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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

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Possessed By Love (Event)

Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader | 1974

a little note: hello @demo-wise !! i’m your partner for the possessed by love event. i’ve written this as a reader-insert, because i seem to do all right with those, haha. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🥰

a massive thank you to @yourlocalmusicalprostitute for hosting such a lovely event!!

synopsis: Roger Taylor had always been your neighbour. And your best friend. Until in 1968 he moved away to London, and the two of you fell out of touch. But 1974 will change it all.

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking

word count: 17k

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

1957-1968

As far as childhoods went, you’d had a pretty normal one.

You remembered summer afternoons going down to the river to swim in whatever clothes you’d muddied when running through the woods earlier, buying ice cream from the corner shop with the loose change your mum had given you for doing the grocery shopping, making up increasingly inventive games to play on boring Sunday afternoons.

You remembered winters walking home from school in the blistering cold; shivering in the threadbare second-hand coat your dad had got you from a garage sale; sitting on Truro’s large, grassy hill to watch the cold light of the stars wheel by above you.

School wasn’t an aptitude of yours, but you made it through, mostly by drinking too much coffee and studying late into the night, alongside your best friend, who did absolutely no studying at all because fortunately for him, he was just one of those people.

A best friend— you’d had one of those too.

It was as good as life got, the times you’d spent with your best friend. If ever there was a soulmate to be had, he would have been yours.

You’d lived in Truro, Cornwall for the whole of your life, but Roger and his family had first moved in when the kindly old lady next door to you had passed away, in 1957.

Like Roger, you were seven years old, so it was really only a matter of time before the two of you struck up a friendship.

When Roger had come across you that first day, you’d been shy, wide-eyed and nervous. He’d been the opposite, bold, energetic, and cheeky in his manners, though his mum was quick to reprimand him if she was anywhere nearby.

And from a young age, he’d been reckless. Hell, from the moment you’d met, he’d been reckless, because he’d spoken to you at all; your classmates had dubbed you a loner.

You’d been playing marbles at the kerbside out the front of your house when he’d first seen you, because it was one of the few games you enjoyed that could be played alone. You liked the precision the game required, to spur the little glass ball across the pavement and have it not roll too far on either side of the larger ball. You also liked the aspect of marbles that involved collecting, because the glass artefacts were pretty, and pretty things to you were what shiny things were to a crow. You supposed this came with growing up poor, though, because when money was tight, pretty things were hard to come by, and for many years of your childhood, you looked forward to the inevitable, but nonetheless exciting, gift of a marble or two on your birthday.

“Can I play?”

You’d looked up and seen a soft-shouldered, blonde-haired boy with sleepy blue eyes, peering at you by the garden gate.

You narrowed your eyes. You were protective of those marbles; they were all you had.

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” he said, rather politely. As if that would convince you.

But maybe it was actually quite convincing, because you’d never before met a boy your age with manners. All the ones at school simply pulled your hair and called you names.

“Alright,” you said slowly, watching him hawkishly as he opened the gate and crouched down beside you on the path. He reached out for a marble, but you smacked his hand away. “Do you promise?”

“Yeah, I said I promise, didn’t I?” he responded impatiently, and went to pick up the marble.

“Really, really promise?” you stopped him again.

He nodded earnestly. “Really.”

You considered a moment, then sighed and placed a marble in his palm.

He had been careful, as he’d promised.

And you’d been friends from that day on.

As you and Roger grew up, the two of you were practically attached at the hip.

Together, you mastered blowing bubblegum and building bonfires, leaping across the river using the thick rope that hung down from a tree on one side of the bank, making faces at your maths teacher without the old sod noticing, riding bicycles without holding onto the handlebars, racing down the street as your parents in vain called for you to come to tea. And one midwinter evening, your dad and Roger’s had finally given in to your mum’s pleadings to put a gate between your front garden and theirs, because you and Roger were so inseparable that you deigned to jump the fence at least twice a day anyway.

Roger taught you how to pack a punch, and you taught him how to lie with just enough truth mixed into the story to make it sound legitimate. At the age of twelve, you put Roger’s teachings to good use when you broke a boy’s nose for teasing Roger about his “girly voice.” At the age of thirteen, Roger put your teachings to good use when he lied about participating in after school events— to be fair, he did stay after school, but using the music room as a practice space for a band he’d started with a few other boys was probably not what Winifred Taylor had envisioned when her son had said “after school studying.”

Roger was there for everything in your life, both the good and the bad, as well as the utterly embarrassing. He was there the time you won fifty pounds in a writing competition run by the local newspaper, he was there for the passing of your beloved grandmother, he was there for the incident of you wearing white trousers at a time of month when you bloody well shouldn’t have worn white trousers. He snuck you champagne when you happily pocketed your fifty pounds prize money. He held you and let your tears soak his flower-patterned shirt when you cried for your grandmother. He gave you his jeans to change into and spent the rest of the day with his jacket tied around his waist in the semblance of trousers, an action for which he faced multiple detentions from multiple teachers.

To the other boys he was arrogant, to his parents he was lazy, and to the teachers he was “destructively rebellious.” To you, he was the one person who made everything seem like it would be okay, no matter how bleak the circumstance.

The summer you turned eighteen was a pivotal one. Not only was it flooring to realise that you were now a legal adult and could do exactly as you wished, but it was also terrifying to begin to understand the sheer magnitude of things that independence entailed.

You were finishing your last year of school and your final final exams, looking into what to study and where to study it, and it was all very intimidating and rather time consuming.

Roger kept telling you not to worry about it and to just enjoy the summer.

“You’ll work it out,” he’d say. “You always do.”

“Easy for you to say,” you scoffed. “You’ve already got yours worked out.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Roger said as you walked along one stuffy summer evening, scuffing his shoes on the path.

His tone was demure, and you frowned at him, shielding your eyes from the sun with one hand.

“Rog? You said you knew what you were doing, where you were going?”

He flashed you a sad little smile, not like his usual cheeky smirks, and your frown deepened. But then Roger laughed. “‘Course I’ve got it sorted, love. You know me.”

“Wanker,” you shoved him. “Making me worry.”

He only winked. Then he stopped walking. “Hungry?”

You considered a moment. “I’m starved,” you decided.

“Come on, then. Fish and chips by the river?”

You nodded, and you and he meandered down the hill in the sunshine, recalling stories of your last days as school-children.

Many days were spent like this, walking around Truro, often aimlessly, until something interesting crossed your paths or your parents called your lazy selves back home to help with the washing or the grocery shopping. The washing you would hang whilst having a conversation, because the washing lines of your houses were at about the same spot in your back gardens, so you and Roger could yell over the fence to one another.

Of course, you were seldom trusted with the washing any longer, because the last time you had been given that responsibility, Roger had tired of hanging washing and had instead attempted to sabotage your attempts to do so. The affair had ended with a scolding from your mothers, as though you were both still children, and the two of you scrubbing mud stains out of the same washing that had moments before been clean. As for the grocery shopping, it took forever because you and Roger ambled down the road to the shops, spent forever trying to find the specified items on your mothers’ shopping lists, and took a detour down to the river on the way home.

Really, you and Roger were mostly left to your own devices nowadays.

That summer, and every summer since you had been seven years old, you and Roger passed every waking hour together, even occasionally falling asleep beneath the bowing trees atop the Truro hill.

You spent a lot of time with Roger at his bandmate’s family’s holiday cottage where the band, known as The Reaction, would rehearse. In the three-piece band, which had previously been a five-piece, and even earlier on a six-piece, Roger played the drums and occasionally sang. He claimed he was no good at singing, but that, you knew, was an utter lie. Already at seventeen, he sounded professional, like he’d been taught to sing. But he hadn’t, been taught, that was. His talent was completely natural, and equally as abundant. Without even trying, his voice had that rough-edged rock ’n’ roll quality, and he had a lazy prettiness about him that completed the whole image— half-lidded eyes, languid smile, golden hair.

He was talented and beautiful.

He was meant to be seen. And you knew that, all too well. He wouldn’t hang about little Truro forever. But you preferred to push such thoughts to the back of your mind.

When you weren’t tapping your foot against the crate you were sitting on at The Reaction’s practice sessions, you were at their gigs, cheering the loudest at the end of their songs and passing your sweaty best-friend a towel or a bottle of water. If you weren’t tagging along with The Reaction, you and Roger were down by the river, or lying in the grass atop the hill.

And marbles. After all these years, the two of you still played marbles. Roger still had yet to beat you at the game.

On one particularly sweltering Sunday afternoon that broke all sorts of records in England’s weather history, you and Roger were sprawled beneath the trees of the hilltop.

You’d been groaning and complaining about the heat for the better part of an hour, and had anyone else been around, they’d have told you to just shut up, but Roger had elected to try and out-complain you.

“It’s never been this hot before,” you said.

Roger grumbled from beside you, an arm slung over his eyes. “It must be the hottest day on Earth. Hotter than the hottest day on Mercury.”

“Hotter than the hottest day on the Sun,” you countered ruefully, a whine in your tone.

Lifting his arm, Roger glanced over at you. “At least,” he said, “it’s not hotter than me.”

“Ha!” you barked. “You wish.”

“D’you wanna bet? My skin is on fucking fire.”

You blinked drowsily. “You look fine to me.”

The corner of Roger’s mouth turned up. “Thanks, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to complaining.

“Is it just me or is the sun closer than normal?”

“It has to be,” Roger mumbled. “It has to be.”

“Do you want to go down to the river? We could go swimming.”

Roger scrunched up his freckled nose. “We’d have to walk there, first. And it’s way too bloody hot to move.”

You gave another sigh of anguish, shifting your legs to prevent them from sticking to the grass. “I think I’ve at this point drained all the water in my body.”

“Me too.” Roger had sat up and was fanning his face with a hand.

“Could probably die of dehydration if I don’t cool down soon.”

“Me too.” He swept the hair back from his forehead, his skin glistening with sweat.

“It’s so hot,” you whined.

“That’s it. I’m finished.”

“What—”

“Nope,” Roger shook his head, cutting you off. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I laugh at you—”

“You literally always laugh at me.”

“Yeah, okay,” you conceded. “But why now, exactly?”

Roger tutted, then raised a finger warningly. “Just this once. Don’t.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, but then Roger crossed his arms over his torso and pulled his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the side.

You didn’t laugh, because why would you? How could you? You were a little busy trying not to stare at him completely open-mouthed.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him shirtless before— the two of you went swimming all the time and had done since you were children— but somehow this moment flustered you, turned your cheeks even redder with heat than even the sun had been capable of, because he was so undeniably pretty, and now you could not be distracted from that by a splash of river water to the face. Windswept blonde hair with half of it matted against his forehead and cheeks, sleepy blue eyes, lightly-sunkissed skin, shoulders softened but lean from drumming, and a cute little tummy characterised by a spattering of freckles.

Gorgeous.

“You can stop staring at me now.”

You sputtered, “What? I wasn’t—”

A lazy smile curved on his lips as his eyes flicked over you. You felt suddenly short of breath, fighting the urge to shiver at his appraising— was it appraising?— glance.

“No, darling, not at all,” Roger said, lying back on the grass again. “Not at all.”

The rush of blood to your face was almost instantaneous. You considered reprimanding him, but you found that you had nothing to say. Instead, you crossed your arms and turned on your side, away from Roger. You felt suddenly as though you did not want to talk to him at all.

You heard him chuckle, and his fingers brushed your shoulder. The warmth of his touch almost tickled. What was the matter with you?

“Y/N,” he said, his fingertips grazing your shoulder again. You turned over to stop him from touching you a third time. For some reason, it was starting to turn you silly.

“What?” you snapped, willing yourself to maintain eye-contact.

Roger smiled bemusedly, now facing you, lying on his stomach and leaning his chin on his hands. “I was only joking, you know.”

You said nothing.

“About the staring,” he went on with a nod, big blue eyes fixed on your eyes.

Still, you said nothing, as though the air were not thick and his gaze did not move you. But it was and it did. Strangely.

Roger pouted childishly, tilting his head to one side. “Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes. “I know, you idiot.”

He smiled. “There’s my girl,” he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

You didn’t manage to lean away in time, and your hair was now sticking to every part of your face.

“Rog-er!”

His smile only broadened.

Until he caught sight of your watch. A pretty thing, it was, brown leather rim, a little round watch face encased in golden metal. But Roger looked at your watch as though it personally were responsible for world hunger.

“Alright?” you said.

Roger hissed through his teeth. “Please tell me it’s not five-fucking-thirty already.”

Puzzled, you glanced at your watch. “Well, you’re out of luck, because it is indeed five-fucking-thirty…”

Roger swore violently and leapt up.

“We were supposed to be down at the hall half an hour ago,” he agonised, throwing his shirt back on, despite the fact that the material clung like plastic to a wet floor.

The Reaction were playing at the City Hall that evening, and soundcheck had started thirty minutes ago.

“Oh shit,” you remembered, sliding your sunglasses back on your head and running after Roger, who was already halfway down the hill.

“God, Roger, slow down!” you yelled as he barely looked both ways before darting across the road. “We’re not going to be any less late if you get yourself killed!”

A woman passing on the street shot you a scandalised glare, as though shouting was now a crime as well. You just stuck your tongue out at her and sprinted after Roger.

“But we might make it before the actual concert starts!” Roger yelled back.

Quite frankly out of breath, you slowed your pace, until you were walking and Roger was disappearing around the street corner.

You huffed. “Well, you won’t have a concert if your manager gets killed, will you?”

You were The Reaction’s manager.

Roger’s blonde head poked back around the corner. “Sorry, you’re right. Always right.” He sighed. “But come on.” He slipped his hand into yours and pulled you with him, still running but now keeping pace with you. He sort of had to keep pace with you, given that he was holding your hand. But that had been his choice.

Finally, the two of you were rushing up the steps to the Hall, and then you were inside.

“‘Bout bloody time!” cried Mike from the stage, throwing up his hands. “Where the hell’ve you been? We can’t play without a drummer and you know it.”

The both of you were breathless at this point, because you’d really sprinted the last stretch to the Hall, but Roger managed, “Hill. Lost track of time.”

Jim laughed, holding onto his bass guitar as though the whole thing were just too funny for him to handle. “Bet you did,” he said, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. “Pretty girl like Y/N.”

You sneered at Jim.

Roger told him, “You wouldn’t know a pretty girl if she bit you on the nose.”

“But I’ll bet that one bit you elsewhere than on the nose,” Jim chortled, nudging Mike.

“Shut up, Jim,” said Roger, seething with a rare hostility toward his bandmates.

“What’re you even on about?” you shook your head at Jim’s immaturity.

Mike smiled in amusement. “Look, we all know Jim’s an arse, but really, holding hands? This isn’t primary school. People are bound to jump to conclusions.”

You opened your mouth to repeat your previous question, until Roger dropped your hand, and you realised what Mike had been talking about.

You’d all but entirely forgotten that you were holding Roger’s hand.

You glanced at him, but he didn’t look at you.

He walked over to the stage, and Mike gave him a hand up. Roger picked up his drumsticks from where they lay atop his kit, and sat down.

“Alright?” he called to you, because you were standing motionless at the centre of the empty hall floor.

You flashed him a reassuring smile and he nodded back, but beneath your skin, you felt an unfamiliar flutter.

It’s just Roger, you reminded yourself.

But you didn’t believe you.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

You were at the front of the crowd, though the hall was filled to the brim with guests. There were mostly young people, many of whom you recognised from school, but there were also people your parents’ age, and the even elder generation too.

The buzz before the show was incredible, the anticipation almost cloying in its headiness; you felt drunk on excitement, though you’d drunk nothing at all.

Then the lights were shut off, and Quiet swept her elegant hand over the audience. All eyes were trained upon the single spotlight that flooded the darkness of the stage.

You wrung your hands. You held your breath. It was almost too much.

Then Roger’s airy voice rang out through the silence. “One, two, three, four!”

You smiled.

With a flick of his wrist, Roger began the drum fill that opened the first song, and you could see him nodding his head and mouthing the count under his breath.

The spotlight lit up Mike at the front and Jim off to one side, and The Reaction began.

They were well-liked, and tonight’s audience was energetic and appreciative, clapping and cheering and dancing about. It was a good turnout.

Roger caught your eye and winked. Somehow, at every gig, he always managed to spot you, no matter where you were standing. His attention sent a shiver through you.

The concert flew by, and before you knew it, Mike was announcing, “One for the road?”

The crowd responded with a hearty cheer.

Mike laughed. “Really for the road. This’ll be our last show as The Reaction,” he said.

Your mouth fell open. What?

The crowd responded with an equally hearty boo.

Mike clucked his tongue. “It’s been a pleasure, Truro. Thanks for being home.”

Last show? you thought. Have they had a falling out? What the fuck did I miss?

You couldn’t concentrate for the last song. You couldn’t take it all in. You felt weak-kneed, the ground beneath you prepared to open up and swallow you whole at any given moment.

You didn��t take your eyes off of Roger for the remainder of the show, wondering if it was sadness or guilt that twisted in his face. You decided it was a combination of both, because hell, he should feel guilty for having left you out of this.

You headed for the wings of the stage, and you watched the end of the concert from there, arms folded over your chest.

All the energy seemed to have gone out from you, and if you weren’t mistaken, looking at Roger, it had left him too.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

“Roger, what the hell?” you grabbed his arm as soon as he came offstage.

His expression was one of shock and— yes— guilt.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, twirling a drumstick with an absent hand.

You shook your head. “When were you going to tell me that the band was breaking up? Or were you just not going to tell me until it happened?”

Roger pressed his lips together, glancing down at his shoes. “I was going to tell you, really.”

“When?” you demanded. You could feel the heat rising in your face; you were furious.

Roger sighed, setting his drumsticks down on a crate. “Come outside.”

You obliged to follow him out the back, but you wouldn’t let him hold the door for you.

Outside, you realised that you shouldn’t have obliged, because this was where everyone was taking their smoke break. You had asthma. The promise of a coughing fit rattled your chest almost instantly.

Roger winced and pulled you away from the smokers, toward the trees around the back of the building. If you hadn’t been so angry, you would’ve appreciated his considerateness, especially because the only reason Roger had yet to take up smoking was because he knew that you, his best friend, wouldn’t have been able to be around him if he did.

Away from the haze by the back door, you squared your shoulders anew and prepared again to scold Roger for having not told you about the breaking up of The Reaction. But he spoke before you could.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

Of all the shocks you’d received thus far that day, this one threw you the most.

“Leaving?” you said. “What do you mean, leaving? After the gig, now, as in we should go home?”

Roger closed his eyes. “No, darling,” he murmured. “I’m leaving Truro. I’m moving away. For school.”

“What?” The word rang in your ears as a dizziness clouded your mind, rattling your thoughts with tremors like earthquakes.

He met your eyes softly. “I’m going to London. I’m going to study to become a dentist.”

“A dentist?” you stammered. Rock-star Roger, off to be a dentist. It just didn’t fit. He was meant for more than that, you knew he was.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

A sinking feeling took up residence in your stomach, and you were acutely aware of a numbness beginning to crawl up your sides and your neck, the wool-thickness of your throat as you tried to swallow.

As easily as pulling teeth, you forced yourself to become coherent. “When are you leaving?”

“After the summer,” Roger said quietly. “The band’s small enough as a three-piece. They can’t play as a two-piece.”

The thought of the band breaking up had barely occurred to you. Sure, The Reaction were good, but they were just... good. What worried you was losing Roger. But you didn’t dare to think about what you would do when your oldest and greatest friend was gone. You couldn’t bear to. It would take too much out of you.

“They wouldn’t last without you, no matter how many people they had,” you said, because the words felt more true to you than anything else in the world. Roger may have been only the drummer— his words— but he was the spark for The Reaction. Without him, playing a gig would be like trying to burn a fire without oxygen. He had an irreplaceable energy, an easy charm, the rock ‘n’ roll voice, and you would have replaced Ringo Starr with Roger any day. Not that you didn’t like the Beatles as they were, but you really couldn’t imagine anyone playing the drums with as much tact, as much rhythm, as much vivacity, as Roger Meddows Taylor.

“Thanks, love,” Roger breathed, sounding as tired as you suddenly felt.

You nodded distractedly. He took your hands in his.

“So what now?” you said, unwilling to articulate the uneasiness that swamped you, but nonetheless trying to convey the feeling to Roger.

Roger smiled another one of those small smiles that were uncommon to his character, and you knew that he saw right through you. He always did.

“We make the most of this summer.”

Tears pooled in your eyes without warning, and you bit your lip to stop them from falling. You stared at Roger unblinkingly, and the sappiness in your heart washed through the entirety of your being.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, and your voice wavered.

Roger closed his eyes again, almost as though in pain, before he reached out his arms and folded you against his chest.

He whispered into your hair and his words hummed along your warmed skin.

“My darling, I will miss you infinitely more.”

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

You and Roger made a list. A list of all the things you wanted to do before the summer was over. Before Roger left.

It was extensive.

You were going to get up early and go to the hill to see the sun rise, because you hadn’t done that since you were ten.

You were going to go swimming at the river by moonlight, which was a compromise to Roger’s idea of skinny dipping— you’d shut that down immediately.

Roger was going to teach you how to drum, and you were going to teach him how to draw, and he insisted on taking you to some obscure record shop just outside of town, and you insisted that he learn to cook.

You were going to build a house of cards, if Roger didn’t knock it down with his sighs of boredom.

Roger said that the two of you should try to stay awake for twenty-four hours straight, and that you should help him improve his French by learning the language too.

You planned a picnic at the top of the big tree on the Truro hill, where someone had, years ago, nailed planks of wood between the upper tree boughs.

You were going to have breakfast or lunch or dinner in every single fucking place in the centre of Truro.

You were going to develop all the film you had lying around from various years.

You were going to visit your school one last time.

You were going to eat ice cream for breakfast.

And you were going to go swimming for hours every day until Roger’s hair turned white-blonde from the sun.

Most ambitious of all the things on the list, however, was Roger’s intention to beat you at marbles. You knew he never would.

With every summer day that passed, you and Roger scrawled new items on the list, and so, even though you crossed a couple of things off the list each day, a blind man could’ve seen that you would never get to do everything. Not before Roger left.

You realised this on the day you tried to stay awake for twenty-four hours.

You’d ended up in your usual spot on Truro hill, and were both rather giggly from having got no sleep, and from Roger’s suggestion to get drunk to pass the time. Altogether a terrible idea.

“Roger,” you said, laughing for no reason as the long blades of seaglass-coloured grass tickled your skin.

Roger laughed too, tossing his blonde head to catch a brief glimpse of the swarm of fireflies that had been hovering nearby for the past few hours.

“Roger,” you said again. You didn’t laugh, because he finally looked at you, and your heart fluttered at the liquid blue of his eyes. “We’ll never do it all.”

The smile disappeared from his face, and you hated that you were the one to take it away.

“I won’t be gone forever,” he said. “And you can come visit me in London, and I’ll… I’ll come visit you wherever you are!”

“But it won’t be the same,” you murmured sadly.

Roger intertwined his fingers with yours, and he sounded suddenly sober when he spoke. “I know.”

Then, as his thumb ran softly over the back of your hand, you asked what you’d been afraid to ask for weeks. “When are you leaving, exactly?”

He stopped moving his fingers. “The first. Of September.”

You inhaled sharply. “But that’s—”

“The day after tomorrow,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Roger sighed. “For the same reason I didn’t tell you I was leaving in the first place.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t want to leave you.”

As it happened, Roger didn’t learn how to cook, though he did ruin your house of cards. You never made it to every restaurant, cafe, and bar in central Truro. Roger didn’t beat you at marbles.

But you did all the other things. Every single little thing. And Roger’s hair turned white-blonde, so he resembled an angel even more than he had previously, though he was anything but.

And then came September.

It was raining, the first day of the month, as though the rain had sensed your mood and had arrived in a show of solidarity.

He’d said goodbye to his sister, to his parents and yours, to every girl on the street that had ever had a crush on him. Which was all of them, really.

You went with him all the way to the train platform, because he had yet to say goodbye to you. And to let go of your hand.

You’d walked the whole way, taking the scenic route about the landmarks of the memories of where you’d grown up together.

To Roger, you pointed out all the places you’d waited for him when he’d been running late to some rendezvous or another, and to you Roger pointed out all the places he and his various bands had over the years tried (and usually failed) to book gigs.

You talked. You laughed. You tried not to think. If you let yourself think, you would only think about where the end of this walk would take you. And you knew that the end would take you much farther than memory lane, beyond it and into a bleak future. A future without your best friend.

The light was fading from the sky when the train and its cars rattled into the station, and Roger set down his suitcase. He had gone quiet over the last few minutes.

It baffled you how easily he could pack up and just leave, but nonetheless, there he stood on the platform, with his favourite velvety jacket and one tanned-leather suitcase.

He pulled you into a hug.

You buried your nose in his shoulder.

“You’ll write, won’t you?” you said.

“Every week,” he promised.

“And you won’t forget about me?”

Roger laughed softly. “How could I forget you, the girl I couldn’t beat at fucking marbles.”

You barked a laugh, but it came out as more of a sob.

“Hey, hey sweetheart,” Roger murmured, pulling you off of his shoulder to brush the hair from your eyes. “Don’t cry, love.”

“How d’you expect me not to do that?” you said, your voice sounding small and pathetic.

Roger had no smart remark, no cheeky innuendo or quick response. “I’m going to go before I start too.”

You scoffed. “The only time I’ve ever seen you cry was when you were eight and scraped your skin raw on that rock by the river.”

The rock had been slippery, and Roger had slipped. There’d been blood for days, hips and elbows and knees scraped clean, bones broken and skin badly bruised. Luckily, the water where Roger had fallen in had not been deep, and you’d managed to get him out of the river, and home as well, where you’d lied to your parents, saying that he’d fallen off his bike. They never would have let you go back to the river on your own if you’d told them the truth. But that river was your favourite place in the world, and Roger’s too. He’d always said so.

“Oh, don’t let’s talk about that,” he said with a grimace. “I’ll miss that stupid bloody river, even for all the trouble it’s got me into.”

You laughed again.

You’d miss Roger making you laugh, even when it was through tears. All the better when it was through tears; that he could do that was just one of the many reasons why you loved him.

You loved him and his smile, and his stupidly pretty hair and wide eyes, and his insolence and his childishness, and how he knew what you were thinking at any given moment. You loved how he made you feel, like you didn’t need to be anyone in particular, but just that you, and you alone, were enough.

“I love you.”

You hadn’t meant to say it, you really hadn’t. You didn’t want to be that person, giving the other something to hold onto, to hold them back. You didn’t want to be another girl in love with Roger, just one in a hundred. But you weren’t in love. You just loved him.

Or that was what you told yourself anyway.

You changed your mind when Roger’s hand came to rest on your cheek. The world around you spun slowly; it felt suspended in time.

You were in love with him.

Roger leaned forward and his lovely eyelashes fluttered closed.

Your breath hitched and you fell utterly motionless.

Then, ever so gently, he pressed a kiss to your lips. Closed-mouthed and soft, it was still enough to turn your strength watery and your skin alight as his fingertips pressed along your jaw.

And that it was Roger kissing you— it thrilled you, terrified you in equal amounts.

Still, as he pulled back, you gravitated toward him. You wanted to keep his mouth on yours, make your breath his, make him melt as he had made you melt.

But when he dropped his hand, he made no acknowledgement of what he had just done.

Don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave don’t—

“I have to go,” he said, tenderness forgotten by all but the quietness of his tone.

You nodded mutely, squeezed his hand one last time.

Then you were wiping your tears away, alone on the platform, and hours had passed since Roger had left you standing there. But you couldn’t remember a single one of them.

All you remembered was him.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

1968-1974

It saddened you deeply, but the fact was, it hadn’t taken long to fall out of contact.

Roger had called every now and then, and had written every week, precisely as he had promised.

And you’d written back.

But it was difficult, when he was off in London, such a lively and interesting place, and you were back in ol’ Cornwall. Everything you had to say paled in comparison with what he wrote. You shouldn’t have wondered if he groaned tiredly each time he received a letter from you.

Yet he wrote back every time, about dentistry and biology and about how it all alternatingly bored or taxed him. But mostly he wrote about music, about his experimenting with guitar and drums, though he had more of an aptitude for the latter than the former.

Then one day, the tone of his letters changed. He’d met some bloke named Brian May, and it sounded like they’d struck up a friendship, and a band. They called themselves ‘Smile’.

You were there to read Roger’s letters when Smile became Queen and Farrokh Bulsara became Freddie Mercury, and when nineteen year-old John Deacon replaced Mike Grose on bass guitar.

But you’d stopped responding to the letters. And so Roger stopped calling.

He kept writing, though. For years.

In 1971, you moved out of Truro, farther south to Falmouth to study at the university there, and your family followed.

You had hoped that the move to Falmouth— to a new city, to begin anew your education, to make new friends— would replenish you. But the truth was, you’d never really been good at new. Everything in your life had always been there— Truro, a school established in 1880, old friends. Well, old friend. You’d never really got around to making more than one. Roger had been all you’d needed. Roger had felt like home.

Truro had stopped feeling like home the day he’d left.

Falmouth had never even had a chance.

By the time you’d mustered the will to respond to Roger’s letters again, the one you sent came right back to you, stamped with Return to Sender.

You’d cried that day.

You’d cried for love lost, for everything you hadn’t had the time to do, for everything you were missing that was happening in your former best friend’s life.

Even three years later, in 1971, one year since the letters had stopped, you weren’t used to living without Roger by your side. You thought of him every day.

At first he had been a voice in your head, remarking on everything you said and did. A snide remark, a tooth-achingly sweet compliment that came from out of nowhere.

It was as though you were possessed.

By 1972, everywhere you went, you thought you saw him, though of course it was never him.

By 1973, though you now thought of Roger only sometimes, little things led back to him. Bubblegum. Bicycles. Poached eggs for breakfast. Train stations, suitcases, ticket stubs and playing cards.

Or perhaps you were haunted.

It was in 1974 that everything changed again.

You saw the advertisement in the paper, and you made your decision.

It was as simple as that.

Queen were to play in Penzance, which, by way of train, was only an hour away from where you lived. So, without hope or agenda, you were going to Penzance, to see Queen play, to see Roger, and his new best friends whom you’d never met.

The allure of seeing him again was simply too great, because fuck it all, six years had gone by and you still could not shake his lopsided smile from your memory.

Having had tea at a local cafe, you arrived alone at Winter Gardens in Penzance at seven o’clock, thirty minutes before the start of the concert.

The venue was small, and yet it was already filling up. Sure, you’d heard of Queen through the occasional newspaper or magazine, and through Roger’s letters, but you weren’t aware that they had such a large following.

The support act was all right, you thought, but to be entirely honest, you had a hard time paying attention. You were distracted, wondering what the headliner would be like.

Six years would have changed the face of your friend, but you hoped you’d still recognise the boy you’d played marbles with. You wondered if he would recognise you, in the crowd, like he used to.

The opener finished their act, and they bowed and departed the scene.

Then Queen took to the stage.

The guitarist, whom you remembered to be named Brian, opened the set with a series of notes harmonised with delay, and the rest of the band entered.

The lead singer Freddie, bassist John, and guitarist Brian were all dressed in flamboyant garb, all loose sleeves and sparkly thread, with dark makeup to highlight their eyes.

But Roger.

No kohl embellished his features. They stood out as it was.

His hair had grown long in the time he’d been away, and the planes of his face had leveled out, cheekbones and jawline sharpened by the evanescence of childhood. Still, the big blue eyes and the slight pout to his mouth remained, and his beauty was staggering.

The music they played was electrifying, and Freddie certainly knew how to manage a crowd. He became the crowd, and he was a magician, the ringleader of a circus, the friend who nudged you at a concert when the band played your favourite song. He played off of the others, and they played off of him. Roger in particular seemed energised by the effervescence of Freddie Mercury, smiling and laughing between singing and playing the drums.

Roger was even better at the drums than you remembered, and you found yourself enraptured by the rhythm he kept, your pulse thrumming in time with the beat.

You were swept away. Your eyes hardly left him.

“Alright, alright, alright!” Freddie cried, and the audience responded in kind. He surveyed the people before him in a flirtatious manner. “You’re all beautiful,” he said. “Thank you for having us here tonight, we’re very pleased about this whole thing. You’ve been lovely, so how about one more?”

A cheer rose from the crowd and you joined in.

“Alright, my lovelies. I’ll let my blondie pal, who I’m sure you’re all very familiar with, probably because he’s flirted with all of you at least once—” here there came another cheer from the audience— “introduce the number. Rogerrrr!”

Roger laughed, shaking the hair out of his eyes. You smiled, remembering when you’d been the one to make him laugh like that, all glowy and soft.

“Ha ha, thanks a lot, Freddie. Anyway, this one’s called ‘Modern Times…”

Roger was looking right at you.

His lips were parted in surprise, his brow furrowed in something that looked to you like anguish.

Hello, he mouthed to you.

Hi, Rog, you mouthed back.

His face broke into a smile.

“This one’s… this one’s called ‘Modern Times Rock ‘N’ Roll’.” He raised a drumstick and pointed it in your direction. “For you.”

Fondly, you shook your head at him. He really never did stop flirting.

You saw Freddie glance back at Roger with an expression of amusement.

Then Roger hit the drums, and the guitar and bass followed, and Freddie gave a shout to start off the song.

After the final encore had been played, Freddie thanked the crowd once more, Roger waved his drumsticks, Brian raised his guitar, and John took a bow.

If it had been anyone other than those four, you would’ve said that they were being pretentious. But this wasn’t pretentious. This was Queen.

The venue slowly emptied out, but you remained where you were. When the front was clear and there was nothing between you and the low-raised stage, you went to lean against it. You needed a moment to think.

Did you go after Roger now? Or did you just go?

He’d seen you. He’d acknowledged you. But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk to you, catch up, no matter how much you wanted that.

You headed for the door.

“Y/N!”

You turned around, and before you could react, Roger was running forward, and he barrelled straight into you.

He threw his arms around you and held to you tightly, stepping from foot to foot and rocking you gently in his hold. You felt him bury his face in your hair, and a tingly feeling skittered down your spine as his sigh tickled your skin.

You wrapped your arms around him and breathed in his familiar smell— lemon chamomile shampoo to keep his hair bright blonde, coffee with his ridiculous one and three-sevenths sugar, soap and a prickle of sweat.

And something else.

Was it… no, it couldn’t be. Cigarettes.

“Roger, have you started smoking?”

He laughed in an endearingly bright manner, pulling back from the embrace to look at you. “I haven’t seen you for six years and that’s the first thing you say?” He shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a lovely smile.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed with him, and he hugged you again.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Roger said, squeezing you tightly. “How’ve you been?”

“I—”

“Who’s your friend, Rog?”

Freddie Mercury appeared by the door to the backstage, a sly smile on his lips. He’d taken off his makeup and looked quite young in the now brightly-lit room.

Roger let go of you gently as Brian and John arrived on the scene as well.

“It wouldn’t be the legendary Y/N, would it?” asked Brian.

“Legendary?” you snorted.

“Mmh,” John said, “I think it might very well be. We aren’t far from Cornwall, you know.”

Roger rolled his eyes. He gestured to you, his other arm still around your waist and his palm bleeding delightful warmth into your skin. “Yes, this is Y/N,” he said.

“Nah, I’m just another groupie,” you joked.

Freddie strode forward, extending his hand to you.

“No, you’re not, darling,” he said, shaking your hand with a regal air. “Rog doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.” Freddie winked and you found yourself blushing at his remark.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you said lamely. You elbowed Roger to ease the tension, hoping you could rely on your old best friend for a reaction. “How many have you had?”

“Hey!” Roger pouted and rubbed his side. “Six years, and you just elbow me right in the ribs.”

He really wouldn’t let go of those six years.

“Like old times,” you said.

Roger practically beamed at that, and you wondered if really he had missed you as much as you had missed him. “Oh, we’ve got so much to catch up on,” he said animatedly. “But first, meet the other two sods I work with.”

Brian and John exchanged a glance.

“Rude,” Brian sniffed. He came over to shake your hand as well. “I’m Brian.”

“I actually knew that,” you smiled, “Rog sent me letters for a while.”

“Ah, so you were the one he was writing to,” Brian quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re a bit slow on the uptake, dear,” Freddie said.

Brian sighed. “Thanks, Fred.”

“Then I suppose you know I’m John,” said he, greeting you with a friendly smile to accompany his handshake.

“Yes,” you nodded, returning the smile.

“We call him Deacy, though,” Roger, who still had his arm around you, added.

You turned your head to look at him. “I know, Rog.”

Roger smiled at you again and your skin warmed. “Yeah, I suppose I wrote that to you.” Then he said softly, “Why’d we ever stop writing?”

You’d told yourself it was the mix up of addresses, but really, it was a bit more than that, wasn’t it? After all, you might have tried getting a hold of Roger’s parents and getting his new address from them.

Freddie interrupted by clearing his throat, and you were honestly quite grateful for it, because with the way Roger had been gazing at you just then, all soft-eyed and sweet, you might have been tempted to kiss him.

“That’s a conversation for another time, darlings,” Freddie said. “We’re going to the pub for a drink. Would you like to come, Y/N?”

You tore your eyes away from Roger, only to glance at him again to see if he was okay with you tagging along. You took his smile as a yes.

“Oh, uh... Yes, I’ll come,” you said.

“Excellent!” Freddie exclaimed, and Brian and Deacy followed him out the door.

You started after them, but Roger pulled you back. “I really have missed you,” he said earnestly.

You couldn’t keep the smile from your face.

“I’ve missed you too, Rog.”

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

Roger, of course, remembered your drink order and brought it to you from the bar. He also wouldn’t let you pay for it, because he insisted his income was far more than yours, which was probably an understatement.

“So,” Brian said, “Y/N, what’re you studying at uni?”

A collective groan came from the others.

“What?” Brian asked.

“Darling, the poor girl does not want to talk about uni,” Freddie put an arm around Brian’s shoulders. “Do you really think she’s hanging out with us for boring adult-talk?”

Brian frowned.

You laughed. Brian seemed to you the kind of person who actually thoroughly enjoyed a life of research and studying; it probably hadn’t occurred to him that discussing one’s major was a staple boring-topic, one that was only brought up when there was absolutely nothing else to talk about.

“It’s fine,” you waved Freddie off. “I’m a history major. Specialising in World War Two.”

Brian tipped his glass toward you. “See, now that’s impressive. I could never remember all those people and all those dates.”

“He was a science major,” said Roger in an aside to you, leaning his shoulder against yours. You leaned into his touch.

“Astrophysics, actually,” Brian corrected him, and you saw John— Deacy— roll his eyes.

“What about you two, Freddie, Deacy?” you inquired.

“You don’t want to ask about mine?” Roger smirked.

You shrugged. “Dentistry. Switched to biology.”

He smiled slowly. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered,” you said, and if it was even possible, Roger’s eyes softened. He was still the boy you’d loved six years ago, and it was as though no time had passed at all. Your dynamic with him was exactly the same as it had been for the whole of your life. Your heart still lost its pattern when he touched your hand.

“I studied electrical engineering,” Deacy said, as Freddie gave a little ahem, and you realised that you’d just spent a good many seconds gazing at Roger.

“Oh,” you said, feeling your skin pinken slightly. “How, um, interesting.”

Deacy chuckled. “The usual response.”

“Oh no, you must get that all the time, I’m sorry,” you stammered, “I’m not entirely sure about the specifics of electrical engineering—”

“And they would bore you to death, darling,” Freddie interjected. “It’s all far too technical. But for some perspective, Deacy here built his own amp from something he found in a tip.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did you really?”

John nodded humbly, but you could see that he was really rather pleased. Fair enough, too. His sound at the concert had been excellent.

“Freddie did art,” Roger continued. “He designed our logo, for Queen.”

“Wow,” you said.

Freddie pulled a black sketchbook from out of nowhere. He flipped it open to a specific page, which had been opened to rather often, going by the creases down the spine of the sketchbook, and pointed a carefully manicured fingernail to the paper.

“There. It’s made up of our star signs.”

Freddie proceeded to explain in detail how he’d gotten the idea for and designed the logo.

“We’re all impressive, really,” said Roger, voicing your exact thoughts.

You laughed, “Not to mention you’re rockstars.”

“We’ve definitely got something to fall back on if it all goes wrong,” Brian said, to which Freddie made a face.

“It won’t go wrong, though,” you said. “Look at how far you’ve already made it. It’s brilliant! Queen’s brilliant!”

Freddie laughed delightedly. “Oh, I like you,” he said.

“Could it be that Rog has finally improved his taste in women?” wondered Brian with a grin.

John was smiling too. “Yes, I think you should hang around us more often, Y/N. Bit of an ego boost, you know.”

“Like we need an ego boost,” Roger scoffed. “We bloody well named ourselves Queen. And besides,” he went on, hugging you to his side, “Y/N’s been around me forever. You just had the misfortune of waiting so long to meet her.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What is it you want, Roger? You’re never this nice unless you want something.”

Freddie let out a cackle, and Brian choked on his beer as Deacy laughed.

On the other side of the table, moments later, Brian was still having trouble breathing, so John ran to get a glass of water while Freddie thumped him on the back.

But Roger turned to you.

“I want you in my life again,” he said quietly.

Your heart stuttered.

You wanted that too, desperately.

But how could you be in his life again when you had your education to think of, and he had Queen? Hell, you wouldn’t even have time to properly catch up before he and the others moved onto the next concert location.

“At least for the next few days.” His voice was so wistful. “Please?”

You’d only brought with you the clothes you were wearing, the crossbody bag that hung against your hip. You’d booked a return ticket on the nighttrain. You would miss that train, waste that money. You would miss classes at uni.

But the please had done it. For all his cheek and flirtations, Roger was still the first boy who’d even been properly polite to you, without wanting anything in return.

You nodded slowly. “I can take off a few days. But you’ll have to lend me some clothes or something, because I didn’t—”

“Oh, not to worry,” he said, waving a hand. “You always wore that flower print shirt of mine far better than I did, anyway.” He had the gall to wink at you, and your stomach dropped to your toes.

Before you could pretend not to be flustered, Deacy returned with Brian’s glass of water, and Freddie gave a sigh of relief.

“Well thank goodness for you, darling,” he said to John. “I think he’s hacked his throat raw.”

Brian did look rather pink in the face, but at least he’d stopped coughing.

He sipped his water gingerly, then muttered, “I think I’d like to go home, now.”

“Can’t go home, dearie,” said Freddie. “We’re on tour!”

Roger glanced at his watch. “One o’clock. I think it’s past your bedtime, Brian,” he chuckled.

Deacy laughed. Brian looked miserable.

Freddie shook his head. “Hotel, anyone?”

Roger nodded. “Early start and all that.”

As the five of you filed out the door, you bit your lip. You had no idea as to what hotel they were staying at, and you hoped you could afford a room there.

“Where is it you’re staying?” you asked casually.

“Oh, just down the road,” said Roger.

“Only place for miles, so not much choice, y’know,” Deacy smiled.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Freddie patted Deacy’s shoulder. “He’s too used to the glamorous life. Likes making choices. No fun when he’s got none to make.”

Freddie led the way down the boulevard.

The hotel didn’t look too fancy, so you felt a little better as the four of them picked up keys to their rooms, having provided some ridiculous fake names. They then waited for you patiently at the side of the lobby, conversing with some of the roadies who had also returned back from the pub.

“Hi,” you said, approaching the front desk, “a single room for one night, please.”

The lady at the front desk winced, but in a rather apathetic manner. “Ah, sorry,” she said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. She wrinkled her long nose as she peered at you. “No vacancies for tonight.”

Your skin felt suddenly clammy.

This was the only hotel for miles. John had said so.

You swallowed, your throat constricting. “Okay, well, thanks anyway.”

You turned away before desk-lady could pick up on your terror and revel in it. She seemed the kind of person who would enjoy turning someone away just for the feeling of authority that came with it. Or maybe that was just your spite talking.

What were you going to do? There was nowhere to go for the night. And you’d have missed that train by now, so there wasn’t even the chance of going home tonight and simply meeting up with Queen at their next rendezvous.

You felt like again like the nervous child you’d once been as you made your way over to the group.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your fingers curling around Roger’s sleeve.

“Hi gorgeous,” he smiled. “Desk lady wasn’t too mean to you, was she? She can be a bit uptight sometimes. Think all she needs a really good shag—”

“Um, Rog,” you cut him off, “there were no vacancies.”

“Oh,” Roger frowned. “Well, not to worry. You can stay with me.”

Relief rushed out of you in a breath.

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling silly for having even worried.

Roger shrugged. “How shit of a friend would I have to be to just tell you to get lost?”

A smile found its way to your lips. You were back to being friends.

“Everything alright?” Freddie joined you and Roger.

“Perfectly. Well, more or less, anyway,” he amended. “They had no vacancies, but Y/N will just stay with me instead.”

Mischief glittered in Freddie’s eyes. “Ah,” he said. “Have fun, dears.”

He was up the stairs to the next floor before you could correct him.

Brian looked over. “Did Freddie just say ‘have fun’?”

You blushed, “Yeah, well, he didn’t, um…” You gestured between you and Roger. “I mean, we’re not—”

You looked to Roger to see if he would help you out, but he just stood there, his arms crossed and a little smile playing on his lips.

“Of course not,” said Brian, but he was grinning.

“Roger!” Deacy called.

Roger turned.

“Use protection,” John said pointedly.

Roger rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, all of you. Come on, Y/N, let’s get away from these idiots.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you simply followed Roger.

You let him guide you up the stairs and toward his room, his hand pressing softly against the small of your back.

You normally hated anyone touching your back— it felt too intimate, a violation of personal space— but growing up with Roger, the two of you had pushed and shoved each other at any given moment, into the river, off of the fence you were sitting on, down a hallway, and so Roger’s fingers on your back were familiar. Though of course his touch was now gentle in place of forceful.

Gentle.

You stiffened thinking about the weight of his palm on your skin, quite forgetting to breathe, then attempted to right your inhale-exhale without him noticing that anything was off.

But he noticed, as his hand dropped from your back so that he could unlock the hotel room door.

“Alright, love?” he said.

“Yeah, fine,” you loosed a breath carefully.

Roger smiled bemusedly, then held the door open for you. “Welcome to my humble, one-night abode,” he said.

“Thank you,” you responded courteously, and went inside.

You surveyed the room.

A shiny, new-looking television, an ample wooden wardrobe, a door that presumably led to a connecting bathroom, an armchair with bright orange upholstery, a few plastic plants, Roger’s open luggage tossed to the floor on one side of the room, the wallpaper and floor unstained, and a double bed. Not too shabby for a gig-night stop off.

A bed. As in a singular noun. One.

Roger shut the door behind you.

He caught sight of your face, the barely-concealed nervousness that skittered behind your eyes.

“Ah. Yes,” he said slowly. “One bed. Sorry about that. I’ll just take some cushions and the floor—”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” you told him. “You’ve been out all day, and what with the concert and all, you must be exhausted. You always were, back home.”

Your rambling gave way to quiet as the both of you slipped into silent reminiscence about earlier days. “Besides,” you went on, with what you hoped was an easy smile, “we used to share sleeping spaces all the time, when we were younger.”

It was true. Sleeping under the stars atop Truro hill, sleeping in hammocks by the river, sleeping with your head on Roger’s shoulder on the bus back from a school excursion.

“Oh, all the places I fell asleep,” Roger laughed, no doubt talking about his ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time at all. “Right. Do you want to take a shower?”

“Do I smell that awful?”

Roger scoffed. “‘Course not,” he said. “You always smell lovely. Like flowers.”

Once more, you didn’t know what to say to that, so you continued the other half of the conversation. You normally showered in the mornings, but the concert hall had been hot, and you were pretty sure someone had spilled beer on you at one point. You set down your bag and your jumper. “If there’s enough towels, I’ll take a shower.”

Roger nodded. “There’s more in the cupboard under the sink. You go on. I’ll go after.”

You took your shower quickly because the time was already nearing two o’clock in the morning, and Roger still had to take his. You were towel-drying your hair as you walked out of the bathroom, redressed in your day clothes, not wanting to hog the space.

Roger was rifling through his luggage, and upon hearing you re-enter the room, he straightened up and tossed you a washed-out cotton blend t-shirt.

You caught it. “Thanks.”

Roger gave a friendly smile and ruffed your hair as he passed you on his way to the bathroom.

You swapped your shirt quickly, feeling rather uncomfortable about changing in a hotel room that wasn’t your own. You walked over to the bed and pulled the covers out from where they’d been tucked in tightly. Hotels always folded the covers in so bloody tightly. You nearly fell over trying to tug them free.

You settled beneath the duvet, hesitating briefly before slipping off your denim jeans. It was ridiculous, of course— the thought of sleeping in those stiff trousers!— but your stomach roiled with nerves all the same. You’d slept beside Roger before, yes, but at least then you’d been fully dressed, or had been wearing your own pyjamas. This was something else. You could smell the faint aroma of lemon and chamomile which saturated his t-shirt.

Since you could only find one pillow on the bed, you’d taken the cushion from the orange armchair to use for the night, and as you lay your head down, you could hear the muffled sound of Roger singing in the shower.

You smiled to yourself. It was unlikely he realised how much his singing carried through the wall.

You loved his voice. You relished the times he sang in front of you unabashedly, which was rare, because he normally only felt comfortable singing when he was already onstage, drinking in the confidence of a fully fledged performance. But it was different when he sang alone, and sang without accompaniment. It was rawer, a little softer.

The water shut off, and after a few minutes, Roger returned. You felt him sink down beside you.

“Y/N?” he asked quietly, probably wondering if you were already asleep. You were facing away from him, so he couldn’t tell.

You turned your head to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Oh,” he said, and your eyes caught on the little blonde wisps that curled about his face. He looked very young in that moment, and your heart twisted at the rush of old memories. “I was just seeing if you were already asleep.”

“Not anymore,” you joked. “You sing in the shower.”

Roger actually blushed. He never blushed.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You know you’ve got a beautiful voice, idiot.”

He smiled. “Not beautiful, but fairly alright.”

“Beautiful,” you insisted.

Roger smiled with downcast eyes, his hair falling about his face, and the warm light of the room rendering him more boyishly pretty than ever.

God, you wanted to hold him. Wrap him in your arms and hold him close and kiss the top of his head until you both drifted off to sleep.

“Right,” he said, “we’d better get some sleep. Off again tomorrow, early.”

You nodded silently.

Roger got beneath the covers and switched off the lamp.

You heard him sigh as he settled down, his muscles likely aching from the show. You’d often massaged his shoulders after The Reaction’s gigs.

The bed was quite small, and Roger practically radiated heat. It was nice, really, because it was late March and the weather was still on the cold side of things. The only problem was that you wanted to shift closer to him.

You startled as Roger’s knee bumped your thigh.

“Oops, sorry sweetheart,” he said, and you tried not to disintegrate as his breath tickled your ear.

“It’s fine,” you responded quietly.

There was silence, and then Roger murmured, “You okay? I’m not hogging the covers, am I?”

If you turned around now, you’d be nose to nose with him.

You released a shuddering breath. “No, no, it’s fine,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and subdue the tingling sensation that hummed along your skin.

“Cold?” Roger spoke again.

You wished he’d shut up and go to sleep so that you could stop thinking about how close he lay to you.

You gave a frustrated huff. “No, I’m fine,” you bit out.

“You’re shivering.”

You were.

“What are you going to do about it,” you said, more in exasperation than as an actual question.

“Well, feel free to kick me off the bed now, but…”

He trailed off, and you were about to ask what he was on about when, tentatively, he wrapped an arm around your waist.

You inhaled sharply.

The material of the t-shirt you wore had ridden up; there was nothing between your skin and his.

“Is that okay?” he asked softly.

You forced yourself to exhale normally, though your heart stuttered in your chest and demanded you breathe at the pace of a sprinter. “Yeah.”

He pulled you closer until your back was flush against his chest and you were close enough to hear his heartbeat.

Slowly, he nestled his nose into your hair, his face resting at the crook of your neck.

You could hardly breathe.

Forget kissing; lying this close to someone, the warmth of their skin flooding yours, the rise and fall of their chest matching your own as they breathed gently, was so intimate.

It was underrated how utterly lovely it was to just lie with someone, all close, with gentle movements and whispered words.

And here you lay with Roger.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

The morning came swiftly, because in Roger’s arms, you’d fallen asleep quickly.

The sun crept into the morning sky, seeming almost timid in how its light seeped back into England’s little corner of the world, slowly, as though afraid to wake you.

You turned over carefully, but there were no arms to shift from around you.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you realised that the curtains were open. Roger was nowhere to be seen, but his suitcase now stood by the door, packed but not closed, and folded clothes lay on the armchair across from the bed.

You sat up slowly, wondering how he could have got up, packed his suitcase, and left the room without you noticing. You must have been very deeply asleep.

You slipped out of bed, touching your toes to the floor with a hiss at the cold of the wood. Crossing the room, you found that a note bearing your name rested atop the clothes on the armchair. Moving the note, you picked up the shirt that lay atop the folded stack. It was orange. Printed with flowers. Roger’s hippie shirt.

You pulled off the shirt you’d slept in and picked up the other.

Just as the door to the room swung open.

You were standing in only your bra and knickers. You gave a cry of alarm.

“Ah,” Roger said, “sorry, sweetheart.”

“Fuck’s sake, Roger!’

“Oh, ‘s alright,” Roger shut the door behind him, “we’ve known each other forever, hey? Not like I haven’t seen you in your bathers before.”

You threw on Roger’s orange shirt hurriedly, fingers fumbling to button the thing up. “I’m not in my bathers, Rog.”

Your back was to him, but you saw him shrug in your peripheral vision, folding his arms as he leaned back against the door. “Same cut, really. No less skin. Besides, it’s not like you’ve got anything to be embarrassed about.”

You’d finally finished with the bloody buttons and were now pulling your jeans back on. “Excuse me?” you said.

“Well, you’re beautiful.”

He said it so simply, like it was a fact, common knowledge, indisputable.

“Beautiful?” you murmured, creases settling between your eyes.

“I guess beautiful is a relative term,” he elaborated, “what with all that ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ stuff, but to me, I mean. To me, you’re beautiful.”

You gaped at him.

You couldn’t believe that you were having this conversation. At the break of dawn on a Sunday morning. And with Roger no less.

“Roger,” you said, because he wasn’t looking at you. He glanced up, eyes wide and questioning, as though it were not out of place to say such things as those which he had said, as though he were not being bold, reckless.

“Why?” you asked, because you couldn’t voice the full thought. Why say this now? Why say it at all?

Roger only pressed his lips together. “You can put your jumper in my suitcase. Take one of my jackets instead. It’s supposed to be colder in Taunton.”

You frowned.

“Just close it when you’re finished. It’s on the heavy side, so I’ll take it down.”

He was gone from the room before you could say another word.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

The road to Taunton was three hours long, but Freddie insisted it would pass in a flash.

“We’ve got Scrabble,” he’d said smilingly.

“Scrabble?” you’d asked. “How much time can we really pass with Scrabble?”

Brian had shaken his head at you as he’d got on the bus. “You underestimate the power of wooden lettered tiles in times of need.”

“And you underestimate Freddie’s ability to make up words,” Deacy had added, taking a bite out of what appeared to be a cheese toastie— weird breakfast choice, but okay. You had other things to worry about. Like the fact that Roger couldn’t seem to decide whether the two of you were best friends or arch-nemeses.

You’d begun playing Scrabble with the boys before the bus had even started moving, but unfortunately, Scrabble was a four-person game, so this had required two of you to become a partnership. Roger had volunteered for you and him to be partners, and you’d mutely agreed.

Freddie sat by the window on one side of the bus’ little dining booth, flanked by Deacy. Brian sat across from John and next to Roger, whose side was flush against yours where you inhabited the other window seat.

When he leaned forward to reach for tiles or lay down a word, you felt the shift of his muscles, and before your turns, he’d lean toward you and talk softly in conspiratorial tones. It was difficult to concentrate when he did this, because his breath feathered across your face and his eyes were intent on yours, and the way he murmured his words made your insides flutter.

Really, Freddie was right; the bus rolled into Taunton before hardly any time had passed.

The afternoon was taken up by soundcheck, and when evening came and Queen stood in the wings, ready to go onstage to the already raging cheers, you stood with them.

It was surreal, not only the thought of the size of the crowd that awaited your friend’s band, but how similar it all was to the days when you’d waited in the wings with The Reaction.

The final preparations for showtime were the same. The combination of nerves and excitement that rushed through you was the same. The electricity that seemed to hum beneath each word, every movement, was the same. It was all the same.

An aching sort of nostalgia clawed at your chest, and you turned to your right to see Roger tapping his drumsticks absently against his leg.

He caught your eye and smiled. “Just like old times,” he said.

With his bright blonde hair and wide eyes framed by long lashes, you were again shocked by how young he still looked.

It was all the same.

At least on the surface.

You and Roger were not the people you had once been. The days of hands sticky with melted ice cream, of running about town pretending to be Clint Eastwood in some forgotten Western movie, were long past. No matter how much the thought may have saddened you.

This was real life.

The cheering out beyond the wings reached a crescendo, and Freddie’s face broke into a smile. He winked at you and disappeared into the darkness of the unlit stage.

With a deep breath and a smile exchanged with Brian, Deacy followed Freddie, and Brian followed Deacy.

Roger remained.

“Go,” you told him. “Your subjects await.”

He laughed. “Alright then. Give us a good luck kiss.”

He angled his cheek toward you, and you considered taking his face in your hands and turning his lips toward you, to kiss him properly, at first out of spite, and then find out how many of your sentiments he really shared.

But you didn’t. You had that much self-control, at least.

You pecked his skin gently, and perhaps it was your imagination, but you thought he leaned into your touch.

“See you after the show,” he said, and he was so close to you that you could see freckles beneath his eyes, across the bridge of his nose.

He followed his bandmates into the dark.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

Roger

She’d always been with me.

It’d always been the two of us against the rest of the world, and I hoped it would always be.

Still, six years had taken their toll; her eyes were older than when I had last seen her, and by many years more than the time I’d spent apart from her.

Everything had changed.

And yet nothing had at all.

She’d always come to the gigs, no matter what band I happened to be playing in. And I’d always felt about her how I felt about her now.

She was like a ghost, standing in the wings every night, and I was possessed by her. By my love for her.

But who wouldn’t be?

I was as much a fool as anybody else.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

The after-show buzz was as strong as the pre-show buzz, and in watching Queen play again, you’d almost forgotten the world around you. You’d been enraptured by the way Freddie’s fingers danced across the piano keys, and how the voices of him, Brian, John, and Roger had melded together, as though they couldn’t have sung off-key had they tried.

Drunk on the lateness of the night, you’d swayed to the music in the wings, and wondered how life might have been different if you had been just another groupie, or if you and Roger had met later in life, under other circumstances.

It was extravagant and strange to be back in his company after so long, so much so that you almost questioned whether you were really there at all, or if you were simply lost in the throes some feverish dream. You wondered what it would be like in a few days, when you returned to the world of going to university and paying rent and cooking your own dinner, draped in the consequences of sleep-deprivation and stripped of the glory you felt in this moment, watching Roger’s hair catch the light like spun gold as he sang with half-lidded eyes. You wondered what you would tell him when he inevitably asked what you’d thought of the performance tonight, because you wouldn’t remember anything but him; you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

They came off of the stage, all glistening with sweat and brilliant smiles. The rush of performing was something felt even by those who simply watched, and so you could only imagine the adrenaline felt by those who actually performed.

“That was a great one!” Brian was saying animatedly.

Deacy grinned, handing off his bass to a roadie. “You didn’t hear me mess up then?”

Brian blinked at him. “You messed up?”

“Fantastic, darlings!” Freddie cried, hugging Roger to his side, to which Roger laughed. “Would anyone have a glass of water for me?”

“Right here,” you passed Freddie a glass, because it’d been filled and was waiting for him.

“Ah, thank you, dear.” He let go of Roger, took the glass from you, and swallowed the water in a single gulp.

“Hi Roger,” said a sultry voice from your right, and you turned to find a long-legged brunette winking at him.

“Hello Janey,” Roger responded, his tone velvety. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’d think I came to these shows for you,” said Janey, toying with the hem of her skirt.

You could have gagged.

What kind of name was Janey, anyway? What was wrong with good old Jane?

Why was Roger even interested in her? Anyone with two eyes could see that she’d turn out to be a double-crossing, press-whispering, inarticulate, brainless little—

“Y/N?” Brian was at your shoulder. “Alright?”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. Nothing.”

“If you say so,” said Deacy. He glanced between you and Roger, then turned away and walked toward the back door where a roadie was ushering both band and crew out.

You followed the others, trying not to think about Roger still talking with Janey behind you.

But then he called, “Y/N, wait up, will you?” and you heard him jog to catch you.

“Thought you were busy talking to Janey,” you drawled the name in the same tone he’d spoken it.

“Time to go, though, isn’t it?” he asked. He slung an arm around your shoulders as you walked, and leaned his head against yours. You didn’t object. “So... how were we?” he asked.

You hadn’t expected the question so soon, but here it was, and you hadn’t anything to say.

You tipped your head against his and told him the truth. “I’d say you were wonderful, but I’m honestly not quite sure. It felt like a dream.”

Roger laughed. “Hear that, Fred? She says it felt like a dream.”

Freddie smiled at you over his shoulder. “You’ve yet to wake up, it seems.”

“Losing sleep, are we?” Roger ruffled your hair with gentle fingers. “That’d have to be my fault, then.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you sleep on the floor,” you said, and he scoffed.

“Maybe I should, tonight.”

“Don’t,” you murmured.

He stopped walking. A frown creased his pretty mouth as he took your hands in his.

“Sweetheart? What’s the matter?”

His gaze was almost mournful.

You had to tell him how you felt sometime. Why not now? What had you left to lose?

You swallowed, glanced down at your feet.

“Roger, I’m—”

“ROGER!”

You both turned toward the sound, and before you could register what was happening, you were swarmed by a pack of teenage girls.

You swore under your breath, but Roger slipped into an easy smile, squeezed your hand before dropping it.

There were about fifteen girls, and they were all baying for his attention, for an autograph, for a single glance at him, and each was more aggressive than the next. You were elbowed in the ribs more than once.

“Hello, girls,” Roger purred. “Has anyone got a pen? Otherwise signing things might be hard.” He gave a chuckle and practically every one of them swooned.

You didn’t blame them.

As they each fumbled to be the first to hand him a pen, Roger’s fingers encircled your wrist.

His lips brushed your ear as he murmured, “Go back to the hotel with the others before the press get here too. I’ll see you later.”

Your skin prickled at his touch, but you managed to nod. You slipped away from the crowd before it could swallow you anymore wholly than it already had.

Back at the hotel, you sat around in Freddie’s hotel suite as he, Brian, John, and a handful of roadies drank and played the day’s final game of Death Scrabble to unwind from the show.

You kept glancing at the clock, but eventually, at a quarter to one, when Roger still had not made a reappearance, you said goodnight to Freddie, Deacy, and Brian, and headed to your— Roger’s— hotel room.

It hadn’t even occurred to you to book a second room, and now the lobby was closed for the night, so you opened Roger’s suitcase, pulled on the t-shirt he had lent you the previous night, and crawled under the covers to the sound of rain lashing against the window.

Despite the late hour, you couldn’t sleep.

Where was Roger? What was taking him so long?

Probably off with some groupie, your mind offered unhelpfully.

But then you heard the door unlock, and light spilled briefly into the room before the door was shut once more.

You must have been closer to unconsciousness than you’d thought, because your eyes felt heavy with sleep when you opened them to find Roger silhouetted in the darkness.

Now that he was actually here, you didn’t feel up to talking to him. You opted to pretend that you were already asleep.

Still, you didn’t push him away as you felt his arms settle around you, his lips ghost the skin of your neck. You shifted closer, because this was Roger. He was the closest you’d ever get to feeling you were home again, back in the sun-saturated summers of your childhood where the sky was wide and forever, and the future was unwritten.

And where you didn’t have to miss him when he was gone.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

Again, you awoke to an empty bed.

But this time, his suitcase wasn’t even there. Just a folded set of clothes remained, your name written on a note in Roger’s elegant scroll.

You crumpled up the note and dressed in a huff.

Downstairs, you found Freddie and Roger having coffee in the hotel dining room.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Freddie said pleasantly.

“Morning, Freddie.”

Roger smiled and got up from his chair, walking toward you as though to embrace you. As though he had any right. “Good morning, sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me that when you don’t mean it,” you ducked out of his grasp, made for the coffee pot on the table on the opposite side of the room.

Roger’s brow furrowed as he followed you. “What makes you think I don’t mean it?”

The coffee pot was empty. Just what you needed right now.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’d call any random girl who asked for your autograph the same thing without a second thought.”

You saw Freddie’s eyes widen— you’d spoken loud enough for the whole world to hear— and he sipped his coffee, trying to give the impression of being oblivious to your conversation with Roger. He wasn’t at all convincing.

“I’ve never called any one of them sweetheart,” Roger said, his voice surprisingly level in response to your anger. In your peripheral vision, Freddie glanced up from his coffee as though to gauge your reaction.

You reached for the teapot, and found that that was empty as well. Your frustration brimmed and flooded into your words.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “Love, darling, dear, babe, sweetheart—”

“No,” said Roger firmly. He touched your hand, his fingers skimming your pulse. “Never sweetheart. That’s yours.”

Your anger was momentarily stilled by the look in his eyes, the earnesty he exuded.

Just yesterday, on the bus, between rounds of Scrabble, you and Roger had talked and laughed about the old days, as Roger called it, recalling afternoons by the river, nights on the hill, mornings traipsing home through empty streets before the rest of the world had awoken.

They felt like another life, those memories, sometimes so much that you wondered whether you’d lived them at all.

You needed Roger to ground you.

But you couldn’t figure him out.

Spending the nights with his arms wrapped around you, leaving wordlessly in the morning. Kissing your cheek before shows, flirting with groupies afterward. None of it made any sense.

“Let go of me,” you said quietly, because Brian and John had entered the room and were openly staring at your exchange with Roger. You saw Freddie trying to make them pretend like nothing was happening, but he only ended up confusing them more, to the point where Brian asked what in the world was going on, and Freddie fell back in his chair exasperatedly.

Roger let go of you.

You brushed yourself off as though you’d taken a fall.

You had, in a way. But that hadn’t been now. You’d fallen ages ago. For someone you couldn’t have.

And yet, everything about him possessed you.

You felt dizzy. You needed to get out of this room.

“I’ll be on the bus.”

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

“Home,” Deacy had said happily as the bus entered the outskirts of London. The others had nodded in agreement.

Even Roger.

No, you fought the urge to shout, Cornwall is your home. Don’t you remember?

Home had never felt so far away.

Freddie was overly nice to you, as though he sensed you wilting beneath the weight of your inner turmoil. He even went as far as to offer to take you shopping, right before soundcheck.

But Queen were performing at the Rainbow tonight, and as much as you would’ve liked to go shopping with someone as glamorous as Freddie, it would’ve been selfish to say yes and risk him running late to— or god forbid, missing— soundcheck.

You paced around and about the stage as lighting and sound gear were strung up for the show, while Freddie and John bickered with Brian about some song or another. Roger paid them no attention, having dropped out of the conversation at least ten minutes ago, and was instead tapping and twirling his drumsticks idly, across the toms, the cymbals, through the air.

You stopped pacing to watch him, because there was something otherworldly in the way he moved, fluidly but with tact, becoming a part of the rhythm he played.

His eyes were closed, as they often were when he sang, and you could vaguely hear him humming to himself as he tested out a beat.

You folded your arms where you stood, felt a soft smile touch your lips.

Then Roger caught you looking at him.

He winked.

You glanced down, but the smile didn’t fade from your face.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

By that evening, you weren’t sure that you could stand to be in Roger’s company for very much longer.

John and Brian were tuning their guitars while Roger sat around, flicking through Polaroids and trying to decide what to wear. You sat beside him, taking the Polaroids he tossed aside, making him laugh by poking fun at the various facial expressions he wore in each of the pictures, and occasionally handing him back a Polaroid in which you liked the outfit and thought he should reconsider wearing it.

His hair fell over his shoulders in messy waves, and he was biting his lower lip as he went through the pictures. He sat so close that you could see every detail of his face, every freckle and each of the tiny little creases at the corners of his eyes. In reaching for a dropped Polaroid, his fingertips trailed your hip, and he murmured an apology that you barely heard because you were too focused on remembering to breathe.

And presently, dressing room air seemed thicker than the layer of eyeliner presently being applied to Freddie’s eyelids.

“Darling,” Freddie said to Roger as the makeup artist finished her work, “you’re being positively irresponsible. There’s barely ten minutes until showtime. Have you decided what to wear?”

Roger squinted down at two Polaroids he’d narrowed his outfit selection down to. He chose a chocolate from the box that Freddie was passing around, handing the assortment to you without a second thought.

“I mean,” Freddie continued, taking the box from you once you’d finished, sticking two chocolates in his mouth at once, “we’ve all coordinated our outfits, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find something to match.”

Roger held one Polaroid up to the light. But you shook your head.

“No,” you said, curling your fingers lightly around his wrist. “That one.”

“This one?” he asked.

“Mm-hm. Very pretty on you.”

It was. The top was black velvet, but in no world was it plain, because it sparkled with an outrageous dash of gold, and it was paired with similar velvet trousers dotted with little gemstones, like stars.

Roger turned his gaze to you. “You think I’m pretty?” he said softly.

Shivers glanced off of your sides as you met his eyes. “Roger, I’d have to be blind not to.”

And even then, you’d have to lose your hearing as well, because his voice lilted beautifully, like the quiet rush of the ocean in the nighttime.

His lips parted as though he intended to say something, but then he said nothing, only turned his hand, so that his palm settled against yours, and your fingers intertwined with his.

“Roger!” Brian cried. “For god’s sake, get dressed. We’ve got five fucking minutes!”

Roger glared at Brian, but Deacy proceeded to haul him to his feet.

“For once,” said John with a laboured sigh, “I agree. Get dressed.”

“Alright alright, I’ll get dressed,” Roger said, but there was no bite to the supposedly irritated remark. He got up from the sofa the two of you were sharing, letting his fingertips trail along the underside of your wrist before he left you where you were sitting.

Your eyes followed him as he disappeared through the door to the next room.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

Queen performed spectacularly, as usual, the fullness of the sound reverberating through the massive speakers positioned on the stage. Out of the three nights you’d seen Queen so far, this was by far their best performance.

And if you hadn’t known Roger so well, you might not have known that anything was wrong.

Queen were as elegant and dramatic as ever, but the camera crew was invasive, the type to sacrifice anything for a perfectly-angled shot, even if they risked disturbing the performers as they did.

But saying they were disruptive was probably an understatement.

They were at Freddie’s side constantly, leaning over Roger’s drums and getting in Brian’s face, blocking Deacy from the audience.

Freddie was talkative this night, trying to keep in touch with the audience by calling out to them and having a mostly one-way conversation, punctuated by cheers and shouts. John hovered close by Freddie, because it appeared that the camera crew were less inclined to obstruct two people at once.

But the interaction was forced. Heat rose to your face in angry waves as you watched the spectacle go on.

Roger’s jaw tightened each time the camera crew took a step closer than the last, and he was hitting his drums more forcefully as the show went on.

And then, Brian snapped a string.

There was a general mass of swearing and exclamations from the crew as Brian ran for the wings, and a second guitar exchanged several hands before reaching him.

Brian hurried back onstage, just as Roger shot a particularly intense glare at a cameraman.

“What’s the matter now?” a roadie was saying to your left.

“Drums are out of tune,” a second roadie winced.

Toward the end of the concert, it was absolute havoc.

Roger was furious. That much was obvious.

You saw him swear violently in the direction away from the microphone. He’d just missed a cue, a cameraman getting between him and Freddie when Freddie had glanced back at him in signal.

“This is a shitshow,” Brian’s guitar tech muttered, pressing a hand over his mouth as though he felt physically ill. He looked a bit pale, to be quite truthful.

“They still sound great,” you assured him, because they did. Even slightly out of tune, Queen were still miles better than any band you’d ever heard before.

But your voice was tight, words spoken through gritted teeth. How was this allowed to happen? The camera crew were completely out of line.

The tech laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “Please tell them that, when they come off stage and start shouting their heads off.”

“You think they will?”

“Judging by the look on Roger’s face, maybe.”

He really did look rather angry, but then you would’ve been too. Presently, just watching the camera crew, you were infuriated. Really, they had a nerve, the way they were carrying on.

A cacophonous crash echoed through the concert hall, and you blinked against the intensity of the stage lights to find Roger throwing a cymbal off the drum risers, kicking in another drum, Brian dashing out of the way and Freddie throwing a protective arm over Deacy when part of the kit sailed toward him.

“What the hell’s got into him?!” someone cried as the lot of you looked on in horror.

“Pullin’ a Keith Moon, ‘e is.”

“What?”

“Drummer for The Who. Don’t you listen to anything other than Led Zeppelin, James?”

The lights were dimmed and Freddie came storming off.

“I want that bloody camera crew out of here, now!” he cried, his voice strained.

“Oye, careful Fred, don’t lose your voice. You’ve still got an encore to go.”

“Damn the encore,” said Brian. “I can’t hear myself play with those tossers going about, and I can usually hear myself play even when Freddie’s shouting in my ear.”

Deacy appeared next. “Roger!” he exclaimed, rather viciously. “You’ll kill me one of these days, and by god, no one’ll thank you for that.” He turned to his tech, “Christ but I nearly lost the lead there. One of those ruddy cameramen tripped over it!”

Roger arrived last, gripping his drumsticks tightly, breathing hard, wisps of his light hair curling over his bright eyes and his flushed cheeks.

He scanned the wings as though looking for something, stopping when he saw you.

“Roger,” you said, “what the hell was that?”

His drumsticks clattered to the ground as he let go of them.

You frowned, but then Roger strode toward you.

“I didn’t mean you,” you backtracked, “I mean the camera crew. Completely unprofessional and just so disruptive and—”

Suddenly, he had his arms around you, and he was kissing you like you were air and he couldn’t breathe.

You didn’t care if you breathed.

You parted your lips against his, and your fingers tangled in his hair the way you’d always done when you were younger, when he was weary or feeling down, only this time you were pulling him closer, closer, breathlessly drinking in the years you’d missed him for, as though you could make up for time by memorising the way he touched you now, fingertips ghosting your sides and trailing shivers down your sides though his hands were warm.

He pulled away but lingered with his forehead against yours, heat prickling from his skin and seeping into your own.

“What—” you stammered, hardly daring to think of how the others around you might have been staring, “what was that for?”

Roger’s breathing was still laboured and rough, but he held you gently, his grip as soft as his mouth had been.

He brushed his nose against yours, his eyelashes fluttering, and you might have sunken to the floor had his arms not been around you; he’d kissed you quite senseless.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “Everything. Just needed you.”

“Me?” you whispered, unable to say anything more.

“You, sweetheart.”

Warmth spread through your chest, butterflies beating restless wings in your stomach.

You thought to say something, but you couldn’t think of any words at all, and a smile had broken across your face.

Roger’s eyes flicked to yours, and your smile broadened.

He laughed softly, his hand coming up to caress your cheek affectionately.

“Roger,” Freddie interjected mildly, “we’ve still got a bit of show to do.”

Roger glanced over at Freddie, who, to his credit, looked apologetic.

“Right,” said Roger, and you found Brian and Deacy grinning at you. “Encore, then. Lead the way, Fred.”

Freddie sidled past you with a wink, and John and Brian followed after.

Roger was once again the last to leave, but you thought he had a pretty reasonable excuse, just this once.

Tenderly, he kissed the corner of your mouth, cupping your face in his hands as your eyes slid shut and you pressed closer to him.

“Ah,” he hummed against your lips, “afterwards. You’ll get me all flustered, like this.”

You laughed. “Me, make you flustered? My, I feel powerful.”

“You are,” he said.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

The night was old, but the morning was young, for the previous day had just slipped into the next while the team packed up around you and you sat on the rim of the stage, your legs over the edge as Roger lay with his head in your lap.

He had a hand over his eyes, and his countenance was exhausted, but still you combed the hair from his face, trying to ease the tiredness from his being with the delicateness of your touch.

He’d been quiet for a while, but now he wound his fingers around yours, bringing your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles.

He’d kissed you many times in the past hour— on your lips, below your eyes, along your jaw, on your nose, on your forehead, across your fingers— but still, something like sparks rushed through you each time.

He reached up to touch your cheek, and you leaned into his palm as he ran his thumb across your skin. His gaze was sleepy-eyed but irrevocably pure, such that you might have described it as adoration, and you gazed back at him with equal temperament, enamoured by the feeling of his eyes on yours.

“I never want to go six years without seeing you again,” he said.

A sadness pierced your heart from the inside, a betrayal of logical thought from within your own mind.

“How can we be sure that doesn’t happen?” you asked quietly, knowing full well how his path diverged from yours.

Roger sat up slowly, taking your face in his hands.

You stared into those big blue eyes, and hoped he had the answers that you did not. Six years was too long, and nor were you willing to risk such a separation again.

“I don’t know, my love,” he whispered. “But we’ll figure it out together. We’ve always done, haven’t we?”

It was true. You’d always been together, and you’d made do with less hope on your side than this, when money was tight or when school was rough or when thoughts about it all kept you sleepless on endless-seeming summer nights.

So you believed him, and you believed yourself when you told him,

“We always will.”

He held you tightly and you lay your head on his shoulder with a placid sigh.

Somewhere, Freddie was laughing at a joke made by John, and the quiet strums of Brian’s acoustic guitar reached your ears.

There was a ceiling and a roof above you, but here, in this moment, in Roger’s arms, the sky was wide and forever. The future was unwritten.

And you were home.

⋆⋅✦⋅⋆

#tina's writing #possessed by love event #ylmp event #ple #queen #event #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #fic

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ficklefics · 5 years ago

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Disobedience - Dhawan!Master x Reader ~smut~

The Master has rules. Rules you shouldn't risk breaking. Or maybe you should.

MASTERLIST

Requested by anonymous with the scene prompt Heavy spanking

(a/n: first time writing smut, let me know what you think! (I’ll get better, I promise!))

Warnings: Smut, BDSM, spanking, hair pulling, honorifics, praise kink

You fucked up. You really fucked up.

You could hear the Master yelling at you in your mind as you sprinted down corridors away from the beastly aliens that were chasing you. Telling you how stupid you were, how reckless.

It was his fault really.

The two of you had been exploring the seemingly abandoned space station when they had appeared – the reason it was abandoned. Ravenous, bloodthirsty creatures so massive that their backs scraped the ceilings as their claws dragged along the floor, acidic saliva spilling past razor-sharp teeth. The Master didn’t recognise what they were which made them exponentially more dangerous. They were stalking you through the halls, tracking your scent, your fear. Their only weakness – they were stupid. At least that’s how the Master put it.

So there you were, pressed against each other inside a far too small cupboard while they prowled only metres away. They knew you were nearby but couldn’t figure out where. Usually, you would have enjoyed being so close to him. Your chests pressed against each other, breath mingling in the air. You could practically hear the drumming of your single heartbeat against his two. But the threat of imminent death was a bit of a turn-off. “Please tell me you’ve got a plan,” You whispered, your voice barely audible. “I will.” He didn’t sound certain. And you could only wait so long before they found you. “I’ve got an idea.” He frowned down at you. “Do you trust me?” “Yes,” He spoke begrudgingly, “But what -” “Meet you at the TARDIS.” He barely got a word out before you were throwing the cupboard doors open and running out, past the creatures who you yelled at before darting down a random corridor. You hoped that you had managed to get them all on your tail and that the Master was making his way to the TARDIS. If he wasn’t, you were doomed.

You heard doors slamming in the distance and veered your path towards them, glancing back only to see that they were right on your heels. You pushed harder, faster, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

There it was. The TARDIS. At the end of the corridor you had first arrived in, blending into its surroundings as a service elevator with an out of order sign on the front. “Master!” You yelled, praying that he was there and that he would hear you. The door swung open and you saw him standing there, hand outstretched. The final metres seemed to stretch into an unending distance, time slowing as you tried to reach him. Finally, you did, his hand pulling you inside and slamming the door behind you. The door shook as the creatures rammed against it; you could hear them howling. Now that the threat was gone you stumbled on your feet, unsteady. “Go sit down,” He growled. “What-?” “Sit down, now.” You rolled your eyes but did as he said. There was no point arguing with him when he got into a mood like this. The console room was traditionally round, the console itself raised onto a platform, and benches were pushed against the rails. You sat in one of those and leaned your elbows on your knees, watching him pace and huff his way through taking off. When the sounds of dematerialisation at quieted, leaving only a gentle hum, he leant against the console and glared at the central pillar. An awkward silence filled the room which seemed to last for hours. You kept going to speak, even opening your mouth and inhaling to start, but you couldn’t figure out how to break the tension. He was angry, angrier than he had ever been. And you couldn’t quite figure out why.

Finally, he spoke. “What was the first thing I told you when I invited you to join me?” “I don’t -” “What was it?” “You told me not to put my life at risk, because you wouldn’t come to save me.” But he had already proven himself wrong countless times already. You didn’t see how this was different. “You never listen, do you?” He sighed, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. “You could have gotten killed.” “We both would have died if we had stayed there.” You stood up and stormed over to his side. “I saved us.” “You disobeyed me.” “I didn’t know there were rules.” For every glare and snarl he sent your way you had something to bite back with. You wouldn’t let him talk down to you. You refused. “Well, there are!” He yelled. The sudden shout made you flinch back, almost afraid of him. He inhaled deeply, trying and failing to calm down. “There are rules, (Y/N), and you will follow them. Or else.” “Or else what?” You challenged, chin in the air defiantly. “You don’t want to know.” He looked away from you in an attempt to quell his anger. “And what if I do?” You stepped closer, lowering your voice. You were tempting fate, you knew that, practically begging for whatever twisted consequences were running through his mind. But you didn’t care. “Don’t test me.” He pushed away from the console and walked around it, away from you and towards the door that leads to the endless corridors of the TARDIS. You huffed, deflated, almost disappointed that he hadn’t followed through. “Can you at least tell me what the rules are?” You called after him, not expecting an answer. He glanced over his shoulder at you, glare still fully fixed in his eyes. “Rule number one: when I tell you to do something, or not to do something, you listen.” And with that he turned and left, leaving you to ponder what he’d said.

You were bored stiff. The Master and you had been avoiding each other since your fight, and while the TARDIS may have whatever you could desire, it couldn’t solve your problem. His words kept repeating in your ears, and other things as well. The way his voice sent a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, the heat that you had only started to recognise as being caused by him.

It was time to put his promises to the test.

You found him in the library. It was lit dimly by a small lamp that sat on the corner of the desk which his feet were propped up on. A book written in a language you didn’t understand was in his hands. You realised you didn’t actually have much of a plan – maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But that ache reminded you of what you wanted, and what you were at least going to try to get. Sure, he might kill you; but it was worth the risk.

Usually, you would have called to him, announced your presence, but not today. No. Today you strolled quietly past the towering shelves to perch by him on the desk, unable to disguise the slight smirk on your face. “What do you want?” He growled, immediately tensing. He didn’t look at you. “Nothing.” You shrugged before reaching for the switch dangling from the light and turning it off. Now the only light in the room came from the doorway. The Master’s face was barely visible, cloaked in shadows, but he looked furious. Maybe you had read it wrong. Maybe… “Turn it back on, (Y/N).” Now or never. Last chance. You stretched your hand back out, playing with the switch but not turning it on. Instead, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear:

“No.”

“That’s it.” He growled, standing, the book discarded, and his now free hand wrapping in your hair, close to your scalp. “You want to push me? Fine.” He dragged you from the room as you yelped and struggled, clutching his hand with both your own. You stumbled over the feet as he strode through the corridors, leading you who knows where. Some kind of torture chamber? The idea shouldn’t thrill you so much.

He releases you only to throw you through a wooden door onto plush carpet. You hear it shut behind you, a lock clicking. Oh shit. You pushed yourself onto your feet to find yourself in a bedroom. Ordinary enough. A four-poster bed pushed against the wall with red sheets. You had never thought about the Master having a bedroom. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe the TARDIS had made this on his whim. “You want to know what happens when you break my rules?” You spun around to face him. He was breathing heavily, practically panting, looking you up and down. “You might not like the answer.” That was it. The final warning. Your way out. After this, there would be no going back. “Show me.” Show. Not tell. You both knew what was coming. Something dark flickered behind his eyes, something you recognised, something that stirred inside you as your imagination began to run free. You were daring him, daring him to take the bait, just like he was daring you. In two steps his hand was gripping your wrist and he was forcing you towards the bed. His bed. He stopped you and stood in front of you. “Now, you are going to listen very carefully.” You nodded, unable to stop the tremor in your hands from the anticipation. “Do everything I say, when I say it. I know that’s difficult for you.” It was a joke, but you weren’t meant to laugh. Another nod. “Use your words, darling.” “Okay.” “‘Okay’, what?” “Okay… Master.” The word sent a shiver through you, but he almost seemed to shudder when he heard you use his name, his title. “Turn around.” You did so, goosebumps rising at the feeling of his breath against your neck as he pulled your hair out of the way. Rough hands ran down your body and you had to resist the instinct to jump away. He wouldn’t appreciate that. You could practically feel his eyes examining you. Taking in every inch of your body, every flaw and imperfection, every curve, every joint, every scar and every freckle. You felt naked in front of him. “Now, what kind of punishment do you think you deserve?” His voice in your ear was low. It made your eyes flutter shut. “I… I don’t… I don’t know.” Now that the question was laid before you, you couldn’t name what you wanted him to do to you. There were too many ideas, too many images, all flying through your mind. “I suppose that means it’s up to me then.” You nodded, then remembered his words from before. “Yes, Master.” He circled you, like a shark; when your eyes linked for a brief second the hunger in his made your skin tingle. Once he was done he rolled up his sleeves and sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” You stepped to stand in front of him, uncertain, shaky. “Get those off.” He nodded to your jeans and your hands immediately flew to the button, fingers struggling to move fast enough. You shoved them onto the ground and kicked them away, a flush rising to your cheeks as you realised you were almost completely exposed in front of the Master. “You know what to do.” The image was clear in your mind. Maybe he put it there. So you did as you were told and bent yourself over his lap, steadying yourself with your forearms. It was embarrassing, humiliating – or at least it should have been. Instead, it sent a rush of heat straight to your core. You could feel how hard he was already, his bulge pressing against your stomach, and you had to contain your slight gasp. So you weren’t delusional. You hadn’t made up the tension between you for your own entertainment. When you felt his hand rubbing your ass you let out a moan, and he chuckled darkly. “Already so excited and I haven’t even done anything.” “Says you.” You rolled your hips against his and he groaned at the friction, making you grin. Your smugness is short-lived though as he grabs you by your hair again and pulls you up, making your back arch, to whisper in your ear. “Behave yourself.” He released you, letting you fall back down. “Now, you’re going to count each and every one of these. Okay?” “Okay.” A crack sounds through the room as his hand smacks against your ass, making you yelp. “Okay, what?” “Okay, Master.” “Good girl.” The praise sent a shudder through you, and you realised you would do anything to hear those words again. “Now, count.” The initial stinging was already starting to fade, but it was only the start. The anticipation set every nerve in your body on fire. This time the sound was duller, the pain less sharp, but the ache immediately set in. “One.” Another. Sharp, biting, sending spikes of pain through you. You gasped at the strange mix of pain and pleasure. “Two.” Again. You clung to the sheets below you. “Three.” “Four.” “Five.”

By the time you reached twenty your ass was raw and shaking. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes but you refused to cry. You had asked for this. This was your choice. And the pain still didn’t outweigh the arousal that was constantly building. The Master rubbed your tender cheeks and laughed at the way your body instinctively tried to move away from him. “I did warn you,” He tuts. You can hear the smirk in his voice. His hand drifted lower, thumb tracing light circles, before he dragged a finger down your pants, feeling how soaked they were already. Your heart was racing. “Really? Just from that? I haven’t even touched you yet.” Yet. The words were shameful, making you blush from embarrassment, but they didn’t change anything. Without warning, he pulled your pants to the side and his fingers dived into your wetness. You couldn’t contain your moans and gasps as he started to circle your clit furiously. There was no easing into this. Nothing gentle about the way he touched you, nothing sweet or caring. He wanted to make you suffer. And that very thought just turned you on more. When he went deeper you whimpered, gasping at the sensation of his fingers inside you, filling you, curling inside you. They thrust in and out rapidly, building up the tension in your lower stomach, pulling you towards the edge, until he pulled out, making you whine pitifully. He forced you to your feet, which you stood on shakily, chest heaving. “Open.” Your jaw dropped obediently and his fingers were on your tongue in an instant. You began to suck on them, tongue swirling, tasting yourself. His eyes were fixed on your face, dark, intense, watching and analysing your every move. So you closed yours, focusing on the sensation in your mouth. All too soon he pulled his hand away and grabbed your jaw. Your eyes snapped open and fixed on his. “Now,” He was breathing heavily, his own anticipation and arousal almost too much to bear, “Show me what else you’re good for.” You were on your knees before he had finished his sentence, pulling at his trousers. He chuckled at your eagerness and wove a hand into your hair. Your hands hesitated as you reached for his underwear, eyes flicking up to meet his before you pulled them down.

Fuck.

The sight of him hard in front of you sent a rush of heat through you. You instinctively wrapped a hand around the base of the shaft, pumping it and revelling in the slight groan that escaped his lips, before you inhaled shakily and wrapped your mouth around his head. You began to move your head and hand together, feeling him twitch under you as you worked to take as much of him into your mouth as possible. As you felt him hit the back of your throat, your gag reflex telling you to move back and gasp for air, his hands wrapped tighter around the back of your head and held you in place. You pushed at his thigh, struggling as the lack of oxygen began to dull your mind, filling it with cotton wool. Tears began to fall. Finally, he pulled you away, strings of drool hanging between your mouth and his dick as you coughed and wiped at your chin. “I’m almost impressed.” He pulled you back to your feet and captured your mouth in a biting kiss, all tongues and teeth and anger and heat. You almost didn’t notice him manoeuvre you so your back was to the bed. When he pushed you down you landed on your back with a bounce, scrambling so your head was resting on the plush pillows. “Strip.” Your top was discarded first, thrown to the floor with your jeans, and then your bra. You shivered at the feeling of cool air against your breasts, and at the way the Master stared at them, with a dark hunger. He straddled you, his own waistcoat and shirt discarded so he was fully naked, and dropped his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and biting while he pinched and twisted the other with his hand. You yelped and moaned at the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain, hands threading through his dark hair and holding him close to you. You felt his length bump against your leg, impossibly hard. When he rose his chest was heaving as he hovered over you. Fingers wrapped around the waistband of your pants and they were torn from you, the ragged shreds discarded. The Master balanced on one arm as he knelt between your spread legs, eyes fixed on your pussy, exposed and vulnerable. With his free hand, he began to rub his cock against your folds, making you shudder. “Please…” You couldn’t contain the plead. “Please what?” He was enjoying this. Enjoying your vulnerability, all for him and only him. He dipped in further, brushing against your entrance and then your clit but not giving you anything else. He wanted you to use your words. “Please, please just fuck me, please, I’m desperate.” You begged him, the words streaming from your mouth in one whining gasp. “Please what?” He hissed, leaning down so there was barely an inch between your faces. You stared deep into his eyes and spoke. “Please, Master.” The moment the words left your lips he pressed into you in one swift movement. In an instant, you were impossibly filled. He groaned into your ear as he began to thrust, slowly at first but speeding up quickly. With every movement, tiny gasps and whines escaped your lips. Your hand lifted to cover your mouth, embarrassed, but it rested there only a second before he grabbed both your wrists and held them above your head. You tried to bite at your lip, anything to contain the sounds, but it only made him thrust harder and faster. “I want to hear every sound you make for me. They’re mine. You’re mine.” He growled. The possessiveness just turned you on even more, if that was even possible. The room filled with your moans of pleasure as the tension coiled inside you grew tighter and tighter. You were getting close. You could feel it. And so could he. Suddenly his free hand was wrapped around your throat, squeezing just tight enough that your brain started to go fuzzy, somehow intensifying everything else you were feeling. And it pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed and shook, mouth agape in a silent scream of pleasure as he kept going through your orgasm. As you crashed back down your body was limp, pliable under him. His hand released from around your throat and he attacked the now exposed skin with his lips, sucking and biting and pulling more moans from you. His thrusts started to grow faster and sloppier. You laced a hand through his hair, tugging at it and pulling his lips to yours, the only dominance you could manage over him. He pulled away as he came, driving deep inside you as he filled you up, swearing under his breath. You were both gasping for air and he collapsed on top of you, naked bodies colliding. You whined in disappointment at the empty feeling as he pulled out of you. Curling into his side, he started to play with your hair absent-mindedly. The gesture made you grin – for all his roughness and aggression he was affectionate really. “You know,” You murmured under your voice, and you felt him look down at you, “If that’s what disobeying you ends up in,” Looking up, you smiled at him and the soft look in his eyes, “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” The hand in your hair tightened to the point of pain, making you wince and gasp. Still a turn on. “I wouldn’t risk it, love.”

Oh, you definitely would.

MASTERLIST

#dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #dhawan!master smut #doctor who x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who smut

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silver-wield · 4 years ago

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FF7R: Cloud’s hyper vigilance

Since this has come up a few times in the last couple of days I figured I'd stick it all in one place so everyone can see just how differently Cloud behaved pre and post sim cut scene.

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be long.

Also, this is one person’s interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that’s cool and we’ll agree to disagree.

You’re also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I’m grabbing them from Youtube and it’s frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want. Idk why they’re blurry or different sizes this time, so sorry about that and just bear with me.

Please check my master post to see if I've already covered your question, thanx

Let's mosey!

Before Cloud sees the love of his life run through by Sephiroth, he is attentive towards her, which we already knew, but he wasn't overly attentive. He looked to her to make sure she was ok, but he trusted that she'd be ok without him watching her every move.

Cloud turns his head only. Before that he was facing forward and not turned towards Tifa. He looks at her when they're talking, but doesn't move his entire body. Tbf, this is the part where Tifa fell 30+ft and said she thought she'd die for sure, which likely put Cloud in a more attentive state towards her anyway, but after that came the stairs or elevator, so he probably calmed down again. There's no threats between that moment and the sim, so he shouldn't feel the need to become overprotective towards Tifa. Seeing threats everywhere when there aren't any is a very bad sign, so it's a good thing Cloud didn't change after that first event.

Tifa gets stabbed and Cloud's reaction is heartbreaking. He doesn't know it's not real at this point. This is genuine shock and grief. He's failed her. There's no undoing this. The look on his face as he tries to locate Sephiroth is murderous. It morphs into shock when he sees Barret dead, too. He's let them both down.

This is during the talk with Hart before they leave the sim. Cloud was literally just facing Tifa talking to her. He knows she's there. He has no reason to check on her again, other than he's worried what'll happen if he can't see her.

Not even in the office yet. They're in the archive and Tifa's just moved forward to look around and Cloud has turned so they're lined up. He's obviously still shaken by the sim and feels the need to keep her within reach in case she needs saving.

In the office and Cloud again half turns so that he is more in line with Tifa's position. Why does Cloud feel threatened during this point? Because he doesn't know Domino and it could be a trap. Common sense he wants to keep an eye on the person he wants to keep alive.

Things only escalate from this point. The degree by which Cloud turns depends on how stressed/worried he is at that point. He doesn't know Hart or Domino, but he's less threatened than in later locations, so doesn't feel as much pressure to keep Tifa within arm's reach, which explains why the degree he turns by is less than other times.

During the atrium section, Cloud seems to relax a little. The threat reduces for him and he begins to lower his hyper vigilance towards Tifa. The sim event seems like he was overreacting maybe and he doesn't have to keep as close an eye on her. It was all just messing with his head and he needs to focus. Soldier Cloud gets him back on mission.

But that's when he suffers a different kind of stressful event that pushes him to a breaking point and he cries.

Cloud's stress levels begin rising again with the introduction of Hojo to the mix. He withdraws into himself, but even then he keeps some of his focus on Tifa's position. We can see here he is turned towards her, which accomplishes two goals. He's made himself a smaller target for Hojo, but also he can leap towards Tifa more easily if something happens.

It's during this event that Cloud has given up his position as leader. Barret takes control of the dialogue and later during the drum he gives Cloud orders, which are followed without argument. Cloud is doing the bare minimum needed to interact with people. He's focused on his goals. Protect Tifa. Save Aerith. Anything else is getting ignored.

Aerith's room after Cloud's collapse and you can see he's lined up with Tifa again, while talking to Aerith. It's even more obvious in the close up before this, but since Tifa wasn't visible I chose the longer shot because Cloud doesn't move from that shot to this and I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone trying to say I'm imagining things. I'm not.

This is even more obvious. Cloud is standing behind Tifa, lined up with her. On purpose. He moved to this position before we got control of him back. He's just gone through a very stressful event with the Jenova thing and he's not in a good head space in general. Focusing on Tifa may well be a comfort thing for him as well. If he focuses on her then he doesn't have to think about himself.

After reuniting with the girls and checking in with them, Cloud reorients his body to Tifa's position. The drum is one massive threat and Cloud's living through his nightmares with the medical room and the experiments. The last thing he wants is for something to happen to Tifa under his nose.

Right after the above screen we see he's once again lined up with her position before control comes back to us.

Lined up with Tifa's position again. I really don't have much else to say about this. It's all highlighting Cloud's anxiety after seeing her die in front of him. If he keeps her in line with himself then he can save her.

And again, Cloud turns to where Tifa is. There's other people around, but he's only speaking to her. Only looking at her. She is his priority at this point. The others are along for the ride.

Now, I'm sure someone will try and point out that she's the one driving the truck, but that doesn't explain why he's only talking to her and doesn't include the others. He was facing front until a moment before he spoke. He could've raised his voice to include everyone in a general “let's go” way, but he chose to turn to Tifa and speak to her exclusively.

And turns to her again. This is actually the third time he turns to check on her position, but the times before that were glances back because the threat was in front of them (Sephiroth). He didn't need to turn and check on her because he was already in the ideal position to save her.

After the arbiter battle, when they're in that between place which has something to do with CC with its sky and water imagery, we see Tifa walk into Cloud's peripheral vision and him turn towards her to check she's ok. He only turns away when he asks Aerith a question.

Last scene of the game and even though Cloud is talking to the others and his head is turned towards them, his body is lined up exactly with Tifa's position.

In conclusion.

I know some of yall are gonna be awww he loves her so much he can't bear to let her out of his sight. Yeah, ok, you're right, but at the same time, Cloud is very anxious. He's become that worried about Tifa's safety that he can't help but keep her in view at all times. The only time he's not focused on her is when there's an actual threat he needs to deal with because then he knows where the problem is and how to take care of it. It's during those moments between threats that he's become hyper vigilant towards her, even more than he was before he thought she died.

Before the sim, he was attentive, but trusted she could deal with most problems. He figured either she could handle it or he'd get there in time.

After the sim, he still trusts her, but he doesn't trust himself to keep her safe, which is why he's become even more watchful towards her.

I’m guessing this is gonna go towards his eroding sense of identity through the rest of the game until he shatters and we get the lifestream event where Tifa puts him back together again.

#final fantasy 7 remake spoilers #final fantasy 7 remake analysis #character analysis #Cloud strife #hyper vigilance #cloti

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ms-rampage · 4 years ago

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Eden's Gate: Left Behind Chapter 1 - Welcome to Hope County

A new series!!!. Take place 2 years before the events of Kidnapped.

I created "Hope County University" for this series, and a few other locations that aren't in the game. Because its all headcanon shit.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.9k

John Seed slightly out of character. (That's what happens when you encounter a Winchester 😂😂)

*********************************

Hope County, Montana, February 2018

*Arizona by Hey Monday plays on the radio*

A black 1970 Monte Carlo with a small trailer attached to it drives down the road with an Arizona license plate on it "ARIZONA E34R90D".

19 year old Kate Winchester, who just moved out of her aunt and uncle's house drove 7 hours from Jackson, Wyoming to Hope County, Montana. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel to song.

Starting her new life, leaving the hunter life behind her, she applied and got accepted at Hope County University.

Hoping to get her Master of Science degree in Psychology, and then move on to get her Doctorate Degree.

Luckily her aunt and uncle were able to cover her tuition for the whole year. She even told them that she was willing to pay her own rent, and which surprisingly is only $750 a month. Hell her rent is cheaper here, than Arizona and Wyoming put together, but of course they're willing to pay for it, even though she refused, so she saves some money there.

She’s been attending college since she was 15 years old. She lied about her age to get a head start, with the help of her aunt Laura, and her grandmother Eliza. She attended community college in Wyoming before wanting to get transferred out of state.

She was able to rent out a small 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom house with a decent size backyard that is owned by the University, which is why the rent is pretty cheap usually it costs a lot more, and she also got a job at the University's café & diner with starting pay at $14.50. To her that seems very unrealistic but she’ll take it, she ain’t complaining.

She drives down the road with her dog Haley in the passenger seat with her head out the window trying to bite the wind as they drive down the road.

"Smell that fresh Montana air Hale" she says with a smile, Haley pulls her head back in and lets out a bark, her eyes widened and has that look like she's smiling.

You know that look dogs do with their tongues hanging out making them look like they're smiling.

Driving down the road, off on the side, a huge billboard sign with a photo of some man with the caption.

“We Love You and We Will Take You”

"That's very welcoming" she jokes.

Kate turns onto a small side road that leads to her new home.

She drives slowly, while looking at the GPS on her phone.

After a few minutes she finds the house.

"Here it is" she says, pulling into the driveway.

Shutting off the car, and getting out.

"Come on Hale" she says, padding her thigh.

She takes the house keys out of her pocket, and opens the door.

It's a decent size house for someone who's living on their own, the house is slightly furnished. Her uncle Brent sent some of their old furniture to her new house.

A coffee table, a few chairs, few lamps, a night stand, and a full size bed with the frame, head, footboard, mattress and box spring.

The backyard is bigger than she thought. She opens the door, and lets Haley out to the back.

"Go sniff around" she tells her.

The 2 1/2 year old German Shepherd sniffs the corners of the fence, looking for a spot to do her business.

Kate goes back inside, leaving the backdoor open for Haley.

She checks out the rest of the house, the 2 bedrooms, the bathroom and washroom, luckily a washer and dryer comes with the place. So at least she wouldn't want to buy it.

She goes back to the living room, and sees that Haley came back inside.

She goes to close the backdoor, locking it, she heads out to the front and unpacks her trailer. Boxes, boxes and boxes of her stuff, clothes, books, her WiFi router, personal hygiene products, small furniture, stuff for school, some groceries she has in her mini fridge, some of Haley's stuff, her toys and food.

She finishes unpacking around 3:30pm, her room is all set up, her bed is fixed, all her clothes are put away in the closet and dresser, she has photos of her friends, family and posters of bands she likes hanging up on the walls.

She set up her 60inch TV, the box and WiFi router in the living room, she put up curtains on all the windows, and put some plants out on the front porch.

She has all of her hunter stuff in the 2nd bedroom, her angel blades, demon blades, holy water, bags of salt, her books, her dad’s journal. Bullets filled with rock salt, and all of her other hunting supplies.

She has everything set up, and all she needed now was a kitchen table, a couch and maybe some appliances like a microwave, toaster and a coffee maker.

She sighs in relief, lays back on her bed, Haley jumps on, laying next to her.

"You wanna go into town?!?" she asks the dog, she looks at her while tilting her head to the right.

"You wanna go for a walk?!?" she asks again, she tilts her head to the left while still looking at her. She lets out a loud bark which catches Kate off guard, and jumps off the bed.

Running back and forth down the hall, jumping at her on the bed in excitement.

She gets up from the bed.

"Okay let me find your leash" she says, while going into the living room.

She goes through some of her boxes.

After a few minutes, she finds her leash and puts it on her collar. Debating whether or not to take her in the car, or walk into town.

"It's only a 10-20 minute walk from here to town" she says out loud.

After a couple of minutes, she decides to drive, just in case some stores don't allow animals in, she can leave Haley in the car with all the windows down of course, or maybe leave her outside.

They drive into town, and she parks her car next to a gas station store.

"Come one Hale" she says.

She jumps out of the car, Kate locks it up and they walk past the small shops.

A grocery store, a pharmaceutical store, a gun shop, an autoshop, and lastly a bar called "The Spread Eagle".

She looks around, and sees an appliance store, she really does need those appliances.

She walks closer, and sees a sign on the door saying "Sorry, no animals allowed inside".

"Of course" she says to herself.

She ties Haley's leash to a parking meter under a tree

"I'll be right back" she says to her, petting her head.

She goes inside the store and looks around. Right off the bat she finds a toaster with 4 slots, and it costs $30 in which to her is a steal.

She finds a coffee maker and a microwave all that costs a decent amount, less than she thought it would be.

She pays for her stuff, and goes back outside to untie Haley, they walk back to the car, and put the appliances in the backseat covering them with a blanket.

They continue to walk around the small town of Falls End located in the Holland Valley region. They cross the street to go onto the opposite side. Up ahead Kate sees a small group of people walking into a church on the other side of the street. Thinking nothing of it.

While on the other side of the street at Falls End Church, John Seed is standing outside of it holding the Book of Joseph, preaching.

"Sin must be exposed so it may be absolved. We must wash away our past" while some of his men escort some locals into the church.

"You will know the power of Yes, you will confess your sins" he continues.

As he looks around he sees Kate with Haley walking on the opposite side of the street.

He stares at her as she walks by, a smirk appears on his face. Perhaps he is engrossed by her?. He gets a weird feeling in his stomach but he ignores it.

He continues to watch her as she walks further down the street away from the church.

He shakes his head, snapping out of that trance, and continues to preach to the sinners.

Kate walks down the street towards a different market. Once again they don't allow animals in the store.

So she ties Haley to a small iron fence in the shade "I'll be back'" she tells her again.

She shops for about 25 minutes, she doesn't like to keep her dog outside that long especially out in public, she grabs bread, eggs, orange juice, fruit, cereal, milk, breakfast sausages, bacon, dog treats, grounded coffee and butter.

Typical stuff you would buy at a grocery store.

She pays for her stuff, goes outside, unties Haley putting the leash around her wrist.

"Here you can hold your treats" she says, as she gives Haley her bag of Beggin Strips.

She carries it in her mouth making the bags less heavy for Kate, and they head back to the car. They cross the street, now walking on the church side. John steps out of it, and sees Kate walking towards the church.

He gets a better look at her, she's really cute. Actually she’s more than cute, she’s beautiful. Black hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, looks like she could be 19-22 years old?. Could she be a college student?. He's about to say something to her, but it gets ruined when one of his men calls out for him.

"John!!" they call out.

Turning his head to look back at him.

He quickly looks back at Kate who is too far for him to call out to her.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, and goes back inside the church to see what they want.

Kate walks back to her car, and puts her groceries in the back seat.

Haley jumps into the front seat, and they drive off.

They get stopped at a red light in front of the church, John looks out the window, and sees a black 70 Monte Carlo with a German Shepard sticking its head out the window.

He quickly recognizes the dog, and sees Kate in the driver seat.

Quickly, he goes outside before the light turns green. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he yells out "Nice car!!".

Kate can't see who yelled it because Haley is blocking her view from the passenger side, and is barking at some of the peggies outside the church.

So she yells back, "Thank you!!" followed with a honk of the horn. She in a way acknowledged John even if she didn't really see him.

She continued to drive down the road heading back home.

After a 10 minute drive, she makes it home, and puts all her groceries away, hooks up the appliances and sits back on one of her chairs for the rest of the day watching TV with Haley chilling at her feet.

“What a day Hale” she says, resting her feet on the table.

*3 in half hours later*

That night John is baptizing, cleansing some sinners, making them a step closer to being a part of Eden’s Gate. He’s doing his usual thing, making sure they are cleansed, and washed away from their sins.

He can’t seem to get Kate off his mind, he finds this very strange because these are some new feelings, that he has never felt before.

After he finishes the baptism, Joseph notices something is off about his younger brother.

He approaches him once he’s finished.

“John?!” he says, approaching him. “What is troubling you brother?”.

John doesn’t know what to say, he stumbles with his words “Nothing, Joseph”.

He places his hand on John's shoulder, their foreheads touching.

“It’s about a girl, isn’t it?” he asks, sounding like he already knew what this was all about.

John looks down, and lets out a soft sigh.

“Go to her. She can be your other half, when we cross Eden’s Gate” he tells him, before walking away.

John looks up at his older brother as he walks away, leaving him to contemplate with what he should do next.

#far cry 5 #john seed #kate winchester #john seed x kate winchester #far cry 5 fanfiction #eden's gate: left behind #my writings #my ocs #my oc kate winchester #john seed x oc #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #joseph seed #power of yes #fc5 john seed #fc5 fanfic

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dancingintheafterglow13 · 4 years ago

Text

I Know Places full analysis

Okay everyone, here it is... my long awaited analysis on I Know Places (illicit affairs coming soon but I promised one at least today so I’m keeping that promise; everyone has been waiting long enough).

I’ll mostly focus on the song itself, and the visuals that go with it, but I’ll probably also touch on who it may be about (Dianna Agron) as well.

This is a VERY long analysis so it’s all under the cut.

(I want to mention before I start, that Genius has a citation that says that it could be about a “rumored same-sex relationship”. It mentions Karlie but this is a Dianna song so I don’t think the timing of this song’s release makes sense as a Karlie song but I thought I’d mention that because I’d never seen that before)

The song starts and ends with a click. I have seen quite a few interpretations of that click: cassette, record, and recorder. I’ve always thought that it was a record, and the last sound was the arm being lifted. I suppose it doesn’t really matter exactly what it is, because all three kind of relate to a similar idea: the ‘80s theme of the album and of Taylor and her lover being watched and constantly scrutinized (I’ll come back to this one later) by the media. That by itself isn’t specifically gay but this intro and closing kind of haunt me. It’s as if there are always people watching them and they can’t be together. This feels like all those historical queer movies I’ve seen where the women have to hide their relationship and people are watching (oh! and that scene in Carol where they were being recorded in their hotel room).

The instrumental of I Know Places is rather simplistic (I have the official karaoke version which helps to isolate the surrounding sounds). It starts and ends with that reverberated piano and then the piano drops at least an octave once the percussion comes in. This beat makes it feel like the central figures in the song are being chased, or at least moving fast and this is helped by the lower octave in the piano, as it adds a sense of unease to the song. The unease is carried forward by that haunting note at 0:25 that just sends a shiver down my spine. It happens again at 0:32 but lingers a bit longer, clashing just so with the piano that it gives the section more of an edge. Lyrically, at these sections, Taylor says “something happens when everybody finds out” and “love’s a fragile little flame it could burn out”. These haunting notes add to the fear that appears in these lyrics, of the relationship falling apart because people found out.

In the first Pre-Chorus, the percussion picks up, and adds in some claps and new beats that weren’t present before. Here, the song is really building up for the chorus and in this way it feels a bit chaotic here because this new drum pattern adds on to the piano and the “i, i, i, i” ’s that have returned from the beginning (and if I listen closely I think I can hear the haunting note return at 0:45 with “they are the hunters” which again, shows the fear).

The percussion stays the same from the Pre-Chorus to the Chorus but some of the other sounds change a little. The chords played by the piano are... happier almost than in the verse or the pre-chorus which really brings out the lyrics about knowing somewhere that the media can’t find them. The chorus also has more major chords than the verses. According to a website I found with the chords, the verses and pre-choruses have e minor, C major, a minor, b minor while the chorus has G major, D major, a minor, C major. This is easier to hear in a recording from the reputation stadium tour; with chords that were major in the chorus, before the melody stops just before the next verse. That pause adds another haunted vibe to the song because it asks if these places are really that safe (since, we know that Taylor’s relationship with Dianna ended in part because of the media [see the master post I’ve linked below]). It also is interesting to note that the chord changes pick up on “’Cause I know places we can hide” with G major, D major, a minor C major on the “I” and then again just to a minor on the “hide” (with the C major not coming until the first “places” in the next line). That again, matches the haunted vibe.

The second verse is very similar musically to the first but there’s an added bass line here, a plucked one. This grounds this verse more than the first one because there’s now a driving force that pulls the song forward and gives more dimension to the song. It also kind of adds an urgency to it and feels as if the people in the song are running, just as it says in the lyrics. This kind of mirroring is really cool because it deeply connects the lyrics to the music and makes the whole idea of the song much more powerful.

The second chorus is the same as the first but the bridge strips it back so it’s just the percussion and the bass line. The percussion has changed to just a bass drum hit, which again, pushes the song forward and again adds to the urgency, especially in the lyrics of the bridge “they are the hunters we are the foxes, and we run/just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it, my love”.

The urgency of the music through out the song pairs nicely with both the lyrics and looking at this song through a queer eye. Taylor, and her lover, are running from the media and it’s even more important that they aren’t caught because they aren’t straight. Taylor really wants this relationship to last, even if they have to constantly hide because she really loves this girl and wants to be with her.

It’s interesting to also take a look at the original lyrics that appear in the Voice Memo that Taylor released in the Deluxe edition of the album. The chorus is exactly the same but the first verse is a bit different (most of these are the same as what Genius says but I heard a few different words with headphones):

“... they’re waiting at the back door/they’re around and the vultures come around/and you know that...they want, they want us/say what they want about, say what they want about us/and you come and I sing and you listen?/I would not think about it but I’m not them/let them know a thing or two about it, a thing or two about it...”

Obviously these lyrics don’t make a lot of sense because they were just Taylor trying to send an idea out, but they're interesting to look at anyway. I think, especially the part where Taylor’s saying that the they (which is most likely the media) knows something but not the whole story. That's true especially about gaylor and all the women Taylor may or may not have dated.

Okay, now onto lyrics.

I’ve seen some analysis of the “I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I-I/I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I-I/I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I-I (I, I, I, I)” at the beginning as Taylor stuttering trying to answer interview questions about her love life but I also see it as paired with the click at the beginning and end, with the record or whatever recording device skipping (which lends itself back to the ‘80s theme).

“You stand with your hand on my waistline/it's a scene and we're out here in plain sight/I can hear them whisper as we pass by/it's a bad sign, bad sign”

If Taylor and her lover were seen in public together people would start talking and she’s afraid it would jeopardize their relationship.

“Something happens when everybody finds out/see the vultures circling, dark clouds”

I’ll touch on this later but making this song about Dianna, when a fake article was released that stated that they were dating, the two of them stopped hanging out in public. And, something else I’ll bring up, after going out to dinner, Dianna and Taylor were swarmed by paparazzi which is horrible to watch.

“Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out It could burn out”

Taylor’s scared that the whole world finding out will destroy her relationship with this woman (and with Dianna, it kind of did).

'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns/they are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run”

Boxes and cages really reminds me of the glass closeting Taylor started around the 1989 era. The “guns” definitely is the cameras that photographed every moment. Taylor and her lover have to continuously hide from the media in order to escape the scrutiny (this matches with Dianna too, because there pictures with them hugging and touching their other friends but never each other).

“Baby, I know places we won't be found/and they'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down/'cause I, I know places we can hide/I know places, I know places”

Taylor’s saying she knows somewhere where she and her lover can be together that the paparazzi can’t find them (this reminds me of I Know A Place by MUNA which is a queer band).

“Lights flash and we'll run for the fences/let them say what they want, we won't hear it/loose lips sink ships all the damn time/not this time”

Again one time when Taylor and Dianna were photographed by the paparazzi they were simply exiting a restaurant and going to the car (the flash is so bright in that gif). They ignored every comment thrown at them that time and just kept going. I feel like the last two lines reference the fake article that came out about them, and the rumor that Dianna and Taylor were in a love triangle with Tim Tebow. But, because all were denied and Taylor and Dianna stopped seeing each other as much, it saved them from having to face more scrutiny.

“Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it, my love”

They both want to hang on for hope that they can be together one day.

“They take their shots, but we're bulletproof (I know places)/and you know for me, it's always you (I know places)/in the dead of night, your eyes so green (I know places)/and I know for you, it's always me (I know places)”

“Take their shots” reminds me of the cameras chasing them again and they’re bulletproof because they won’t give the media and truth to the stories that they’re spinning.

Dianna thinks of herself as having green eyes (here’s her bitmoji) and green eyes are referenced in Wonderland (which is a Dianna song, no doubt about it).

Wanting to return to a lover in the future (and always going back to someone) is a big theme in all of the Dianna songs in 1989, so it makes sense that it would be present here too.

Some important visuals surrounding I Know Places:

The closet doors from tour:

And the fake article released about Taylor and Dianna that effectively ended their public friendship:

I won’t go into detail about Dianna and Taylor’s relationship (you can read all about that on the Swiftgron Masterpost) but I wanted to go back to the idea about Taylor and her lover being constantly watched and scrutinized and how it is very reminiscent of Taylor and Dianna. There are only a couple of photos of them together that don’t come from the media but there’s one set of phots that really fits this idea. On May 15th, 2015, Taylor and Dianna went to dinner together, potentially with a couple of friends (based on photos). Here’s some screenshots from a gif of that night (the gif won’t upload but here’s a link to it [*flash warning*]).

First of all, this is horrifying. The amount of photographers there trying to take a picture of them for the tabloids (”they are the hunters we are the foxes”) and how bright it is. And, if you look carefully Taylor seems to be holding onto Dianna (”just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it”). If you watch this gif, you’ll see how this guy in the fourth screenshot just jumps on top of other photographers to get a photo of them. If the paparazzi were so brutal when she simply went out to dinner with friends (and a potential girlfriend) it’s no wonder that I Know Places exists.

Okay that’s my full analysis of I Know Places! Feel free to reblog with anything I may have missed and if you made it this far, thank you for reading :)

#i know places #taylor swift #gaylor #gaylor swift

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another-sonic-blog · 5 years ago

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You've ever seen the music video to Wedding Dress by Taeyang? I just thing that would be an amazing story for a Shamyson.

Wedding Dress

(SonAmyShad)

2K160

Amy walked down the aisle, the white wedding dress she was wearing softly moved along her steps making look as if she was floating. Everyone looked at her in awe, amazed by her beauty. Some laugh, some smiled, happy for the soon to be married couple.

And Shadow was waiting for her.

Shadow was jealous of Silver. At least he could go back to the past and redeem his mistakes. Shadow couldn't do that and it was too late now.

"You know, it's not too late."

"She is getting married next week, it is too late."

Shadow and Silver were currently at their shared apartment. Silver watched from his couch, watching Shadow play the piano was actually amusing to him. He didn't see him as the one to play classical instruments, maybe a guitar or drums but never a piano.

"She is not married yet, you can still tell her how you feel." Silver said. He was the only one who knew of Shadow's love for a certain pink hedgehog. He was the one who introduced them after all.

"What if you go to the past and stop me from falling in love with Amy goddamn Rose." Shadow pressed the piano key's very hard, showing his anger.

"You were going to fall in love with her anyway, I can't alter the past that would just mess up the fu-" Silver shut himself off. One of his flaws was talking too much and this was one of those moments.

"Wait ... you knew this was going to happen?" Shadow tilted his head, giving Silver a cold look. "And you still introduced me to her?"

"Hey, I was just speeding things up! It was going to happen anyways and-"

"I knew I should have moved to another city."

"It was still going to happen, one way or another."

Shadow cursed everything under his breath. Was this destiny? And if so, why hate him so much?

"I don't believe in destiny."

"Really? You don't believe that we are meant to do something in this world?"

"No, you can do whatever you want."

Amy let out a small laugh, Shadow's ideology amused her, "I do believe in it."

It was a snowing day and Amy and Shadow walked hand by hand. Nothing romantic, but Shadow insisted because Amy wasn't wearing any globes and didn't want her hands to get cold.

"Sometimes I wonder," Amy said softly, "If everything is predetermined by destiny."

Well if destiny existed, fuck it. Shadow kept playing the piano, he had composed this song the night after Amy told him that she was marrying Sonic.

He had it mastered and even wrote lyrics for it. Shadow thought that maybe with this song, he could have some peace of mind.

Confessing his feelings with this sonata. The lyrics he wrote were too personal and of course, if he were to sing them, it will ruin the wedding.

"Shadow ... are you alright?"

Shadow looked over ti his white friend, he was still looking at him from the couch but he shrugs it off.

"Yes." Shadow responded, "Anyways, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you go back to the future soon?"

"I was invited to the wedding, so I decided to come."

"You already know how it turns out, why come?"

Silver looked at his friend. He was doing bad, circle under his eyes, losing way too much weight and pale. He wished he could him the truth but interfering with destiny wasn't any good. After all, all of this was mean to be as well.

"Curiosity."

It was the wedding day and everyone seemed to be having to be happy but for a certain black hedgehog. No one took it in the wrong way however, Shadow was known for his 'special' attitude.

It was an outside ceremony in the vast fields of Fairy Forest. There was a small chapel decorated with beautiful blue and pink flowers. The guests' chairs were decorated in the same manner. The carpet that leads to the chapel was replaced by a sheet of flower petals.

Shadow was by the side, right behind his black piano. Sonic was already on the chapel, waiting for his soon to be bride.

"Think positive Shadow. In a parallel universe, you are the one standing there, waiting for Amy."

"Lucky bastard," Shadow said between his teeth.

Sonic smiled at him, one out of pity. Shadow growled he couldn't help but feel angry at him. Sonic knew that he loved Amy but in all honesty, he won fair and clean.

What bothered him the most was that after years of leaving Amy alone, he comes backs and takes her.

Shadow noticed the guest stand up, meaning that the bride was here. He sat down, ready to play his song the moment he sees Amy enter the room.

But that never happened.

Shadow didn't know if it was Amy's un-compared beauty or because of the wedding dress she was wearing.

Maybe Amy was right. Sonic and Amy were always meant to be together. Amy saw it when she was young and now she was happily completing her destiny.

Amy began to walk down the aisle but a few seconds passed and she turned to look at Shadow. It was strange of him that he hasn't played the piano yet.

The moment their eyes connected, Shadow just couldn't help it. His ears lowered and his eyes were filled with love.

"Sometimes I wonder," Amy said softly, "If everything is predetermined by destiny."

Shadow stopped walking as he noticed Amy's face change in expression. It was snowing heavily now and noticing this, Shadow pulled out his transparent umbrella and covered both of them.

"It doesn't matter if you are in the wrong or right path ... It doesn't affect me, it shouldn't affect you either," said Shadow.

Amy looked up at Shadow, "What do you mean?"

"It means that I determine my own destiny."

Shadow's memory broke off the trance and he immediately sat down to play the piano.

He took a deep breath and began to play. He had composed this song to express his feelings. It wasn't simply music he had written lyrics as well.

He got close to the mic which was meant to be there so the guests could hear the piano but instead, he used it to sing.

Some say it ain't over 'till it's overBut I guess it's really over nowThere's something I gotta say before I let you goListen...

Amy looked at him a bit suprised. She didn't know the song was supposed to have lyrics on it. She stopped in the middle of the aisle and waited for Shadow to finish his singing his song.

When you have a fight with himAnd I sometimes see you crying and suffering because of it/himI feel hopeBut I have a heartache unnoticedThen just a hint of your smile makes me composedFor fear that you might know how I feelAnd that then we might drift apartI bate my breath and bite my lipsPlease leave him for me

"Hey, Shadow! I want to introduce you to someone" Silver said as he approached the black one.

"I really don't have the time-"

"This is Amy Rose. You may know her already but I just wanted to officially introduce you to her."

Of course, he knew her. Amy Rose, world heroine, and leader of the Resistance. He didn't care much about her but he respected her.

"Nice to meet you, Rose."

"Amy, please. Call me Amy."

They shook hands and that was the beginning of Shadow's path to love her.

The guest looked at each other in surprise. They knew what was going on.

Shadow was confessing his feelings to Amy Rose.

Baby, please don't take his hand'Cause you should be my ladyLook back at me; I've been waiting for you for longWhen the music echoesThen you will spend the rest of your life with himThough I've prayed every night this day would never comeThe wedding dress you put on (dress, dress)Girl, the wedding dress you put on (dress, dress) (that's not me)The wedding dress (dress, dress)Oh, the wedding dress you put on, oh, no

Shadow kept playing the piano as he let more memories come to his mind.

"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be with the blue one?"

Shadow asked Amy. The two of them had come back from a very important mission in which Sonic and Shadow were in bad condition. Broken ribs and deep wounds.

"He will be fine. I care more about you at the moment!" said Amy as she sat on his couch, wrapping a bandage around his arm.

"I am the ultimate life form, I don't need-"

Amy interrupted Shadow, they have known each other for three months already and it seems like he can't understand it yet. "I don't care if you are the ultimate life form or not. You are hurt and I am going to take care of you."

"Why?"

"Because you are my friend."

Shadow looked over at Amy who was holding back her tears already. How much he hated seeing her crying, especially if it was because of him.

But at the moment, this was important.

I hated you because you never knew my feelingsSo, sometimes, I wished you would be unhappySeeing that I've already run-run-run out of tearsThat I habitually speak to you when I'm actually aloneAnd that I've felt so uneasy every nightMaybe I've known this would happenI close my eyes and dream an endless dreamPlease leave him for me

"That girl totally likes you! You should ask her out!"

Amy and Shadow were doing their weekly hang out by walking in the park. A young beautiful hedgehog girl had passed by them and smiled flirtingly at Shadow.

"Not interested," Shadow replied.

"Why? She is beautiful!"

"... I have someone else in mind." Shadow looked at the side, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh! Is she pretty?" Amy asked.

"Very."

"Smart?"

"The smartest hedgehog I know."

"Personality?

"Kind."

"Is it me?"

"Yes"

Shadow turned around, completely red from cheek to cheek. "That's not what I mean!"

Amy laughed, as she gave Shadow small pats on his back.

"Don't worry Shadow," said Amy, wiping away her tears. "I like you too."

Shadow kept singing as he closed his eyes. How much he wished to go back to time and just tell her that he likes her too.

And a lot.

Baby, don't take his hand'Cause you should be my ladyLook back at me; I've been waiting for you for longWhen the music echoesThen you will spend the rest of your life with himThough I've prayed every night this day would never comeThe wedding dress you put on (dress, dress)Girl, the wedding dress you put on (dress, dress) (that's not me)The wedding dress (dress, dress)Oh, the wedding dress you put on, oh, no

Shadow was carrying an arrangement of roses. He was walking by a flower shop and he couldn't stop thinking of them. They had power over him as if to tell him that his mission in life was to give them to Amy.

He was walking to her apartment but as soon as he got there he stopped.

Sonic and Amy were talking very happily outside Amy's apartment.

Shadow didn't know how much he loved Amy until the moment he saw her kiss Sonic.

He was heartbroken and since then, it had stopped working.

The Roses were never delivered and that thought still hunted his mind.

Shadow kept eye contact with Amy. She was already crying but there was no going back now.

Silver smiled at the scene. Everything was playing out just like destiny had determined. Not matter what time he went back to, these two were always meant to meet.

Always meant to be together.

Silver whispered, "You got this grandpa."

Please be happy with him so that I can forget youPlease forget how insignificant I lookedThough it's going to be deathly hard for me for a fairly long while, no oh

Shadow finished playing the piano and as fast as he could, he ran towards Amy. Shadow grabbed her hands and he gave Sonic an apologetic look.

Sonic nodded, knowing well that now it all depended on Amy.

"Amy ..." said Shadow, "I love you."

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've been so busy with other stories. Thank you so much for this prompt! Wedding Dress will always be an iconic song! However, I don't know if Shadow is a singer haha. Even while writing this story, I doubted myself a little. Also, sorry for any mistakes in the story, I was in a hurry lol.

But again, thank you for waiting!

#shadowxamy #Shadamy #shadow and amy #shadow the hedgehog #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonamyshad #sonamy fanfiction #sonamy ansgt #sonamy #shadamy au #shadamy fanfiction #Amy Rose #sonic and amy #amyrose

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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Honestly that’s me, also kinda good night/morning again.

You should be so proud that you were able to finish your school work, that is such an accomplishment! Also cat 👀🥺, but I hope that your kitten didn’t cause too much of a mess! Imagine if we made tallies though, that would be hilarious (also adding yes)

Box stuff

1. Yes, you have described them so well! Reggie is organized but at the same time very chaotic which frustrates Alex so much. (Even more so due to the fact that Luke is just chaotic not organized at all, I mean have you seen his writing) Also agreed, Bobby is middle and I love the drum idea that’s amazing!

2. The baby is an honorary member of the band is amazing, I love that like so much.

3. That is precisely what happens, also because Reggie was going to give it to Alex for food however he needed to put it somewhere and completely forgot

Board games and Jam stuff

1. I love the little detail that you added of matching pajamas because that’s exactly how their game nights go a majority of the time. Yes to all of these, Bobby is the one who flipped a table once during Pictionary and since then the game has been banned. (Also points if Alex did the same during Cluedo because Reggie just kept on saying that he was suspicious) ‘Reggie we are not playing about us, it’s a mystery game with clues’

(Also bring me up suspicious, I remember reading some thing about where the boys play among us and that’s all I can think about. Because they do and the boys just keep calling each other out, i’m not going on a tangent right now but I may in the future 😂)

I haven’t played Articulate before however yes they do! (Also for some reason the fact that the box has a circle which makes me think of the game of life, for I don’t know why reasons, so I’m going to offer that up)

You’re absolutely right they definitely do go to thrift shops and just find random cool stuff. (Alex joins them later on)

I love the detail that you added that Luke on Julie’s team won’t win which is mostly because he won’t stop staring at her throughout the entire game. Reggie is definitely the master, except for in scramble because Luke shines in that game. After people started taking sides and stuff monopoly was banned very quickly, you’re so right.

2. I really wish I could explain why I thought of this but legitimately this all became a thing from me looking at some random thing of strawberry jam. That is so clever and that is the ultimate pun for Reggie. (Since you mentioned different versionsc all I can think about is this song actually starting out with Reggie talking about how much he loves etc. jam and how all the rest of the boys have problems)

Number stuff

2. Yes, (eventually) in the end everyone has a couples jumper as well. Also The fact that Luke stretches Alex‘s hoodie is hilarious, especially because he was doing it to make Julie jealous basically. Also adding on, Willie and Alex are cuddling under a blanket during this whole thing.

3. Yes, Luke just wants to make Julie happy in life and that’s everything to be honest.

4. You know those shows you have where you put it on a watch later and you’re like I’m genuinely interested in this however procrastination is my best friend and suddenly it’s like three years later, well Merlin may be that show for me. I support that AU idea so much, we need that in our lives. (Honestly whenever I think of two halves of a whole I think of yin and yang and I can’t explain why). And I love how this made you think of a fanfic, because I’ve had similar thoughts as well during our conversations.

(Wait yes, Alex is definitely Merlin he has that oh I’m wise so you need to listen to me kind of style. Also definitely takes Luke, Arthur, under his wing to make sure that he is not dumb/dies)

5. I just want more Alex and Julie to be honest, I don’t feel as thought we got to see a lot of that in season one. Thank you, yes my thoughts exactly. (Honestly I like to think that he came out to her as well however at the same time due to the fact that people in the 90s weren’t as accepting I feel like he just doesn’t know how she’s going to react and is kind of saving that for a later date🥺)

6. Exactly, so Bobby has no way that they could technically be out there (how Julie kind of draw strength from the fact that her mom is watching over her which is why she believes that she got the flower during that exact moment) also things would be much different if they had been able to send some kind of sign down to him. Even if it’s something little just to show that they are still there for him and even death couldn’t come between them.

8. I think I now know how you feel when I mentioned him writing ‘we were going to be legends’ on the back of that photo. Because ouch, and you are so right it’s not even funny. Nothing is the same without the boys because they all have little personality things that make simple tasks even better. Luke is able to do the Rubiks cube because he fidgets a lot with his hands, Alex is able to do the puzzles because he has really great concentration and it helps him feel more focused, also same for Reggie he’s able to do crosswords and sudokus because he’s able to focus on the more also he’s really great with numbers. (Also I totally didn’t say that Bobby doesn’t understand sudokus, because I don’t understand them)

That last sentence, you are correct but whoa that is painful.

10. Gotta love our random tangents

Yes, and the boys know that Bobby went on the logflume however they just don’t talk about it. Reggie has so many scrapbooks it’s not even funny legitimately once he realizes that he can take 1000 pictures and they can be stored in one place he kind of explodes (doesn’t stop him from making scrapbook though)

Alex just loves having people be happy, (also I didn’t think about an AU situation in which he does run into someone who has a skateboard )

I cannot describe that ride either however I know exactly what you’re talking about and Alex being impatient to go on rides is legitimately everyone who has ever been in a theme park. Reggie doesn’t talk to Luke for a good amount of time because Luke is the one who said that the ride wouldn’t be so bad, ‘I mean what’s the worst that can happen’ (also I did not say that just so I can reply, famous last words)

(Same energy as ‘street dogs haven’t killed us yet’)

Toffee nut- I’m glad you like the theory because I legitimately have no explanation for why Bobby is allergic to gluten but it just fits. Alex loves baking gluten-free stuff because not only is he reassured that Bobby has some thing that he can eat but in general it’s always nice to find new recipes.

Also random thought but every once in a while the boys will go somewhere go to bakeries and if they have gluten-free options they will try whatever they can.

Once again Alex just cannot say no to Luke and Reggie and they definitely eat the gluten-free food.

11. I love that for us 😂, even if there’s no possible way that I can happen it somehow did. (Also Reggie has a picture with the queen and I have no clue if there is even a way of having photoshop back then however Reggie is crazy enough to pull it off so they just think that it’s Photoshop)

13. Fairytale princess Luke is everything we need in our life. (This is also a band photo that is stored somewhere, because of course Luke wouldn’t do this alone)

14. His fists are like clenched tightly however he’s trying to pretend like he isn’t angry. I love that line with everything I have, that needs to be in season 2. Also the fact that someone who is very tall is trying to pretend to be someone who isn’t as tall is very humorous to me and I cannot explain why.

16. I love how determined Luke and Reggie are in this little scenario that you have painted, which they definitely are. One time Bobby is out and it’s just Alex with them two and he has no clue what to do because they can’t be in the kitchen however he cannot resist their puppy dog eyes.

17. Wait I love this (also Reggie finds baby photos of Willie that are actually baby Willie and shows them to Alex) (no one knows how but to be honest I could definitely see Reggie going to Caleb just ask for baby photos)

Also Willie finds it adorable that Alex is pretending to be embarrassed and definitely teases him about it. Bonus points if there’s a picture of Little Alex with a hotdog shirt and Willie is like ‘I knew there was another reason why I called you hot dog’

19. Water fights all the time, also during winter they have snowball fights all the time as well. (Also they always have water balloons on hand and it is very common for someone to throw it at another person‘s back and or down their shirt)

Yes, I love this theme as well, (despite being a very competitive person) Luke is just not competitive)

20. Same lol, honestly all Alex quotes and just Alex is everything and part of the reason why I love him so much.

(Also sidenote the fact that Owen Joyner performs these lines so beautifully. Maybe this is just me geeking out but the delivery and the pacing and the changing of voices from either high pitch to low pitch or whatever the line needs is just fantastic. Well if you can tell someone has been in any kind of music/acting field it’s that last sentence right there)

Alex is just happy that his friends are bonding with the guy that he likes. Especially because they are all the type of person that if their partner and or one of the boys doesn’t like each other then there is no way that they will be together. Also yes, Alex has a love hate relationship with Willie and Reggie bonding over puns.

Luke is very well practiced at egging houses, anyone who has ever made fun of the boys can confirm, and he is very torn between I want Flynn to like me but this is Julie’s house. Also yes, in the end he does egg her house.

Hear me out, she would’ve won mother of the year for being supportive towards Alex however I don’t feel like she would’ve for Luke because it didn’t really feel like she was supportive of the band which is basically Luke’s entire being. But aside from that yes. (But it got us unsaid Emily so I mean is that really a flaw 😂)

21. Yes, adding onto what you said honestly one thing that I keep thinking about which is the only thing he’s never told Luke is that he actually saw Emily and Mitch one time after Luke ran away.

Honestly for some reason I keep saying to myself he got arrested. Just because for being a person who basically freaked out at breaking into a museum it would be hilarious that he’s actually been in trouble with cops before, but anyways Emily and Mitch are his emergency contact so they have to pick him up and then that’s where they talk about Luke and everything. (I really wish I can explain this, also the fact that I’ve said this like 3 times already is concerning 😂😂)

But going back to what you said, he struggles with that so much because he loves Luke so much but at the same time due to the fact that Alex has such a bad relationship with his parents he doesn’t want Luke to end up on that note.

Mitch having a conversation with Ray is everything I needed and I did not think I would. (Imagine if Kenny Ortega had a secret Tumblr though 😂😂)

24. I want to see Flynn’s reaction to flying solo now it’s what we do deserve. Yes, it’s like you read my mind because that is exactly what happened, I feel like we can kind of see it in all eyes on me, with her face kind of being a tiny bit upset with Julie talking to the boys but she isn’t able to see what’s going on. (Even though the boys have only had one interaction with her they are very devastated, all they want is to be her friend as well)

Love how you meant Carrie, also why am I now thinking about Flynn joining dirty candy just to spite Julie, (I need to stop) also yess this is how the reaction song comes. Possibly maybe even a sad song because Flynn is talking about how much she loves Julie but she’s been feeling so disconnected from her lately. Yes, Jadah Maris is so talent.

Honestly I only know that video because one of my friends was singing the lyrics and I was very concerned 😂. Yes, you should be proud, maybe it’s because I cannot remember titles for the life of me but that is a very accomplishing thing.

25. Ahhh, dad Alex is everything. Also due to the fact that he has quick wit for a bit it would just be him and Carrie joking around with each other. Also I feel like the show does kind of show that although Trevor is supportive he is really bad at discipline 😂. (Honest Reggie wouldn’t be able to able to tell her off at all because he is afraid of somehow becoming like his parents, even though the boys keep reassuring him that will never happen)

26. Honestly the boys are kind of just holding a grudge at this point but it’s Trevor making the hats that has them go into a big group hug and burst into tears also the actual forgiving.

Also going along with the fact that Willie wears a beanie, he also wears a bandanna. I’m glad that’s stuck in your head to be honest.

28. Yes, what if the final product of Reggie raging at Bobby is Now or Never (however this has been re-make and has switch genres by Luke) (I have reasoning)

32. I love just thinking about some fans randomly bumping into sunset Curve. Legitimately they bring stickers and fanart everywhere because Alex is definitely the type of person to go to a grocery store at 3 AM just to look for a particular ingredient (for an example)

Honestly I had no reasoning for Alex being a hedgehog except for the fact that hedgehogs are cute so I most definitely agree and you are entirely correct

Yes, and once Alex finishes the puzzle it’s framed just because not only can he not take it apart but he’s afraid of it being ruined and it is so amazing

34. Yes, precisely and there’s only one photo of Luke that works and it’s him glaring and crossing his arms like an upset puppy (still stuck)

35. (Honestly Ray just adopts all of them, Luke, Reggie,Alex, Flynn, Willie all of them) I legitimately said this for just someone however instead of collecting stray cats Ray takes in stray children. Also, yes just best father of the year goes to Ray for the past 15 years. That is a very good theory because this entire time I’ve just been thinking of Reggie taking pictures.

Also the fact that technically Willie can’t show up on camera I didn’t think about but for the purpose of him looking absolutely amazing in these photo shoots I’m going to ignore that.

37. Yes, and Alex does have to make rules because otherwise he won’t have any clothes. The only reason Willie is allowed to get away with it is because he looks fantastic in the hoodie and Alex just has heart eyes.

39. Yes, she always talks out loud to herself and Trevor just silently encourages her and then he replies this one time and she is absolutely shocked but because the idea so so brilliant she immediately jumps on it.

40. Seeing Alex dance with Luke to dirty dancing with this particular dance in mind is what I need to see in season 2. Also yes, Reggie as well, honestly it just becomes a band thing because

Lol that is so relatable, also 10 out of 10 songs to be stuck in your head.

(Sorry for like the four notifications you got from me liking this post, because of course I just accidentally kept double tapping this and then letting out a gasp because it unliked the post)

Also the fact that this started from jigsaws and now we have three categories is everything

Good morning/night/afternoon/whatever time you’re reading this!

Ok so before I start I realised when I was trying to sleep that I left out a few things. I wanted to include a photo of a couples jumper and also the link to my Mitch headcanons, which I think I mentioned and then just didn’t include.

The only pics coming up were Christmas ones but this is the style I was in envisaging! Two heads holes, comfy, not just a random hoodie like Luke and Reggie try and use!

So here’s the link lol

BOX STUFF

1. Ajskfnskfo I love this like Luke’s writing is terrible can you imagine the state of his bedroom??

Actually, mentioning his bedroom, it was probably a mess and still is because Emily and Mitch didn’t tidy it when he went away in case he came back and then didn’t want to change anything after he died

3. YES definitely Alex being the designated chef of the group and Reggie bringing him recipes, except that’s the one he just totally forgets about, I love it

BOARD GAMES AND JAM STUFF

1. I love that so much omg they all have one game they just can’t play 😂 Bobby did that in Pictionary because he was doing his drawing and thought he’d made it really obvious, but the others were purposely guessing wrong and it pissed him off. And yes lmao Alex trying to explain to Reggie that it wasn’t him it was a random character for gods sake Reggie can you just read the damn rules?!

Omg PLEASE go on that tangent 😂😂

Oh yes totally they play game of life! It’s the only one Alex is really really bad at

Yessss Alex joining them is everything!

Omg yeah Luke is just watching Julie the whole time and she’s trying to help so they can win and he just doesn’t concentrate so they lose. Julie gets mad at him for it but he thinks it’s worth it

Lmao I can just imagine them playing monopoly - Alex is in charge of money and stuff and when Luke lands on one of Reggie’s spaces he can’t pay. Alex wants to just let him off (because he’s doing terribly and can’t win the game anyway) but Reggie is competitive and wants him to pay and Julie is backing him up because she likes playing by the rules. It’s two vs two, ends up in a big argument, and like you say it’s immediately banned 😂

2. Absjdldlajkd yes like the song actually started out about that, they figured out the tune was really catchy and then turned it into an entire song

NUMBER STUFF

2. Yes lol Alex and Willie just snuggled under the blanket like “guys there are easier ways to cuddle y’know” meanwhile Reggie got uncomfortable and tried to wriggle out the hoodie and they all just heard a ripping sound from the hoodie and Alex looked like he would have killed them if they weren’t already dead

4. YES even if you haven’t seen the show yet that’s literally perfect. Alex being one of the only ones who can get away with telling Prince Luke how dumb he is like Merlin and Arthur and keeping him safe. But somehow Luke still ends up dying from eating a bad hotdog

And I totally see where you get yin and yang from tbh!

5. Yes I can totally see that as well! I’ve read quite a few fics where he comes out to her and honestly it’s so cute every time because his reaction to her being immediately accepting of him is amazing. (Also I love it when she accepts him by immediately coming out to him as well - usually it’s bi Julie which I do love but I really strongly headcanon asexual Julie (best when she’s both tbh) and I realise that’s off-topic but yeah)

6. Yes omg now I kind of want to write that AU too 😂 Bobby somehow getting a sign from his friends to tell him that they’re okay and they’re still there. Like they could still come back to Julie, but in the dark room they get a glimpse of Bobby being sad and get to help him, therefore he doesn’t make so many mistakes

8. Absabskksksbf yeah omg 🥺 they all have their strengths and Bobby can’t build his own up to match them after they’re gone. And yes lol tbh I have literally no clue about sudokus either so I relate to not being able to do them, and props to Reggie for being amazing at them 😂

10. Awww yes Reggie just getting super excited when he finds out how much technology has progressed and how many pics he can take 🥺 also I can’t remember what they’re called but Reggie gets one of those portable printer things that’s kind of like a Polaroid but you can print them off your phone? Idk if I described that well but Julie gets him one and he loves it. Also at theme parks he always buys the photos the ride automatically takes

Oh my god oh my god oh my god yes! I love that so much omgggg your mind! It’s the one time Bobby doesn’t manage to pull him out of the way in time and it’s literally the best thing he could ever have done

Lmaooo yes that’s perfect Luke convincing them to go on it is definitely street dog energy. Reggie just refuses to even look at him because he’s that childish lmao

Ooooh yes and whenever they go to bakeries either Alex or Reggie will ask for the recipes of stuff they like (usually Reggie because no one can say no to him, but also Alex because he can be persuasive)

Yes lol eventually Bobby has to have a special like box or container to put his gluten-free stuff in otherwise Luke and Reggie will eat it all.

11. Yes definitely! Idk if they had photoshop either but they’re all convinced that’s what it is but he’s just really innocently like “no I swear I did” and it’s normally Luke who rolls his eyes like “ok sure buddy”

13. I swear if I was better at art I’d draw Cowboy Sunset Curve and Fairytale Princess Sunset Curve but alas no 😂 maybe I’ll just do it anyway lol

14. No I totally get that, it’s the sort of thing that’s funny for no reason lmaooo

16. Yes I love that like he is just moments away from opening the door and letting them back in but then he shakes his head like “no, focus” and the cycle keeps repeating. Also I love how in the scenario they keep moving but all they’re doing apart from that is puppy-dog eyes and that’s enough to nearly break Alex

17. YES. Willie has no idea where he got the photos from but doesn’t really question it either. And I can sooo see him asking Caleb for baby photos - like, he wants a Caleb scrapbook because like it or not he’s been a major part of their afterlives since he wants to remember him! So Caleb is confronting them after he stops possessing Nick and is doing this grand speech and when he’s done Reggie just raises his hand and goes “sorry but do you have any baby photos of you?” and Caleb just doesn’t question it and hands them over the next time they see each other. (Reggie also has Nick’s baby photos. Reggie has literally everyone’s baby photos.)

Ajsbskldl I love that! Little Alex in a hotdog shirt and Willie pretending to have some sort of psychic power like “yeah I totally knew about that it’s the other reason I call you hotdog!”

(BABY REGGIE IN A HOTDOG COSTUME.)

19. Omg Sunset Curve/Julie and the Phantoms snowball fights yessss and the water balloons are perfect - Luke’s preferred method is to sneak up behind someone and slam it on the top of their head so they’re totally drenched

20. Yes exactly!!! I definitely think Owen is one of the best actors in the show and one of the best in anything I’ve seen recently, he just plays Alex so perfectly and everything you said is 100% right I couldn’t have put it better myself

Yes that’s exactly their relationship! Like as sad as he would have been Alex would have dropped Willie if the guys hated him (and let’s be honest, seeing as Willie accidentally played a big part in the thing with Caleb they definitely could have hated him)

Yeah and Luke isn’t really sure if Julie being so mad at him for egging her house is worth it but he had fun so he goes with it

Oh yeah that makes so much more sense you’re totally right, but yeah it got us Unsaid Emily so in the end it was a good thing lmao

21. Ooooh yes! They share everything but that’s the one thing he has never told him

Lmaoooo yes but then what would he have been arrested for?? I feel like some sort of misunderstanding - like someone dropped something, he tried to be helpful and pick it up but then they accused him of theft and called the cops on him. Or he actually did do something illegal, knowing it was illegal. Aww yes Emily and Mitch picking him up and finally getting to see him and find out about Luke again 🥺

And yes exactly took the words right out of my mouth

If Kenny had a secret Tumblr and saw all this I would die laughing. Especially if he somehow included some of it in the show that would be the funniest thing. Sadly it’s very unlikely 😂😭

24. Yesss I agree we can totally see it then! I feel like it’s the really predictable scenario for her to be left out but I also think it would work really well

Oooooh Flynn joining Dirty Candi could be really interesting! I feel like it would only be for one song and then she’d feel bad but I’d actually love to see that.

I can totally see it being a sad song and also I think it would just be her and Julie there, the boys are nowhere to be seen and it’d give them a chance to make up before the boys are let in on it

25. Yes definitely! Because Carrie has such quick wit too their banter would be brilliant. Yeah you’re definitely right about Trevor, he’d do anything for her except discipline her well, and omg Reggie 🥺🥺 you’re so right, he’d be terrified, so he wouldn’t get involved at all when she’s being told off by Alex

26. I feel like maybe that was Bobby’s way of settling arguments back in the nineties (“Luke’s mad at me, guess I’d better make him a hat”) which is why it finally convinces them to forgive him

Omg bandana Willie might be even better than beanie Willie... maybe it’s just any time Willie has headwear, because I love Willie wearing his helmet too lol

28. Oh yes I love that! Originally the lyrics were “pack up your yarn Bobby, now or never” and Luke was like hmmm I like that

32. Omg that’s literally perfect I love that so much. Alex in his pyjamas (and a hoodie) staring at flour trying to remember which kind he needed to buy at 3 o’clock in the morning and the shop assistant is like omg you’re Alex Mercer then hands him a sticker

Yes definitely!!! He frames all his favourite puzzles and has them hanging up around the studio, but that’s his ultimate favourite and he makes sure to clean the frame of dust twice a week

35. Omfg yes that’s brilliant. Ray has two biological kids but actually he has four ghosts and his daughters best friend too (and maybe some other we don’t see, like Carlos’s best friend??) the comparison to stray cats is amazing - they just come in for food and maybe a hug then they’ll be on their way again.

Yeah same lmao I realised as I was writing that they wouldn’t show up but that’s a tiny detail and for this we can disregard it completely 😂😂 (or maybe he does show up sometimes, and even when he doesn’t there’s a golden orb there like in Ray’s photos and it actually looks really good somehow)

37. I live for heart eyes Alex tbh. And yes the other rules include: you must wash it if you get it dirty, if I find any rips I will literally kill you (because Luke once ripped one of his nicest hoodies), and for the love of god don’t lose it

39. Yes I feel like they’d be such a Father-Daughter-Dream-Team you know?? Like they’re really close and they know each other really well and the little things like that are the best part of their relationship!

40. Ahajdnsls yes I need it!

Lol the notifications were fine I literally do that so often bc I forget that’s how tumblr works 😂

Yes I was literally going to mention how we have categories now!!! I honestly find this so funny like how did we get all this from a jigsaw 😂😂😂

#love this for us 😂#williexmercer #asks #emily answers

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randomvarious · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

Tarika Rakoto Frah - “Zanak’iza” A World Out of Time, Volume 3: Music of Madagascar 1996 Sodina Music / Malagasy Music / World Music

I’m going to do something a bit different with today’s post and write about music that hardly any of us are ever exposed to. For whatever reasons, African music doesn’t get much attention in North America or Europe and that’s really just a total shame. But over the years, there have been two American men, both accomplished guitarists and ethnomusicologists, Henry Kaiser and David Lindley, who have been able to successfully bring African music to American shores. And one of the greatest focuses of their long-running project has been the wide variety of music from the island nation of Madagascar

.Resting in the Indian Ocean and located off of Africa’s southeast coast, Madagascar can probably claim itself as the continent’s most unique country. Because of a culture that mixes Indian, Middle Eastern, Polynesian, and South African traditions, the Malagasy people have consistently managed to generate some of the world’s most extraordinary and inimitable music. And up until 1991(!), nearly all of America remained completely oblivious to that fact. But that began to change when Kaiser and Lindley returned from Madagascar with about six CDs worth of recorded material. The result was a series called A World Out of Time, named after a photo-book by the same name that depicts Madagascar’s beauty.

One of the musicians that Lindley and Kaiser had the pleasure of meeting and recording was perhaps Madagascar's most famous: Rakoto Frah. In his 60s at the time, Rakoto Frah had already lived quite the life. He had risen to national fame decades earlier as a master of the sodina (a native flute made of bamboo) and he famously played when French president Charles de Gaulle came for an important visit. He was also featured on Malagasy currency!

By the time Kaiser and Lindley had met Rakoto Frah, he was already a known entity on the world music circuit, though still virtually unknown to Americans. The liner notes from the second volume of A World Out of Time heap a ton of praise upon him:

Rakoto Frah is one of the most amazing master musicians and individuals anywhere, by any standards. His mastery of the sodina is at a level that you could only compare to other great, instrumental masters like John Coltrane, Ali Akbar Khan, Billy Pigg, Bill Monroe, or Miles Davis. Rakoto Frah certainly seems to know mysterious things about the phrasing of melodies that nobody else knows. During Rossy [another Malagasy musician] & Rakoto Frah's American tour, Ornette Coleman remarked to Rossy and Henry that Rakoto Frah must be the greatest phraser on the planet. Rakoto Frah says he has written over 500 songs [he tapped out at about 800 before his death in 2001]. He seems to have been present at many of the major political and cultural moments of 20th century Malagasy history. He's a real character. Rakoto Frah, paradoxically, is wise & crazy, young & senile, traditional & eccentric, foolish & crafty, con man & exemplary citizen, dark & light...all at the same time.

Not mentioned in those liner notes is that Ian Anderson, the lead flutist of Jethro Tull, also counted Rakoto Frah as one of his biggest influences. I wonder how Anderson discovered him.

One of the many things that Rakoto Frah became renowned for were his performances at famadihana ceremonies (the "turning of the bones"), a sacred funerary Malagasy tradition, described by Musical Traditions Magazine in the following way:

Famadihana ceremonies feature troupes of sodina and amponga (a European-derived military-style drum) players. The events are rooted in the immense respect which the Malagasy people show their ancestors, manifesting in day or even week long celebrations of the dead. Far from being sombre or macabre occasions, they are infused with joy and celebration, reflected in the wild, frenetic music that the musicians play for dancing (to please the dead).

It's not stated anywhere in the liner notes from A World Out of Time's third volume, but I'm willing to bet that the song I'm posting today, "Zanak'iza," which is performed by Rakoto Frah's band, Tarika Rakoto Frah, is from a performance at a famadihana ceremony.

Feast your ears upon this song because it's probably one of the most novel pieces of music you’ll ever hear. "Zanak'iza" has no formulaic song composition like the verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structures we’re largely accustomed to in North America and Europe. The amponga in this song isn't there to hold a steady rhythm and there's no consistency to the multitudes of sodinas that concurrently play. "Zanak'iza" is free flowingly virtuosic and its unpredictability is key in just about every way. It's that level of unexpectedness, that total mystery of what sets of notes or rhythms are to cone next that keeps the listener so engaged. And it's amazing how just two types of instruments, flutes and drums, can combine to produce music like most of the rest of the world has never heard or ever come close to imagining.

A stunning piece of music from this Malagasy master of the sodina and his band. Really incredible stuff.

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acidproofnotebook · 4 years ago

Text

One-Punch Man Chapter 84, Update 125

As published online

Date:

Translator: u/hdx514

Rough page by page translations for those who don't want to wait. I'm skipping most pages with only sound effects.

Title page

Not lonely, but a solitary one

Pages 2-5

Bang wrecking Garou

Page 6

Genos: perfect moves that combine attack and defense into one

Ge: even though both use the same water stream rock smashing fists, the difference in master is night and day

Ge: the battle about to reach its conclusion

Page 7-11

Garou continues to get wrecked

Page 12

Garou: w…what is this

Ga: these vicious attacks are nothing like damn geezer’s style…

Page 13

Ga: bad…this is bad

Ga: my consciousness is…

Ga: it means…death…

Ga: Ahhhh

Page 14

Bang: what is that strange movement

Ba: where did he learn it?

Ba: he’s moving like a beast

Ga: I’m not done yet!

Page 15

Ga: if I use the fallen heroes as hostages, there might still be a way out!!

Bomb: I won’t let you

Page 16

Monsters get sliced up

Page 17 Bomb: Bang, we finished the monsters from the hole in the ground

Bo: it’s just Garou now

Page 18

Genos: life signals from monsters still remain

Ge: not sure why, but I cannot accurately assess their location or numbers

Ge:if we go down that hole, will we find the Monsters Association hideout?

Pheonix man: The Monster Association members were all killed? Damn, they really are unreliable.

Page 19

Phoenix man: even though we deployed significant forces to capture Garou alive

Ph: that Demon Cyborg…the power he possesses is unbelievable

Ph: even Silver Fang is here, there’s no chance we get Garou away from here

Ph: but if I leave empty handed after this crushing defeat, I might get eaten by Orochi

Page 20

Ph: regardless, I can only hope Garou can escape on his own …

Ph: ...what a desperate situation… Ph: does this mean I have to plan an exit strategy from MA…?

Ba: (referring to Bomb) if you were this badly injured, could you still be standing?

Bo: …if I were 60 years younger, I might be able to tough it out

Bo: …maybe

Bo: we’re almost there!!! Let’s finish him before the other heroes arrive!

Ba: roger

Page 21

Ga: can’t even move my wrists…

Ga: attacking your former number 1 disciple when he’s at his weakest, how despicable of you, Bang

Page 22

Ga: this other geezer, isn’t he Bomb, master of the whirlwind iron cutting fist?

Ga: to think the two reclusive masters of the martial arts world would gang up on me, shameless

Ga: even if I pretend to beg for my life, Demon Cyborg still won’t spare me

Ga: If I want to survive this crisis, I have to kill all three

Page 23

Ga (or Bang?): it’s impossible

Ba: do you know how much pain you have caused my number one disciple Charanko

Ba: Garou!!

Page 24

Garou flashback

Kids: let’s play a hero game!

Kids: you too, Garou

Kids: c’mon let’s play

Garou: huh, sure

Page 25

Kid: drum roll~~

Kid: justice man is here!

Kid: justice kick

Kid: aah it hurts!

Page 26

Ga: hey that’s dangerous

Kid: huh?

Ga: I feel bad (for the kid playing monster)

Kid: …how about you play the monster

Kid: justice cross

Ga: waa (steps out of the way)

Kid: what’s wrong with you?

Ga: s…sorry, Tatsu

Kid: I almost had you

Kids: what’s your problem, you’re a monster, you’re not supposed to do that

Kids: let’s pin him down

Kids: okay-

Page 27

Kid: justice man kick!

Kid: monster Garou defeated~

Ga: what is this, pre-death flashbacks?

Ga: these memories disgusts me

Ga: that kid…right, I remember him…Tatsu, that popular kid

Page 28

Kids: hey, what’s going on? Why are you fighting?

Kids: shall I call the teacher?

Kids: Garou is being violent

Kids: we were only playing, but he got mad! What’s his problem

Ga: I….I can’t take it any more!

Ga: come Tatsu, me vs. you, let’s figure it out

Tatsu: ha? What are you talking about, I thought we were just playing

Page 29

Ga: I DON’T want to play monster! It’s no fun at all!

Ga: let’s duke it out, if I win you stop bugging me, that’s the deal!

Tat: Sabu, Yotsu, hold Garou down

Ga: despicable….stop…let go! I…

Ga: aah…damn it!

Kids: he’s crazy, let’s call the teacher

Kids: run Tatsu

Kids: pin him down, pin him down!

Kids: what happened?

Kids: you guys should come and help

Kids: Tatsu was being nice and Garou took advantage of him

Kids: he’s the worst

Kids: Garou got serious with Tatsu all of a sudden while playing the game

Kids: what’s this guy even thinking

Kids: I feel so bad for Tatsu

Page 30

Tatsu is a king among the kids, Tatsu is a bully, Tatsu is nasty

I’m in the dark, always alone I have no friends

Tatsu is a good athlete, Tatsu is popular

I despise the popular ones

not sure of the order of the following dialogue

Teacher: why did you get violent?

Te: I heard you got mad while playing a hero game, is that true?

Te: can you not even tell the difference between a game and reality!

Ga: no teacher, it’s because Tatsu is so popular that everyone is badmouthing me

Te: you were the violent one, weren’t you? What if a window got broken, how are you going to pay for that!

Ga: Tatsu always…always treats me like a monster

Ga: NO!

Page 31

Ga: I don’t dislike playing the monster

Ga: am I holding a grudge against Tatsu for playing the hero?

Ga: no, that’s not it either

Ga: it’s just that playing the hero game has made me realize how absurd it is

Ga: the one who’s popular can bully the one who’s hated however he wants

Te: you are in the wrong, apologize now

Te: call your parents

Ga: this is not just bullying, this is a faithful, real life adaption of a kids’ game that is accepted by the public.

Ga: you are free to choose your role, but the ones who ends up playing hero must have the support of the people, how could that ever be me.

Ga: naturally, the script in which the one playing monster scores the victory doesn’t exist in the first place. I was destined to lose.

Page 32

Ga: what is justice! What is evil!

Ga: at the end of the day it’s just following the will of the masses, and the masses wants me dead!

Ga: unforgivable! There is no logic!

Ga: I can’t explain the reason behind it, but it makes me mad!

Ga: I will make you understand! Ga: I will deliver my punch on behalf of the disenfranchised!

Ga: and I reject your notion of good and evil!

Page 33

Genos: he fell

Bang: it’s over

Page 34

Ga: no way it ends at a place like this!

Page 35

Garou shatters earth

Page 36

Bang/Bomb: what?!

Page 37-39

Garou lifts tree and swings it

Bo: this is bad, his body…

Ba: what’s with this burst of power?!

Page 40

Bang: don’t you realize it yet Garou!

Ba: if you keep going like this, you really will die!

Ge: Bang, above you!

Page 41-42

Phoenix man lands and grabs Garou

Page 43

Bo: more monsters!?

Ba: there’re still a few left!!!

Page 44

Ba: !

Ba: Genos-kun

Ge: Bang, you saw that just now, didn’t you

Ge: that thing has become monster, it even befriended one

Ge: I trust that you won’t object if I shoot both of them down

Page 45

Phoenix man (calling to Elder Centipede): Can you hear me!!?

Ph: I have Garou

Ph: just finish these guys off!

Ph: I’m leaving the rest to you!!

Bo: ???

Page 46-47

Ge: spiral incineration cannon

Ph: Elder Centipede

Page 48-50

Elder Centipede emerges and tanks Genos’ cannon fire

Page 51

Bo/Ba/Ge: What was that!?

Page 52-53

Elder Centipede breaking ground

Page 54-55

Disaster level: dragon

Giant monster insect Elder Centipede

Page 56

Bo: w..what…

Bo: is this a living thing!!?

Ba: damn, we must protect them (the fallen heroes)

Page 57

Ba: up you go

Page 58

Bomb using whirlwind iron cutting fist to save the fallen heroes

Page 59

Ge: those life signals must have been caused by it…

Ge: it’s not that I wasn’t able to pinpoint its location, it’s simply too massive

[very long -- rest under cut]

Page 60

Ge: completely unharmed after taking the cannon fire

Ge/Bo/Ba (not sure who said it): an opponent that can easily break my wrists…

Garou (I think): that centipede…

Page 61

Ga: why did you come here?

Ph: don’t worry, Elder Centipede will handle the rest down there

Ph: that guy is a literal natural disaster that swallows everything

Ph: his indiscriminant power of destruction is truly shocking

Ph: an anti-climactic “hero hunt” as usual, wouldn’t you say?

Ph: you can’t just knock them out, they must be eliminated permanently

Ph: heroes who are knocked out will be always come back bouncin’

Page 62

Ph: …you just rest easy

Ph: Elder Centipede will end it all

Ga: ! (starts struggling)

Ph: stop wasting your energy

Ga: those heroes are my prey

Ph: yo yo, stop moving!

Ga: damn you, let me go! Unforgivable!

Ph: hey hey, don’t get angry

Ph: it’s your fault you didn’t finish them off after all

Ph: plus, this is a golden opportunity for us to off 2 S-class heroes

Ph: the S-class heroes are the biggest threat to the Monsters Association

Page 63

Ph: you experienced it firsthand, didn’t you

Ph: there is such thing as battle compatibility

Ph: if our advisor Gyoro is right, in the entire Hero Association, there are only four who could take on Elder Centipede

Page 64

Ph: The wielder of unparalleled supernatural power, “tornado of terror”

Ph: The sole commander of a military force that’s beyond even HA’s control, “metal knight”

Page 65

Ph: The strongest human “King”

Ph: And…the one who almost killed Elder Centipede, the strongest hero, “Blast”

Page 66

Ph: Elder Centipede is working with Monsters Association in order to seek revenge against Blast

Ph: he just can’t wait to lure the hermit Blast back onto the battlefield

Ph: unfortunately…those two down there (Bang and Genos) do not possess the power to turn the tides in their favor

Ph: Silver Fang has obtained unmatched power through martial arts, but that only works on opponents of a similar size

Ph: Demon Cyborg’s capabilities are terrifying

Ph: but he carries nothing on-board that will threaten a monster of this size.

Ph: He cannot go beyond the destructive firepower of his weapons

Ph: that is the limit of Demon Cyborg

Page 67

Ph: with a lineup like that, they are surely doomed

Ge/Bo/Ba: It’s coming!!!

Page 68

Page 69-70

Elder Centipede charging against the three

Page 71-72

Ba/Bo: Whirlwind water stream air-blasting sky-splitting fist

Page 73-75

Impact, Elder Centipede cracking, Bang and Bomb posing

Page 76

Ge: what a technique (flashback of Bang and Bomb talking about their technique: it’s a killing blow, but it has openings, my understanding is they needed Genos’ attack to act as decoy in order for their combo to land, because it’s not yet perfect)

Ge: it even shattered such hardened shell…

Ge: this must be

Ge: the pinnacle of technique/skill

Page 77-78

Ba/Bo: it’s not over yet x 10

Page 79

Elder Centipede pushes Bang/Bomb back

Page 80

Ba: ouch…that was careless

Bo: but we got it

Bo: the impact will ravage its body

Bo: turn into powder, monster

Ba: for two old folks like us, using this grand technique once is our limit

Ba: great thing we landed

Ba: a little help, Genos

Page 81

Ba: it’s over

Page 82

Elder Centipede molting

Page 83

Ba: it can’t be

Page 84

Ba: this guy just molted!!!

Ba: and it’s even bigger than before!?

Ba: how could this be

Page 85

Bo: we cannot defeat that thing…!

Bo: and we need to protect the unconscious heroes…

Bo: what shall we do!? Bang!

Ba: it’ll catch up to us if we tried to run

Ba: this forest park is just outside the city limits …

Ba: if we leave we’ll get civilians involved

Page 86

Ge: Bang, I will fight it

Ge: try my best to lure the centipede over here

Ge: you guys grab the injured heroes and get out of here

Page 87

Ba: Genos kun

Ba: you want to go alone

Ba: can’t say I agree with this plan…

Bo: I know there’s little chance of success, but don’t be reckless

Bo: the future belongs to the youths

Genos’ flashback of Dr. Kuseno: whatever you do Genos, don’t be reckless

Page 88

Ge: am I really going to…

Ge: leave this monster be

Page 89-90

Ge: That is not

Ge: possible

Page 91-92

Genos fighting Elder Centipede

Page 93

Ba: this is madness

Ba: cannon fire cannot harm it

Page 94

Ge: whether it’s this thing

Ge: or the monster from yesterday (Gouketsu)

Page 95

Ge: or Garou

Ge: they’re all part of the Monsters Association

Ge: this fight

Ge: is unavoidable

Page 96-97

Genos attacking Elder Centipede from above

Page 98

Ge: Dual Blade Rush

Ge: that’s what you have to do to fight them

Page 99

Ge: I’m participating

Ge: destroy

Page 100

Ge: if this is me being reckless

Ge: !

Page 101

Ba/Bo: Genos kun!!!

Ge: at this rate, I’ll…

Page 102

OUT OF THE FIGHT

Page 103

Genos recombines

Page 104

Ge: Jets drive arrow

Page 105-106

Genos kicks Elder Centipede tooth, which cracks

Page 107

Ba/Bo: he’s inside its mouth

Elder: it’s over…

Page 108

Ge: ! digestive acid

Elder: I’ll melt you in a few seconds

Ge: it’s you who are going to melt

Page 109-110

Ge: Super Spiral Incineration Cannon

Page 111

Aftermath of Super Spiral Incineration Cannon

Page 112

Bo: …!!!

Ba: he finished it!!

Page 113

Elder Centipede tanks the hit, is fine

Page 114

Ge: at the end…

Ge: I am unable to…defeat…

Ge: nor able to protect…

Page 115

Ba: let’s get out of here

Ba: Bomb!

Ba: grab the rest of them!!

Elder: futile struggle

Ph: what’s the matter

Ph: you were still responsible for taking out half of the heroes, it can’t be that bad

Page 116

Ga: not like that!

Ga: This is not what I had hoped!!!

Ga: I…I wanted to beat them with my own strength!

Ga: only then I can be a symbol of terror…!!

Ga: that’s the purpose of the hero hunt!!!

Ph: symbol of terror? You? Hahahaha…

Ph: in your current state, if you went back there, you’ll just end up getting trampled to death with the rest of the heroes

Ph: right now, you do not possess the strength to disobey Elder Centipede or executive members of the Monsters Association

Page 117

Ga: crying…

Ga: sooner or later…I’ll show you what I’m capable of…

Ge: how could I…

Page 118

Ge: what am I missing…!?

Ge: are there several others like that?

Ge: in front of those monsters…

Ge: what can I do, besides look on with envy…?

Bo: Bang! This is bad

Bo: at this rate it’ll get outside the forest park!

Bo: there will be casualties in the city!!

Page 119

Bo: at this rate…I won’t be able to walk

Bo: how old do you think I am

Ba: I’ll leave it to fate…

Ba: brother

Page 120

Ba: for the last time in my life, I’ll give it my all

Page 121-122

King: Elder Centipede~!!!

K: yo! Pest!!!!!

K: I’ve brought your target – “Blast”!!!!

Page 123

Ba: !?

Ge: that voice…King!!?

Ge: Blast!?

Ba: what…!

Bo: !!!? Look!!

Bo: it’s stopped chasing and is going towards another direction

Page 124

Elder: Blast…?

King: thaat’s….riiiight!

K: the very one that beat the crap out of you and made you wet yourself, the hero Blast!!

K: if you want to fight him again, come over here!

K: why are you so scared you can’t move?! Straighten up!!! Hey, if you’re about to shit yourself you should go home!

K: a bug like you, you must want to run back underground and suck on your mom’s tits!!!!

Page 125

Association staff: King arrived at the location near S city where Elder Centipede has reemerged!!!

Staff: thank god! It’s King, he’ll have a solution…

Staff: …there are several other heroes onsite

Staff: when I warned him their battle might cause collateral damage and injure the innocent, he told me “I hope you could give me information that can provoke Elder Centipede”

S: he might have wanted to lure the monster to him and fight it one on one.

Page 126

Staff: it sustained grave injuries at the hands of Blast in the past, but escaped with his injuries underground

S: it would be great if we could finish it off this time…

S: even though it’s top secret information, I still told king the past between Blast and Elder Centipede

S: and explained to him if the battle were to become dragged out or increase in scope, it might causegreat disaster for the surrounding areas …

S: what did he say?

S: he just said “understood”.

The roar of the King Engine……

Page 127

K: luring it here so no one else gets involved…

K: finish it off with one shot before it escapes underground

K: damage must be contained…blowing it back into the city is not an option…

K: there’s very limited time to make your decision

K: that’s it

Page 128

K: …

K: …Saitama?

Page 129

K: Saitama~!!!?

K: it’s about to

Page 130

Shot of Elder Centipede charging

Page 131-138

SERIOUS PUNCH

Page 139

Saitama: ah

Page 140

Sai: Genos, is that you?

Page 141

Sai: you really are here

Sai: just like King said

K: by the skin of my teeth…that was a close call…

Sai: it’s all good, we’re here aren’t we

K: huh? Saitama, you sound…happy?

Sai: I feel awesome for some reason

Page 142

Sai: it’s a great stress release after getting owned by you in video games

K (thinking): it’s still bothering him …

K: that’s not it…I thought I told you it’s because of your inflexible, singular approach towards battles

Ge: Saitama sensei, can I ask you a question

Sai: what?

Ge: what am I missing?

Sai: huh

Sai: power, I guess?

Page 143

Ge: …!!!!

Ge: thank you very much

K: aaaaaaahhhhhh…that’s no good Genos…

K: you cannot use Saitama as reference

Ge: sensei has guided my path with his battle

Ge: the symbol of great strength, that is my goal…

Ge: I will be there

Page 144

Ph: Garou…he has finally lost consciousness

Ph: rest easy

Ph: we’ll soon be with Orochi

END

#OPM #manga chapter #chapter 89 #transcript #manga

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago

Text

5e Skree, the Mechanical Shaman build (Awesomenauts)

(Artwork from the Microsoft Store.)

Reject modernity; embrace indie.

Basically screw you my birthday is on the 28th (🥳) so I wanted to do a build for one of my favorite games of all time. And it was basically either Awesomenauts, an Atlas Reactor build (for a game that’s essentially dead btw check out Atlas Rogues it’s great and I love it), or like... an XCOM build? Unless I wanted to make a Killing Floor character build instead. (Also a possibility.)

Oh also: the game is free, so if you want a new MOBA to try out I highly recommend it. It may not be as popular as it was in its hayday and it may be dated, but the characters and gameplay are still top-notch.

As for why Skree? I had a few mains in Awesomenauts and Skree was my... second most played character. My most played was Chucho but believe it or not Chucho is simultaneously too easy and too difficult to make a build for. Like getting a turret and sticky bombs is easy (Artificer lol) but for the life of me I can’t figure out how to get him to ride Ramona. So you get Skree because he’s easier to make. Also because I get to stick every spell with the word “wall” into this build which is fun.

GOALS

I ascend, inta' da 'eaven! - Awesomenauts isn’t your standard top-down MOBA, which means we’ll need to be able to hover for some advanced movement in a platform fighter!

Uhhh... Dat make a big mess - Skree’s a master of continuous damage, with a lightning wand that will bounce to nearby targets... oh and a giant sawblade.

Dey is after me lucky shrines! - Not a day goes by that you shouldn’t pray to your lord. So set down a massive wall to block your foes!

RACE

The great thing about Awesomenauts (as opposed to League) is that since everyone’s an alien I can choose just about any race I want within reason. The downside of this is that it makes choosing races really hard. There’s only one trait that’s well defined about Skree and it is this: he is small.

So how about we powergame like an asshole? Tasha’s has made Mountain Dwarf one of the strongest races in the game for a number of reasons! You can get a +2 in two ability scores of your choice: Charisma and Intelligence will both be key in this build, so increase both of those to start out. You also get Dwarven Combat Training but seeing as we’ll be using magic a lot more than weapons I opted to take Origin Proficiencies instead: this means you’ll get a ton of different tool proficiencies, on top of Mason’s Tools from Dwarven Tool Proficiency. I’m not going to tell you every tool to take (because my god you get 5 total) but I’d recommend Drums and Carpenter’s Tools as those are some of Skree’s upgrades in Awesomenauts.

Of course on top of all of that you have Dwarven Resilience for advantage against poisons and resistance to poison damage, and Stonecunning for expertise on History checks related to shrines! (Or other stonework.) And finally as a Mountain Dwarf you get Dwarven Armor Training, for Light and Medium armor proficiency!

ABILITY SCORES

15; INTELLIGENCE - Even if Skree doesn’t make it known he built all his tools and weapons out of the scrapped Starstorm station. Accidental genius of turning the entire station on is still genius.

14; DEXTERITY - Skree is known for flying around constantly in a game where you constantly have to move to dodge attacks. Also “something something Medium Armor” from our race.

13; CHARISMA - Weazel’s a good voice actor, and even if Skree is a little... stoned out of his mind he’s still got the lovable 80s cartoon personality that Awesomenauts is famous for.

12; WISDOM - You mostly work with machines and a lot of the Awesomenauts are machines, but you still need Wisdom to read that Book of Medicine or to convince a Skroggle to let you harvest their weedlings.

10; CONSTITUTION - Skree is hardly a tank, focusing on backline damage dealing with magic.

8; STRENGTH - See above. Even if you’re fighting with heavy metal it does all the fighting for you.

BACKGROUND

Religion is still religion, even if it’s not accepted universe-wide. The Acolyte background will let you do whatever crazy ritualistic shaman stuff you wish (within reason.) You get proficiency in Insight and Religion as well as two languages of your choice: there’s tons of languages in the universe so pick whichever ones you think will help you communicate with your allies!

Your feature Shelter of the Faithful will let you find others who believe in the god of the machines. (You should probably pick a god from your DM’s setting instead of just worshiping robots.) You and your party can receive service from others in your faith, and you can lead ceremonies in honor of the mechanical gods!

(Artwork by Katonator on DeviantArt.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - WIZARD 1

Starting off this build as a Wizard because if there’s one thing I am it’s inconsistent, so of course I’m starting the “easy fun build for my birthday” with one of my least favorite classes to build. But the main reason for the Wizard starting level is to get access to the Medicine skill thanks to your Book of Medicine, as well as the Arcana skill because you understand the spirit in the machines.

Regardless Wizards get access to spellcasting at level 1. You learn 3 cantrips and 6 spells from the Wizard list:

CANTRIPS

For a close-ranged zapping wand Shocking Grasp will let you taser your foes to keep them away.

Mage Hand will let you make sure that you aren’t losing any solar pickups.

If you need to hide in a bush Minor Illusion can make a bush to hide in. Consider it a tiny totem!

SPELLS

You fly around on a floating disk but unfortunately Tenser’s Floating Disk won’t let you do that. It will give you an easy way to carry either loot or your tools around, however.

To launch either a sawblade or some scrap at your foes Catapult will give you the option to do so!

For some damage overtime look no further than Tasha’s Caustic Brew to cover your foes in acidic Skroggle spit that will Gnaw away at them!

Knockback is a big thing in Awesomenauts; if you need some space then use Thunderwave!

People don’t really like blinds in ‘nauts but Color Spray is still useful if you’re in a pinch.

Silent Image will let you make a bigger illusion, such as a large totem that your enemies will hesitate to run past. It won’t be solid yet but it’s a good place to start with wall creation.

You also get Arcane Recovery, letting you recover spell slots equal to half your Wizard level. The exact details of how this works are detailed in the ability’s description so read that for more details.

LEVEL 2 - WIZARD 2

Second level Wizards can choose their Arcane Tradition and when in space gravity... is a harness. We’ll be going for the Graviturgy subclass from Wildemount to harness that harness! As a Graviturgy Wizard you can Adjust Density of objects (and creatures!) as long as they’re size Large or smaller. You can make an object either twice as heavy or half as heavy: when a creature is twice as heavy they move 10 feet slower and can’t jump as far but have advantage on Strength checks and saving throws, and the opposite is true if they’re light: 10 feet faster and greater jumps but they’ll have a tough time when it comes to Strength. Using this feature does require Concentration however, and will only last for a minute if you manage to concentrate on it for the full duration.

Yeesh that’s a mouthful to say “you can make things light or heavy.” How about some more spells then? The dunamancy Wizards unlock new spells based on their school, so we should probably grab Magnify Gravity since it’s a subclass-specific spell. You should also probably grab Shield seeing as I didn’t give you any ranged cantrips yet. Oops?

LEVEL 3 - WIZARD 3

Third level Wizards can learn second level spells like Misty Step for Fla... right Flash is a League thing... Well you can also grab Flaming Sphere to finally have a “sawblade” that you can move around! Be careful not to hit your allies though!

LEVEL 4 - WIZARD 4

4th level gives us our first Ability Score Improvement: you may notice that we have two uneven Ability Scores, so increase both your Charisma and your Intelligence by 1 to round those numbers up!

You can also learn another cantrip along with two more spells! For your cantrip Sapping Sting is a dunamancy-specific cantrip that can make you trip! It does very little damage but it knocks people prone, finally giving you a ranged damage option! As for leveled spells Levitate is a good way to start making yourself (or others) hover around, and Immovable Object will allow you to turn a nearby object into an unmovable totem to block your foes!

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 1

youtube

(Video by denkles on TikTok. Twitter link.)

What? Did you really not expect it? Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to zap with some Magic Sunballs go for none other than The Genie patron. There’s four different Genie Kind you can choose from, which will alter your powers in various ways. Since you’re zapping people go for Djinni, because Thunder damage is the closest we can get to Lightning.

Regardless you get two benefits at level 1 thanks to your Genie’s Vessel. Firstly you carry around a container of some sort that’s meant to contain your patron; I don’t think saying that they’re contained within a little gem atop your staff is too out of the question. Regardless Bottled Respite will let you teleport into your vessel as an action. The inside of the Drop Pod is cozy, if admittedly a little tight. While inside, you can hear the area around your vessel as if you were in its space.

You can remain inside the vessel up to a number of hours equal to twice your proficiency bonus. You exit the vessel early if you use a bonus action to leave, if you die, or if the vessel is destroyed. When you exit the vessel, you appear in the unoccupied space closest to it. Any objects left in the vessel remain there until carried out, and if the vessel is destroyed, every object stored there harmlessly appears in the unoccupied spaces closest to the vessel’s former space. The vessel’s AC equals your spell save DC, and its hit points are equal your warlock level plus your proficiency bonus. Do note that you can only enter the vessel once per Long Rest, even if you only go inside for a few minutes to buy Space Air Max and some Power Pills.

The more important benefit however is Genie’s Wrath. Once on each of your turns when you hit with an attack roll, you can deal extra damage to the target equal to your proficiency bonus. Since you have a Djinni patron the damage type is Thunder.

Speaking of attack rolls: Warlocks get access to Pact Magic! Eldritch Blast is an Eldritch Blast which lets you roll an attack roll for a blast of Eldritch. Since it can hit multiple targets at higher levels you can consider this your lightning bouncing between targets. For a close-range Sawblade Sword Burst will slice up anyone near you, but it isn’t an attack roll so do note that Shocking Grasp will be able to benefit from Genie’s Wrath, even though it’s a Wizard spell.

As for leveled spells Hex is a good way to amp up the damage, and Distort Value from Acquisitions Incorporated can be a good way to get a bit of solar off your next purchase.

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get Eldritch Invocations like Agonizing Blast to agonize your blasts. You can also get Eldritch Mind because hey we’re multiclassing two spellcasters so advantage on Concentration would be nice; thank you Tasha!

You can also learn another spell like Protection from Evil and Good, because you are still a priest (well, Shaman) who needs to ward off dark spirits.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon and honestly... the only one that makes sense is Pact of the Tome for even more freaking cantrips. To start off Sacred Flame will attack your foes with the light of God, even if they’re hiding behind their turret. Thaumaturgy will let you spook some folk with thunder and lightning as you praise the spirits. And channeling good vibes with Guidance is always helpful.

You can also learn second level spells like Phantasmal Force from the Genie Warlock list, for a totem that only one foe can see. But for that one enemy they’ll believe it to be real!

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 4

Level 4 earns you another Ability Score Improvement. Seeing as we’re doing Warlock stuff more Charisma would help.

But even without Charisma you can still cast spells like Mirror Image to keep yourself safe. And you can also cast Prestidigitation for more small magic tricks. "I and I is gonna find ya man!"

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks can learn another invocation. Sitting around in base to chat isn’t a good idea, but you can chat with your allies regardless of where they are thanks to Far Scribe. You can write names in your Book of Shadows, and write messages to those people through Steam Chat to cast Sending on them!

You can also pick up third level spells and we’ll be getting the first of many walls with Wind Wall from the Djinni list to block projectiles!

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 6

As a 6th level Genie Warlock you can finally fly! Elemental Gift will let you activate flight for 10 minutes as a Bonus Action. You can fly up to 30 feet and can activate this ability a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus. Oh and you get to resist Thunder damage, which is always nice.

You can also learn more spells: to perform more Shamanistic duties Remove Curse will let your friends help themselves.

(Sun Wukong Skree artwork owned by Ronimo Games.)

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation but there honestly isn’t much I want from the 7th level. We’re probably going to swap this out later but for now take Undying Servitude to Animate Dead. Who doesn’t love having a couple of zombies?

But are you sick of your teammates never being around to help you? Then make your own! Summon Aberration will let you summon either Nibbs (Slaad), Max Focus (Beholderkin), or Snork Gunk (Star Spawn) to help you! They’ll stick around as long as you keep your concentration, and have a variety of abilities that you can read in the spell’s description. Just remember that money makes the world go around, and mercenaries don’t fight without being paid in Solar first. (What I mean is you need a 400 gold component.)

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 8

Level 8 will get you another Ability Score Improvement, so you should max out that Charisma since the majority of your levels are in Warlock! There actually isn’t much I want from the Warlock spell list anymore, so for now you’ll have to wait until...

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 9

Hey would it be redundant to get a 20 foot fly speed when we already have a 30 foot fly speed? Well Ascendant Step lets you cast Levitate on yourself at will. While this can be used an unlimited amount of times it does also require your Concentration, so be mindful of that. I’d also suggest replacing Undying Servitude with Otherworldly Leap, because jumping is easy in low gravity! (Unless you’re on AI 404.)

You can also learn 5th level spells like Creation to make an actual real totem! Though it’ll only be 5 feet tall... You can also pickup Seeming from the Djinni list. Skins for everyone! "Shopping Skree!"

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 10

10th level Genie Warlocks can send everyone to the shop in their Sanctuary Vessel. When you use Bottled Respite you can now choose up to five willing creatures that you can see within 30 feet of you, and the chosen creatures are drawn into the vessel with you.

Anyone (including yourself) who remains within the vessel for at least 10 minutes gains the benefit of finishing a short rest, and can add your proficiency bonus to the number of hit points they regain if they spend any Hit Dice as part of a short rest there. You can eject any number of creatures from the vessel as a bonus action, and everyone is ejected if you leave or die or if the vessel is destroyed.

Did you want more spells as well? Too bad; you get the Mind Sliver cantrip. What do you mean we have too many cantrips?

(Skree Announcer artwork owned by Ronimo Games.)

LEVEL 15 - WIZARD 5

Finally hopping back to Wizard to maybe use that Intelligence modifier of yours. 5th level class means third level spell slots, and third level spells in your book! Part of the reason we got rid of Undying Servitude is because you can just get Animate Dead from the Wizard spell list. Other than that I did say I’d grab every spell with “wall” in the title so go take Wall of Sand! People can walk through it, but it blocks vision!

LEVEL 16 - WIZARD 6

6th level Graviturgy Wizards can grab some Pills for the Mind and apply some slows. (Or well, technically knockback.) Gravity Well will cause anyone you affect with a spell to be moved 5 feet wherever you wish! Sure it doesn’t sound that impressive, but this does affect your Warlock spells too!

Speaking of spells: ha ha wall spells go brrrr. Wall of Water is, as the name implies, a wall of water! It slows projectiles, stops fire, and can be frozen solid! If you want to play more with knockback however Pulse Wave is a Dunamancy spell that can either knock enemies away from you or pull them closer!

LEVEL 17 - WIZARD 7

7th level Wizards can get some 4th level spells but I’m going to quickly grab Slow from the third level for a Voodoo Doll... or an Alien Hula Girl. And of course I’m going to take Wall of Fire because... wall.

LEVEL 18 - WIZARD 8

8th level Wizards can get another Ability Score Improvement which means finally you can max out your Intelligence modifier! This means you can prepare more spells like Gravity Sinkhole from the Dunamancy list for a deadly “sawblade” with the pull of a phone booth, and Dimension Door for a quick escape back to base!

LEVEL 19 - WIZARD 9

Hey look at that more spells! 5th level spells too like Wall of Stone and Wall of Force, both of which will be quite a challenge for enemies to get past!

LEVEL 20 - WIZARD 10

Our final level is the 10th level of Graviturgy Wizard for a few things. Firstly your Adjust Density ability from level 2 can now affect Huge objects and creatures, but more importantly you now have Violent Attraction. When another creature you can see in 60 feet hits with a weapon, you can use your reaction to amplify the damage to do an extra 1d10! Alternatively, if someone falls you can actually enable fall damage and make them take 2d10.

You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Intelligence modifier and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Is this a little weak for a capstone? Maybe, but what we’re really here for are spells! You can learn your final two spells... and one more cantrip! So why not grab Mold Earth, for a tiny totem you can spring from the ground at any time. For leveled spells we’ll be grabbing our last wall: Wall of Light... and the other spell with “wall” in its name: Passwall!

There are other spells at 5th level that are probably stronger but I’m sure you can spend some time consulting the spirits to let you learn more spells... as long as you’ve got the Solar for it.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Ah, it be time to get Jammin - Do you like having a lot of options? Well with tons of spells you can prepare, plenty of options for movement and utility, and 12 different cantrips you won’t ever be lacking in an option for any situation.

I want to kill you, everyday and every night - You are easily the king of Short Rests. Warlock slots and Arcane Recovery can allow you to get a lot of your magic back whenever you see fit, so you can adjust your magic as needed.

Dat be epic wit da Capital Epic - You’re sturdier than the average spellcaster too. Good saves for all 3 mental saves and good AC thanks to being a Dwarf.

CONS

I don't remember dat being part of the Metal! - You’ve got a rather silly amount of Concentration spells, notably with some at-will abilities like Guidance and Levitate. Options are nice and all but you can only have one wall up at a time.

Dem play a card on me! - Speaking of walls: we took at lot of spells (especially at 5th level) that were more for flavor than actual practicality. Sure you can pick up new Wizard spells as you adventure along but... Look I’m not saying I’d prefer to cast Haste over Wall of Sand; just that Wall of Sand isn’t exactly an impressive spell.

Weakless fools, why ya makin me do everyting alone? - Half your levels being in Wizard plus a 0 Constitution modifier means your health is likely somewhere around 100. One-shots are cheap and Power Word Kill isn’t fun, so maybe buy some Power Pills Turbo before heading out.

But you can bring a great deal of mechanical magic to any adventuring party or band of mercenaries. Consult the spirits and let your foes see the voodoo you do! Put up walls to protect your friends as you cut through your enemies; if battle is what you need, you’d best see da Skree! And happy (soon to be) birthday to me!

(Skreelator promotional artwork from the Microsoft Store. Artwork owned by Ronimo Games.)

#Awesomenauts #is a #video game #that exists #awesomenauts skree #dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd wizard #dnd warlock

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adverb-slut · 4 years ago

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Breakpoint (Fanfiction) Part 3/6 | Asmodeus

I wrote this back in February, but I keep forgetting to post things on Tumblr, so here it is super late. Thank you to the anon who reminded me to do it! Chapter 4 (Levi’s chapter) has been in the works since February, too ... fret not, it’s coming ... slowly.

As per the usual, you can read this chapter on AO3 here.

Title:

Breakpoint

Summary:

These are the tales of when Belphegor, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Mammon, and Lucifer each decided to actively rebel against their Father and together incite the Great Celestial War.

Genre:

Backstory/Lore

Rating:

Word Count:

3263

Additional Note:

This chapter chronicles the breaking point of Asmodeus!

Previous Chapter:

Read Chapter 2 | Beelzebub here!

“The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the [angels] went to the daughters of humans and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.” — Genesis 6:4

If there was one fact that was surer than the truth that the skies would always be blue, that the mountains would never move, that the sun would keep on shining, it was the certainty that Asmodeus would forever adore his job.

There was nothing about it that he would change, and as far as he was concerned, titular angels, seraphim, cherubim, and archangels, could keep their prestige and fame. They could cherish the fact that there wasn’t an angel that didn’t know their name, and they could revel in the knowledge that the powers they possessed were unlike any other creature before them.

It didn’t matter to him, for he knew, deep in his heart, that there was no career more fulfilling than being a Guardian Angel.

Living for several hundred years already, Asmodeus had been assigned to guard dozens of humans in his lifetime, keeping them out of harm’s way and ensuring that their safety was prioritized above all else. He was friendly with his charges—as all of his kind were instructed to do—but his gregariousness was merely part of the job; it was his responsibility to protect and become close to his human.

However, this all changed with his current charge. He had been assigned to her when she had turned thirteen. The only daughter in a family of seven sons, her mother and her long-since-deceased grandmother had prayed to God for several months to send her a protector, for she was often alone when her brothers and father went to tend the field.

Asmodeus didn’t think much of her when he had first made himself known to her, and she wasn’t particularly interested in him, either. Their initial meeting had been on the day her mother had died, and she hadn’t been in the mood to see visitors as she mourned.

After several weeks, though, the two had slowly become friends. Her mother’s death had left her in charge of the domestic affairs of the household, and she was forced to look after the eight men—nine, including Asmodeus—that shared their cramped tent.

He helped when he could, for it was obvious to him that she was struggling in the initial months. Her brothers occasionally wondered if she was superhuman, because due to Asmodeus’ aid, she was able to get the job done of two people (no one could see a Guardian Angel save for their charges).

It was from her that he learned to appreciate the orgasmic fragrance of flowers and the importance of maintaining an aesthetic, considering in a tent of mostly unruly boys, she was the one who kept things clean and free from disease.

This was all well and good for the first six years. Unfortunately, when his charge had graced the age of nineteen years and four moons, Asmodeus felt something stirring within him.

It was unusual. He realized it was a different feeling than the elation he felt when he went out into the plains and found a lone lily or the way his heart had filled the one time he realized that pinching his cheeks made them the most becoming shade of red.

This type of feeling was strange; it was reserved solely for his charge.

The way her smile was just a bit crooked; the brown, unmarred frontier that was her neck; the attentiveness that she showed her brothers after their long days of labor out in the sun; the fact that her plush lips dripped beeswax colored with beetroot; the ardor with which she maintained a sterile tent; the intensity that her full chest heaved with as she hoisted a bucket of water up from the family well to satiate the animals.

There was no part of her that he didn’t envelop in this feeling.

She was the sun, the moon, the stars.

He couldn’t place his finger on what to call this emotion—it couldn’t be love, could it? As far as he knew, love for an angel was the love their Father felt toward them, a stern disciplinary affection, while what they reciprocated was an unbroken devotion that was ever so slightly tinged with terror.

Whenever Asmodeus looked at her, he felt his cheeks bloom and heart soar; he came to realize that unlike his other humans, this one was one who he chose to guard not out of obligation, but rather due to his care and concern for her wellbeing.

Duplicitous men who approached her in the streets would find themselves suddenly covered in animal excrement, flung upon them by some “unseen hand.” Owners of shops in the marketplace who dared attempt to swindle her, “mysteriously” discovered that some of their wares had gone missing. Even her own father, who once reprimanded her for cutting her long, back-length hair up to her shoulders, was not exempt from Asmodeus’ retribution: the man’s painstakingly plowed fields had been ravaged and his crops uprooted by what he assumed to be “evil spirits.”

He was content not to act upon the feeling in regards to the girl herself—and besides, it wasn’t as if action would get him anywhere. Any interaction between a Guardian Angel and their charges that wasn’t strictly platonic was forbidden, and no angel had been brave enough to even toe the line in that realm of disobedience.

Which made the fact that late one night, Asmodeus found himself completely nude—his sweaty chest heaving from exhaustion and exhilaration—lying on a mat next to his equally drenched and unclothed charge, all the more surprising.

His charge drummed her fingers up and down his arms. “You did so good, Asmo,” she encouraged.

Considering he’d never done that before made the compliment all the more poignant as he turned toward her, propping a hand under his head. “Do you really think so?” He shifted so he wouldn’t be putting all his body weight on his tender wings.

“Yes,” she breathed, sighing happily. She pulled his hand from under his head and nestled it under hers. The woman moved her tapping fingers to his chest, which was lean from doing chores around the tent. “You’re so beautiful.”

He could feel his face flush. He’d never been called that. All his life, he had been conditioned to believe his own appearance wasn’t especially radiant, for he lived in a world where another angel set the standard of beauty. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew Lucifer.”

“Mm,” she mumbled, kissing his face and running her fingertips along the bridge of his nose. “Does Lucifer have as beguiling eyes as you do?”

“I’m not really sure,” Asmodeus admitted. It was rumored that the Archangel of Music had eyes of obsidian, but few had seen him with his eyes opened. Lucifer was an angel that was always engrossed in his music—completely focused on the sound alone—with no need to give heed to what happened around him.

His charge planted a kiss on his cheek, moving her lips down his face until she reached the nape of his neck. “Surely he can’t be as enchanting as you. You, Asmo, are the most beautiful being ever created.”

With every touch, with every word, his blush grew deeper, and he wished that this moment could last forever.

“I lay there, wishing that the moment could last forever,” Asmodeus recited.

It was the next day, and his head hung low to avoid even his peripheral vision from grazing his Father’s glorious light. He found his attention nervously wavering as admired the Calacatta marble flooring of the Throne Room and the soft notes of the flute that Lucifer played from the Almighty’s left side.

His thoughts jumped back to yesterday’s conversation with his charge; he glanced again at the Archangel of Music, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes, but as usual, they were closed in peaceful concentration as the master flutist opened and closed the keys of his instrument to create the most rapturous tune.

Lucifer’s confidence in playing the perfect note every time encouraged Asmodeus to stand a little taller. He stared at his fellow angel and tried to compare their appearances, an insidious thought creeping into his head: was he truly more beautiful than Lucifer?

His musings were interrupted by his Father’s voice, which rivaled a volcanic boom in volume. “Asmodeus, Guardian Angel—what have you done, child?”

His Lucifer-like aplomb melted instantly. He knew his Father wouldn’t ask such a question lightly. He had just finished reciting the prior day’s events, after being called into the Celestial Realm to come before the Throne Room of God. Although he knew that the information he relayed would get him in trouble, he hadn’t expected such a livid reaction.

His Father continued, His glory flashing in and out with blinding brightness, “You have broken the cardinal laws of the Guardian Angels with this lust that consumed you yesterday. The very laws that I created—the very same laws that you chose to defy!”

“Father, I defied Your laws, yes,” Asmodeus admitted. He didn’t know if his defense would be seen as insolence, but considering his Father hadn’t reprimanded him yet, he barreled on. “But, believe me, lust is not the true emotion that overcame me that night.”

His Father’s voice was filled with malice as He hissed, “And what, child, feeling do you determine to have filled you as you made love to that woman?”

“You already said it, Father.” He gulped, once again drawing from Lucifer’s serenity to grant him an iota of confidence. “ Love .” If he could get his Father to believe that lust—what He considered to be the most carnal of sins—did not even remotely influence his actions last night, perhaps His anger would be assuaged.

“Love?” the Almighty thundered. “Child, you cannot love a human. It was I who created them; all their love belongs to Me.”

“It was love, Father,” Asmodeus insisted. He then realized that he wasn’t even lying. The feeling which he possessed for his charge truly was love.

A record was set in the Celestial Realm that day—a record for how bright and furious the Almighty glowed as his Son said those words.

Lucifer’s music was all Asmodeus was aware of as he crumpled to the floor. His hands covered his eyes in desperation, but it was to no avail; he could already feel them burning from the flashing light that surrounded him. Sparks flew in every direction and he could feel embers of fire lick the tips of his sandals.

Despite the sudden torridness of the Throne Room, Asmodeus could feel the ice of dread filling his veins. A terrified, frozen paralysis took over his bones.

He had never seen his Father this incensed—in fact, most angels took great care in not even trying to imagine it.

His Father then spoke, His voice dangerously calm, as if His livid glory wasn’t already in full display. “Look up, foolish child.”

Asmodeus tried to raise his head, but the closer his face inched toward God’s radiance, his shut eyes burned with the blaze of a thousand suns.

God repeated His command, a ravine of heat threading through His otherwise cool tone, which somehow made it all the more frightening. “Look up, foolish child.”

He again covered his eyes with his hands, and even though it did little to prevent the brightness of His Father’s ire from peeking through, he was able to at least tilt his face toward the direction of the Throne.

“Remove your hands and open your eyes,” His Father demanded.

Asmodeus took a deep breath. Was that it? Was his Father going to punish him with blindness for his sin? Because that was what he was sure would happen if he dared take his hands off his eyes. Nevertheless, he did what was asked of him.

He choked as he opened his eyes and saw that instead of only his Father’s bright form standing before him, there was his charge, as well. “But how?” He reached out his hand, gasping when his fingertips went right through her body without her saying so much as a word.

A vision, he realized. Normally, visions were dreams filled with premonitions sent by the Almighty. Often they told of future happenings, but there were times when they would show the viewer what was the current status of events if they were not there to witness them themselves. A typical vision was usually rendered in the mind, but here, in the direct presence of his Father, Asmodeus saw the apparition with his very own eyes.

The Almighty pointed the form of His finger toward a spot on the human’s body, right below her stomach. There in her womb rested a glowing yellow orb.

“Your ‘love,’” his Father spat, “has brought you the responsibility of a child.”

Asmodeus’ heart stopped. A child? His frigid blood thawed, and he couldn’t explain the sudden warm flush that overcame his body. “I’m … going to be a father?”

“Of a child that is half-angel and half-human, yes. I shall call this brand of creature, 'Nephilim',” his Father glowered. “In any case, this cannot stand.”

The warmth in his body immediately cooled. “Come again, Father?”

“I created humans to populate the Earth. Angels were never part of My plan.” God waved the part of His glory that formed a hand, and the vision of the human turned to ash, which dusted the tile floor. “The child will not survive.”

“No, Father, You can’t—” he began, cringing as he heard the defiance in his voice.

“—Consider it the consequence of your lust, Asmodeus.” His Father’s tone was decided. “I will be merciful—even though you deserve justice, instead—and tomorrow, you will return to your charge. She will know nothing of this incident but be forewarned—if this ever occurs again, there will be no grace. Your erasure from the Celestial Realm will be permanent.”

Another vision of his charge appeared before Asmodeus. This time, he was standing next to her as her Guardian Angel, as she wove threads of yarn on a loom. The two figures laughed as if all was well.

Something sunk low in Asmodeus’ stomach. There was nothing more he wanted than to enter in the vision and live his life as it predicted, even if it meant loving the woman from afar.

But his eyes turned glassy as he shook his head. “Father, I beg You. Spare the child.” He breathed deeply, a vow poised on his lips that he, in the next moments, would come to regret. “I’ll do anything. I promise.”

His Father’s glory receded, signaling that the Almighty was on the verge of calming down. “Be careful when you promise ‘anything,’ My son.”

“There is no price I won’t pay.”

“Even your life?”

“Even my life.”

“Your immortal life is worth thousands of human lives.”

“Then my sacrifice should be more than enough.”

The Almighty pondered the statement.

His silence only served to highlight the fact that during this whole encounter, Lucifer had played his flute, not bothering to watch the drama unfold.

Asmodeus had to give the Archangel of Music credit—considering his dedication to his craft, it was no wonder that their Father always yearned to have him by His side. Still, he couldn’t help but find it absurd that Lucifer hadn’t even so much as peeked at the spectacle in the Throne Room; his eyes never opened.

“I will spare your life,” his Father determined. By now, His ire had subsided and it was possible for Asmodeus to face His direction without his eyes watering. “And I will spare your child’s. However, you will never work for your charge, again. You will never see her and she will forget every moment she has spent with you. In her mind, you will never have existed at all.”

Asmodeus gulped and he tasted bile in his mouth. “But what about our child? And the Guardian Angel her mother and grandmother prayed for? Father, You wouldn’t ignore their pleas.”

“No,” his Father boomed. He moved the form of His arm and a third vision materialized.

This time, Asmodeus saw his charge—former charge?—sitting on a bench, again, working on a loom. The bulge on her abdomen was a clear indicator of her pregnancy. On her left stood a man, rugged and muscular with dark skin; his wings proved that he was an angel—her new Guardian Angel. There was another man on her right, who kissed the woman on the lips and rubbed her swollen stomach.

Asmodeus gagged—bodily gagged—repulsion filling his throat, as he realized what was to occur. “You’re allowing that human man to raise mine and her’s child as his own?” He didn’t want to mention the fact that his Father had chosen for her a Guardian Angel that was physically his opposite.

“My son, did you truly believe that you were to raise this child?” the Almighty asked, His voice genuinely puzzled. “You are a Guardian Angel; you live to guard humans that have asked for your protection. You were never created to parent them.”

“How will I ever see my child, then, Father?” While he still couldn’t believe that he had aided in the creation of life, he knew for a fact that he wanted to watch it grow and be there for it.

The Almighty was calm as he said, “You won’t.” Asmodeus felt his heart drop to his feet, as his Father warned, “Remember what I said, My son. Angels were not created to raise humans. If you so much as think of interacting with this child, then I will have no choice but to bind you and slice off your wings. Then you will forever remain in the Celestial Realm, doing the menial jobs of the unspecialized angels.”

Asmodeus felt something inside of him grow cold. Whether he returned to his charge and killed his child or let his child live and lose his charge, he would be giving up his entire world.

“If that’s what I have to do to ensure the child lives, then I’ll take that offer.” There was no emotion in his voice except for pure resignation.

“Excellent.” Suddenly, his Father’s voice became as smooth as honey. Knowing from experience, Asmodeus knew that His next words would be as bitter as gall. And he was right. “Now, My son, we have discussed how we are going to deal with you impregnating a human. It is time for your punishment for your original crime: you slept with your human charge. You say it was love, but I cannot see this purely sexual act as anything other than lust. You know the penalty for that has never been implemented, but it is time. However, My son, I will be merciful to you, once again.” Asmodeus simply stared dully as his Father continued, “My son, I will withdraw the original punishment for this crime from you, provided you understand the error of your ways. Answer Me, Asmodeus, do you regret what you did?

It was only then that warmth bloomed inside him once more, the burning embers of his own ire against the Almighty. His Father could call it what He wished, but his passion for his charge was love, no matter how He twisted it. And that love would always remain for that human woman, wherever she was and whomever she reciprocated the love to.

There was only one word he could answer with.

“No.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me swd #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #adverbslut_writes #fanfiction #fanfic

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