#// SO NO CONNECTIONS!!!! THEY LITERALLY JUST DID THIS IN THE NEW TIMELINE I AM LOSING IT

[demonsfate]

me, who ships sub-zero and scorpion hard and have drawn many fanarts back in 2019: i wonder what changes will be in mk's new timeline!

mk's website:

me:

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Ok no let me explain you a thing.

I can't take it. I literally can't take this moment without making a sound somewhere in the back of my throat. It's the cutest thing ever and it's this frame here that makes it.

Look, I know this is Wan. I know Wan isn't really canon and this is the preschool episode so it's even less so. But there's something in here that is an absolutely canon thing Akutagawa does.

The scene starts off with Akutagawa's typical reverence and excitement that Dazai is sitting near him. Nothing particularly notable there. But then Dazai gets excited by what's going on and Akutagawa gives him this look and I just can't take it man.

Because that's a genuinely fond look. He's happy for him. He's happy Dazai is enjoying himself.

And that's not just a Wan thing. He says along those lines to Kyouka in one of my all-time favourite BSD scenes in general.

It just. I just have a lot of feelings about that. This is a guy who, we know from Heartless Cur and the beginning of Beast, has very little in the way of emotion - but when he does feel, it's rather all-encompassing, even overwhelmingly strong. Things like rage and desperation. It's raw survival instinct.

But then he has. This too.

Here's the thing. In the preschool chapter, silly as it is, Dazai is still fixated on suicide. He has the noose, just doesn't speak about it openly. So, it's probably quite rare that Dazai shows genuine enjoyment the way he did here - and that's worth that small smile.

In the main universe, Akutagawa remembers how Kyouka hated herself to the point of asking to be killed, then sees how fierce she is about defending her new life and self, and decides that he's glad for her.

It really means something to me that one of the very few relational emotions he allows himself to feel is happiness and pride on others' behalf.

It roots itself less in compassion or happiness itself and more in a sense of respect... but remember that Akutagawa hardly gives his respect easily. He gives his respect only to those he considers strong, and in nearly every battle, he finds himself disappointed. What he wants is kind of contradictory - he wants a worthy opponent, so someone who poses a strong challenge to him to prove his own worth as one who will never be weak again... and yet, when they lose against him, he's often disappointed they did not succeed or fight harder, and looks down on them.

Atsushi's motive, or what he initially thinks his motive is, is disappointing to him at first - Akutagawa believes he is trying to prove himself as worthy of living through someone else's acceptance and berates him for it. But that's... exactly what he has been doing. Later on, he continues to question Atsushi for his motives, in yet another of one of my favourite scenes.

He asks him over and over - "why?" And is not satisfied until Atsushi reveals that he's also looking to get rid of the shadow of the orphanage director that follows him like a haunting - that trauma? All that pain thrown in his face? He is fighting to overcome it. He is fighting via proof and change because Atsushi wants to live, and to not have to feel ashamed of that. And that's what it took for Akutagawa to trust him and respect him enough to transfer Rashoumon to him.

I think, on some level, Akutagawa is invested in seeing whether Atsushi will succeed in this. And I think, in spite of everything between them, he will be glad for him if he does.

I just really love this aspect to his character, because while he searches for strength in violence and power and physical skill, it means on a deeper level, he actually sees joy and resistance in the face of despair as true strength that's worth acknowledging.

I want him so badly to accept that as true strength within himself in the main timeline.

I also love it because Beast confirms that Akutagawa would do anything for his sister and I am now free to imagine Gin telling her brother all the things she was learning and how she was slowly connecting to the Black Lizard and feeling overwhelming pride for her but not really expressing that but Gin knowing that's how he felt regardless, anyways that is all

Is this even coherent anymore? Oh well.

[beansmakesthings]

You 🫵

Yes you

Give me your Penny Lamb headcanons (rtc)

Well, if you insist! These are just some random kinda general ones. Some will mention some gore and the accident and some will vaguely reference familial abuse, so be warned!

- Penny had a really rough childhood and was taken from her father indefinitely when she was 10. She's been in the system ever since, as families keep deciding they can't handle the combination of PTSD and autism and gave her back.

- The only biological family she really connected with was her grandmother, who was the one who gave Penny her doll

- Penny wants to be a sheep farmer one day like Gran was before she passed.

- Penny's Metis on her bio mom's side. She doesn't really talk about it much because her mother died shortly after she was born and her father kept her away from that side of her family and Penny never really learned much about her culture. She doesn't really know what all it means.

- This one is kind of a general RTC headcanon, but the way the choir survives the Cyclone after the musical is that Karnak quite literally shifted the timeline. They technically inhabit an alternate universe where the only change is they survive. This means everyone has two conflicting memories of how the accident happened and Penny has very vivid nightmares that constantly switch between losing her head and waking up alive aftermath of the crash with her throat sliced and her neck broken.

- Penny had a sort of identity crisis at 3 am due to these dreams and cut and bleached her hair in Jane Doe fashion. She actually found it strangely comforting to sort of pay homage to the person she was when she found her friends and keeps the look. She didn't like being Jane Doe, but she appreciates what Jane did for her.

- Penny always liked scary movies and stuff like that, but after the accident and the whole Jane Doe debacle she becomes very fascinated with anything morbid and death related as a sort of weird coping mechanism.

- Penny also gets very into the goth, emo, and heavy metal scenes after the accident. She cries listening to Nemo by Nightwish (no I will not shut up about that song)

- Speaking of music, Penny is a life long Marianas Trench fan and when Constance finds out they NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT IT

- Penny had a big crush on Ocean for a while before they started dating, but it was always kind of soured by Ocean acting SO homophobic and SO ableist all the time. It was a huge internal conflict for Penny until Ocean finally turned around, apologized to all the people she'd hurt, and genuinely changed for the better. Penny is actually quite proud of Ocean's progress.

- Penny's hyposensitive to touch and loves deep pressure, squishy hugs, cuddles, and textures. She's notorious for touching stuff without permission when she thinks no one's looking just because the texture looks ✨️feely✨️ (same girl same)

- Mischa is her favourite person to go to for sensory hugs cause he's taller than her and kinda chubby and kinda muscular and he can just envelop her entirely and squeeze the life out of her which she loves.

- Penny really likes Moutain Dew. Mountain Dew of any flavour. The only things she drinks are water, Mountain Dew, and the occasion double-double from Tims. Ocean got her that Baja Blast t-shirt from Hot Topic and Penny wears it every day as pajamas.

- Penny's new family (the one she was placed with after the other one didn't look for her or report her missing or anything at all after the accident) are very nice, but she's incredibly wary of them because of her history. She prefers to be out of the house so she doesn't have to interact with people who are supposed to be parental figures to her.

- Penny loves going to Ricky's, laying on his floor, and being smothered by all his cats while he tells her about Star Trek lore.

- Penny and Noel are the same height, so often times he comes over asking to try on her skirts and stuff to see if they'll look good on him. She has lost half her wardrobe to him.

[wildlyfreemoon]

a casual’s problems with tua s4 (spoilers)

I just… the umbrella academy s4… (spoilers below) -- 4 things i didnt like, and 1 thing i did

like as someone who is a casual viewer and not super involved in the fandom up until this point, even I am like. Dumbfounded by wtv this season was…

five x lila / the stuck in the subway plot

common census shows that the Lila x Five thing was weird but I just think it’s such a shame that they both probably had so much shared resentment for their “upbringing” and the commission and that whole aspect of their friendship/relationship has completely been thrown away in lieu of them getting together

I don’t have a big gripe with five being gone for 7 years and only him knowing that (ie he was gone for 7 years but people think he’s been gone for a couple hours) bc I THOUGHT this would be a way to explain how Aidan (his actor) is no longer a child and doesnt look like a child any more -- but the show explained that by making s4 take place 6 years after s3. but now five should look 26 (13 y/o body in s1 + 6 year gap + extra 7 years in the subway)

... But there was no real reason (at least to me) for Lila to be with him imo

In honesty, i could see five falling for lila, not because i think he truly LOVES her, but because we have seen a similar pattern of behavior before... at a time where he is isolated and alone, he clung to a vaguely humanoid mannequin for comfort and connection. I can see five trying to lean (?) on lila to not lose his sense of self while he's physically lost again... that being said, i dont see why it HAD to be romantic because another aspect of Five's character is that he is EXTREMELY loyal. he literally went 45 years in the apocalypse, constantly trying to get back to his family. and once Five actually reunited with his family, tried to save them, etc. (as i said earlier, i am a casual fan - although i intend to rewatch s1 to erase wtv s4 was from my mind - so i cant pinpoint exact moments where Five bonded with his siblings post traveling back to them, but i know it happens!)

I just think that if five was alone, AGAIN, FOR YEARS, there could have been interesting parallels to his arc/main motivations in the first season — how no matter how long he was separated for, he wanted to get back to his family, to be with them, to save them…

there still could have been a part where he stops for a couple months because he’s so exhausted and has a crisis wondering if he’s meant to be alone, or why he always gets separated (even after finding the book home, he could take another 6 months in his crisis mode — btw the journal showing the way home makes no sense to me like I get that alternate timeline fives made it but how did they know to make a guide back to OUR five’s timeline or wtv)

2. ben's wasted potential

idk i thought there could have been more ben development. his relationship with his siblings.

the way i see it, (sparrow) ben might have wanted his powers back to feel powerful or to feel connected with his (dead) siblings again. he had trouble connecting with the umbrellas who are "close" and know him but he doesnt know them, making him feel isolated.

the show could have showed us how he bonded with the umbrellas, or just in general, not put him in jail for a ponzi scheme for 4/6 years, which FURTHER created a divide between them when they could have just shown subtle nuances about their new formed relationships.

(also have seen posts about ben dying as the monster he - umbrella ben - always thought he was! and like so true but also so painful for them to bring up like thats so... horrid)

3. the jennifer incident

didnt really understand it... like why was she in the squid? i dont understand why the showrunners would invest "time" (no matter how little they spent on it) into creating a whole plot point and character to give jennifer no character, no motivations, no nothing!

imo, they could have just done the "timelines are bleeding into one another" and just said that everything would be erased because every timeline would replace each other or create too much chaos (? if that makes sense), rather than marigold/durango stuff...

i just think it was such a disappointment for them to introduce a new character but not explain the many intricacies about her

i assume that jennifer was miraculously in the squid like the umbrellas/sparrows were miraculously birthed or wtv, but they dont explain why she was so willing to go with and trust ben immediately, or give her literally any motivations or emotions (?)... like she was seen to be protective and caring of her adoptive uncle, just to leave him for ben?? like if ben and jennifer had a connection because tentacle powers and squid girl -- why??!! it just... make it make sense please!

3a. reginald, ben and jennifer

i do think it was interesting for reginald to have 🔫 ben in the original timeline, but for aforementioned, issues with the lack of development on jennifer and the jennifer incident, it overall felt very lack luster

this aspect of the umbrellas and reginald's relationship was super interesting. the fact reginald was so willing and easily killed one of them, further highlights that reginald was just seeing them as a means to an end.

4. the ending

lowkey hated it... because the whole, "the team sacrificed themselves and everything is righted because we never would have existed" thing feels like such a cop out....

like a "it was all just a dream" ending

+1. Klaus being sober and attempting to keep that

like he was sober for 3 years (a huge accomplishment and im so proud of klaus), and despite everyone basically begging him to drink a sake bomb with them in ep 1, he throws it over his shoulder, maintaining his sobriety. even though klaus doesnt stay sober through the whole season, that scene was really nice to me. i remember watching it and hearing klaus say "it doesnt count" and my heart dropping so hard, for it to be revealed he didnt actually take it and make me feel better again.

...then he gets his powers back and feels like he needs substances to cope... which is trigger for him and a normal response.

i dont blame klaus, and while i dont particularly like how the show handled his sobriety and relapse (esp the positions it put klaus through in s4 with like no real impact on the plot, or klaus realising himself -- which there was a whole scenes about klaus being most powerful when he's sober with reginald in s2 i believe?), it was interesting to show how an addict and their actions can effect the people that care about them too (ie how claire reacts). i think they could have had a more nuanced approach, but overall, the initial attempt to stay sober was cool

OMG ALSO!

i thought it was cool how klaus became a germaphobe/afraid of death(?) after being sober. because i thought it was a symbol of how klaus realised he is no longer immortal and can die now, so he becomes overly cautious, realising how he cannot keep living life the way he had. and this translates to his care of claire i thought, because he can no longer talk to the dead either :D

[swaps55]

*screaming into a pillow*

I FUCKING CALLED IT

I KNEW IT WOULD BE KARA

I was literally mulling over the ways Horizon would go a couple of chapters back, when Hannah tells Hackett to send Kaidan to lure Sam out (which I think is a SUPERB twist, by the way, but more on that in a moment), and while I was not expecting Muriel Aslany to shatter my heart before you even got to the meat of the Horizon mission, goddamn if I'm not sitting here vibrating impatiently for the next chapter because SWAPS HOW COULD YOU?

I mean, I know how, it's brilliantly done and you should be so proud of it oh my God but HOW?

I CANNOT WAIT for an eventual Pendergrass POV now. She's the perfect "person on the inside," as it were, and you set it up so well. This line in particular really sells it: "Yeah, she's not nearly as oblivious as she seems. She's just good at not seeing what she doesn't want to." Pendergrass is about to see so. many. things. that no one wants to see. That she's not going to have a CHOICE but to see. Is she going to be up close and personal for the... emulsifying? En-goo-en-ing? (whatever you want to call turning people into a human reaper via sludge-based means) Whatever happens to her in there, she's going to process it and deal with the fallout so differently than anyone else in the cast would, and I am here. for. it. I'm so excited to see how her arc plays out.

(Also, Kaidan telling Aslany to keep her out of trouble and then THIS? We're gonna gloss over it but it done did hurt my heart and you should know)

Okay, back to Hannah for a second. So, in this version of events, Hannah Shepard is directly responsible for sending Kaidan and the gang to Horizon. If she doesn't intervene, THEY DON'T GO. She goes through the motions of learning Sam might be alive and thinks, "give him something he wants," looking at it through Sam's SOLDIER'S perspective. Because she only knows the soldier.

And as a result, she puts three of Sam's most beloved people directly in the line of fire, throwing all three of them at the mercy of genocidal bugs. In one fell swoop, she has completely unmoored him, and HE'S NOT EVEN THERE YET! He doesn't know! The main tether he could have had connecting him back to Sam the Person (TM) has been cut and he doesn't even know it yet and his mother was the reason why.

"If that is my son, I want him back."

Ma'am, if those three die, I don't think Sam comes back. Where he's at right now, I'm even willing to go so far as to say I don't even think SHEPARD would. I don't think Anderson or Garrus or any of his other friends save him at that point.

Mezzo!Sam is already fucked up ten ways from Sunday, I don't want to imagine the alternate timeline where he loses them all basically right after he wakes up. That's a bad reality.

I am so so so SO tempted to ask you if Sam ever finds out she was responsible for the gang being on Horizon. To ask you if he does find out, if he forgives her for using them as bait. How does that change their estranged relationship? Hell, I want to know if KAIDAN finds out, how he'll react. I will be patient. I will wait to find out. But I am DYING to know. It is SUCH a gut punch for Hannah to be such a big part of the reason Horizon happens the way it does. I'm enthralled. It's masterfully done. I want every damn reader of this fic to stand and applaud you.

God, the next chapter's gonna hurt bad, isn't it? How dare you make me feel my own feelings

...I'm so excited tho

I'll end this ask on an actual ask for once instead of just enthusiastically yelling: what are the 'Yang gang's favorite toaster pastry flavors? A new Opus!verse Pivotal Food Item (TM) just dropped, so I figure I should get in on the action while they're fresh and hot (out of the TOASTER, Pendergrass)

I have been sitting on this ask ONLY because I wanted to give folks a chance to catch up if they didn't want to be spoiled, but please know this DELIGHTED me.

It had to be Kara. For a lot of reasons that . And you are correct, it is a BAD reality if Sam loses all three of them. He doesn't come back from that.

Re: Hannah Shepard, I have given a LOT of thought to the questions you posed about whether or not Sam and/or Kaidan find out, and how they react, or would react. I think I have the answers to both, and they will be covered eventually in Opus.

And the poptart question!

That whole scene is actually a nod to a post I made eons ago about exactly this question, and it remains the best breakdown of the 'Yang gang's personalities to date.

[just-a-normal-regretter]

Dagnabit now I wanna write magical Odd shenanigans. But. I have so much to write.

So a few things that would happen. Probably.

The reason Odd takes Kiwi with him to Kadic is because it hurts to be without him. Literally. Being too far away from your magical animal companion would hurt. Minor aches at first but with a slow escalation. (I. I just like angst sometimes. But Odd gets pretty far away from Kiwi at times. So... Connection with issues involving distance.)

Odd can only transform with Kiwi. Luckily Xana doesn't know shit about magic otherwise the zombie thing would have been. So much worse.

Jim's companion isn't dead. He never had one. He had a different kind of magic thing. He can't transform anymore because his prerequisite broke. This didn't hurt him. Odd is jealous. Jim refuses to talk about it because I refuse to clarify. I don't know and neither will anybody else. (Little does Odd know that Kiwi will live. So long. Kiwi will only die when Odd does because I don't like angst that much.)

The Lyoko gang finding out is like. Worst case scenario to Odd. It means things got bad enough that Xana finding out is a minor concern. Once Xana is gone Odd will tell them but until then better hope it never comes up.

Odd has no idea what he's supposed to use his powers for, or even what all they are. All he knows is that he sees the future sometimes. (It felt wrong in Lyoko. It wasn't set up right. It shouldn't freeze him in place. Jermie did him a favour getting rid of it in this verse.)

Jim figures out Odd has magic, because he literally feels like so much of the stuff (Odd can feel the remnants on him too but has no clue other. All Odd knows is that this is the adult he trusts most ever). He mentors Odd while explaning nothing. (He might remember the returns he might not. He refuses to talk about it. Because of course he does.) Odd questions why Jim is teaching him all these cool flips and balance tricks that can double as self defence. Odd gets no answers.

Odd does have a magic weapon. It is literally a gun attatched to his wrist. He is thrilled when he figures it out.

Odd's magic kind has a downside. If he doesn't transform often enough he gets stuck as a cat for a while. A stray cat is frequently seen roaming the school grounds. A friendly thing that Jim refuses to try to get rid of. He brings people he likes (and Kiwi) mice sometimes. Sissi got a live one once (it was cute and clean, and she got it a nice new home because mice are cute. This one was friendly).

(I'm gonna send another ask in soon, I just don't wanna lose this. Also hi I am both the original anon and the magical Jim one. I am just shy.)

Howdy anon, I'm sorry that it took a bit to get back to this. Life has been a rollercoaster of emotions and my computer is not very cooperative with its keyboard so it's been annoying trying to type on it when it likes to either double input or eat my keyboard inputs in general haha

I'm marking this with a 'read more' just to quote the second half of the asks so I don't do a back-to-back answer yeah

I am also hoping this works and it doesn't just eat an ask again (cause I'm pretty sure it did to another ask a while back lol)

Magical Odd from the shy Anon part 2: electric boogaloo.

I think, depending on how the Lyoko group finds out (and when in the timeline) things will go differently and reactions will range several different directions. I haven't decided how and when that will go down. But if they find out the hard way with a bunch of stress involved there will likely be hard feelings. All I know is if Xana finds out Xana will use the cat instincts against Odd. Xana refuses to fuck with actual magic that has a chance of breaking the computer.

Odd does not know if magic messes with machines, and so long as Aelita is tied to the computer he refuses to find out. No accidental fucking up Aelita for him. (He worries about this a lot less when they find out she is a girl that got trapped and not actually an AI.)

In this, Odd would probably be magic to fight something horrific. The sheer terror is how he finds out he can temporarily turn his friends into Lyoko form. He can only do it one at a time (some focus required, and more than one is super hard. Technically possible, but by golly does he hate it to the point of refusal) and it makes the Magic Lyoko form really frilly. Jermie refuses.

Odd's powers have no rhyme or reason. He doesn't know why. Jim has no clue either. (The reason is because I like the anime trope of pulling out new powers as required. Odd's unique magic power is literally adaptability. He can't repeat half the magic tricks he pulls off and it drives everyone nuts. Xana would extra avoid messing with this bullshit, specifically because of the uncontrolled adaptability.)

Odd's parents know. Odd's family sends Kiwi's food frequently. Jim turns a blind eye.

The reason one of Odd's unchanging powers is seeing the future is because if you predict an event you can adapt better.

Once Odd starts facing his threat the entire school politely pretends not to notice. The one power Odd did not get was the ability to be unrecognized. They all work together to gaslight gatekeep girlboss the world away from his identity. Eventually Jermie and Aelita hack magic just enough to get him a mask and everybody breathes a sigh of relief. (Magic allowed it because it really likes these two.)

Ironically. Jermie would be the easiest one to magical backup. Odd would easily be able to get another backup if he got Jermie first.

Maybe Xana and Franz's shenanigans messed up reality enough to let some demons into their world or something. All the supercomputer stuff Jermie and Aelita pulled (ironically) starts to repair the rift. Something like that. I haven't decided yet IDK.

Anyway. I bet Sissi is like. Odd's biggest fan but only in costume.

The Lyoko gang has no idea the entire school knows. Jermie has suspicions. Odd is thinking he has the perfect disguise. Odd's clothes don't even change besides to accommodate the tail and limb changes. (Cat legs cat legs cat legs. Idk why just. Cat legs seems like a fun concept to have baby Odd adapt too.)

I will immediately put out there that juggling stories is rough so I feel you anon. It's fun to try to tack on more concepts to the ideas that come into your brain but when it comes to trying to write them all out it gets messy haha

The Kiwi attachment is pretty neat, as well as the general cat transformation as a con for not using the powers. I do wonder if Odd can find ways to use his powers in secret without worrying about revealing himself on accident to people who don't know

The ambiguity of Jim in general is hilarious and it feels pretty in character. He's willing to help but only so much when it may reveal pieces of his past that he doesn't want to recall/explain.

Sissi getting a pet out of this mess is also cute ;-;

The magic being constant adaptability but not really helping Odd (beyond Future Flash) is so chaotic it's great. He gets to whip out the 'necessary power of the day' to defeat the monster of the week and it doesn't really register to him that 'oh my power isn't really hiding me is it'.

I like to think the gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss shenanigans happening post-reveal is just the Warriors taking it upon themselves not to really tell Odd that he's not being subtle anymore and it's getting out of hand. The rest of the school joining in to help piece by piece is also p funny (and sorta lines up with what I wanted to do in 'Trio are AI' so I'm always going to be down for the school to support one way or another) and Jeremie being the only sane one re: 'oh other people are realizing this too' -> convincing Aelita to help him figure out magic so they can help Odd is so good.

Thank you for the asks anon and I'm sorry it's been too long with replying n all

I'm slowly trying to get stuff figured out and in the meantime inspiration is always iffy given my hyperfixation is like, never consistent enough haha

Still down to take asks/answer some speculations behind my mentioned AUs (given I've seen people still liking the other ones in the meantime lmaoo)

o7

[arigatonamuse]

another week, another A3! re-read notes post

this time it's

Act 2 - A SUMMER of Overcomings! (pt1)

(warning: there's some Tenma salt, i'm sorry, it took him a while to grow on me and this re-read reminded me why)

Chapter 1

i am once again thinking about the A3! Timeline (someone stop me please)

Sakuya’s toast makes me so emotional

eheheheh Sakyo’s survey 

Tsuzuru: “who did you scout?” Izumi, knowing full well that Tsuzuru’s annoyed by Kazunari: “teehee it’s a surprise!”

ksdjbvhdfvf i would love to see Tetsuro on stage

also smh Tsuzuru there are characters who don’t talk in stage, not everyone has to have lines (for example: Kattrin in Brecht’s Mother Courage and Her Children)

Chapter 2

heheh Kazu and Yuki time

ah Kazu beloved… you can afford to be a lil less shallow with Mankai, i promise honestly i do think that his reason for joining is okay? like yeah you can join into / try new things just because, but Mankai wasn’t in a position to afford that back then

fdgfchgvjhbk Kazu come on I do love how he didn’t lose his energy with the info that Yuki’s a dude 

oh Yuki my dear Friendly McExtrovert won’t even be your biggest problem regarding troupemates in this arc

MUKU IS HERE

Tsuzuru vouching for Kazu despite everything

but also guys please don’t ignore my baby boy

baby boy

good, Muku, speak out for yourself!

It’s so weird to hear Muku and Yuki call each other by their last name now

Muku bby you haven’t auditioned yet, please don’t talk like that

Tenten!

Chapter 3

Tenma wtf’s up with that attitude you literally just went inside

Honestly i admire Izumi’s patience with him, i would’ve gone “look do you wanna be here or not?”

sdkhvbdfhv Yuki’s me

pot, meet kettle

istg if you don’t wanna be there you can just leave

Kazu you’re just calling him a nepobaby

i’m glad Yuki keeps calling him out, and even gladder when he did it after Muku felt like he had to apologise bc of his sigh

Muku bby no one said that

thank you, Yuki and Izumi

hm i’m puzzled about this line bc i did hear it change? I wonder what Izumi said in japanese

Chapter 4

kdbvhsdbvkd Yuki at least Izumi held an audition this time around

no one’s forcing you to be there! shut up!

mmmmm i don’t like this line

also idk if Tenma’s problem is not knowing how to read the room or just… knowing how to read it and not caring

ITARU AND CITRON FUDANSHI REAL?

haha hello fourth wall leaning Also Tsuzuru, you’re literally an RPF writer, you have no room to talk

the impulse to call Tenma a culicagado

thank you, Izumi

something something Sakuya’s acting having inspired THE Tenma Sumeragi

“halfway decent” those weren’t your words in Ep 1 Ch 35

why are you like this

Sakuya you’re too cute ;w;

Chapter 5

I do love how Kazu mentions Tsuzuru as a reason to stay at the dorms something something longing for a genuine connection something something Tsuzuru being important to him already

I’m glad Izumi double checked with the parents even when the kids tell her they have permission

i’d forgotten just how endearing Muku’s dad was 

it would’ve been interesting to see Kazu and Yuki as roommates

“Savage, but valid!” is actually one of my fave reactions to things

but also something something Kazu being a people pleaser something something letting people walk over him and be “savages” to him because he’d rather take it and say it’s “valid” than to upset someone or rock the boat in any way

Chapter 6

SUMI TIME

ROOM 202 MY BELOVEDS

Chapter 7

i can’t contain my smile i love Sumi so much

i love Muku so much too

Kazu being friendly despite not knowing if Sumi’s a ghost or not will always make me feel warm

also i wanna highlight the fact that these people are barging into his space and screaming their lungs out and Sumi’s reaction is to offer them triangles you can’t get more kind hearted than that

I have the softest smile on my face just watching Misumi’s sprite slide around the screen

when a rando breaks into your dorm do you a) call the cops b) ask him to join your theatre troupe

i’m glad Izumi made the choice she made but it’s still so funny to me

ngl tho i do wonder if her choice has anything to do with the fact that Sumi just admitted that he has nowhere else to go

kinda wanna write a piece on the dehumanisation of Misumi now

Kazu and Muku the sweetest boys ever

Citron and Misumi being friendly to one another makes me feel so warm inside

Chapter 8

honestly i think that, for his first time, Yuki did pretty okay

(Muku was too anxious but still i do appreciate the effort very much)

MISUMI ACTING! 

i will forever love the change between normal Misumi and acting Misumi

Misumi’s voice in his first etude w Tenma is so hot 

Chapter 9

i love how Kazu treats Sumi so much, even when he asks something that seems airheaded like the “what’s Summer Troupe” question, Kazu takes his time to explain everything to him ;w;

okay i’d forgotten how cute their relationship was, they got me smiling like a fool now

i love Yuki’s comments and comebacks at Tenma so much this one’s one of my faves

this is an interesting line and i’m so curious about what it says on japanese i know he’s talking about manga, but tbh when you say “comic book hero” i think like Superman (or maybe it’s the MAWS brainrot) and i kinda doubt that’s what Muku meant here?

Chapter 10

is it me or are there… “mkyk could be victims of homophobia” implications here?

NO MUKKUN THAT’S NOT WHAT YUKI MEANT (he’s thinking the other way around)

it IS very cute that they all arrived together 

honestly? yes, Muku, you should call an ambulance unless someone at Mankai has training to deal with it, you should call an ambulance (i am doing my best so i don’t go on a rant about what to do in emergencies based on my first responder training)

Sumi, no don’t feed an unconscious person, please don’t put anything in their mouths

Izumi i love you but that’s not how it works (says the person who faints and gets up a couple minutes later)

See, even if he’s just sleeping, the fall could’ve caused some damage to his body, so he does need to get checked

sorry Izumi but i’m with Matsukawa this time around, the generational gap IS something to be dramatic about

i LOVE how Kazu has got the solution for this, we love a nerd 

Chapter 11

maaaaan i’m so emo at Muku’s general perception of himself his teammates were nice to him and seemingly just wanted to see him more often? but Muku still thinks he disappointed them and says that him possibly being a track star is silly and *cries*

also i don’t wanna be a nag but i think Muku should’ve told Izumi about his injury when he first joined, the practice could’ve maybe made it worse and i would HATE to see that happening (trainer brain: on)

Muku’s such a team player and someone who cares so much about others i love him

yEAH THEY STILL CARE ABOUT MUKU and i’m so upset about Muku not seeing it

Muku my boy, those kids seem to genuinely care about you, i don’t think they’d laugh at you

yes, thank you Izumi

YES IZUMI! i love how she hypes him up in this way

sobs in Floral Prince

he’s such a cutie

Chapter 12

oh man i’d forgotten how stiff Yuki and Muku’s acting was at the start

i feel so bad for Muku his anxiety is so bad ;-;

hm i do know that Muku’s always been timid and anxious but now i’m wondering if maybe his anxiety got worse after he had to quit track

i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper HE’S SUCH AN ASSHOLE TO MUKU I CAN’T

everyone coming together to comfort Muku, thank you

THE START OF MISUMI GIVING TRIANGLES FOR COMFORT

Chapter 13

y’know i don’t get why “amateur” is a bad thing

i DO appreciate Tenma’s respect for Sakuya and trusting him with this 

have you never heard of synergy?

what kinda directors has he had ‘til now to think like this????

lol i love Izumi’s reaction to his proposal

he’s so proud of it too lmao 

Chapter 14

this kinda nitpicking i can stand i’m finally starting to relax lol

oughhhhh this line says so much about how Kazu performs in social environments too and aaaaaaaaaah Something something Kazu understands and sticks to his role of paripi but he stays on the surface and never tried to go deeper with / make something more significant out of any of the relationships he has

hey how much do y’all wanna bet that Kazu knows the right answer to this but acted like he didn’t?

Sumi giving Muku triangles makes everything right in my life

Muku is such a good boy he works so much and cares so much and and and ;w;

Chapter 15

oh i will need some mental strength to make it through this chapter

spoilt brat. 

oh An’s gonna have a field day with this line lmao 

fucking spoilt brat.

thanks, Yuki

i’m clenching my jaw so hard just to get through these scenes

ah this line

i know that it’s true, i know that Kazu knows it’s true but holy fuck this line always stings so bad

AND KAZU’S REACTIONS MAKE IT WORSE! HIM NOT KNOWING WHAT TO SAY AND TRYING TO BRUSH IT OFF STING SO BAD

my chest is actually in pain rn

Kazu having no way to defend himself against that comment because it’s true, and he knows it’s true, and any reaction he could have, be it going along with it or getting angry and defending himself, would prove that Tenma’s right and it would make Kazu’s mask slip completely 

Chapter 16

Izumi is so much better at being a caring adult than i am

she’s also way kinder to Tenma than i would be ngl

which i guess was needed because we’re finally at the point where he starts getting better, thanks to her kindness and understanding

something something people grow and thrive better in a caring and understanding environment

okay i’m finally calm with this whole situation

Chapter 17

seeing Tenma try is so nice, actually, i’m relieved

YEY MUKU FOR MAKING IT 

for once i do feel like Izumi, i can’t stop smiling either

Chapter 18

heheh fireworks (let’s ignore the fact that i don’t like fireworks because i do like this part very much)

sdkvhbhdfbv Kazu and Yuki being little shits is so fun

okay yeah Tenma’s very cute in this scene, him being both naive AND showing that he cares about the rest in his fear? good shit

Kazu is so right about Tenma missing out on school activities being a sad thing him being the one to point it out makes me wonder if he’s either speaking from experience (having focused so hard in his studies that he didn’t get to enjoy the social parts of middle school) or maybe just projecting? either way, i think this is a nice line to read with the knowledge we now have about Kazu, it kinda foreshadows the reveal that’s gonna come soon

oh i am SO fighting Kusumi for this one

LIKE LITERALLY WHAT WAS THE REASON WHY WOULD YOU NOT LET YOUR SON GO ON THOSE TRIPS? I DON’T SEE ANY REASON FOR THAT OTHER THAN PURPOSEFULLY BEING SHITTY IT’S NOT LIKE HE CARES ABOUT MISUMI BEING AROUND ANYWAY

Sumi sounds so happy when he brings up being nc with his family but then you look at how he feels about Madoka and… yeah ;-;

yes, thank you Kazu

i was gonna say Tenma was being tsun when he said they weren’t friends (yet) but he IS right, they’re not friends at this point, they just started being friendly

this scene (and CG) made me laugh a lil from joy

Chapter 19

oh Kazu… this… hm… (this is where i insert my “Kazu flirts to keep people at a distance” hc)

Yuki’s disdain for all things romance my beloved

for once we agree

i do appreciate that the messages all the boys send are vague enough to be interpreted as not flirty

except what Kazu wrote for Yuki, that one’s just annoying

Good intuition Izumi

hm do you guys think Kazu’s “making up for lost time” line applied to himself too? because him being the one to initiate the gossip session makes me feel like it does

Yuki’s disdain for all things romance my beloved (2)

ngl i always found the wording here a bit weird like he’s specifying about who he does like when he’s trying to clarify something about who he doesn’t like? my only guess is that it’s like this for the audience’s / fandom’s sake

everyone validating Yuki’s masculinity is so important to me, actually

wording here is also weird but it feels more in character 

Sumi you’re too cute, never change please

n e ways this feels too yume-bait for me so i’ll stop commenting

Chapter 20

heh Sumi recognising Yuzo is so cute to me do y’all think Yuzo ever babysat him? i think that’d be cute

it’s very interesting to me that Yuzo’s criticism of Muku is not that he was bad or wrong in any way? but that he was gonna get overshadowed

hell yeah Yuki deserves all the praise for his work

Kazu too! He’s so talented

i love the designer duo, even if Yuki said no to teaming up and being a designer duo

[lemonlurkrr]

@aureateart​ ok. My favourite parts of twilight princess  (and some other random thoughts about TP sprinkled in there) taken from my monster TP word vomit google doc :

Link lmao

Ok but for real, I like this incarnation of Link :)

I love Ordon (it just seems like such a chill and cozy village)

ALSO love how easy it is to interpret Link as being a sort of older brother figure to the Ordon kiddos. It’s just,, super cute? AND GHHH nice nice good thanks nintendo for giving me characters to care about/characters that I can imagine Link caring about

He didn’t sign up for any of this (tbh, none of the Links really signed up for this jshdjsd). But I mean like, dude was just going to take a trip to castle town, drop a gift off for the royal family, and come back. But haHA oopsies he did get to castle town eventually but definitely not the way he expected hsjdhsd

He’s just a little dude?

AND FUCK. HE REALLY HAD NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF ORDON UNTIL ALL OF THAT

everything is new for the player AND Link

Midna

She’s cool :)

she really just

*teleports into your jail cell* hello whore.

I am no master at writing but AYYYY she do got a character arc!!!

She was actually pretty helpful sometimes, I ALWAYS checked in with her before turning to a game guide

Other NPCs

NICE

Love all of the TP character designs (ASHEI’S ARMOUR??? AOWOAOAOOAO)

Saving Zelda and all of Hyrule was important yea but thinking back maybe it was more like, the Ordonians and the kids were what was pushing Link to keep on going

I like the Resistance members :) Very video gamey of them to have one NPC assigned to each dungeon but hey!!! Kinda cool getting to see a little glimpse of each of em

Idk, it’s just fun to imagine Link popping into Telma’s bar after each dungeon and taking a little rest :) (or to celebrate? maybe just chat, idk, give this man some downtime!!)

Honestly it was just kind of nice that Link wasn’t entirely alone. I mean, I know Midna was there the whole time, but I am always for giving Link a big group of friends (see my love for hyrule warriors, age of calamity, and LU LMAO)

Hero’s shade, very very cool, kinda sad he died with regrets but HEY. He got to pass on his knowledge eventually

AND the connection to OoT?? AND assumed to be related by blood too????? GOOD SHIT

Ilia, I REALLY really wanted to like her (er, it’s not like I dislike her, she’s just,,, kinda there for me).

It definitely seems like Nintendo was pushing to make her the romantic interest, but GHHHHH they really threw that out of the window for me by having her lose her memories

I saw a text post a while ago that said it would have been interesting if Ilia was Link’s sister instead and YES!! That would have been cool too :0

Wish we got to know Zelda a little more

I feel like we barely know anything about her

Idk man, like I said earlier, I never really had any sort of drive to save Zelda during my playthroughs

She obviously knows Midna, so maybe if they gave us just a little bit more of that relationship I’d be more interested in her?

TP WORLD BUILDINGGGG

Botw has good world building too, but each race felt kinda,,, isolated? I absolutely love the different architecture and vibe each town has (and all the the weapons too) but ghhh yea everyone felt so separated. As far as I can remember, we don’t see tooo much of the races interacting with each other? Now that I’m typing that out maybe that’s to be expected because of the calamity but KLSJDKJFD ANYWAYS THIS IS ABOUT TP

The world feels nice and alive, love how populated everything is

Castle town I like castle town a lot, it feels dense and busy and I really like how you can’t talk to every NPC you see

Very cool very fun that we got to see the Gorons hanging out in multiple spots

kinda wish we got to see the Zoras a little more (I guess they are a bit limited since they need water but GHHHH the tp zoras are so prebby,,)

BUT HEY, I do remember seeing a zora or two hanging out in the hot springs around death mountain after beating the lakebed temple (I think, might have been a different dungeon) 

but aaaa would have been nice to see them in at least a couple of other places. I think it would have really added to the “congrats Link!! You’re restoring peace to Hyrule” feeling you get from seeing the Gorons hanging out in Kakariko and Castle Town

ORDON

Love how chill it is and how it’s kind of separate from Hyrule proper

They really do seem to be doing their own thing apart from the rest of Hyrule

Just kinda adds onto the “he’s just a regular dude minding his own business” kind of vibes I get from TP Link

Also I like Ordona :)

THE LIGHT SPIRITS,,

Love their design

And love how they’re not exactly like a pure white?

Different spirit representing each aspect of the triforce my beloved

But yes hi I think Ordona is very cool

Who are you, how did you get here, which goddess do you represent? Do you even represent one of the three golden goddesses? Do the Ordonians know about you? Have any of them ever SEEN you??? Do they worship you? Does anybody even know about the existence of the light spirits?? FUCK so many questions but ghhh I like how they broke the status quo a bit by throwing in a fourth spirit :)

I feel like this one is kinda weird but I like that voice sample they used in the light spirit music. It’s spooky and pretty at the same time :)  

cutscenes mmmmm

Ok ok, the spooky lanayru cutscene is very good

BUT THE “Link, Chosen Hero! Lend us the last of your power!” CUTSCENE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IT SO MUCH

IT just

Idk man

It just hit different

I like the music

And seeing the light spirits swimming around in the light juice water whatever it is

Summoning the light arrows?

AND HHHHH “Lend us the last of your power!” THIS IS IT. This is the final battle.

Seeing Zelda bow down, and then Link putting his hand out 👌👌👌

Link: ok bud, let’s do this together :)

Connection to OoT (did I already mention this? Maybe., Whatever)

Very cool nintendo :)

I love seeing connections between all the diff zelda games.

Because like, on one hand, they’re all separate from each other because of yknow, individual hero stuff. BUT ALSO, they’re all connected because of the reincarnation stuff

Grrrr walking through the sacred grove and going “The Hero of Time walked around here a long time ago” FUCK THATS SO COOL

Is the Hero’s Shade watching me? What does he think of me? DIsappointed? Proud? The Hero of Time went through HELL so this timeline didn’t have to deal with any of the shit Ganon was gonna pull with the triforce, better not fuck this UP Link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Midlink is cute

Kinda hurts that she smashed the mirror but that was probably so Nintendo didn’t have to worry about people going “but what about the twili??????” for any of the other games LMAO

BUT ALSO LIKE SKJDKLJFJ There are some pretty massive plot holes in TP anyway so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever it’s fine we’ll just use this for angst because GOD do y’all like angst

So is Shadlink

Honestly don’t know where this ship came from but it’s cute so whatever

THE MUSIC??

Love Midna’s theme and how they referenced the dark world theme from ALttP (I remember trying to learn the dark world theme on the piano and doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point meme at the little jingle I recognized from Midna’s theme)

Hyrule field theme SLAPS.

Apparently references a couple of the other over-world themes from the previous zelda games (I got this from 8-bit Music theory’s video on the over-world zelda themes, he talks about TP at around 11:40 but def recommend watching the whole video if you’re into music analysis stuff)

So there’s this bit of the Hyrule Field theme, I don’t know the official name for it but I remember seeing somewhere it being called the “at an advantage theme” since yeah, you hear it during the boss music whenever you expose their weak points. FUCKINGGG LOVE THAT. Didn’t notice it during my first playthrough, but hearing it during my second was like a little easter egg for my ears every time :)

Midna’s lament is very pretty (and fun to play on the piano)

COURAGE THEME.

I didn’t care for it too much when I started playing the game but hearing it in ZREO’s arrangement of the Hyrule Field theme literally makes me turn into a puddle of emotions. Also hearing it around and of the Ordon kids (I think it plays after Link saves Colin) AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Orchestra piece #1 and #2 HOLY SHIT???????????????? 

Literally, the first time I listened to those I just,,,, plugged in my headphones, volume 100, layed on the floor/against my desk and silently vibed. I don’t know what the hell it is, but those two just fit so well with TP?? I still avoid listening to them nowadays cause if I DO I definitely will get overwhelmed with the “god I love this game so FUCKING MUCH” kind of feels.

Wolf link sucks at singing

the first time I heard him howling Zelda’s Lullaby I lost my shit because LKSJLDKSGLKJFSKG god that was.,, Bad. Anyways, hearing him howl some of the songs from OoT was cute :)

TP STAFF ROLL??? 

VERY GOOD. IT’s like 10 minutes long and GOD do I love every single second of it. It doesn’t have the same energy as the skyward sword staff roll or the orchestra pieces but GOD does it hit good??

Nice and calm after that big exciting adventure. Maybe it would have been more fun or emotional to have a higher energy piece but it was really nice getting to sit back and watch the camera fly around Hyrule. Seeing like, the Gorons and the Zoras having a good time, the kids returning to Ordon? GOOD SHIT.

and AAAAA that end, when you hear the main Zelda theme and see Link riding off out of Faron woods on Epona… good shit. It gets you thinking, where the hell is he going? What is he doing? Off ot do more adventuring? Going to help out the resistance or something? Going to help Zelda? Or maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to restore the mirror of twilight? Whoooo knows.

hhHHHHhhh it’s just that final reminder that YES!!! YOU JUST PLAYED A ZELDA GAME. JUST ANOTHER STORY APART OF THE WHOLE EPIC OF THE ZELDA SERIES AS A WHOLE

I also want to acknowledge the instrument/samples they used for all the twili stuff.

They’re all just so unique and contrast SO well with the rest of the TP OST. LIKE FUCK!! Anytime I hear the screech from the Twilit Kargarok? Sends a shiver down my spine. I associate those sounds SO strongly with the twili realm. (Like, the same way you associate the BSHEWW VVWWMMM sounds with light sabers)

I love it so god damn much

literally any time there’s a certain sound or motif associated with something I lose my shit

Sacred grove sacred grove sacred gro-

lovely lovely lovely so much fun playing that on the piano. AND again, I did the Leonardo DiCaprio pointing meme when I heard the theme from the lost woods come in GHHHHHHHH

shoutout to TP Faron Woods for helping me study and get through all of my schoolwork

BLEGUUHHH can you tell that I really love music?

and also yea I guess TP is kinda cool too :\

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT THANKS I GUESS

[cardentist]

I haven’t been in the star trek fandom for very long (I’ve only just started binging the series in the last couple months), so it’s been pretty surprising to find out just how negative the perception of the reboot movies are.

this isn’t coming from the perspective of someone who grew up with the series, so it hit different for me than it might for people with a different relationship to TOS, but I thought it was genuinely clever and Respectful with how it was handled.

To quote leonard nimoy: “Well the alternative timeline gives them license to escape from canon concerns. I can’t see people saying ‘they shouldn’t do that because…’ or ‘that doesn’t tie in to such and such’ because it is a different time and place. Am I right about that?” [Link]

the entire Premise is that the original series happened as it was presented in TOS, but an event late in Spock’s life caused the creation of a parallel universe in which everyone’s lives were significantly altered through two key changes to the timeline. this gives them the freedom to Both revel in fanservice And explore different facets of the characters and their relationships. 

the destruction of vulcan Vastly impacts the characters and the plot moving forward, and its a detail that a lot of people take issue with. but the emotional impact of sarek admitting Directly to spock that there is value in his humanity, that his feelings Aren’t wrong, that sarek married amanda because he Loved her cannot be understated. you can read all of these things into sarek as he was in the original series, but he Never had an open conversation about these things with spock. this creates a Believable and Rewarding change in their relationship, where we get to see a different facet of them Because of the changes made. and that’s exactly the appeal. showing us pieces of these characters that we never got in TOS that are nevertheless undeniably Them.

everyone is Different yes, but they’re also fundamentally the same people at their core and that matters.

kirk’s personality obviously takes the biggest change, with him experiencing trauma at a young age, losing his father, and having an implied abusive father figure after that point. he has a harsher personality in reaction to harsher conditions, he’s spikier and harder to love. but he’s also still fundamentally a Good person whose willing to risk everything to help people. he still has what made kirk prime a good captain and a good friend.

I’m not gonna say that it’s the most nuanced story in the world, but it explores a version of kirk that was born from even Less fortunate circumstances than kirk prime, exploring a kirk brimming with potential who learned to bite back after he was kicked down. exploring those themes of trauma and loss, of insecurity and growth, and coming to the conclusion that Fundamentally He Is Capable Of Good isn’t a Bad thing. you don’t have to like it, but his growth into a better person is The Point. they deepened his flaws (all of which were present in a less exaggerated form in TOS) To Show That Growth.

and then of course there’s his relationship with spock.

people are totally justified in not liking that they had a rough start to their relationship, I usually don’t like to see that kind of thing in reboots or hollywood adaptations either, but the way people talk about it is just unfair.

Yes kirk and spock and bones have a very strong relationship in TOS, they also already know each other by the time the show starts. to look at them having to learn to get to know and trust each other when they first meet and say that it’s Bad because they were already full on ride or die for each other in the og series is silly. TOS kirk and spock had to meet and fall in love with each other too, it didn’t just happen over night kings.

secondly, the entire point of the first movie is that Even With reality itself being altered to pull them apart they are fundamentally compatible people that are Bound to each other. they meet each other on bad terms because of circumstances outside of their control, and yet they’re still pulled into each other’s orbit and find the other slotting into place next to them as if they always belonged. one of the first things that spock prime says in the movie is “I am and always will be your friend,” spock and jim are Meant for each other and the movie goes out of its way to explain that. which is what makes it so Weird to see people complaining about how they don’t like each other.

it’s a Different relationship, but it’s absolutely no less steeped in yearning or queer subtext. 

speaking of queer subtext ! some people are Very unhappy with spock’s relationship with uhura.

first thing I wanna say is that making the argument that they’re doing anything that the original series hasn’t done is just, completely untrue. kirk has fallen in love with more girls in the og series than he knew what to do with, leonard nimoy was a heartthrob in his time (and he deserves it, awooga) and spock reflects that ! Spock usually turns the women who come onto him down (or when he doesn’t it’s because a plant has literally altered his mind), but there are exceptions to even that. all of three of the main boys have plenty of romance subplots, it happens. if that takes the possibility of them being queer off the table for you (which it shouldn’t, m-spec people exist) then I’m sorry to say that TOS is not exempt.

now, I can understand why Specifically This Relationship could rub people the wrong way or being disappointed that they didn’t outright depict kirk and spock as having a relationship (if not in the first movie then in the following ones after they’ve gotten to know each other), but even in that context the way I’ve seen people talk about it comes off as insensitive.

no, the relationship did not come out of nowhere. they considered having spock and uhura date each other in the original show (and you can see signs of this in the earlier episodes, where uhura very obviously flirts with him and they spend time together in their down time) before they decided against it, and spock was originally going to kiss uhura until shatner insisted that he wanted to do it (because it was the first interracial kiss on tv). [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3]

nichelle nichols was asked about this exact thing (spock and uhura’s relationship in the movie), you can read the interview in full here [Link] but I’d like to highlight this paragraph in particular:

“Now, go back to my participation in Star Trek as Uhura and Leonard (Nimoy) as Spock. There was always a connection between Uhura and Spock. It was the early 60’s, so you couldn’t do what you can do now, but if you will remember, Uhura related to Spock. When she saw the captain lost in space out there in her mirror, it was Spock who consoled her when she went screaming out of her room. When Spock needed an expert to help save the ship, you remember that Uhura put something together and related back to him the famous words, “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid.” And Uhura was the only one who could do a spoof on Spock. Remember the song (in “Charlie X”)? Those were the hints, as far as I’m concerned.”

the film makers looked at the fact there were Hints for uhura and spock, that they were Interested in exploring an interracial couple for the first time (both before and immediately after interracial couples won the right to legally get married) but Couldn’t because of the circumstances of the times and decided to Make that depiction. you don’t have to Like their relationship just because of that fact, but it’s Incredibly reductive to play down it’s significance as just a No Homo cop out. explicitly queer relationships are not the only progressive or culturally important relationships in fiction.

moreover, if you can’t imagine polyamory in the communist utopian future that’s on you.

moreover, this perception that this was a soulless cash grab is just, unfounded.

leonard nimoy returned to the role as spock for the first time in 16 years (since 1991) and this was Entirely because of the respect they had for nimoy, spock as a character, and the franchise as a whole. 

Lets look at some quotes from nimoy in interviews regarding the film:

Leonard Nimoy: When I first read the script (...) I immediately contacted J.J. and said “I think it is terrific…I think you guys have done a wonderful job. There is still work to be done, but it is very clear that you and your writers know what you are doing and you know how to do this movie and know what it should be about….and I am very interested.” Then as time went by we worked things out with Paramount, but the most important things were J.J. and the script. (...) I am very pleased about that and I am very comfortable with where this is going. I think the writers have done a terrific job. They have a real sense of the characters and the heart of Star Trek and what it is really all about.

(...)

TrekMovie.com: Now in the case of the new movie you have been retired from acting for years. What was it about this one that made you want to act again and go through the make up again? What was it that made you say ‘I really want to do this?’

Leonard Nimoy: You are right, this is a special situation. First it is Star Trek and so I have to pay attention. I owe that to Star Trek. Second place is that it is J.J. Abrams who I think very highly of, he is a very talented guy. Then came the script and it was very clear that I could make a contribution here. The Spock character that I am playing, the original Spock character, is essential and important to the script. So on the basis of those three elements it was easy to make the decision. So those three things: Star Trek, J.J. Abrams, and an interesting Spock role.

[Link]

Praising the cast playing younger versions of characters from the original 1960s TV series, he [Leonard Nimoy] said: “Let me take the opportunity to say this. Everybody at this table [the cast] are very, very talented and intelligent people.”

“They found their own way to bring that talent and intelligence to this movie, and I think it shows. (...)  When Karl Urban introduced himself as Leonard McCoy and shook hands with Chris Pine, I burst into tears. That performance of his is so moving, so touching and so powerful as Doctor McCoy, that I think D. Kelley would be smiling, and maybe in tears as well.”

“The makers of this film reawakened the passion in me that I had when we made the original film and series. I was put back in touch with what I cared about and liked about Star Trek, and why I enjoyed being involved with Star Trek. So, it was an easy way to come on home.”

“[In this Star Trek] they said things and showed me things, and demonstrated the sensibility that I felt very comfortable with, and I think that shows in the movie. I like it.”

[Link 1, Link 2]

again, you don’t have to like it just because leonard nimoy did, you don’t have to Agree. but the idea that nobody working on the film Cared is provably false. near everyone working on the project was already a fan of the series or were excited to be involved and did their homework. it’s genuinely a Miracle just how much of a labor of love this was, and in my opinion you can feel that through the movie itself. I’d highly recommend looking into interviews and behind the scenes details about the movies. they had a respect not just for the source material, but for leonard nimoy as a person.

there’s definitely more I Could say about this, but it’s 4 am now so I’m gonna shelve it jklfdsa

that said! it’s Fine to not like the movie, not everything is going to be suited to everyone’s taste, but the specific criticisms I’ve seen feel very off base

[myundeadgayson]

Mystic Messenger, but it’s actually C!Quackity on the DSMP

 …C!Quackity treating the DSMP like a dating sim joke, except I take it literally and tell you all the datable characters and Good, Bad, and Neutral Ends like this Mystic Messenger. (Disclaimer Note: This is all based on C!Quackity’s lore. This is also all based around their characters, NOT the CC’s. I am also NOT encouraging you to ship any of these characters -- especially bc some DO NOT feel comfortable with that. Also, no Minors are included because NO. This has just been a running Quackity joke for a while, and the concept of C!Quackity trying to flirt with all of these characters to speedrun the server like a legit dating sim sounds just so funny to me. Please do not attack me.)

Main Character Routes:

Sapnap (Good End: “Burning Love”, Neutral End: “I Love You, But Not Like That”, Bad End: “Twice Burned”) — can be connected to Karl’s Route

Karl Jacobs (Good End: ”Forever and Always”, Neutral End: “Friendzoned”, Bad End: “When Time Runs Out”) — can be connected to Sapnap’s Route 

Schlatt (Good End: “Alone, but Better”, Neutral End: “As the World Caves In”, Bad End: “Yes, Mr. President”)

Advanced Character Routes (only accessible after all Main Routes are completed):

Wilbur Soot (Good End: ”Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust”, Neutral End: “Two Sides of the Same Coin”, Bad End: “Enemies to Enemies”)

Technoblade (Good End: ”Tame the Blade”, Neutral End: “Enemies to... Allies?”, Bad End: “Dental Appointment”)

Karlnapity (Advanced Version): (Good End: “It’s About Time!”, Neutral End: “Only Time Will Tell”, Bad End: “...Who?”)

Secret Character Routes (only accessible after all routes above are completed):

Eret (Good End: “Flirt with the Traitor”, Neutral End: “You Need Friends, I Need Therapy”, Bad End: “Never Meant to Be”)

BadBoyHalo (Good End: “Dance with the Demon”, Neutral End: “...Sapnap’s Your What?”, Bad End: “An Eggsellent Ending, but a New Beginning”)

Bonus Route (only accessible when reaching halfway through Advanced Routes; technically a Bad End):

Philza Minecraft (??? End: Dilf Hunter Achievement: Become a Stepdad)

These are just the routes I’ve come up with for fun, and you can kind of see how a lot of them turn out by the names asjhdgksaj. (I don’t mind explaining what happens in any of them if you wanna know.) ** For anyone that doesn’t know Mystic Messenger by the way, there are 3 Main Endings (Good, Neutral, Bad) for Every Character, a True Neutral End, a True Bad End, and some other Bad Ends along the way if you start Good, then turn Bad towards a Character you’re pursuing.

But also, since this is Quackity… Him balancing out affection towards Karl and Sapnap, gets the Karlnapity Route, which is technically also a Main Route.

I will say though… Karl would probably have secret bonus options in the Advanced Routes that become available that involve Quackity finding out Karl’s a Time Traveler (something he discovers vaguely in Karl’s Main Route), but it leads to Quackity finding out more about Karl’s Time Travelling— the way Karl dies each time, the Dopplegangers, the Inbetween, etc.

Upon discovering all these things and finishing Karl’s Route in Advanced as a Good End, Secret Endings become Available to him. (This is where we’re gonna get SERIOUS, just so you know. We’re living like the Dream Daddy Simulator and there’s more lore than you realize.) More about the Secret Endings under the cut with the actual hidden lore because this post is about to be LONG.

These Secret Endings actually include Quackity witnessing Karl’s Time Traveling firsthand… Also, potentially Quackity traveling WITH Karl through time and into the Inbetween.

Upon him finishing this Secret Ending (which ends with him calming Karl through everything and a hopeful ending of him promising to help Karl to learn more about Karl’s abilities and save Karl’s memories), another route is open.

There’s Three Secret Endings that reveal themselves in total. That was only the first. The final two are connected, but the third being revealed depends on Quackity getting all the Main Bad Ends.

The Second Secret End is directly tied to Karl’s Bad End and the Fiancés’ Bad End in Advanced where in both, Karl forgets Quackity and Quackity lives alone in Las Nevadas.

In the OG Good Ending with Karl, they get married and stay El Rapids with Sapnap (romantic or platonically). In the Good Advanced with Karl, Quackity builds Las Nevadas and Karl almost forgets him, but Quackity comes home and finds out what happened.

The Second Secret Ending is what happens after Karl’s Advanced Bad Ending where he forgets Quackity. This Quackity, who’s chosen not to find out why he wasn’t invited to Kinoko, finds Sapnap struggling enough between helping Karl, managing Kinoko, and everything with Dream. Karl is gone again. Quackity, though still angry with the two, decides to help find Karl.

What ends up happening though is Quackity and Sapnap discover The Library (something Quackity discovers only in the Good Advanced End). They search around and find The Books. Obviously, the two start freaking out until Karl appears. This Karl isn’t their Karl. He looks the same, but there’s a noticeable white streak in his hair. Another thing is that he remembers Quackity.

It’s discovered in that moment that this “Dating Sim” situation with Quackity being able to restart through every path (though he fully never remembers any of them once the paths end) is the work of Time Travel. It’s Karl sending him back in time to make things right. The Karl in their timeline will only continue to get worse and lose all his memories. He NEEDS his memories, otherwise Karl can’t fix the timeline. There’s a huge threat that is going to be showing itself. Everyone WILL be doomed if Karl can’t repair the timeline, however, this Karl can’t fix it for him. Whatever threat that is going to come after them in the near future is following this Karl’s trail too closely. If this Karl tried to do it, he’d be leading the threat back in time with him and things would be doomed even sooner. He can only send back one, which is how Quackity gets chosen. Even though Quackity protests, Sapnap insists that it be Quackity to go. Sapnap can’t leave. If he did, he would be abandoning their timeline’s Karl, along with George and Kinoko. There’s a small argument between Quackity and Sapnap over this, but Sapnap admits he just Can’t. The timeline might change, but he couldn’t live with himself imagining Karl coming home without someone there to remind him that it is Home. Or George finally waking up and Sapnap not being able to be there. Quackity might have Las Nevadas to worry about, but Sapnap has the weight of two of the most important people in their lives on his shoulders. He can’t do it. Future Karl assures Quackity that he’d be good for this, too. That past Karl NEEDS him. His Fiancé NEEDS him. And this way, Quackity can help Sapnap! In the end, Quackity agrees. He reluctantly agrees to go. Future Karl just grins at him and hands him a pocket watch that in future runs, Quackity will be more aware of having because he’s actually had it in every route that wasn’t Karl’s Advanced Route. Right as Future Karl is teaching Quackity how to use it, the portal behind Karl turns a sickly neon green and yellow. Karl looks panicked at the sight. He quickly starts ushering Quackity to leave. NOW. Right as Quackity does, he just manages to see a glimpse of a hooded being stepping through the portal. He’s gone before he can see who it is. The Final Secret Ending becomes available.

The Final Secret Ending is ENTIRELY based on Quackity getting to all the Bad Endings for the Mains and all Karl’s Endings. That’s because the Final Secret Ending is, of course, about Dream. Up until this point, Dream has been doing his typical Dream things. In the Main Routes, he’s more of an idle character for Quackity because Quackity’s not directly involved with him yet. In the Advanced, Dream has reached the point of being imprisoned, thus Quackity is incredibly aware of everything Dream’s done. Somehow, this Dream eventually finds a way to escape the prison. He becomes more powerful upon getting released and somehow finds out about Karl’s powers, leading him down the road of wanting to understand him so that he himself can “fix the server”. Karl can’t allow Dream to tamper with the timeline because it’ll ruin everything. Dream, of course, finds a way into getting into Karl’s library and trying to find the necessary information to do it himself. Insert more plot leading to Dream eventually chasing Karl through the portals to stop Karl from reaching a timeline where they can change the story, and thus enters Quackity. In this Final Secret Ending, Quackity discovers everything that happening because Dream appears before Karl in The Library and reveals everything. Karl arrives late, just as this version of Dream is about to actually kill Quackity because, you know, personal reasons, but also Dream’s figured out Karl’s plan. Right as Dream’s about to kill Quackity though, Karl manages at the last second to shove Quackity the pocket watch, but Karl ends up getting killed in the process. Quackity has no time to mourn before he wakes back up in the past. And that’s all the Karl routes (which technically along with Sapnap) make for the True Endings! So there’s all of that story! ^u^ Definitely way more than I considered plotting out... But ya know,,, I fucking love Mystic Messenger and I love C!Quackity lore, along with C!Karl... So this started as a joke, but now you get lore to it! So please enjoy this brainrot! I put WAYYYY too much thought into it ajsgalkdjghlkd

[tokoyamisstuff]

Dark Side Of The Moon Ch. 1 - Dark! Loki x Reader

Chapter 1: Speak to Me/Breathe

Chapter Summary: The last thing you remember was being mortally wounded, now having woken up in a completely different reality. And you’d soon need to face the horrors of who would seek you out...

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Suicide Attempt, Graphic Descriptions of Death, Dark! Loki, Spoiler you kinda die but kinda don't

Words: approx. 3800

[Story Masterlist]

Masterlist to my other works right ->Here<-

Lyrics used from the Song: Kina ft. Snow - Get You The Moon

“Y/N, look out!”

The piercing sounds of gunfire nearby made your eardrums ring, yet Steve’s words got through to you nonetheless.

But you were determined to end this, here and now.

Tony was the first one at your side, catching you in his arms before you hit the floor. However, you could only do so much as whimper a silent apology to your friends, who now had to live with the consequences of your actions.

“Why did you do this?!” you heared Dr. Strange yell as he unsucessfully tried to close the deep cut in your gut. Too afraid of what you might see if you’d look at the wound, your glare was locked on the beautiful sky - yes, the sun was almost setting, and it was somehow calming to you that this would most likely the last thing you’d set eyes upon.

“There was no reason to be this reckless!” Steve followed close by, his scolding soon turning into desperate screams. “Fuck. FUCK!” If Captain America himself is cussing, then it’s as severe as you thought it to be.

Your wounds were lethal, that much was sure.

And of course they were right, as always: You didn’t need to play the martyr here, throwing yourself into danger to shield your comrades - well, you did anyway, and there was no going back now.

On the other hand, they were the ones taking a gravely depressed widow onto a dangerous mission. But you did not want your precious friends to blame themselves for that, for it was your own wish.

Dying in an honorable battle was what would send you to Valhalla, after all - where you could finally meet him again, hopefully.

The only one not having spoken a single word up until now was Thor, very well knowing what all this was about. It was no secret that you were sick and tired of how your life had turned out to be, ever since the Infinity War.

You felt empty. Incomplete. Desperate. Hallow.

The God of Thunder had turned his back to you, yet there was still agony radiating from that already broken man. Your almost-brother-in-law was the only one who could possibly understand your pain. Thor Odinson had lost everything: His homeland, most of his tribe, his family and best friend - and soon, you as well.

All this time, you wanted to be strong. For them, who had also lost so much!

But at some point things just got out of control.

“You can’t leave me alone, Lady Y/N! Not you too!” Thor finally whimpered as he fell onto his knees, softly squeezing your hand. “You’re the only thing I have left from him!

So this is what dying feels like.

The bloodloss caused your limps to go limp, and when the pain began to stop and got replaced by numbness, you knew it would soon be time. Your brain lost the remaining control over your body, and you found yourself encoated by pure nothingless.

Only able to listen by their screams, cries and kind words - at least you’d die surrounded by those marvellous people. It sure was a privilege knowing them.

You weren’t afraid - all in all, it had been a good life, after all. 

There were no regrets.

“Shh” you hushed them, using your last bit of strenght so your lips formed somewhat of a most broken smile, forming words between gurling on your own blood.

“It’s alright, I-” you cut yourself off, trying to scream as a last, torturing pain shot through your whole system. “I-I-I’ll-- meet him again...you know?”

“I’m no-not strong enough, please...” Thor cried out like you had never seen him before, feeling a tide of guilt wash over you. “Loki wouldn’t have wanted you to go like this! He told me to protect you, so you could lead a long and happy life!”

Without him? Impossible!

“You gave me a shoulder when I needed it

You showed me love when I wasn’t feeling it

You helped me fight when I was giving in

And you made me laugh when I was losing it”

Yes, indeed: You had been to selfish to keep on living just for the sake of your friends, burdening them with yet another loss.

“I-I don’t wanna go...this was a mistake, I- please...”

How badly did you want to soothe them right now, telling them that everything would be alright and you’d meet them again, eventually?

It was too late now.

Your body gave up earlier than your soul, which had endured and kept on all this time, even in it’s shattered state.

And when Tony’s palm gently closed your eyes, making it easier for you to embrace the cold darkness, the last thing you heared before your senses gave up were startling you enough to almost bring you back to life:

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

That voice was familiar, yet it didn’t belong to Loki. Dr. Strange, no- Stephen Strange, your friend and mentor of the mystic arts.

“I don’t have the heart to allow this to happen” he stated frantic, making you wonder if that was a dream of your hypoxic brain or if you were still able to hear them? People tend to say the sense of hearing dies last, after all. “She still has a pulse, even though weak. Hurry!”

Their voices were far in the back, words way too far out of your reach to understand. As if you were an outsider, only observing from a distance.

Your friends were fighting, or maybe discussing something. That much you could make up from their tone, but your mind was too exhausted to make sense of anything.

It felt as if you were already without a body, floating through the unknown like a feather in the wind - not knowing where fate would lead you to next.

Everything was numb - even your pain. It was soothing, somehow.

Because you had been a ghost way before, when you were alive even. An empty shell of a human, acting like they weren’t dead on the inside.

Coherent thoughts, memories, emotions...even the fractions of your own past you had both collected and surpressed. Right now, they were all restrained and pushed far in the back of your very core, where you were finally able to evaluate them without earthly bondings.

Was this heaven, hell - or maybe both or none or them?

____

"Be aware of the limits this tactic has. It’s a very drastic measurement that can most likely be used only once in your lifetime, and it is not guaranteed to work either.”

Stephen’s voice again. You recall that scene, it’s been long in the past...but why are you remembering it now?

Yes, this was familiar. All of you had been invited to the Sanctum Sanctorum, a fitting place to teach about this ancient knowledge.

You clearly remembered that Loki was absent in any of the Doctor’s lessons, feeling that a “puny human” was “unworthy” to teach him, and “it would be nothing new anyway, Y/N, I am a god and the way better wizard, I know it all already.”

What he was about to tell you back then was some kind of crazy emergency-plan: Dangerous, unpredictable and escpecially untested.

“I’ve only read about this tactic up until now” the mage pondered loudly as he picked at his goatee, earning some childish giggles by you and Tony. “So I cannot promise that it will function as planned. The Multiverse is dangerous and acts in unforseen ways.”

“Very reassuring” you had mocked at the time, not really biding the topic any importance or thought ever again.

But now...

The trick sounded way simpler than it actually was, being as complex as it is only natural for something like that, costing a huge prize at that:

Dr. Strange would send any of you who were on the brink of death through a portal, thus leading you into a random dimension of this endless Multiverse.

That dimension, in which your alternate self has most likely died, will gladly accept you as a “replacement”. Some kind of what Peter Parker called a “glitch” will occur, instantly healing all of your wounds - even fatal ones, so you could remain in the timeline that was missing you. 

Yet the consequences of this maneuvre would be unspeakable.

_____

“That bastard...” you gnarled internally, finally realizing why you would remember this of all things after apparently having just taken your dying breath. “He didn’t just-”

Eventually, you realized having escaped death’s grip, slowly beginning to regain your senses - yet still refusing to open your eyes.

“I don’t want to leave this place. My friends -- will I never see them again? No. NO! Life is meaningless. Just let me be with him. Please! Loki...”

“’Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

‘Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Another part of Strange’s lesson echoed in your head, revealing that you were now in fact up on your own.

“Not even I can tell just how much this timeline will differ from what you know. Of course I will search for you right away, but considering the countless possibilities, it might very well be that we’ll never meet again. But you’re alive, and hopefully safe. That’s all that counts.”

Grass tickled your palm as you twitched your fingers, testing the limits of your body, which had literally just tricked death. Suddenly, you felt a stinging pain, almost like lightning boring into your temportal. The origin of this pain remained unknown.

When you finally found the courage to sit up, your flesh still feeling as heavy as lead, you realized that Stephen was most likely wrong: He assumed that you’d find yourself in a place you had a deep connection with, yet that place was unrecognizable to you.

Then why were you here of all places?

Actually, this location was incredibly beautiful, managing to stop the aching in your heart, if only for the fraction of a second.

Your former lover would’ve loved this place.

“'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you

And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you”

Even though not all of Dr. Strange’s speculations were correct, you decided to stick to his emergency plan: Find as much information about this “new” earth as possible, point out the differences to your initial one, and then contact the Dr. Strange of this dimension.

Two mages working on crossing each other’s path would at least higher the stakes to find your original timeline.

Well, no one could guarantee you that the Avenger’s existed on this timeline, and they could as well be evil in this one...what a weird and horrifying imagination.

Knowledge really was power - that was another thing Loki had taught you a long time ago, and it would prove valuable, especially in this situation.

As you wandered this surprisingly extensive garden and getting lost in admiring the beauty of it’s nature, you found yourself devoid of any weapons. That fact made you slightly uncomfortable, even though your current location seemed absent of any ememies, making a peaceful impression. 

Seemingly there weren’t any evil schemes going on in this dimension.

It basically were only minor differences, at least that was your first impression. At least there were no changes in natural laws or something as big.

“I miss the days where magic and science didn’t mix up like this” you whispered, mainly to yourself as you examined the new, large scar on your abdomen - the only memory left of your “almost-suicide-mission”.

To be more precize: The only thing left from your former life, now leaving you able to start completely anew, wether you wanted it or not.

Sun had almost drowned behind the horizon, diving the sky in a deep orange. Your eyes were still adjusting, yet you could’ve sworn to see the silhouette of a person. It was far away, at the entrance on what appeared to be a palace belonging to this garden.

Apparently, you had invaded someone’s propery, and you could only pray that it was noone important - or worse, a owner who would defend their ground with violence.

You don’t think your earth had a place this...flashy. The castle was way bigger than any you knew on the other timeline. The first difference you had figured out, yet it was only a minor one.

Maybe the headache you were experiencing was from someone making you  out as an intruder?

One thing was sure: You had been noticed, and you immediately were on high alert.

Where to run to or at least hide?

There was a maze made out of bushed parting you and the palace, and since there was no better option, you’d enter it. Talking to that person and convincing them of your goodwill would make it way easier to gain information.

“You may come out” you declared as you made your way, unable to evaluate the situation properly. “I mean no harm. I’m just lost.”

Was it dangerous to be here? Obviously, you were not allowed to be here anyway.

However, when you had finally found the escape to that maze, only several hundret meters away from the building, the person was already gone.

Had your mind just played a dirty trick on you again? Wouldn’t be the firt time it’d betray you like this...

No. You clearly felt someone watching you.

And as soon as your senses had sharpened to your usual self again, you instantly jumped back, gaining some distance to the Citauri that had just appeared behing you.

Shit! You weren’t ready to fight again just yet. Not like this.

And where one of those vile beasts were, many others would appear. You knew that much.

Had Thanos invaded this earth? Oh god, not again...not him. You were so damn tired of those fights, escapes and especially the pain that always inevitable followed after.

Just when it was about to swing it’s weapon at your head, you felt dizziness crawl up your nerves, making you collapse on the floor. Lucky for you, because only like that, the stike didn’t hit you.

Even though having been taught basic magic skills, that certain kind of spell you were unable to fight against - only true masters of the art were able to perform a sorcery that well.

The Chitauri had left your line of sight, yet the other figure from before reappeared in a pace so fast that your eyes couldn’t follow. They sweeped you off the floor just before your head would meet the hard pavement.

“And now you will answer to me, shapeshifter.”

Once again someone robbed you of the control of your life and body, leaving you without a free will.

How long had you been passed out now? You didn’t know and honestly didn’t care either - since you had nothing to lose anymore.

In the meantime, the owner of those lands had dismissed his guards, not wanting to be disturbed as he was left alone with you in the giant throne room.

The apparent ruler of that unclassified location was sitting on his throne, warily observing you from above. You were lying to his feet at the bare floor, every piece of clothing robbed from you and restrained by a pile of chains. He watched every twitch, all breaths you’d take or groans escaping your mouth until you would finally awake.

Oh, how you really were just like he remembered you, with every little detail he had adored.

At long last, you would finally open your lids again, blinking heavily as you took in your surroundings - but when your eyes met certain emerald ones, they immediately sprung wide open, the emptiness in your heart being filled with all kinds of emotions once again.

The man - it was him!

“'Cause you are, you are

Oh, you are

Oh, you are

You are'Cause you are, you are

The reason why I’m still hanging on

'Cause you are, you are

The reason why my head is still above water

And if I could I’d get you the moon

And give it to you”

“Loki!” you screamed from the bottom of your heart. Without a single coherent thought, your legs would carry on their own as your weakened body stumbled in their attempt to climb those stairs.

For both of you, that momend of reuinion had waited far too long.

The god was temptated to approach you, his trembling hands already reaching out to catch your fragile body should you fall - but suddenly, you felt his knuckles digging into your cheekbone.

“Stay away from me, you fake!” Loki yelled furiously as you hit the ground, rubbing your cheek as you tried to understand what just happened.

Yeah, that sure brought you back to reality again, after such a short high.

Right.

That isn’t your Earth - and not your Loki either.

You couldn’t even be sure this world’s Y/N and Loki had the same kind of relationship the two of you had back in your timeline! The only thing you knew was that he knew you from his past, but as it seemed not pleasantly.

Now that you looked closely, he even had less scars, almost looking untouched and pure - like a true, invincible god. Maybe life here had treat him well, unlike his counterpart from your timeline.

He was still wearing that excessive outfit with the golden horns, and much to both your amazement and fear, it seemed that he still possessed theTesseract.

Could it be...

Before you could connect the dots, the king would soon interrupt your string of thoughts. “Drop that disguise, scum!”

Loki kept on degrading you as he paced in front of his throne, brow sinking deeper and deeper. “Don’t think you can somehow appeal to those pathetic sentiments” he explained, “I’ve freed myself from them long ago. Just stop making a fool out of yourself, and maybe I’ll reward it with a quicker death.”

Yet when he saw your most innocent smile, even this Loki would stand frozen in place, deeply in shock.

How he yearned to see it, all those years - to tell you just how sorry he was for everthing he’s done.

No.

He had left all of this behind - to claim his birthright and rule.

“I-I’m deeply so-sorry...that is a mistake” you whimmered with a broken voice, wiping a tear of joy out of your face. “My feelings overwhelmed me, I guess. I’ve never thought to see you again, even if you’re not the same Loki I know.”

Still cowering on the floor, you looked up to him with compassionate eyes, as if he had not just beat you before. You did not dare to make any more, wanting for Loki to try and understand himself.

“A variant?” he gnarled, just like you did when he realized.

No force in the world had allowed him to access other parts of the Multiverse, no matter how desperately he tried - and now fate had literally dropped you in front of his door.

Loki balled his fists in anger, making you flinch as you anticipated yet another blow.

“Dear, I-”

“Shut up!” the God of Mischief shoutet, causing his magic to break free. The walls of the palace were shaking, most windows and furniture having been destroyed. “It’s no use, woman!”

That man was way more powerful than the “puny god” people called names back on Asgard - and his sheer might made you quiver.

Just what kind of monster had he become, and why?

“L-Loki, please...” you tried to appeal to the last bit of humanity  he might possess, and your begging made his guts twist in agony. “You’re scaring me.”

“You better be scared!” he exclaimed, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him. “No matter what disgracefully weak “alter ego” of me you knew, I am built different. Stronger. Better. Everyone in the Nine Realms fears me, and I desire nothing else! Everything distracting me from fulfilling my destiny and reign over you dull creatures I got rid of. You’re nothing more than an insect I might as well crush right here and now!”

Choking on a sob, he tried to relish that last chance he got to admire you, smell you, touch what he cannot possess...no matter how many universes there may be.

A flood of tears cracked down your face at his words, yet you couldn’t be helped.

No matter what he would say - he looked just like him.

And that was enough for you to feel alive after such a long time of being a walking dead. There had to be a reason you landed right at his home, of all places in this universe. You had a connection, both of you felt it ever since you had been transported here.

"May I ask-” you disrupted yourself, awaiting some reaction. But the conqueror had seemed to have spoken what he thought important to say, not declining your question at all.

Whenever he seemed fit, he could disintegrate you - yet right now, this situation was way too intriguing.

“What happened to myself in this reality?”

Loki swallowed harshly, letting go off of you as he threw you down the stairs. He wouldn’t even bide you one look as he tried to surpress the turmoil of emotion still running through his veins, desperately keeping it from breaking free.

The outcome would always be the same: Suffering, for both of you.

“And if death was coming for you

I’d give my life for you.”

He only ever wanted it to stop hurting. To become unfeeling, since love had always been poisoning his mind, sometimes being gifted with it even though he knew he would never be worthy of anything else than disgust and hate.

And that contradiction caused him to throw away anything good that happened to him, through you. Let it be taken away from him just shortly after finally learning to remotely enjoy.

You deserved the truth, a reason to hate him even more than you probably already did.

Had you only come to his salvation earlier, then he might have been helped - yet now, he was beyond redemption. Broken. Sick. Dangerous.

And when the Chitauri dragged you away, his last words let your blood run cold:

“She died through my hands.”

_____

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[charcubed]

Celebrities’ sexualities/relationships, and what not to post where

I’m going to make an all-purpose, general post about this topic, because it seems like there’s value in making one. Anyone who’s been following me here or on Twitter long enough has seen me address this before but often in specific scenarios, but y’know what... let me just make a general all-purpose post too just to lay this out for the sake of my own sanity.

We all know this is a thing: people like to speculate on celebrities’ sexualities and/or participate in “real person fiction” (RPF), and that’s been happening since the dawn of fandom. On some level, I understand why; it's exciting to think a celebrity might be queer especially if YOU are. We all want role models & we all want that to be normalized, etc... and sometimes it’s a case of “like recognizes like”; queer people can spot other queer people. But whether or not one is “correct” doesn’t matter, and either way, celebrities' lives are not for our consumption. They do not exist for our entertainment or speculation. This kind of talk can get out of hand very quickly in a way that ruins the lives of real people. 

So I am here to remind people to be mindful of what you say about celebrities, where you say it, and HOW you say it too.

For example: under no circumstances should you openly post things about celebrities’ sexuality or relationships on Twitter.

If you know this already, cool! Great! Good! Keep scrolling! But not everyone does know this, and either way, it’s always a good reminder–especially because people can get excited in the heat of a moment and these principles can easily accidentally fly out of the window.

Not all social media is “equal” or carries the same weight of potential real world consequence. Tumblr, for example, tends to influence little outside of here as long as the topic in question stays on Tumblr; AO3 fic stays on AO3, or at least it should. But Instagram comments or tweets do not exist in a vacuum or echo chamber the way people often seem to think, and often route back to the celebrities in question in harmful ways. Those platforms are open to the wider world in a way that can translate to very real consequence for the people being discussed.

What do I mean by that? A good example of how things can get unintended attention is what happened recently when memes about Misha Collins and Bill Clinton got out of hand, made their way to Twitter, and resulted in journalists writing articles that Misha felt he needed to address. On a more related note, recently Brie Larson made one offhand gay joke/reference in a personal Youtube video; it then trended worldwide and resulted in many articles too. There is now, unfortunately, high potential that she could be asked about and pressured about her sexuality in interviews in future. Did any of the people tweeting about those topics expect that to happen? Probably not, and yet it did. But these are good examples of how Twitter algorithms have vastly shifted, and keyword use is enough for things to easily and quickly trend outside of fandom’s intentions or control in ways that cause harm.

Putting any celebrities’ personal lives under a microscope, whether unintentionally or otherwise, is never a good idea. But it’s especially not a good idea when it comes to sexualities or personal relationships.

People will say “Shipping is just in the fandom! We know how to behave! What’s the problem? It’s never gone wrong before.” The problem is multilayered, but here are the main issues: the fact that nothing “bad” has happened before does not mean it never will. You can control your behavior, but you cannot control how other people–especially people who are new to your fandom–may or may not behave on the wider internet surrounding the topic of people's personal lives. Posting about it on main on somewhere like Twitter also inherently runs the risk of other outside parties seeing it, being like “what’s all this then?” and then picking it up and running with it further–whether that be ~haters~ or journalists.

People will also say “These celebrities know about this kind of fandom talk and they don’t care!” or “If the celebrities wanted us to stop this, they’d have said something by now!” To that I say: those are a lot of assumptions, when the only “assumption” one should realistically make is that we don’t know celebrities personally, we don’t know if they may or may not be actually closeted/unlabeled (which is their right!), and we don’t know what may make them uncomfortable while other things may not. The absence of "no" or "stop" isn't equivalent to "yes," nor is it citable as defense for questionable or potentially harmful behavior. Silence isn't blanket approval or consent, nor should it be assumed to be in any situation. Just because celebrities haven’t said in so many words “Please stop doing [this specific thing]” doesn’t mean they are automatically cool with whatever a fandom is doing, such as speculating about them or openly pointing out what they think they know about their sexualities or relationships. This includes posts on the wider timeline, or tweets and Instagram comments @ celebrities themselves filled with references or assumptions about their lives that are very not okay.

Even with something like Brie Larson’s situation... A celebrity making a joke or acting a certain way in one environment where they may feel comfortable or more relaxed–like a Youtube video, or a convention with fans, or anything else–does not mean that that celebrity expects or wants worldwide eyes on their behavior. And worldwide attention is what is always at risk on platforms like Twitter or Instagram. 

Ultimately, overanalyzing and calling attention to people’s actions is how people who are allies can be made to feel awkward, or how people who are queer get outed or forced into labels. I literally live in fear of the day when some random journalist starts poking around specific fandoms/celebrities, connects the dots that are out there and are seemingly easy to connect, and then somehow makes their sexuality a topic of interviews. Once it becomes a Topic, it becomes nearly unavoidable for them. That’s what happened to Lee Pace; it’s how many people are forced to come out. At all times, queer celebrities are a stone’s throw away from having to deal with all of that in ways no one should, especially as they get more famous. If you care about any celebrity you like to talk about, or if you care about the privacy of real people at all in the ways you should (especially potentially queer people), this should be a point of concern for you.

So, in conclusion: be mindful. If you must talk about celebrities’ lives on something like Twitter, do it without using their actual names to avoid keywords, because they trend at the drop of a hat out of nowhere and that can ruin lives. Avoid deliberate repetition in your phrases because that’s how accidental trends are made. And, better yet, honestly? Consider just keeping that kind of talk to Tumblr/AO3, and preferably to personal private messages. 

Your ability to fangirl/squee/celebrate a real person’s life is not more important than their right to privacy. Ever. This is not a petty topic and it is not “fandom policing” to say things like this out of concern. Acting from an abundance of caution is always the better way to go, because you lose nothing by being extra vigilant; the alternative of not being cautious enough comes with a high risk of negative consequence.

If we all just operate under the knowledge that talking about real people can translate to real consequences for real lives, and act with an abundance of respect/caution accordingly, then there will be nothing to worry about. And celebrities will get to live their private lives and (if this is applicable) be the authors of their own coming out journeys as they see fit, which is a right everyone should have.

From the bottom of my heart: just use both your empathy and your brain cells, please.

[teamddixon]

A New Normal - Part 3

Summary: Set in the future of the TWD timeline, this   story follows Daryl, Y/N and her brother through their journey in the   world of the undead. It wasn’t like Daryl to let people in to his heart easily, but it was Y/N’s smiles that had captured him completely, and   before he knew it, there wasn’t a scenario Daryl could think of about   his future that didn’t have Y/N in it.

A/N: Hi everyone, here’s the third part of the installment, with a peek at a jealous Daryl! It’s shorter than the usual parts, and I know the link between paragraphs are pretty bumpy to read. Sorry! (Any writers out there that also feel like the very same piece of their writing is written by different people depending on their mood that day?) It’s literally almost 4.30am as I am posting this, so I believe there must be quite a number of mistakes. But really hope you’ll still enjoy it!  As usual, photos/gifs are not mine, but any mistakes in this are certainly mine.

Two months into their constant moving, they met and saved a lone man who was almost attacked by a walker. It was pure coincidence that they had walked past that back alley that day when he was there. Before the walker had a chance to sink its foul mouth on the man’s face, Daryl had shot and killed the walker off with one swift arrow. Y/N quickly ran towards the man to help him, only to find out he had suffered a bad sprain on his ankle while trying to fight off the walker. His injury would have indirectly killed him had Daryl not acted when he did. The man introduced himself as Gerald. After losing his friends two weeks ago, he had been out there on his own, surviving, while grieving his loss – a feeling Daryl, Andrew and Y/N knew all too well. As the night was approaching, they quickly helped Gerald into an empty warehouse down the street and stayed with him.

Although Y/N had no medical trainings, she knew what was needed to be done to remedy a sprain. Daryl and Andrew worked together to lock down the warehouse and Y/N worked on nursing Gerald’s ankle. Using the gentle glow of the moonlight through the warehouse windows, she gently removed Gerald’s boots and carefully wrapped a piece of cloth around the ankle to compress the area. She then grabbed a few empty flattened boxes from the warehouse shelves, stacked them up and instructed Gerald to elevate his ankle. Satisfied and convinced that Gerald was comfortable and resting, she stood up. But after squatting for almost five minutes by then, her legs had fallen asleep. As she tried to stand up, her legs gave way, causing her to fall straight down onto Gerald. Her head swiftly hit Gerald’s, and their lips almost touched. Still reeling from shock from the sudden fall, but otherwise uninjured, Y/N heard a low grunt from behind her and then a hand pulling her up. She grabbed on to the hand tightly and looked up to see a flash of darkness on Daryl’s face. Before Y/N could make out his expression, it was gone. “Thanks.” Y/N muttered, feeling unsettled by Daryl’s expression.

Daryl felt an emotion he had never experienced before when he saw Y/N nursing Gerald’s injury. He knew that Y/N was trying to be nice, but seeing her so close with Gerald had aroused that emotion from somewhere within him. He didn’t recognize what he was feeling, except that he wanted to pull Y/N away from Gerald and keep her next to him, just for him. He didn’t like seeing her touching Gerald’s legs, even though he fully understood what she was doing. When Y/N fell on Gerald and their lips had almost touched, he felt the immediate urge to rain down his punches on Gerald, even when he was fully aware that the fall was unintentional. Having no full understanding of the emotion he was feeling, he stayed away from Y/N that night, much to her disappointment. Few words were exchanged between them that night. Y/N felt that Daryl was avoiding her, even though she had no idea why.

“Can’t you tell how Daryl is feeling?” Andrew rolled his eyes at Y/N where she sat, unable to fall asleep. Daryl was at a corner, his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. “Come on, sis. You really don’t know?” Andrew tutted.

“What? What do you mean?” Y/N frowned. She was still feeling uneasy about her interaction with Daryl earlier that evening. Andrew sighed dramatically and shook his head, unable to believe how Y/N could have missed it. “He’s obviously jealous.” Andrew said matter-of-factly.   

“What?!” Y/N whispered-screeched. “He’s… jealous? Of what happened with Gerald just now?” She looked suspiciously at Andrew.

“Why else do you think he was acting that way, huh? Think about it.” Andrew patted Y/N’s shoulders and walked away. And Y/N did thought about it. Could Daryl possibly really be jealous of her and Gerald? They had only just met, and beyond his name and what happened to his friends, Y/N barely knew Gerald. She was just helping out a fellow survivor, and there was nothing more beyond that. Y/N turned to look at Daryl’s sleeping face. She quietly stood up and moved over the Daryl, and laid down next to him. Even after the evening they had, Y/N still wanted to be as close to Daryl as she could. She would clear things up with him when morning comes.

Y/N volunteered to follow Daryl on a run the next day so she could catch him alone to talk. It was a good sign for Y/N that Daryl hadn’t objected. Knowing that Y/N needed her time to sort things out with Daryl, Andrew offered to stay behind with Gerald. While they scavenged the nearby buildings, Y/N stayed close to Daryl, and seeing that he was no longer avoiding her, she felt relieved. Although few words were spoken between them, Y/N was no longer feeling as unsettled as she was the night before. It was almost as if things had gone back to normal between them. After an entire morning of walking and killing walkers they meet, they finally settled down inside a car they found in a parking lot for lunch. As Y//N and Daryl shared the bag of wild berries that they had packed, she cleared her throat, finding the right words to say to Daryl.

“Daryl?” Y/N finally spoke up. “Can I ask you about what happened last night?”

“Mm?” Daryl mumbled. He was no longer eating the berries, but was visibly chewing the insides of his lips. Daryl’s eyes darted between her and outside the windows, avoiding to look directly at Y/N. Y/N didn’t know then, but Daryl had heard her conversation with Andrew the night before. It was the first time he had felt the way he felt, and had Andrew not pointed it out, he would not have connected his emotion to jealousy. It was new to Daryl, but as soon as he knew what he was feeling, he understood immediately what had made him felt that way.

“Were you… jealous?” Y/N whispered shyly. She looked at Daryl and waited for him to look back at her. When he did, she saw him respond with a gentle, almost unnoticeable nod. A smile crept across Y/N’s face. She felt something tingle in her heart.

“I didn’t like seeing you with Gerald.��� Daryl finally said, breaking the silence. Y/N let out the breath she had subconsciously held and looked up at Daryl, their gaze meeting. “Why?” Y/N daringly probed.

“I don’t like seeing you so close to him, is all.” Daryl replied, looking away. Y/N’s chuckles brought his gaze up again. Daryl looked at her, confused. “You were just repeating yourself! You didn’t answer my question.”

Daryl grunted dismissively. A part of him was afraid to tell Y/N the reason of his jealousy. Daryl felt silly, and maybe even ashamed about the reason why. Gerald was a lot younger than he was, making his age closer to Y/N’s. Daryl had no idea until Gerald came into the picture, that he was insecure about the age gap between him and Y/N. Seeing Gerald and Y/N together, albeit an innocent interaction, had inevitably made him felt that Y/N would be better off with someone younger, someone like Gerald. Seeing how Y/N and Gerald had almost kissed was even harder for Daryl to bear. He knew it was an accident, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling robbed of Y/N from him. That kiss, even if it was an almost-kiss was supposed to be his, not Gerald’s. Daryl knew he was being absolutely ridiculous and stupid, but he couldn’t stop that voice in his head.

When Daryl didn’t answer, Y/N spoke again. She felt a strong wave of courage to do what she was about to do, and she wanted to do it before she lost the courage again. “It was an accident. I didn’t kiss Gerald.” Y/N’s voice quivered slightly. She leaned in close to Daryl, and gently planted a kiss on his lips. “You’re the one I want to kiss.”      

[sohotthateveryonedied]

My ideal YJ season 4, because SOMEONE can’t follow directions and stop making unnecessary time skips that no one wants

(This is written with enough salt to fill the fucking Pacific, I swear.)

First off, no time skips!!! Why, you ask? Because we don’t fucking need one, that’s why. I didn’t turn on Young Justice because I was hoping it would be about a bunch of thirty-year-old has-beens who aren’t even in the superhero game anymore because they can’t throw a punch without shattering their hip. For every year that this show skips, my patience thins just a little bit more.

HOWEVER!!! The introduction of the Legion of Superheroes means we’ll be getting some time travel shit, right?? Some good ol’ time fuckery?? Some timeline shenanigans?? Then how about we get some flashbacks between the past and the future?? Pretty please??? There is no better opportunity to bring back all of the phantoms (literal AND figurative) of the Team’s past than to do it in a season that is LITERALLY titled “Phantoms.” Show us big milestones from the five years between seasons one and two like Dick becoming Nightwing, Wally and Artemis quitting, when all of the freshmen joined up, etc. Have the season center on linked conflicts between the past, present, and future because this is seriously the PERFECT season to do that! Connect Jason’s death to his resurrection! Connect Wally and Artemis quitting the hero gig to Wally’s triumphant return! The possibilities are limitless! And if the writers don’t take this golden opportunity for whatever reason, then guess what!! They’re dumbasses who just missed a huge opportunity that we’ll probably never get again!!!

(Also, let me just say real quick that if Artemis is in a relationship when the season begins, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind. This is an opinion thing so you don’t have to agree, but if she is dating someone to try and “fill the void” after Wally which leads to a whole love triangle thing when he comes back, I will break things. Buildings will fall. Trees will be uprooted and yeeted across nations like goddamn Paul Bunyan. Don’t fucking do it.)

This one goes without saying by now, but Wally West is going to come back. That’s happening. That’s gonna be a thing. I’m almost positive about it, unless of course all of the hints at his return in season 3 were just Voltron-level baiting, which is highly probable at this point. Still, I’m sticking with my faith that Wally will be back before the season ends. Have him be stuck in the Speed Force. Have him be stuck in the Phantom Zone. I don’t care where he comes from, just bring him back home and reunite him with his friends and family, please. Maybe then I can finally rest. (Bonus points if he’s got boosted speed and/or a red and silver Rebirth-style suit!)

Bring in Inertia, AKA Bart’s clone Thad!! I know I had a super good reason for this when @damthosefandoms​ and I talked about it weeks ago, but I honestly forgot all of it. Regardless, I think it’s an excellent idea because Bart deserves the screen time, PLUS he’s already our resident time traveler so why not give him some spotlight in a season all about time travel? And while you’re at it, introduce a wonderfully crafted character who could make the season SO much more interesting, whether he takes Bart’s place in an echo of the mole plot from season one or just as a wild antagonist who is ACTUALLY a teenager like the rest of them. (Looking at you, Lex Luthor and Deathstroke and all of you bad guys who already have gray hair and aren’t remotely interesting anymore.) (Okay, that last part was a lie because they are pretty interesting, but still. Give us some younger villains.)

Also I would really like Bart and Ed to be official because. I mean, did you see their interactions in season four?? The whole “Virgil being a seventh wheel which implies that Bart and Ed are a couple” thing?? Come on, man.

The Phantom Zone!! It’s a thing!!! Use it!!!

This one is more wishful thinking than anything, but I would really dig a huge final battle on Apokolips in the season finale. As wild and shocking as the season three finale was, I was expecting a cool battle sequence between those who were under the influence of the anti-life equation and those who weren’t that never happened, which made the ending seem a bit...empty. What better setup for a battle sequence than the entire Justice League, Team, Outsiders, and Legion fighting together against Darkseid and his minions? It would be incredible.

JASON TODD!!! OUR FAVORITE PHANTOM WHO IS ALREADY REVEALED TO BE ALIVE!!! In my ideal “Under the Red Hood” arc, they would give us a ton of flashbacks (see??? it fits in perfectly with what I said earlier about bouncing between the past and future!!) to Jason’s death which probably happened during a Team mission instead of with Batman and Joker since it’s a Young Justice-centric show and all. Then we get to see the Red Hood operating with the Light as their secret weapon or maybe even their new enforcer until, after a whole season of watching the Batfam struggle to bring their wayward son and brother home, he switches sides and fights alongside them in the final battle. Fucking splendid you funky vigilante.

Additionally, a Red Hood arc gives perfect reasoning for some Batfamily content! Let us know what Cass is like and how she joined up as Orphan before season three. And while you’re at it, let Tim get some spotlight too?? Please?? Maybe even give us some Tim/Stephanie content because the writers wouldn’t drag out a whole boring breaking-up-but-not-really-because-nothing-actually-happens-there-and-they-get-barely-any-screen-time thing for Tim and Cassie if it wasn’t for a good reason. They could show Barbara training Steph to take over as Batgirl, or at the very least have her last scene in the season be of Steph opening a present from Barbara that turns out to be a purple suit with a bat symbol on the chest. It would be spectacular.

And lastly, this one isn’t really relevant even though it is, but. I am more than okay with Damian Wayne not being present in this season. It’s not that I don’t love him, which I do. But the kid was an infant last we saw him, and the only way he could become Robin anytime soon is if Dick were like thirty and I’m Not Here For That. Save Damian for future seasons when you actually need new characters, rather than cramming in a million easter eggs for no reason when you already have a perfectly good main cast right there.

Seriously, Grandon. I’m fucking begging you here.

[majorsoapfan]

Umbrella Academy Season 3 Wish list

This is a long one so buckle up:

Let Klaus and Allison take centre-stage this season in leading the plot. Both are incredible characters and deserve the chance to shine. And I can think of several reasons why they deserve the chance to take centre-stage: out of the whole Academy their powers are some of the most fascinating and in Klaus’ case he has so many that haven’t been revealed yet. They’ve both suffered and lost a lot as well, particularly in season 2 and their hardships tend to get ignored by others. Their relationship together is already really interesting and supportive and they would be an awesome team up. There’s more but I’ll be here forever if I tried to list them.

No Apocalypse. The world ending in eight days was a great plot driver in season 1 and again in season 2 with the reveal that the end of the world actually followed the Umbrella’s back in time. But if the same thing gets repeated over and over then I’m worried that the show will lose it’s edge as a result. In order for the characters to develop new crisis's need to take its place.

Let Five have a rest. Even if it’s just for an episode or two so he can get a solid eight hours sleep if nothing else. For the last two seasons Five has been running around non-stop trying to stop the end of the world and save his family. Without that Five can grow as a person and get a literal break that he really hasn’t gotten in 45 years.

Oh course that doesn’t mean I want Five out of the drama entirely and I do expect to see Reginald and Five scenes in season 3. Five is the only one of his original children that the bastard seemed to tolerate and he did seem to have some form of twisted respect for Five as well. And I wouldn’t put it past the monocle monster to have some twisted plans in store for the eldest member of the Umbrella Academy. He’s had fifty years to plan for the Umbrella’s return after all.

The Sparrows. I just saw the line up of the Sparrows for season three and I am honestly so interested. I can’t wait to see what their powers are like and I already have some ideas. They have so much potential and hopefully they’ll be done well. And so far they seem to be written as the Umbrella’s foils. Marcus is a natural leader who loves his family, while Luther forces himself into the role and alienated his family as a result. Both Ben and Diego long to be the leader but while Diego is more emotional, Ben’s more strategic. Five is driven by his love and desire to protect his family, while Sloane feels held back by hers. Vanya was treated as an outcast and betrayed her siblings trust while Christopher, a literal Cube, is said to be loyal and is treated as a loved family member 

That being said though, I don’t want the Sparrows to be the main focus this season or have the attention split between them and the Umbrella’s. Because while I do want to see the Sparrows and their family dynamic and how they interact with the Umbrella’s, I would prefer to see how the Umbrella Hargreeves’ cope with their existent and how this impacts them and how they move forward with this. Or a team up between Sparrows and Umbrella’s would be fine. Or multiple team ups, I’m not picky.

There is a really good fan theory out there about Klaus and Five being twins and while I know that in the comics it’s Luther and Five, the fan theory in season 3 would be so much better in my opinion. And in all honesty it makes so much more sense. Physically they are strikingly similar, especially as children. Their powers both concentrate in their hands and emit a blue glow when they use them. Their powers themselves are literally time and death, which are linked and they have additive personalities, which can be inherited between family members. And I can’t help but feel that this moment:

lends a new level to their relationship then what we see with them as adults. Look at how alike they are! And that fond smile that Five is giving Klaus? Making them twins opens up a wide range of possibilities for Klaus and Five both character and plot wise.

Give Luther a proper love interest. And I can’t believe that this even has to be said but his sister does not count! Literally all of siblings have have romantic interests, all of them so important in the Umbrella’s life in some way or another. It would be nice too to see Luther form a healthy romantic connection for the first time in his life.

While I’m on the subject of Luther and healthy relationships, it also brings me back to the Sparrows and how their number one Marcus seems to be Luther’s foil. And it would be interesting for the show to explore just how seeing the Sparrows and someone so similar to Luther might just affect him. He did spend thirty years of his life after all being Reginald’s little solider and believing that his position as Number One made him the family leader only to find out it was all for nothing. Only Marcus seems to be respected in his position as leader and loves his family dearly, while Luther was mocked and seems to have driven all of his siblings bar Allison away from him because of it. This has incredible potential for Luther’s character arc this season especially if it makes him acknowledge his behaviour to his siblings as they were growing up; particularly to Klaus and Vanya who probably got the worst of it. Allison after all was his closest companion, Diego was his rival (more or less), Ben seemingly got on with everyone and Five would have bitten Luther’s head off if he tried anything. But Reginald’s disappointments Klaus and Vanya? Luther, wanting to impress their dad and follow his orders probably didn’t treat them the best. And I want Luther to admit that and apologise and make the next step in becoming a better person and brother. He’s made incredible progress in season 2, but I don’t want his past treatment of his siblings to be swept under the rug. It needs to be acknowledged and Luther needs to admit it was wrong so he can grow. 

Can we get Diego’s season one hair back too? I wondered just how it got that long considering that he was only in the sixties for around three months. Klaus makes sense as he was in the sixties for years. Plenty of time for him to grow it out, not really for Diego. But I really prefer his season one hair so can it make a comeback please?

What I want to see for Vanya this season is for her to realize that she doesn’t need powers to be special. I kinda noticed that she seems to have defined her worth on her powers and that’s not healthy. So a potential scenario: Reginald seems to have made the power-suppressing drug himself, so he may still have it in season 3. Imagine Vanya getting a dose of it that knocks her powers out for a good chunk of time and in the meantime some of her siblings are in danger (I’m picturing Luther and Diego here the himbos) and she ends up saving them. Not with her powers but because of her intelligence and other skills that she has and she realizes that she doesn’t need her powers to be special or to save the day. A logical step in character growth.

Getting some closure on season 2 character like Sissy, Ray, Grace, the Cult (which I really didn’t like) and the Swede and what happened to them once the Umbrella’s left the sixties. And maybe finding out what happened to season one’s characters since the Umbrella’s didn’t exist in this timeline: Agnes, Patch, Leonard, Pogo, Claire.

For Klaus and Umbrella Ben to talk about their issues and make up. I know that our Ben is now up there with the little girl in the sky but that has not stopped Klaus from visiting heaven before. And I think that if Klaus and Ben do not get at least one final conversation to talk through their issues next season then I will sue. They both did crappy things to each other in season two but they both love each other dearly and they deserve the chance to get the closure they both need. I think that Klaus will definitely need it in order to move on completely.

I know I said no Apocalypse but I’m still going to be expecting some major crisis to happen during the last few episodes. An alien invasion or Sparrows trying to kill the Umbrella's maybe? But no matter what the problem is, I really want Klaus to get his moment to shine by being the one to save the day. Reginald said himself that Klaus has untapped potential and we know thanks to the comics what other powers he has. And thanks to Ben’s antics at the family dinner the old bastard has probably written him off as useless and not a threat when making plans to deal with the Umbrella’s. Which means nobody is going to be looking at Klaus or considering him a potential threat to their plans, leaving Klaus relatively safe to start exploring and enhancing his powers. He was supposed to be the one to have done it in season one with the moon and his abilities were brushed to the side completely in season two or used for Ben’s benefit so I think he’s long overdue his moment to shine. And maybe then will the rest of his siblings stop seeing Klaus as a joke.

Lila. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her, her story felt unfinished and she does have a briefcase. She could pop at any moment in the story. She has so much potential and I did love her actress. Imagine her and Five forcing to team up or something? Or maybe her and Allison?

Another character I’d like to see return is Hazel. He’s someone who really grew on me. And there is a chance that he could return and maybe team up with the Umbrella’s this season. Potential scenarios: Five on the hunt for allies to help him restore the timeline hunts down Hazel who in this timeline is working with the Commission and because the Umbrellas don’t exist hasn’t met Agnes yet. Maybe something happened to her because of the Sparrows?

Finally Dave. I’m a huge Dave fan but I really don’t want him to show up in season three. Or if he does then for the smallest amount of time possible just to give Klaus some ‘closure’. Time travel is in the Umbrella Academy universe after all and it’s possible that by Klaus warning Dave about his faith and causing him to enlist earlier and in a different branch as a result he’s saved Dave and opened up the possibility of seeing Commission!Dave later. Which is the perfect storyline for season 4. Season three is only 10 episodes long and there’ll be a lot going on already so shoving Dave into what will already be a pretty packed season won’t give Dave the attention he deserves and will take away from the other focus. Not only that but Klaus’ motivation for the last two seasons is doing something for either Dave or Ben. I want to see Klaus train his powers either for himself or to help someone else. Also, Dave deserves the chance to grow as a character as well and making him a part of season 3 would take away from the main focus of the Umbrella’s and Sparrows. Making him a main focus in season four instead if we get one will give a great opportunity story-wise to develop both him and Klaus as individuals and as a couple.

[pedros-mustache-main]

i want your last name

summary: it’s only a year...

word count: 16k+ (holy crap i’m sorry)

warnings: idiot-strangers to lovers, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful), frightening situations & suspense, alcohol consumption and drunkenness, language, innuendo, timeline inaccuracies

a/n: please bear with me as this is my first time writing rog and i’m relatively unsure about it. anyway, have a vaguely spooky fic just in time for halloween! xoxo! also: big thank you to @ineloqueent​ for helping with this fic! y’all, she literally held my hand and walked me through every paragraph what a saint

january, 1982.

“you’re off your rocker if you think i’m going to go through with this, jim.”

from his place on the couch, john snorts. “what? afraid she won’t be pretty enough for you, rog?”

roger levels john an uncharacteristically dark look, jabbing his finger through the air like a knight brandishing his sword or a cowboy his gun. “watch your mouth, deacon.” john holds his hands upwards in surrender, and roger returns his piercing gaze to jim. “i’m not getting married. that’s absolutely out of the question.”

long-suffering band manger and unofficial rockstar wrangler, jim beach drops his face to his hands with a harsh groan. roger cringes in his seat, shifting uncomfortably. he knows what this is about; they all know what this is about.

the end-of-tour party in montreal.

god, he’d gotten so wasted. even now, two months later, he can barely remember that night.

brian, ever the diplomatic, is the first to break the tense silence. he leans forward from his place on the couch beside john and offers roger his most sympathetic look. it does nothing to ease the growing knot of dread in roger’s stomach. “maybe we should leave you and jim to talk, rog.”

jim lifts his head. “i think that might be best, yes.”

roger huffs and falls slack against his chair. he drops his head back, and the ceiling turns topsy-turvy. if jim and the rest of management get their way, his life is bound to feel the same: flipped upside down, all that he knows turned on its head.

john squeezes roger’s shoulder as he slides by, a silent expression of solidarity, but it doesn’t feel like much. john’s got a wife, a parcel of kids. he’s happy at home. roger—he’s never been that way, never seen the point in all the domestics. he isn’t about to join the bloody women’s institute just because a little fun upset a few highbrow jackasses who can’t tell a party from a funeral.

the door to jim’s office shuts with a soft click, and roger imagines the lid of his coffin closing with the same resolute noise. he sits up and runs a hand through his hair. from behind his tinted shades, jim stares across the expanse of his desk. he drums his fingers, worrying his lower lip. roger’s nose twitches to the side. jim isn’t playing around. the proposal typed and printed in the manila folder under jim’s hand is serious, deadly so.

roger removes his sunglasses.

“it was just a party, jim.”

there’s a heavy beat of silence. jim blinks once. “roger, you went streaking through a group of nuns and priests.”

roger squeezes his eyes shut against the words, thankful, for once, that he has no memory of the event. “did i?” he lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “honestly couldn’t tell you what i did or didn’t do that night.”

“you did.” jim opens the manila folder and reads from a crumbled newspaper article. “queen’s roger taylor bared all this evening after the explosive conclusion to the game tour, filmed before thousands in montreal’s biggest arena. in a rare display of vulnerability, taylor stripped naked and exposed himself in the hotel lobby where queen resided. he stood on a table and beat his chest like a wild gorilla, chanting about the success of the evening’s filmed concert. lookers-on included none other than a group of nuns and priests recently arrived to canada on special assignment from the vatican. john deacon, bassist for queen, could also be seen laughing in the background.”

jim’s hand thumps against the desk as he drops the article, his stare decidedly unimpressed. “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

running his tongue over his teeth, roger hesitates. not his best moment, he would give jim that. but if he remembers anything about that party, it’s that he wasn’t the only sinner present that evening. john had gotten into his fair share of antics; crystal, too. it seems arbitrary that he should be the one singled out for punishment—and with a strange, archaic, probably-unethical punishment at that.

he shrugs, tossing his hands up in defeat. “i’m not going to be able to say what you want me to say. it was just a party. it got a little out of control. that’s all. i’m sorry if i gave the nuns a little show. i’ll—i dunno—write a letter if you want me to.”

jim scoffs. “write a letter if you think it’ll make me feel better—which it won’t—but that’s not the issue here.”

“then what is the issue? and where the hell does marriage come into it? because i’m not seeing the connection.”

jim sighs. his desk chair creaks as he leans back. taking off his glasses, he pinches the bridge of his nose before meeting roger’s eyes again. “this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, rog. remember new orleans?”

roger holds up an accusatory finger. “you were in new orleans too, jim, so you can’t attack me on that front.”

jim leans forward, his glasses between his hands. he runs his finger back and forth across the top of the frames. “i’ll be blunt. some other people in the office think you’re becoming too—how shall i say it?—explicit for the band. you’re not twenty any more, and raucous parties don’t fit queen’s image. they’re concerned that if more incidents like this hit the press, there will be a drop in sales or concert attendance because nice, suburban families don’t want to go to a concert with a drummer who flashes nuns. do you get what i’m saying?”

roger itches his temple and pushes against the sudden pain behind his left eye. “yeah. yeah, i do.”

“the marriage thing—that was barnaby potter’s idea. if you have beef with it, take it up with him.”

it’s roger’s turn to scoff. he throws his head back on the sound and curls his hands against the cool wooden arms of his chair. when he looks back at jim, he is surprised to see the older man rifling through a filing cabinet in the corner, his back turned.

roger surges forward with his ire anyway. “of course i have beef with it! slap my ass and scold me, sure, but hitch me to a woman i don’t even know for publicity? you’ve got to be joking.”

“personally, i think it’s an idea that will work if you give it a chance.” jim returns to chair and hands roger a sealed packet. “we’ve already got it all lined up, picked the lass and everything. it’s just for a year or so, until the tabloids calm down. then you can get divorced and go your separate ways.”

“wait, hold on—you picked her? without telling me? before even approaching me with the idea?”

“roger—” jim’s tone borders on a warning, but roger ignores his better judgement and cuts the other man off.

“you won’t even give me the option to choose the woman i have to shack up with? god, jim, i’m getting fuckin’ railroaded here!”

jim clenches his jaw. “i’m sure it feels that way, and i’m sorry for that. but it’s this—well, to be frank, it’s this or you’re out. the montreal party was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.”

roger can’t be sure but he thinks he sees red. never in his life has he so badly wanted to wring someone’s neck. it takes every fiber of his being, every molecule in his body, to keep from lunging across the room and tackling jim to the floor. he bites his tongue hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. it coats his mouth in a metallic taste, but it’s nothing compared to the rage boiling in his stomach.

still, he knows what his answer must be. it’s this—a sham marriage, a year of hell—or losing the life he’s worked so hard to build.

he rips the envelope from jim’s hand as roughly as he can when he stands from his chair. he hopes he gave the man a papercut.

“i’ll do it, you bastard,” he mutters. “but i damn well won’t be happy about it.”

“you look beautiful, [y/n].”

with a playful roll of your eyes, you offer ivy a smile. “thanks, love, but you and i both know this is just part of the job.”

ivy laughs and steps closer to adjust the puffed sleeves of your dress. “it might be a job, but damn, if it isn’t a comfortable one. i just about fell out of my seat when you told me you were quitting the agency to marry roger fucking taylor.”

you slide ivy a bemused smirk in the reflection of the long, oval mirror before you. “we’re not really getting married, ivy. you know that, right?”

ivy frowns and jabs her thumb over her shoulder, confusion awash on her round face. “unless i’m mistaken, we’re at a church, you’re in a wedding dress, roger taylor is the groom, and there’s a priest waiting for you right outside. did you read the memo wrong or something? feels like a wedding to me.”

sighing, you turn away from the mirror and reach for your bouquet of flowers. the white roses interspersed with springs of green leaves smell sweet, their stems tied together with a long white ribbon. you adjust one of the wayward petals then sit on the edge of a cushioned chair to slip on your heels. ivy leans against the door, her arms crossed over her chest.

“are you happy?” she asks, her voice soft.

you look up and pause. the heel of your white mary janes squeezes around your achilles’ tendon, and you wince as you shove your foot into the shoe. “what do you mean—am i happy?”

“i dunno.” ivy shrugs. she picks at an invisible piece of lint on the shoulder of her blue bridesmaid gown. “when we were kids, you always used to talk about your wedding day. now it’s here and—”

“ivy.” you rise from the chair and cross the floor to grab her arm. when you speak, you keep your tone firm and stare into her wide, brown eyes. “i’m doing this for the money and nothing else. it’s not a big deal. i don’t even consider today my wedding day. when roger and i get divorced i’ll find some other chap and make my childhood dreams come true, but that’s not today, and i’m okay with it. so yes, i am happy. this is what i want.”

ivy doesn’t appear convinced what with the way she continues to gnaw at her lower lip and shift her concerned look about your face. but she relents when someone knocks on the door, moving to allow you to grab the doorknob.

“wait, [y/n].” you turn at the door, eyebrows lifted in expectation. “how much are you getting paid?”

you press your pointer finger to your lips. “handsomely,” you whisper, dipping your head as though you are about to spill a secret. ivy leans in. her eyes sparkle with interest, and you inwardly smirk. she’s always been a sucker for drama and intrigue, your cousin. “but,” you continue. “that’s for me to know and you not to know.”

before ivy can respond, you pull open the door to see none other than your future husband waiting for you in the vestibule of the chapel.

he stands poised to flee the premises. he’s half-turned toward the closed chapel door, his hands worrying before his waist, his gaze hinged on the flurry of life outside the chapel, visible through the windows on either side of the door. you realize he’s fiddling with an unlit cigarette, not merely rubbing his hands together in an external sign of nervousness. you can’t make out whether or not his eyes are wild with fear or anger or some other emotion; the black tint of his sunglasses obscures the majority of his eyes. he’s handsome in his suit, but, then again, he’s roger taylor. you would be surprised to find a time in which he isn’t handsome.

when you clear your throat, his head whips to face you, and his fingers stop fidgeting. “sorry,” he mutters. “i was just—” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck and sighs. “they’re ready for you.”

“okay.” you nod with a smile and hope the gesture will ease whatever consternation plagues him. “i’ll be up in a moment.”

“right.” he nods once.

from behind his shades, you see his eyes trail from the top of your head to the soles of your shoes. it’s not sexual, not lewd; he’s just inspecting you, and you don’t blame him. who are you to him other than the model pulled out of a catalog, prepared and willing to be his wife until his time served is complete? you’ve spoken only once before this moment, and that phone-call was terse at best. roger made it perfectly clear his opinions on the arrangement, and he wanted to be sure—no, he needed to be sure—you understood his feelings on the matter. you assured him you had heard him loud and clear; your ear had rung for the next hour if only to remind you of his extreme distaste.

“roger,” you say, pulling his attention back from wherever his mind has drifted off to, his stare gone vacant but hardly serene.

his eyelashes flutter as he struggles to focus. “hm?”

“i said i’ll be up in a moment. you can go in now.”

he nods again, this time his chin smacking his collarbone in his urgency. he rubs his jaw, mutters something unintelligible beneath his breath, and turns on his heel, slipping back into the chapel sanctuary with heavy footfalls. your brows rise on your forehead in the wake of his exit. ivy hovers behind your shoulder.

“that’s him?” she squeaks. “that’s roger taylor?”

“yes.” your mouth twists in pity. “poor dear. he really doesn’t want this.” after waiting the appropriate amount of time to be sure roger has made his way to the front of the church, you step towards the entryway, but not before you can ask ivy one last question. “do i look okay? the pictures taken today are bound to be published in the papers.”

ivy chuckles and shakes her head as she lightly pushes your shoulder. “you look gorgeous and you know it. now go get married to a rockstar, you lucky bitch.”

the actual wedding ceremony itself is a formality. truly, it cannot be called a ceremony. there’s no wedding march, no attendees gently dabbing their tear-filled eyes, no heartfelt vows or kiss to signal the joining of two souls. instead, there’s you and there’s roger and there’s a red-faced, balding priest who points to the solid lines on which you must affix your signature to make the marriage certificate valid. roger signs first, and his knuckles are white against the ballpoint pen. you sign second, and the pen feels overly-warm against your cool palms. the priest blesses you with a sign of the cross and promises the certificate will be notarized and sent to your home address within the week.

then it’s done. you’re married. you feel largely the same as you did this morning. if it weren’t for the giant rock on your ring finger and the recent transfer of seventy-five-thousand pounds into your bank account, you might wonder if this was all a product of your over-active imagination, run away with a plot stolen from a b-list film.

the most vital part of the day, the reason you’re here and dressed in a gown with your hair crimped and nails painted, comes right after the priest scurries away to tend to his more important duties. jim beach stands from his place in one of the pews and ushers a photographer forward. he points between you and roger.

“all right, get snug, you two.” jim chews on a large wad of gum, and his words are slurred with an excess of saliva. “just a few pictures and then we’ll go eat. we all know that’s the only reason john showed up today.”

lounged against a pew, john raises his finger in agreement, and his wife elbows him in the chest. he sputters, doubling over in pain, while freddie laughs in amusement. beside you, roger watches the interaction with a back as straight as the pew benches, his jaw tight. you push your arm around his elbow and tug lightly. he inhales before turning to meet your eyes.

“what?” his voice is not cruel or unkind; it’s just tired.

“try and look happy, yeah?” you say, offering him a gentle smile similar to the one you’d given him in the vestibule. it’s the only thing you have to give him other than your hand in marriage and a chance to salvage his reputation; yet, again, it does not alleviate the tension pinching his brow. “the faster we smile the faster we can eat.”

roger shifts, as though he wants to pull away from you, but knows he shouldn’t. his feet dance back and forth on the carpeted stairs leading to the sanctuary state. “i should be telling you to try and look happy. this is just as much an inconvenience for you.”

you shake your head with a chuckle. “hardly. i make my living pretending to be happy, or moody, or sultry. whatever the director wants. i’m a pro at this. and besides,” you add. “it’s my job to make you look good. though, to be honest, that’s not very hard. you look good all on your own.”

roger sniffs and rubs the underside of his nose. he ignores your compliment and keeps his eyes trained on the photographer setting up his equipment at the base of the stairs. “maybe i could use some tips…”

he’s being glib but you take the opportunity to try and break the ice—the rock solid, absolutely frigid, polar ice-cap style ice—between you both. holding up a finger to the photographer, you slide to stand in front of roger. he’s taller than you, not by much, but enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye-contact. his blue eyes very much resemble the ice with which he’s surrounded himself. you can feel the chill on his shoulders, even as you smooth the wrinkles on his tailored dress-shirt.

“whenever i have to fake a smile,” you say, adjusting his thin tie. “i always think about the thing that makes me happiest.” he doesn’t ask you to expand, but you do anyway. “for me, it’s when my cousin ivy moved in with my mother and me. i was seven and she was six and it’s been one giant slumber party ever since.”

“is that your cousin?” roger’s eyes flick to the girl sitting across the aisle from the band and management. ivy has her hands beneath her thighs, her head dipped, her dark black hair covering a curtain over her face.

you nod. “mhmm.”

“she doesn’t look like you.”

you lift an eyebrow. “she’s adopted.”

“right, sorry.” roger exhales deeply, and the weight of the world slips from one of his shoulders to the other, tilting his body in a stiff hunch. “i’m feeling out of sorts today, as you can probably imagine.”

“just think about what makes you happy, roger.” you dare to lift a hand and press it against his cheek. his skin is smooth beneath your fingers. he must have shaved his morning. he looks boyish up close, and you wonder if, like you, he had ever dreamt of what his wedding day might look like. you wonder if, like you, he had given up those dreams to make today a reality.

the photographer takes a picture of your hand against roger’s cheek, and the sudden flash of light has you blinking in surprise. you look over your shoulder, mouth slightly parted and eyelashes fluttering to clear the white spots over your vision.

the photographer just shrugs. “ready now?”

the shrill of a ringing telephone wakes you the morning after the wedding, and you groan, pulled from a heavy slumber by the incessant and high-pitched tone. there’s a dull ache at the base of your skull, and your tongue feels like it’s coated with a fine layer of sand. beside you, a man snores softly, his face pink and eyelashes soft on his cheekbones.

oh yes, that’s right. you’re married to roger taylor, aren’t you? you’d drunk so much at the celebration supper that you’d nearly forgotten. the evening itself is but a hazy memory, but you think you recall freddie imitating a russian style jig atop a table, and phoebe going into great detail about all the fabulous dress-up parties you’ll be expected to attend now.

one thing you can’t remember is how you ended up in roger’s bed, dressed in one of his oversized t-shirts. your hair is still stiff with sticky hairspray, your legs still encased in a pair of nylon tights, and you don’t feel… sated, for lack of a better word. it’s probably safe to assume that you did not sleep with roger; you merely slept beside him. why you didn’t take up residence in his guest room will be the first question out of your mouth once his day starts. 

you might be his wife and he might be your husband, but you don’t want him getting any funny ideas about the nature of your relationship.

this is a job for you. nothing more.

the phone continues ringing and, lest roger wake before he is ready, you move to reach across him for the phone on his bedside table. you speak into the receiver on a whisper, adjusting your fist on the mattress to keep from falling flat on roger’s stomach.

“hello?”

“uh—hi.” there’s a pause, as if the speaker is uncertain how to react to your voice on roger’s line. “is this [y/n]?”

“yes. who is this?”

“it’s brian. we met yesterday.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “yes, i know who you are, brian.”

he chuckles softly. “sorry—i can’t remember much of last evening. it’s probably best i make a second introduction if i can’t recall the first.”

“well then, i’m [y/n] [y/l/n]. [y/n] taylor now, i suppose. pleased to meet you.”

“brian may. the pleasure is all mine. ours, really—me and the guys. what you’re doing is—we appreciate it, truly. you’ve saved the band, in a way.”

“that’s kind of you, brian.” you glance at roger out of the corner of your eye. he hasn’t moved a muscle, and his face is the most serene you’ve ever seen it. saved the band? you doubt it. smoothed a few ruffled feathers? that’s certainly more likely. “it’s no trouble, though. it’s just my job. what was it you called for?”

“roger was supposed to be at the studio an hour ago. we have a recording session today.”

“shit, really?” pressing the receiver to your shoulder, you twist your wrist upwards, but find your watch missing. you scan the unfamiliar room. a digital clock glows red on a built-in bookshelf. “is it really nearly one o’clock?!”

“afraid so.”

“shit, i’m sorry. i only just woke up. yesterday was hectic—to say the very least. i’ll have roger out the door in half an hour.”

“thanks, [y/n]. you’ll find this happens a lot after a night out. but, hey, at least you’re not shouting at me like rog does.”

after passing pleasantries a moment more—brian asks you about ivy, who you are surprised he remembers, and you ask him about his stargazing habits—you reassure brian that roger will be on his way as soon as possible. you drop the receiver on its base with more force than necessary, but the crack of plastic on plastic and the slight ring of the internal bell gets roger moving.

he grunts, twisting his head away from the noise.

you shake his shoulder gently. “wakey wakey, sleeping beauty. the day is already half gone.”

roger yawns as his eyes blink open. he rubs a hand down his face and arches his back like a cat as he stretches. slumping back against his pillows, he stares at you for a moment, his eyes roaming your face.

“are you an angel?”

you laugh at this, and he winces, holding the heel of his hand to his forehead. “no. i’m your wife. are you still drunk?”

“maybe a little.” his eyelashes flutter rapidly as he adjusts to the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. he waves his hand around your head, and you lean back slightly, away from the exposed skin of his chest and striking collarbones. “you look like an angel with the sun all around your head. ‘s like a halo.”

“that’s kind of you.”

he shrugs, shaking his head. “just sayin’.”

“i think you’re still drunk.”

as if to prove your point, he hiccups then falls to his side on the bed. “maybe.” his cheek is pressed firmly against the mattress, smushing half of his face flat. soft, steady breaths filter in and out of his parted lips, and his eyelids begin to grow heavy as he is dragged back to his dream world. he looks more tired child than grown man, but the sight is endearing. still, your current job is getting him out the door and on his way to the studio. you can’t let him be any later than he already is.

“oh no, you don’t.” grabbing his arm, you pull as you slide from the bed. roger resists your strength and moves to push his entire face against the mattress. he mumbles something against the sheets, but you can’t make out the words. “brian already called. you’re late, pretty boy.”

roger rolls over onto his back, and the movement causes you to lose your grip on his wrist. you stumble backwards then plant your hands on your hips.

“come on, roger. you’ve got to get up.”

“i don’t want to. yesterday was shit, and all i want to do is stay in bed.”

with a sigh, you gather your wedding dress from its heap on the floor. you lay it over your forearm and pull open the closet door. “nice to know you thought our wedding day was shit,” you say. 

you mean it only as a joke, but roger sits up fast, swaying slightly with the movement. he catches your eye as you exit the walk-in closet, and you pause, turning the light off slowly, held by his angry stare.

“fuck off,” he says. “i don’t want this. i don’t want you.”

to say his words don’t sting would be a falsehood. no one wants to hear such a thing, least of all from their spouse. the words make your heart clench painfully in your chest, and you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. he doesn’t look at you, though; he cradles his forehead in his hands, his back hunched where he sits on the edge of the bed.

inhaling deeply, you reach up and begin to remove some of the pins lost in your hair. you head for the bedroom door. “well, while you sit and sulk, i’ll pack you a lunch. you’d better shower, though. you reek.”

from your place puttering about the kitchen, you hear the shower start up a few moments later. good—at least he’s moving. you haven’t the foggiest idea where anything is in his kitchen, but you make do with what you can find in the poorly stocked fridge, and pack him a light lunch. you start a pot of coffee, too, and lean against the counter as you wait for the pot to fill.

the ancient coffee pot takes too long, and you can hear roger humming in the shower down the hall. 

your nails tap against the counter. 

you’re antsy, unsure of what to do with yourself now that the wedding is over. how do you be a wife to someone who doesn’t want a wife? how do you be a friend to someone who doesn’t want a friend?

it’s too big of a problem to solve in the span of time it takes for roger to finish his shower, so you slip into the bedroom and peel off your stockings and his tee-shirt. you put on a sweater, some jeans, and wipe the day-old makeup from your face with a wet-wipe. the movements are tried and true, and they calm your racing thoughts. 

you have an entire year to figure out how to live with roger taylor. you don’t need to have it all figured out this morning.

the coffee pot dings, its job complete, just as you and roger both enter the kitchen.

but he hesitates before taking another step, and so do you. 

his hair is wet from the shower. a white sweatshirt swallows his torso. part of the hem is tucked into his white-washed jeans, and you’re struck by the narrowness of his hips. the weariness is gone from his face, replaced with a youthful sort of glow and stubborn cheekiness. you aren’t sure how he’s managed it, but he looks well-rested. 

you lift a hand to your cheek. you must look a state. it takes a lot longer for you to put yourself back together after a night out.

he stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head and crosses the kitchen to fill a travel mug with hot coffee. gnawing on your lower lip, you lean your hip bones against the kitchen island as he putters about the room, quiet as the grave.

it’s only your first day as husband and wife, and under such unique circumstances, you shouldn’t expect him to—what? make conversation? ask about you and your life?

“so… what do you think you’ll work on today? in the studio, i mean.”

he glances over his shoulder then shrugs. “not sure. probably something related to the rest of the tour.” bending at the waist, he pulls a drawer out from beneath the sink. his ass looks good in those jeans, but you doubt he’d like you staring, so you look away, mouth screwed to the side. “do you know where the sugar packets are?”

you frown and push away from the island, rounding it to stand beside him. “no?” he turns at the sound of your confused voice, and his head jolts backward to see you standing so close. “i don’t live here, remember?”

“well, you do now.” he swivels on his heel and pulls a small white jar across the counter. lifting the lid, he sighs. “i can’t find the sugar.”

“actually, about living here now...” you follow as he starts for the door, grabbing his keys from a small table in the foyer. “the bedroom situation? i figured we’d have separate bedrooms but last night—”

roger opens the front door and silences you with a hard stare. “the only other bedroom is my practice room.”

your shoulders slump. “oh.”

“i wasn’t going to make it a guest room if you’ll be gone in a year.”

“but where will i—”

“fuck it all, [y/n].” he curls his hand around the doorframe, hanging his head. a cold winter breeze sweeps through the hall, and you pull your jumper tight around your waist. “just sleep in my bed, okay? i don’t fuckin’ care.”

you swallow hard, nod. you’d been prepared for some measure of hostility, some measure of resentment. what you hadn’t been prepared for is the way his rebuffs settle like dead weight in your stomach. he alone can be blamed for this; it was his actions that drove management to force you upon him. yet, he seems to look at you with nothing more than dread and disgust. perhaps it is because you are the physical embodiment of his wrongdoing. his antics created you, and he is powerless to wipe you from his eyesight as he might a clump of dirt. you are a permanent stain—at least for the next year.

maybe you can’t begrudge him his disdainful attitude, then.

you come to when a car horn blares outside. 

roger is gone, the door open, void of his claustrophobic presence. leaning around the frame, you catch sight of him and his blond hair as he reaches his car parked on the side of the road. spinning on your heel, you grab his sacked lunch from the fridge and race after him.

“roger!”

he looks up from his car door, and you can’t help but note the way his shoulders lift, tensing at the sight of you running barefoot down the sidewalk. the winter air quickens your steps, and you’re out of breath and huffing when you reach his side. white plumes escape your mouth and drift towards the gray sky.

“you forgot this,” you say, pushing the brown paper sack against his chest. you curl your toes against the frigid bricks beneath your feet.

his brow pinches. “what is it?”

“a lunch. you haven’t eaten yet.”

for the first time since meeting him, the ghost of a true smile lifts the corners of his mouth as he stares down at the sacked lunch. he lifts a hand, and you are surprised by its warmth when he covers your knuckles with his palm. his eyes flick upwards, meeting yours.

“thanks, [y/n].” he tilts his head to the side. “i’m sorry i’ve been a prick. this is all… really new for me.”

you slip your hand from his grasp, sure that your smile is somewhere between girlish and shy. a sharp wind whips through the stitching of your sweater, and you shiver.   

“we’ll figure it out,” you say, and it’s a message to both him and yourself. you will figure this out.

“yeah.” he slides his key into the slot on the car door. “yeah, we will.”

“oh. rog, wait.” you stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder. when he twists at the waist, you wind your arms around his neck before he has time to react. you squeeze tight, your toes skimming the ground. he feels firm, stiff like a board. “hug me back,” you whisper against his ear. “there’s someone across the street taking photos.”

the sound he makes in your ear—a grumble, a low growl—sends your blood pumping into overdrive. he’s angry, but he dutifully embraces you as any newlywed husband might. his arms are strong around your lower back, and you melt into him.

god, he feels good. you can’t remember the last time you were held like this. he smells like the soap from his shower, and his sweatshirt is soft. his hair brushes against your cheek, and your eyelashes flutter in response. you should pull away; you’ve hugged him long enough to appear the besotted wife, desperate for her husband to stay home the day after their wedding. the paparazzi surely got what they wanted.

so, why is it so hard for you to let go?

you shake yourself free of the feeling, whether it be longing or desire or something else entirely.

sliding your hands across roger’s shoulders, you drop from your raised stance. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, quick and without hesitation. just in case.

“go on.” you hurry to step back, to allow him the space the leave. “you don’t want to keep the boys waiting any longer.”

roger’s eyes linger a moment more, his stare somewhere between searching and assessing. then he mumbles an oath beneath his breath, wrenches open his car door, and slips inside. the door slams behind him, and the engine roars to life. you retreat further at the sound, wrapping your arms around your stomach when the car tires squeal against gravel in his haste to get away.

some blissfully wed husband he makes.

biting the inside of your lip, you turn back to the house. the front door remains open wide, and it’s likely the heat has long since left the warmth of the halls. you pause long enough to lift the paper from the front stoop. what you see beneath the fold makes you hesitate all the longer.

there’s a photo of you and roger on the left side of the page beneath the headline, roger taylor marries model. the grainy, black and white image of your wedding day presents you, the smiling bride, and roger, the smiling husband, joined hand-in-hand beneath a heavy wooden cross. to the untrained eye, all is joy in the taylor household. the article describes the ceremony, though the details are patchy and entirely false, as intimate and “drenched with love.”

you scoff before you can stop yourself. clearly, the author of the article has encountered roger taylor under duress.

but it’s not the article which holds you frozen to the front stoop, your exposed toes and fingers sticking like icicles to the newspaper. rather, it’s the smear of red paint slashed over your picture. it’s the word slag scrawled over the article, an arrow pointed in the direction of the wedding photo.

still, in a one-on-one meeting you’d had with jim beach prior to the wedding, he’d warned you of something like this. though all four queen members are undeniably attractive, it is roger who makes the fans go gaga.

maybe it’s his boyish good looks contrasted with his raspy voice. maybe it’s the frenzy with which he plays, his easy charm and sunkissed skin. whatever it is—roger’s fans are a possessive lot.

jim had told you to prepared for a few nasty letters or scathing criticism in the papers. he had told you it wouldn’t last long, just until the initial shock of the marriage wore off, just until roger’s fans accepted the reality that they were not be his lawfully wedded wife.

so, truly, the first incident does not scare you. you just hadn’t realized the scrutiny would begin so soon. if anything, the painted paper makes you chuckle. roger’s fans certainly don’t like to waste time.

you toss the paper in the bin beside the stoop, and it’s forgotten before the day is over.

a week bleeds into a month, and you find yourself falling into some semblance of a life with roger.

you cohabitate for the most part. he does not outright rebuff your attempts at friendship, nor does he accept any olive branch you extend.

conversation is stilted, his contributions terse and monosyllabic. he prefers your home-cooked meals be eaten before the television, and not at the dinner table, where he would be forced to engage with you. he doesn’t even give in when you ask if there’s anything he’d like to rant about. he just shakes his head and bangs on his drums well into the evening, despite having banged on them the whole day at the studio.

yet he sleeps beside you, allows you to sleep beside him.

without fail, he appears more at ease come nightfall. he sheds whatever protective shell he wears throughout the day in favor of something softer, something more tender. you’re not sure what changes him when he walks over the threshold of the bedroom, but something does. perhaps it’s the soft lamplight or the hum of the fan he insists be kept on despite the chill of winter.

there’s a part of you that wonders if it might be your very presence that softens him, but you’ve taken to silencing that part as of late. he’s long-since proven that you hold no sway over him whatsoever, and that’s okay. your job is to be a buffer between his antics and the all-seeing eyes of the public. nothing more.

two months to the day after your wedding, you’re stood in the hallway, slipping on a pair of earrings, and brushing away roger’s hurried attempts to get you through the door. he has one hand on the doorknob, the other wrist tilted to expose his watch face.

“[y/n], please!”

“roger, the party doesn’t start until queen arrives. give me just a minute more.”

tonight, the savoy hotel, the first music industry party you’ll attend by roger’s side as his wife.

you’re nervous.

your hands shake as you press the earrings into your ears, and you rub your lips back and forth, feeling the slick lipstick rub over the flesh. you’re thankful the dress you chose is a gauzy sort of chiffon. if you sweat, no one will be able to tell, thanks to the pale blue of the fabric.

impatient as ever, roger drags himself from the door to stand behind you, as though prepared to throw you over his shoulder. however, a smirk pulls at your mouth when he pauses in his frustration long enough to primp and preen his hair in the mirror. you catch his eye, your fingers paused in snapping your clutch closed. he sees your smirk, and his own lips pull on a wry smile.

the moment hangs in the air, thick with—what? tension? no. something else. camaraderie comes to mind.

your eyes remain locked with his, and his grin spreads until he is shaking his head with amusement. he pushes your shoulder, but the touch is friendly, almost brotherly in nature.

“come on,” he says. “i don’t want to miss all the good wine.”

nodding, you start for the door, trailing behind him to flick the lights off. darkness engulfs the house, the only light the white glow of the moon spilling through the window above the kitchen sink and a night light plugged in along the hallway baseboard.

but then the phone rings.

roger stamps his foot against the floor, the door already half-open. “fuckin’ hell!”

“let me get it.” you’re halfway down the hall before he can stop you. “i’ll tell them to buzz off. hold on!”

“i’m going to get the car started,” he says. his voice echoes through the hall to meet you where the phone hangs in the kitchen. “you have two minutes, [y/n]. two minutes!”

lifting the phone from the receiver, you press it against your ear. “hello?”

at first, you hear nothing on the other end.

but you’re sure you heard the phone ring, so you lean closer to the receiver and plug your opposite ear in a piss poor attempt to hear better. “hello? this is [y/n] taylor speaking.”

the sound of heavy breathing—deep inhales, hard exhales—meets your ear. deep inhale, hard exhale. over and over and over.

your throat tightens, but you push past the lump. “hello? who’s there?”

a stuttering of breath on the inhale, a shaky exhale. a croak, voice poised to speak.

only you slam the phone back on the receiver before the person on the other end can say a word.

for a moment, you stand still, eyes glued to the phone, mouth parted in shock.

but then roger honks the car horn, and you shake yourself free of the unsettling feeling. a missed connection, you tell yourself. a wrong number. a mistake. that’s all it was—a mistake.

still, you are shaking when you slide into the passenger seat of roger’s car. he glances at you before pulling into the busy street.

“are you cold?” he asks. he turns the heat up, blasting the air against your face. “you’re shaking.”

“no,” you say, and, truly, you aren’t. he loaned you an ostentatious fur coat for the occasion, lined with a smooth brown fabric, and you are comfortably warm beneath the heavy material. “just nervous.”

roger snorts, his eyes sliding to you. “nervous? surely you’ve been to parties before. you’re a model, for god’s sake.”

“i’m not sure what kind of model you think i was, rog. i did mostly print, never runway. parties were never a part of my nine-to-five.”

“oh.” his mouth screws to the side. “i guess—well, to be honest, i kinda thought models all did the same kind of work.”

“most people do. that’s in the past now, though.” you shift, glance out the window, and watch the streetlights blur in a hazy streak of orange and yellow. he’s driving fast, and you grip the side of the door, willing your heart to stop racing.

the car slows to a stop beneath a red light. roger taps his fingers on the steering wheel, and the silence in the car is deafening.

you should strike up a conversation. he seems willing tonight, and maybe that’s due to the cramped nature of the car, but it’s an opportunity nonetheless.

only you can’t stop thinking about the phone call, about the heavy breathing and the unanswered questions. you shut your eyes and find yourself mirroring the caller’s breathing patterns.

deep inhale, hard exhale.

“so, you’re done with modeling?”

you open your eyes and turn to look at his profile. why he insists on wearing sunglasses in the dead of night you will never understand, but the sight alone makes you smirk. he knows he’s attractive; you have to give him credit for embracing it.

“that’s why i married you,” you say.

roger laughs—and you realize it’s probably the first time you’ve heard the sound. his laugh aligns with the light timbre of his voice, and the anxiety in your chest eases to hear him sound something other than malcontent.

“i knew you were a gold digger!” it’s a joke—you can tell by the quirk of his mouth and the lines around his eyes—but you rush to defend yourself all the same.

“no, i’m not!” you hesitate before shrugging with a rueful chuckle. “well… maybe a little. i won’t deny that the money i get from this arrangement really helps. i was looking for a way out of modeling, anyway.”

“really?” roger’s eyebrow arches, and, as the car turns into the savoy, the wrap-around drive clogged with limousines, sport cars, and photographers jostling for a good spot, you catch a glimpse of admiration on his face. “what do you want to do now?”

“i’m not sure. go back to school. i’ve got a head for maths, so maybe accounting or something.”

roger twists his head to meet your eyes, and his smile is earnest. it steals the breath from your lungs.

deep inhale, hard exhale.

“you don’t strike me as an accountant, dove.”

“why not?”

“accountants are stuffy, greasy men. you’re… you know…” he waves a hand, inches the car forward as the line moves. camera bulbs flash in the world outside, but within the car, all you can focus on is roger and his next words.

“i’m…?” you’re fishing, but this is the first time he’s given you more than the time of day, and you’re eager to get something, anything, out of your husband.

he shrugs, and his hands curl around the steering wheel. a muscle in his jaw ticks. “you’re too nice.”

you look away. “ah—nice.” not what you’d been expecting him to say.

he pulls the car to a stop along the hotel’s entrance, and a sharply dressed attendant opens the door. sliding out after roger, you instinctively reach for his hand. he spares you a short glance and squeezes your fingers together in a gesture of encouragement.

a black—not red—carpet lines the walkway from the drive to the open hotel doors. velvet ropes hold back the crowd of photographers, reporters, and fans lucky enough to have squeezed their way to such a prime viewing spot. camera flashes paint the inside of your eyelids with bright, white spots. despite the chill of winter, the air is hot, heady with glitz and glamor. it’s hard to distinguish any one voice over the plethora of people vying for attention, and your head swims in the chaos of it all.

roger moves easily from one side of the rope to another. he is in his element, grinning for the cameras and joking with reporters who grab him long enough for a quote. his moments with the press are short, few and far between. he much prefers the fans—their simpering smiles, tear-stained cheeks, and waving slips of paper begging for a signature. you don’t blame him. who could ever resist such unfettered adoration?

near the end of the carpet, a reporter snags roger’s attention with his waving arm. palm still clasped in roger’s, you trail behind your husband, hovering just behind his shoulder. the cool smile you perfected in your modeling days remains fixed on your face, even as the reporter acknowledges you with a tilt of his head.

“is this your wife, roger?”

the reporter has to shout to be heard over the sudden surge of excitement as a new celebrity takes their first step on the carpet. it’s kate bush, if you aren’t mistaken. you could be wrong, though. the reporter’s query pricks your ears, dividing your focus between the cacophony around you and the question at hand. thus far, you’ve remained nameless by roger’s side. no one—fan or press alike—has asked after you, and you’re happy for it.

roger turns to look at you, and his grin spreads. he goes so far as to slip his arm around your waist, tugging you against his side, keeping his gaze on your profile. a sudden rush of blood floods your cheeks, and you duck your head beneath his watchful eyes. yet you find your own smile widening. the action is not one you have to force or fake, though. it’s easy to smile when roger is smiling.

“yes, this is my bride,” roger says. “[y/n].”

the hand he’s placed on your waist squeezes the flesh of your hip, pushing you further against him. to keep from tripping over your own legs, you press a hand against his chest to steady yourself. you can feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers; his heart pulses to a steady rhythm. your own heart beats twice as fast.

the reporter checks something on his small pad of paper. “is it true that you used to be a model, [y/n]? there are rumors that this marriage is a publicity stunt.” he hesitates, glancing over his shoulder as someone bumps his back, pushing him against the velvet rope. once righted, he continues. “there are rumors that you were hired to get the press to stop talking negatively about the montreal incident.”

you open your mouth to speak, but roger jumps in before you can utter a single syllable.

“are you joking?” he tosses his head back in an easy laugh and pulls you even tighter against his side. you’re afraid if he draws you any nearer you will absorb into him completely. but with the way the lights dance off his eyelashes and his hair looks perfectly tousled and his body feels strong against yours, you aren’t sure that would be a bad thing.

“i’m crazy about my wife!” he says, and the words go straight to your heart like a wildfire. “you should get yourself one, mate.” he playfully slaps the reporter’s upper arm. “they’re great fun!”

the reporter arches an eyebrow. “it’s just that i know you’ve gone on record as not exactly believing in marriage and—”

“what do you want me to do? kiss ‘er? would that make you happy?” a shit-eating grin rises on his face, indignant and cocky all at once. he shoots you a look out of the corner of his eye; you bite your lip. “will that get you off my back?”

“that’s not really—”

“here.” he taps the wrist of a bystanding photographer then points to you, twisting his body so that you stand face to face. “put this in your bloody paper!”

grabbing either side of your face, roger dips his head to capture your lips with his. for a moment, you remain unsure. you hold fast to his wrists, your mouth unmoving. the blood in your veins stands frozen in shock, and your heart presses painfully against your ribcage. somewhere in the back of your mind, your conscious screams for you to react, to play along, but it’s not until roger slides one hand from your cheek to the small of your back that you register what part you must play.

thank god it’s not a difficult role.

with a tilt of your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold tight. he tastes faintly of cigarettes and the mints he uses to freshen his breath. his lips are soft, softer than you’d anticipated. you can hear the clicking of cameras, feel the blinding light of flashbulbs pierce your eyelids, sense the growing interest in your display of affection, but none of it penetrates the bubble—the bubble of you and roger, of his lips and your lips, of his arms holding you close, his very air becoming yours.

he pulls away entirely too soon, and his smile is all the more cheeky. you press your fingertips to your lips, lower your face, and draw in a sharp breath.

“there! that could enough for you?”

roger steers you away from the reporters and into the sanctuary of the hotel at last. a rush of cool air meets you and, though it is mid-winter, you sweat beneath roger’s fur coat. the gentle whoosh of air-conditioning is a blessing against your hot skin.

as you enter the ballroom transformed for the event, roger lowers his mouth to your ear. “sorry about that, poppet.” the low register of his voice and the feeling of his breath against the back of your neck sends a shiver down your spine. “i’ve dealt with that tosser before, and he really grinds my gears.”

“‘s fine, roger,” you manage to say through your tight throat. “it’s what i’m here for, yeah?”

he stops walking, and his hand moves from your back to your wrist. his eyes drift over your face, calculating, searching. you let him look. you aren’t sure what he’s looking for, but you get the feeling that he’s truly seeing you for the first time. even in the manufactured blue light of the room, even with the myriad of tables surrounded by producers and singers and agents alike, his face visibly softens and his hand curls around your wrist.

“roger! [y/n]! over here!”

three tables away, freddie waves his hand, beckoning you over. roger drags you along, his fingers intertwining with yours as you sidestep people already lounging at their seats. once at the table set aside for queen and guests, roger pulls out your chair, and you sit, smoothing your hands over your skirt. he sits beside you and leans to his side to whisper something to john. on your right sits chrissie may, and you offer her a smile in greeting.

the function—a charity benefit organized to bring awareness to the falklands disagreement—comes and goes without issue. the dinner is bland, but the wine is good. chrissie is pleasant, and it’s your first chance to speak to another band member’s wife since the wedding. you appreciate her advice, laugh at her stories, and enjoy yourself without restraint. it doesn’t hurt that as roger drinks more, he more pays attention to you. you really shouldn’t encourage him, but when he slings an arm around your chair and pulls you closer, when he turns his head to whisper a joke in your ear at brian’s expense, when he plays with a loose lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger, it’s all you can do not to melt like the ice-sculpture in the center of the room.

come the end of the event, you find yourself walking between chrissie and veronica, your steps slow as the boys stumble through the hall. roger and john cannot stop laughing, though no one has said anything remotely funny for the last few minutes. they cling to one another like koalas to trees, as though the other might drop to the ground if released. brian and freddie aren’t any better. they sing off-key, their voices bouncing off the empty walls and laminate floors. you aren’t sure what part of the hotel you’ve wound up in, but it’s certainly less plush than the ballroom. still, you smile when roger slides his sunglasses over his eyes and snorts at one of john’s inane comments.

your smile falters when the sound of veronica’s labored breathing, pregnant as she is, reaches your ears.

deep inhale, hard exhale.

in the flurry of the evening—amidst the kiss and the dinner and the joking and the drinking—you’d forgotten about the phone call.

chrissie reaches out to grab your arm when your steps stutter. “are you okay?” she asks.

you stop walking. if the boys get into trouble around the corner, you’ll surely hear it.

meeting chrissie’s wide eyes, you frown. you hate the put a damper on the evening’s chipper mood, but the memory of the phone call crashes to the surface, bringing with it anxiety and unease. roger doesn’t need to know, but perhaps the other wives experienced a similar phenomenon. perhaps it’s all in your head. either way, you’d like a second opinion.

“this is going to sound weird, but… have either of you ever gotten a strange phone call?”

“phone call?” veronica rubs a hand over her swollen stomach. “what do you mean?”

you explain the events prior to your departure earlier in the evening, and the concerned looks that settle on chrissie and veronica’s faces stir the uncertainty in your stomach.

“that doesn’t sound good, [y/n],” chrissie says.

you gnaw at your lower lip. “no, i suppose it doesn’t.”

“have you told rog?”

you shake your head. “i don’t want to trouble him. not if it’s just some practical joke. it very well could be our kid neighbor having a lark.”

another memory drifts to the surface: the newspaper, the red paint dripping across your photograph. slag, they’d written.

you’d forgotten about that too.

veronica pulls you back to the present with her even tone. “i think you should tell him. if someone is harassing you, even if it’s just the once, don’t you think he should know?”

“i guess but—”

“hey, party people!” john sticks his head around the corner, breaking the conversation with his over-loud voice. “guess what we found?”

“judging by your wet trousers, i’d say a pool.”

john trips down the hall to grab veronica’s arm. “have i ever told you that you’re brilliant?” he presses a noisy kiss to her cheek, and even veronica isn’t capable of remaining firm under such affection.

like a child who has found an interesting twig, john crooks his arm in a follow-me motion, tugging his wife toward the pool. “come on. come see!”

veronica follows john around the corner, but before you can follow, chrissie presses her palm to your shoulder.

“you should tell roger,” she says. “before it gets serious.”

you nod, promise her you will, then make your way to the indoor swimming pool, knowing full well roger won’t hear a word of the incident.

the savoy’s pool room is understated in comparison with the rest of the hotel. though the ceiling stretches high, skylights allowing moonlight to shimmer over the undisturbed water, the room is just as hot, just as stuffy, as any other hotel pool. you drop your coat and rog’s to a plastic lounge chair as soon as you enter, swamped as you are by the thick air.

all nerves, all worries about the phone call, fade away as you slip your shoes off and watch roger and john’s poor poolside rendition of abbott and costello’s “who’s on first” routine. roger can’t keep up with john no matter how hard he tries, but their combined effort is valiant.

laughing, you clap as they take their theatrical bows and only laugh harder when john trips over the edge of the pool mid-bow. he lands belly-first in the clear water, rising a sputtering, drenched mess, his hair and clothes sodden to the bone, though his eyes are bright with mischief. he swims to where veronica sits with her ankles in the water and, before she can sternly admonish him, has her pulled into the churning pool beside him.

brian is next in. he cannonballs in the deep end, and chrissie follows of her own volition. the impact of their jump launches a tidal wave of water in your direction, and you screech, nearly falling in your attempt to avoid getting wet.

but then a pair of arms wrap around your waist, lifting you from the cool, albeit slippery, floor.

“roger, no!” you twist in his tight hold. “no, roger, don’t!”

your voice echoes in the room, bouncing off the windows and walls; yet roger ignores your pleas for release. he shuffles to the edge of the pool at the behest and cheering of his friends, each treading water, watching as you struggle to break free.

the water beneath your feet rises and falls, sloshing this way and that. you can see the bottom of the pool from where roger holds you, and there’s a delicate, inlaid design of a turtle twelve feet down on the pool’s stone foundation.

you curl your nails in roger’s arm. “roger, i can’t—”

he tosses you in before you can finish the sentence.

you fall through the air with a scream, land on your back, and sink beneath the surface of the water. chemically-laced water fills your mouth, your nose, and your lungs scream for air.

for a moment, fear grips you, not unlike the way it gripped you in the hallway of your own home, the phone cradled against your ear. only this time, you know exactly what will happen if you don’t get help.

this is not a battle you can win yourself.

kicking to the top, you break through the water and cough, shaking your head. tears cloud your vision when you open your eyes, but the liquid that’s caught in your eyelashes disguises them, and for that you’re thankful. roger bobs beside you, a grin on his face, looking much too pleased with himself and his antics. without a second thought, you reach for him.

“roger, i can’t swim,” you say.

his face falls. “oh.” he blinks then, realization striking as you grab onto his shoulders. “fuck, [y/n]. i’m sorry.”

clinging to him, you wrap your arms around his chest, your legs around his waist. you rest your cheek against the back of his neck and sigh, inhaling deeply. “i tried to tell you,” you whisper.

beneath the water, his hand curls around the skin of your ankle. he squeezes, and it’s all the apology you need.

the band stays in the pool for entirely too long. freddie starts talking about the next album, and the other boys chime in, clamoring for their opinions to be heard over the others. despite their drunken state, music brings a sense of clarity to their speech and thought. it’s their life’s work and something about which they care deeply. there’s no denying that. even when brian tries his hand at a backwards flip and freddie challenges john to a diving contest, they are always thinking, always working, toward their next goal. you admire them for that.

roger remains steady where he stands. you cling to him like a barnacle, even though you just as easily could remove yourself and find a place where your feet touch solid ground. he feels nice, though. his body is a comfort against yours, and as the business talk continues, your head lolls to the side on his shoulder, a gentle smile on your lips.

you could get used to this.

at some point, veronica complains about her aching back and drags john from the pool. they are the first to leave, but brian and chrissie soon follow. you aren’t sure if you want to go, if you want the evening to end. if it means roger will go back to ignoring you, shoving you aside, you think you could stay in this pool until your skin wilted and dripped off your bones.

“we’d better go, love,” roger whispers.

you know he’s right.

“yeah.” you try to keep the disappointment from your voice.

he moves to the side of the pool, and you heave yourself over the edge. your dress is heavy, weighed down by the absorbed water. you wring out the skirt as best you can, but until you can give it a proper wash and dry, it’s really no use. gooseflesh breaks out on your arms where the cool air hits, and you shiver.

roger appears behind you, turns you gently with a hand to the shoulder, and lifts a fluffy white towel. “here. i found these.”

“oh!” you move to take the towel from his grasp. “thank you.”

“i’ve got it.” with a smile—a boyish, gentle sort of smile—roger unfurls the towel and wraps it around your shoulders. he tugs the corners beneath your chin and laughs through a short breath. “comfy?”

you nod, pressing your face against the warm fabric.

“you look like a marshmallow.”

lifting your mouth from behind the towel, you tilt your head with an impish grin. “you once told me i looked like an angel. so, which is it? angel or marshmallow?”

“oh, angel for sure.” he thumbs a finger over the end of your nose. “you always look like an angel.”

you roll your eyes and hope the action does not expose the sudden flutter in your chest. “you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re drunk.”

he shakes his head. “no. i mean it.”

he looks at you for a long time. you look at him for just as long. the unease cadence of your breath, the way his breath whistles through his nose, the lap of the pool against the tiled walls—it all sounds so loud to your ears, though nothing can compare to the beating of your heart. it fills your entire body: bump bump, bump bump, bump bump. your cheeks feel hot with blush, and you finally look away, casting your eyes to the floor. you wiggle your bare feet against the tiled floor; roger wiggles his toes back.

“we should go home,” you say.

“yeah.”

roger pays an attendant to ferry you home, and the drive leaves your entire body close to overheating.

the back seat of his car feels strangely intimate compared to the front seat, but that might just be your imagination. surely, roger didn’t sit so close to you on purpose. surely, his hand isn’t pressed against your leg because he wants it to be. his car is just… cramped.

“did you have fun tonight?” you break the silence, but when you do, your voice sounds strange—slightly strangled, nervous, earthy—and you wish you’d remained quiet. you continue toying with a loose thread on your coat, ignoring the way roger’s eyes traverse your profile.

“mhm. did you?”

you nod, but don’t look up.

from the driver’s seat, the attendant coughs, and your gaze shifts.

deep inhale, hard exhale.

chrissie’s words of earlier surface in your mind: you should tell him about the phone call. it’s only right.

twisting, you look to your right, meet roger’s eyes, and promptly lose all sense of direction. his face is so near, his mouth parted, eyes hooded, cheeks flushed. your throat runs dry, but you can’t look away.

“roger–”

“hmm?” his lips tighten, but his smile is just as sly as it had been the moment before he kissed you in front of the reporters. the touch still lingers on your mouth, but you will the memory away.

“there’s something i should—”

his fingers sift through a lock of your hair, and he moves his head almost in a nuzzling sort of gesture. you swallow hard. “i was wrong about you,” he whispers. when did his voice get so raspy?

“what?”

“i was wrong to judge you,” he says. his hand moves from your hair to the side of your neck, one long finger tracing the lines of your skin. “to be honest, i thought you were some cheap girl looking for a way into my bed, but i was wrong. you’re more than that.”

“what—” deep inhale. “what am i, then?”

his lips quirk upward. “my wife.”

hard exhale.

his mouth claims yours, and you don’t fight him. you melt against him, his chest pressed against yours in the narrow space of the car. you’re vaguely aware that a driver sits not two feet away, more than able to hear the way roger pulls a soft whimper from behind your lips and the rustle of clothes as you both scrabble for any exposed skin. but you don’t really care. you’re drunk off of roger, and have been since you met him. it’s his looks, yes, but tonight—tonight you saw him in his element. you heard him laugh and saw him smile and preened under his attention. you would go to hades and back to live in a world shaped just like tonight, every bit of it.

roger can’t keep his hands off you as you make your way from the sidewalk to the front stoop. his hands roam your body, skimming every inch, squeezing the parts he seems to like most. you giggle like young lovers experiencing one another for the first time, and maybe that’s because you are.

when you drop the front door key because you’re too focused on returning roger’s eager kiss, it doesn’t seem to matter. you just stand on the stoop and kiss beneath the light of the moon a little longer.

when you finally get the door open and his palm hits your ass at the same time, you squeal, and he dissolves into laughter.

when he fumbles with the hallway light because he’s too focused on getting your coat off, you tell him to forget it. you don’t need the light anyway.

halfway down the hall, limbs and lips tangled, the phone rings.

you laugh as you peel yourself from his grasp. he puckers his lower lip in protest.

“i’ll be just a minute,” you say, lifting the phone from the receiver. he sticks his tongue out, but then sheds his shirt, leaving it on the kitchen floor as he slips into the bedroom. you bite the edge of your thumb as you watch him go, your head as muddled as creamy soup.

someone clears their throat on the other end of the line.

“oh, sorry. hello?”

“what’s it like to kiss roger taylor?”

cold dread extinguishes any joy lingering in your chest at the sound of the sickeningly smooth voice. 

your fingers curl tight around the phone. “who is this?”

“what’s it like to kiss roger taylor?”

angry tears spring to your eyes as you scoot to stare out the window over the sink. nothing but darkness meets your eyes, but still you try in vain to search for an answer in the inky blackness. “i said: who is this?” your voice cracks, but you push forward. “how did you get this number?”

“what’s it like to kiss roger taylor?”

“i swear i calling the fucking police if you keep this up!”

a beat of hesitation then: “what’s it like to kiss roger taylor?”

with a helpless groan, you slam the phone down for the second time in one day. your fingers creak as you let go and step back, chest heaving. your skin feels slimy—slimy with roger’s lingering touch, slimy with the possibility that someone had been watching you kiss your husband, slimy with the possibility that someone could be watching you now.

you don’t stop and admire roger, clad only in his boxers, as you make your way to the en suite bathroom. you can’t stand to look at him, to know that somewhere someone cares for him so much they would take to harassing you. god, it makes you want to vomit.

you don’t bother with the bathroom door so intent are you at getting in the shower and scrubbing your slimy skin raw. you struggle with the zipper at the top of your spine, the tears hovering over your eyes threatening to spill over if you can’t be rid of your soaked clothing. you stamp your foot with a grunt and drop your hands, hanging your head in defeat.

roger’s soft chuckle sounds from the doorway. you don’t turn to look at him.

your back stiffens when he undoes the zipper, the pads of his fingers pressing along your shoulder blades, your ribs, the small of your back.

“that eager, huh?” he presses a wet kiss to the curve of your shoulder.

you want him; you really do. there’s some part of you that wants to drag him into the shower and work out your fears with the aid of his body against yours. but you won’t do that. you won’t use him, not when he confessed he thinks you better than that.

you twist to face him, holding the dress against your chest. “rog, i…” you place your hand on his smooth chest, feel the small hairs peppering his collarbone. “you’re drunk,” you finally say. “you’re drunk and you should go to bed.”

he smirks and pushes his hips against yours. “so? you’re drunk too.”

you shake your head. “no, not anymore.” you push him away gently. “believe me, roger, i want nothing more than to go to bed with you but—”

he plays with a lock of hair beside your face, and your desire to resist him weakens. “but?”

“i won’t do it while you’re drunk. besides, you’ll be over this by morning. you’ll go back to not wanting me. so i won’t do it—not while you’re drunk.”

with a huff, he lets you go, but not without kissing you once more. a traitorous tear slides down your cheek, and your throat seizes with emotion. somewhere in the back of your clouded mind, you wonder if you love him. or, if at least you are on the edge of loving him.

but it doesn’t matter. you’ll be gone in a year, and he will move on to someone else, someone strong enough to withstand his rabid fans.

he pulls away first and kisses your temple. “goodnight, angel,” he whispers.

you wrap your arms around your stomach and, once stood beneath the hot water of the shower, let the sound of the creaking pipes drown out the sound of your crying.

roger is gone before you wake the next morning.

he leaves you a note on the kitchen island, scrawled in his plain script: “angel, i’m hungover now, not drunk. i’d still like you in my bed. – rog”

the note should send a thrill to your stomach, but it manifests itself in a ball of dread instead.

what’s it like to kiss roger taylor?

it’s heaven, but the price is hell.

you crumple the note and toss it in the bin, jumping when the phone rings. you hesitate, your gaze locked on the inanimate object that has come to haunt your dreams.

eventually, the phone stops ringing, but the shrill sound echoes in your head as you go about the day.

after the second phone call, tension becomes your constant companion. the days pass, and you withdraw into yourself, scared by the slightest sound, the never-ending line of cars outside the front window, and roger’s growing interest.

he seems to like you now that he knows you. he makes you laugh, asks you questions, even goes so far as to help you research university entrance exams.

but when he comes home from the studio, your stomach takes to twisting with apprehension as you wonder if your faceless friend watched him drive home and wonder further if your faceless friend can see roger kiss the side of your neck.

you try not to push him away. his attention is what you’ve wanted all along, and, though the romantic turn of events was certainly unplanned, he does make your knees weak and your head giddy like a schoolgirl’s.

still, the phone calls persist. it’s not every night and every day. you can’t trace the caller’s pattern because there is none. you never know who will be on the other end of the line. it could be roger calling during his lunch break as he is wont to do; it could be the university to which you’ve applied; or it could be them, the phantom who chills the blood in your veins.

there’s a pad of paper tucked beneath your side of the bed. the words of your faceless friend are scrawled across the page in frenzied handwriting, the handwriting of a madwoman.

what’s it like to kiss roger taylor?

did he buy you those earrings?

will he ask john to help you study for the maths entrance exam?

you should stop answering the phone; you know you should. but each time the phone rings, you respond like a pavlovian dog. you rush to answer, to frantically write down the day’s comment just in case there’s some sliver of information that might shed light on your faceless friend’s identity.

the caller is a woman; that much you know. her voice is deep and gravelly, but she’d referenced herself as the better woman for roger before. she seems to cling to the idea that you will leave him and the position of roger taylor’s wife will fall to her. if only to spite her, you will remain married to roger until your dying day.

you should tell roger too; you know you should.

but he’s happy.

when you first met him, he was sullen, dragging his tail between his legs like a scolded pup after the montreal debacle. it took a while, but you see him now for his true self. he’s carefree in a grounded sort of way, sold out for his music and the lifestyle it affords him. he’s gentle and kind and surprisingly considerate. he picks up the groceries when you ask it of him; he cleans the dishes from supper without complaint. he doesn’t pressure you for anything more than a make-out session on the couch when the lights are low and a record spins on the turntable. you would go further, but you can’t—not right now. he doesn’t ask any questions.

it would break you to tell him about the phone calls, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. each morning, you imagine his crestfallen face. you imagine the anger and the shouting and him calling the authorities and—

it’s easier for him—for everybody—if you just stay quiet.

besides, you’ll be gone in six months.

one evening, after dinner at an expensive restaurant, you let roger to take you to bed. he’d looked so pretty in the candlelight, and he’d listened to you talk about your hopes and dreams for the future. you think you fall in love with him when he drags you onto the bed and whispers sweet praises in your ear the whole night long.

when you wake the next morning, he is still there, and you snuggle into his chest. you breathe him in, and it’s bar soap from the shower and dried sweat and lingering cologne. his arms circle your back, squeezing you tighter.

“mornin’, angel,” he mumbles.

for a moment, you don’t respond. you keep your eyes closed and think back to yesterday.

there’d been no phone call. a blessed reprieve from three days in a row of randomly timed messages. roger had held you, and he holds you still. he is a comfort amidst your turbulent sea.

you should tell him. he can handle it. you’re tired of running from him.

rising to your palm, you meet roger’s gaze. he stares at you through his lashes, a sleepy smile on his mouth. he lifts a hand to cradle your face, and his thumb skims your cheekbone.

“how come you get a halo every morning and i don’t?”

you ignore his compliment before the bravery rushing through your veins dissipates. “rog, there’s something i haven’t told you.”

“yeah? is it about the freckle by your left ass-check?”

gasping, you slap roger’s chest. though he laughs, a red handprint remains in the center of his sternum, and he clutches his skin in pain. once settled, he apologizes and promises to behave.

deep inhale.

“about a month or two ago, i started—”

the phone on the bedside table cuts you off with its sharp bell-like ring.

your stomach plummets to your feet.

your eyes widen as roger holds up a finger and reaches for the earpiece.

he lifts it to his ear. “hello?”

some part of you hopes it’s your faceless friend. roger could deal with her himself. the other part of you prays it’s just a wrong number or john or—

“yes, fred, i know.”

hard exhale.

you slump to the side, leaning your weight against roger’s hip. thank heaven.

roger’s eyes slide to you, and he grins, winking. he squeezes the point of your chin between his forefinger and thumb, his eyes locked on yours as he nods and hums in response to freddie on the other end of the line.

“no, we won’t be late,” roger says. “yes, she’s coming. i promise i won’t forget.” he leans closer to the bedside table in his effort to end the conversation. “okay, fred. yes, i will.” finally, he heaves a sigh. “oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck off! i’m trying to woo my wife, so scram!”

“now,” he says, once the earpiece is on the base. “where were we?”

tugging on the back of your neck, he closes the distance between his mouth and yours. even with a hint of morning breath, you dissolve in his capable hands. he kisses you earnestly, and you struggle to remember what it was you wanted to tell him. he has this way with his mouth and his tongue and his hands that makes you forget everything but the feeling of him.

pulling back a moment later, he mumbles against your mouth: “what was it you wanted to tell me?”

you blink rapidly. “i—” damn, he looks so happy, glowing with youth and perhaps an inkling of love. you press your palm to his cheek then shake your head. “never mind. it can wait.”

he cocks his head to the side. “you sure?”

“mhm.”

“you remember the movie thing tonight, right?” he asks as he slides from the bed, drawing up his sweats from the floor and padding to the window. “that’s what fred called about.”

he throws the curtains open. the morning sun shines through, piercing every hidden corner, and your heart trips in your chest. your hands shake as you lift one of the bed sheets to cover your naked chest.

someone could be watching.

roger grimaces. “oh, shit, sorry, angel.” he tosses you his shirt from the floor, which you gratefully tug over your head. “anyway, tron, you know? we’re supposed to go to the premiere. something about flash gordon and—”

“i remember.”

“good. wear something nice because i don’t give a fuck about this movie, and i’d rather be looking at you anyway.” he smirks as he presses his palms against the mattress and leans in for another kiss.

you oblige him without hesitation.

“gotta go,” he says, pulling away only to firmly kiss you once more. “be ready by six, okay?”

you nod, and he leaves.

the majority of the day, you putter about the house. there’s chores to do—laundry and bills to catch up on and research for university admissions. it’s domestic work, mind-numbingly dull and repetitive. it leaves far too much space for your thoughts to run wild.

you admonish yourself for once more failing to tell roger of your faceless friend. you’d had the moment, and you’d blown it. with his unreliable schedule, there is no telling when you’ll have the chance to sit him down for a serious conversation again. you consider going to jim beach for help, but know once roger hears wind of it, he will fly off the handle because you didn’t come to him first. perhaps rightfully so, too.

you resolve that until you can find another peaceful moment, you will continue to suffer through it. it’s a step in the right direction, though. at least now, you have plans to tell him.

by five-forty-five, you are ready for the event. you sit in the living room, gnawing at your lower-lip as your leg bounces in anticipation. you haven’t gone anywhere with roger since the charity function earlier in the year. your faceless friend will surely be watching tonight, and already you feel sweat gather along your underarms.

roger unlocks the door and sticks his head into the living room upon his arrival. “car’s running. ready to go?”

you lift your handbag from the floor, nodding as you make your way to his side. roger stops you with a flat hand against your stomach. he bends to catch your eyes.

“you okay?”

“yes,” you say, but your voice sounds too rushed and eager even to your own ears.

he doesn’t hassle you for a more illuminative response. he just leads you to the car, opens your door, and makes his way to the theater, foot hard on the gas pedal.

as soon as you see the carpet—red this time—stretched along the sidewalk leading to the movie theater, bile rises in your throat. you reach for roger’s arm and squeeze tight. his head whips to the side.

“roger, i don’t think i can do this,” you breathe.

he frowns. “what do you mean?”

“it’s just that i’ve been—”

he pulls the car to the side. an usher opens the door, sound and light and chaos breaking the comforting quiet of the ride. your eyes flutter shut; you grit your teeth.

“[y/n], what is it?” roger’s voice is low, on the edge of irritation.

this is not the time. yet why do you feel like you’re going to pass out if you don’t—

“mr. taylor?” the usher prompts.

purging the emotions clawing at the front of your mind, you push roger’s shoulder and avoid his searching gaze. “nothing. go on! i’m right behind you.”

roger huffs as he slides from the car, but he dutifully offers his hand to aid you onto the red carpet. as he did before, he leads you toward the theater doors, stopping at the appropriate moments to pose for photographs. you hold on to the back of his jacket so tightly your knuckles crack. your eyes scan the crowd in search of your faceless friend. you will know her when you see her. she is a part of you now, like a demon on your shoulder.

roger rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture and leans to whisper in your ear. “you feel a stiff as a board,” he says. “what is it?”

you shake your head and nudge him further down the carpet. “we can talk about it later.”

“is it something i’ve—”

“no, roger. it’s not you.”

he studies your face a moment longer before nodding and returning his smile to the crowd.

near the entrance to the theater, a gaggle of girls wave their hands in an attempt to grab roger’s attention. he glances at you, and you nod, backing away to allow him one of the moments he so enjoys.

but one of the girls calls out your name. you lift your eyes to stop tracing the intricate weaving of the red carpet and stare at the girl in question until roger has to drag you over with a laugh. the girl shoves a newspaper in your face, your wedding announcement crinkled with affectionate wear-and-tear. she asks for your autograph, and you chuckle, feeling rather ridiculous as you scrawl your name across the page with a fat green marker.

it happens before you have time to react.

your head is bent as you sign the girl’s newspaper, your attention diverted from scanning the crowd for your faceless friend. but you feel her when she arrives, sense her eyes on your neck, and her fingers reaching for the sleeve of your dress. you have time enough to turn and catch sight of her long fingernails descending upon your cheek, but not time enough to stop her.

you scream more out of fear than pain as her nails scrape your face. truly, it does not hurt, though blood does begin to trickle down your chin and along the column of your throat.

it’s just that she’s there, before your very eyes, and she’s much smaller than you imagined. yet her eyes are dark with envy, and her nails are sharp. you recognize her labored breathing—deep inhale, sharp exhale—as she tries to move backwards and disappear within the crowd before she can be seen. you cannot look away from her, even when roger grabs your shoulders and wrenches you away from the iron gate. he’s shouting in your ear, cradling your uninjured cheek, but everything sounds like you’re underwater.

her face—round and childlike in its innocence—does not match the picture you’d created of her in your mind. she does not resemble the evil witch of your childhood fairy tales. she’s just a child, a little girl with a heart full of love for someone she cannot have.

your faceless friend is pointed out by the girl with the newspaper, and someone—maybe theater security, maybe queen security, maybe a good samaritan—drags her away.

roger grips your chin harder than he should considering the circumstances, but it brings your attention back to him. his eyes are ablaze with fury, and you suddenly feel the urge to cry.

“are you all right?” he demands. “are you hurt anywhere else?”

only my pride, you think.

“no,” you manage with a shake of your head. “no.”

“come on.” he slips his arm around your waist and pushes your head into the curve of his neck, away from prying eyes and flashing cameras. “we’re going home.”

the trip home is silent. your head moves back and forth across the passenger window, in time with the bumps and dips and curves of the road. there’s a fast-food napkin pressed against your cheek to stem the blood. you aren’t sure if it helps. roger keeps his hand firm on your thigh.

once inside the house, he forces you to sit in the middle of the bed as he scurries to retrieve the first aid kit. while he roots around in the bathroom, muttering to himself when he can’t find what he’s looking for fast enough, you strip yourself of your dress and return his old t-shirt over your head. you lift the collar to your nose and inhale his scent. when you draw the collar away, crimson blood and fresh tears stain the fabric. you sigh.

“fuckin’ hell.” roger drops to sit in front of you, his legs skewed to the side. a white, plastic box sits in his lap, and when he opens it, the contexts spill onto the bed sheets. “i’ve had this thing for ages. i think brian got it for me when i moved in.”

his hand returns to your chin; only his touch is gentle now. he looks over your wound, frowning at the sight.

“this is gonna sting, angel,” he warns.

it does. the antiseptic hurts, and you wince, but he keeps you from drawing away, his grip on your chin firm. he unwraps a butterfly bandage and presses it over the shallow scratch on your face. then he shakes his head, his face drawn tight.

“what is it you weren’t telling me?”

“there is—was this girl… and she kept calling, saying things.” you twist and unearth the pad of paper from under the bed. rubbing your eye, you hand it to him and watch his face darken as he reads the words.

he looks up, and you can’t bear to see the anger—the anger directed at you—in his gaze. “why didn’t you tell me?”

your first instinct is to shrug, to obfuscate, but he deserves the truth.

“you never wanted a wife,” you say. “you certainly didn’t want a wife who brought a stalker into the house. i figured—” deep inhale. “i figured i could live with it until our year was up.”

“oh, baby.” roger presses his forehead to yours. he cups your untainted cheek. “fucking up in montreal was the best thing that ever happened to me. it brought you to me, didn’t it?”

“you’re just saying that ‘cause—”

“no.” he draws back and grabs both shoulders in his hands. “i mean it. i never was one for marriage. didn’t make sense. but i get it now. it’s about partnership, yeah, but it’s about more than that. it’s about trust, too.” he smiles softly, pressing his thumb against your lip. “it’s about affection.”

he goes quiet then removes his hands from your shoulders.

“i wish you would have trusted me.”

“i’m—”

“don’t apologize. this whole arrangement is weird, and i don’t blame you for keeping quiet. i just wish you would have told me so i could help you.”

you sigh, dropping your head. “what do you want, roger?”

he lifts your chin, and you are struck by the love so firmly etched in his eyes. it knocks the wind from your lungs, leaves you breathless.

“i want you to keep my last name,” he says.

“what?”

“you heard me: i want you keep my last name.”

tears flood your vision, but not for fear or worry or regret.

you begin to smile, but the skin of your cheek pulls tight, and you wince, touching your injury. “ow,” you mutter.

roger laughs and pulls your fingers away from the bandage. he kisses each knuckle then rubs the wedding band along your ring finger. “can we give each other another chance?” he asks. “can we forget all the assumptions and just be us? i think we started on the wrong foot and somewhere along the way we switched—”

“yes.”

he stops mid-sentence, his brows drawing together in confusion. “what?”

“i said yes. i’ll keep your last name. i want your last name, roger taylor.”

he grins, and the happiness in every line on his face outshines even the sun’s rays. “god, you’re perfect.” he kisses you hard, and you laugh as you drop against the pillows, pulling him with you. he stops attacking your neck with his lips long enough to prop himself up and stare down at you. “but don’t you ever pull something like that again! if someone starts nagging you, tell me first thing. promise?”

you nod, stunned by his firm tone.

“say it.”

“i promise.”

he smooths the hair on your forehead, and your stomach somersaults to watch him examine you so openly “good girl,” he mumbles before lowering his mouth to yours again.

you lose yourself in him. he loses himself in you. somewhere along the way, you find one another, and all is bliss.

in the morning, legs tangled in the sheets and steady rain pelting the window, roger adjusts his hold on your waist. he’s still asleep, his chest rising and falling in time with his gentle breath. you pull his arm tight around you and smile into your pillow.

your cheek is still sore, and you’re sure there’s some poor nun who remains scarred for life after witnessing roger’s montreal incident.

but this morning you cannot find it within yourself to feel bothered by your faceless friend, nor by the scarred nun. indeed, you think, you should write them each a thank you card, because in a funny sort of way, they brought you to your husband. in a funny sort of way, they gave you love of your life. and for that, you are indebted to them.

you twist at the sound of roger’s yawn. taking his face in your hands, you smile at him. “good morning, husband,” you whisper.

he grins back. “good morning, wife.”

now this—this you could get used to.

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