one day.”

“One day,” He promises; eyes earnest as they gaze into yours.

It’s too much; just like that, it’s too much and you have to avert your stare before you end up blurting your inner most thoughts and scaring him away for good. Clearing your throat, you wait for the teenage waitress to place your drinks in front of you before you change the subject, “Why do you want to move here?”

Harry shrugs, picking up his coffee and taking a long drink, thinking over his words. “I think,” He begins, “I want to be close to them, but I also want to start carving out my life properly and this place is so peaceful. It’s so peaceful and it’s beautiful. I think it’s one of those places that if I don’t move here now, I’ll still move later on.”

You nod, “I get that. It is gorgeous here.”

Harry hums, “I’d still be in London every week.”

“You’d commute?” You ask, puzzled in terms of train schedules.

Harry barks out a laugh that turns into silent shaking of his shoulders as the teenage waitress returns, her pad in hand as she waits for your food order. Harry continues to repress his laughter throughout his order. As the waitress walks away, you fix Harry with an unimpressed stare. “Are you going to let me in on the joke?”

Harry smiles at you; as in, he really smiles at you. He beams as he whispers somewhat in awe, “I love you. You’re one of the smartest witches I know, and you still forget about the fact that we can apparate.”

You reel back in your chair, knees knocking into the table as the air leaves your body in a single breath. “What? What did you say first?”

Harry’s smile, if possible, grows as he shrugs his shoulders, “I love you.”

“Since when?” You demand, wondering how on earth he could discuss something as important as this as nonchalantly as one would discuss the weather.

“Sixth Year,” He confesses, blush beginning to paint his cheeks.

“That long?” You ask, voice hushed, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Harry finally frowns, finger tracing the lip of his coffee cup, “There was a war, and then I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.”

Of course he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to confess his love for you, you admonish yourself. He had defeated the Dark lord and then had to cope with the survival guilt for years. It had only been in the last year that he finally let himself let go of the guilt surrounding the casualties of war.

“I love you too,” You admit, chewing on the inside of your cheek from nerves.

“You do?” Harry asks, about as breathless as you were when he confessed only moments ago.

“I do,” You confirm, smiling.

It isn’t much in the way of confessions, but the look on Harry’s face says it all. His green eyes remain bright and the smile wide on his face even as the waitress returns with your food. He looks as if no wrong could be done in that moment; the food could be the worst he has ever eaten but it wouldn’t matter.

You love him.

You love him as he loves you, and suddenly it all makes sense. His motivations through the war; not only wanting to rid the world of Voldemort but wanting to secure a safe future in which he can love you.

The food is eaten quickly; the both of you rushing to make it outside where you can talk more, and in private.

The bill is paid. The waitress wanders back to the till; stunned at the sight of Harry’s smile – and you couldn’t blame her.

Harry stands from his seat, reaching for his jacket and waiting patiently for you. Electricity thrums between you; holding promises of more to come, the headiness of it having you gripping the table tightly as you rise to your feet. One look at Harry’s face and you know he’s feeling it too.

Pausing outside the small café, you hold your hand out for Harry to take.

A soft breeze blows through Godric’s Hollow, disturbing your hair and the trees around you. Harry holds onto your hand tightly as the both of you begin to wander down the high street; the blossoms of the trees fluttering around you as they fall to the floor. Harry inhales deeply; the floral of the blossoms mixed with the sweetness of your perfume providing the perfect backdrop to his future.

Harry’s Flat, London, England, September.

Healing is a process. It is neither quick nor slow; it follows its own pace.

Through this process, Harry has realised that he is in fact getting better. He has his bad days; days where he seldom leaves his bedroom and refuses to stare at anything but the wall.

However, those days are becoming scarcer. Harry can sometimes go weeks before he has an episode that leaves him bedbound, and for that, he is proud of himself.

He doesn’t do it alone; he has you by his side through it all as you both prepare for the move to Godric’s Hollow. For both the good and the bad days.

********

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[sashi-ya]

{+18} – Sweet Tease ~ Marco x S/O – Requested

Modern AU. Female S/O. No physical descriptions. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers.

TW: NSFW, teasing, public sex.

Word count: 2.4K

A/N: Thank you so much for asking for this request! It’s the first time I write for Marco and I loved the idea! I hope you like it ♥

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31416047

Anon requested for: 

A busy afternoon in your life, you grab your phone and text your boyfriend, Marco.

14:54. You > Oi babe, are you busy today?.  15.30. Dr.M > Hey darling, I’m having a big surgery in about an hour, I don’t know much is going to take, but whenever I’m out I’ll txt you. Love you!. 

Again, your partner, one of the best doctors in town is busy. You don’t blame him, but you haven’t seen him in almost a week, and besides your heart, your skin misses him more than anything. You’ve been dreaming about getting railed by him for the last two days, you know you need him. 

“I should get back to work”, you say to yourself, trying to forget how needy for him you are. And the afternoon passes, and there is no text from Marco. 

Your coworkers invite you for some drinks after work and you just accept, because deep down you know you aren’t going to meet with your boyfriend tonight either. 

After some beers, a notification pops up on your phone screen. “It’s him”, you tell your friend showing her the phone. “I have an idea, don’t just go straight to the point…”, she says to you. “What do you mean?”, you ask confused. “Well, you should tease him little by little, until he gets so needy for you that he has no other choice than leaving everything aside, and fuck you”, she says with an evil grin. You both laugh out loud and enjoy the rest of the evening. 

While walking home, what your friend has told you at the bar, begins to replay in your brain. “She might be right, I should make him want me…”, you think while opening the door. 

Once inside, you text Marco back just to tell him you got home safe, but he doesn’t answer. He is probably asleep 

already. You pass out on your bed thinking the best ways to tease him… photos?, texts?, visiting him?... you set up a plan that wish it works.

06:30 Dr.M > Morning baby. I’m sorry about yesterday. We’ve been very busy lately. I promise I’ll compensate for it. 

07:45 You > Good morning, it’s ok. You know… I dreamt about you, about us.

07:48 Dr.M > What did you dream of?

07:49 You > Something I wish I could be doing to you, now... But right now, I’m a little late for work. I’ll text you later. Love you. Mwah. 

07:51 Dr.M > I wonder what it is… have a nice day at work. Love u.  

You are determined to slowly rise up the heat, from day to night, but subtly. “That will do”, you think, and let your phone aside, sure that letting Marco on read could make a difference. 

Your day at work got super busy, so you barely had time to grab your phone. You wonder sometimes about your beloved, but your attention is instantly drawn to your tasks. At lunch you have a little more time and take your phone, Marco has sent you a text asking if you have already eaten. This is a good chance for you to tease him, so you decide to follow the next stage of your plan. Today, you’ve chosen to wear a pencil skirt that allows the skin of your thighs to show, so you take a photo of your lunch over your legs. You were just commenting about the food, but there is no way he wouldn’t get to see one of his favourite parts of your body. 

07:51 Dr.M > Yummy! Enjoy your meal, babe. By the way, love that skirt. 

 “Good, he noticed the skirt”, you think to yourself while eating the little sandwich and think about what’s next. 

The working day is coming to an end, and you get a phone call from your boyfriend. He tells you that this weekend the hospital would have a charity banquet, and if you want to come with him. Of course, you accept immediately, not only because you want to be with him, but also because you just love parties. 

After leaving work, you head directly to a dress shop, and as you try the perfect one for the party, you know this is an opportunity for teasing him you won’t let pass.  You pick the sexiest red dress in the store, and head to the dresser. 

The dress shows your back perfectly until the start of your bottom. Little straps hold a cowl neckline and it also has a deep slit on the left side of the skirt, so you can show your leg. 

Posing on the mirror of the dresser, showing your back, and leg you snap a picture and send it to him. Luckily he answers right away.

18:02 You > What do you think babe? I like this dress for the banquet. 

18:03 Dr.M > Damn… I love it. You look like a goddess, you know?. 

 You couldn’t be happier about his reaction, so you buy the dress and head home. 

After taking a shower, and still covered with only a towel you video call Marco. This is just another step of the plan, and somehow you just love it. He is still at the hospital, but you don’t care. You want him to wish he wasn’t there. 

Your lover picks up and after realizing you were practically naked, stunned, he covers the screen with his big skilled hands. “Babe, I’m alone at my office but… are you naked?”, he says a little bit agitated. “I am, but a towel is covering me. I just miss you, wanted to see your pretty face after a hot shower”, you say pouting with a suggestive tone. “I - I miss you too, babe…”, he says while he seems to worship the image of you on his phone screen. “I wish you were here…” you confess to him while rolling your eyes back. “I wish I was there too, baby… aren’t you cold?”, he says now and you can sense how his voice becomes a little bit cracked. You recognize this is an amazing opportunity to keep up with your plan, so you say, “I am, yes. Give me a sec, I’m going to put my robe on”. 

You stood up from bed, put your phone over your dresser so Marco could still see you and let your towel fall to the floor, leaving your body completely exposed to him. “Babe…” he gasps, and you just giggle. 

You watch how he pushes himself far from the desk, laying his back over the chair backrest, letting you admire his torso, and of course, his crotch. A bulge is shown in his scrubs pants, and he slowly slides a hand there.  

“Dr Marco, it’s an emergency, they need you in trauma”, a voice resonates in his office, and he quickly lifts his hands, covering the screen and camera from his phone. “Oh, yeah I’ll be right there”, he says, trying to hide the arousal he was experiencing. 

Annoyed, but not mad at him, throw your robe on and wait for him to come back to the call. “I’m sorry babe, I’m really sorry”, he says, mortified. “It’s ok doc, we can continue later. See you tomorrow, love you”, you tell him, a little bit sad, but still showing how much you want him. 

After dinner, you go to bed, replaying the memories of his sweet anatomy and how you wished you'd seen him jacking off to your body at the office. Yet, you know tomorrow is the big party, and you have better plans than just making him touch himself over the phone. 

Another busy day of work passes and you are finally at home getting ready for the big event. You know how much he likes when you use that specific perfume with citric hints of orange and a little bit of pineapple, so you spray it all over you. The red dress you bought yesterday flows sexy over your skin, and you are ready to make tonight, a night of a lifetime. 

Marco is waiting for you outside in his car, you make him wait just for a few minutes. He knows you will be using that dress, and he wants to see you wearing it right now, but you want him to crave for it, so you just text him with a “Give me a sec”. 

When you finally open the door, you let your keys fall to the ground. In order to pick them up, you first make sure he is watching and then bend down, lifting your dress subtly from the slit of the skirt. 

Acting as if nothing happened, you hop in his car, and kiss his cheek. “Hello doc, I missed you”. You see how Marco watches you from top to bottom, slightly stopping at the slit on the skirt, admiring how your thigh spreads a little once you are sitting.

After allowing Marco to enjoy for some seconds your skin, you step up, and cross your legs. A fire on his sleepy eyes ignites, and somehow you just adore to make him heat up. 

But your blond hot doctor is not the only one who is getting hot in there, you certainly are too. He looks so perfect, formally dressed with a black suit. You wished he’d stop driving, and take you right there, in the middle of the street. You just don’t care. But you wait… 

When you finally arrive at the charity event, everybody turns their head to admire the young successful doctor Marco and his perfect girlfriend. Some wishing they were Marco, others, you. But everybody is amazed by how powerful and pretty you both are. 

You are greeted by Marco's colleagues and are invited to sit on your corresponding table. They serve you gourmet plates made by a famous chef called Vinsmoke Sanji. 

A show starts, a magician makes entertaining tricks on the scenery, and everybody including Marco is enjoying the show. You suddenly had the idea of teasing your boyfriend a little bit more, so you subtly slide a hand over his lap, caressing it faintly. You notice how his muscles react instantly to the soft touch of your hand over his black trousers. He looks at you, but you don’t look back at him, you simply keep enjoying the magic show. 

He then places his hand over yours, and slowly interlocks fingers. He makes your hand move up, closer to his groin. You can feel how hard he is with the side of your hand. Deep down you wished to touch him, but you want him to burn in desire, so you slowly lift your hand up, and grab your cup of red wine. He sighs soundly. “I’m going to tease until it hurts how much you want to fuck me, Marco”, you thought with an evil grin on your face. 

The show is over, and an auction starts in order to raise funds for charity. Every rich person there starts to push. You just maintain quiet, you are not as rich as them, but Marco on the other hand... He places a bid for some paintings and you just wait. 

The auction comes to an end, and the organizers announce that the guest can pass to the dancing saloon if they want. Of course you want, you know there is where the next stage of your plan will take place. 

You grab Marco’s hand and walk to the next saloon. Lights are now down low and the music starts to play. You both start slow dancing, your bodies closer to each other, Marco’s hand placed on your back, and the other over your waist. You pass your hands on the back of his neck. You move slowly, sexy, rubbing your stomach against his, while looking up at his eyes with an inviting sight. Getting drunk on the smell of his manly perfume, you remember how much you love and desire his body. 

He places a soft kiss over your lips, that you accept gratefully. Your lower stomach feels how a hard bulge is forming once again on Marco’s groin, and you just can’t take it anymore, you need him. And he needs you too. But the music stops, and now it’s time for dessert, so you both walk back to your seats. 

A sweet chocolatey dessert is served. You are delighted, he is too. You grab a piece of cake and devour it from the little spoon, slowly moving it on your mouth while looking straight to his eyes. He gasps, he is suffering. It must be painful to hide, to hold back how much you want to fuck someone surrounded by your colleagues and people in general. His manhood is probably hurting from the pressure the pants are making over it. He needs you; you can see it in his eyes. 

You place the silver spoon over your lips for an instance and giggle. Once you finish your cake, you stand up, pass your hand all over his back, from one shoulder to the other, and slowly bend over him to approach his ear. “I need to use the toilet…”, you say to him with an inviting tone. 

As you walk to the bathroom you can feel his piercing gaze over your body, and you know he got the message. 

You wait for him, and a few minutes after and a quick scan of the place to ensure nobody was watching, he grabs you by your throat and pushes inside of one of the bathroom stalls. 

“I can’t take it anymore, I just need to fuck you right here, babe”, he says to you while kissing your neck desperately, pushing your back against the cold marble walls of the toilet. 

None of you can wait, no place for foreplay, you want him to penetrate you right now. He slides his hand under your dress by the slit of the skirt discovering you are not wearing any panties. That only makes him even more aroused. He unbuckles his belt, and lets his pants fall to the floor, revealing his big erect member. 

You bite your lower lip, grinning. Marco lifts his white shirt, so you can admire his well-defined abs and the tattoo that garnishes his chest with that blue ink. Next you know is him lifting your leg, and penetrating you with a hard thrust, deep inside you. An intense pounding that sends you to heaven, both of your heartbeat accelerating, losing control of your breathing. 

You two finally reach climax, and let him impregnate you with all of his warm juices. He groans, “Oh baby girl, you don’t how much I needed you, one of these days you are going to kill me”. 

And you smile, because you know that your plan was a success… ♥

[queenofhearts7378]

Constellations Ch. 2

(Yes it finally has a title. Yes this is ending up multi chaptered. Yes there’s another part I’m writing. Yes I already have an outline for a vague plot....Yes I’m still blaming @ladylynse for this XD)

Prev. Chapter  -  Next Chapter

Danny was very much unprepared and underdressed for the time when some wizards fell out of his fireplace.

He paused in the doorway, spoon still in his mouth and cheeks full of cereal, as his brother stood up and brushed the soot off him with a displeased nose scrunch.

Danny swallowed. "And you couldn't just use the door?"

Honestly they're lucky his parents had left to chase down the Box Ghost earlier. Otherwise they'd be covered in a lot more than soot and ash.

Danny couldn't help the snort that escaped at the mental picture of Draco covered in ectoplasm and boiling in rage. 

Draco narrowed his eyes, seeming to pick up that Danny was making fun of him. "Using the Floo was quicker."

"....quicker than walking through the door."

"It's a wizard thing you wouldn't understand." Draco snapped back, his go to response whenever he couldn't argue against Danny's logic at the moment. 

"Uh huh. Anyways what are you doing here?" Danny asked, "You aren't supposed to be here for another two weeks."

Which was time previously planned for Draco to prepare for his summer in America while Danny finished school. Spend the two weeks after Hogwarts let out recuperating and making public appearances with his parents, then spend the rest of the summer with the Fentons.

Actually now that Danny was looking, it seemed Draco had come straight from school. His hair was lacking half its gel, he was still wearing his green tie, and his robes were a very boring black as opposed to the various greys and blues he flaunted around in the previous summer.

“Denebola, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Drawled the man standing behind Draco.

“Hello creepy man that I have never met before,” Danny said, echoing his tone.

Draco choked on air as the discount Kylo Ren sneered at him.

“This is Professor Snape Danny.” A familiar please-don’t-say-anything-that-will-get-us-in-trouble tone coloring Draco’s words. “My godfather.”

Oh the potion guy. Danny remembers Draco talking about him now. He was friends with Draco’s parents, which didn’t really impress Danny that much as all of the Malfoy’s friends seemed to be really rich snobs or really racist. Mostly both.

But he was Draco’s godfather, the reason he got into potions, his favorite professor and someone Draco would willingly go to get advice from. So, Danny decided to reserve judgement till he met him. Well….he met him.

Danny looked Draco dead in the eyes, “My apologies.”

Draco closed his eyes in mortification, which made Danny grin internally. They were really getting the hang of the whole ‘speaking without talking to each other twin thing’. 

Professor Snape just scowled at him. “Where are the….muggles?" Disdain dripped off his words, instantly making Danny defensive. He had heard enough at Malfoy Manor about disgraceful, savage muggles from Lucius. Even Draco had echoed his father till Danny dragged him kicking and screaming into being a slightly decent person.

"My parents," Danny said, stressing the word, "Are working right now."

Okay maybe they were just being their usual trigger happy selves and running after Boxy, but there was no way he was telling Professor Snape that without it leading to an hour long discussion about ghosts. And Danny did not have time for that. He shoved a giant spoonful of cereal in his mouth as he met Professor Snape's eyes and-huh.

Draco never told Danny his godfather could read minds. He could feel the light brushes of a foreign mind attempting to gleam information from his surface thoughts. Danny didn't know if it was his wizard ancestry or halfa weirdness that made him sensitive to this kind of stuff. Either way, it was useful in keeping his secrets in his head from privacy invading school teachers.

Danny glowered at Snape and immediately thought of Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up music video.

The two of them stared at each other for a minute, making Draco more and more anxious as no one said anything.

Finally Snape broke contact, "Where should his things go?"

Danny tried very hard not to smirk after winning that staring contest, "You can just leave them here, we'll get them later."

With one last displeased sneer, Snape turned to Draco. "I'm needed back at Hogwarts. I trust you are in good hands."

Draco nodded, still looking tense and anxious as hell.

Snape walked back to the fireplace. He paused next to Draco, "Take care of yourself Draco."

Draco softened under his glare, "I will Professor. Thank you."

Snape nodded and shot one more glare at Danny, who still had Rick Astley echoing in his head, before vanishing into the fireplace in a swirl of green fire.

Draco turned back to Danny and said, "You stress me out."

Danny snorted before walking back into the kitchen to put his bowl in the sink. Draco followed after him, looking at all the kitchen appliances with a barely hidden curious look.

"Something else we have in common."

"What are you wearing?" He asked with a nose scrunched in displeasure.

Danny shot him a look, "My pajamas, cause I just woke up. I haven't finished getting ready for school. You should probably change too."

"Why?"

Danny started for the stairs, Draco still following at his heels. "You can't wear robes to public school. I think you can fit in my jeans."

"What?!" Draco screeched, halting at the bottom of the stairs, "I'm not going to muggle school with you!"

"It's either that or stay here by yourself for hours." Danny said as he paused outside his room. Draco scrambled up after him. "Cause my parents won't be home for a couple more hours, after which you'll be alone with them till I get home."

Danny smirked at him, "My parents are going to be thrilled to see you, can you really handle their enthusiasm all by yourself?"

Draco could barely stand Danny showing various forms of physical affection, as proven last summer when Danny would throw an arm around Draco's shoulders and almost get hexed. And Ancients forbid Danny try to hug him. Draco might actually lose the wand and just punch him. Danny had spent most of their correspondence over the school year prepping Draco for the Fenton welcome wagon so he wouldn't hiss like a cat when he gets hugged. Okay, and maybe Danny just wanted to see his overdramatic brother's face as he is subjected to his parent's bear hugs. 

Draco scowled at him, "Fine. But I'm not wearing any jeans."

Draco stomped into Danny's room and slammed the door in his face. He heard the lock click as it was shut.

"Hey! I still gotta get dressed!" Danny banged on the door, "C'mon Drake it's still my room!"

Danny groaned before walking over to the bathroom. He phased through the wall and landed on the fire escape. It took a few minutes, but he eventually maneuvered to his window and slipped in.

Draco had dug into Danny's closet and pulled out the most dressy tux Danny owned and was in the middle of putting it on. 

"You are not wearing that."

Draco scowled at him, "It’s bad enough I'm lowering myself by going with you-”

“Lowering yourself?”

“-But,” he said loudly, “I absolutely refuse to wear common muggle wear. If I’m going to this school, I will not look anything less than my absolute best.”

Danny stared at him. “Drake you will be thrown into the dumpster if you wear that to my school. Let me just-”

Danny jumped on him, trying to remove the suit jacket from a struggling Draco. Draco shouted and tried to twist away, only for Danny to pull it over his head. Once Draco was out of sight, and swearing loudly at him, Danny subtly used his intangibility to yank it off him. And if he happened to remove all of Draco’s hair gel that he used to keep his hair slicked back….well, that would have gotten him thrown in a dumpster as well.

Danny tried not to laugh as Draco glared at him, his hair fluffed up and looking vaguely like an angry kitten. 

"Do you know how long it takes me to fix my hair? I have to completely redo it now! And how'd you get that off me?" He pointed at the jacket Danny was throwing back in his closet.

Danny grinned at him, "Magic."

Draco gave him a flat look.

"Anyway we've got to go, otherwise I'm gonna be late again, and get detention again, and you'll be forced to either walk home by yourself or stay at school with me."

Somehow Danny had managed to get dressed and drag Draco out the door with him, texting Sam and Tucker his plans to walk so they could meet up on the way.

"What is that?" Draco leaned over to squint at the phone in Danny's hand.

"My phone. I told you about it last summer."

Draco hummed, "I thought it was broken?"

"Yeah, cause your magic blew it up. My parents fixed it." Danny shoved his phone back in his pocket like Draco was about to blow it up again. "Now what happened?"

Draco shot him a glance, before letting his eyes flicker around them. "I did try to tell you muggle 'technology' and magic doesn't always go together."

"Drake, you know that's not what I mean." He said softly.

Draco was silent, his jaw clenched and his hands shaking before he shoved them in his pockets.

They walked in silence for a while.

"You'll get hurt."

Danny looked at him.

"I…." Draco sighed, "I've never…."

Danny waited silently for him to get the words out on his own, knowing that pushing him will only make him clam up.

"You aren't like us. And I don't mean that in any bad way!" He said quickly when he saw Danny's face. "But you know what my parents are like, and their friends are so much worse, and you're the first person I've ever had to worry about. I just want you to be safe."

Oh Ancients, that was a lot to unpack there. 

Danny had known something had happened during school. The two of them spent the school year exchanging letters, both of them wanting to stay in contact. Danny would tell him about his school, and his parents' antics, and explain random muggle technology to get Draco prepared for his summer with the Fentons.

Meanwhile, Draco had complained at length about Potter and a tournament and Potter being insufferable about a tournament. There was a furious letter about being turned into a ferret and how Potter and his friends keep bringing it up. Draco sent him about three feet of parchment around Christmas just making fun of Potter at a dance and how horrible he was. There was a lot about some famous Quidditch guy and then a lot about Potter’s friend stealing the famous Quidditch guy.

Draco complained about Potter a lot, okay?

But Draco never sent him a letter about the tournament results or if Potter got eaten by a bog witch or whatever it was he was hoping for the last task. He just showed up, two weeks early and clearly shaken about whatever it was that happened.

That isn’t a good sign at all. And Danny had eavesdropped enough last summer to get a decent idea as to what was going on.

“This is….this is about him isn’t it?”

Draco flinched, which was enough answer for him. Danny let out a breath.

“We can-we can talk about this later. I care about you too Drake, and I know your family is neck deep in this mess.” Danny bumped his shoulder, “You’re safe here, that’s why Narcissa sent you here right?”

Draco leaned against his brother’s shoulder, eyes still flitting across the street and his jaw clenched. “Yeah. We’re safe here.”

[binnieboyswhore]

93. "I believe in you" with binnie 👉👈

Hey, if you want to send me a number from this list and skz member and I’ll write you something <3

Pairing: Changbin x Reader Genre: fluff Word count:1,008 Warnings: Needles Authors note: Please i love this so much and i really want to start doing prompts like these more often, i get tired writing from my list sometimes so it’s nice to jog it up a bit. But further ado Binnie baby. 

For the last month and a half you’ve been begging and pleading with Binnie to get matching tattoos, well more corresponding. At every opportunity he never hesitated to shoot you down even after you showed him your birth flower (I got it from this chart) and how pretty it would look on his skin or how pretty a little poppy, his birth flower, would look on the back of your shoulder. He just kept telling you how ridiculous it sounded and that he didn’t want to cause, “What if we do it and you don’t like me anymore.” worry very evident in his eyes.

“Oh Binnie,” you say cupping his chin in your hand “I don’t like you now.” You smiled real big at your joke as he frowned not thinking you were funny at all. “But I’ll always love you Binnie, I promise.” you kissed the tip of his nose.

That was  two weeks ago and he still has said no to you everytime. Slowly you began to give up on the idea, deciding maybe it was better that it stayed in your head, in your imagination alongside tongue piercing Binnie. Some things just weren’t meant to be reality. Because of finally giving up you spent most of the day sulking on the couch thinking of what could have been and how hot Binnie would’ve looked with a piece of you attached to his body.

At that he peeks his head around the corner from the hallway into the living room, “Hey.” he said trying to get your attention. You ignored him. “Hey Y/N.” he says a bit louder.

You turn to look at him glaring a bit, “Do you secretly hate me is that why you won’t get my flower tattooed on you.” you stick your bottom lip out pouting the best you know how.

Binnie just smiles at you, “Would you stop being so dramatic, I love you and you know that. I’m getting ice cream if you wanna go with let's go.”

You hop off the couch, “You’re lucky, ice cream is the only remedy for a broken heart.”

You go to slide your sandals on by the door as he grabs your waist turning you so you’re face to face with him, “Bunny don’t be like that, you’re not heart broken.” he says grabbing hold of your chin.

“I am a little, but it’s fine I’ll get over it.” you said trying to smile feeling bad for having made him feel bad over something so silly.

“You can find something else coupley for us.” He says leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Matching tongue piercings?” you nearly screamed.

He looked at you feed up, “I was thinking of a cooking class or shirts.”

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

You guys had decided to get ice cream downtown so you could walk up and down and look at all the shops. Binnie was very adamant about going downtown saying he didn’t want to go right back to the house after ice cream so you indulged him. About an hour later you had started to complain that your legs hurt and you wanted to sit down.

“Okay, you can sit down here, I just needed to do something here real quick.” He said opening the door to a shop, you hadn’t caught the name as you were looking down at your phone.

As you enter the shop you hear faint buzzing and look up, Binnie already looking down at you with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Wait, what are we doing?” You asked, not wanting to assume.

“Look, you said you were gunna love me forever and I figured I’m gunna love you forever and you really want this so why not. Plus I like the idea of being able to have a piece of you everywhere I go.”

You could’ve cried. You could’ve bawled but you were in public so you kept it together opting to kiss him gently while whispering I love you. You walk up to the desk and start filling out all the necessary paperwork for your new art and soon enough the artist was taking you both to the back.

“So who’s going first?” The tattooist asked, sliding on her black glove.

Binnie saw the panic flash in your eyes so without hesitation he took a seat and removed his shirt. You sat across from him jumping when the needle started humming. Binnie flinched a little when the needle first touched his skin but after that he sat pretty still. You tried to calm your nerves, this is what you’ve literally been begging for. Why are you so nervous?

In no time Binnies was complete and he was standing looking at it in the mirror trying to angle the hand mirror just right. You stood up to stand next to him, you fell absolutely in love with it resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.

He made eye contact with you through the mirrors, “It’s your turn bunny.”

You took a deep breath and sat in the chair removing your jean jacket, thankful you wore a tank top so you wouldn’t have to remove your shirt. You stuck out your hand for Binnie to hold, “I’m a little scared please.” you said with pleading eyes.

He dragged his chair closer to you lacing his fingers with yours, “You got this, I believe in you.” he smiled at you.

The buzzing of the needle started and it hurt a bit but nothing like you thought it would and it felt like 2 minutes before she told you she was finished. You ran to the mirror looking at it in awe. The little poppy sat on your shoulder blade just beautifully. Changbin walked up and put his shoulder next to yours so they were side by side.

The tattooist asked if you wanted her to take a picture of it and Binnie handed over his phone, you guys intertwined your fingers and just stared at each other in awe of one another and just absolutely in love.

A/N tag with your birth flower i wanna know what Binnie got

[bunsblr]

Tu... torial? Pt. 5.

Final part of my tutorial! This is a little all over the place, because that’s how I am in this stage of editing. Also I didn’t proofread this...

Open this in dashboard for best view of the screenshots.

Disclaimer: I have no formal training for any kind of graphics stuff, I work in an office as a receptionist - I serve coffee for a living. I am absolutely self taught and while I consider myself pretty comfortable with photoshop, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t about a gazillion of other things that can be done that I have no idea about. There are people far superior than me in the Sims community. This is just how I do it, with techniques I have picked up through the years. Some things I go over in these will be pretty basic, some things a little more unorthodox. Disclaimer 2: My edits take time. This is what I do to relax, one edit takes several hours for me. Sometimes days :))) Disclaimer 3: My photoshop is in Swedish, which is my first language. I tried my best to find the English translations for every step that I do.

Tools used: The Sims 4, Adobe Photoshop 2020, One by Wacom Pen Tablet (very basic and unfancy).

It´s hair time baby! I very much enjoy drawing hair on sims. I make a new empty layer on top of my base Sim layer.

This is where having a drawing tablet makes a huge difference. We need the brush to be sensitive to pressure to get the effect of hair strands. I chose a hard brush, small small size (how small depends on the picture size of course, but I usually land somewhere 6-9 px)

I pick up a color from the hair, I usually starts with a medium light color.

I start by drawing strands around any tips of the hair so they don't look quite so solid. I do this part with both short and long hairs. Hot lazy tip: straight unlayered hairs is the absolute easiest. This is a layered hair so I start with the bottom and work my way up. I pick up different colors from the hair as I go along, to add dept.

Continuing up in the hair and add strands to the pointy bits.

When I feel like the pointy bits have been softened I select one of my hair brushes. I use these ones by Para Vine.

I start painting "around" the hair with one of the lighter colors picked up from the hair, changing the direction of the brush every once in a while for a more natural result.

After this the hair is looking a little fuzzy, so I'm going to go back with my small harder brush to fill these parts out.

I don't add a lot of them, just small bits here and there for filling.

This is a little overkill but... now we have some of that "squary" thing going on in the hair as well that are still showing through our painted layer. Now we could paint over these, but painting can actually be overdone and I wan't to keep the hair recognizeable because the creator put a lot of work into it! So I go into liquify and smooth over any wonky lines still showing, just slightly.

A comparison of before and after hair. Still recognizeable, but softer.

This is our result so far. We've come a long way, but we're not done.

At this point (or actually sometimes sooner) I add an adjustment Curves layer, this will not end up in the finished image, this is just to give me an idea of what the image might look like with more contrast (which we will add later). I keep this at the very top of the layer panel and turn this on and off as I go. Very important to have it turned off if we are going to eyedrop a color and use that to paint, since it would pick up the wrong hue if we have it turned on.

Now I still want the front of my sim to be a little darker to fit my lighting, but I don't want to go over with any more shadow. So I duplicate my Sim layer, and go to Layer -> Adjustments -> Curves. This will only change the active layer, as opposed to creating an adjustment layer down in the Layer panel that will change all layers below it. I drag the curve down a bit to make my new Sim layer darker.

I add a layer mask to my new Sim layer, and bucket fill it with black color so the new layer gets hidden.

I chose an absolutely HUGE soft brush, with medium opacity, and starts painting white on the areas where I want the new darker layer to be showing. And blend by going back with black where the line is to harsh.

Time to add some highlights. I create a new empty layer between my two Sim layers, and add a clipping mask by holding Alt and hovering on the line between the new layer and my bottom sim layer, until the little square with the arrow symbol comes up and then click. This will make whatever I do on my new highlight layer, only show up on the areas where the layer underneath is filled.

 Time to paint. I disable the curve adjustment layer for this. I choose a bright color, in this case a light pink because I didn't want a contrasting color for this picture. I go with a big soft brush around the edges where I want my highlight to hit. In this case, the arm, the hand, the arch of the back and the calf. I didn't add anything to the face in this picture because I didn't like the way it looked, but usually a little highlight to one of the cheeks is just *chef's kiss*

And somewhere around here I got really stuck and really struggled to follow with this tutorial. I felt the picture was lacking something and I tried several different things. I added light rays, tried creating different light sources, there was a moon at some point. But I ended up with just a simple additional gradient shadow down in the right corner (on a new layer down in the Background layer group). Life changing…

And then I didn't like the pink highlight on the skin (sigh, this is how I work, but it’s not recommended to be this indecisive) so I removed that and added a more beige-yellowee highlight instead. And forgot to take a picture after the highlight was added....

And now I go into nitpicking mode. I add a new empty layer on top of my Sim layer, I add it under the highlight layer so it automatically takes on the clipping mask of the Sim layer, I name it Clean-up Crew and go in to refine anything slightly wonky. Picking up colors with the eyedrop tool and going over flaws with a tiny brush.

When I fixed this little light area on the back of her head I left the Clean-up Crew layer and went to my Hair layer instead, because I still have that separate and it's above all the other layers.

I thought my sim was a little too far down in the picture so I moved her up by selecting my whole Sim layer group and the layer on which I have her ground shadow, chosing the move tool and pushing them up. This will move all the layers in the Sim layer group as well as the ground shadow layer equally.

I'm telling y'all, nitpicking mode could go on forever. Added more strands to the bangs.

Noticed a little pointy part on the calf, so I wen't into Liquify on the base Sim layer and smoothed that out. Since the highlight layer has a Clipping Mask corresponding to the Sim layer, the highlight stayed in place.

I duplicate my Sim layer group once more, and merge the layers within this group. So now the Hair, Highlight and Clean-up Crew is all merged onto the Sim layer. I hide the previous Sim groups.

With my new Sim layer selected, I go to Image -> Adjustments -> Hue/Saturation. I want to make my Sim a little less bright so it will match the background a bit better.

I drag down the Saturation and Brightness slider a bit until I like what I see. After this I save my whole image as a PNG-file because from now on I want to edit the whole picture but still want to keep this psd-file as it is for anxiety purposes. Important: I disable my curves layer before saving this as a picture, I don’t want that brought with me into the next steps because I will be adding new curves there.

I open my new saved PNG-file. I go to Filter -> Convert for Smart filters. This will allow us to go back and change any filters we add to this layer. I go to Filter -> Camera Raw Filter and for some reason this window opens up humongus. I start by dragging down the temperature. How much depends on the picture, usually more if it's nighttime.

I pull up the Whites a bit for a cleaner look.

Now I add a Curve Adjustment Layer. Now you can add Contrast in the Camera Raw Filter as well, but I prefer the curve layer because I like to control the different levels. This way I can make my darkest parts a little brighter, giving just a little washed out flair to it all.

I select my background layer again and go to Filter -> Noise -> Add Noise and choose a level that I think looks good. This just brings the picture together a bit more. Also vintage vibes :)))

I add my frame (because it´s my aestethic and I think it looks cool on tumblr) by resizing my workspace and adding a filled white layer underneath the background layer.

I resize my picture (Image -> Image Size) because we don't need it to be huge.

And they I just fine tune the Filters and Curves until the end of time :’)))

And that is that my friends! That’s the end of the tutorial! I hope you could follow somewheat and that someone found it useful. Thank you for reading and never be afraid of contacting me if you have any questions :) I’m very friendly.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

DEAR FISH FUCKERS, YOU’RE WELCOME

I’ve done what no other has done before (to my knowledge) and found the aging system for the Zora! 

Ok so this started as simple research for this ask

See, I misread the phrasing of “best educated guess” to “research for 2 hours and come to a conclusive answer” so anyhow before I indulge you into the answers of the universe allow me to explain the research I’ve come across 

[TL;DR at the bottom]

So firstly, we have to look at our conclusive evidence, from which we’ll base our theory/headcanon on, which can mainly be found in the Creating a Champion book, and some dialogue in game. I’ve compiled them all in these bullets here

Zora children are around 20ish years old [as said by dialogue with Finley in her love letter sidequest, I don’t have a screenshot but please just take my word for it]

150ish is considered middle-aged for Zora

Muzu is around 4 centuries old 

Curved claws, weathered fins, and worn noses are signs of an older Zora that is more than 3 centuries(ish) old

Zora that were friends with Link must be around 150ish (not just 100), since you need to also account for the 20+ years of growing from a child stage, to the more normal sized form that you see them in the game, ergo, it’s that age plus the 100 years stasis that we determine the “middle age” of around 150

150 is the middle age, double that for the average old age of 300 years, but I say it could go to 400 too for additional reasons I’ll explain later with examples with my final age system. Anyhow, Muzu is around 400 if you take the 100 years for actually growing up from childhood, additional 100+ years of holding a different job as I doubt you just straight out hire a councilman without experience, and then another century for where he first started working in in the council, training Mipha, which would overlap with the period of the pre and post Great Calamity and Link’s return, meaning that’s 3 centuries plus 50ish years if we’re being generous with the overlap. This would help line up with the “for over a century” line as that doesn’t quite mean 2 centuries of working in the council, but Muzu is definitely getting up there to 4 centuries for his age alone

Now, I thought, this was gonna be my breakthrough, this screenshot here, depicting the traits of the older Zora. The elderly Zora are probably around 3 centuries old (since King Dorephan said they were young men around Mipha’s time, 150ish+100 gives us the range of 250-300), so I was like “Oh l can look at the size of their fins and noses and head/tail things and find a more efficient way to find their age” but nOPE. There is very little variation in that ballpark, the Zora either have exaggerated weathered noses or nice and shiny fins and no in between. The size of their head fins are roughly the same, with again, the only exaggerated differences being with the King and Sidon which doesn’t help at all because the Royal Zora already have a bunch of other difference such as their SIZE to name one.

I even went to the part about their curved toes, which initially would line up with some other Zora like Muzu

And let me tell you

I’ve looked at their toes

This is them from a child, a middle-aged, and an elderly. Color doesn’t matter and the curve? Well there’s

BARELY A DIFFERENCE 

At least not nearly enough to find an efficient way to find age. Even Muzu’s final model didn’t have the exaggerated curvature as seen in the book.

I looked at their tail tail fins, (not the tail on their head, but their actual small rounded tail fin by their butts) because the book also mentioned how the grown Zora have more pronounced tail fins compared to the kids, but it was the same for the 150s and the 300s sooo not that helpful

So I kept digging. In the book I found that King Dorephan was crowned around 100 years before the game started. In addition I reread the 10 Zora stone monuments and found that he had killed a Guardian with his bare hands and thrown it off a cliff, which he still had a scar from. 

[and yes I attempted to find his definitive age by seeing how long it takes for a scar to fade but I gave up cause Zora anatomy is too different to find a conclusive answer]

So I was like, “ok Dorephan had to have been around 150 when he came to the throne, then 50 years later the guardians are excavated giving way to the story about the guardian...” blah blah blahbla I even went to the supposed site where that guardian was, but it all didn’t really give me that much more info than what I already knew. I was researching ways to age the rock monuments from visuals alone which needless to say is pretty impossible, so I gave up on finding Dorephan’s age and I kept digging. 

All I wanted was something physical that could properly give way to identifying a Zora’s age was that too much to ask???

Now this is where I had all but given up, it seems that my only answer was this vague note about how their fins move up when they grow

Which, to be fair, held true when I looked at the in-game character models myself, but I can’t exactly pixel measure these things for each Zora.

But THAT’S where the revelation came. I was so focused on finding inconsistencies within the elderly Zora, when I should have been looking at the young baby ones. See, this pictures, literally right next to the page about elderly Zora that I was analyzing for ages, is the key to it all

Now, I was thinking about the rings on a tree, and certain species of banded fish that grow and discard different markings as they grow older, I even counted the neck rings on certain Zora to see if they did that thing where they add a ring for each birthday like some African and Asian cultures do (look it up, that stuff’s pretty interesting!) and that is where it struck me.

Count how many luminescent markings are on their head 

The males have 11, the females have 8  (on the one side, the other side has the same number of dots but for simplicity purposes I’m doing one side)

Now let’s count for these Zoras, who are middle aged-ish

The male has 10, the female has 7.

Now let’s look at the oldest Zora that we know of

3 dots above the eye, four on the tail. Muzu that motherfucker has 7 damn dots and I couldn’t be happier.

MY DUDES, GALS, AND PALS THIS IS IT, I’VE CHECKED AND DOUBLE CHECKED WITH NEARLY EVERY ZORA I COULD AND THE NUMBER OF LUMINESCENT MARKINGS ON THEIR HEAD CORRESPONDS WITH THE AMOUNT OF CENTURIES THEY’VE LIVED, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY      DOWN     TO     THE     DOT

First we have Muzu, who as I’ve preciously stated is around 4 centuries old. 11-4? Oh, it’s seven, and that’s the amount of markings he has? OOoo??

How about this Zora Lady who recognized Link from 100 years ago?

Seven dots? 8-7 is 1 so shes just over one century which lines up timeline wise. You can even see how the third dot is slowing shrinking on her head so she’s coming up on 2 centuries 

Ok how about the elders?

NINE. 11-9 is 2 centuries, with again, the dot by their head shrinking significantly showing how they’re getting up on 3 centuries.

The part I circled in green there is jewelry, not a marking, however this only goes further to prove my point. What better way to appear youthful than to have jewelry that makes it look like you have more markings than you have, made with luminous stone, no less.

This guy? Seggin? Super close to 4 centuries, those dots are fading away fast. Count your days old timer

Random dude that doesn’t recognize Link but is an new apprentice for sculpture making? 10 dots, a fresh 1 century pal, lookin young

I was a feral child running across the Domain screaming people’s ages in their face like a rude, naive, brat, I was elated to say the least. Especially since this system even works on the King himself

[plus one dot slightly behind the fin here...]

King Dorephan has 7 dots, he’s 400 years old. Which still lines up timeline wise, especially since he’s similar age with Muzu who he has stated is one of his most trusted advisors, beecaaaaaaaause of the years they’ve spent working together the timelines match uppppppp

This system works for almost all Zora, with 2 exceptions. Guards have helmets that cover their markings, so it’s impossible to tell. In addition, Prince Sidon, has sixteen lights on this hammerhead because he’s fancy like that (we already know he’s canonically 2ish centuries old anyhow from the DLC)

EDIT: I WAS WRONG THIS WORKS FOR SIDON TOO. The sixteen markings I was referring to was actually the amount of marking on each side of the head total, however if we look at the markings for only one side, like intended

Ten dots, Sidon’s over 100 years old. I’d say he’s closer to 150 given the timeline

Essentially, the most surefire way to find almost any Zora’s age is to identify a male or female Zora, count the number of lights on the side of their head/tail thing, then subtract from 11 if they’re a male, and from 8 for a female. The number left is how many centuries they’ve lived. You can check to see if their markings are shrinking and fading to get a sense if they’re coming up on the next century anytime soon. Comparing this with the oldest Zora we see in game, we can conclusively say that the Zora lifespan is around 3 to 4 centuries since no Zora has been seen with less than seven markings

Now go and make your Zora ocs with your appropriate number of lights. I’m gonna have a cookie