#Clockwork being the scheming old man he is- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

musedblues · 4 years

Text

We’ll Be Alright

Summary: The heart wants what the heart wants. Roger seems to live by that motto. You're certain he has more than enough. But he's determined to prove you wrong.

w/c: 12k (oops?)

a/n: Here it is! My LOC Event Fic for the wonderful darling @brianandthemays 🌈 This is my first time publishing something for Roger, so I'm a bit anxious, but mostly excited! I sincerely hope you enjoy this lovie 💖 Thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for hosting another fun event! Without further ado...

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Freddie escorted you through the doors of his favorite overpriced coffee shop, a Thursday afternoon tradition. Like always, you followed behind your friend and complained about the things that had gone wrong all week since the last Thursday like this one.

"...And not only did my internship get canceled, but they dropped the whole production. Now it's too late for me to sign up to any other until the fall." You fretted all the way to the back of the place, plopping down in a booth across from Freddie. He was entirely overdressed for the casual occasion, but you'd be worried if he wasn't.

"Well, you think you've got it bad, dear, we're on an actual fucking deadline for once. We have to record in two months and we have no songs, and no place to stay and rehearse for a month. All our neighbors have had enough." Freddie waved his hand and widened his eyes, only trying to relate to you by airing out his own misfortunes.

"You're kidding, right?" You narrowed your eyes as Freddie waited for you to make clear what you thought was already obvious. That's when a barista brought out your usual drinks. The staff had come to expect you and Freddie to twirl in like clockwork and order the same drinks at the same time each week. So eventually, someone started making your orders ahead of time.

"Decaf tea and a piping hot black coffee." A familiar girl placed mismatched cups between yourself and Freddie. Your feather haired friend bowed to the barista who laughed on her spin the other direction.

"Fred!" You snapped his attention back on you, wrapping your fingers around the steaming mug.

"My dad owns that countryside villa in Surrey." You reminded. "Well, it's more of a done up farmhouse. But, still." The countryside getaway was more quaint than Romanesque, but it was big enough for a band. Freddie's obsidian eyes sparkled, maybe with remembrance, but you couldn't tell past the obvious hope that flooded his gaze.

"Oh, darling. Do you think we could come and stay for a while? We just need a place to write and rehearse before we record. Could you help?"

"I'll see what I can do. We have a big empty barn where you could set up your instruments to practice." You shrugged, taking a sip of your tea.

"You'd save my life darling, you'd absolutely be my queen." Freddie fawned.

"Yeah yeah, some friends we are. I've talked about spending summers in Surrey more than anything. Do you even know me?" You dramatically provoked, sticking your lip out for show.

"I know that you always order decaf tea. And that your dad owns a place in Surrey. And that I'd do anything for you if we got to stay."

"You're in luck... I haven't got anything better to do this year!" You laughed, albeit a little somberly. You had always loved wasting away summers in the countryside. But, until recently, you'd finally been an arm's length away from dipping your toes into the metaphorical waters of your dream job. You'd finally felt like the future was at your doorstep, and it was all canceled in the blink of an eye.

///

You followed Freddie home from the coffee shop, at his behest. When the sunset, he and his three best friends were scheduled to put on a show. And according to Freddie, you needed something new and fun to wear. At the foot of his bed, he tossed dresses and tops and scarves over his shoulder, digging in an old chest for something your style. You leaned against his pillows, laughing as your friend argued with himself while matching patterns.

From behind Freddies halfway shut bedroom door, you heard the front lock turn and a bright giggle you didn't recognize echo into the flat.

"Roger's home." Freddie looked up to you, holding out a dress and jacket to imagine how it might fit your form.

"That doesn't sound much like Roger." You laughed, posing in place as Freddie held up another outfit. With a look, he moved to click his bedroom door shut.

"You're right. It sounds like Ivy. Who I'm sure is a fine girl, but is entirely wrong for Roger." Freddie tossed a floral number your way as he shut the lid of the chest decidedly. You let out an "Ah," of understanding moving to change your outfit.

"Is anybody right for Roger?" You chuckled, thinking to the few long evenings you'd spent getting to know Queen's drummer. He was deadly funny, and jarringly good looking. With an overload of talent and style, you recognized Mr. Taylor as one of the most sought after bachelors in the region- using the word bachelor loosely. He always seemed to have a lady on his arm. At least one girl was hot on Rogers trail each time you'd been near him.

"Well, yes." Freddie sang, leafing through his own closet. "He needs someone driven in their own right. Someone willing to deal with all the pressures of Roger being a superstar, because you know darling, we're going to be famous one day. Someone who will be happy for him. Someone he can be just as proud of."

You halfway listened as you shimmied into the outfit your dear friend picked just for you. It fit quite nicely, even with the back still unzipped. Freddie had thrown on a yellow and black striped jacket before he sauntered over your way.

"Someone quite like you, if I'm honest." Freddie seemed to confess as he zipped you into style. He barely got the chance before you spun to face him, holding back a barking laugh.

"You can't be serious." You began, watching Freddie feign innocence. "Freddie. No. You're scheming I can tell!" You pointed as your friend spun out of your way. Where was all this coming from?

"I don't know what you're on about, love." Freddie sighed, grabbing a pair of sunglasses. "I'll leave things between you and Rog to figure out yourselves." He reached for the door with a shrug.

"There isn't anything between us to discuss!" You laughed, in a bit of shock at the prospect of this conversation you hadn't seen coming at all. You'd never had more than a few casual conversations with Roger. Freddie seemed to drop it, spinning into the main room to get the show on the road.

Roger was there, lounging with a pretty little hippie lady decked out in lace. Freddie called for the pair to get up and get going- it was time to head toward soundcheck.

"Rog, before we leave, pay some respect to the lovely y/n. She's going to save our lives this summer!" Freddie fawned, ignoring your previous discussion, trying to start a fire that you never realized had the potential to burn.

As Roger led his date out the door, he stalled to greet you for the night.

"Nice dress, love." Roger's familiar rasp was gentle past his grossly over-rehearsed line. His saucer eyes raked up your figure in a way you'd seen him do to others, but never to you, until now.

"Thank Freddie." You spoke through your teeth, turning away from Roger to hide your blush and shoot your glare to the frontman who was already biting back an "I told you so."

///

You could count the evenings you'd spent with Queen on a couple of hands. But the days you spent with Freddie were in the hundreds by now. He was your closest friend, someone you meditated with, cried with. Someone who might have known you better than you knew yourself. And on occasion, some of Fred's bandmates would join in on the fun.

John had become accustomed to accompanying you and Fred on Thursdays for coffee and tea. You liked John's ideas and the way was keen to listen to you and Freddie banter more than he joined in to do the same. When John spoke, it was decidedly. A wit filled joke, or a valuable point, John hardly uttered any passing thought; unless, of course, he was absolutely hammered.

Brian would sometimes join you and Freddie before shows for dinner, or on rainy Sunday afternoons to play Scrabble and dream of the future. You admired the things that mattered to Brian and how fiercely he protected the value of the things he spoke of, big and small.

Then there was Roger. He was always around, in the other room, at the back of the stage, at the end of the night. But he usually kept company of his own. And the times he joined in for Scrabble or lunch, he was usually too preoccupied with whoever he brought along. But there were odd exceptions- when Freddie had fallen asleep and Rogers dates would leave for the evening- when you'd share a drink in the kitchen and traded updates on your week.

Times like then, you noticed Roger's gaze was hypnotic. You didn't think it was a power he used manically. You figured it was a trait that came naturally, the inherent draw of his piercing blue eyes. It must have been what made all the girls line up like ducklings and follow Roger around for their turn at wooing him. He was always kind to them, and a few times you wondered if he might have fallen in love. But then another would follow the last and you decided that Roger must have been happiest dating around, meeting all kinds of people with all kinds of stories to share. Such was the way of a man who dreamed of touring the world, singing about it, and the lot.

///

"Do you own any wellies?" You asked, twirling your mustard yellow phone cord around your index, studying your grossly overpacked suitcase.

Freddie's response of laughter was rich and crackly through the other line.

"I'm just saying... that you're bound to muck up those ballet flats of yours when you and the boys come to stay in Surrey in a week."

"You serious? We can come and stay? Oh, how shall I ever repay you?" Freddie shrieked into your ear. You held the receiver back with a grin as you tossed a couple of sweaters on the floor in hopes your suitcase would better zip closed. Freddie promised you he was on his knees, shouting thanks into the phone. You promised you'd see him soon, gave him the last of the info he needed, and managed to seal your bag shut.

///

You swore you could smell the freshness in the air, see the vibrant hue of the trees through clearer eyes. The house in Surrey your father called a villa, was the place you spent most summers.

Until the last few summers in a row, the summer palace was a place your extended family came to stay for a month or two. You'd all get together and kick around the countryside for a while, forgetting petty worries and putting off all the responsibilities you could manage. You hadn't missed a summer yet, but each one became quieter, less action-packed. Last year it was only yourself and your parents who spent a while enjoying the quiet getaway.

But you always had Mona. The old, cheery, pale-haired woman hired to come around on the weekends to help keep order about the place. You always insisted she stay and enjoy a day or two of peace when her work was done. Mona always accepted the offer, much to your delight. When there was nothing left for her to do, she gave in to your pleas to help bake ridiculously complicated recipes or to simply keep you company in the quiet for a while. You and Mona would lose yourselves in conversation while cooking meals and enjoying days where you did nothing but track the rise and fall of the sun in the sky.

Then there was Otto. He was your only neighbor for miles, right across the road, behind his own mess of trees. Otto was only a few years older than you, and when his parents left the property, he gladly took it over with big plans of his own. After Otto had landscaped his home to his heart's content, your father hired him to come and spruce up your family's property. Even if that hadn't ever happened, you'd already made a habit of inviting Otto over for dinners and game nights. You imaged going it alone in the depths of the country had to be lonely so many months in a row.

Last summer, Otto made miraculous headway on your property's garden. He planted new trees, fixed up your old windows, and even built a chicken coop, something that provided a bit of entertainment for you, but became your neighbor's pride and joy.

He'd stop over every day, even if it was just to check on the chickens. And following close in Otto's stride from across the road, was his pet retriever, Pepper. Otto never minded when you stole his pet for walks through the trails you'd worn between trees in the distant forest, over the years.

In fact, the golden pup was always the first one to greet you every summer. The tradition held fast even now, as you pulled into the gravel drive. You spotted her yellow form zooming from out of nowhere at all, barking to greet you.

"Hi Pepper!" You chimed after collecting your luggage. You dropped to your knees at the edge of the drive as the dog bound your way. She was nearly eight years old, or was it nine, now? Pepper pranced in time with you as you made your way to the countryside home for another year in a row.

"Your dog missed you especially, this year." Otto's familiar accent drifted from the porch, where he appeared to stand painting the entry doorway. He dropped his brush and turned to watch you ease up the steps, with a smile.

"I missed her too." You smiled, rolling your eyes at the decade-old joke. The pup belonged to Otto but she was always hot on your heels, usually leaving her owner far behind whenever you were near.

"Ah yes, she has been sneaking in and sleeping on your bed. Hope you don't mind the extra layer of fur tonight." Your mother popped her head in the doorway, careful not to touch the fresh paint. She waved you inside, insisting Otto follow along. Apparently dinner was ready.

The home was as cozy as ever, long wooden halls and big comfy furniture. Your father was sat at the kitchen table, sorting through a stack of mail. Behind him your old, dear friend. Mona abandoned her mission to reorganize the silverware drawer to wrap you in a big warm hug. The kind woman had always been like a grandmother to you. Between the company of her and Otto, your summers here were even more special and sought after.

"Alright, sit." Your father turned his eyes toward yours, gesturing for you to rest in the empty seat at his side.

"Nice to see you too, dad." You laughed, gazing to the mail set out before him.

"I've socked up on food and essentials for all your mates coming in a week. And since they are your friends, ya think you can handle staying here while mum and I go on our own summer holiday?"

Your father figured you could handle keeping order, and he made plans with your mother seem like a long time coming.

"I can phone your uncle to come help if you don't think you can manage it."

"How hard can serving tea and keeping the place clean be? I'll have Mona's help like always. And Otto's a great human security system. remember a few years back when he wrestled a man double his size, to the ground? Made him cry."

"Oh yeah, that guy! Pretended his car broke down and tried to break in." Your mother pointed with a shiver. Otto had spotted the stranger stalking toward your home in the middle of the night, and you all woke up to the sound of the two wrestling in the gravel driveway.

"I'm just a poor gardener, but I'll do what I have to." Otto declared as you all chuckled at the distant memory. Otto took a handful of dinner plates from your mother's grasp and offered to help set the table as you moved next to Mona to help finish make the first evening meal of the summer.

///

It was early enough for you to double-check everything three times. Living room tidy? Check. Snacks on the counter? Check. Extra blankets, pillows, and beer enough for a band full of divas? Check. All that was left to do was sit on the porch with Pepper at your feet, and wait.

You'd spend endless days doing just that, but you had never had something quite like this to look forward too. You'd brought some pals to stay, growing up, but this was different. You could almost sense that Queen's stay in your family's cherished getaway would be the marking of a time you'd remember more fondly than most.

Eventually, the sound of crunching gravel disrupted your daydreams of the future. You were quicker than Pepper at your feet, who followed behind on your bolt down the porch steps with a delighted squeal.

John was the first one to step out of the van when it pulled to a stop. You raced up to greet him with a hug, one he returned with a bit of shy reluctance, but genuine mirth all the same.

"You're here! You're here!" You cheered, noticing Brian as you broke your hug with the feather haired bass player. You couldn't be stopped from greeting the lanky guitar player with the same excitement, your hug ended when Freddie's voice called out;

"I'm here! Hug me!"

Freddie planted a kiss to your cheek as you flung yourself toward him with a smile. The band stretched their legs out onto the grass, remarking about the beauty of the countryside.

"Welcome, you." You looked to Freddie, whose brows rose high over his dark sunglasses, his smile glowing as he peered past your shoulder to take it all in.

"Don't I get a warm welcome?"

Roger's familiar rasp whined from a few paces behind. He was dressed in denim head to toe, and was wearing the most ridiculous hat you'd ever seen. It made your heart buzz with some odd adoration you hadn't expected to feel at the sight of him. Your strange sudden feelings made approaching the blonde seem newly nerve-wracking, but you were glad to see him. So you opened your arms and invited Roger into a hug, same as everybody else. But Roger wasn't everybody else, was he?

Ever expressive, Roger scooped you up and lifted your feet from the ground in gratitude as he said,

"We owe you our lives for making this happen!"

You laughed in surprise, letting out a little squeal as Roger stumbled in an attempt to spin you around.

"Rog, put her down! She's got to give us a tour of this place or we're bound to get lost. It's massive." Freddie barked.

Roger did as he was told, setting you on your feet with care. You pulled down the bill of Rogers silly hat and spun around to lead everyone inside.

As the boys entered your favorite place, you introduced them two at a time to your family and friends who hurried to greet them all the same. It was a mess of hello's and warm welcomes as you shut the door and stepped further inside.

Your father held an arm out to show the boys to their rooms, chatting away on his tour down the halls. Your mother lifted a brow and shoulder when her gaze met yours after lingering on the band as they walked away.

"You've got a fun summer ahead." She grinned as if she knew something was coming, something you couldn't see yet.

The next thing you knew, you were helping Mona finish making dinner. You were sent to find Otto in the forest of flowerbeds outside of the barn. The two of you walked up the hill after you invited him in for dinner, listening to Otto ramble about the plans your father talked him into, of starting a vegetable garden.

Your mother had already rounded up everyone else in the dining room, going on about how excited she was to get to know your friends. And to your surprise, she'd even broken out the fancy fine china.

Between Otto and Freddie, the usual security you felt in their company had only been on separate respective accounts. Your worlds colliding was something you hadn't expected to be so warmed by. As you ate, you realized all your favorite people were here in one lucky place.

Queen were ever themselves, interrupting one another to share stories with your parents and Mona who asked questions at breakneck speeds. And while the jokes and banter flew from one topic to another, you held your breath each time Roger spoke up. Because every time before now, Roger only spoke in playful tones, and daring one-liners. You expected him to say something that might have embarrassed you, even if that wasn't his goal, if he even had one. But Roger surprised you in a different way, one you hadn't expected.

He utterly charmed your mother with the way he spoke about his education and aspirations. He gained your father's respect sometime after you poured everyone a new drink. During dinner, Roger was... shy. No, not shy, respectable. Boyish. No, not boyish... forbearing in a way you'd never seen from him before. Maybe you didn't have Roger figured out after all...

///

Your room was full of things you loved, in the back of the house. You enjoyed the privacy, but seeking through the halls at odd hours was always a challenge you held your breath during. The wood creaked underfoot as you followed the beams of the rising sun through the halls, daring not to wake anyone.

You snuck toward the front door without a hitch, clicking it shut with care. When on the steps of the porch, you were surprised to find two of the boys had already risen and were sharing a smoke.

John and Roger turned their heads from the steps, smiles stretching when they saw you.

"The only time I've seen you two up this early was if you were still awake from the night before." You laughed, stretching into the new day.

"Never realized you were such an early riser, either." John spoke up, stamping out his cigarette.

"Things are different here." You shrugged, making your way down the steps between the two musicians.

"Where are you going?" Roger wondered. His hair was tangled from sleep, but the dark spots near his eyes suggested he'd only tossed and turned all night.

You found yourself searching his features for a beat too long, and only played it off by raising a brow and nodding for the boys to follow you, if they so desired.

And they did. As you rounded the back of your home, you stalled near the shed and grabbed a bucket from it's tried and true stop- then you headed for the chicken coop.

This was something you did every morning, you'd never missed one. Otto handled everything else, but he always let you help out if you pestered him enough.

"This is Otto's coop." You introduced the paint chipped structure as John and Roger chuckled in awe, the band had yet to have a proper tour of the grounds.

"He built it, and everything. But I come out here every morning, just gives me something to do." You waved for the boys to walk ahead of you, before you made it to the spot you stopped in every morning.

Chickens emerged like clockwork, and the boys went about chasing a couple around like little kids. One took a particular liking to John, flowing at the man's side, stopping when he stopped. And try as he might to bend down and reach out to a group of the birds, Roger had yet to score any over.

"Why don't they like me?" He whined while John laughed in response. And just like that one bird turned from the group and started flapping and clucking toward Roger, sick of being pestered. The blonde bolted to his feet with a yelp, skipping away until the chicken stopped chasing after him in a flurry.

"I'm scared, hold me." Roger reached out to you, wrapping his arms around your side. It was comforting, it felt like less of a joke than Roger made it seem. But when you turned your head to look at him, you wondered if Roger might have actually been a little distressed.

But he'd constricted your arms, and you couldn't hug him back. So you glanced back to the house and said,

"Come on, ya big baby."

Roger's grasp slowly loosened as you lead the way, but you could feel his eyes remain fixed on you.

"I'll keep you safe, big baby." John threw an arm around his friend's shoulders as the three of you started your trek back up the hill and around to the front porch. Roger let out a comical fake cry just before you made it inside to find Freddie and Brian reluctantly awake in the kitchen.

The boys gathered around the table while you scurried to make tea, and insisted they help themselves to anything in the cabinets. And it wasn't long before the rest of your parents emerged out into the new day, Mona popping out into the kitchen soon after.

Your father showed the band to the barn, and offered to help them unload their instruments in the big empty space. Your mother took the tea you poured for her and settled into the sunroom with Mona, where you joined the ladies to gossip about everything that happened since last summer.

Day's like today, there isn't much for Mona to do, but she still got paid for sitting around chatting with you. Though she'd likely turn down the extra cash at the end of the weekend, your dad would always sneak a few bills into her purse when she wasn't looking. You'd have to remember to do the same when you were left alone.

///

Your parents and Mona all left the next morning, and the week that followed was some kind of adventure- even with the little routine you'd found yourself in.

Brian ended up being the early bird, while the others milked every last bit of sleep they could get. When you awoke and found Brian reading in the small nook of the living room, you got to talking about something so in-depth that he followed up out to feed the chickens. And that's how most mornings all week had gone, chatting away in the early morning, meandering down the hill to the birdhouse with Bri at your side, prattling all the way back to where you came from.

One by one the boys would collect at the table to pick at the breakfast you'd gotten in the habit of making, before they drifted off to the barn.

You'd stay in to clean up, stalling near the open windows where you could hear your friends music drifting up the hill. They'd clatter through newborn songs and riffs that came together each time you stood to listen.

All week, you shared lunch with Freddie. In the sunroom, on the porch, wherever as long as you were together to chat like you usually would once a week at the coffee shop. And throughout your newly established daily lunch meetups, Freddie began making liberal use of his drummer's name. "Roger this," "Roger that," The blonde started taking up more space in your conversations than most other topics.

"What's with all this talk about your friend, huh?" You challenged Freddie, reaching for some fruit on a plate you shared between the two of you.

"Surely you've caught on by now, love. He's quite taken with you?" Freddie nonchalantly responded, reaching for an apple slice of his own.

"And surely if that was the case, Roger would have made that clear by now. He flirts in place of breathing." You chuckled.

"Then he must really like you. I've never known him to get so tongue-tied. Even when he's talking about you, which he never stops doing." Freddie shrugged, looking off in the direction of the warm breeze. You both stayed silent for a beat, your excuse- searching for what to say next. But Freddie found more words before you could.

"I think he would be happy with you. And I think you'd be happy with him. I just want you both to be happy."

"Well, so long as we've all got you Fred, I'm sure we will be." You grinned, truly meaning it. You and Freddie clinked your apple slices together in a toast, more like a truce to drop the subject, for now anyway.

Then as the sun burned, you meandered poolside, making Otto cease digging in the dirt long enough to ask how his day was going and distract him from work just long enough to share a few laughs.

You'd always ask him to take Pepper out, and he always insisted you didn't need to ask. You'd wander toward the forest with your furry friend, enjoying a bit of quiet. You used to bring books and pencils along when you had nothing better to do than sit against a tree and dream of the future. But this year, you keep calling Pepper back the way you came at the end of the trail, in a hurry back to check in with your friends.

When night fell after long dinners full of more chatter than food, everyone decided they'd seen enough of each other. That's when you and John would steal away the sunroom, and play cards moonlight. Sometimes you wouldn't speak much at all. And sometimes you'd share secrets, wishes you thought anyone else might make fun of you for dreaming of.

And all week, when you least expected it, you kept ending up next to Roger.

The blonde would ask to sit out on the porch with you, where you curled up in a rocking chair to read. He would ease onto the wooden steps and scribble away in his notebook, crossing out lyrics and penning new ones. He'd never tell you what he was writing, and you never asked. But you heard him humming under his breath, and you missed the gentle sound when you were called back in by Freddie for one reason or another.

Roger would find you again eventually, though. He'd leaf through the books in your living room, asking about every author. He'd appear at your side at the table during every meal, even the ones everyone ate in a hurry before scurrying off to rehearse.

One afternoon he surprised you by the side of the pool, when no one else was around. Though you had started to prepare to see Roger around when you least expected it, it was always a pleasant surprise.

"How's rehearsal today?" You asked, looking up from where you sat with your feet dangling in the water. Roger squinted your way, the shadows on his face illuminated by the hot summer sun. It wasn't until you patted the space beside you that Roger spoke up, and slowly moved to join where you sat.

"Freddie called for a break. Writer's block, or something."

You hummed in understanding, watching Roger relax at your side. And after another look your way, maybe to check if you were actually keen on listening, he went on...

"I think we've all got a hit up our sleeves. Now if we could just all agree on one thing for one minute." Roger laughed, crossing his legs, reaching in the pool to grab the stem of a leaf that floated by.

Right then, Freddie stormed around the corner. He called off practice for the rest of the afternoon and declared he planned to lock himself in his room to finish writing.

When the door shut decidedly behind Freddie, you and Roger burst into shared laughter. And for another hour at least, you stayed right where you were. Roger told you about the songs he was writing. And the songs the others were writing. He asked what you would rather be doing, because surely, staying in the middle of no place with the lads of Queen around every corner, couldn't have been at the top of your list. You assured that it was, in fact. But you still somehow started to talk about how disappointed you had been to lose out on the opportunity to live your dreams, this summer. You talked about what you wanted and why you wanted it. Roger listened and asked questions he seemed truly interested in hearing the answers too. What was the harm in sharing a few more laughs?

///

The next day at breakfast, everyone was called to order by Freddie, who relaxed at the head of the table with some announcement to make. He sat in uncharacteristic patience as his friends filled up on orange juice and yammered about what they planned to accomplish that afternoon. When Brian went off on some sorry muttering over whose songs were better or worse, you and Roger locked eyes, and dulled the same sort of snicker. You were both thinking the same thing- thinking back to the conversation you had most of yesterday.

"Alright! Listen!" Freddie demanded. "We're taking a break today. We're going to lounge poolside, and gossip about trivial things. And if anyone starts to argue about recording or writing or what you bloody want to wear on stage, you'll be swiftly excommunicated to the chicken coop. Got it?"

There was little push back and soon the lot of you abandoned your breakfast to head outback.

The boys zoomed ahead of you, tossing their things into the places they claimed as their own. John sat at the small iron table under the cool shade of the umbrella and cracked open a magazine. Brian set up his things on a beach chair and was the first to creep toward the pool. Freddie checked his hair in a small compact mirror as he kicked off his sandals. And Roger raced straight for the deep end, splashing you with water on his dive in the water.

You yelped in surprise, shocked by the cold.

"Come in!" Roger chirped after emerging to the surface.

"It's a bit cold isn't it?" You laughed, setting your things on a chair nearby.

"There," Roger intentionally splashed water at your feet. "Now you ought to be used to it. Come in!"

You reluctantly sat on the edge to dip your feet in as Roger waded toward where you settled. You turned your eyes to the water to avoid ogling the drummer, your throat going dry at the sight of his mostly bare frame so close to yours.

"I supposed it's not as cold as I thought." You cleared your throat, more so trying to keep your own cool. He hummed, still inching his way closer, making your cheeks burn.

And then, he was pulling you in. Roger yanked you from the edge, keeping a sturdy hold around you to ensure you didn't go under. You felt strangely comfortable and secure in his arms, in all the commotion. But you were still surprised enough to splash water in Roger's direction, a pitiful attempt to get back at him.

"We're meant to be relaxing!" Brian reprimanded, dodging the water you were splattering his way on accident.

"Exactly, Bri, do calm down." Freddie teased as he walked down the steps to join the rest of you.

"Deacy! Darling! You can read later, come enjoy the sun while it's here!"

And just like that, Freddie's wishes came true. The people he loved circled around your favorite old pool, gossiping about trivial things and hardly mentioned making music at all. It was the perfect summer day.

Eventually, you decided to get out to fix lunch for everyone. On your walk toward the house, you found Otto hunched over a broken wagon wheel, skin tanned from years under the same summer sky. You demanded he took a break and joined the lot of you for a much needed day of nothing but fun. He agreed, but only if you'd let him help throw food together.

When the pair of you toted trays of bite-sized lunch foods out to the nearest shade, the band of boys casually flocked to join you, scattering about the shade and fueling up to float around some more. Otto gave everyone a lesson on the kind of trees you sat under. Brian took a beer back to the deep end, Freddie following close behind, muttering something about catching the last of the day's sun. John offered to carry the empty trays back in, where he planned to head for a much-needed nap, swearing he planned to beat you at cards later.

Then there was Roger, who sulked between you and the rest of his friends. He sat near you, keeping his mouth full of beer as you chatted with Otto about all the times you'd enjoyed the pool most, before. And when Roger eventually joined Freddie and Brian in the pool, the blonde kept casting looks your way, gazes no one missed.

"He's a bit mad about you isn't he?" Otto pointed out in a hush, sipping his own beer while you scoffed a laugh.

"That's just how Roger is. He can't help himself. There's usually a line of girls waiting around for him. I must be his last resort, out here in the middle of nowhere." You explained, shifting your weight in your seat and pretending you didn't notice the drummers glances your way.

"Oh please, if that was true he'd be trying to to make you blush, right now. He's resorted to lovestruck gazes, and the occasional glare my way. That man likes you." Otto chuckled, pointing his beer can toward the boys in the pool. "Trust me I'm a guy, I know what's happening."

"That's dumb." You shot Otto a look over the top of your sunglasses. "Roger is my friend." At least you were pretty sure he was. "And I know that's just how he is." You knew that for a fact.

///

The next morning you'd woken to a silent house, and found the halls were still even upon your return from feeding the chickens. You shrugged into the kitchen, realized it was a little earlier than usual, and fixed yourself some decaf tea. When the kettle rang, the hallway creaked, and you cringed on your hurry to quiet things down again.

Roger appeared in the doorway, looking as if he was still trying to wake from a dream.

"Sorry if I woke you I-"

"It's okay, you're fine." Roger murmured, easing into the room, buttoning up his undone nightshirt.

"Fancy a cup? Mona should be here any minute, we usually start the day with tea." You explained, pouring your own drink and biting your lip.

"You wouldn't mind if I joined?" Roger asked, like you'd just invited him on some grand adventure.

"Course not." You chuckled, reaching for two more cups.

You and Roger were halfway through your tea before Mona showed up. You sat together in the sunroom, where you and your much older friend usually settled at the start of every weekend. Roger asked you'd had any dreams while you slept, and you prompted him to tell of any he might have conjured.

When Mona showed up, she eased across the small table from you like always, but in place of gossip, she spoke mostly to Roger. She asked about his hobbies and he asked about her life. Roger loved getting to know people, you knew. He was always so genuinely interested in hearing what made everyone tick. When he asked Mona about her loves and losses, she'd spoke in a vulnerable way you'd never seen from her prior. Ah, of course. Roger had that way with people, like the second anyone locked eyes with his sea-blue pair, they were in trance.

And while Mona looked after Roger as he spoke, the blonde kept turning to you, asking for details of the week he couldn't quite recall, and begging you to tell a certain story he swore you had a better perspective of.

When the rest of the band showed up, they traded sweet good mornings with your guest just before pulling Roger out into the barn to pick up where they left off the day before last.

"Now what's all that about?" Mona wondered, pouring the two of you more tea, initiating a more personal one on one chat. You cast her a perplexed gaze as she settled across from you, uttering Roger's name like you should have already been thinking of it.

You knew then that Mona was curious about all the too long gazes and nervous chuckles Roger was reduced to during the quiet morning visit at your side.

"That's just how Roger is." You shrugged. "A bit of a flirt."

"Well, that's not how you are." Mona shot back with an arch of her brow. "I know you. And if you really believed he was just having a little fun you wouldn't let yourself look at him the way you've been looking at him all morning. He has the same look, too. You match."

Mona's point toward the obvious hit you like a ton of bricks. Though she was swift to move on to your usual gossip, you felt yourself floating around the same thoughts of Roger.

For the rest of the day, in fact, you struggled to accept the fact that you'd been falling for Roger. Of course, you had, everyone seemed to expect it, root for it. And Roger had the perfect pair of eyes that refused to look away from yours until you were a puddle under his gaze; ready and willing to be pieced back together by his questions about how, exactly you were made.

You took Pepper down the walking paths between ever-growing trees, and wandered between them, the long way back home. The whole time you figured there was no harm in giving in to the little advances Roger couldn't seem to stop giving. You didn't want to fall so deep your heart would shatter when you finally collided with something cold and unmoving. But you were stuck out here for another two weeks, and Roger's persistent presence was warmer than the sun.

///

The next couple of days, when you looked to Roger, your heart started up like an engine. You didn't like it one bit. You only planned to let his flirting entertain you. You couldn't become invested in it. You'd lodged yourself between wanting to spend every odd hour listening to him talk, and knowing you were better off to go about your day like usual, to save yourself the trouble.

So when Roger invited you to come and sit while the band showed off their mostly put together list of songs, you did. And when Roger sat next to you during every meal, you offered him a smile before tucking in. And when Roger woke up to share a cup of tea with you every other morning, you let him. And you liked it.

But when Roger leaned in too close, you turned your eyes to your lap, focusing on your nails digging into your palms so you couldn't feel his breath ghosting across your ear as he told a joke no one else could hear. And when Roger asked to join your walks with Pepper, you told him no, because you'd never been so alone with him before, and you couldn't let that happen now.

The week was full of conflicts between the imaginary angel and devil on either of your shoulders. You waded further from the waters of self-control, but dashed back with the tide when Rogers moonstruck gaze grew too pretty to handle.

By the end of the second week, you'd continued your normal lunches with Freddie, the occasional morning debate with Brian, and the promised game of cards with John, when everyone else went to bed.

You poured some drinks for the two of you and sat in silence while the game started up. But before too long, John eased into a conversation about how much he enjoyed your countryside getaway.

"We're all so glad you've let us come round, it's so nice to be here. Feels like home. Fred might be going a bit stir crazy but he loves it, don't let him fool you." John laughed, laying down a card. You chuckled too.

"And Bri is content out here, with all the stars." You pointed out. Every night, Brian made a show of pointing out all the things the naked eye could see when the sky started turning black.

"And somehow, Rog is happiest. Can you believe that?" John's smile remained lithe but you realized John had subtly achieved changing the subject entirely.

"No, not really." You offered an honest simper.

"He really does like you, y/n."

"Hm..."

You laid a final card down, lost the round, and stretched upright, grabbing both empty glasses to rest in the sink.

"Just because I'm the only girl around for him to attach himself to, doesn't mean he likes me." You shrugged from across the room. John stood to join you, curiously meeting your gaze, waiting to hear more of what you had to say.

"Roger just can't be alone. I'm not interested in being a placeholder." You reasoned.

"Then why haven't you told him so? You've let him follow you around like a puppy all since he got here." John pointed out unabashedly. But he wasn't wrong to wonder why you'd started giving into the small advances.

"Because I like him." You admitted with a frustrated sigh. "And all I have is the rest of this summer to pretend that I'm not just his only option. But I can't... I just can't let him break my heart. It already hurts bad enough knowing this'll all end in a week."

"I get where you're coming from..." John sighed, disgruntled. A silence weighed between the two of you, while you stood in place, mind racing too fast to focus on a single thought through the white noise.

"But, you know," John went on, raising his chin as if that would help make a clearer point. "Rog may be reckless. And he may get caught up in getting the things he wants, so much so that he'll make a bit of a mess on his mission. But when he really genuinely wants something, he gets it. And when he has it, he doesn't let it go."

"I'm a person, Deacy. Not a fucking stamp. I refuse to be collected with all the other pretty souvenirs to be left on a shelf." You spoke in a harsh, exhausted hiss. John hung his head, pursing his lips as if he'd been personally defeated. You spun to leave the room, but someone was blocking the doorway.

Roger was clutching the door frame, fingertips going white, eyes and mouth drooping pitifully. You barely looked his way as you brushed past, scurrying down the hall to take cover. And the whole time, Roger hurried after you, asking your name like a big scary question.

You managed to shut yourself in your room before the blonde rounded the corner and caught up with you. And when you heard his voice muffle past the closed door, a silly little sadness bubbled up in your throat.

You didn't want to shut him out, but you really believed you had to. A couple of frustrated tears escaped as you went on getting ready for bed, and as you tried to talk yourself down from all the mess of thoughts threatening to make you cry harder, everything turned to white noise as your eyes grew heavy.

///

When you awoke, it was as if everything that happened before you fell asleep was a fever dream. You crossed your fingers for that to have been the case and went to start your morning like every one before it.

But when you opened your door, all the dreaded feelings you'd gone to sleep with flooded back tenfold. You found Roger asleep, slumped against the wall outside your door. At his side, Pepper, comfily curled against the man with her head in his lap, asleep too. You huffed, creeping past him to do your job.

And as you hurry your practiced creep through the house and out of the door, you thought you'd made it to the porch steps without any trouble. But of course, when you reached the shed, you heard the door swing open and heavy footsteps bounding down the porch. Roger hurried toward you with wild red eyes.

"Roger I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I guess I just got used to being around you." You let out a breath that sounded like a laugh as you grabbed your bucket of feed, and kept walking.

"Do you really feel that way?" Roger asked, voice rattling in a pitch you'd never heard him use.

"Does it matter?" You shrugged, approaching the coop.

"Do you really think I'm not mad about you? Do you really think I'm just going to go back to the city and shag the first lass I see? I want you, y/n. Isn't it dead obvious?"

"Roger!" You spun to face him, your tone starling a couple of chickens, and the blonde, who flinched away from a bird who flapped too close. "Don't do this to me!" You threatened.

If you could see up the hill you would know your voices traveled far enough to alarm John, Brian, and Freddie who were sharing tea next to the open kitchen windows. They couldn't make out what you were saying, but they could tell this wasn't going to be a morning like any other. They'd been watching things between you and Roger morph past friendly acquaintance, and they realized this must have been the breaking point. Things were boiling over, but where would they fall?

"It's worse to think you might actually be a little interested in me."

"I want to be with you y/n! Why is that bad?" Roger pointed desperately trying to make himself clear.

"For now, you might!" You shouted back. That stopped him in his tracks.

"But I want a forever, Roger. And you can't even get through breakfast without changing your plans. You can't even sign an autograph for one groupie without letting your eyes linger to meet someone else's! They might be okay with it. And if you are too, fine! But it would just break my heart."

You slammed the bucket of feed on the ground, birds hurrying toward the meal. Roger looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. You hated it. But you had to stand your ground. It was going to hurt eventually anyway.

"Then what does it say about me that I still want you? Even if you think I'm so horrid?" Roger winced.

"I don't think you're horrid, I think you're amazing!" You shouted back with a wild gesture.

"That's the whole bloody problem!" Wasn't it obvious? "I'll want you forever, even when you don't want me anymore!" You admitted, only realizing the weight of your statement after your words hung in the air, your heart cracking in its mold.

"What do I need to do?" Roger asked in a panic, stepping closer to you. "How can I prove that you're the only one for me? For now, and for always. Tell me what you want and I'll do anything I fucking swear." Roger's voice was thick and frantic, but you'd heard him sing and forget what he'd been wailing about the morning after.

"You don't mean that!" You cried, moving away. You heard all the times he planned one date with someone else while he toted a different girl on his arm. You didn't think it was a problem, not if that's what everyone was looking for. But you weren't that girl. You couldn't wait on the sidelines and be glad you got a kiss at the end of the day. And you couldn't expect Roger to play the part you wanted if that wasn't really him. You just didn't fit together. No matter how badly you wished you did.

So you picked up your bucket and turned to stomp up the hill.

"Y/n!" Roger plead, watching your storm away. He stood debating on letting you have a bit of space. But, he'd done enough of that. He needed to prove himself now.

You stormed inside, casually so. You'd planned to ignore the rest of the boys who still stood about the kitchen, and head straight for your room. But you hadn't out run Rogers hurry to stop you. He bolted through the entry just as you reached the doorway to the hall.

"Y/n wait," Roger begged, instead of demanded. His dejected tone was what forced your feet to stall before they reached the corner. The boys fell silent from across the room while you fixated your stare at the wall, afraid if you met anyone eye, you'd burst into tears.

"Please." Roger croaked. The room was silent. And when you slowly turned to face him, Roger was struggling to hold back tears, pools brimming in his impossibly big eyes. Everyone around seemed to hold their breath, waiting for you to say something.

After what felt like forever, Freddie ushered his two remaining bandmates out the back door while you and Roger stood, deadlocked.

You sighed, shook your head, grabbed Roger by the wrist, and pulled him toward the living room. You released him from your grasp near the sofa, where Roger slowly sat, gapping your way.

"I don't want to fight with you, Roger." You sighed after a while of staring out the window, searching for just what to say.

"I'm fighting for you, y/n. I've never wanted anything more."

"But Rog..." You implored softly. But when you turned and looked at his watery eyes, you'd forgotten what point you were busy making.

He sucked in a breath bracing for you to keep at it, but you slumped, sitting next to him sorrily. You moved both of your hands to Roger's face, and brushed your thumbs under each of his eyes, wiping away the traces of tears that happened to overflow.

"Everything is different with you. I understand just saying so isn't good enough. Give me a chance to prove it?" Roger asked in a hush, looking in your eyes his fingers slowly wrapped around your wrists. The drummer slid off the side of the couch, tangled his fingers with yours, and looked up to you from his knees, one final silent plea.

Your heart was too conflicted, too quick to cower behind the wall you'd build up. So you just gave Roger a pathetic nod, because you knew you couldn't say no.

"I'm sorry I upset you." You spoke, glancing at the way Roger's hands clutched yours, still. With that, the blonde let out a sigh and rested his head in your lap, accepting the conclusion.

You lost your fingers in his strands of hair, accepting his display of affection, or whatever it might have been. All you knew was that you'd never felt more content and confused at the same time.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while, in shared silence. It was broken when Freddie's voice echoed through the back door. He called both of your names, and then Rogers once more. The band didn't have much more time to waste.

When Roger lifted his head from your lap, you stopped him from standing to brush his hair back into place. The two of you shared the smallest laugh, the tiniest expressions that made you believe you were on the same page. Then you walked toward the sound of Freddie's timbre, side by side.

The singer was wringing his hands in the garden doorway, casting Roger a concerned expression as the two of you approached. The blonde nodded toward Freddie as he walked outdoors and sauntered toward the barn, stretching his arms. But Freddie stalled in the doorway, turning to you once Roger was a few paces off.

"We'll figure it out, I promise." You told Freddie, before he could even ask. You knew he only stopped you to wonder what just happened. The only thing was that you weren't entirely too sure. "We'll be alright. And you can finish your record. I'm sorry-"

Freddie raised his hand ceasing your statement. Then he looped an arm through yours and insisted you come and listen to Queen's newly perfected masterpiece that still didn't have a name.

///

The last week you continued to share most mornings with Brian, and every lunch with Freddie. You still beat John at the same old card game. But each day you spent near Roger, was different.

The silence you shared held a new weight, a ticking time bomb. The conversations you traded were gentler, but shifted around familiar topics. There was nothing you and Roger were afraid to discuss, well, everything except one thing. And when the subject of your feelings for each other threatened to come up, you and Roger shared a glance in place of any discussion.

He followed you out to the forest with Pepper, throwing sticks she'd chase after but fail to bring back. Roger sat by you at every meal, looking to you first for every open-ended question that popped up through your friend's chatter.

And during the last night of the band's stay, after they spent the morning loading up their instruments into their van, you planned a big evening in. Setting out movies and snacks and all the proper essentials for any good party.

Otto came over, with a plate of desserts and some seeds for Brian to plant. Mona stayed an extra night, exchanging recipes with John, and sharing a long chat with Freddie and Roger in the sun room. When everyone gathered to watch a film or two, most of the boys fell asleep before the second film started. Besides you and Mona, Otto was the last man standing as the credits rolled.

When Mona lifted her frame for a big comfy claw-footed chair, she brushed past you with a wink on her way to bed. Roger had fallen asleep at your side long ago. with his head on your shoulder. You gave your old friend a pursed grin, before closing your eyes and leaning into the drummer's warmth. If whatever happened between you and Roger was only meant to last for a month, this was your last chance to enjoy it. You'd already fallen. Why not give in for a second or two?

The next morning, you awoke to find you'd switched places. Your head was comfortably perched on Roger's shoulder, his body turned toward yours as if he was inviting in the comfort. You blinked to the band still passed out around the living room. But Roger was awake, and already waiting to meet your gaze.

You could tell when your eyes met then, that it was one of those moments with a dozen outcomes. Whatever either of you said or did next felt detrimental. So you stuck to what you knew, and asked Roger if he'd like one last cup of tea. He said yes.

Eventually, the boys started dragging their suitcases to the front porch, blabbering about the sunshine and the city they were headed back to. You passed around hugs, sending each boy to their ride one by one. They all thanked you in their own silly little way, all of them groggy and reluctant to leave the quiet.

When the van pulled out of the driveway, you couldn't tell if Roger was looking back or not. You bit back tears as your friends drove off, and for the first summer ever, you feel stuck in Surrey.

///

The next time you saw Queen was on stage.

You'd made it back home to the city just in time to change and race to see your friends play. Because even though you'd had the pleasure of hearing the echoes of their endless rehearsal for weeks on end, you still weren't sick of the sound. They were set up in a small club, getting back into the swing of putting on a show for more than a wandering chicken and or two.

A usual cast of friends, groupies, and followers were scattered about the crowd. You knew some of them, and a few introduced you to faces you'd never seen before then. But when Queen took the stage, the audience ceased their chatter to join in giving the band a warm welcome.

They needed no introduction. Their instruments caught fire and melded together in perfect timing, in alarming harmony. You watched on in wonder, each member using their talent to the band's advantage, showing off in each other's favor. You'd never tire of marveling over their music.

After a setlist full of head-spinning tunes, the crowd thinned out respectively. Fans meandered out front, planning to linger near the band's parked van. Friends drifted toward the stage while the boys tore down their set, shooting winks and nods toward the groupies who slipped backstage. That left you eyeing a side exit, planning your route home, wondering if you had time to stop for a bite to eat on the way home.

But your mission toward the exit was hindered when someone yanked you backward by your shirt sleeve.

"You're not leaving." Brian declared, pulling you along, past the stage, where Freddie spun, blowing you a kiss. Brian pulled you backstage, down a couple of dank halls lined with girls and guys waiting to get their hands on one of Queen.

Brian dumped you off in the doorway of the green room, you supposed. The space offered a sofa, a mirror, and a table full of half-consumed liquor bottles. And all alone stood Roger Taylor. He appeared to have changed shirts, and was screwing the lid back on to a bottle of water when he looked up and noticed you.

If you thought Rogers eyes were bright, his smile upon seeing you was blinding.

"You came! I thought you'd be sick of us by now." Roger chuckled, opening his arms as he approached to wrap you in a hug.

"I swear you get better every time." You laughed, hugging him back, surprisingly relieved and relaxed in his arms. When Roger let go of you, he searched your face as you stood, failing to hide your blush.

"You came." He smiled again, as if he was just now really realizing you were here.

"Of course I did, Rog."

With that, he grabbed your hand like he'd done it more than once. Roger pulled you alongside him, greeting every odd familiar face in the halls. Some knew your name, others learned it when Roger introduced you in passing. He led you right to the stage, where he went to take his drums apart. Freddie cornered you to spill what seemed like every thought he had since last you'd seen each other. John even circled back around to offer you a goodbye on his hurry home for the evening.

Then, the rest of the weekend went almost just like that. You stood and watched your friends warm-up the same stage in preparation to tour later on. And when the shows ended, you waited around to make sure you told each boy hello, or goodbye.

Roger seemed to wait up for you. He never sought you out, never hurried off stage to cling to your side. He simply waited near the bar or in the green room, where you found him kicking his feet until he saw you. Then, he'd dare to cling to you. To grab your hand, or lean his shoulder against yours while you both listened to some stranger tell a long boring story.

Rogered waited up for you, and that's how you knew. At the end of the weekend, you went home feeling utterly incomplete. Thoughts of Roger used to hurt your head and heart, but the ache you felt at the thought of the blonde was much different now. You were only torturing yourself, really. It was time to give in.

You told yourself that whatever happened next, was exactly what was meant to happen. On your drive to Rogers flat, you made yourself accept your fate in advance, no matter what it might have been.

On your march up the complex stairs, you figured you didn't have much to lose.

You knocked, bolts of nerves surging through each time your knuckles met the door. When it opened, Roger seemed genuinely surprised to see you.

"Oh hey," He uttered, moving back to let you in. You glanced past Roger's shoulders as you stepped inside the space he shared with Brian, though the guitarist was usually staying with his soon to be wife in the little apartment they'd started slowly moving into.

"I thought Bri left for the evening. But I suppose if you're expecting him he'll be back any minute..." Roger reasoned, shutting the door and shuffling a safe distance away from where you'd planted your feet in the kitchen.

"I'm here to see you, Roger." You bit back a grin.

"Me? I-" His saucer eyes were innocently confused. He was clad in an old sweatshirt and his hair was still a little damp from a shower at the end of a long night. Before he had time to finish asking what you were doing here, you closed the space between the two of you.

You placed a hand on Roger's jaw and kissed him in the blink of an eye. His lips were warm and soft, and even more perfect than you imagined them to be. He stalled for a moment, but when you showed no signs of pulling away, Roger gave in. He snaked an arm around your middle and kissed you back in the manor a soldier coming home from war might have. Your lips moved together for what seemed like forever, you hoped it was.

"I'm sorry I never did that sooner." You breathed after your kisses died down. Roger kept his arm around you, holding you close against his form.

"Better late than never, right?" Roger mused, curling his lip into a grin as his eyes searched yours. This was what you wanted, no questions asked. It was time to give in.

"If you want forever, I'd love to share that with you." You nodded in a whisper, holding your breath during the nanosecond it took Roger to agree.

"I want everything with you." Roger laughed a little like he shouldn't have had to state the obvious, but was glad to all the same. You let out a small laugh too, more like a sigh of relief, though. You hadn't expected to end up in the situation, but as the summer crept into autumn, you couldn't imagine your world with Roger.

///

Thursdays were still reserved for you and Freddie to share your usual order at the coffee shop. And John still sometimes joined in to share a joke or a wise old sentiment in between your gossip. You still saw Brian at every odd dinner, game night, and gig; where you rambled and argued about the workings of the universe. And in between it all, Roger was always at the back of the stage and at the end of every day, always looking to you. You rocketed into sharing beds, and breakfasts and shopping trips together. You and Roger were never too far apart.

As autumn turned to winter, you went on the hunt for another internship and found something better; a job. It was only then you realized how glad you were to have missed out on that very first opportunity. How lucky you got when everything was canceled and you were propelled into the forest with your favorite band. That must have been how things were always meant to happen. Because the production you signed on to now caused stars to form in your eyes. It was a position even dreamier than you ever hoped to score, but something that wasn't meant to start until the beginning of the next year.

So when Queen released their record and started morphing from hometown heroes to actual superstars, they each begged you to join the tour meant to promote their new music. And you didn't have a single reason to decline.

You tagged along for a couple of weeks, snapping photos of the boys on the plane, in front of shop windows, and on each new stage they took by storm.

And as the days you'd booked to ride along dwindled away, as fate threatened to keep you apart longer than you'd like to have ever been, you just kept planning for your future.

"Let's get a dog." Roger piped up one night, as he slipped into a cozy hotel bed beside you.

"What if he gets lonely? If we get one we'd have to get another." You countered, snuggling close. Roger hummed in agreeance, while you settled against him for the last night you'd get the chance to for months in a row.

"One day we'll have all the dogs we want." Roger sighed, the softness of his tone and the rattle of his chest under your ear was just as good as any of the other music he made. "A whole farm."

"Even a chicken coop?" You teased in a falsely hopeful manner, assuming he'd shiver at the thought.

"Whatever you want." You felt Roger shrug. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, waiting for the catch, because you knew he couldn't possibly care for you so much to bend at the will of all of your silly little suggestions.

"I love you. I want everything with you. Even chicken coop." Roger spoke in a hush, reaching his long fingers to brush your cheek. You stared at him in awe, completely submerged in appreciation for Roger, and this moment you shared.

"You'll have to feed them though," Roger spoke as you searched his features. With that, you both laughed until you fell asleep, together.

When morning came, you hoped packing your bags at a slow pace would stall time, in a magic moment. But in the blink of an eye, you were rushing to catch a cab, glancing over your shoulder to find Roger watching you go.

It was hard to settle back home in the quiet rainy city without the boys to keep you company, to keep you on your toes. But you settled into your dream job, finally fulfilled with all the hard work you spent getting to the place you landed in. You worked, and dreamed of Roger, and pinched yourself every time you realized just how lucky you were.

You and Roger were further apart than ever before, even when you hadn't attached at the hip. But he called, and sent letters, and promised he'd see you soon. And you answered and wrote back and promised you were counting down the days.

When he finally came home to you after months away he bound your way with arms outstretched. Roger lifted you from the ground, spinning around with ease, pleading for you to come on the next tour, and the one after that if there was one. And you knew Roger was yours, that your days were better spent dreaming together. You knew you'd be alright.

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#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor imagine #loc event

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evilbeanghost · 4 years

Text

Snapetober, day 1 - Insomnia/day 2 - poisoned

You can also find it on Ao3.

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Grimmauld Place was as dreary as ever when Severus apparated at the front door with a near-silent crack. Breathing heavily, he stood there a few minutes, trying to summon strength for the incoming Order meeting.

He would have chosen to sleep in a ditch instead if it was up to him. Well, his lips upturned in a bitter expression at the following thought, it wasn't like he was able to sleep these days, of course.

This was exactly what he didn't need: Dumbledore calling for a meeting just after his other Master had just let him go. His life was just so fucked up.

Not seeing how he could delay the inevitable anymore, he pushed the heavy door silently, entering the house like a liquid shadow.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

They had been at it for fucking hours now, the discussion was going round in circles and Severus was slowly but surely loosing his mind. What a bunch of stringless puppets. To top it all, his stomach had been killing him for some time now, and the pain was slowly reaching unbearable level – which was a worry since his pain-resistance was quite high. What was going on?

Tuning out the nonsense Lupin was sprouting about his new werewolfs little friends – Severus was all for the monsters staying together of course, he just wished he didn't have to listen to the corresponding inane reports – he tried to think hard about anything he could have eaten or drank lately that could be responsible for his current ailment. The list was shockingly short.

Lupin's stupid words suddenly evaporated from his consciousness and he stood up abruptly at the unwelcome realization, ignoring the sharp pain he induced doing so.

"Fuck! "

For a little while, he was too focused on his inner thoughts to pay attention to the others. Strangely, it was Molly's voice that reached his ear first:

"What's wrong Severus? Is that werewolf Guidian not to be trusted then, do you know something?"

What was the woman rambling about now?

Suddenly aware that his little realization had apparently interrupted Lupin's furry monsters' tale, Severus felt himself blushing furiously at once.

The mutt bark of a laugh didn't do anything good for his complexion. He knew how unpleasant he looked, and he knew about the brick-red patches that turned his already ugly face into something even uglier, thank you very much. He didn't need Sirius fucking Black to humiliate him further for it, like a sharp dagger in his chest, a time-travelling dagger. He loathed the fact that he shared his current feeling with his fifteen years old self. Only fucking Black could do it – and to some lesser extent Lupin – and it wasn't a power Severus welcomed.

They were all looking at him expectantly now. Swallowing his worry and humiliation, he smoothly smirked, answering in his softest, coldest voice:

"I fear Lupin's report lulled me to sleep, nothing to worry about of course. Do sit down Black, your pet werewolf doesn't seem to be done with the clumsy retelling of his even clumsier attempt to make friend with his furry family. Sad, isn't it?"

Predictable as always, Black began spitting at once, foaming at the mouth:

"You shut your mouth you dirty death eater scum!"

"Sirius!"

The cacophony that followed gave Severus time to sit down and attempt to resume his thinking. Why did he have to drink that wine? He shouldn't have touched the glass when it was coming from that filthy rat!

He carefully unfolded the scene in his mind, trying to find a confirmation that the rat was the source of his current predicament.

He started from when he had been on his knees, in front of the Dark Lord, still moaning after a harsh punishment for his meagre report of the day; then his Master had called the others in, as if torture was just another daily chores these days. It was then, during the exchange of pleasantries between comrades that Pettigrew had been distributing the wine, the most pathetic waiter Severus has ever seen in his life. He was talking with Rodolphus, trying to assess as subtly as possible what the brute knew about his horrible wife whereabouts, when the filthy little man had reached them. Severus had taken a glass, toasted Rodolphus and lightly soaked his lips in it, careful not to consume anything that could alter his judgement during these deadly reunions.

And now, nearly three hours later, his stomach was rebelling furiously against something… Couldn't be a coincidence could it?

The scrap of chairs on wooden flooring took him away from his thoughts again. Apparently Lupin had succeeded in concluding his most boring report to date. Small mercies and all that.

While everyone was emptying the room slowly, exchanging pleasantries with the others, Severus stood up carefully and immediately sat up again. He really didn't feel well now. Fuck.

His stomach was killing him, he felt dizzy and unsettled, his hearing and vision were now distorted and he was sure that he would crash on the floor should he attempt to get up again.

Trying not to panic, Severus stayed on his chair, summoning all his remaining skills to try not to be noticed by the others. He shouldn't have bothered anyway since nobody seemed to pay any attention to him. Of course. They wouldn't want to dirty themselves with the likes of him, right. He always felt like a misplaced cockroach among the Order. At least with his other "friends" he didn't feel the need to suffer from any comparaison. The pain flared again and Severus had to close his eyes to focus on not making any sound.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When he came back to his senses, Severus was taken aback by the heavy silence surrounding him. A quick look to the hideous clock on the opposite wall confirmed to him that it was now the middle of the night. He was sprawled on the dirty floor and had apparently vomited all over himself. A quick spell got rid of the horrible mess but the acidic smell was still floating in the stale air of the room. He felt like crap, even on his own overindulgent scale.

His head felt like it had split in two, his stomach was dancing painfully around nothing, he was sweating profusely and shaking, still a little dizzy from the whole ordeal. Great.

Definitely poison then. What kind was now irrelevant since he was apparently saved from a worse fate by the little quantity he had ingested and his expelling of his stomach content. Severus knew enough about the Art of Poisoning to know that if he was still alive despite the quick and intense effects of whatever he drank, he wasn't going to succumb to it now. Not that it was that good of a realization of course. It seemed he was fated to always endured the pains without being given the relief that should come with it in the end. Be it poison or fucking Dumbledore, they all wanted him to suffer longer instead of going for the alternative, to just stop it all; the ultimate ending of pains. It has always felt simultaneously like immediate relief coupled with cowardice. Bittersweet; an acquired taste.

Feeling like indeed death would be a way better alternative right now, Severus slowly stood up, groaning and wincing as his useless body protested the movement. As silently as he could, he went to the depressing kitchen, leaning heavily on the walls on his way. A good metaphor for his useless life: alone and in pain, but trying anyway.

It was there, in the dark kitchen of Grimmauld Place, a chipped mug of Earl Grey in his trembling hands, that he heard movements above him for the first time since he woke drenched in his own stomach content.

He tensed at once, adrenaline muting the pain a little, trying to assess the situation. What a good pet-spy he was, going like clockwork, all instincts and restlessness. Dumbledore could think he had trained him well all he wanted, the truth was that the Headmaster was just another steamroller in a long list. Severus had been squashed by life itself over and over from the beginning; he wondered now what the first mold had looked like?

The distant sound of a curse took him away from his introspection.

Black. It was just fucking Black of course.

Severus snorted, the bitterness on his face accentuating his ugliness.

Taking refuge in his usual pettiness, Severus smirked unpleasantly at the realization that the great Sirius Black was suffering from the same unforgiving insomnia as himself. It made sense of course.

Taking comfort in Black's suffering, he carelessly put his mug on the table – unwashed – before dragging himself to the front door to try to apparate back to Hogwarts.

He had a lot of things he needed to do before resuming his teaching the next day after all. His suffering but a footnote in the grand scheme of things; as it always have been.

I hope this wasn’t too stupid! :)

#severus snape #snapetober #my fic #it's not great #and I wrote it in one go this morning #but I felt like participating #so here it is #my silly participation #snapetober 2020 #I hope my english is not too dreadful here

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hydromessenger · 3 years

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A Different Place

A Genshin Impact AU verse - Starring OCs and canon characters. Please do not hesitate to leave a review on what you read~

Mondstadt was beautiful once. At least, that was what the old women said when they were telling their stories to anyone who would listen. Ella wasn’t so sure she believed them, though. Their stories sounded like the fairy tales her grandmother used to spin for her, to help her sleep.

It was a nice story to think about, though. That once upon a time Mondstadt had been covered in green, and the people were free to come and go as they pleased. And their beloved God, Barbatos, would walk the streets with his people, playing music and telling tales of his own.

At 19 years old, Ella had long since grown out of fairy tales. And the stories that she used to listen to with such delight, now only made her feel old and weary. She leaned back, bumping her head against the old stone behind her, her gaze locked on the pearly walls that separated Sector 13 from the rest of Mondstadt and released a sigh as the clear ringing of bells echoed through the streets.

A new day had begun in Mondstadt. Any minute now the men and women who worked the streets at night would leave their places of business and retire to their homes, and the merchants who were allowed would start opening their shops. And, like clockwork, within half an hour of the shops opening, the Knights would emerge from their lofty tower to make sure everyone was following the Grandmaster’s edicts.

“Ella!” She was pulled from her musings as a young boy ran over to her. “The Boss has a job for you.” He said, shoving a ball of paper into her hand, before he ran off, likely to deliver other messages from his boss.

She unballed the paper, already knowing what was on it. And she was right, pressed in the center of the paper was the anemo symbol in crisp black ink. She was being summoned.

Ella sighed once again, and shoved the paper into her pocket, before she pushed herself to her feet and started the long trek to Farrier’s shop, which was on the opposite side of the slums from where she liked to watch the sky. She was able to dodge the Knights with the ease of someone with a lot of practice. Though avoiding the Hawkers in their alley was a lot harder.

All of the people in Sector 13 were all a single bad day away from starving to death, Ella included. In fact, the only person who didn’t have to worry about food or the Knights was Farrier. It was an open secret that her Boss was the de facto leader of Sector 13. He was the wealthiest. The meanest. And the largest employer.

In fact, Ella had been his employee since the day that she received her Hydro vision when she was still a teenager. And oh, she hated him. From the top of his smug little head to the bottom of his designer shoes. And yet…

Ella stopped as she came to the largest building in the slums, taking a moment to steel herself for what she was about to see, and then she pushed open the doors.

Farrier’s shop was much more than just a shop. In fact, you couldn’t buy anything from Farrier at all. You could borrow Mora from him, if you felt like owing the impossible interest. And no one in the lowest sector could afford his interest. It didn’t stop the desperate and hungry from going to him for aid, of course.

Farrier got richer, while everyone else got poorer.

“Ah, Ella! I see my boy found you!” Farrier was a short man, built rather like a teapot. He reminded Ella of a rather large fly with his large eyes, and his constantly twitching fingers. He seemed fond of her though, which meant that Ella wasn’t like to starve.

“Yeah. Poor kid needs a raise, Boss.” Ella pointed out.

Farrier laughed, “Nonsense! The boy is here working off his parent’s debts. I don’t pay him in anything other than food.” He laughed even harder for a long while, before he sobered, “Ella, you’re my favorite person here in these slums, my girl!” He boomed, “You’re so competent, and you even have a vision, which makes you valuable!”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Ella pointed out casually, “You said you had a job for me?”

“I do, I do.”He leaned back in his chair, “You know the old abandoned sector?”

“I do. It’s growing by the year, if no one does anything the 13th sector will all be just like that part.” She replied, folding her arms over her chest, “But I don’t have the ability to fix that boss.”

“No, no. That’s not really all that important in the grand scheme of things.” He said, “No. I need you to go into the Abandoned sector, to the old library, and bring back as many books as you can.”

“Uh. Okay?”

“They’re valuable, lass!”

“They’re also illegal, Farrier,” Ella pointed out, “Going into the Abandoned sector is very, very illegal. For everyone who isn’t a knight.”

“True, true. The grandmaster is kind of a jerk,” Farrier pointed out, as if he was unable to see the irony in his statement, “but, I still need you to do it.”

“Fine! Fine. I’ll do it.” Ella sighed and folded her arms, “I’ll need my goggles and my mask though.”

Farrier beamed, and it made Ella’s skin crawl, “Of course, of course! Your mask and goggles are where they have always been. Also, I recently purchased protective gloves from Sector 1, so you don’t have to worry about getting burnt if you have to touch anything.”

“Fab.” She replied as she turned and walked into the storage room on the other side of the room. Hanging on a hook next to the door was a blue bag labeled Ella, and inside were the protective equipment that she would need to stay healthy in the abandoned sector. She dug through the bag for a moment, and then stuck her head into the main room, “Farrier! The sewer key is missing!”

“Oh, yes. I had to have all of the keys destroyed. The Knights found that entrance. You’re going to be going in through the old church in the south of the slums.” Ella walked out of the storage room, and caught the key that he threw at her, “This will unlock the church, make sure you lock it back behind you.”

“Obviously,” She said, slinging the bag over her shoulder, “Is there anything else I should know?”

Farrier remained silent, a wide grin on his face, “Well. There is one thing.”

Ella waited, “Well?” She asked, after he didn’t say anything for a whole minute, “What is it?”

“Ah, right. The original team I sent to get the books...they never returned.”

“What.”

“I’m sure they just weren’t wearing their protective gear well!”

“What?”

“If you can find their supplies I’ll pay you a hefty bonus.”

“...fine.”

“Splendid! I’ll see you when you get back!” Farrier’s creepy smile was back, and Ella turned to leave so she wouldn’t have to see it anymore. “Oh! Watch out for Knights! Rumor has it that they’re poking around the abandoned zone!”

“You couldn’t-” Ella spun to yell at him, only to be, not so graciously, pushed out the door and had the door slam in her face. “-have mentioned that first?” She sighed and spun away from the building. Farrier was a dick, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised at how he had treated her.

She walked away from the Farrier House, and ducked into a small alley to pull out the map of Sector 13, “Hm...southside church. Abandoned…” She trailed her finger over the map, squinting at the small letters, “Oh, there it is. The Church of Barbatos.” It was actually quite a distance away from where she was currently. So she let out a sigh, shoved the map back in her bag, and started the long trek towards the old church.

While all of the Slums were bad, the southside was the worst. Merchants never traveled out this far, due to the proximity of the abandoned sector. The knights never patrolled so far into the slums either, meaning the crime rate was almost 100%.

The only power in the Southside Slums was Farrier.

And if that wasn’t a damning statement for this part of the slums, Ella wasn’t sure what was.

The only plus to coming to the Southside, was that her bag clearly labeled her as one of Farrier’s, which meant that the people who looked like they were going to risk trying to mug a vision user, decided to take their violence elsewhere.

However, the deeper into Southside she traversed, the fewer people she encountered. Until she was only a few streets away from the church, and Ella realized that she hadn’t seen a single person in several minutes.

Although, as she turned a corner and saw elemental corruption clinging to the street and walls, she understood a little better. Ella paused long enough to pull her mask on, as well as her goggles, and she pulled her hat down so that it covered her ears, before she continued.

Elemental corruption was strange. In some ways it was harmless, for example you could walk through a cloud of elemental energy and not be harmed at all, even if it did feel strange against your skin. If you tried to use your vision while in a cloud of elemental energy, your elemental power would be increased, but there was always the chance of it backfiring on you, especially with the more volatile elements, like anemo, pyro, and electro.

In other ways, the elemental energy was so dangerous. If someone were to walk through a cloud of elemental energy while not wearing protective gear they would suffer from lung infections, eye infections, and eardrum ruptures. And that was just the short term. Long term, the effects could be much worse.

If a lot of pyro elemental energy got into your lungs, it could, and would, cause a pyro swirl reaction inside your lungs. And, well, there are less painful ways to die.

Once Ella was sure that she was properly protected, she stepped through the clouds of elemental energy, grimacing at the feel of it prickling against her skin. It would be an electro day.

Fortunately, the church wasn’t far away by that point, and she was able to jog the few remaining streets to reach the old, and yet well kept, building. She used her key to unlock the front door, and carefully shut and locked the door behind her.

The church had long been surrendered to the elements, none of the old pews remained, some had been turned to ash, while others sprouted into brand new trees. Walls were crumbling and the roof was almost completely gone. And yet, at the front of the church, was a statue of Barbatos, seemingly untouched by the elements.

She carefully made her way to the front of the church, stepping over the missing pieces of floor, or trying to avoid the more worn looking pieces at least, and she stopped in front of the statue. Ella stood there for a short moment, sending a silent prayer to the missing god for her own safety, before she lightly touched the base of the statue.

She took a deep breath, and stepped around the statue, hopping over a broken piece of floor, and opened the door that would lead to the abandoned sector.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold, Ella felt several different elements brush against her exposed skin. She turned to look over the abandoned sector and her breath caught.

It was beautiful, but tragic. There were elemental reactions happening all over the place, houses were covered in ice, even as the land around the building burned. Electricity arced through the air, until it got caught up in an anemo reaction, sending the lightning in every direction.

People had once lived here, long ago. Ella couldn’t help but wonder if they escaped the elemental energy, or if they died without knowing what was happening.

She shook her head, putting those thoughts to the side, and started scanning the buildings. Libraries were normally large buildings, so logically, she was looking for a large building. And, if she was lucky, it might even still be standing.

Eventually, as she turned her gaze towards the west, she caught a hint of a large building that seemed to be covered in trees. Possibly the library, and trees were a heck of a lot safer than the fire tornados that were everywhere else. Decision made, Ella hopped down from the ledge that she had used for shelter, summoned her polearm and began to walk.

Elemental reactions were a thing here, yes. Fortunately for her she had her own element.

One hour later, Ella was irritatedly taking shelter under what used to be a cafe. A massive cryo and electro reaction forced her to seek shelter if she didn’t want to turn into a crisp. However, the time did allow her to take note of the fact that the building she was heading towards was, in fact, a library. And that there seemed to be a remarkable lack of elemental energy around it. Or the area around the building was a hot spot of dendro or geo elemental energy.

Annoyingly, she was only a short distance away from the building too.

It took 2 hours for the cryo-electro storm to pass, and Ella hurried in the direction of the library before another storm could start. All things considered, the storm she had to live through was better than most of the alternatives.

Amazingly, the library was still in one piece. Sure, she had to climb in through a broken window, due to the door being blocked by a massive tree, but other than that, it actually felt kind of safe.

She looked around the room, taking in the walls of books, and, for a moment, felt totally overwhelmed. How was she supposed to know which of these books would be worth the most to Farrier? She rubbed the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath to try and settle herself, and she grabbed a book off one of the shelves.

It was a book on the various nations of Teyvat, before the walls were erected. Valuable? Maybe. She tossed the book onto one of the remaining tables. And pulled another one off the shelf. A cookbook. Less valuable.

For over an hour, Ella skimmed through the books, looking for ones that might be valuable for her boss. And she was about to leave when a thin book, hand written rather than printed like the others, fell from inside a children’s novel.

“What’s this?” Ella asked the empty room, as she picked up the book and flipped to the first page.

I spoke to Morax today, he agrees with me. The situation is getting worse, not better and our actions don’t seem to have any effect on the creatures that the Abyss pulled from somewhere. They seem almost...immune to our elements.

Ella turned a couple of pages, making a note of the date at the top of each page. It appeared that this was a journal, or a diary of some sort.

The creatures got into Mondstadt today. I…

They killed everyone.

I’ve had enough. I’m going to go to the other archons and demand that something be done.

Ella stared at the last line she read. The things that she was reading, it implied that this book belonged to Barbatos, and that he was keeping a journal before the walls were built. But, who was this Abyss? And what were these creatures?

She flipped towards the last entry.

It’s done. The walls have been built. The creatures can no longer get to my people.

I created a cage for my people, in the hopes to keep them safe.

I am tired. Building the walls took a lot out of me, more than it should have.

I’m going to sleep. Maybe someone, someday, in the future will find this account, and if they do, I hope it helps.

May the wind guide your path.

Barbatos

Ella closed the book gently, and slipped it under her sweater. This was valuable. Valuable enough that she was not going to give it to Farrier, that’s for sure.

She turned to the pile of books she had sorted out earlier, ready to make her choice for what books to bring to Farrier, only to hear voices coming from the other side of the library.

“Why are we searching this place again?” A deep male voice asked.

“The grandmaster believes that some of the roaches from the slums might try to get here to earn some easy money,” A second voice, a female, replied, “Like the three we caught last week.”

The man snickered, “You really think we’re going to find someone else?”

Ella didn’t wait around to hear the woman’s response, she just grabbed her bag and ducked through a cracked door, ducking down behind the wall. That explained what happened to Farrier’s original expedition; she wondered if they were still alive.

The voices were closer now, “I have to wonder why the grandmaster doesn’t just let us purge the Slums. They make Mondstadt look bad,” The man said, his voice now distressingly close.

“We get some good people from the slums. Desperate people will do anything, after all.” The woman sounded further away, though she suddenly stopped moving, “There’s someone here.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Someone’s been going through the books.” She said sharply, “Spread out and find them. We’ll bring them before the grandmaster.”

Ella shifted further away from the door as the two knights began scouring the room for her. Her eyes darted around the room, looking either for an exit or a better hiding place, but the room she was in seemed to be one of the only rooms in the entire library that was largely undamaged.

The footsteps got louder, and she silently moved away from the door, though she froze when in her haste, she stepped on a loose tile. The door to the room she was hiding in flew open, and the knights peered into the room, their faces hidden from the protective gear they were wearing.

“Looks like you were right, we found a little rat.” The man said, and Ella could just hear the sneer in his voice. For a moment, she toyed with summoning her weapon again and just forcing them to let her leave, but the choice was taken away from her when the two adults both attacked her at the same time, ripping her mask and goggles off, replacing them with a much more industrial face protector, and then her arms were bound behind her back, and the male tossed her over his shoulder, like she was a sack of potatoes.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Ella was pretty sure that she was about to be executed, she would have taken a moment to marvel at how Sector 1 looked. All of the buildings were clean, there was no trash on the ground, and the people were all well dressed and clean.

At least, the part of Sector 1 she was able to see was like that. The Knights had been careful to bring her to the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius through alleys and hidden passageways.

She supposed she wasn’t too surprised when one of the passageways led right outside the clearly labeled Grandmaster’s office. And she wasn’t too shocked when the Knights forced her right in and pulled the mask off of her face.

Ella only had a moment to look up at the Grandmaster, an older man with salt and pepper hair and a stern face, and almost a foot taller than she was, before she was pushed to the ground. She tried to struggle to her knees, but a pair of rough hands kept her on the ground, “We found her in the old library, sir.” The woman said in a clear voice.

“Hm, I heard.” The Grandmaster’s voice was as rough as his countenance, “Pull her up, I want to see her face.” Ella let out a slightly pained grunt as she was forced to her knees, “Hm. One of Farrier’s I assume.” The man said, “I am Grandmaster Ferdinand, I lead both the Knights of Favonius as well as the Church of Favonius. Who are you?”

“My name is Ella Hesse.”

“Hesse. Oh yes, the Hydro user who was forbidden from joining the Knights and the Church. Seems like I was right in my judgement of you,”

“Yeah, imagine that. Someone with no options took the only one left. Go figure.” She spat out angrily, only to let out a cry of pain when the grandmaster’s boot slammed into her cheek, knocking her back to the floor.

The grandmaster watched her impassively, and then turned his back on her, “Get her to her feet and unbind her. I do not kill vision users.”

Ella was forcefully dragged to her feet, and her wrists unbound, though the bindings had been so tight that her wrists were bleeding and bruised. “But you kill other people?” She asked scathingly.

“I do what’s best for Mondstadt.”

“Best for Mondstadt? The elemental corruption is spreading, people are starving, and you’re up here in your ivory tower acting like you’re some kind of god!?”

The grandmaster turned and, with surprising swiftness for someone of his build, slammed the flat of his greatsword against Ella’s chest, knocking the wind out of her. She hit the ground hard, coughing and gasping for air.

The Grandmaster loomed over her, “I am the Ruler of Mondstadt. Barbatos abandoned us, and I will lead us to a brighter future.”

“You’re not the ruler of Mondstadt,” Ella gasped out, crying out in pain once again as the Grandmaster pressed his boot on her chest, applying an uncomfortable amount of pressure. “Mondstadt belongs to Barbatos.” She managed to gasp out.

The pressure lifted suddenly, “Your loyalty to a god no one has seen in decades is commendable, if misguided.” The grandmaster walked across the room, giving Ella the time to get to her feet, though the way she was clutching her chest implied that she was hurt far worse than she let on. “Tell me, what did you learn in the library?”

“I learned the recipe for chicken and mushroom skewers,” Ella replied.

“That’s it. You learned nothing about Abyss?”

“Never heard of it.”

“You’re lying.” The Grandmaster turned and regarded her with ice like eyes, “No matter. The outcome of this is the same no matter what you said. Take her bag, and then deposit her outside the walls of Mondstadt.” He flashed a cruel smile, “If she’s so sure that Barbatos is ruler of these lands, then she doesn’t deserve the safety of my city.”

“Yes sir,” The two knights, who had remained silent until that moment, said in unison, before they grabbed Ella and propelled her out of the room.

They said nothing as they took her bag, and they said nothing as they split up, the woman going to take her bag to the archives and the man bringing her to the gate.

It was only after the gate had opened, and Ella was about to be shoved out that the man spoke, “There are other vision users outside of the walls,” He said, “People who were exiled for speaking out against the Grandmaster. If you’re lucky they’ll find you.” He said quietly, “If you’re not...well, just hope that you’re lucky. Godsspeed.” He then shoved her past the gate, and it slammed shut behind her. For the first time in her life, Ella was outside of the city walls.

The first half an hour outside of the wall was strange, but freeing. But after that, things started to get more difficult for her. Her footsteps became more unsteady, and she started struggling to breathe.

45 minutes after she was exiled from Mondstadt, Ella collapsed to her knees, coughing hard, with blood coming from her mouth. The Grandmaster had broken her ribs, intentionally probably. Just as her vision started going dark she felt a warm breeze against her skin.

“Hold on,” A boy with green eyes leaned over her, a smile on his cheerful face, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

And then Ella blacked out.

On the other side of Mondstadt, on the border between Mondstadt and Liyue, Diluc, an exile from Mondstadt, and Fay, a visitor from Sumeru, were finishing up their patrol for the evening. They were having a nice conversation, after having a peaceful patrol.

Though, just as they were about to make the turn that would lead them back to their safehouse, the wind suddenly picked up, blowing dirt and debris into their faces, and when the wind stopped, a young woman lay several feet away.

“Oh!” Fay shot forward, dropping to her knees trying to determine what was wrong with her, while Diluc quickly made sure that whoever, or whatever, brought her there hadn’t lingered.

“How is she?” He asked, once he was sure they were safe.

“Badly injured,” Fay replied seriously, “We must get her inside immediately.” She looked down at the girl, who’s eyes cracked open for a split second, “It’s okay, you’re going to be alright, I promise.” The girl’s eyes fluttered shut again, and Fay turned her attention towards Diluc, “We need to get her inside,”

“Yeah, I got it.” He carefully scooped the girl into his arms and allowed Fay to lead the way into the base.

#About ella #hazelandfriendsoc #my writings

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motherwasapapafucker · 4 years

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Justice Legion Delta: 'The Legion of Doom'

Initially known as Danny’s Legion, the original members of Justice Legion Delta vanished during a Violent Unknown Event, earning the group the ‘Legion of Doom’ sobriquet and a superstitious reputation within the larger structure of the Justice Legion. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Delta has gained a reputation for being well-equipped to handle the strangest of fringe threats facing the many worlds of the United Systems.

Members

L.exe: Created in the Memory Bardos of the 549th Century, L.exe was designed as the final weapon in the Crime Biographers’ war against that century’s Superman. A living biography, L.exe’s positronic certainty generator allowed it to develop and enact new chapters dedicated to how a long-dead master criminal would have challenged the current Superman, it’s own existence fueled by waging this constant, unending war against Superman on behalf of its creators.

However diminishing resources, a lack of time and a scarcity of information regarding the source mind resulted in a bug laden, factually dubious weapon whose every action was undermined by an artificial intelligence cobbled together from half-a-dozen sources tenuously conflated by the Crime Biographers’ due to shared initials. As a result, L.exe’s burning hatred was matched by an all-encompassing love for Superman, the two extremes cancelling each other out and leaving it almost completely neutral on the subject of his descendants. Discarded and forgotten, L.exe would eventually be unearthed in the 853rd Century by Bill ‘Billion’ Magnus, a data-archaeologist who made a name for himself restoring long-dormant machine intelligences. Together, the two debated L.exe’s function in life now its creators and their war had long since ended, L.exe eventually convinced to embrace Magnus’ stance that it should forge a new path in life rather than its initial plan to stage an all-out blitzkrieg on the Justice Legion and the United Systems.

As the Justice Legion Delta’s self-appointed “head-man,” L.exe subverts the power of its own Maliceware in service of the never-ending battle for justice, even if it does struggle with frequent intrusive thoughts regarding universal domination and elaborate marriage schemes.

Shattered Visage: An early example of living marble technology, the Shattered Visage was the Venusian Amazons’ first attempt at creating a new Wonder Woman for the new century. Boasting a spiritual core drawn from one of their best and brightest, the Visage was intended as a perfect representation of the hallowed Amazonian magi-science that had been the cornerstone of their culture since the dawn of the age of heroes.

With a functionally impervious body, a glut of superpowers well beyond the Amazonian standard, and wielding the latest in thought-weapon technology, the Visage was perfect in almost every sense of the word save one, a tiny almost imperceptible flaw within her living marble body that only she could perceive. On the eve of the bonding ritual that would link her to the Goddess of Truth, the Shattered Visage attempted to talk about the growing uncertainty that had been eating away at her across years of training and development, only to have her concerns dismissed as nothing more than nerves. Instantly rejected by the Goddess, the Amazons doggedly attempted to continue the ritual, forcibly entwining the two for the briefest of nanoseconds. Truth’s proximity externalising the Shattered Visage’s fears and self-doubt, her body irrevocably damaged as her marble skin cracked and reformed to reflect her self-perceived truth. In the political turmoil that followed, the Visage abandoned her homeworld. Joining the ranks of Amazonian Wandering Women that sought self-discovery on the fringes of inhabited space. Returning to Venus to fight in a civil war that threatened to consume the planet, only to discover upon her arrival that the conflict had been brought to a peaceful end by the new Wonder Woman, the forces responsible for her trauma now facing justice at the hands of a true Amazonian paragon. Finding no comfort in this, the Shattered Visage fell into darkness. Spending years as an operative for hire, she eventually came into conflict with her younger sibling during an alliance with OWAC’s Injustice Brigade. Confronting Wonder Woman, the Visage’s attempts to battle her sibling were hampered by Wonder Woman’s refusal to do more than defend herself. As the other members of the Justice Legion and the Injustice Brigade battled in the Magnetic Cloud beyond OWAC’s Death Wheel, the two spoke openly, Visage finally given a chance to confront the Goddess of Truth for her role in the events that had led to her creation. Betraying the Brigade, the Shattered Visage fought alongside her sister, earning amnesty in the process and a place within the ranks of the Justice Legion. Joining the Justice Legion Delta as its resident tactician, she continues to work to move beyond the expectations forced upon her.

Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man: A groundskeeper within the Pangea Collective, Barney Blanc spent his days tending one of 700 primordial tesseract worlds preserved within the collective's archives. The brainchild of Gulliver Larsen, Pangea sought to preserve ecologies found on soon to be terraformed worlds, reconstructing them within tesseract space and allowing them to develop independent of the now controlled environments of their sources. Groundskeepers such as Blanc charged with the observation of a single world-space, ensuring that it remained free from contaminants and outside influence. Larsen urging a dispassionate approach to the work in order to lessen the potential risks associated with the observer effect. Blanc however, could never adapt to Larsen’s demands, in time appropriating a Virtual Interface Headset in order to experience life within the tesseract world. As Blanc’s actions became increasingly commonplace among the Collective’s groundskeepers an embittered Larsen decided the project was no longer fit for purpose, seeking to erase what he felt were tainted worlds and begin anew, he approached the United Systems’ environmental authority with his plans to restart, only for his request to be denied and the Pangea Collective ordered to continue the preservation and observation of the tesseract worlds within its care. In a final, desperate bid to maintain his vision for the project, Larsen covertly hired the Lords of Lighting, data-erasure specialists from Winath, to covertly destroy the worlds. Detonating an electrical overcharge device that wiped over three quarters of the Collective’s archive before the overseer’ A.I. could process what had happened. In a blind, desperate bid to save the remaining tesseracts, the A.I. launched their data packets at the only remaining storage space available within the facility, the interfaced Barney Blanc. By sheer providence, Blanc’s presence inside one of the tesseract allowed his mind to survive the process even as his body was altered to host some 80 worlds on a genetic level. Blanc returning to an externally unchanged body that was permanently interlinked with the biospheres of the tesseracts now contained within him. Subsequently discovering that he could morphologically draw on the structure & abilities of anything found on the worlds within him when he survived Larsen’s attempts to decapitate him by taking on the properties of a particularly resilient carrot. Avenging the destroyed worlds, Blanc now operates as Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man alongside his allies in the Justice Legion Delta. Continuing to support the nurture and development of the remaining worlds when and wherever possible. The Known Soldier: A shifting, always familiar presence to those in their company, the Known Soldier would be an eternal enigma if anyone could hold their memory for more than a second after their departure. To meet them is to know them, to leave them is to forget. Forever viewed as the old friend you can’t quite place, the Soldier’s origins are seemingly unknown even among their compatriots within the Justice Legion Delta. Clad in a feature-obscuring living polymer skin-sheath, even the most basic of the Known Soldier's physical identifiers wildly vary from person to person. The JLD first encountering them during Sigmund Elsswhere’s assault on the Babel Inforum, readily accepting the masked figure as a member of the team even as the exact reasons behind the Soldier’s presence within the system remained a mystery. Among the Justice Legion, the Known Soldier is one of the few serving members capable of wielding Negatron, the Living Weapon without incurring sizable damage to their mental health. The negative spirit residing with the machine equally numb to the Soldier’s memory resistant qualities leading to the two forming a firm friendship. In truth, the Known Soldier is in fact the self-inflicted amnesiac alter-ego of Minos Zero, the Infiltration Ace. Their quantum-superposition abilities operating on subconscious instinct as they carry out an unknown mission on behalf of the shadowy super intelligence that rules over the distant Spyral Galaxy. The exact role the Justice Legion Delta plays in these machinations remains to be seen, however as the team grows increasingly resistant to the Soldier’s abilities it is clear their ruse will be discovered sooner rather than later... Super Sane: A distant scion of the Superman Dynasty, Cris Alis’ was born on the world of Rimbor and became its soul survivor at the age of 14 when the planet was consumed by a hypertime storm generated in the wake of a Qwardian’ incursion led by the Clockworker, sinister antimatter counterpart of the Justice Legion Alpha’s Hourman. Trapped within an endlessly branching nightmare, Alis’ powers and her half-Rimborian physiology combined to gift the child a super-adaptability that allowed her to survive within the storm. As time within it snapped and rebuilt, so too did Alis. Her mind effectively building a new personality from the ground up, each gifted a single power drawn from the considerable genetic legacy of the Superman Dynasty.For nearly a decade Alis’ lived within the storm, nestled within an endless series of alter egos blissfully unaware of both their situation and each other. The illusion shattering when an alter emerged possessing 5-D hypervision, instantly alerting the alters to each other’s presence. Sent into an existential crisis, each alter vied for control until her super-adaptability once again emerged, collapsing each personality in on Alis’ and causing a brief rupture within the hypertime storm that allowed members of the Superman Squad to finally recover Rimbor. Free of the storm, Alis’ continues to display wildly varying personalities and powers. Seemingly reinventing herself each day, her original personality only occasionally resurfacing, it has been hypothesized that near constant exposure to hypertime has evolved Alis’ into a new type of superhuman. Despite this, each alter has shown a consistent dedication to the Superman Dynasty’s ideals and unwavering loyalty to her allies in the Justice Legion Delta. Negatron, the Living Weapon: The total destruction of Negative Space during the Fifth Dimensional Angle-Wars of the 599th and 601st centuries was believed to have driven the Negative Spirits to total extinction. However a single entity survived, crash landing in the 853rd century where it was subsequently captured by that era’s Toyman. Specialising in the design of exotic art-weapons, the Toyman bound the last negative spirit to a living gun, transforming its negative energy into a highly potent ‘Ennui Ray’ that would drive its targets into a crippling depression. Hoping the weapon would be capable of destroying Superman, he was completely unprepared for the true extent of the weapons power. Pulling the trigger causing the Toyman to suffer a total emotional collapse. Cured only when his memories of the weapon were erased as an act of mercy on the part of his intended target. Free of its creator, the machine intelligence and the negative spirit reached an understanding and with the aid of Starfire, the Tyrant Sun’s Daughter & Resurrection Man dedicated their service to the Justice Legion. Partnered with the Known Soldier - one of three beings capable of wielding Negatron without major risk - Negatron, the Living Weapon is an indispensable member of the Justice Legion Delta. The Eye of Doom: In the distant past the Eye was Rhea Jones, a superhuman known as Lodestone who served in the second iteration of the original Doom Patrol. Slipping into a coma during one of the periodic attempts to curtail earth’s booming metahuman population, Jones awoke transformed. Reborn as a being that transcended then acceptable definitions of both humanity and superhumanity. Briefly resuming her role within the Doom Patrol, she would subsequently depart for a then distant star in order to further develop what she realised was a pupal stage in her ongoing transformation into something larger than herself. In the centuries that followed, Jones became something of a modern myth. Her infrequent appearances on the edge of cosmic events & interstellar disasters earning her the name the Eye of Doom. Jones’ was last seen in the twilight of the 114th century, observed entering the temporal eddy left in the wake of the Quantum Superwoman’s apotheosis. With no official connection to the Justice League Delta, the Eye’s tenuous role within the group can be best described as an observer. The team returning to their extrasolar headquarters to discover Jones’ simply waiting for them. Since that time, she has done little but observe their activities, intervening only to prevent L.exe’s erasure at the nebulous hands of Please, Mister Nobody was my Father. Call me Darren. Despite evolving beyond the very concept of loyalty, the Eye has in fact returned from a point beyond the 853rd century in order to prepare the Justice Legion Delta for their role in the coming war against the Anti-Danny.

#dc one million #doom patrol #legion of doom #Justice Leauge #grant morrison inspired #fic

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zerobotic · 4 years

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Well, you asked for it and you can’t say I didn’t warn you :3

First off, the usual disclaimer that I did enjoy DH2. I thought it had some very interesting level design ideas with the clockwork mansion and crack in the slab, the new powers were very cool and fun to use, and it polished some of the rough edges from the first game’s mechanics. It’s just the story and such that disappointed me after how much I loved the first game.

So to start off here’s some of the things I found disappointing or frustrating (and keep in mind these are all just my personal feelings on the games):

“Spoiled rich person learns a lesson from poverty tourism” is a plot that gets on my nerves in general and that’s more or less what happened here with Emily’s story

Like, not to disagree with an anti-rich-people story but the first one did a much more poignant job of highlighting greed and corruption and letting you be the one actually fighting it, rather than putting you in the position of perpetuating it. It felt like the first game showed it, while the second game just preached about it.

Boy this sure did feel out of character for both Corvo and Emily. Emily watched her mother be murdered at ten years old for the sake of political power, and then was held hostage for six months while being told her father was executed for her mother’s death. She got a firsthand view of how much the people of the empire were suffering during this time, and then when she finally got rescued she was immediately kidnapped and used as a pawn again by yet more schemers after her mother’s throne. You cannot tell me that’s a person who would grow up to be spoiled and carefree and complacent with their position, or someone who wouldn’t give a shit about their people. Yes, I know that she was a headstrong, rebellious kid with an adventurous streak, and I’m not trying to claim she wouldn’t probably still prefer, on some level or another, to escape to the rooftops with a sword rather than being stuck in court. I’m just saying that kids grow up and change and whoever wrote the second game seems to be stuck on taking ten-year-old Emily at face value for her adult self’s personality too, instead of considering how the first game’s events might have actually influenced her. She’s got more than enough firsthand experience to know to be wary of scheming nobles. (Also I definitely got the feeling, playing the first game, that at least a bit of how Emily behaved at the Hound Pits was her trying to cope with what was happening.) You also can’t tell me that Corvo, father and royal protector of the current empress, man with the most reason and justification to be paranoid out of everyone in the whole damn empire after everything he’s been through, would be so negligent in paying attention to a coup that the first mission claims pretty much everyone in Dunwall knew was happening.

Building off of that, in general it felt like the first game wasn’t allowed to have much of an impact. It pays lipservice to Jessamine’s death, and acknowledges Corvo having been a badass back then, but that’s....about it? Like I said in the other post, the first game felt so saturated in grief, both for Jessamine and for everything else going on in Dunwall, that it really influenced the overall tone of the game. The second one kinda feels like the first one never happened, or at least didn’t have any lasting influence on the characters or world, and it’s kind of jarring going from one to the other.

So with all that said, here’s my idea for a different DH2. Still using Karnaca as the setting and Delilah as the primary antagonist, just...different.

"Delilah wants to use a reality-altering painting to change the world into her vision of it” is still a plot point. Except, instead of the end of the game, it’s the beginning. It’s a logical extension of her actions and powers during the Daud DLC - the plan to use Emily’s painting to take over almost worked til it was stopped, so there’s clearly potential there. She’ll just think bigger, more direct this time.

The game starts on a ship. Emily and Corvo are en route to Karnaca for some sort of diplomatic mission. We get to know them a little bit during this opening trip: Emily isn’t an absent, complacent ruler, she's a young woman who inherited a difficult throne as a child, after a series of traumatic events, and now she's trying hard to live up to her mother's legacy and prove herself worthy to an empire that still seems to only see her as the child she was during the interregnum. She’s doing her best, but she’s insecure about all of that, and spends a lot of time frustrated with the back and forth scheming of the nobles, trying to please everyone instead of putting her foot down and getting things done. Corvo is trying to keep her safe where he failed Jessamine, but court still isn’t his preferred arena either.

The night before they’re due to arrive in Karnaca, we start getting hints that something is...off. Strange dreams, maybe?

They land in Karnaca and things are different than expected. But they don’t get time to look around, because there's guards there to arrest them, claiming they’re wanted criminals. They’ve got music boxes or something that can strip Corvo of his powers, and only one of them gets away while the other is taken. The one that gets away is stuck alone, disoriented, and hunted in an unfamiliar city - even if you play as Corvo, things are different than he remembers. More different than can be explained by just time.

They meet Meagan Foster. She takes them to meet a group of ex-whalers (the player character doesn’t know who they are). They’re a group that got back in touch with each other in Karnaca after Daud left and the whalers split, and they still do shady shit, but these days it’s generally more smuggling type stuff and they’ve put down the assassin blades. They’re the equivalent of the loyalist home base in this game. Meagan is still the Samuel stand-in, taking the player places and narrating things as necessary.

Information is shared and the player finds out that somehow, the world is changed from what they remember. Delilah is the empress, here, come by it what seemed like legitimately at some point in the 15 years between Jessamine’s death and now, and Emily and Corvo are wanted criminals. No one seems aware of the change except for the player and the whalers (who only remember it because of their experience with magic, though the player character doesn’t learn that til much later).

Clearly it’s Delilah who did something, because she has magic, and she’s the one on the throne now.

The Outsider shows up in their dreams that first night in the new world, but something is clearly wrong in the void, too, and it seems like he’s barely capable of reaching out and communicating with them. He offers the mark, but disappears before really getting a chance to explain anything.

The player goes through the game now with the goal of finding out what happened, how it happened, and how it can be fixed. DH2 and DOTO explained a lot more than I felt they should’ve, at times, and I preferred how the first game balanced worldbuilding with mystery. So, let things be explored and figured out along the way.

Things are real bad in this universe. From Emily's perspective as she goes through the game, we get commentary questioning whether or not she was doing a good job, and comparing it to how things are in Delilah's world. There’s lots of corruption and poverty and people suffering, and the question "is this just Delilah's world? How much of this going on in mine too? In trying to navigate court instead of putting my foot down, was I failing my people in the end after all? Would it have been better if my mother was still the empress?" The difference between this and what DH2 did is that she was trying, there was just a lot hindering her, including her own doubts. In this one, those questions aren’t preaching, they’re a sign that she does care and is pained by the idea of her people suffering like this again, by the mere possibility that it might not be just Delilah’s world.

Corvo and Emily have distinct perspectives, not just the same lines very slightly altered.

The bloodfly infestations are either 1) a natural thing that wasnt supposed to turn ugly like this and has been affected by Delilah’s magic, or 2) wholly the product of unnatural magic. None of this "we need them and they’re always like this, just not this bad" stuff. if you're gonna repeat the plague motif, make it actually horrifying, like the rat plague was. In fact, there’s obvious magic influence here and there in general - maybe not quite as thorough as at Brigmore Manor, but it’s present enough to give you the creeping feeling that things aren’t right, here, visual confirmation of Delilah’s influence, that things have been changed and twisted from their normal state of things. Hell, maybe this is where the hollows from DOTO come in, the original world and Delilah’s altered version of it trying to bleed through each other in some spaces. Maybe that’s a different explanation for the crack in the slab mission, even.

Actually, if you’re gonna repeat the plague motif, lean into the similarities between the rat plague era and now. Have them be reminded here and there by things they see, recount what happened and how terrible it was, compare it to now. Give NPCs lines about the comparison and how some of them left Dunwall only to be stuck living through something like this a second time. Let the first game have happened and had an impact, folks, cmon.

On a similar note, if you’re gonna keep Delilah's backstory the same when we finally learn it, let Emily and Corvo get mad about it. They lived through the first game - what right does Delilah have to talk like she's got a monopoly on suffering and that's why she should have the throne?

Delilah's mistake was assuming Emily was a sheltered child who wouldn’t come for her, rather than someone who's already been through a lot and come out on top. That was almost a satisfying thing about the second game but they messed up the execution of the whole concept and I want it to actually pay off.

I’m not sure if the targets in this one should be the same or how much should change there. Honestly, except for Breanna, the targets in DH2 felt a lot less relevant to what was going on than the DH1 targets did, like...why are half these people even at this ritual? But for simplicity’s sake let’s keep it as close as we can, while also adjusting for the fact that this reality has been tailor-made for Delilah and her buddies. Perhaps the Duke is only the Duke here because things were rewritten to put one of Delilah’s allies in charge, and it was supposed to still be his father. Hypatia isn’t the crown killer (what even was that plot point honestly), she’s the doctor they found to help Delilah recover after her time in the void, and now they’ve rewritten things to imprison her in the institute to keep her quiet and out of the way, and you get wind of it and go to see what she knows. Etc. Is Sokolov involved in this version of things? I dunno! But speaking of Sokolov I want some sort of explanation for where the other surviving loyalists are, damnit.

Delilah did something in and to the void, just like in canon, but it actually has a visible impact here (beyond just a total aesthetic redesign of the void between games that never gets commented on). The void is struggling under her influence when you find shrines, and you never know what you're gonna find at one of them, or what the Outsider is gonna be like, if he even shows up. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of the way DH2 gave him a human backstory, because I liked the mystery there behind what he was and what the void was, but this is open to go either way, either with Delilah finding his death site like in canon, or some other way she found to influence it. I’m not sure how the progression would go of how the void changes over the course of the game, but it would be cool to get to help/save the Outsider in some kinda way.

Finding Corvo's childhood home should have more impact. Let it be like when you find the saferoom in Dunwall tower, in the first game. A temporary refuge in a dangerous place, full of obvious memory and grief - not so much for the time spent here since that's so long in the past, but for all that's been lost, everything they've been through and are in the middle of going through. Especially if you're playing Emily - this is the home of the father she just lost.

Let the heart be vague and ominous again, and let our interactions with it be sad, especially as Emily! I’m still messed up about the first time I heard "the doom of Pandyssia has come to the city" in DH1, and the lines about the floodwaters and the plague victims, give me stuff like that! Especially in a world that isn’t meant to exist the way it currently is, where things have been twisted almost beyond recognition. And give me lines that remind Emily of the mother she lost and how this is the first time she's heard her voice since she was a child!

Give us more on citizens and how they're suffering in this world, the way the first game showed us plague victims who died in each other's arms, journals from the desperate and dying, living people sent to the flooded district. Let it be a reminder to Emily why it's worth it, why she has to change the world back and what she wants to be fighting for when she gets her throne back. Another reason to question - has she been doing all she can? (Alternatively, a source of righteous fury for high chaos Emily.)

This is a journey of self discovery for Emily, either low or high chaos. It's about realizing she hasn’t been doing all she could, despite her intentions, because she's been trying to please everyone and in the end it still wasn’t good enough. She needs to stop living under her mother's shadow and come into her own (and the heart plays a role in this epiphany, probably. This might actually come to a head when she has to let her mother's spirit go, if we're gonna keep that plot point.)

High chaos Emily is similar but in a more "alright no more nice empress" kinda way whereas low chaos is more about conviction to put her foot down to do what's right.

You meet people during the game who in a good ending become part of her new council. Common people, who are more in touch with what needs to be done. It pisses nobles off but she's determined to do better, after everything. It helps both her and Corvo come to terms with the whole safety thing, because you can't ever make sure you're totally safe but you can try to make sure the empire can keep going should something happen to its ruler.

In fact, part of Corvo's perspective on this game probably would involve him still wanting to keep Emily out of things for safety's sake, and wondering if sheltering her from knowledge of magic and such contributed to this situation.

When it's revealed who the whalers are, it's late in the game after we've already come to like them a lot. They don't betray you like the loyalists did, but it should still feel like a punch to the gut for Emily and Corvo.

They don’t know where Daud is, haven’t seen him since the whalers disbanded .

Billie talks about that whole thing, and it's complicated. She decides maybe she should try to find him, after all. Cue DLC, which is about finding Daud, and helping/saving him, and the two reconciling and Billie finding some kind of...if not redemption, then absolution. A parallel to the first game’s DLC, Billie getting an arc like that in Emily’s game the way Daud got that arc in Corvo’s game. Y’know, instead of DOTO going and undoing all of Daud’s character growth.

I know I’m kind of handwaving the actual mechanics of who the targets are and how you actually go about uncovering what happened and how you can fix it and take down Delilah in the end, but this is all just. Concepts. If I were to try to write this as a fic or something I’d have to actually sit down and work out all those details, but for now this is something that’s just been living in my head since like an hour after I finished DH2 for the first time a couple years ago.

(I did warn you it was gonna be long lmao)

#turnabout rambles #mvtk42

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naferty · 5 years

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I know the holidays are over with but Arthur Christmas is on Netflix and I did the mistake of watching it so this is partly inspired by that and partly inspired by @summerpipedream’s wonderful fic.

So here, tiny seven-year-old Tony wrote a letter to have a friend for yule. Thor received the letter and took it upon himself to grant Tony’s little wish and goes to him the day after to be his friend for the whole day. He goes a little further when he sees how Howard treats him and decides to give him another little gift, a tour to his father’s Midgardian workshop. The very place where Odin created the gifts to have delivered every year.

It’s incredible to look at. Tony can’t get enough. He runs, he prods, he asks all the questions. He loves it so much he asks if he can stay. Promises to be of help. Promises he won’t be a burden, just please let him stay.

Thor is at a loss. He brought little Tony to make him happy, yes, but it’s meant to be temporary. A small light to brighten his day before he’s taken back to his unhappy life as the child of an uncaring man, broken and ruined by the loss of his wife. Odin is no longer in charge of the workshop. That leadership went to Thor, so ultimately what he says goes. He can and should order Tony back home, but in a shocking turn Loki steps in and fights him tooth and nail to allow Tony to stay.

As someone who grew up without his father’s love, Loki knows more than most of what Tony feels, and if he can do something about it he will.

Thus, Tony grows up in the north pole. The old workshop becomes his home. Thor and Loki become his uncles by proxy, but it’s really Loki that stops him from losing fingers. Tony is homeschooled. The technology of Asgard his new toys and every year he pulls his weight, or at least tries to, during the holiday seasons.

The first year in his new home he’s helping read the letters and wrap the toys. They’re tasks he takes very seriously. Menial work compared to what Loki and Thor do, but it’s work nonetheless and he’s damn proud of it.

One particular letter gets his attention out of the giant pile. He reads it over and over, wondering if this is the old letter he had written just last year and no one threw away, or if this is another child who’s just as lonely as Tony had been.

Steve G. Rogers is scrawled on the bottom. Messy and in red. He wants an item for his mother and a friend for himself. He’s been good all year. Has helped with chores and has gotten good grades. All he wants is a friend to have fun with.

Tony stares at the letter for the longest time. So much so he ends up late for dinner and Loki comes up to his little office to check on him. Loki finds him still fixated on the letter. Hasn’t budged an inch.

“Little Star?” Loki calls to him.

Tony hums in acknowledgment but otherwise continues re-reading the letter.

“What does the letter say?” Loki comes in and sits next to the small genius.

“Steve wants a friend.”

Loki reads over the letter, no doubt thinking of the similarities between this one and Tony’s previous. “What are you thinking?”

Tony frowns. A sight to see on an eight-year-old. “I want to be his friend.”

“What do you plan to do?”

Tony looks up to him. Giant eyes glistening with purpose, but also with worry. Something no youngster should be feeling. “Can I go to him? Be his friend like Thor did?”

Loki smiles at him. “You can.”

“I’ll play with him. We’ll play tag. Hide and seek.”

“Sounds acceptable.”

“I’ll be his best friend.”

“He will be lucky to have you as a friend, but Little Star, how long will you be his friend?“

"What do you mean?"

"You won’t stay there forever. Your home is here in the north. A long way away from him."

Tony’s lower lip sticks out slightly. "I can’t bring him back with me?"

"No. Read his letter, Darling. He wishes to help his mom. He clearly loves her and she him. He won’t leave her."

Tony looks at the letter again. Thinking long on what to do. "I’ll be his best friend for all of yule. The best he’s ever had."

Loki holds him close with one arm. "All of yule? Every single day?”

“Yes! Every day."

"Sounds like the perfect gift for him.” It’s funny, Loki thinks. The child wrote to santa, but it’s Anthony that will give him the very gift he wants.

So on the first morning, tiny little Steve Rogers wakes up to gifts under his tiny tree. A little strange since they’re not supposed to be there until the twenty-fifth, but they’re there nonetheless. All of them for his mom. None for him. He’s not disappointed. This is what he asked for after all.

He doesn’t see his gift until he walks out of his home and sees a lone kid playing with the snow surrounding their neighborhood. Steve has never seen this kid before. He’s a complete stranger, and yet the kid walks up to him like a friend.

“Hi, I’m Tony.” The kid smiles.

Steve smiles back. His ma always told him to be polite. She also said not to talk to strangers, but this boy didn’t seem dangerous. “I’m Steve.”

“Would you like to play with me?”

How could Steve say no?

They play together for the longest time that day. They play tag with Steve waddling around determinedly with his layers of clothing while Tony dashes through with worryingly less. They throw snowballs at each other. Build a snowman. Create snow angels. Steve’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and from the joy of having so much fun with a friend.

When his ma calls him back hours later Steve is understandably heartbroken. He has to say goodbye to his new friend, but Tony promises to see him again the next day. Steve holds on to that promise.

The next day Steve wakes up bright and early. He powers through breakfast, reassures his mom he didn’t catch a cold from staying so long outside yesterday and rushes through the door. He scans the area rapidly for his friend, crestfallen when he sees no sign of him anywhere.

He immediately brightens when he hears, “Steve, over here!”

Then brightens again the next day when he hears it again.

Then the next day.

Then on eve and christmas day.

Then on new years.

But on the first of the next year Tony doesn’t come back. He doesn’t return on the second, nor the third. For the first month, he doesn’t see his friend again. The second or third month either. By the six he’s given up. On the twelfth month, he writes a letter again. Asks santa to please bring him back his friend Tony.

On the twenty-first of december he sees Tony again and Steve has never been so happy.

On the first of the next year, Tony is gone again but Steve isn’t sad. He’ll just have to ask santa to bring him back again.

And Tony does return. Every year when the workshop receives Steve’s letter, Tony is there in a heartbeat. Every single year without question and hesitation. He makes sure to give Steve the best friend he could ask for. Then one year… no letter came. Tony digs through and scours the thousands of letters, but not a single one is from Steve.

Unwarranted, Tony goes anyway. What he finds is Steve hanging out with another teen. Friendly, very close, like peas from the same pod and glued to the hip. The best of friends.

Just like that, Steve doesn’t need a friend brought by the holidays. He’s gone and finally made his own. Thus, he no longer needed to write a letter. He didn’t seem to believe in the holiday anymore, too.

Tony smiles at the sight. Both happy for Steve and very much sad. Steve is just as important to him as Tony had grown to be for Steve. But unlike Steve, Tony is and always has been meant to be temporary. He was, after all, only a gift from some mystical being of the north.

So Tony returns back to the workshop and continues to grow. Being raised by Asgardians means being the best Midgardian he could be. Loki pushes his studies. Thor pushes his skills. Jarvis, the android built to be his caretaker when Loki and Thor are requested back home, pushes his mannerisms. You can be the greatest genius and you can be best skilled but you’re nothing if you’re not respectful, after all.

Tony grows and takes over the workshop. Improves upon it. Creates the Iron Legion in order to keep the operation running with better numbers. Odin and old St. Nick might be the faces, but Tony is the operator and he has grown to handle it all on his own.

Thor pats him proudly when he declares the northern midgardian workshop Tony’s. “Midgard is well handled with you, and there are plenty of other locations I must attend to. She is all yours, Anthony.”

Loki gifts him with a ceremonial knife when he hears the news. “There is little danger this far north, but you never know who could come knocking behind this door. Use this well.”

Tony keeps the place running with little issue. For years it goes like clockwork. With no distractions and no obligations outside of the workshop, memories of Steve easily fade away. They’re good memories when feeling nostalgic, but unnecessary on the grand scheme of things.

That is until the workshop receives a letter. A particular letter that Jarvis himself hands over to Tony.

“I believe you might want to read this, Sir.”

And Tony does. It’s a familiar letter talking about a topic that sparks recollection of a time when he had only been, what he considers now, a baby. At thirty-eight-years-old, that time felt forever ago but the memories came back easily enough. As if it had only been yesterday.

At the end of the letter is the familiar signature. Mature now and very much professional.

Steve G. Rogers

Tony smiles down at the letter. “Hi to you, too, Steve.”

#text post #long text post #naferty writes #stony #stevetony #childhood sweethearts right here #i know the holidays are over but i couldn't help it #don't sue me #thor and tony #loki and tony #stark holiday au

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh S4 Ep 27: Joey Punches Valon to Death and Seto Kaiba buys a Car.

My favorite character is back!

THE STORYBOARDER.

Like clockwork, the best storyboarder of all of Yugioh saw in the episode notes “This is the one where we shall Destroy Joey Wheeler” and he was like “Yes! this is extremely my thing!” and he’s back at it again, destroying Joey Wheeler with such finesse.

Like it’s so hard to explain in caps because you can’t see stuff move, but this animator is so good at the Yugioh vibe--he makes these character designs WORK for him (or her? No idea the identity of the mysterious storyboarder (or team of storyboarders--maybe this was one little group they freelance out to that worked really well together? I dunno) ) they really capture what Yugioh IS in a really unique way and still remain fairly economical in the animation sense. They do not hold back on any pose, and go completely ham into this ridiculous concept of a card game where you put on a special suit and punch eachother in the face.

Mind you, it’s still a card game and I skipped all that, but man...this is such a good storyboarder and I know that next episode they’ll be gone but for now I’m just gonna bask in it.

First off, Rebecca manages to figure out Seto’s 6-letter password in order to access billions of people’s personal data off of a satellite (we don’t get to find out what the password was) and although the storyboarder is great--they did make one fatal mistake.

The bane of every Californian who leaves California. LA is like a completely different country to San Fransisco but everyone only knows of two Californian cities and assumes we’re right next door to each other.

And it’s like...no, man. I don’t have Disneyland. Do I sound like a cheerful person that lives next to Disneyland? Do I say “bruh” and smile with the force of 1000 suns as we surf the coast on the backs of Lisa Frank dolphins? No dude, I have a strong Bay Area accent that makes me sound like a dry sarcastic asshole and I wear sweatshirts to the freakin beach because it’s very cold and filled with great white sharks.

(Sorry I just had to delete like 10 k words where I compared the entire cast to US cities by saying cryptic stuff like Joey Wheeler : Seto Kaiba is like LA : San Fransisco and like it was the biggest random tangent that only makes sense to me. Quarantine brain, y’all, I got SERIOUS quarantine brain. Anyone else? Anyone else just find themselves wasting like 2 hours thinking of which cities match the personalities of different characters on a show that came out so long ago? Man I need distractions right now.)

But back to what’s happening on the show, Yami is coming to terms with Joey’s struggle about as well as Yami does.

Which is mostly Yami saying “I’m pretty sure I killed Joey in that card game with Bakura in S1 and Tea had to bring him back from the graveyard so like wtv.”

(read more under the cut)

This was like 2003??? I think I keep forgetting when this season came out but we had printers at this point. We had google maps and a printer.

I don’t think I’ve touched a map like that since the 5th grade, where we had this competition to make a hypothetical road trip across America. It was Awful, and if you won the competition to get from SF to New York with the shortest distance, you would win something like pizza and a cool engraved name plate. We did not win pizza, because I could not even unfold this asshole map.

And now we have Google so like thanks, Mrs. Lambert, it was cool, but I’ll never use that information again. I hope. It was such a vivid frustrating memory that these maps still fill me with anxiety to this day, hearkening back to my 5th grade self just desperately trying to use string to measure how many miles the freeways across the midwest contain. (spoiler: a lot)

How OLD is this kid? Rebecca’s like secretly a 68 year old. She’s secretly Mrs. Lambert.

At this point we had a swell in the music as each friend of Joey joined in to announce their willingness to risk danger and save him.

Were they...not going to join him the whole time? It just seemed like a weird thing to bring up sooo after the fact.

Yami then turned to Duke and was like “but not you. You stay here” and he was like “Oh, thank gods.”

Rebecca stayed behind because the animators don’t want to draw her. Honestly, she’s incredibly helpful and they were mad stupid to leave the only smart one in the car. But youknow...this team loves being mad stupid. It makes the show more entertaining.

As they left we had a weird aside where Arthur Hawkins reflected “Rebecca is having just a REAL hard time trusting Yami” and it’s like--Arthur Hawkins! You’ve been dumping on Yami for like an entire season, that’s why. Like don’t pretend you’re all on team Pharaoh now. Why ever stop dunking?

But youknow, character development, Rebecca is going to learn the trust the ghost that possessed her crush/best friend that she’s had for 2+ years on a kid who’s been living in Japan this whole time who literally forgot who she was 2 weeks ago. You trust that ghost, Rebecca.

Or not. I mean you really don’t have to. You don’t owe Yami anything, dude. You don’t need to blindly trust idiot men, Rebecca. You just do you. Trust that instinct of “is this guy not trustworthy?” because yep. Chances are if you’re having that thought, that he’s totally not.

Storyboarder!

Storyboarder what ARE you???

STORYBOARDER!

after this followed a scene that I’ve seen gif-ed just so, so often that I assumed it was in a Yugioh Spin-off. I don’t know why I thought it wasn’t in this OG series, but I didn’t expect it to be here, in the Dartz season. But, it does make sense that this scene was under the best Storyboarder‘s direction because *chef’s kisses * it’s perfect. Every frame is a joy. The amount of sinister expressions on Mokuba, the level of sass coming off of Kaiba. It’s such a freakin shame that this man’s best work so far only lasts like a few seconds.

PS my bro looked it up and this car salesman has a wikipedia page.

He also looked up if anyone has shipped this car salesman and it’s our lucky day because this ship does not exist with any human ever in the world. Thank you, humanity. But, they DID make a wikipedia page so maybe we’re just putting off the inevitable?

I’m not even gonna cap it because I KNOW this is a gif you can easily download from everywhere but mm--this is a SOLID piece of animation. This animator is just flexing so hard, man. Yugioh did not deserve this much care and attention to detail.

Shippers rejoice, Seto Kaiba did briefly consider helping out Joey (before he absolutely drove away in the opposite direction)

(They’re clearly in the financial district already, PS. They are driving 5 ft to Dartz’ house.)

At some point Joey nabbed Valon’s card and so now he also gets to wear a bunch of stupid armor outfits.

This one is weird! It’s very Kamen rider-ish...but it’s a color scheme that feels very valentines day. It looks hard to wear. Good thing it’s animated.

I may need to capture this walk sequence though...if I still have the energy...the picture does not display his very energetic arms-in-the-air walk cycle I haven’t seen since that one Season zero episode. I dunno if it’s a reference to that, but I can’t think of any other reason why Tristan is walking like that.

This is when Mai finally shows up.

Valon lost his helmet during this fight, which lead to this:

What a good note to end on.

Anyways, I have no idea what my update schedule will look like or be, so if you’re new here and you want to start reading these from the beginning, I have a link for that:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

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thetailorofenbizaka · 4 years

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End-of-Book Documents

The Tailor of Enbizaka, worldbuilding notes

About Jakoku

History

An island nation composed of the Jakokuan Archipelago (Amayomi, Enkoku, Susa, Izami) and its surrounding islands, set in the Akuna region far, far to the east of Evillious.

Its current capital is Eto in the Enkoku region.

It has existed as a country since time immemorial, and in the pre-era it was ruled by the “Jamataikoku” led by the “Netsuma” clan, whose white hair was a particular feature of theirs.

In this period there was cultural exchange with the countries to the west, and some of the Netsuma clan that had fallen to ruin migrated to the Evillious region, where they became the ancestors of the Netsuma there. The third clan head of the Netsuma in Evillious, Raisa Netsuma (Netsuma Raisa) was a member of the criminal organization “Apocalypse” and given the alias of “white demon”. She was a close friend of the infamous Meta Salmhofer, and she lost her life when Meta was captured by the Leviantan military. Having lost the head of their clan the Netsuma were enraged, and they committed acts of destruction throughout the Evillious region. Elphegort in particular sustained serious damage from this, and this became a cause of discrimination against the Netsuma in that country later on.

Additionally, the Netsuma lineage has largely died out in Jakoku.

After the downfall of Jamataikoku, several governments ruled Jakoku, one after another, but around year 540 the rulers of each land broke out into a period of warring states, all vying for hegemony.

The most powerful of all had been the Hatsune clan, led by the daimyo of Amayomi, Hatsune Nobunaga. However, when Nobunaga died in a revolt between his subordinates before he could achieve victory, the Hatsune clan was taken over by his daughter Jahime, and she began to expand their efforts towards her father’s dream of unifying the whole country.

However, there were many who resisted the forcible invasions Jahime undertook. One such group was the Tokugawa clan, daimyo of Eto. In order to combat the foreign sorceress Julia IR (later known as Julia Abelard) who served Jahime, the Tokugawa clan allied with another sorceress who had come from foreign lands.

That sorceress went by the name of “Elluka Clockworker”.

Elluka made subordinates out of those who had also arrived from foreign countries as she did.

The wandering swordsman Gao Octo (Gaou Okuto).

The powerful blacksmith Chartette Langley (Saruteito).

Including her favored apprentice Gumillia, Elluka and the others entered into battle with Jahime and Julia.

As a result of the “Battle of Jagahara” in year 549, the country was unified under the Eto Shogunate of the Tokugawa clan.

Right before that, however, Chartette lost her life at Julia’s hands. Julia’s aim had been the vessel of deadly sin, “the Twin Blades of Levianta”, which Chartette had brought over from Holy Levianta, however Chartette had already reforged them into a pair of scissors and entrusted them to Gao. Gao hid this fact even from Elluka, and after the battle of Jagahara he sealed the scissors away inside a cave in the land of Izami.

Jahime survived her actual defeat, but she was murdered by her underling Julia, who had been lying in wait in Amayomi. Julia then absconded, and Elluka and Gumillia left Jakoku chasing after her.

Gao changed his name to Okuto Gaou, and for a time held a position as an immediate follower of the shogun, but when the nation’s isolationist policy began he was shunned for having foreign genes and instead appointed as magistrate of Izami, a backwater piece of land. Despite this Gaou held no intent of rebellion, and diligently upheld his magistrate duties for many years.

The Eto shogunate continued to reign up to the present day year 842 when this story opens.

--But that state of affairs would change when Perrier Cutie Marlon arrived as a messenger of the United States of Maistia ten years later, leading a fleet of military vessels. After the chaos the Eto shogunate dissolved, and Jakoku came to be opened to the world.

“Onigashima”

A man-made island built by Izami in the south-west region of Jakoku. It was made by then-magistrate Okuto Gaou in year 590 for the purpose of managing and safeguarding the foreigners coming into Jakoku.

The immigration of foreigners into the country was heavily restricted due to the shogunate’s isolationist policy, and so non-natives and those of foreign descent were generally only allowed to live in Onigashima. Additionally, all cultural and mercantile exchanges with foreigners were conducted there as well.

In terms of ratios, 60 percent of the residents were Jakokuan, 30 percent were foreigners, and about 10 percent were of mixed heritage.

In the very center is Enbizaka, and many of the people who do business in Onigashima have their shops set up along the hill.

“Momogengou”

A small village in the western side of Enkoku. In the past it had a different name, but it was given its current name by the first Saruteito.

Nearby is a settlement where the Rangu clan lives.

“The Rangu Clan”

A family that has worked for generations at a blade-smithy in a small settlement near Momogengou.

Its founder is the first Saruteito, aka Chartette Langley. When she got caught up in the New Four Horsemen incident in Holy Levianta in year 508, she unexpectedly got her hands on a vessel of deadly sin, “The Twin Swords of Levianta”, and so she wound up being pursued by the sorceress Julia IR for them.

Chartette set out on a journey to the east to escape from her pursuer, and to have some fun sightseeing on the way, and she wound up liking Jakoku so much when she got there that she resolved to live there. When she decided to try being a blade smithy in imitation of her father’s work, that she had watched since she was a young child, she became unexpectedly popular at it, and so decided to make that her job. There were many times when she was given strange looks by Jakokuans as they could tell by her features that she was a foreigner, so she wound up wearing a monkey mask to hide her face whenever she went out in public; however, as she didn’t hide her pink hair it didn’t have much point, and thanks to the mask people were all the more creeped out by her. Though as it resulted in her being able to marry a hunk with a monkey fetish, she didn’t pay that any mind.

In her later years, around the time of the battle of Jagahara she came to be known as the greatest sword smith in the country. It was around then that she reunited with her old friends Elluka and Gumillia, but at the same time Julia wound up discovering her location. Chartette reforged the Twin Swords of Levianta into two pairs of scissors and then entrusted them to her friend Gao Octo. She participated in a final battle with the sorceress then to try and release Germaine from Julia’s hold on her. But the aged Chartette had no chance of winning, and so met an untimely death.

The current Rangu clan are descendants of Chartette, and all of the family heads are named “Saruteito”. The current Saruteito is the 16th.

As the generations have gone on their foreigner blood has waned, and so there are many of them who have features and black hair as befitting a Jakokuan. However, the family head customarily dyes their hair the same shade of pink as the clan founder.

“The Crimson Robed Masses”

A group of sorcerers originally led by Julia IR.

The organization remained even after losing contact with Julia, and though they continued to fight against the shogunate despite being small-scale, as time wore on their reason to exist grew warped; by the present day of year 842, they had transformed into an extremist faction that opposed foreigners.

Ten years after the end of the story they fiercely resisted the Maistian navy that had arrived in Jakoku but the tables were turned on them, and the organization was destroyed.

Other Countries

The United States of Maistia

A country on the continent of Maistia that was founded in year 776.

They have a branch of the Freezis foundation there, and it’s where a great deal of the merchant ships heading to Jakoku are stationed.

The continent of Maistia was originally discovered by a Freezis trading vessel in the year 592. Once they learned that they could obtain a great deal of fine tobacco, alcohol, and ingredients for medicine in this region, the merchants of Evillious got together and dispatched ships to go there.

Thanks to the development and industry of the Freezis Foundation, eventually people from the Evillious region immigrated to Maistia. But at the same time this also brought about problems with discrimination towards the Maistian natives.

In 760 the people of Maistia, who were then substantially comprised of colonists from Marlon, began an armed uprising seeking their independence. Due to the lengthening of the war the Marlon royal family and the Freezis Foundation steadily lost their power; the situation calmed down when a woman by the name of Elluka Clockworker visited Maistia, and they safely secured their independence.

However, the next year the Marlon family were ousted from their position as royalty due to a civil war that broke out in Marlon. At present the Marlon family maintains a certain amount of influence as nobility, but there is no trace left of them as they were in their golden years.

On the other hand, Maistian independence cast a shadow on the vigor of the Freezis Foundation that had once held overwhelming power in the Evillious region. When the developing Yarera Zusco Firm and the like began to develop the region for business purposes, the Freezis Foundation came to obtain power in foreign trade in the eastern and western Akuna regions.

The Country of Marlon

After year 777, this country came to be ruled by the royal Viwirtz family in the place of the Marlon line.

Anxious about the Republic of Maistia’s development, the government of other countries in the Evillious region are apparently scheming to establish some form of alliance between them.

Holy Levianta

It was a religious country wherein the Levin church holds a great deal of power, but after the Four Horseman Incident in year 508 the influential power that Levin had inside the country reduced considerably, and at present they have shifted to an imperial government under the Musubi dynasty.

The Republic of Lucifenia

After the republic took over in year 510, that structure has continued to be maintained to present day.

Its national power has grown sluggish, and so the government is searching for a means of overcoming this deadlock.

The Country of Elphegort

Despite the continuation of the Elphen royal family’s reign, by and large it is ruled closer to a republic in governmental structure, and the power of the monarchy has greatly diminished.

There have begun to be stronger calls inside the country to shift to a complete republican government.

The Country of Asmodean

The stable imperial government still continues on.

In recent years it’s lost some of its tint as a military country, and its relationship with other countries has become more peaceful.

The Kingdom of Beelzenia

In year 620 the Beelzenian Empire dissolved, and though it received a long period of decline afterwards, in year 820 the Kingdom of Beelzenia was reborn, and it quickly began industrializing.