#I thought Brian sang everything on this song

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

Oh child don’t you know, you’re young you’ve got your whole life ahead of you

aaAAAAAAAAnd

You can throw it away too soon

WAY

TOO

SOOOOOON

[lesbianjohnlennon]

It's queer! by Nelson Motta (O Pasquim)

"o pasquim" was a brazilian alternative weekly, known for its paradoxical and satirical nature, published between 1969 and 1991. it was recognized for its engagement with the brazilian counterculture scene of the 1960s and for its role in opposing the military regime. in 1970, the magazine published an article about john and paul (and brian) affair, written by nelson motta. here's the translation (with adicional notes) 👇

It’s queer! by Nelson Motta

Paul McCartney loved John Lennon, who loved Brian Epstein, who loved Paul McCartney. All the whole London music scene (1) knows this, and there, the famous suspicion about Paul's “death”, which originated with an American DJ, didn't catch on.

The "death" theory is well-constructed, but the true story (the one about their faggotry (2)) makes much more sense. And it's much spicier. I prove what I said (3):

Everything was going great in the John-Paul-Epstein triangle. Everyone loved each other, they adored jelly beans, everything was rosy, smoke and mirrors, etc. Ringo and George Harrison were always on a different page. The duo was Lennon and McCartney — they sang together, composed together, did everything together. Together with Brian Epstein, of course, who was openly queer and quite relaxed about it.

Everything was fine until Paul and John decided that two's company and three's a crowd, etc., and kicked Epstein out of the bed.

It's not proven, but many serious and well-informed people claim that Epstein committed suicide after a fight with Paul. Epstein supposedly gave Paul a very valuable gift, which Paul not only ignored but also hung up on Epstein, who, in despair, killed himself.

But John and Paul had many arguments, especially when Paul was still single and John was already tied down with the Japanese woman. The nippo, who is very wild and forward-thinking (4), didn't mind sharing John with Paul, but McCartney (that face never fooled Sérgio Cabral (5)) had jealousy issues. They fought and made up many times, even through music.

To "show the proof"(6) (I'm not sure why this phrase keeps coming up): Paul made up by composing Get Back (To Me) (7), and Lennon responded with a passionate interpretation of Oh Darling that everyone thought was "darling" (in the female sense) but was actually "darling" (in the male sense)(8). These are some of the great ambiguities of the English language.

But the Japanese woman really tied John Lennon down; no one knows exactly how. Or rather, everyone knows how.

The press started reporting that they were fighting a lot, and the explanations were always about "business and musical matters." Only a fool would believe that, since it's known that Apple was never in danger, none of the Beatles were at risk of starving, and the duo's musical production never suffered any drop in quality or sudden change in style.

After his last fight with John, Paul met Linda Eastman, who, through talks and things like that, convinced him to re-establish his heterosexuality (9). Probably out of revenge, Paul ended up marrying her to get back at John with a "for your information, I've already found someone else to replace you." (10)

The final result: John recording solo (Instant Karma is third on the American charts) while Paul is also making waves as a solo artist with Let It Be, first place on the American charts, and Paul's solo album has already been released.

Some clueless people might ask, "But how do Lennon & McCartney songs keep appearing?"

Elementary, my dear Jaguar (11): The duo has an exclusive contract with the music publisher Northern Songs until 1972, and everything one does will carry the other's name, at least nominally, as a partner. This practice is very common among songwriting duos where both contribute to the lyrics and music interchangeably.

You must admit that, at the very least, this is a respectable theory. I can't prove it because I've never been involved in this affair, which is absolutely not my specialty.

They’re the ones who are queer; let them figure it out.

notes:

(1) in the original, “patota musical de londres”. “patota” has a kind of pejorative meaning of a group of people. also means a group of friends or colleagues.

(2) in the original, “bichisse”, and it was the best way of translation that i could find.

(3) in the original, “mato a cobra e mostro o (the) pau”. again the best i could find.

(4) in the original, “superprafrentex”, which was a common slang in brazil in the 70s, used to describe someone who was modern and progressive.

(5) sérgio cabral was a famous journalist in brazil, and one of the founders of “o pasquim”.

(6) again, in the original, “mato a cobra e mostro o (the) pau”.

(7) in the original, “Get Back (Volta pra mim)”, which is funnier in portuguese and i tried to keep the tone.

(8) in Portuguese, every noun has a gender. darling can be translated to “querida” (feminine) or “querido” (masculine). 

(9) in the original, “restabelecer a mão única”. “mão única”, which literally translates to “one-way street”, makes a reference to paul’s sexuality, implying he was going (or into) on both “ways”, men and women.

(10) in the original, “pra teu governo já tenho outra em teu lugar”, another idiom. but works in english, anyway.

(11) in the original, “Elementar, meu caro Jaguar”, a playful reference to sherlock holmes’ line.

disclaimer: this was written in 1970, so is full of outdated expressions (and slurs) so read carefully!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt II australia but i've never been there

I didn't even have to wait for y'all's responses on part I to make this because Australia is WILDING. As per usual, salutations to Arthur's grandmother's boyfriend Brian.

Everything remaining that I know about Australia:

There was an emu war. There were many emu casualties, and no human ones, but the emus won anyway. Sun Tzu is making way for the emus.

That was the only research I did on the emu wars, but as someone who met a few emus once, they were very lovely to me and very soft to pet. They also were very jabby. One of them looked deeply concerned as they looked at me, I believe they thought I was a deformed emu. I am on the winning side of the war.

During Christmas, Santa does not have a sleigh. He has a surfboard, and he does slay.

There are a lot of animals. Many have no placenta, as I recall from biology. Due to the nature of the continental drift and geographical isolation, Australian marsupials evolved separately from placental mammals, and were not wiped out by invading species. Due to convergent evolution, there are also analogous species between the placental mammals and the marsupials.

What just happened I'm sorry deep science trauma was unearthed. The point is, a lot of animals. A kangaroo is probably in your backyard. A koala just stole your girlfriend. An alligator murdered your classmate. It just happens.

KOOKOOBURRA SITTING ON THE OLD GUM TREE MERRY MERRY SOMETHING SOMETHING idk I was 3 when my mum sang me that.

The internet is awful. Rumours are that the local snake ate it.

Australia is very very pretty, I know this because of an Australian Tourism Department ad that I saw when I was 12 and had cable TV.

You must not forget your Hat. It's like the three little kittens song, but with the Hat instead of mittens.

The Wibbles are a thing. I thought they were a band. Spotify said no. I no longer know what they are.

Crocodile Dundee is a thing. I saw him in Snoopy/Peanuts.

Steve Irvin met his wife in an animal area and his daughter met her husband in an animal area. I don't know anything more these lovely folks, or what the animal area was, I'm afraid.

There is a cake with white stripes that is the Best for Birthdays.

The accent is beautiful, but I admit for years I couldn't differentiate it from British and American accents as a child because to me it sounded like the lovechild of them both and it made me very confused.

Uh, Australia exists.

Yeah, no, that's all I've got. Love to the Australian maggots.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Queen + Adam Lambert in Philadelphia on October 18, 2023

Well, that was one of the best experiences of my life! These are my thoughts (pictures and videos will go in separate posts):

I loved how much the entire thing really was a production. It wasn't simply people standing there and playing/singing songs, you could tell every aspect of the show was well-thought-out with set pieces, costume changes, and basically a light show.

I sat in a section on the side that was pretty close to the stage. When they were performing on the main stage, I was able to see everyone pretty clearly, and Spike turned to us and told us to clap sometimes. When Brian and Adam went down the catwalk, their backs were to us. That meant Brian’s back was to us during LOML, but I got a clear view of the whole arena lit up with everyone’s phones. It was beautiful, and the people around us were commenting on how moving it was, too.

Let’s expand upon that: My sister isn’t even in the fandom, but even she said how beautiful LOML was, and how the whole show feels like an homage to Freddie even during the parts when he’s not explicitly mentioned. She said she had a cheesy moment where she was standing there while Adam sang “Who Wants to Live Forever” (which had beautiful rainbow lights), and she thought of Freddie and said to herself, “This is what it means for someone to live forever.” It really is. You really feel like you’re part of this experience of keeping Queen and Freddie alive, and people are so fucking stupid to accuse Brian and Roger of merely cashing in. Even my sister said they have enough money for 3 lifetimes, and are obviously doing it because they love it. Anyway, LOML was genuinely a moving experience, hearing Brian sing and to look out into a sea of lights, and towards the very end of the show, they played Freddie’s vocal call-and-response with the crowd from Wembley, and I did get emotional seeing how Freddie still had a crowd eating out of the palm of his hand +30 years after his death. It made me really wish he was still here.

Adam: You know, I didn’t dislike Adam before this, but my sister and I agreed that we have a newfound respect for him. He’s an incredible performer. When you actually hear him sing live for 2 hours, you realize what Brian means when he talks about Adam’s voice being a gift and everything. His voice was so strong and clear, not a single sour or weak note. These are notoriously difficult songs to sing, but he really nailed them. Adam is also a really charming, likable performer, too. He has fantastic energy and often comes off as very playful. He was delightfully campy as he applied powder and perfume in “Killer Queen.” You can tell he’s having the time of his life, and he took a moment to talk to the audience and say how lucky he is to be in his 10th year of performing with them. Also, his outfits were amazing. He wore glittery boots that looked 12 feet high lol

Brian and Roger: I always knew they were incredible musicians, but god, actually seeing them perform really drives it home. You do have this moment like, “…Damn, they’re really up there playing all of that.” My eyes kept going back and forth between watching Brian on stage, and watching the quick and intricate movements of his fingers up on the screen. 

Brian was wonderful during LOML, despite his back being to us. His voice was warm, and he told us to sing the song to everyone we’ve lost. “‘39” was fun. I loved his solo section. He was way up on a pedestal with a screen to make it look like he was standing on an asteroid, and bright, colorful planets descended from the ceiling and floated around him as he played a calmer melody. It was so lovely. Again, my sister isn’t in the fandom but after the show, she commented that while Roger doesn’t seem like a bad guy, there’s just something approachable, likable, and nice about how Brian came across on stage :’)

Roger was still great, too. I really don’t know where the fuck he finds the energy to still be that good at the drums in his 70s, and even though I don’t like “I’m in Love With My Car” as a song, it’s still objectively impressive to watch him sing and drum for it at the same time. With him and Brian, I can’t comprehend how they’re still doing this. I feel exhausted just from standing there and watching them lmao, but they’ve still got it in their mid 70s. You can tell this is just what they were born to do, and tbh watching how completely they throw themselves into a performance, and picturing them doing that night after night for several months on end on and off for like 15 years……yeah, I see why they had so many personal issues and their domestic lives fell apart lol. I’m not even trying to be mean, I just think something’s gotta give when you’re doing that kind of work, and that’s not even mentioning any harmful aspect of the rock ‘n’ roll party culture. Anyway, the point is that it’s crazy that they’re still able to do this and give it their all, and I’m so happy I got to see them do their thing.

Finally, Brian came out in a Philadelphia Phillies T-shirt during the encore, and my sister and I screamed lol

10/10. What a night. I think Freddie would be so proud to see his work not only being carried on, but how Brian and Roger (and their team, of course) are still adding things to the production to keep it all fresh and give it their 110%.

[dailyweezer]

Not a request, but!! Thoughts on Pinkerton?

pinkerton is their best album easily. or at least my personal favourite (i could see arguments for blue and ewbaite).

pinkerton is definitely the most exciting and interesting album musically, it has a feel to it that i don’t think any of the other albums truly capture. the louder, rougher sound is unique for them and an incredible listening experience and the lyrics are truly something special. rivers writes so well on this album and it’s really interesting to hear the brutally honest wording.

pinkerton was my 2nd most listened to album last year (just after black parade) with like a full 25 hours spent listening to it it’s incredible, 10/10 album

you know what screw it, track by track opinions:

Tired of Sex - really good opening to the album, it introduces the tone of the whole project perfectly. i’m amazed at how well it translates onto pinkerton from SFTBLH, they managed to change it just enough to provide a fantastic opening. the kind of drone on the vocals emphasises rivers exhaustion with his current lifestyle very neatly and the sudden bursts of noise starting up as the lyrics become angrier is gnarly as hell i love the loud guitar

Getchoo - this one hits like crazy i love the sound of the chorus, the little ah-hAH right at the end of it when it goes slightly higher scratches the brain itch just right. the actual characters of the song feel so real, the whole album feels real, and it’s actually mint.

No Other One - same deal with the characters, this is gonna mostly just be me reiterating that Rivers killed it with the songwriting here. absolutely love this song, the long, winding intro kicking in suddenly with the bM-bm-Bm-bm-BM is heavenly, it’s a truly lovely melody (i have no clue how music actually works) and makes for a fantastic song, one of the best on the album

Why Bother? - this one makes me go bananas it’s so quick and fast and speedy and other synonyms and it just mmmmm good track good song everything explodes and i love it. also you guys know Rob Cantor from Tally Hall did a cover of this song for a Pinkerton tribute album and it’s really sick

Across the Sea - oh boy this is it this is the track where my opinion gets the account shut down. it’s good man it’s really good this song really hits. like obviously the lyrics are- they’re fucked they’re fucked up, but they’re honest and the fact that this song even exists at all and weezer put it on the album means a lot and made huge strides in musical lyricism as a whole. i honestly really enjoy it. and like it sounds good instrumentally as well the little piano noodles are so funny and chimey and cool and the repeating of the actual “i got your letter, you got my song” tune by the guitar immediately after it is nice it makes me happy

The Good Life - fucking insane track blam blam blam i love it i love it i love it. it’s time he got back. the actual historical elements of Rivers life that tie into this track is very interesting in regards to the weezer lore. this is a loud song and it’s a crazy song and everything about it is good and everyone should go listen to the good life

El Scorcho - now this is the song of all time. the lyrics are so silly goofy i adore them, he’ll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon man (the sudden slam i tot he chorus from that line is so good as well). Matt Sharps back in vocals are really nice to listen to, it isn’t his best vocal performance in the songs he was on but it’s very nice, and Brian Bells first ever vocal performance on a studio album (pretty sure he sang on the longtime sunshine recording earlier) is slaying honestly. that whole section of the song slams me violently back into the wall with some invisible force everytime i listen to it i mean how stupid is it i can’t talk about it i’ve gotta sing about it and make a record of my heart. anyway el scorcho good song ay carumba

Pink Triangle - funny funny gay song. unironically though this one is pretty perfect the instrumentals throughout the entire song is completely solid and i mean the lyrics are- they put my kind in the weezer lyrics. (actual history element of this is one of my favourite pasty’s of weezer lore, girl it’s about heard the song and it turns out she isn’t even a lesbian)

Falling For You - this one is my favourite weezer song. in my top 3 songs of all time alongside MCR - Mama and Komm Sußer Todd. it is, and it doesn’t feel like it the first time, but it is genuinely one of the greatest songs ever made. just listen to it. listen to the album. every little detail from the japanese voicelines in static at the beginning to the perfect melody and loudness of the chorus to the way all of the verses flow like that to the way he says little old three chord me (such a good line such a good line i am so normal) to the screaming the title in the final chorus. it’s immaculate. i love weezer pinkerton

Butterfly - this track is divisive. most people either think it’s the only good part of the album or it isn’t worth listening to after the rest of it. these people are incorrect. it’s a perfect closer for the album, after all the bangers, this is the mash to make, the full- bangers and mash. i actually do love the concept of winding it down at the end of the album like this and butterfly is really exactly how to do that. it’s beautiful and a really profound and perfect way to call back to the rest of the album and reflect on all the beautiful themes and concepts touched on. and hey, if butterfly doesn’t do it for you, you always have…

THE BONUS TRACKS ON PINKERTON DELUXE

oh baby those bonus tracks

i won’t talk about all of these specifically but Devotion, I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams, Longtime Sunshine and Tragic Girl are all favourites of mine. blast off! too even though that’s not actually on pinkerton deluxe. Songs From The Black Hole was an incredibly interesting concept and a lot of the unused tracks from it or parts that were worked on to pinkerton also stand as incredible pieces of art

so in conclusion:

what have we learned today

pinkerton is one of the greatest albums of the 90s, one of the greatest albums of all time, and everyone should listen to and love pinkerton

i am so normal about weezer

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

5/12/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription

Psalm 65-67, Psalm 69-70

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological. I'm Jill. Today's the 12th day of May and we are winding this week. Not quite. We're just we're coming around the bend in this week together. I hope it's been a good week for you, a week of growth and awareness. And I hope you have found pockets of joy if you are in the struggle of life right now, I think we can think of joy as just this exuberant. laughter nonstop I really like Joyce Meyer's explanation of joy, which is a calm delight. I hope you have experienced moments of calm delight in your week this past week. We're going to continue today in the book of Psalm- Psalm 65, 66 and 67. And then we're going to skip 68 and jump over and finish with Psalm 69 and 70. This week we're reading the New English translation for just another day or two. Psalm 65. 

Commentary:

It's hard to read the Psalms sometimes when you know that these are songs, because you're just saying words and there's certain emotions and inflictions that feels like they should go there. But when you think about David actually singing these, they're going to sound much differently. And I don't know what they would sound like, to be honest. But here's what I can tell you, for whatever it's worth. Maybe some of you don't know. Before Brian and I started reading the Bible, before he founded the Daily Audio Bible 18 years ago, I was a touring artist in contemporary Christian music and toured, made records for well over a decade. But I sang most of my life. And on one of my trips home, I went into the basement and found the cassette library. And these are cassettes of my life, of when I sang just about everything that came out of my mouth. I put it to music or I did a commercial or whatever was inside of me for the day. It came out on cassette tape and ended up in my mom's basement. Lots and lots of songs, things that I made up that were just, I don't know, stream of conscience, maybe. But that's sort of the heart of an artist. Whatever we're feeling, whatever is inside, it has to come out through some sort of creativity. And those emotions that run so wild, so strong, we need a place to put them all. This is sort of what I think about when I read the Psalms and when I read these poems and these laments from David. It's almost this inside journal, like a sneak peek at a very private, very vulnerable diary or a journal that is now available to the world. Sometimes artists, musicians, singers, creatives, we're full of emotion, a lot of creative types, and we can be told we're extra, we can be told we're too much and we can be too much for people. I think sometimes David says a lot of things that are relatable to us. If we're just being honest, but maybe you're more subdued and you're like these thoughts stay tucked inside the four corners of my mind, and I'm just not the sort of person that puts it out to the world what I'm feeling or thinking or experiencing. Totally fine, totally good. Our friend David is not that person. And that's totally okay. That's the beauty of it, is no matter who you are, no matter if you experience emotion heavily or if you don't experience it at all, that it has to be okay. I think if this were modern day, present day David sort of exposing his journal of songs from emotions and feelings and thoughts and despair, there could be the potential of a lot of shame written around this. You don't say those things out of your mouth. You don't say those things to God. These are the things that we've spoke about this week, just being able to be safe, coming safely with our thoughts, our feelings, our questions, our anger, our lament in the presence of God and not being shamed, not being shunned away, not being rejected or labeled too much. So as you hear these songs being read today and trying to imagine what in the world the music would have sounded like in a day and age where King David was the latest and greatest in worship, before hosanna and integrity music, there was King David. But as we listen to these songs today, as they're being read, we can even just find comfort and solace in the validation of the human heart. Lamenting to God, crying out to God, and know once again that it's a very human part of who we are to do so. And hopefully when we hear these words again being sung or read, we can find comfort and validation and know that we are not alone in sharing some of these same cries of our heart that David shares in Scripture. I mean, there's a lot of words about his enemies today. And even just knowing one person is against you can feel as if the whole world is against you. And we find comfort that God prepares a table for us in the presence of our enemies. And I don't know about you, but man being invited to the table with almighty God, my creator of my existence, that's enough. That's good news today.

Prayer:

Father, we thank you for your word. We thank you for your presence. Thank you for this time meeting us, meeting with us here today. I thank you that you never leave us. You never forsake us. And as much as we recognize that we are unable to know everything about you, and we must rest in the mystery of what we cannot know, we still try to know you more. And we have a tendency to not remember that you understand our human emotion and you care about that emotion that we feel. And I thank you that you do not shame us. You do not berate us. You do not reject us. No matter who we are, no matter what our story is, no matter what past we bring into you, there is nothing that you cannot handle. I thank you for who you are and I bless your name. I pray this now in the name of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Announcements:

Daily audio Bible. That's homebase. Check it out. If you have not take a look around. That's also the website. So if you're new here and you've never checked out the website, we invite you to be directed there. Download the app as well if you have not. That's a free app and it's been created and is constantly being maintained and updated for convenience. So we want you to be able to have a very convenient access to the Daily Audio Bible so that it's as easy as anything for everyone to listen to the Bible. If you would like to partner with us here at the Daily Audio Bible, thank you so much for your partnership. Could not do it without you. If you're giving by mail DAB PO Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee 37174 if you're utilizing the app, hit the Give icon up at the top right hand corner. And lastly, look for the Give icon on the website if you need prayer. If you'd like to pray for someone that's previously called in several different ways for you to do so 800-583-2164 or once again utilizing the app, hit the red circle, button it's up at the top right hand corner of your mobile device. You have two minutes on the prayer line. Very important step speak clearly and concisely into your mobile device. Hit Submit at the end and then turn the wheel over to chronological and it will get to the right place. That's going to do it for me today as we wind down this week together tomorrow and I look forward to it every single day. I'm Jill. Until then, love one another.

Community Prayer Line:

Good morning, Dapsie. This is Tonya calling from Suffolk. Today is Friday, May the fifth. Dear Lord, I want to lift up the young ladies called in stating her uncle has cancer and it's met to the brain. And also the three year old that was killed in the explosion at the gas station and the mama's in intensive care. Heavenly Father, I want to thank you right now in the mighty name of Jesus. Dear Lord, I'm asking Lord God, you show yourself mighty for that young lady that's in the intensive care right now. Heavenly Father, I'm asking Lord God, you just touch her right now in the mighty name of Jesus from the top of her head to the sole of her feet. I speak divine heal and I speak life over her right now in the mighty name of Jesus. Dear Lord, ask you to be with their family. Lord God, wrap your loving arms around them. Heavenly Father, give them peace, Heavenly Father, give them comfort, Lord God, as you continue to heal her from this tragic accident. Dear Lord, allow her, Lord God, to be able to come back stronger than ever, Lord God, that she will be able to share the testimony and you will get the glory out of this situation. Heavenly Father, I'm asking Lord God, you to be with the uncle that's in hospital as well in comatoses due to cancer, dear Lord. Dear Lord I'm asking Lord God you just to have your way Dear Lord, you know what he's saying in the need of heavenly Father, I'm asking Lord God, you just have peace, give peace to the family and just wrap your loving arms around them as well, heavenly Father. And I'm just trusting, believing Lord God that the uncle, he has accepted you as his Lord and Savior and if this is his time, Lord God, Lord God, just allow him to be at peace, Lord God. And I continue to speak life, Lord God over each and every situation, Lord God and just have your way in the mighty name of Jesus. As always, DABC. I love you guys and continue to be encouraged.

Good morning. Daily Audio Bible Chronological. This is Jennifer from Tulsa. I am a first time caller, been listening for three years. I'm calling today about a young man named Cade here in our community that is fighting cancer. This is his fourth time around in his young 20 years of life. His mother has also been diagnosed over the years a couple of times, but is in recovery and he's fighting an infection and going back and forth from Tulsa to MD Anderson in Houston. It is heartbreaking to watch them and see all that they continue to endure. And this week his sister is graduating high school with one of my daughters. His sister is the valedictorian of their class and it's supposed to be a great week and she is in Houston because that is where her heart is with her brother. So if you would lift them up in prayer for complete healing. I have another friend, her name is Melissa. She is also battling leukemia here in Tulsa. Yesterday she woke up after six days in a coma. So we praise the Lord for that. If you would keep these families in your prayer, I would appreciate it. I am encouraged daily by the prayers of God's people and appreciate you all so much. Have a great day.

Hey DABC family, today is Saturday, May 6, and the prayer request my name is Samara by the way. The prayer request for Jesus girl for her son Brandon just played and it just shattered me. So I want to go ahead and pray for you and for your son. I know it must be hard, so if you guys are praying, agrees with me. Dear Heavenly Father, right now we lift up Brandon to you Lord and we ask you to have mercy on Him. Soften his heart towards you. Please replace his heart of stone to a heart of bless. Heavenly Father, please do the work that only you can do. Lord, I ask you to reveal to Him how you care for Him throughout his life and reveal yourself to Him so that he may see Your loving kindness and Your mercy, your grace and Your love. Lord, I pray that he would realize, as he's in this low point of his life, that you are the only thing that will be able to truly give him fulfillment and purpose, his God ordained purpose. So, Lord, I just ask that you have mercy on him. And I also want to pray for his mom, who lovingly called in and continues to follow you so faithfully. Lord, I pray that her walk would be an example to him for someone to shine Jesus light on Him in a very physical manner. Lord, I pray that you would give her the strength she needs to endure for her son. And Lord, I ask you to do all these traumas for it to not only draw their own relationship closer, but draw each of them closer to you. Lord Jesus, I just lift up her whole family and I pray that she wouldn't be the only one that came to you, that they would all come to know you. In Jesus mighty name I pray. Amen.

Hey, it's Heather in Nashville. Want to say thank you to China and Jill and Brian. I have not heard Zeke's, but I really just want to say a personal thank you. This has just been I was referred to you guys when I was in California, spending the last of my days well, the last of hers, excuse me, with my best friend, and they took me in and showed me their little morning routine of sitting with you guys and doing that together as a couple. And I just want to honor and thank the people that stay and pray and read the Bible together. It is life giving and to commit to that create safety for your community and your whole family. So you're clearly doing some really good daily habits. I know none of us are perfect, but you are now parling that into the world. I hear people all over the world listening to this. It has really given me something to look forward to every day when I'm having a hard day. And as soon as I get my company up and running, I definitely will be supporting you. Just thank you again for your tireless efforts. Poor China, you can hear in her breathlessness just pouring out from very little lung capacity. And Jill coming from Israel and tired. And Brian, I don't know your story because I listen to the Proverbs, but you're just a great daily family for me and the community of prayer. Love listening to everybody's prayers. And I pray with you guys. So it really keeps me on track. Keeps me accountable. Love you all. Bye.

[itsallyscorner]

request:

maybe like a part 2 where the reader was a singer!

but maybe like everyone in the marvel cast goes to the sweetener world tour to suprised them n congratulate them?

Thank you for the request, hun! I appreciate you for reading my other stuff and suggesting a part 2! Now that I think about it, I might make the whole singer thing into its own series of imagines and headcanons! Just a thought🥰 Happy reading!❤️

A/n: I’ve never been to an Ari concert, so I don’t know the set list, but enjoy my loves❤️

💌.

Sweetener

(She’s so pretty ugh)

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You leaned forward making sure your makeup was all good and to check if your lipstick has smeared onto your face.

“Everything good, hun?” Your makeup artist, Perrie, chirped from behind you. You took a step back, getting one more look.

“Yes Ma’am.” You turned to her and she was holding up the familiar bottle of setting spray.

“One more spray for good measure.” She motioned for you to close your eyes and you did. You breathed in through your nose as you felt the vibrations of the arena. The mix of the music playing out on stage mixed with the cheering of your fans added to your adrenaline.

The tour was finally at Inglewood, California, the last stop of the Sweetener World Tour. You had been traveling around the world for the past 10 months, performing every night in a different country or state. As tiring as it sounded, you absolutely loved the experience. Not only were you traveling and seeing new places, you were meeting your fans from different countries and doing what you loved. After 101 shows and 3 tour legs, it was finally coming to an end. The ending of tour was always bittersweet. You’ve been traveling with multiple people and crew who have grown to be another family. You were going to miss them so much but it was time for you to go back home to your real family. Not only have you missed your parents and siblings, but you also needed the rest. 10 months of nonstop traveling definitely took a toll on you. But nonetheless, it was all worth it.

“All done!” You opened your eyes to see Perrie smiling at you.

“Thank you so much!” You pulled her into a hug as your eyes began to water. You groaned playfully and tilted your head back.

“I’m gonna miss you doing my makeup everyday. Ugh, I haven’t even gone out on stage yet and I’m crying already.” You laughed through tears as Perrie began to protest.

“(Y/n), I swear if you mess up your makeup, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Cry later!” She laughed as she tried to get you to stop the tears from falling.

She gripped onto your arms and yelled, “NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY REMEMBER?” You bursted out laughing at her reference. You waved your hands at your eyes and when they finally felt normal, you looked straight.

“Okok, I think I’m good.” You released a breath as you smiled sweetly at her, “I love you!” You giggled pulling her into another hug.

“I love you too, darling. Have fun out there, you’re going to do amazing like always.” She squeezed you tight before letting you go. Victoria, one of your dancers and friend, peaked her head into the room.

“You ready? They’re waiting for you in the circle.” She informed you holding a hand out. The circle was like a pre-show ritual you had backstage with all the dancers and crew. You took her hand as you all walked out the makeup room. Your heels clicked against the floors, echoing in the hallway. The closer you got to the stage the louder the fans got and the stronger the vibrations got.

The circle was already gathered with all the dancers and crew. When Scott, another one of your dancers and friend, noticed you he began to cheer. Everyone followed along as you entered the circle. You were tucked in between Scott and Brian, who were twins. The two have been your dancers since the beginning and still are how many years later. You were truly grateful for them and everyone who was included in your Sweetener family.

“Damn. Last show ya’ll!” You began causing them to all cheer. You waited till they quieted down, shyly laughing, before continuing.

“Um, I don’t wanna get all emotional and shit right before going on stage. I’m gonna look like a mess out there with my mascara running down my face. Perrie I’m sorry!” You laughed. “I just wanna say, thank you to every single one of y’all. You guys have been the most fucking amazing people to work with. You guys have been working day and night to make the show as spectacular as it is and I love you all so much. You guys are my family and I can’t wait to write another album so I can tour with y’all again. I just want to hug every single one of you, you guys mean so much to me. Like literally, from the bottom of my heart I love all of you so much. I know I’ve said that like multiple times, but I really mean it. Y’all are gonna get a fatass check after this.” You finished making everyone laughing again. By now a few tears have made its way down your face. You even saw a few people’s eyes well up.

You laughed as you heard a chorus of “I love yous” as everyone squeezed in for a group hug.

“Alright! That’s enough crying, let’s get this show on the road!” You cheered to help everyone from crying. Everyone moved out the circle and got into places.

Before you can get in place, Perrie pulled you aside to fix up your makeup. Your stylists began smoothing out your skirt and making sure your knee high boots were securely on. Next was to get your earpiece on while one of the stage hands gave you your mic. From backstage you could hear the intro to the concert playing causing the fans to scream louder.

You got into place as you got the signal to start singing. You sang the opening lyrics of Raindrops (An Angel Cried) and began to smile as your fans sang along.

The platform began to move up when you finished and the beat of God Is A Woman began to play. You were now on the stage, the sea of white lights looking back at you. The adrenaline was still running through your veins. You performed the song, acing every move of the dance you’ve learned 10 months ago.

When the last note of God Is A Woman played, all the lights turned off except for the red lights on the stage.

“INGLEWOOD!” You yelled into your mic, your fans cheering even louder than before. You shared an excited smile with Brian.

“Welcome to the Sweetener World Tour!” And with that the opening notes of Bad Idea began to play, the show finally kicking off.

You were in the middle of singing R.E.M which was part of Act 2 of the concert. You moved towards the pit to see familiar faces beaming up at you.

“Boy, you’re such a drea— oh my god!” You squealed as you saw the pit full of your Marvel cast mates. You saw all the Chris’, both of the Tom’s, Robert, Scarlett, Elizabeth, almost everyone you’ve worked with in Marvel was there. You got down to your knees to touch their outstretched hands.

The fans screamed as the camera from stage panned down to the pit where all the actors were. You took the mic away from your mouth and leaned down to them.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked them through the loud arena.

Scarlett, Brie, and Lizzie were the nearest to the stage.

“We’re here to surprise you! It’s your last show and we wanted to be here for it!” Scarlett yelled over the track that was playing.

“We’ll catch up later, keep going!” Lizzie urged you to continue the concert with a toothy grin.

You held onto Brie’s hand as you sang to them, “Inglewood let me hear ya’ll! Excuse me um...”

“I LOVE YOU!” The fans sang back to you, including your cast mates. You dusted your knees off and continued to walk around the ramp. Before you could leave, you sent an excited wave to Brie and the rest of them.

~After the show~

You hopped off the platform that brought you down from the stage and were greeted by a bunch of congratulations and cheering. You and your dancers shared another group hug.

“(Y/N)!” You heard a familiar voice yell. You follow the voice and see Anthony waving at you with his infamous grin. He was accompanied by the rest of the cast behind him. You run towards them and jump into Anthony’s outstretched arms.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sweaty, but I’m so happy to see all of you!” You wrapped your arms around Anthony’s neck as he spun the two of you around. He let you go and you were suddenly being pulled into hugs by everyone.

When you got to Robert, a proud smile was on his face as he cradled your face, “Sweetheart, that was amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.” He pressed a fatherly kiss to your forehead and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you.” You laughed, your eyes welling up with tears once again. Next was Chris (E) who playfully shoved Robert.

“Stop it, you’re hogging her! Let me hug (y/n)!” He childishly whined. He gasped when he saw your eyes watering.

“And you made her cry! C’mere.” His arms enveloped around you as he hugged you tightly.

In your ear his whispered, “You absolutely killed it.”

You thank him and move on to Scarlett who already had her arms out for you, “Surprise!”

“This was your idea?” You asked her as she hugged you. A cheeky grin quirked on her lips.

“Maybe” she teased dragging the ‘e’. You hugged her again as she laughed into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Scar. This means so much.”

“It’s not a problem, honey. We just wanted to see you together while you did your thing up on stage.”

You were now full on crying through a smile as your Marvel family showed you mass amounts of love. You stumbled into Tom (Holland) who instantly grabbed you into a bear hug. Tom’s actually seen your show in London with his friends and brothers, so this was his second time seeing you perform.

“You know what’s so crazy?” He asked you leaning down to your ear so you can hear him.

“What?”

“It’s literally just as great as it was in London. Like everything looks the same, you sound exactly the same, everything! The show was fantastic!” He looked at you with wide eyes with so much amazement on his face.

You laughed at him and patted his shoulder, “Thank you, Tom.”

Suddenly there was a commotion a few feet away from you. You saw Robert standing on one of the cases your crew used to store equipment in.

“ATTENTION EVERYONE!” When everyone backstage was looking at him Robert sent them a sweet smile and was handed a megaphone.

“Alright, so I gotta say, (y/n), you definitely know how to throw a show. Everyone who was part of this tour, your hard work pays off because that show was the most fun I’ve had in a while! (Y/n), you keep surprising us everyday with your talent and I hope you get to do more of what you love in the future. As my way of thanking you all for throwing such an amazing night, I want to take out every single one of you for dinner! I just rented out a whole restaurant just for all of us and I hope to see all of you there!” Robert said into the megaphone. A round of cheers and claps were heard from everyone at the announcement. As everyone began to file out, you were being called to get out of your costume.

Before you can turn to leave you hugged Robert and looked at all your cast mates who showed up for the night.

“Thank you guys for being here, it really means a lot.” You sniffled, wiping a tear from your face.

“And you, I can’t believe you rented out a restaurant for my crew, thank you Robert.” The older man just waves you off as he slung his arm around your shoulder.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. We wanted to be here and we are all so proud of you, you’ve come a long way, (y/n).” He gave your shoulders a squeeze.

“Now run along now, you still need to get changed and I’m starving. Go.” He teasingly turned you towards your stylists. You rolled your eyes as you waved at all of them.

“We’ll see you at the restaurant!” You heard Brie yell after you. You quickly turn back, “OK, I LOVE YOU!”

The further you got you heard Evans scream, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” You turned down the hall, your laugh echoing against its walls.

That was definitely one way to end a tour.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Nuevo Estadio de Vallecas in Madrid, Spain - August 3, 1986

(x)

There was a fight backstage before the show, and virtually everything in the dressing room was destroyed. At some point during the altercation, Freddie insisted that this would be his last tour. In 2011, Brian recalled Freddie saying something like, "Oh I can't fucking do this anymore. My whole body’s wracked with pain!" Brian added, "He normally said things like that at the end of a tour, so I don’t think we took it seriously." But Freddie was for real this time.

In the blu-ray extras of the 2011 "Days Of Our Lives" documentary, Roger Taylor explained that John Deacon was going through a difficult time in his personal life. On this tour, Roger says "He had cocktail bar behind his amplifier, and his roadie would whip up a few cocktails throughout the show." Brian added that all of their their marriages were breaking up. They were completely immersed in Queen at this point, and the touring life particularly made family life a challenge. The frustation came out in various ways, like when John threw his bass at the Knebworth show.

The photos were taken by Dave Matkin, who recalls the show: "John appeared to be in a world of his own, at one point walking to the front of the stage in-between the Rock and Roll medley much to the consternation of Freddie who kept a watchful eye on him as he went on his travels."

Before Who Wants To Live Forever, Freddie sings the intro to Mustapha for the last time. Perhaps he skipped out on the usual "Queen's not gonna break up" speech because of the fight before the show.

Things seem to loosen up by the acoustic set, as Roger has a good time during Hello Mary Lou. He and John then jam a bit before Tutti Frutti, to which Freddie responds, "What beat are you doing, John?" which Brian finds amusing. Freddie then starts singing the song, and John jokingly doesn't play for the first two bars in light of Freddie's comment. After John starts playing again, between lines Freddie asks "What is happening?" However, after the show the band resumed their quarrelling, with many more things being broken backstage.

Here is a review of the show from a Spanish newspaper, submitted by Alessio Rizzitelli.

(x)

Fan Stories

“I saw Queen in Madrid back in 1986. When I was a kid, I remember having heard Mustapha (perhaps it was released as a single here in Spain, it's always been a popular track), and I loved the song. I also remember, after watching Flash Gordon, which I loved, that the music was great! I was only 12 so when I read music by Queen I thought that it made sense because those voices seemed feminine to me. It was only when Greatest Hits I was released that I became consciously interested in Queen, and I started buying all their stuff. What a shock when me and my friends found out that the singer was the mustached guy! Don't know why but we thought that the singer had to be either the short-haired or the blonde one. Funny, Brian always looked like a guitar player. We never saw any videos until Radio Ga Ga and Live Aid on TV. Anyway, in 1986 we had a terrific LP and great singles - and Queen in Spain. Me and my brother Carlos got a couple of tickets for the Madrid show and the concert was just excellent, they could have filled up the Santiago Bernabeu (twice as big as the stadium they played in), they were at the top of their success in Spain. We enjoyed every minute of their performance (but for the guitar solo, always a little long for me), we sang everything, favourite songs: Who Wants To Live Forever and Hammer To Fall. I remember the crowd jumping during Magic, Rock You, the wonderful Champions and Bo Rhap... what a laugh in Break Free when at the start of the 2nd verse Freddie stopped singing expecting to hear I've fallen in love, and the crowd erupted I WANT TO BREAK FREE again?!! I'll always remember Brian´s face (What the fuck?), staring at us (not me, I sure knew the lyrics!). Ga Ga was GIGANTIC! Not a favourite of mine up until that day... My only mistake was when Lap Of The Gods started and I yelled LILY OF THE VALLEY! After that I've always been a fan, and I was known as Freddie at university (nicknames were easier than real names when you got drunk, and they stuck with you forever!). Even after more than 10 years people still tell me that when they hear anything from or about Queen they think of me, not bad, huh? The saddest moment was when Freddie died. My brother Jose said after reading the lyrics to the show must go on when Innuendo was released "He's sick, this is some kind of farewell, he´s dying of AIDS." I replied "you don't know what you´re talking about." Well, yes he did (but he always says the same about everyone!). When Back to the Light was released I had the chance to see Brian in Madrid. Wonderful concert, all of us in our best Queen T-shirts (mine was the Magic Tour T-shirt). We missed Driven by You but we were treated to bits of Las Palabras de Amor, '39, Mustapha and a whole Teo Torriatte, which got so emotional...

A couple of funny things happened during this concert. One was the presence of one of the sisters of King Juan Carlos, who apparently seemed to enjoy the concert (even though she didn't really get up), even Brian's solo! The other one, I had the chance to speak with Jim Beach. I went to the concert with my friend Ricky, cheers man, if you're reading, and we started talking with some other Queen fans, basically showing off, trying to impress them with the sheer size of our Queen knowledge, we knew absolutely everything they asked, even why Freddie used a footless stand, but we were unable to convince them that Hot Space stinks (I mean I love it but just because it's Queen, otherwise, tracks such as Staying Power, Action this Day...) In the middle of this highly intellectual debate I see a little silhouetto of a man and as I seem to remember him from the Magic Years Videos I shout out loud "HULLO JIM!" The guy answers back "Hello", and quick as Han Solo I hit: "Think I know you, you´ve got something to do with Queen, right?" and then I realized "You're Jim Beach, aren't you?" Well, yes he was and very kindly he answered my questions (How's the tour going? OK. What's Roger doing? Basically nothing. Any chance to get anything new from Queen? Possibly). He explained he had to leave and I thanked him very much. When he left, everybody around me was nervous: Who's this guy? (remember the command of the english language here in Spain is not so fluent as it should be), What did he say? and, last but not least, how the fuck was I so dumb as not to ask him to take us backstage to meet Brian?” - Paco Andrés

[bobataeminsuga]

everyone's talking about music in your asks so i wanna know what your music hcs are for the genshin boys 👉👈

anon im so sorry for taking so long to reply but i really thought about it... and this is the first time ive ever made like a list of hcs so bear with me

i didnt know whether you meant hcs for the type of music they listened to or like them as musicians so i kinda did both

Genshin boy’s music headcannons under the cut!!

characters: kaeya, diluc, venti, albedo, bennett, razor, xingqiu, chongyun, zhongli, childe, xiao, scaramouche, aether, dainsleif

kaeya:

I get big sweater weather by the neighbourhood vibes from him

bi icon i guess

He loves the neighbourhood

Daddy issues by the neighbourhood yessir

He can play the guitar. his voice is okay, he’s not bad, he can sing and its really nice but its not the prettiest out of all the genshin boys

he loves serenading people and it just works bro, he knows exactly how to make people fall for him

diluc:

a lot of ppl say he would listen to like emo music or something but he listens to classical music

i mean he's a nobleman after all

he grew up learning the piano so he fell in love with classical music at a young age

unlike kaeya, he doesnt serenade people, instead you can find him playing piano at midnight, very captivating (i think i said this in a previous post lol)

hates it when kaeya gets control over the music

definitely the "pop music is so annoying and meaningless" bitch

venti:

nicki Minaj

I dont know why but nicki Minaj

Maybe doja cat too ngl

tbh venti just loves every genre of music

but he really loves everything the nameless bard has ever sung to him - whether it was an original song or not

Learnt every instrument just so he could play the nameless bard’s music wherever he went - venti loves him and his music very much

albedo:

Something magical

ghibli soundtracks maybe?

he likes merry-go-round from howls moving castle that's for sure

maybe chill vibey music

Luke chiang, maybe?

I wouldn’t be surprised if he could play the piano too but violin me thinks… or maybe viola just to prove how much better he is at music theory oooh so fancy he can read alto clef even though violas suck

Only sings lullabies to klee, doesnt sing otherwise, but he has a very calming and pretty singing voice, everyone wishes he sang more (khoi dao singing :,) )

bennett:

number one victory royale- no jk he doesn't listen to that shit unironically

bennett likes Wilbur Soot

really likes your new boyfriend

but other than that he really likes music with deep lyrics, he likes meaningful things

he also really likes singing, he's not that great at it but he loves it and he wants to get better at it

would probably be a band kid, probably plays the trumpet or something

razor:

razor doesn't really understand music

he doesn't have a favourite genre or artist or song

but he really likes bennett's singing

even if bennett thinks he's bad, razor likes listening to him sing, he thinks bennett is the best singer in all of teyvet

he doesn't know this wilbur soot guy, he thinks those are bennett’s songs and that bennett wrote im in love with an egirl about fischl and doesn’t know how to feel about that

Razor cant play any instruments but if he did maybe drums??? Hm… 

xingqiu:

everyone thinks he likes classical music - which he does, its just not his favourite

he listens to cavetown me thinks

like i think he listens to cavetown if you get what im saying

Sings lemon boy to chongyun even if he isnt a good singer

He plays the flute, not the best, he’s still learning

his older brother plays the violin and they often argue about which is the better/worse instrument

chongyun:

rnb? I get an rnb vibe from him

maybe krnb? like junny and crush

Chongyun is very swaggy imo so i feel like he’d like swaggy chill music therefore krnb

Not the biggest fan of cavetown but if xingqiu is listening to this is home then chongyun knows he has to be there to comfort him and sits through the song anyways 

Chongyun doesnt play any instruments, he sings all the time without realizing it though

he has a very nice voice and xingqiu always tells him this but he doesnt believe this (kinsens singing voice ;-;)

zhongli:

yet another classical music enjoyer

doesnt really mind other genres but he doesnt really like rap

also really likes old rock

journey, the Beatles, queen, he loves it all

but his favourite song is the song guizhong sings to the glaze lilies, nothing can replace that

Cant sing for shit, which is why he cant pick glaze lilies himself

Cant play any instruments either, playing music was always guizhong’s thing, not really his so he never bothered learning

childe:

pop music, whatever’s on the radio im sorry white boy

but also… hayloft? I feel like he would listen to hayloft but the question is would he listen to hayloft?

Surprisingly listens to rich brian bc he heard scaramouche listening once and loved it

Can sing, like he gets the notes right and stuff, nobody wants to hear it though (im so sorry griffin burns)

But sometimes he sings lullabies to tonia, anton, and teucer and :,)

Knows a little bit of piano - he had to teach tonia a bit back home bc they couldnt afford a piano teacher for her until he became a harbinger

xiao:

my chemical romance- nah I'm just joking he likes calming music, mcr and music like that would actually get on his nerves

he likes whatever venti plays

which makes him another big fan of the nameless bard - he doesnt know the songs aren’t venti’s though

JOJI

I think he likes joji, slow dancing in the dark and like you do are his favourites

Agoraphobic by corpse husband

Wishes he knew more about music but whenever venti offers to teach him he gets all “an adeptus doesn’t need to know such things”

He only sings to venti and the traveler whenever he thinks they’re asleep or sings them to sleep but he has sUCH A NICE VOICE (orz kinsen) - traveler and venti team up to get him to sing more

scaramouche:

CHOKE ME LIKE YOU HATE ME BUT YOU LOVE ME

Corpse husband.

literally just loud music with heavy bass I can see scaramouche listening to that

blasts that shit at the zapolyarny palace so that everyone knows he's there

signora hates it - childe, not so much but finds it a bit annoying sometimes

This man cant sing, he refuses to and he refuses to play an instrument

NO WAIT HE LIKES TAKAYAN

Cheating is a crime by takayan is his anthem

aether:

He likes whatever reminds him most of home, whatever makes him nostalgic

butterfly by bts

Youth by troye sivan

how to save a life by the fray

Mr loverman by ricky montgomery?

yeah sad music, he doesn't know where his sister is, he wants to go home, of course he'd be sad

Aether likes troye sivan, he gives me that vibe

Ukulele boy aether :o

He used to play the ukulele and sing with lumine (luyin kana’s voice :”) )

abyss prince aether tho hmmm… might be a different story, i feel like he wouldnt be a ukulele boy but he would still listen to sad music me thinks

dainsleif:

He doesn’t listen to music

Knows about music, but doesn’t listen to it

They say long ago he used to sing a lot, rumour has it he was one of the best singers in Khaenri'ah, he doesnt sing anymore

Hears aether singing and gets sad about lumine (or vice versa)

[atarashii-gakko]

Natalie.mu interview

Part 4

SOME EXCERPTS

──I've heard a lot of overseas topics so far, but one of the big topics in the past year is to be in charge of choreography for Hey! Say! JUMP's "Negative Fighter" (single released in May 2021).

RIN: Actually, it feels like a part of LA life for us (laughs). Before I went to LA, I had Hey! Say! JUMP shake it off, and LA life started from there, and it was released in the middle of LA life.

MIZYU: Hey! Say! JUMP was out first job as a group of choreographers, and I was deeply moved. It seems that Hikaru Yaotome learned about Leaders on iTunes, watched all of our music videos, looked up Wikipedia, and probably also saw TikTok from there, and suggested us

SUZUKA: The choreography was made with TikTok in mind and with the catchiness that everyone can dance to.

──Speaking of TikTok, the number of followers on the Leaders account has increased dramatically over the past year (as of January 2022, about 3.4 million).

KANON: Originally, I felt like I could show a humane part that I didn't usually show.

MIZYU: It's been buzzing, and it's becoming more and more popular under the headline "TikTok's hottest new school leaders."

──Who is thinking about selecting songs for TikTok?

KANON: I am mainly in charge of selecting songs for Tik Tok, and I arrange songs that are popular in various countries in the leader's style and shoot videos.

──And the leaders who finished the domestic tour went to LA again and appeared at the festival "HEAD IN THE CLOUDS" sponsored by 88rising. We performed our first overseas concert.

RIN: At the two-day festival, we were the top batters on the main stage of the first day. Head of festival head. In the United States, there were few festivals during Corona, and 88rising hadn't done festivals for a while. The situation where everyone's expectations are rising. I went out to such a place, but the moment I heard the cheers, my heart got hot.

MIZYU: I had goose bumps because I hadn't been cheered because of corona for about two years. We are really unknown in America and I prepared to entertain people who didn't know us and leave impressions on them, but when we got on stage they sang our songs and raised their hands. I was surprised.

KANON: "Come to see us ...?"

MIZYU: It was early in the morning in Japan, but when I returned to the dressing room and did an egosearch, a domestic fan who was watching the delivery said, "I couldn't stop crying when I saw the cheering leaders." I was impressed to see it becoming known to the world in real time. " Seeing that, I was impressed again.

──Oh, Rich Brian is 88rising's signature rapper, but by the way, the leaders appeared a little in the music video of Rich Brian, Niki, and Warren Hue's song "California".

MIZYU: We only appear for 5 seconds, but we weren't mean to appear originally, we just wanted to say hello to Rich Brian and others who were shooting. I heard that the camera was spinning, so if I managed to charge in like a horse fight, it would be in the MV. Rich Brian listened to a new song and watched our video when we met for the first time.

SUZUKA: He came to see us on the rehearsal day also! On the day of the performance, I grabbed Rich Brian's ass for about 2 seconds with a greeting from the back.

KANON: Met Niki at "HEAD IN THE CLOUDS".

MIZYU: It was Princess.

SUZUKA: When I told him that it was wonderful, he said, "I saw you guys yesterday! You played drums." I also took a picture together.

What are your thoughts on the future? I'm also wondering what will happen to the musicality that has spread all at once in collaboration with Money Mark.

MIZYU: By living with Mark, we could make music, music was very free, and I thought that everything was an ant (?). That's why I started to want to make it with just four people, and I want to experiment more. On top of that, I would like to continue to interact with Mark, who has made a big difference in our lives.

KANON: I want to try new things besides songs, and I've already thought about it. It's full of things I'm really looking forward to.

RIN: "What will we do next?" When I talk about it, the tension rises too much, but I want to give shape to this excitement and deliver it to everyone as soon as possible.

[rel-ish]

bdg content that isn't unraveled

ALRIGHT

we all know and love polygon's unraveled series, but you know what else deserves attention? brian david gilbert's original content!! ive seen people recommend different shows and things that he's done replying to other posts but haven't seen a masterlist of everywhere you can find his stuff, so here it is (including links!) :

HIS PERSONAL CHANNEL

a collection of mostly short surreal humor videos with a couple series thrown in for spice.

my personal favorites: how to make jorts, the series Dances Moving (only a ~25 minute series but a true gesamtkunstwerk that will punch you in the gut), and Bri and Jo's Tryin' Show (aka what evolved into lmam a few years later. if you look in the descriptions after episode two, you'll find the link to the full streams!!)

LET'S MAKE A MUSIC

a wonderful series of 30-minute comedy podcasts where Brian, his sister Laura Kathryn Gilbert, and their roommate Jonah Scott take suggestions from twitter users and use them to a write a new song every week! they're currently on a hiatus (might be coming back at some point?) but there are 41 episodes to feed the content hunger

my personal favorite episodes: Thankstaking with Mr. Dad (2), Smooth as Wax (5), and Horsecar (34). find their music here on bandcamp where you can download the songs for $1 each or $5 for an album to support them

THE ALTOGETHER

a band consisting of bdg, Jonah Scott, and Jonah's sister Sierra. they recently leaked that they're releasing an LP soon and ive been thinking about it for days. find their music on youtube (linked above) or spotify. im listening to them while putting together this very long post

my personal favorite songs: Follow Through, Clean Slates State, and Let's Be Realistic. also every single other song

LESSER KNOWN POLYGON SHOWS

this is last because it's not necessarily his own content, but content that still deserves attention

Gill & Gilbert: a variety show (sort of) about video games (vaguely) where bdg and Patrick Gill play video games with weird challenges (like having to carry each other when they climb on a colossus in Shadow of the Colossus, or piling bananas on their shoulders while playing Donkey Kong). probably my favorite thing on youtube right now

my personal favorite episodes: the two I just mentioned and cucco nugget feast, though I would recommend watching this in order. they develop a lot of running jokes that are more way fun if you’ve seen it all

Week in Revue: I think one of the first things Brian did for polygon where he rapped/sang about video game news. like most polygon shows, it evolves into a psychological horror. this one I would recommend watching in order as well

Good Cheap Games: only four episodes long but very interesting videos mostly about his thoughts on indie games. a very weird experience as he is outside in one episode, a place I didnt know he was aware of. not listing favorites because there are only four episodes, watch them all

I think that's everything I know about but if you have anything else, please feel free to add on!

[musedblues]

Call It Fate Call It Karma

summary: In which your band gets signed to the same label as Queen, and Brian May takes a whole bunch of fun out of your new musical journey.

a/n: Here’s what to know… There’s an age gap! This takes place sometime in the 1980s and reader is in her twenty’s. There are also mentions of sex / sexual situations. (Not 18+ just be aware!) Here’s what’s been dubbed as The Bitchy Bri Fic! Title from this song!

w/c: 10k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everything changed as you’d started to lose hope. And you owed it all to Jim Beach.

It was the afternoon you and your bandmates managed to sneak past the receptionist desk at EMI and present the reel of tape you called you an EP to a bored producer called Watts; Jim Beach was already occupying his office. By then, you’d been to every other record label in the city and were prepared to be kicked out of this one all the same.

But then the producer agreed to listen to your tape. Watts sat with his feet on his desk and a glazed over look in his eye as two of your only three songs played. Jim spoke up from the back of the room when your third and final song started to crackle to life.

“Well, aren’t you going to give them a shot?” He asked, in a warm, gentle tone.

“What are you three called?” Watts asked.

“Loba.” Wilda piped up, picking her nails in place of her guitar.

“It means ‘she wolf’ in Spanish.” Joane pointed out, twisting strands of her pale fringe as she perched on the edge of the bench at your side.

“Can you lot throw together the couple hundred bucks it takes to record, by the end of next week?” The producer asked.

“Yes.” You spoke up, though you weren’t sure how you’d get the money, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Beach! Manage these lady wolves, will you?” Watts dragged his feet back to the floor with a thud.

“Me? I-I well,”

“You’ve got Queen, and who else? No one.” Watts exasperated. “McCartney has half our staff on lockdown this month and Iron Maiden has already gotten our three best workers to quit. You liked this mediocre garage rock well enough to say something…” The producer gathered your tape and tossed it to the manager with kind eyes and a smile under his furrowed brow. “Now everyone leave my office.”

You’d barely processed the life changing news as Jim turned toward you and your band with a grin that just kept growing.

“What do ya say, girls? Wanna make a record?”

///

You worked overtime and Joane got a second odd job to come up with the money to make a real-life record. And in a matter of a couple of months, you had an all new stage show, a new shiny Fender bass, and your very own album.

Well, almost. The record was in the final processes of being pressed. Watts helped put it together with his feet propped on the soundboard he manned. Past his usual cigar, he mumbled suggestions and even some encouragement; as you Wilda and Joane perfected the songs from your EP and threw together a couple more. Joane was praised for tightening her drum kit and bringing back up sticks. Wilda’s method of retuning her prized guitar worked without a hitch. You sang all your worries away with your bass playing in time. It was as easy as ever to work together, and one thousand times more terrifying all the same.

Jim lingered by on days like those, and on nights you’d booked gigs at local pubs and places of the like. On tea breaks, and in storage closets turned green rooms, Jim helped you and the girls make plans for the future. He carried around a pad of paper to jot down every time one of you thought up a new goal or two.

You went on and on about the sounds you heard in your head, and how you dreamed of bringing them to life. Of the words you longed to share with the world, and your favourite old tunes that never failed to inspire and excite.

Wilda dreamed of parties and people and places, the things she’d say on guest appearances and press tours. She dreamed of stages much more grandiose than the rickety old ones you were so familiar with now.

“We’d quite like to be as big as that other band of yours, one day.” Joane quipped, to a smiley Jim Beach. She was always going on about Queen. Bet she never dreamed of being graced with the assistance of her favourite band’s very own manager.

“No worries there.” Jim chuckled. “You ladies are a well-oiled machine compared to those four old bats. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow at the party.” He seemed to raise a brow like an omen but you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

///

Your first ever album had been slowly climbing the charts since it’s release at the start of the week. When your single aired for the first time, Joane parked her old beaten down truck outside of your flat and turned her car’s radio up all the way. You dismissed your neighbour’s pleas for peace and quiet by hopping in your drummers ride and speeding away to EMI, squealing along to your very own song the whole way there.

You met your guitarist outside of the company’s biggest office. Inside, the three of you hurried through a few pages of papers, and scribbled your signatures along odd dotted lines. Just like that, you were signed.

Even though Loba was gifted a bottle of champagne and a couple of snapshots to prove it, the label decided a proper party was in order to welcome you. Apparently, EMI liked to use every excuse they could to make use of their loft and it’s impressive bar top that wrapped around nearly every wall.

So no sooner than you’d shuffled into the head office, you were escorted out and up to the very top floor. The party, Jim said, was already in full swing.

And that’s when you met his other band. Though he never said so outright, you could tell Jim was most excited to introduce you to the only other group he’d had the pleasure of working with till now. Behind poorly placed streamers and the backs of people too busy carrying on conversations to notice you, there was Queen. All lazily huddled together against a spot at the long and winding bar.

When Jim made his presences known, you and the girls stopped in your tracks and traded a few nervous glances.

Freddie Mercury was all of a sudden shifting his weight before the lot of you, casting a sweeping gaze across each of your faces.

“Miami, are these the children you’ve adopted now that we’re all grown up?” Freddie asked, greeting the manager and turning his oxen eyes to your band. His champagne sloshed in the glass he held near his chest as he threw one arm around Jim’s shoulders.

“Awe, you talk about us?” You jabbed an elbow toward the manager though you couldn’t quite reach where he stood. As his grin only grew, the rest of the band shifted closer.

“Boys, meet the girls.” Jim smiled, introducing you each by name.

But you couldn’t be sure if Roger even heard the manager’s introduction. The blonde floated up to your guitarist like he’d been supernaturally dragged across the room to meet her. Wilda stood before him, trying desperately not to pick at her nails, and smiled. You wanted to laugh, but you wanted to hurl. It was just too much, the way Roger seemed to drool at the simple sight of her, like Pepe Le Pew.

“What are you lovely ladies called, again?” He asked in a voice just as rasped as you’d come to recognize over the radio. Wilda blanched and seemed to go shy all of a sudden, but you weren’t.

“Loba.” You shrugged speaking in the drummer’s direction.

“What?” John asked, stepping closer to the other side of you, standing taller than you expected him to be.

“It means she-wolf.” Joane piped up, reciting her favourite and well-practised line. It always saved her from going too quiet, that fact.

“Uh-huh.” Roger seemed to agree, shifting to stand at Wilda’s side instead of ogling her head on- holding her gaze all the same.

“Better than their almost name. Guess what it was, lads.” Jim raised a brow to Freddie. Oh no. With Joane likely having shut down at the mention of her old idea, and Wilda entirely preoccupied with whispering to Roger, everyone turned to glance at you- Left with no choice but to bury your embarrassment and answer.

“Doin’ Alright.” You admitted through a smile, because if you didn’t laugh, who would? It was your drummer, resident Queen fanatic’s idea, one you talked her out of shortly after joining.

“How bloody un-o-fucking-riginal,” Brain huffed and crossed his long arms over his chest.

You had barely officially met the guy. He loomed near the back of the gathering and stood in silence, till then. And you might have thought he’d only been joking if it wasn’t for the way his stoic expression remained unchanged when your eyes met his for the first ever time.

“Hate to break it to ya, but your name was already sort of taken, too.” You pointed out, giving a weak mocking curtsy at the vague mention of her majesty. Queen’s guitarist’s glare remained.

“Oh, I like this one. Good ear, Miami.” Freddie sauntered over and nudged you away from Brian’s burning gaze. Roger was pointing Wilda out to the balcony, where a rowdy group grew larger every time you glanced out beyond the open glass doors.

“Don’t mind him.” John cocked his head toward the sulking guitarist, and handed you a bubbly drink. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and a midlife crisis, it’s really quite the combination.”

“Poor thing.” You stuck your lip out on your turn in Brian’s direction, as Freddie yanked you toward the balcony, laughing all the while. The wild-haired guitarist watched you leave with an expression you couldn’t quite understand, though you wanted too.

But before the lot of you could spin your separate ways and dance until sunrise, one of the men from the head office stopped in front of everyone with a smile.

“Nice to see you’re all already so well acquainted.” He said, in a sickeningly posh tone. Roger draped an arm across Wilda’s slim shoulders as the rest of you hummed in agreeance.

“So how would you like to tour together, then?” The man grinned. Freddie flourished, making a grand gesture and saying something about how that was the best idea he’d ever heard in his life. Joane turned to you, not even attempting to hide her squeal of excitement. Jim shared a look with John, like a proud father.

“Good. Because that’s what the label wants.” The man nodded and turned to Jim with instructions to phone him to start planning. Freddie swept you away to kick off a night of fun, and when you turned to see if Brian cared at all, he was gone.

///

Your single topped the charts in the US. Jim came into your work, feigned an emergency and gathered the rest of your band to share the good news over a celebratory brunch. You might have won over the yanks, but Queen had stolen the hearts of billions long before you’d written your first tune. So it was naturally decided your band would open for the much more renowned group.

You turned your two weeks notice into your job, and blew your last paycheck on an all-new wardrobe. If you were going to prance around America with the likes of Queen, you had to look the part. Some platforms and a few dazzling dresses found their way into your suitcase a week before it was time to go.

By the time you met up with the other band at the airport, you knew Roger well enough to stick out your tongue as a greeting. He’d come around your flat once, trailing behind Wilda to crash a night out you’d been planning all week. And again to steal her away from your last band meeting. When you, Joane and Wilda sleepily trudged through the waiting gates, he stole your guitarist away for the third time, and you wondered what might become of them.

You were still dazzled by Freddie, charmed by his laugh and stunned when he insisted on sitting next to you on the plane ride over, to share gossip. All of his friends seemed just as taken with the ethereal singer, too. John sprung up from his catnap to go help Freddie find the best snacks the airport had to offer. And while Jim sat going over the schedule with Joane, Brian sat across from you with his arms crossed and his legs a mile apart.

“Are you excited?” You wondered because you really wanted to know if someone who’d done this a time or two was still thrilled by it. But mostly, you wanted to get the lanky guitarist to open up a little. If you were going to spend a whole month and a half near each other, wouldn’t it be nice to get to know the guy a little?

“I’m tired.” Brian nodded, his hazel eyes fluttering toward the windows.

“Lighten up Mr. May. You could have my job. Was just sent to phone Fred’s cats and we haven’t even left home.” A man as gangly as Brian shuffled to sit at your side, adjusting the sunglasses on his head that did little to hide his thinning hair.

“I’m Crystal, that’s Ratty.” The guy pointed across the lounge to another slim, long-haired fellow bent over an open acoustic guitar case.

“We’re everyone’s personal lackeys and will be glad to lend you ladies a hand all the same.”

You thanked the guy with a chuckle and felt charmed enough by his sudden kindness to admit your growing nerves. But then Freddie and John were back, and the plane was ready, and it was time to go on tour.

///

The first week flew by in a flash. You were jarred by the size of every new arena and crowd that filled the seats. You lost yourself entirely to the music that blared from the speakers at your band’s command; but never got used to hearing the songs you once plucked away at in your bedroom, fill stadiums.

Going from entertaining grotty pubs to seas full of people wasn’t something you ever expected to happen. The sound of their collective cheers directed to your band didn’t seem real. All you could do was play on, and sing with your friends until the time came to rush to another green room, catch your breath, and a glimpse of the headlining act.

You usually only saw Queen in passing- in revolving hotel doors or shuffling about the same backstage halls. If you weren’t on stage, your band was hauled off to radio stations for interviews while Queen partied on. And if your band had an afternoon to do as you pleased, Queen was off signing records and privately touring art museums.

But there were the rare occasions your paths crossed for longer than a minute or two. John would always make a point to ask after you, from time to time. He said you and the girls seemed to be handling the road like old champs.

“I’m too busy to be bothered with stage fright.” You laughed, when John asked how you looked so at home in front of the crowds that had started to sing along to the songs you played.

Where most of Queen felt like friends your parents warned against staying out past curfew with, John felt like your older brother; who waited up to sneak you back home with a kind word.

Freddie always invited you to the after parties and nights out, even when he knew Loba was meant to do a photoshoot one city away. And when you failed to show up, the singer would always say he’d missed you. And you believed him, because of the nights he’d sneak in your hotel room to share the last of the liquor that had knocked the rest of his bandmates cold. Freddie went out of his way to include you and the girls more often than not.

But Roger seemed to include himself in your groups circle any chance he could get. He trailed behind Wilda, sure, but he seemed genuinely fond of chatting away with you and Joane all the same. And when your guitarist and Queen’s drummer partook in their weekly game of playing hard to get, you were awarded tiny moments with just Roger.

Like the time everyone crashed before midnight, and the two of you stayed up by the quiet hotel poolside, with an acoustic. It wasn’t long before your goofing around turned into some kind of jam session, and you were writing a song together. Roger insisted you keep it to use, and left the cocktail napkin full of scribbled lyrics tucked between the strings of Wilda’s guitar that you’d been left in charge of.

Then, there was Brian.

He strolled ahead of you off of the riverboat where both of your groups had been invited to enjoy a day off, cruising around somewhere in America’s deep south. You couldn’t help but watch Brian’s figure move as it seemed to tower just over all the people at his side. It was time to head back to the hotel, or at least, time for your freshwater adventure to end. Everyone was glad for the easy-going ride, still tired from the night before.

Maybe that’s why he was so quiet all afternoon. Brian usually was, but there was something more to his silence today. And you didn’t know the guy well enough to figure, or dare ask why. The weather was nice, and Queen was received with reverence every place they went. Brian had no reason to sulk- none you could possibly understand.

A slew of people with cameras and questions flocked to the boat docks as the one and only Freddie led the way, pretending to introduce Crystal as some kind of rockstar in his own right. The roadie ate up the attention as Brian’s pace set your own. You couldn’t move until he did. And while he stalled, cameras flashed and a desperate middle-aged man held a skinny microphone toward the band.

“Brian, how are you finding America?” They asked in a mousy pitch.

“Oh, it’s lovely here, as always.” Brian politely grinned, curling his fists in his jacket pockets, from what you could see.

“How’s touring with another group? Queen usually don’t need the support of an opening act.”

“Right.” Brian seemed to agree in a curiously cynical tone.

“They’re called Loba, and we quite like having them around.” Roger was suddenly shaking your shoulders like an overzealous coach. You chuckled at his antics as Brian dared to glimpse at the commotion.

He turned his gaze over his shoulder to look at you for a moment. It might have been the most exciting part of your whole day, considering how Brian hardly ever looked your way till now. But why did it have to be like that? What did you ever do to the guy?

The best you’d ever gotten from Brian was an empty hum when asked if he cared if you sat in the only open seat at his side, during some dinner. And over that meal, he chattered away with the likes of his band, and even yours. And maybe it was because you became utterly paranoid by his silence to break it with all of the questions you had for the guy. But he never spoke to you. The seat at Brian side seemed a void in his peripheral. And you were growing a bit anxious by the thought of actually being invisible to Brian. So you started speaking up.

When Freddie asked you with help on matching one of his many jackets with a pair of trousers, you’d already made up your mind, but twisted around to ask what Brian thought. His brows upturned in a painfully confused expression as he hesitantly gave his answer to Freddie’s clothing debacle. You got your own answer too, that at least Brian heard a voice coming from the space you existed in.

When both tour buses stopped for gas one random midnight; Roger raced you into the convenience store and distracted you from buying anything in place of dancing to The Cars tune crackling from the overhead speakers. Your spontaneous party was broken up when Brian breezed by with his freshly purchased candy bar in hand.

“We are on a schedule you know?” He glared your way on his turn to leave.

“I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the dance party Bri.” You mused, stopping the guy in his tracks, who turned to look at you in the way he did. “We’ll let you sulk in the corner of our next one, since it would obviously kill you to actually join in the fun.”

But all that got you was a roll of Brian’s hazel eyes and a cackle from Roger. That was the norm. Brian either seemed to pretend you weren’t there, or traded you bone chilling glares like you’d wronged him in a past life. But you’d never known less of a person than you’d known of Brian May, and you were beginning to wonder if going about finding out more was worth it.

///

By the time your next soundcheck came, Queen had nothing better to do than bop about the stadium to wait their turn. You and the girls rushed through your usual set up but decided to change things around for your second to the last song. And while you started to unplug it was decided Joane would have to turn a certain drum fill into a solo while Wilda rushed off stage to retune her only electric guitar to properly close out the show.

Brian overheard, from the place he stood arguing over an amp with Ratty, who’d kindly agreed to stick close by your band during times like now. The roadie shuffled over to take your bass away, while Brian issued a complaint.

“You’re going to retune? Just use a bloody capo and don’t waste everyone’s time.” Brian shifted his weight, furrowing his brow your way. Though you weren’t the guitarist in question, you seemed to be the one and only person Brian felt most comfortable yapping at.

“There’s more than one way to do things, you know?” You pointed.

“Yeah,” Brian shrugged, agreeing with you in a breathtaking turn of events. But then again, not really… “The right way and the wrong way.”

“Christ no wonder you’re divorced.” You shook your head in the guy’s direction. His eyes might have been pretty if they weren’t burning into yours with such disdain. Then you both made a show of storming past each other. You were getting really sick of his attitude, and what it did to yours.

///

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no!” You cried, cradling your bass that had fallen from the stand to the concrete floor below. The neck was ever so slightly cracked and a tuning peg was bent and your heart was near stopping. When you looked up from the ground, you saw Ratty cursing out one of the stadiums impish young stagehands. The kid had blown an amp and sent it smoking, and your guitar flying off the stage in his rush to run from the trouble he’d stirred.

You clutched your one and only instrument to your chest and hurried away for help. Ratty was wrestling the broken amp, Crystal was nowhere to be seen, and John was off phoning home. You recalled the sights of the city from yesterday’s afternoon off. There was a guitar shop across from the Chinese place where you stopped for lunch.

So you raced past Joane and shouted that you’d be back in an hour. The exact amount of time you had until it was time to go on stage.

You ran down the city streets with your bass in your arms like a wounded child. The guitar shop appeared like a beacon.

Inside was blaring a song by Led Zeppelin you might have wanted to sing along too if your heart wasn’t in your throat. There was a mass of teenaged boys crowded the counter. You waited, held your breath and checked the clock as it ticked away at a frightening speed. By the time the boys buying strings and straps shuffled away, you threw your broken baby to the older man behind the counter. He assured you the fix would be a breeze and tried to sell you an overpriced Gibson while you waited. You stood drumming beats on the sales counter and tried not to scream when the clock showed you’d only had ten minutes left to waste. A couple more later, your bass was in your grasp. You threw an extra bit of cash to the guy and ran off in a flurry, praying to make it on time.

You’d never ran so fast, certainly. You didn’t even have time to apologize to a kid on a bike who had to swerve out of your way. You burst through the back doors of the stadium, much to the shock of the doorman. When he shouted at you to take it easy, you ceased running to walk as fast as you could toward the green room.

Brian was the first familiar face to greet you after the nerve-wracking scene.

“So nice of you to finally show up.” He let out a mocking cheer from the place he kicked back on a torn leather sofa. So relaxed in his gloom. Your heart used to ache at the thought of his troubles. At the sight of his far off gaze as his friends joked on around him. When Freddie would drunkenly whisper to you details of Brian’s trying year. But the guitarist’s sneers your way were getting old, and the ache in your heart for him was slowly growing cold.

Freddie spun to greet you, let out a sigh of relief like an anxious mother, reaching out to adjust your shirt collar skewed under the strap of your instrument.

“Well, my guitar had to get fixed one way or the other. And unlike you, your highness, we haven’t got a gaggle of roadies to call upon.” You swatted Freddie away and snapped toward Brian.

“No, but what’s ours is yours. Next time ask for help.” John spoke like a stern father, tossing you a bottle of water and pointing toward the clock on the wall. You had about a minute to run out on stage.

“Let her learn the hard way, Deacy. She seems to like it that way.” Brian rang. You dashed away before you had time to curse him.

“Brian, stop being such a bitch, I mean, my God.” Freddie whined as you stormed off, glad for once that someone else seemed fed up with the guitarist’s sharp tongue, too.

///

When the show was over, John insisted you hop along his band’s tour bus back to the hotel. The other two-thirds of your band were still enjoying the amenities of the afterparty, and you were in the middle of trading bass themed horror stories with Deacy. So he kept on talking as you walked to follow him, settling near the front of the ride as it travelled to your latest hotel.

As Queen shuffled to cross the bleak lot to get to the grandiose lodge, Brian was the last to leave. He shouldered past you with that same old sullen pout. His eyes caught yours for a moment before he took another step, but something about the usual interaction was the final straw for you.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You demanded to know, as Brian’s bandmates disappeared inside the hotel. Brian stalled reluctantly and turned to face you with pursed lips and the smallest shake of his head.

“Look,” He began, as you stood ready to get to the bottom of whatever this was. “I’ve really never meant to be so cross with you. And I’m sorry my temper’s been so easily getting the better of me. I am sorry.” Brian nodded. He looked exhausted, like this was the millionth time he’d had to give a similar speech, but he did so in such a genuine manner- that you could only stand and trade a perplexed gaze to the lanky guitarist.

“It’s… it’s best if we just keep to ourselves, yeah?” Brian concluded, turning away with one final nod. You didn’t get the chance to agree, or disagree, or understand what just happened before Brian was on his way, and you were on your own.

///

After the tour was said and done, a new year was just kicking off. And the label was pushing for another album right out the gate. You and the girls had two months to throw together a collection of new songs, and were struggling for most of the time to do just that.

The song Roger helped you write was the best one you had to offer, and Joane was nearly crippled under the stress of being creatively confined to a certain amount of time. You’d never had such a hard time working together before, and the pressure was building up between each of your bandmates in a way you were afraid of.

When Watts strolled in to take control of the soundboard you’d been fiddling with all morning, you couldn’t help but to warn him against changing any of your settings. You and the girls were finally making some kind of progress, albeit bickering along the way. Poor Jim could only sorrily sigh each time one of you turned and ask for his help. This bit of work was a little outside of the managers league.

And Watts only seemed to egg you on, pressing the few buttons you asked him not to.

“You want to control this soundboard so bad, have at it.” He stood in a huff, “I only strongly suggest you don’t fuck this up.” The producer hissed before slipping out of the door. He smiled a smile that made you queasy, and you nodded knowing full well you were on thin ice.

Jim left you and the girls to fight over tempos and key changes and came back from the studio’s kitchenette with an unexpected announcement.

“Brian is coming.” He said, matter of factly.

“What’d you call him for?” Joane groaned from the floor, where she laid fiddling with her kit.

“Because Queen is the best help I know. But Freddies in Barcelona, John’s with his family, Roger is MIA and Brian is right down the road. You lot have a day left, and I’m running out of helpful ideas. And quite frankly, you girls are in need of a lot of it.”

“Yeah, maybe, but now nothing will get done.” Joane countered. “Not with the way he and y/n square off like old alley cats.”

“He’ll be here in five. Come on lady wolves… Claws up, plugs in.” Jim pointed as he sat back down on the studio sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wilda shot into a speech, begging you over and over to keep it cool. The sooner you started, the better. She was right, and you wanted nothing more than to get this record finished. So with a nod, you accepted your fate.

Brian strolled in the studio right on time. His eyes looked desperate for sleep, and his already wild mane seemed even more unkempt. His small smile Jim’s way made you want to reach past the wall Brian put up, and shake his shoulders, and tell him it was okay to be actually happy once in a while.

Maybe it was the time that had passed since the tour. Maybe Brian forgot that he’d cared so little for you, and that’s why his faint grin lingered when his eyes met yours, past the glass of the recording booth. You willed your own weak smile his way, weary of this new civility, but just as tempted to take it in stride.

“Hello, ladies. Let’s see what you’re working with so far, shall we?” Brian leaned in and spoke just to you, it seemed. Maybe it was because you were closest, front and centre before the guy in a little glass box.

You’d felt more vulnerable than ever, under his forest coloured gaze. There was no place to run off and hide. You were right in Brian’s line of sight, right under his thumb, as he pressed a button stopped your band from playing to suggest a few dozen changes.

You knew he was here to help. And Jim looked so hopeful, tapping his foot to the beat in the corner of the room. So even though your throat was going dry as Brian settled his eyes on your bass- you played on. When he stopped you again, your blood began to boil.

“Please tell me you plan on adding a keyboard? A harmonica, something else?” Brian grimaced.

“We only play on the record what we can play on stage as a three-piece.” Joane raised a drumstick to make a point.

“Yeah well, it’s sure sounding that way.” The older and wiser musicians voice crackled through the speaker.

“Fuck you, that sounded good!” You hissed into the mic, wielding your bass like a weapon. That might'a been the best take you’d done all day.

“Yeah, but it didn’t sound great. If I turned my car radio on to that I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Joane, try using your snare on the bridge, instead of the cymbals. Y/n… from the top.” Brian sighed, sitting back in his chair like an exhausted parent.

You sighed too, adjusting your headphones and tossing Wilda a glare, a sign that you couldn’t keep your cool much longer.

You tried harder. But Brian kept stopping you. And every time he did, you couldn’t be stopped from cursing him just a little. If he’d only give you just one chance to find your rhythm, you might’ve made a whole record by now. When you told him as much, he let you play on for almost half a song before he’d stopped you again. When he did, you nearly exploded. But Joane snapped first. She got up from her kit, chucked her headphones, and stormed away. You slung your bass away to follow after her, but Wilda was quicker and raced out of the back to chase Joane down.

That left you with time enough to break out of the glass box and give Brian a few choice words.

“Way to fucking go, drill sergeant.” You gestured toward the guy who was slow to rise from his place before the soundboard.

“It’s not my fault she decided to-”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks for showing up and doing fuck all.”

“I came here to help you, and I could do if you’d stop acting like a damn child.” He pointed a finger your way, and the fire in his gaze sent a chill down your spine for the first time ever. You weren’t afraid of him. You were only stunned by the way he spoke to you. The way he always had. Why did Brian bother showing up here tonight?

“We might be able to take some of your suggestions if you stopped stopping us! Why don’t you just stick to pissing your own band off? You do it so well.”

You’d heard him trade sharper words with Queen. Roger told you that Brian was just working through some things. John said he’d always been like this. You just couldn’t understand why you got the worst of it.

“Well, it’s clear you’ve got more than enough hell to give your own group. You might sound less like the second place winners of your primary school’s talent show if you learned to stop making so many executive decisions.”

“I have a suggestion for you.” You decided, “Why don’t you take all your bleeding suggestions and fu-”

“Yeah, alright, let’s all take a break.” Jim intervened as you let out an exhausted sigh that doubled as a frustrated cry. The manager waved Brian over and the two men started to share a word as you stormed out of the back from fresh air and a clearer mind.

“He’s right you know. We sound like a washed-up wedding band.” Wilda shouted your way as she stayed leaning back against the hood of her car with a cigarette in hand.

“Where is Joane?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Wilda glanced at the empty parking spot where your drummer’s new mustang was earlier today. Great. Just what you needed.

“Right. Let’s forget everything, and finish. We’ll just… get it done.”

And so that’s what you did. Brian was gone when you ventured back in, and his absence left a familiar little ache in your heart. You didn’t like shouting at each other like cross siblings. You’d wanted to be his friend more than anything, at the start of all of this. The stars that might have aligned for that chance were all askew by now.

Jim left you and Wilda to go fetch some takeaway. Then he sat around the small table in the studio and shared dinner and some words of wisdom with the two of you. You thanked your manager for being so kind, and forgiving of your antics thus far. He chuckled and said something about having witnessed and dealt with much worse. Jim stayed a while longer, while you and Wilda worked together, and it was you who had to encourage the guy to go home and get some rest.

He entrusted the key to the place to you and your bandmate and left you to finish up for the evening. And you did, eventually. You and the eager guitarist listened back to the tapes and added in riffs and fills, and even a few of Brian’s suggestions; until well past midnight. But right on time for the label.

You could sleep soundly knowing you’d finished when you were meant to. But your dreams were full of worry that the record still wasn’t good enough.

///

“You did what?” Joane shrieked in the hall of your flat.

“We had to finish, Joane. You never came back, what else were supposed to do?” You yelled back, worry saturating your tone. It was far too early to be having this fight.

“You were supposed to wait for me!” Joane shouted, looking to you with big sad eyes. You rushed to remind her that you were out of time, and she could have shown back up and helped you finish, but she didn’t. And in her typical fashion, the drummer spun on her heels and stormed away, fringe flying far behind her shoulders as she shouted something about never coming back.

The girl had been known to fly off the handle on occasion. There was the time she drove your van away from a sketchy Welsh pub you travelled miles to play in, because Wilda called the drummers shoes ugly. Or the time she nearly chucked her cymbals from your third story flat window. You prayed that this episode was like the others you’d endured as you shut your door and rushed to get ready. It was time to take your record to the head office.

No one was particularly happy to find your three-piece only consisted of two when you showed up with Wilda to present your latest creation. Jim flashed a couple of smiles as the tracks played on, but all you noticed were Wilda’s shrugs. The record was done. But under unexpectedly trying circumstances and lacking a lot of help from your drummer. It wasn’t what you’d envisioned. The label still decided it was good enough, and sent you to fill a couple of talk show slots before the week was up.

You went with your guitarist to a couple of press junkets, and watched as your dazzling friend gave away answers she’d been practising since before you’d played your first gig. The only thing that made her umber eyes glow brighter was the sight of Roger Taylor waiting up after a certain interview. He invited her back to wherever it was he’d run off to, and Wilda had the decency to look toward you with a furrowed brow.

With a sigh, you agreed to handle the rest of the press on your own. Because she deserved to have the fun she’d been wishing for with the capricious drummer.

Four talk shows, three guest appearances, and one very hectic game show later, it was time for your record release. Roger phoned to assure he’d bring Wilda back in the nick of time. But Joane wasn’t answering her phone. You’d hoped after a bit of space that your drummer would come back around. But she wasn’t any place you’d gone to look. You spent until the witching hour driving to the places you knew she might have been and came up short.

When the time came to get ready for the party, half of your time getting ready was spent trying to hide the dark circles under your eyes. Before you left home, you took a couple of shots and prayed tonight wouldn’t crash and burn around you.

///

The mansion belonged to the head of the company, a place he’d invite people to when celebrations were too grandiose to fit in EMI’s loft. You wondered if you were the last to arrive when you opened the massive carved doors to find the stunning home littered with faces most of whom you didn’t recognize. One you did finally emerged from the crowd.

“Thank God you made it, I feared I’d have to put on a show instead.” Freddie chuckled, greeting you with glee. You ruffled the boa around his neck, thanked him for showing up, and wondered where you could find the drinks.

“I’ll take you round back dear, but you’d better hurry. The old important men are tired of waiting.” You could have explained how you’d waited up in hopes that Jonae would phone. And how when the phone did ring, it was Wilda worrying that she’d missed the only flight back home. But you only gave Freddie a sorry smile and spun into the garden. There was a bar in the veranda, where a handsome man made a show of mixing you a drink, making little passes along the way.

The time you thought you were stalling by answering all of the dude’s dumb questions was very soon interrupted. All of a sudden a towering guitarist was casting a shadow over you, and swiftly excusing the man behind the minibar.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up.” Brian rang in a mockingly sweet timbre. And as your stomach fluttered with nerves, you knew time was up. But how could you release a record without the rest of your band?

When you started to argue as much, Brian clamped his fingers around your arm like a vice and yanked you away from the bar and the drink you didn’t even get to try.

“Saving the day again, are you?” You rang dryly, as he towed you away. Brian’s face was set in its usual frown, one you’d become so familiar with that his smile on magazine covers made you look twice. He said nothing as he marched you out of the yard and into the mansion. You figured he’d part ways from you once you passed through the doors, but his grip didn’t loosen on the way down the empty marble hallway.

“Let me go.” You struggled, huffing out the words as you fought his grip and won. Before you had time to storm away, Brian spun to face you.

“Would you grow the fuck up? There is a room full of people depending on you and you’re acting like a fucking child, like always.”

“I’m not a child.” You hissed, curled your fists and glared up at Brian as he loomed over you. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His feet and fiery eye’s pointed to back you into the corner. But you wouldn’t let him get to you. “I’m trying my best it’s just not fucking good enough.”

A bit of a waver passed through your tone, as you targeted the words through your teeth. You watched Brian bend at the knee to look right in your eye, and pretended not to hold your breath.

“No, you aren’t.” Brian pointed a finger right at you and spoke in a low, unnerving rumble. “I’ve seen you at your best and I can guarantee you’re far from it, tonight.” He snarled, glaring you up and down with those dangerous hazel eyes. They raked over the span of your figure before landing on yours once more. “You look a bloody mess.”

“Because I’ve been running around till two in the damn morning, trying to find Joane! And when I couldn’t, I had to finish everything all on my own again. Because Roger took Wilda away and bought her nice pretty shoes and put her in good graces with all the higher-ups, and unlike her, I have to earn that shit myself.” You yelled, the dam holding back your bottled up emotion had crumbled in the overflow. You could feel the threat of tears stinging the backs of your eyes as Brian stood gaping at you in your outburst.

“So now I’ve lost my voice from all the interviews and the lack of sleep and I probably won’t be able to sing on tour to promote this shite album with a single you’ll switch off when it comes on the radio, anyway!”

And before you’d even stopped shouting, it seemed, Brian had his hands on either side of your face, and his lips pressed to yours. Your back was pushed to the wall and it took great effort not to melt down it with the way you were consumed by an all new kind of fire; mixed among the usual. But above it all, you were too shocked to kiss him back. Then you parted from each other, and past his unbuttoned top you watched the rise and fall of Brian’s chest while he caught his breath and stared at you.

“What the bloody hell was that?” You asked in a stunned hush. Brian blinked and shook his curls.

“I’m, I- I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“You think you can just kiss me and, I don’t know, that everything is just magically going to be okay?” You wondered in a fluster, knowing there was nothing that could be done about the blush burning your cheeks. After months of frowning every time the two of you passed each other he kisses you?

“No. No I- I’ve always wanted to kiss you and I just thought I knew better than to do it.”  Brian held up a hand like he was swearing not to come closer. Talk about some seriously mixed messages.

“What?” You asked in an embarrassingly high squeak.

“I wanted to kiss you before I even knew your name. And it just seemed like the entirely wrong thing to do. So I shut you out, and my ire kept getting the better of me, and that’s not an excuse, just the truth,” Brian sighed, at what seemed like a sudden loss for words as his eyes searched yours.

“Well, you’ve gone and done it now.” You pointed out with the faintest laugh despite everything. Brian shook his head, asking, in a way, to understand what you were on about.

So you shook your head too, and latched onto his loose collar. You yanked Brian closer because you weren’t angry. You were actually feeling fine all of a sudden about everything. Only sure that you had to kiss him again good and proper. It was your first kiss with him, really, as your mouths moved together. Brian’s fingers were wrapped around your arm again, less claw-like than moments ago. And he didn’t seem too keen to break away from pushing you a little closer to the wall, a second time around.

But just as you lost yourself to the feeling of Brian’s frame moulded against your own, your name was hollered from somewhere down the hall. Music grew louder over the speakers that reached out to the sparsely decorated hall. Brian let you go, and you released your latch on his shirt to wipe your lips in a hurry.

But before you could scurry away, you watched Brian watch you prepare to bolt, and couldn’t help the small smile blooming across your face. He smiled, too.

You looked a mess. You were a mess. And you might’ve been one step away from fucking this whole thing up. But for the first time all year, you accepted it.

///

Your second record, somehow, was praised by the label and adored by the steadily growing following you’d gained. The old burnt out hippie man who ran your home town record store stood from his torn leather stool and applauded you, the day you came in to buy the Talking Heads new record.

“You’re really finding your sound, man.” The old hippie grinned. You told him to sit back down and thanked him despite your embarrassment. He asked you to autograph the cash box and gave you a discount on the album you bought.

After your single reached the top five in the charts, you talked Joane back around. It wasn’t easy. You had to promise you’d keep a cooler head, and she did too. She started stopping over every Sunday with a book of songs for you to think up a tune to, and turned the radio up every time one of your hits came on air. You laughed when she danced around your coffee table like it was the first time she was hearing your band name on the lips of a local dj.

Wilda cut all her hair off and wore the shoes Roger bought her everywhere. She talked about him after every breath, but you knew she hadn’t talked to him in months. Queen were busy planning a tour of Europe and trying to save the families that hadn’t already slipped through the cracks at the homes they bought but hardly visited.

You knew because you called Freddie to ask after Brian.

“Why are you asking about Brian?” You could hear the smile in Freddie’s voice, after he’d finished gabbing about the others.

“I want to know how all you boys are, naturally.” You panicked, realizing how lame your excuse was as you spoke it into the receiver. Freddie only hummed after a beat, and let another silence linger before speaking up again.

“I know you both secretly care for each other. Just give him time love, he’ll come around.” Freddie chirped before giving you a sweet farewell and hanging up.

Throughout your ever-changing year, Freddie had been more than kind to you. He’d become your friend. He gave away secrets like a kid at a slumber party. And when Brian came up in his conversation, Freddie always got serious. When the singer told you about the rough year Brian had been through, and the state of his well being, Freddie seemed to look at you with all of the seriousness in the world. Like he was desperate for you to understand. Did he know you were desperate to understand? Did he know Brian kissed you?

You could have phoned Brian. But you were too busy secretly hoping he’d ring you.

///

Your only notable call came from Jim, who gently nudged you to agree to being Queen’s opening act, once again.

“It’s what the fans want, according to the label. It’s what the label wants.” Jim explained, in the soft, kind, way that protected the guy from ever receiving a glare or harsh word from you, or Brian, you realized.

“We’ll do it, if the royal court isn’t up in arms.”

“Freddie said, and I quote, 'Beg her on my behalf and tell her I’ll fly home from Barcelona to do it myself if she even thinks of saying no.’”

So you called your band, packed a bag and showed up to the airport at five in the bloody morning with a smile on your face.

And then you were off. For the first week, a local band had been chosen from each new city, to open for Loba. By the time you, Wilda, and Joane took the stage, each audience of what seemed like billions were more electric than the last. You’d never had more fun, jumping around to the music you’d worked your ass off to create with the girls. You each ran off stage, changed in a flurry and ran back to the sidelines to watch Queen light up the black ink night. And like the last time, that was about the only time you’d see much of them- till one show got delayed when a wicked storm showed no signs of passing.

Roger took Wilda to dinner, and she followed his burning trail after about a minute of pretending she wasn’t at all interested. Joane made a speech about everyone catching up one sleep, before she crashed in your bed with her shoes still on. After unlacing her heavy boots and tossing them aside, you went to find your favourite band of boys gathering in the lobby with plans to go out.

“Now the party can really start.” Crystal grinned, reaching to wrap a strong arm around your neck as he pulled you to follow the gang to the limo in waiting. You broke loose of the roadies hold and shoved him into the back of the car before crouching in yourself.

A couple of girls you’d never met sat on either side of Freddie, and cast their doe eyes to John who scooted over to make room for you. And holding the bassist’s attention was Brian, who had yet to look your way all week. Ah, just like old times. You both had been busy. But you couldn’t stop from wondering if there was something more to it…

Had you upset Brian beyond your wildest dreams, when you kissed? Did he smile at you after it happened in the way people who were so angry did, that their furry appeared in a mask of calm?

Or… did you finally get him to shut up for good? Did he realize how unremarkable you were? That you weren’t even good enough to bicker with any longer? Pushing his buttons was one thing. But you always hated the times you and Brian paired harsh words with those deadly glares. Now that you were getting the silent treatment though, you’d take his arguing with you with a relieved smile.

Freddie pulled you along into a club adorned in sickening green uplighting. The purple-tinted insides held a crowded bar and a dance floor where patrons overflowed toward the restrooms. Some tune by The Velvet Underground was pulsing through the speakers as Freddie spun you around, dancing you both closer to the mass of people doing the same.

You noticed members of your group beginning to lose themselves in the crowd when you decided a drink was in order. The bar was packed, so much so that you nearly couldn’t turn to see who you’d wedged yourself against until you felt him tense up.

Brian kept his eyes on the wall decorated with drink options and dared not move as you shifted to notice him. His hip jabbed into your side, his white knuckles rested on the ledge of the bar brushed against your arm as he drew his hands together.

“Aren’t we going to talk about it?” You asked all of a sudden. If it were up to you, you would have cornered Brian like he’d cornered you, that night. But the tour had been so busy, and this was the closest you’d been since the night he pushed you against the wall… And you couldn’t take it anymore.

Still, Brian kept his eyes pointed front and said nothing.

“You kissed me first, ya know?” You spoke plainly, desperate for a response.

The barman shoved a tall drink toward Brian’s chest just then, at the same time Freddie reached past a few strangers to yank his guitarist toward the dance floor. As he was pulled away, Brian’s eyes swept over yours, and they were prettier than ever.

///

You’d nearly forgotten all your troubles that weekend, as everyone rushed to make up the cancelled show with two in a row, and one another city away with no time to sleep, not really.

After a montage of screaming crowds, ringing guitars, and squirming in and out of too-tight clothes, a three day break awaited the lot of you at long last. You trekked behind familiar faces down a lime green hotel hall, and dreamed of sleeping until you were good and ready to wake up.

Freddie waved as he twirled into his room, and Roger followed Wilda all the way down the hall. And while you watched your feet move toward your room number a few dozen doors away, you were stopped in your tracks.

You grinned when you recognized the feeling of the fingers around your arm, and the way Brian dragged you in his tow. You didn’t have far to go, just behind the door he was already closing in one swift move…

And in a flash, the door was shut and he was kissing you like how he did before, without a word, all of a sudden. Like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You kissed him right back, like you’d been dreaming of doing since you knew how nice it was.

And then you shoved him away. Because you wanted this, but not like last time.

“You’re not going to leave me in the quiet after tonight are you? I might at least be able to stand the radio silence if I knew what it was all about.” You searched Brian’s face in the dark. All the while, you kept ahold of his shirt sleeves and slowly found your way to his haphazardly made hotel bed.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” You couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d treated you with all the interest of a passive-aggressive house cat since the day you met. Brian went quiet as you guided him to sit on the mattress, leary to close the space between you until he spoke up again. Though his long fingers fell feather-light against your hips, you only kept yours on his shoulders and held his gaze, silently hoping he’d speak up again.

“Of how desperately I’ve always wanted you.” He whispered while his fingers curled to grip you the slightest bit closer. “There were about one thousand reasons I was afraid of ever kissing you, and they all seemed even scarier after I did.”

Brian let his eyes rake up your figure before meeting your own. His lips were close enough to brush yours now. It made such sense, now. All those looks weren’t really glares. All those bitter words weren’t so malice. The tension that lied between you and Brian was all to do with how badly you’d wanted to be this close all along.

Maybe he was afraid to cross that line, because of all the love he’d so recently lost. Or maybe it was because of how young and dumb you really were. And maybe it was because of something you wouldn’t come to find out for a while, yet. You decided there wasn’t time to worry over why, tonight. That could come later.

“I hope you realise now, there’s nothing to fear.” You wrapped a hand around Brian’s neck and watched his eyes search yours in the dark. Then he nodded, softly bumping his head against yours. He pulled you closer between his legs and kissed you. You pushed him to lay down and started on your mission to show Brian just how fond of him you really were.

“I’m still pissed that we could have been doing this ages ago.” You breathed a laugh as Brian’s teeth grazed your neck.

“Never could handle not getting your way, could you?” He hummed against the skin you’d started to expose.

“I mean it.” You chuckled, tugging at a few of Brian’s highlighted curls. His head lulled until he was looking at you again. Brian stayed perfectly fitted against you while his eyes peered into yours. You recognized the uncertain look on his face, but it was different than before. Softer. Sadder, maybe. 

“You really want this?” He asked in a soft timbre.

“Yes.” You nodded, tracing the length of his nose just because. A bit of quiet lingered after your assurance.

“But do you want me?” Brian asked in a hush. His sweet voice saturated in a worry you didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah,” You nodded again, searching his pretty hazel eyes as you placed both of your hands on the sides of his lovely face. “I want you Bri.”

The kiss you shared then was one that meant more than you knew a kiss could. There was something about Brian, a part of him you’d always longed to know. You felt closer than ever to that side of the guitarist now, when he deepened the kiss, and you felt him smile.

///

You woke up with a song in your head.  A melody left over from a dream. But instead of rushing to find a pen and paper, you rolled over to covet the warmth of your unexpected company.

Brian draped an arm across your middle and hummed in delight when you nuzzled closer. You stayed like that, perfectly content in the tangled up sheets, watching the patterns of the sun through the window on their slow shift across the room.

“We’re going to have to leave this bed at some point you know?” You sat up a little after dozing off for the third time in a row. Brian stayed happily tucked close to your side. “And someone is more than likely going to figure this out.”

“That’s fine by me.” Brian shrugged, peering up to you from the pillows you leaned against.

“We’re supposed to hate each other.” You reminded through a sleepy chuckle. Brian only grinned and blinked, conjuring up a thought.

“I never hated you. I might always be sorry for picking such fights. I did always want the best for you, I just had a nasty way saying so.” Brian murmured thoughtfully.

He caught your eye once more and the corners of his mouth turned up when he looked to find you were already staring at him, trying to memorize the perfect outline of his profile against the bright sunlight. You inched lower to meet his gaze, and said,

“I think we might’ve finally figured out what’s best for both of us.”

And the way Brian looked at you then sent a chill down your spine that raced back up and shot through your heart in one go.

“S'Just, sometimes you’re a real bitch.” You joked to fight the way your heart was beginning to beat like a drum. Because you weren’t quite brave enough to fall all the way in love yet. But you decided just as quickly that Brian was probably worth falling for.

“I know. And sometimes you’re fucking unbearable.” He countered with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You noted with a laugh. You had it real bad for this guy. And that kind of scared the shit out of you. How could this have happened so quickly? How had you failed to see it coming? What if it was over no sooner than it began?

“But…” The only thing that broke through your hesitancy was Brian’s long fingers slowly trailing across your jaw.  "Do you want me?“ You echoed his statement from the night before, in a hush. You’d only just realized the depth in asking so.

"Yeah.” Brian said, wrapping a lean arm snug around your middle without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you.”

And he said so like he was trying to encapsulate all the things that made you whole and wonderful and unbearable all at once. And even then, you giggled before leaning in for a kiss.

You spent the rest of what was left of that morning doing all the things you’d done the night before. And when you decided to finally get dressed, you and Brian hopped into your clothes while squabbling over what and when to tell your friends.

You hoped you’d get to hear his maddening whinging on for the rest of forever. Because if it ever became too much, at least you’d finally discovered some pretty effective ways to shut each other up.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[freddiesaysalright]

Just Like a Woman - Part 5

A Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 4.9k (a lot needed to happen im sorry)

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @lizawritesthings, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace​, @itsabenthing​, @bookandband​, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife​, @grazessa​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Will things finally turn around for Y/N and Roger?

Warning(s): None :)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Part 5 here we go!!!

“He said that?!” Roger questioned, incredulous. 

“Yeah,” you sniffled. “Fucking prick.”

You sat together in the booth at the studio. Roger was making you a cup of tea. You told him everything you discussed at the therapist’s office and the things Mark said to you. He let you cry on his shoulder at the start before getting up for the tea for the finale. Now, as he handed it to you, his eyes were narrowed with confusion and hurt for you.

“That really is an awful thing to say,” he agreed. “I mean, it’s one thing to say he doesn’t feel like he can be with you but to say that love is wasted on you….first of all, it’s not true. Second of all, it’s vicious. He was trying to hurt you.”

“Maybe I deserved it,” you said, looking away. “I haven’t been the best girlfriend to him. I’ve been afraid and hesitant and….I know I’ve hurt him.”

“Doesn’t give him the right to say something like that,” Roger argued. “And you didn’t hurt him intentionally.”

“That’s true,” you conceded.

“Besides, you’re an incredible person,” he went on. “Love isn’t wasted on you. I don’t think love is wasted on anybody really, but least of all you.”

You forced a smile. “Thanks.”

He sipped his tea and looked at you. You simply stared at yours, eyes fixed on the steam rising out of the cup. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “You’re hurting and it’s not fair. And it’s partly my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Rog,” you replied softly. “I wouldn’t take back a single moment with you. Not for anyone or anything.”

He paused at that, taking it in. A part of him had always wondered if you regretted being with him after the way he hurt you. It was a relief to know you didn’t. 

“Me neither,” he said.

Another beat passed. He watched you drum your fingers against your mug. Then he got an idea.

“I know what’ll cheer you up,” he said, offering his hand. “Come with me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Where?”

“We’re not leaving the building, we’re just going to the keyboard,” he said.

“Okay…” you agreed hesitantly.

He helped you off the couch and led you into the studio. Holding Roger’s hand felt familiar, but in that odd way where you think it was something you must have dreamed. You reached the keyboard and sat down beside him. You both placed your beverages on the table to the side.

“I might be rusty, so apologies in advance,” he said.

You nodded. Then, he began to play an old, familiar tune.

“Lida Rose, I’m home again, Rose,” he began to sing. “To get the sun back in the sky. Lida Rose, I’m home again, Rose. About a thousand kisses shy…”

You nearly started crying again. The Music Man was your father’s absolute favorite, and he had taught you and Roger almost every song from it. There were enough duets for you two and it was fun to play and sing together. As Roger sang through the first part, your eyes watered. He looked at you and smiled gently.

“So here is my love song, Not fancy or fine, Lida Rose, oh won’t you be mine? Lida Rose, Oh, Lida Rose, Oh…”

He finished, picked up the tempo and looped back around. He began again, and this time you joined him. 

“Dream of now,” you sang shakily. “Dream of then. Dream of a love song, That might have been. Do I love you? Oh, yes, I love you. And I’ll bravely tell you. But only when we dream again….”

As the song progressed, you and Roger’s smiles widened as you held each other’s gaze. You were back in your parents’ living room, just barely teenagers and singing together while your father watched you behind a cup of tea and a cigar. 

“Forever. Oh, yes, forever. Will I ever tell you? Oh, no…”

“Lida Rose, Oh, Lida Rose, Oh…”

You each finished your parts. A real, genuine smile claimed your lips now as you looked at him. Then you heaved a sigh and rested your head on his shoulder. You fit there like a missing puzzle piece. It hit him all at once just how much he had been missing it.

“Thank you, Roger,” you said. “You always did know how to cheer me up.”

“Well, it’s always been that song, how could I forget?” he joked.

You hummed lightly. “You’re not rusty, you know. I don’t think you missed a note.”

“Do you sing The Music Man much anymore?” he wondered.

“No,” you said wistfully. “Not since Dad died.”

“Well, you haven’t lost your touch either,” he returned.

Your forehead was so close to his lips. He ached to kiss it. To feel your familiar skin against his mouth again. You always said forehead kisses were your favorite because they made you feel safe. Roger didn’t admit it, but they were his favorite too because they made him feel like he could take care of you. Now, he once again felt the sharp pang of regret that he hadn’t. To ease his own heart, he prepared to take the risk and kiss you.

But you sat up. 

He bit back a frustrated groan.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said to you outside the bar,” you said, still looking at the keyboard. “It was harsh.”

“It was true,” he said. “I understand you were feeling hurt. I just wish you’d let me explain.”

“Can I explain first?” you asked, looking at him now.

“Sure,” he allowed.

“I was so upset because when you told me you’d met Dominique so soon after we broke up, it made me feel like you lied to me when you left,” you said. “It wasn’t that you didn’t want to settle down. You didn’t want to settle down with me.”

“That wasn’t the case,” he said. “Like I told you, Dom and I weren’t anything close to what you and I were. We started off as a one night thing. We tried being together, but we broke up a hundred times. We got married on a whim sort of. We decided we wanted to have a family, so...you get it.”

“She told me that…” you trailed off, not really sure you wanted to confess this to him.

“What?” he pressed. “What did she tell you?”

“She told me that you never stopped loving me,” you admitted. You looked away from him again. “But I didn’t believe her.”

He opened his mouth to reply and closed it again. What he felt during his time without you was so complex, he hardly understood it himself. He missed you. Terribly, at first. But then, he really did fuck around and do whatever he wated. He had fun. But he still missed you. He met Dom, and she sort of took your place, but she wasn’t you. No one could ever be what you were to him.

“She’s partly right,” he said. “I always remembered you and thought of you. I had love for you throughout everything. And I always will.”

“Well, I hope you got everything you wanted,” you scoffed. “And you're satisfied with your exploration.”

“Yeah, I got it all out, I suppose,” he said. “I mean, I’ll never lose the thrill of performing, but when it comes to women…”

“Roger, can I ask you something?” you put forth. “And I want you to be totally honest.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said nervously.

“When you got through those feelings,” you said. “Why didn’t you -”

You didn’t get to finish your question. At that moment, the door opened and Freddie, Brian, and John walked in. They all seemed struck by your presence.

“Well, Roger, we wondered why you never showed up to lunch, but it appears we have our answer,” John said. “Hi, Y/N.”

You beamed at them. It had been so long, and they all looked so different now. But also much the same, especially their faces.

“Hi, guys,” you returned, getting to your feet.

Freddie approached you first. He wrapped you up in his arms as you laughed, embracing him in return.

“What brings you here, darling?” he asked. As he pulled away, he glanced over you. “What a gorgeous thing you’ve grown up to be!”

“Thanks, Fred,” you returned with a laugh. “I actually didn’t intend on coming here, I just...well, I split up with my boyfriend and on my way back to work I - quite literally - ran into Roger.” 

You hugged Brian and John as well, exchanging pleasantries. All the while, Roger’s leg bounced with anticipation. He had no idea what you were going to ask him, and he desperately wanted to give you any answers he was capable of giving. 

“I really should be going,” you said. “I’ve got a lot of work to do for Miss Thomas’s case. Mr. Broome is in court tomorrow for his annulment and I need to be prepared.”

Roger jumped up. 

“Wait, Y/N, you had something you wanted to ask me,” he said.

“We’ll talk more later, okay?” you returned.

“Okay, sure,” he said reluctantly.

You walked back over to him. His eyes were intense and longing. You were sure yours were the same. Then, you stood up on your toes, your body against his, your hands on his shoulders, and you kissed him on the cheek. His skin was warm and soft. He still smelled like he used to, only with a hint of more cigarettes. You heard him inhale deeply. His hands moved to your hips. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. You moved away, he helped steady you as you came back down on your heels. Then you locked eyes with him again.

“Thank you,” you said.

He could only nod. His heart was beating so wildly at you being close to him again. He watched you hopelessly as you grabbed your purse and coat. You waved to the guys, shared one last meaningful look with him, and then you were gone.

“Geez, Rog, what was all that about?” Brian wondered.

“Her boyfriend broke up with her because of me,” Roger answered. “We got to talking and now I….” he trailed off.

“Start from the beginning,” said John.

Roger told them. About your fight at the bar. He conveyed what he remembered you told the therapist and then what Mark said to you. They were all as disturbed by it as he was. Then he told them everything the two of you said to each other.

“Roger, this is getting complicated,” Brian said. “The two of you just need to sit down and have it all out.”

“I’d like to, but things keep getting in the way,” Roger said. “Her work or mine. Some distraction or another. We’re never together long enough to get it all out there.”

“Make time, dear,” Freddie said gently. “Ask her to dinner.”

“I dunno if we should be out in public,” Roger said. “It could get quite emotional.”

“Then have her at yours,” John said. “But you can’t go on like this, you’ll both go mad.”

Roger considered this. “That’s a good idea, Deaky. Only, Dominique still lives there.”

“I’ll have Veronica invite her to our place for the evening,” John offered.

“If she doesn’t go, it’s a large house, she can be out of your way,” Brian added. 

“But something needs to be done,” Freddie finished.

“Why are you all so adamant that I do this?” Roger wondered, looking around at them.

“Because ever since you’ve seen her again, you’ve been a bit of a dope,” John said with brutal honesty. “We think if you knew where you stood with her, you’d be yourself again. Only happier, maybe.”

“I’d definitely be happier,” Roger admitted. “Even if we were just friends again.”

“That’s a good sign, love,” Freddie said. “We all miss her. It’s natural that you would miss her most.”

“Well, it’s settled, then,” Roger said. “I’ll speak to her soon.”

“Do,” Freddie said. “You’ll be better for it.” 

That afternoon, you were grateful to get back to work. You were in court with Miss Thomas, and it was a welcome distraction from all thoughts of Mark. And of Roger. Especially Roger. There was still so much going unsaid between you and it was starting to drive you crazy. But without Mark in the picture, you felt more justified in exploring it. 

The judge dismissed Miss Thomas’s case, as you predicted, and you apologized to her. She promised to return to you for any future lawsuits, since you were the only lawyer who took her case in the first place. You weren’t sure if you were pleased or not. For Bill’s sake, you were because it meant more money. For your own, you were worried this meant more ridiculous suits based on penile psychic abilities and you didn’t want to keep losing. 

When you returned to your office from court, you got to work more on researching for Mr. Broome. Things were strictly business between you now that he thought you were a lesbian. Or at least participated in lesbian activity. In truth, you had never kissed another woman before, but there was no way you were going to admit it to Mr. Broome. 

As much as you looked at your law books, your mind kept going back to Roger. Your short duet with him was affecting you much more than your breakup with Mark. It made you wonder if maybe Mark was right. Was there no other man for you besides Roger Taylor? It seemed so illogical. Most people did not end up with their first boyfriend. Why were you so hung up on yours? 

The day wore on. Your office grew dark with the disappearing sunlight, but you had a few more things to wrap up before going down to the bar. You had already released Jane when you heard a knock on your door. You looked up eagerly, hoping Roger would be standing there. Only, it was Mark. You frowned. 

“What do you want?” you asked shortly. 

“Can we talk?” he wondered. “I want to apologize for what I said this morning.”

“Well, Mark, I don’t think I’m ready to accept that apology,” you returned, snapping your file shut and getting up from your chair. “I wasn’t lying when I said that was the cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me. And I know you meant it.”

“I didn’t mean it like you think I did,” he said. “It was the heat of the moment and I was angry. I wanted to hurt you.”

“If you expect kudos for admitting the obvious, you’ve come to the wrong person,” you said. “I know you wanted to hurt me. And mission accomplished.”

“I’m just saying that I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d like to try again.” 

“I’m not interested,” you replied. “The truth of the matter is, Mark, that you don’t love me. You don’t say things like that to people you truly love. You loved the idea of who I might be. I checked off boxes for qualities you’d like in a wife. But you don’t really know me. I think that if you did, you wouldn’t even like me.” 

“That’s not true,” he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. 

“You like me on paper,” you said. “I’m smart, successful, and attractive. But on the inside, I’m a mess. A mess that very few people could ever hope to understand. And you’re just not one of them.” 

“So, that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

You almost laughed. 

“Y’know it’s funny how every man who hurts me tells me I’m the one giving up,” you scoffed. “This time, it’s true. At the risk of sounding cold, it’s not worth the effort. I don’t love you, Mark. And I never will. I’m sorry.” 

“Well, if you’ve decided…” he trailed off. “I really am sorry for what I said. I wish I could take it back.”

“I’m glad you can’t,” you said. “I wish you well. But this is goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said. 

“Goodbye.”

With one last look, he left your office. You meant everything you said to him. You just didn’t feel about Mark what you had felt for Roger. With a sigh, you began to pack up your briefcase. You had to be in court again the next day, and you wanted to be extra prepared for Mr. Broome’s case. You heard another soft knock on your door, and your head snapped up as you prepared to dismiss Mark again. 

Only it wasn’t Mark. 

“Mum?!” you cried, stunned. “You weren’t supposed to get here until Friday!”

“Well, I thought I’d come a bit early and surprise you!” she returned, laughter in her eyes. “And you should see your face!” 

You chuckled. “Come here!”

You went to her and embraced her warmly. It must have been her motherly instincts telling her you needed her because she was right on time. In fact, you had been considering skipping the bar and calling her. 

“How are you, dear?” she asked, pulling away and looking you over. “You look thin. Are you eating enough?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m eating fine, Mum. Although I haven’t had much today, it’s been a rather emotional time.”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?” 

“Why don’t you come down to the bar with me?” you offered. “You can meet all my friends and coworkers. And I’ll catch you up. You aren’t going to believe who one of my clients is.” 

She raised an eyebrow, smirked, and took your hand. Together you walked to the bar. 

You mother was stoked to meet your coworkers and see more of your life in London. Usually, you were the one visiting her, but you hadn’t been home since your father’s funeral. It was painful to think about. So, you invited her to see your life. She agreed rather enthusiastically, so you guessed she needed to get away as well. Now that she had done her grieving, it was the perfect time. 

She danced with Bill, who flirted shamelessly with her. He had a thing for older women. You giggled watching her flush at his praise. She deserved to feel that way again after losing your dad, and you knew he’d be happy she was having fun. You could imagine what he’d say. 

Well, he has good taste, doesn’t he?

You shook your head, clearing your father’s voice out of it. You found yourself thinking of him more often now that Roger was back in your life. Especially since you knew he named his son after your dad. Your father would have been so bashfully honored by that. It made your heart ache to remember he never would know that honor. 

Your mother returned to her seat beside you. 

“I don’t think I’ve danced like that since before your father died,” she giggled, grinning. 

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” you told her. 

“Now, catch me up, sweetheart,” she said. “Who’s this new client? And when am I going to meet this Mark you’ve told me about?”

“Oh, about that,” you said. 

You launched into the story. You told her about Roger, Mark, and everything that had happened since that fateful day you’d seen your old friend in that conference room. You left out the bit about kissing Dominique, though, since you weren’t trying to make her faint. She listened thoughtfully, taking in your every word. 

“I see,” she said when you finished. “Well, I’m thrilled that you’re seeing Roger again, I must say!”

“I’m not seeing Roger, Mum, I’m representing him in his divorce,” you reminded her. “I just...I feel strange about it. All these old feelings…”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” she said. “You two meant a great deal to each other.” 

“But it was so long ago,” you argued. “Shouldn’t we have moved on?”

“Well if you have to ask that question, I think you know the answer,” she said. 

Your eyes went wide as you looked at her. She winked and sipped her drink. 

You didn’t talk about Roger much for the rest of the time you were at the bar. When you got home, though, she brought him up again. 

“Darling, why not be with Roger again?” she asked. “He’s soon to be divorced, you’re single now. What’s stopping you?” 

“Mum, the reason he left me was because I wasn’t enough for him,” you reminded her. “How can I trust that I will be now?”

“Because time has passed,” she said. “He’s grown up. So have you. He’s gotten it out of his system.”

“No he hasn’t, he cheated on his wife,” you said. 

“Well, she isn’t you,” she said simply. 

“It’s different,” you said. “Part of me is still angry at him. How do we come back from what we went through?”

Your mother paused a moment. You watched her, patiently waiting for her to answer. Her expression hardened, as if trying to hold back emotion. You shot her a worried look. 

“When you were little,” she began. “Maybe seven or eight, you father had an affair with his secretary.”

A wave of shock almost knocked you off your feet. 

“What?” you gasped. 

“I didn’t want to tell you this because I don’t want you to think of your father any differently, but I think you could learn from it,” she said. “So yes. He began seeing her. She was young and beautiful. Bright eyed and sweet. They carried on for about three months together before I found out.”

Your eyes welled up with tears. “Why didn’t you leave him?”

“I considered it,” she admitted. “But I loved him too much. I couldn’t bear the thought of life without him. And we had you to think of. I asked him if he wanted to leave me for her. But he said no, he wasn’t in love with her. He just wanted to feel young again.”

“That doesn’t excuse -”

“No, of course it doesn’t excuse it,” she said. “And I was angry with him for months. Even though he ended it with her and he never strayed again, I was so hurt by it that I thought our marriage might really be over. I think...part of me was relieved Roger left you before he caused you the kind of pain your father caused me.”

“Mum, he still hurt me,” you said. “I was blindsided. He totally crushed me.”

“As did your father to me,” she said. “I’m not saying that Roger was right. The way he made you feel was absolutely terrible. But he was honest about what he needed for himself. And there’s something to be said for that.”

“How did you move on?” you asked. “With Dad, I mean.”

“The way I saw it, I had two options,” she said. “I could be angry with him and leave - but I had already ruled that out. Or I could forgive him. I chose forgiveness. And it allowed me to keep the love of my life. And our family together.”

“Was it that easy?” you questioned. 

“God, no,” she laughed. “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever dealt with. Until I lost him, of course. But it was worth every bit of the heartache.” 

You still felt a bit off balance. They had hidden that struggle incredibly well. You always thought your parents had an exemplary marriage. But if you mother could move past that...couldn’t you offer Roger the same reprieve? You had to think about it. 

“I think if you want to be happy, whether or not you get back together with Roger, you need to forgive him,” she said. “Truly forgive him. It’s the only way forward.”

“Thanks, Mum,” you said. “I really needed your advice.”

“Of course, darling,” she said, patting your hand. “Now, let’s get to bed. I’m exhausted from your boss dancing me all over that bar!”

You laughed together and then showed her to your guest room.  

The next day, you went to work in the morning. You had court with Mr. Broome. Unfortunately, the judge did not see it your way and therefore didn’t grant the annulment. You weren’t too upset about it, though. With your mother in town and the afternoon through the weekend off, you felt like you had a lot to look forward to. Mr. Broome said he wanted to appeal the decision, and you advised him to call Jane and set up an appointment to meet with you again and you could discuss it.

The remainder of the morning was spent putting things in order for your long weekend with your mom. You were also giving Jane the time off. If you weren’t going to be in the office, why should your assistant? Any urgent business would go through Bill, who could call you at home. But you shouldn’t be needed.

You walked home, pondering where to take your mother first. Then it hit you. It was so obvious you almost laughed at yourself.

You and your mother strolled down the street. You had changed when you first got home into jeans and a jumper, and now you were comfortably on your way.

“Why can’t  you just tell me where we’re going?” your mother wondered.

“Because it’s a surprise,” you said. “And I won’t ruin it.”

You rounded a corner and pulled her to a stop.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed.

“Oh, come now…”

“Just do it!”

She smirked, sighed, and obeyed. You took her hand. Then you led her down the street and into the building.

“Yeah, I like that, Deaks,” Roger said, trying the line again. “Definitely works better.”

John gave him a thumbs up. Roger played through once more using John’s suggestion, and this time played it flawlessly.

“Well done,” said Freddie from the booth. “That was remarkably not shitty.”

Roger chuckled and flipped the singer off.

“Carry on, darlings,” Freddie instructed with a lazy wave.

They continued through and ended up liking what they ended up with. Then the door opened and all eyes turned on the new arrivals. Roger’s heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw who it was.

“Vivian!” he cried, leaping from his stool and hurtling to the booth.

He saw her release a delighted cry and hug you quickly before turning back around to catch Roger in her arms. You laughed watching them reunite.

“Oh, Roger, dear, how wonderful you look!” your mother exclaimed, looking him over. “It’s been so long!”

“Too long,” he agreed, pulling her in for another hug. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright for an old lady,” she replied. “We’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more,” he said.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she sighed, and she began dabbing at her eyes as she pulled away.

“Mum, don’t cry!” you insisted, rubbing her shoulders comfortingly.

“I can’t help it!” she returned. “It seems like yesterday this young man was just a boy hiding in my shed and now...well, look at you, Roger! A real rock star!”

“Thank you, Viv,” he said gently. “I couldn’t have gotten here without you and Felix.”

Her eyes watered even more.

“He was so proud of you, love,” she said, taking his hand between hers. “So very proud.”

Roger blinked back the tears that had formed in his own eyes. Your mother sighed again with a small laugh.

“Oh, how I wish you and Y/N hadn’t…” she trailed off. “Oh, well. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he told her. “Really. The band is doing well, I’m alright.”

“Y/N told me you’re getting divorced,” she said.

“Yeah, but it’s for the best,” he said. “Dominique and I just weren’t working out.”

“You have children?” she asked.

“Two,” he said. “A boy and a girl. My son is three, and my little girl is one.”

“Oh, you, Roger, a father?!” she gasped. “It’s difficult to imagine, you were so wild as a boy! But of course you’re wonderful. You always were when you really cared for something.”

“I love them very much,” he said. “Here, Viv, meet the rest of the band.”

You watched him introduce your mother to the rest of Queen. She was absolutely tickled about it. Even though you hadn’t kept up with Roger’s band, your parents had, which you didn’t discover until years after your breakup. They had every Queen album and record in their collection. Roger made his way back over to you while your mother spoke to Freddie.

“Thanks for bringing her here,” he said.

“Of course, Rog,” you returned. “She’d kill me if I didn’t let her see you.”

He swallowed thickly and looked between you and her for a moment.

“I always thought they hated me,” he choked out. “For hurting you.”

“Rog…”

“So knowing that they still cared after what I did...thank you, Y/N.”

“Roger, you were like a son to them,” you said, holding his gaze. “You could never do anything to make them hate you. Ever.”

“That’s a relief,” he said.

He took a deep breath and then looked at you.

“I know your mum’s here, but d’you think you could take one evening and come have dinner with me at my place?” he asked. “There’s….so much we need to talk about.”

“Yeah,” you said,a smile slowly parting your lips. “Yeah, I think we could do that.”

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 15

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 15 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, drinking

Historical Inaccuracies:

Mary didn’t go on tour with Queen in 1975

On the 14th of November, 1975, Queen did not leave early for the start of the ANATO tour. Indeed, they “had to rush from London to Liverpool” (x) because they had been shooting the music video for ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in the very same afternoon as the day of their first gig on tour!

Word Count: 3.8k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

August, September, and October disappeared in such a whirlwind rush that you hardly noticed them. You didn’t have time to notice much these days.

Queen were running thirty-eight-hour sessions at multiple recording studios throughout London, working day and night to record and refine the material for their still unnamed fourth album.

Preparations for a release in late November were in full swing, and Queen’s manager Reid was neglecting meetings with Elton John— Elton bloody John, it would never cease to amaze you— to dedicate his time to organising the legs of Queen’s next world tour. Locations, bookings, the transport of instruments and equipment and people, lodging, catering, insurance; the list of things to arrange was endless.

Which was why you often played assistant to Reid, in the absence of Reid’s actual assistant— some clonker named Paul Prenter who turned up late to meetings and had far too much to say for how few hours he put into going to work. You couldn’t be Reid’s full-time assistant, however, because you also tagged along with Roy Thomas Baker, Queen’s producer, since Freddie had more or less insisted that you do so.

You spent a lot of time with Queen, both in the studio and out of it.

In the studio, Freddie consulted you on album concept, Deacy relied on you for input on the song he was writing about Veronica, and Brian taught you to play ‘‘39’. Hearing you sing along with Brian, Roger decided that you should help with backing vocals on one of Freddie’s tracks, and much to everyone’s delight, he coaxed you into agreement. You weren’t delighted with this arrangement, though; you were far too nervous that you’d ruin the vocals of the others.

Outside of the studio, Freddie continued to harp on about your musical education, as he called it, lending you records until you were listening to his music almost constantly.

“I want you to have memorised my collection, darling,” he said one night, swirling his wine, “by the time we set off on tour.”

“Um, okay… That’s a lot of music, Freddie,” you’d swallowed, eyeing the quite frankly enormous record collection that Freddie’s living room housed.

“Psh, all in a day’s work.”

You saw Roger the least out of the four, because when not at Queen’s various recording locations, he was… well, he was bedding Heather, to put it politely. He did take you for the occasional drink and a banter, though. You found that you and he shared a lot of similarities in terms of childhood and upbringing, and this made Roger more brotherly to you than ever.

When he had the time, John would join Roger and you for drinks at the local pub, and the three of you would spend far too long chatting away into the evening. But mostly, Deacy and Ronnie were knackered from their parenting of Robert, and when you could see it all beginning to take a toll on John— he went from the studio to caring for his son and did not sleep in between— you offered yourself as a babysitting service. Deacy and Veronica were immensely grateful for this, because Robert seemed to like you, Auntie Y/N, and though the child could scream bloody murder if he so wished, he was generally a good kid. It was enjoyable to see him learning the ways of the world around him, from lights and colours, to the sounds of his parents’ voices.

Sometimes, when you babysat Robert, Brian came along.

Robert may have liked you, but he loved Brian.

Brian had helped John and Veronica to hang glow-in-the dark stars and planet-mobiles from the ceiling of what was to be Robert’s room when he moved out of his parents’ bedroom, and Brian had been as animated by the activity as though he had been decorating a room for himself.

When Brian visited Robert, he sang to him and rocked the child in his arms and danced about the room, quite forgetting that there was anybody else there. Robert would giggle and occasionally attempt to poke Brian’s nose, which brought Brian no end of wonder, and once again affirmed for you that Brian’s aspirations of one day becoming a father were well-suited to him.

Unfailingly, on the nights when Deacy and Veronica were away, once Robert fell asleep, Brian would suggest that the two of you take to the rooftop to see the stars— of course bringing with you a baby monitor. Thus, you spent many an evening wrapped in a blanket atop the roof of your friend’s house while your best friend sat beside you, cheeks flushed with the cold but unwilling to return inside, even though his teeth chattered and his hair blew about his face in the chilly wind. You began to bring hot chocolate to the roof, though what you really wanted to do to warm Brian was to curl into his side and snuggle close to him.

You didn’t, though. You reserved your pining for him in the form of long, lingering looks.

He’d called you his best friend, and best friends, you told yourself, were built upon platonic principles. If he’d wanted romantic involvement with you, he would have made that clear, and he hadn’t, so you resigned yourself to pushing your feelings down in the pit of your stomach and pretending that his smiles didn’t melt you as easily as chocolate on a summer’s day. Naturally, however, pushing feelings down doesn’t make them go away, but rather concentrates them more, so that every brief glance and accidental touch makes one feel that everything is just that much closer to bubbling over entirely.

But Brian was everywhere you looked, inescapable, inevitable, smiling and just being generally goofy, spouting the most fascinating facts about the cosmos at odd intervals, urging you to sing with him when he sang, nodding at you approvingly over his guitar when you matched his vibrato almost perfectly one Thursday night. Because despite everything, despite Queen’s dawn-to-dusk-to-dawn schedule, Brian still made time for teaching you guitar on Thursday nights.

If it wasn’t for the nights, you might have thought that you could take it.

Take him winking at you and calling you ‘love’ at irregular moments so that your heart stuttered and your thoughts grew sluggishly slow. Take him being near you at almost every hour of every day, and long into the nights as well. Take him existing in his willowy gorgeousness, sunshine-warmed skin and sunlit eyes, soft curls, wide-eyes, angular frame.

But the nights were long, because Brian had confessed that he had begun to sleep better as of late, and this rendered his beauty healthier, more stark, in light of his getting enough rest.

Yes, the nights were long, not for him but for you, because you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing his gentle smile and his hazel eyes.

It was as though he had traded you a milder case of his insomnia, and it frustrated you perpetually, because when you weren’t working or lounging about with Queen, you were studying intensely so as to take your final exams early.

Indeed, you’d committed to not only Queen, but to astrophysics as well.

You were working overtime to finish this year’s coursework early— very early— in fact, by the middle of this month.

You’d been surprised that Dr. Carmichael had even agreed to help you in the first place, but you suspected that something about your situation had reminded him of himself. In the very least, when you’d boldly asked him why he was willing to help you with extra lecture hours and study sessions, he’d said something cryptic about once having missed an opportunity himself, and that he regretted nothing more in his life. You’d been floored that he would openly admit something so personal, being that Carmichael wasn’t the open-book type, but he’d only smiled sadly and told you to have your next paper on his desk by Monday.

It was all very stressful, going from the studio to studying and back to the studio. Your days dissolved into exam preparations and recording sessions, with only guitar lessons in between.

The most difficult part of it all was the guitar lessons.

Brian right across from you, biting his lip, bending strings up the fretboard with long fingers and a concentrated gaze. He’d glance up and nod to you, upon which you’d copy the movement he’d just done, and he would either nod again and continue in whatever song he was playing, or offer you critique. He was articulate in his teaching, and his manner utterly enamoured you, because he moved as though he were made of light.

God, you wanted to kiss him. Just the thought of him being so close to you, touching you, made you shiver. He was so delicate in everything that he did, and you wanted his delicate hands against your skin, his mouth on your mouth, breathing the same air, and you wanted him to want you.

Perhaps that was why you’d begun flirting with him, against your every notion of common sense.

It was just an innuendo here, a touch there, winking at him over your guitar. You didn’t even know where any of it was coming from, because you’d never once in your life had the confidence to flirt. Maybe you drew confidence from Brian’s reaction each time you said or did something suggestive; he blushed, looked down, smiled boyishly. Fucking hell, he was cute. And you felt an inexplicable rush of adrenaline every time you got away with pushing boundaries.

It had been Friday afternoon when Freddie opened a bottle of Moët et Chandon in the kitchen of his flat, and you were with him and Roger and John and Brian to cry woah! when the bubbly liquid shot out of the bottle and onto the floor.

“Freddie,” Brian tutted, shaking his head, and you tried not to laugh.

Roger tossed Brian a tea towel and Brian mopped up the spilled champagne.

“Well, darlings, that’s it,” said Freddie a few minutes later as the five of you gripped filled glasses, “that’s the next album!”

There was a cheer.

Roger raised his glass. “To…” He frowned. “To what? We haven’t exactly named the album.”

You all frowned. Then Deacy shook his head. “To the album!” he said.

“To the album!” you all chorused, laughter abundant in the moments before everyone drank their champagne.

This afternoon, it had been just you and the band, because Freddie had wanted an in-celebration before he threw the actual party for the album on the first night of the tour. But this afternoon gathering also had other significance: today was Reid’s deadline for when the name of the album had to be decided.

And by the time you left Freddie’s place at five that evening, a film had been watched, and a decision had been made.

The name of the album was to be as rivetingly dramatic and as magnificently opulent as the name of Queen.

The album was to be called A Night At The Opera.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The wind was a character in itself, and the sky was weary with the plethora of grey clouds it carried, but it was not raining.

You noticed, because you wanted to remember. You wanted to remember everything about today, the day you set off for Liverpool. With Queen.

You were going on tour.

With Queen.

It hadn’t really sunk in yet. Still, it was happening, because you were walking from the Underground to the tour bus pickup point, which was by one of the studios Queen had been using to record the album.

You had packed light— a minimal array of clothes that would last you a while, being mixed and matched and reused until a washing machine could be located; some essential toiletries; a few well-loved books; your messenger bag; your guitar.

You’d dressed in your warmest, heaviest clothes from the beginning, layering as your mum had always taught you to do.

Your mum. She’d rung you last night.

“And you promise me you’ll call?” she’d said, as though she were in some dramatic film about her daughter leaving on some risky adventure, during which all the characters in the movie learn emotional maturity through a montage of artistically-shot scenes.

You’d sighed, every bit the exasperated daughter. “I’ve promised you before, mum. You know I always keep my word.”

But the dramatic film analogy had indeed borne a grain of truth. This was an adventure, and it was risky.

Money wasn’t something you’d brought much of, because it wasn’t something you had much of. Queen were already covering your expenses as far as food and lodging, and you hadn’t wanted to bother your parents for any money, given how you were already letting them down a little in postponing the completion of your astrophysics degree.

But, as ineloquent as the phrase was, this tour was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

How many people would be able to look back on their life and say, ‘yes, I went on a world tour with a rock ‘n’ roll band’? So few. So few that it was almost saddening that you were getting the chance to do something like this, while so many others would never.

And to think that you’d almost not come along.

Brian was leaning against the tour bus, a book held elegantly before his face as he rested his elbow on his other arm, which was wrapped around his upper body. He looked cold, with windburn colouring his cheeks, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, and his arm was likely wrapped around him more for warmth than in support of the book.

He lowered the novel as you approached, a lovely smile already on his face.

“Morning!” he said brightly.

“Shh,” you chided. “It’s three AM, Brian.”

“Ah, yes,” Brian nodded, his face serious. “No decent people have got up yet.”

“What does that make us?” you laughed.

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Indecent,” he winked.

You’d thought there was only so many times that Brian May could make you blush, but here you were again, blushing like you were five years old, instead of twenty-five.

“Not on my bus, you’re not,” said Freddie to Brian, hopping down off of the tour bus.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Fred.”

“I think you should be directing your chastity comments toward Roger and Heather, Freddie,” you said, nodding in the direction of the two shadowy figures that had been approaching, only to stop in the middle of the empty road to have a snog.

Freddie wrinkled his nose. “Yes indeed. We may need some ground rules.”

Deacy stuck his head out of the bus. “ROGER! No shagging on the bus!”

“Shhh!” you and Brian and Freddie cried all at once.

“Three o’clock in the morning, everyone,” you said. “Three o’clock.”

“Now that, dearie,” Freddie raised a finger, “reminds me. I’m going back to sleep.”

He mounted the steps to the bus once more, and disappeared inside.

“Me too, I think,” said John, blinking tired eyes before following Freddie back onto the bus.

Tucking his book into the folds of his coat, Brian turned to you. “Can I give you a hand with that?” he nodded to your suitcase.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He took your suitcase and loaded it onto the bus, and offered to take your guitar as well, until Roadie-John turned up and muttered something about being put out of a job, confiscating your guitar from Brian.

Brian widened his eyes at you, and the two of you boarded the bus before you could offend any more roadies at far too early of an hour.

“By the way,” Brian said as he held the door open for you, “I like your scarf.”

You tugged on the end of the rainbow garment. “I wonder why.”

Inside, Roger and Heather had arrived and were sitting in a booth by the window, flicking through polaroids. Mary was there too, and she smiled sleepily at you and Brian as you entered, her eyes only half-focussed on the magazine in her lap.

Freddie and Deacy had each drawn the curtains of their bunks. From the sounds of snoring that drifted from their direction, it was obvious that they’d both already fallen asleep again. You envied their ability to slip into unconsciousness so quickly; sleep did not come easily to you, these days.

Brian seemed to think the same thing. “Lucky bastards,” he muttered, “falling asleep like that.”

“Treacherous,” you agreed, and Brian smiled at you. But then you yawned, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Am I to expect your betrayal as well?” he said.

You shook your head. “No, just my annoyingness as a travel partner. Chances are I’ll just yawn for hours and never have anything come of it.”

But Brian frowned thoughtfully. “Exactly what time did you go to bed last night?”

You winced, remembering the late hour. In fact, it wasn’t many hours ago at all. “Midnight,” you responded sheepishly.

“Midnight?” said Brian. “You’re worse than me! Go on,” he ushered you toward a pair of seats, “sit down, have a rest. Even if you can’t sleep, it’s good to close your eyes for a bit.”

“Says the insomniac,” you retorted, albeit half-heartedly. You really were rather tired. You slid into the narrow gap, taking the window seat, and Brian sat down beside you. “You know how hard it is to keep your eyes shut when they don’t want to be.”

Brian smiled, and you knew he empathised. “All the same. Less than three hours of sleep, Y/N. That’s quite bad.”

You sighed. “I know, I know.”

Soon, Roadie-John, Crystal, and Ian Brown, who was to be managing the UK leg of the tour, boarded, and with the driver in his seat, the bus rolled out of Osborn Street and onto the main road.

“Think I’ll try reading,” you said, pulling out the book at the top of the pile in your bag. Brian shrugged off his coat, folding it in his lap and retrieving his paperback from one of the inner pockets.

He looked at his book, and then at yours, and then back at his again.

“What is it?”

“We could just have brought the one copy and shared it,” he said, “saved that packing space.” A goofy grin was on his face as he waved his copy of Steppenwolf, the very same book you held in your hands.

“Oh! You like Hermann Hesse?”

“He’s my favourite author,” said Brian, and the same stupid grin he’d worn before appeared on your own face.

“Good taste,” you told him, covering a yawn.

Crystal dimmed the overhead lights. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced to no one in particular, and as you looked around, you found that, with the exception of the driver, you and Brian were the only ones left awake.

“Well then,” Brian said in the darkness, “there’s not really any good light to read by.”

You snorted. “If you’re trying to convince me to go to sleep, you’re failing miserably.”

Wordlessly, Brian slid his book into the seat pocket in front of him, then eased your bag from your lap and the book from your hands, setting your bag on the floor and the book into its own seat pocket. He lifted his coat from his own lap and draped it over you, tucking it in around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I’ve nothing more to offer you,” he said softly, as the lights of the city swept over his face through the uncovered window.

And yet he’d given you everything he had. Selflessly, without a thought, though the morning was cold and he still had not warmed from standing outdoors in the wake of the wind.

The simple gesture filled you with such an adoration that you had no way to express it.

You shuffled closer to him and laid his coat across you both, then settled your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Brian.”

He leaned his head against yours, and you were reminded of the night at Ridge Farm.

You sighed quietly, cuddling into his side. You fought to keep your eyes open, but you were so tired, and Brian was so warm.

“Go to sleep and dream again,” he murmured sweetly, and your eyelids felt a thousand times heavier than before.

“What if I miss something?” you whispered, because the fear of the world passing you by was suddenly overwhelming.

Brian’s voice hummed in harmony with the peaceful silence around him. “I’ll be right here to tell you about everything when you wake up again.”

“Everything?”

“Every butterfly and every tree,” he promised. “Every hole in the road and every star in the sky.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Y/N,” Brian was shaking your shoulder gently. “Love, we’re here.”

You groaned. “M’was fimally ‘sleep,” you said.

“I know. I’ve already postponed waking you for this long, though,” he said. “The others have left. They’ve unloaded the bus.”

You sat up blearily. “Well, I should get on with it, then.”

Brian smiled. “You can sleep when you get to your hotel room. It’s not like we’ve got anything to do today, anyway, until soundcheck.”

“Well, you’ve got to tell me about everything you saw while I was asleep.”

He laughed. “Shouldn’t take too long. It was London to Liverpool, there’s not much to report.”

You passed him his coat, which had somehow migrated entirely over to you, and he passed you your bag, slipping your book back into one of the pockets.

Brian looked at you a moment, and you stared back up at him, wondering what he saw in your half-open eyes and messy hair while you were met with the sight of pretty hazel irises and immaculate curls.

He reached for the rainbow scarf and wound it around you more tightly, adjusting your jumper so that it wasn’t in the way. His touch lingered on the nape of your neck, his eyes roamed yours. His lips were rendered a dusky pink in the pale morning light.

“It’s cold in Liverpool,” he said, and slid from his seat.

Your eyes followed him as he disembarked the bus, his curls bobbing as he bent a little to avoid hitting his head on a beam.

Anyone could have seen the longingness in your stare, how you yearned to call him back, pull him to you, kiss him until he was lost for both breath and words, watch him blush the way he made you blush.

There was really nothing stopping you.

You’re my best friend.

So perhaps there was one thing stopping you.

Brian poked his head back through the door. Affection bloomed in your chest at the mere sight of him. It was sickening.

“Coming?” he asked, far too awake for seven o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah,” you said. “Coming.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: filler? call me out. it’s okay, because next week is chapter 16 :’)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @sgt-stardustkillerqueen @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @brianmays-hair​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​ @cloudyyspace​ @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen​ @annajolras​ 

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

[schrijverr]

Authentic

While writing HNOC, Jonny suddenly puts on an accent, when it isn’t well recieved at first, he gets weird. He is withdrawn and agreeble, concerned the others corner him and find out it is his original accent. He storms off and is comforted by Brian.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none really, but tell me if I missed one or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian had not been pleased when he had finally been freed from the core of the sun around which Fort Galfridean had orbited, but he’d cheered up a bit after the Mechs had agreed this tale was good enough to be told.

They’d started writing it. First getting a feel for the songs to see, which voice fitted where, shots had been fired, First Mates had died, nothing important. An outline had been made as well, giving a broad idea of the spoken parts and the songs.

Now they were sitting in a circle with their instruments, ready to try some melodies and tweak the lyrics. They had agreed on the beginning, mostly, the first part was written down and Ashes said: “I think we should have Lavinia Stone explain why they’re going to shoot.”

“You mean when she told them they could run the town if they killed her and took her sheriff star?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, that.” Ashes replied, “You know what she told them exactly?”

Brian thought for a second, then unsure said: “I think she used son of a bitch? Maybe tin star and rightwise sheriff of the town or something in that direction? Does that help?”

“Yeah, that might work.” Jonny agreed, “Uhm, what about something like this: Any sonnabitch can pull this tin star from me, makes ‘em rightwise sheriff o’ this town.”

He scratched his nose and shook his head as he whispered to himself: “No, needs a few more words.”

Clicking his tongue he thought for a second, then his face lit up and he proudly said: “Any sumbitch can pull this tin star from my stone cold hands, makes ‘em rightwise sheriff o’ this here town. ‘Cause she’s Lavinia STONE.”

The smirk turned into a frown when he looked at the others. All had a confused expression on their face, eyes filled with question marks. Jonny had no clue what that was about and muttered: “We don’t have to use that part, geez. Just tell me if it sucks.”

That snapped most out of it and Tim said: “No, it’s not that, just wow, that was weird.”

“What?” now it was Jonnys turn to be confused.

“Did you not hear what you just did?” Ashes asked.

“I suggested something for the song and you all got weird about it.” Jonny frowned, not comprehending what they were getting at.

Ashes facepalmed and Tim exclaimed: “The fucking accent, Jonny, where the fuck did that come from?”

Understanding appeared on Jonnys face and lightly embarrassed he shrugged: “Thought it might be fun. Brian said some of them talked funny and from his horrible impersonation, I gathered it sounded something like this. Besides, it adds a bit to the atmosphere, right?”

The others found that explanation enough and agreed that it did sound fun, before they moved on to the next part, squabbling like normal until Brian came in and Galahad was introduced.

Lyrics was as easy as it had ever been, which is to say not that easy but with years of practice they managed, and it was only when they did a quick test run that it went wrong. Jonny was in the middle of his part when Tim interrupted: “Do you have to give him the accent too?”

Jonny stopped mid sentence and indignantly asked: “What’s wrong with the accent?”

“It’s inconsistent.” Tim told him.

“What! My accent is not inconsistent, what are you on about?” Jonny exclaimed, getting offended and a bit of fear, that no one could place, creeping into his voice.

Brian tried to keep the peace and said: “I think what Tim means is that none of us are using an accent, so although it is accurate it might be weird that only some of the characters have it, you know?”

“Well, why don’t y’all do the accent too then?” Jonny pouted.

“Oh, really, letting it bleed over now are you. What are you trying to prove?” Tim snapped.

If anyone had been paying close attention they would have seen that Jonny flinched back slightly at that, but no one did.

“I think none of us can keep that up, Jonny.” Brian tried to placate him, “You already said I did a horrible job at it.”

Jonny sighed and moped: “Okay, fine, but I personally think it sounds better with the accent.”

“Sure, lets just start from the top again.” Ashes said.

They all got in position again and started again. This time when they got to Galahads part, Jonny played up his normal British accent as much as possible. He was stopped again, this time by Marius: “Really, Jonny? Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you don’t get to take it seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously, I did exactly what you wanted. Nothing is good enough around here.” Jonny pouted earnestly.

“Why are you so insistent on using the accent?” Marius asked him.

Jonny opened his mouth, but closed it before a sound could come out and bit his lip. He swallowed and shrugged: “I’m not, just sang like normal. But also it’s accurate? And it sounds better?”

He grabbed some notes for the next part and explained: “I mean what sounds better out of the two of these: ‘Don’t recall asking for your opinion, son.’ or ‘I don’t think I asked for you input, my friend’?”

“If you exaggerate it like that, of course it will sound dumb, but the accent you’re doing is even dumber.” Tim said, not willing to abandon his side and say Jonny was right.

Some of the others agreed and something shut behind Jonnys eyes as he relented.

The others were glad this wouldn’t end as a big fight, which would be a mess to clean up, but Jonny wasn’t the same afterwards. He kept his mouth shut most of the time, no banter and no unnecessary commentary.

They tried to go on, but with Jonnys mood it was almost impossible, so they decided to leave finishing and cultivating the first draft for later and take a break.

The moment it was decided Jonny was out of the room, yelling something over his shoulder about a smoke, despite the fact that smoking was allowed everywhere on the Aurora. No one stopped him, however, just watching him go. Tim commented: “The asshole.”

Ashes smirked and Marius rolled his eyes, but Brian was a bit concerned about their First Mates reaction. Still, he knew following him and asking if he was alright, wouldn't be appreciated, so he left him to himself, but he resolved to keep an eye on him.

It seemed to be over the next day, Jonny had shut up about the accent and everything went on as normal, he did sound more British than normal, though, but not enough to be truly notable.

There did seem to be less fighting, though. Every time it seemed a fight would’ve normally broken out between Jonny and someone else (Jonny was usually the one fighting the most), Jonny would relent and let the other do their thing.

At first, no one was questioning this sudden change of character since it made the process go a whole lot smoother. Brian had frowned at the start, but Jonny didn’t seem to mind still just grinning like normal, so he hadn’t said anything about it.

Then that changed.

They’d finished the first draft and although no one member was more important than the other, it was the collective group that made it the best. And while Jonny wasn’t always prominent in the writing of the notes you could see him reflected in the lyrics, but his presence was now obviously missing.

This became even more apparent when they played it for the first time, stopping from time to time to make notes and suggestions.

Everyone had picked up on it, everyone except Jonny apparently. He was either playing oblivious or really hadn’t noticed the others silences that he hadn’t filled when they were taking suggestions on parts he hadn’t had a say in yet.

They were a bit sick of it. Was he still mad at them for yesterday? He seemed fine, but they all had masks. Was he deliberately being an asshole in the hope they would apologize or something? No, he wouldn’t do that, well he would be a deliberate asshole, but not over this. Unless this wasn’t like normal?

“What do you think, Jonny?” Brian asked.

“Hm?” Jonny looked up, “Oh, uhm, seems fine.”

He smiled at them, but they weren’t really sure he knew what it was about with the way his eyes were a bit distant.

“What were we talking about?” Tim asked, getting a bit frustrated.

Jonny blinked and uncertainly said: “The lyrics for the song about Mordred returning to the Saxons?”

“No,” Tim sighed, “about the love song between the three Pendragons. Are you even paying attention?”

He winced and replied: “Yes, just got a tad distracted. What was the original question?”

Tim was about to get angry, so Brian intervened: “I was wondering what you thought. This part here doesn’t flow so well.”

Brain pointed at the sheet in Jonnys hand and Jonny read it out loud to himself: “Guinevere you’re my stars, Arthur you’re my night. I know we have to ride at the dawns first light. And I’m not saying that this crusade isn’t right. But first we fuel a few more sins with whiskey.”

Jonny was quiet as he thought. He seemed to come up with something, because his eyes did the light up thing they always got when he had an idea, but then they dulled and he didn’t say a thing.

After a while he shrugged and said: “I don’t know.”

Now everyone was getting worried. If there was one thing Jonny loved, it was stealing the show by coming up with something and fixing a problem. It could be annoying if it wasn’t helpful.

He did not stay silent.

“Are you sure?” Brian asked, “It seemed like you thought of something.”

Jonny bit his lip, before carefully saying: “I thought- uhm, maybe? I think I could fix it, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Why do you think that? We won’t know unless we’ve heard it, so just tell us and we’ll decide ourselves.” Brian encouraged him.

Nodding slightly, Jonny started to sing: “Guinevere you’re my stars, Arthur you’re my night. I know we’ve got to ride at the dawns first light. And I ain’t saying this preacher man’s crusade ain’t right. But first we fuel a few more sins with whiskey.”

Jonny tried to gauge their reactions and quickly said: “I know y’all don’t like the accent and think it’s dumb, but the words make it fit better. Of course, we don’t have to do it. It was just a suggestion, you know.”

“No, no, that fits.” Ashes told him.

His shoulder sagged a bit with relief and he smiled at them before he wrote the new lyrics down. He did not notice he was the only one changing the lyrics.

While he was doing that, Brain and Marius shared a concerned look that the others caught on to and made them look at Jonny again and think. Then Marius said: “Hey, Jonny?”

“Yes?” Jonny asked looking up.

“Why do you know so much about this one accent and use of language?” Marius replied, immediately adding: “Not that that’s a bad thing of course, just curious.”

“I don’t know that much about it.” Jonny dodged the question.

“Yes, you do.” Tim inserted himself into the conversation as well.

Jonny huffed and crossed his arms as he said: “It doesn’t matter, why do you care so much anyway. I thought you found it dumb.”

“Because you’re suddenly acting weird after we brought it up.” Tim exclaimed.

That startled Jonny a bit, but he yelled back: “I do not.”

“Yes, you are.” Tim frowned angrily and began to list, “You’re not making useless comments, no banter, exaggerating your British accent, you’re not giving your own opinions, you’re fucking agreeable, Jonny. You’re never agreeable, so excuse us for wanting to know what the fuck is going on with you.”

“There’s nothing going on with me, I tried something and it failed, so I shut up.” Jonny spat, “I’m fine.”

“What did you try? What on earth did you try to make you act like this when it failed.” Tim had stood up now to continue their fighting match, properly.

Brian, however, wasn’t having it and pushed him back down in his seat as he shouted: “Lets all just calm down for one second, okay.”

Both took a deep breath and just glared at each other.

Gently Marius broke the silence: “Jonny, you try a lot of things that don’t succeed, why does this one bother you so much. I know Tim wasn’t the best at telling you this, but we’re just worried about you.”

Jonny swallowed heavily and blinked heavily a few times. He tried to start a few times, but then just stopped, choosing to dismiss it: “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“The more you dodge it, the more it seems like a big deal and we’re not continuing until you tell us.” Ashes told him. From where they were resting on the couch, all sprawled out, they looked like how they’d been when they were Hades. The royal feeling rolled off of them and Jonny couldn’t help, but listen.

“It’s, uhm, I’m from New Texas.” he finally settled on saying.

When that didn’t clear anything up he explained: “It’s not the same system as orbited around Avalon, but it’s close.”

The realization dawned on everyone that the accent they’d thought he’d been putting on was his original accent and the way he spoke now could be considered him putting on an accent. They’d never realized that he could have a different accent since the rest of them, except for Nastya, had the same one.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jonny. We hadn’t realized.” Brian said.

Jonny squirmed in his place uncomfortably and shrugged: “It’s no big deal.”

“Seems like it is though, I know you don’t like me psychoanalyzing you, but this made you more upset than anything else I’ve seen.” Marius told him.

That earned him a scowl from Jonny, who replied: “Stay away from my brain, Marius. It’s none of your business.”

Meanwhile, Tim was still thinking about Jonnys change of accent without really paying attention to what the others were saying, so he blurted out: “So where did your accent go then? Nastya still had hers, despite being on this ship for quite a long time.”

The scowl deepened and Jonny said: “That’s also none of your fucking business.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you’re so upset?” Marius asked.

Completely fed up, Jonny roared: “Yes.” and stomped off.

As they watched him go, Ashes commented: “That could’ve gone a lot smoother.”

Beside them Brian pinched his nose and sighed: “Yes. Yes, it could have.”

“Should we go check on him?” Tim asked,a bit taken aback by the reaction and feeling guilty a bit too.

“No, I think we’ve done enough for today. I’ll check up on him in a few hours.” Brian told him.

The rest of the day came and went and soon it was time for Brian to see how their First Mate was fairing. He hesitated outside his room for a second, then he knocked.

It was quiet for a beat, then he hear Jonnys voice: “What do you want?”

“It’s me, Brian. I came to check up on you. I know you don’t want me to, but just open the door so I  can see you’re at least a bit okay and I’ll leave you alone.” Brian answered.

He heard grumbling, but also movement, so he smiled at his little victory.

The door slid open and Jonny looked at the ground and said: “See, I’m fine. Now go away.”

Brian raised a brow and rolled his eyes, before he squatted down a bit and gently put a finger under Jonnys chin to raise his face to make eye contact. Jonnys eyes were shining with the wetness of tears not yet fallen, but his makeup hadn’t been smudged, which Brian counted as a win.

What he didn’t count as a win, however, was that Jonny wasn’t even fighting him about this treatment. He just stood there silently and stared at Brian, all fight drained out of his body with the opening of his door.

Brian broke the silence softly: “If you want I can leave now, but I’m happy to stay. You don’t have to talk, just company.”

Jonny worried his lip between his teeth as a mental battle waged behind his eyes. Then he quietly said: “Don’t tell the others?”

“Of course not.” Brian replied with a kind smile, closing the door behind him as he lead Jonny to his bed.

Brian leaned against the wall and allowed Jonny to crawl up beside him, before pulling the blanket over the two of them. He gently rubbed Jonnys back and sat quietly with his eyes closed and his mind calm.

He knew Jonny was more tactile than he’d have you believe. All the crew was familiar with the ways he would brush up against people, accidentally bump into them or started a fistfights when he was feeling lonely.

No one ever said anything about it, but they tried their best to pander to it. Everyone had something after all.

After nearly thirty minutes of comfortable silence Jonny said: “I know it’s stupid to be upset about. I just- never mind.”

“It isn’t stupid at all.” Brian told him.

“Yes, it is.” Jonny moped, “Just because she beat it out of me doesn’t mean that it isn’t just an accent.”

He didn’t even seem to realize what he had just confessed, instead angrily staring at Brians thigh and plucking on a lose thread of Brians pants, Brian knew he would probably offer to fix it later as a thank you or apology, unable to voice it.

Brian carded a hand through Jonnys hair and said: “You know, I don’t even speak this language.”

“What?” Jonny asked, not looking up, but leaning into the touch.

“I borrowed a book from Ivy about my own planet, it talked about the language and how it’s one of the few places that hasn’t switched to Basic yet. There was a passage in the language, but I couldn't understand a word, not programmed for it, I guess.” Brian explained.

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, that sucks.” Jonny mumbled.

Brian shrugged and said: “Yeah, kind of. I know I’m not that Brain, never really was, but it still hurt. I locked myself at the helm for two months to process. Isn’t that stupid?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Jonny frowned, plucking harder, “That’s upsetting to learn, you just reacted like anyone else would.”

“You’re right.” Brian agreed, for a moment Jonny was confused, but then Brian cleared it up: “So, why is it stupid when you’re upset?”

“I don’t know.” Jonny pouted.

“You don’t have to know. Sometimes a brain is just stupid, but that has nothing to do with you. You’re allowed to just be upset.” Brian told him.

Jonny huffed: “You sound like Marius.”

“Marius isn’t always wrong, even when he is an idiot from time to time.” Brian said.

They fell into a comfortable silence again after that. The rhythmic motion of Brian petting Jonnys hair soothing them both.

Then after a while, Brian said: “For the record, I liked the accent you gave Galahad, you really sounded like him. Tim probably did too, he just wanted a fight I think.”

“Really?” Jonny asked after a beat of silence.

Brian smiled: “Yeah, really. I think that if you bring it up again, the others are probably a lot more receptive. You know how they love dramatics and what is more dramatic then an album with authentic vocabulary and accents just for accuracy?”

Jonny grinned: “Not much.”

“Exactly.” Brian nodded, then he stayed silent until Jonny had fallen asleep.

The next morning the two of them made their way to breakfast. Jonny was his chipper self again and bounced around Brian as he excitedly told him about the dream he had in which it had been him against an entire army, pretty violent over all, but Jonny had won and found himself quite the badass, despite the fact that it was a dream and he had not actually done that.

He didn’t even notice how the others lost their tenseness when he’d come in. All had been afraid that he would still be upset, but it seemed Brian had been a good influence.

They all ate, before going back to the practice room. The plan was to start going over everything again, just the next draft until everything was perfect, but before they could start Jonny nervously asked: “Hey, uhm, I was just wondering if y’all’d be okay if I tried the accent again with Galahad. I think it would enrich the album and if all y’all don’t like it, we can scrap it again.”

“I think that would be a great idea, Jonny.” Marius smiled at him.

Relief washed over Jonnys face and he smiled back.

In the end they kept the accent in there and watching Jonny go apeshit every single time he got to perform Hellfire was completely worth it.

[path-of-my-childhood]

The Rolling Stone Interview: Taylor Swift

By: Brian Hiatt for The Rolling Stone Magazine Date: September 18th 2019

In her most in-depth and introspective interview in years, Swift tells all about the rocky road to 'Lover' and much, much more.

Taylor Swift bursts into her mom’s Nashville kitchen, smiling, looking remarkably like Taylor Swift. (That red-lip, classic thing? Check.) “I need someone to help dye my hair pink,” she says, and moments later, her ends match her sparkly nail polish, sneakers, and the stripes on her button-down. It’s all in keeping with the pastel aesthetic of her new album, Lover; black-leather combat-Taylor from her previous album cycle has handed back the phone. Around the black-granite kitchen island, all is calm and normal, as Swift’s mom, dad, and younger brother pass through. Her mom’s two dogs, one very small, one very large, pounce upon visitors with slurping glee. It could be any 29-year-old’s weekend visit with her parents, if not for the madness looming a few feet down the hall.

In an airy terrace, 113 giddy, weepy, shaky, still-in-disbelief fans are waiting for the start of one of Swift’s secret sessions, sacred rituals in Swift-dom. She’s about to play them her seventh album, as-yet unreleased on this Sunday afternoon in early August, and offer copious commentary. Also, she made cookies. Just before the session, Swift sits down in her mom’s study (where she “operates the Google,” per her daughter) to chat for a few minutes. The black-walled room is decorated with black-and-white classic-rock photos, including shots of Bruce Springsteen and, unsurprisingly, James Taylor; there are also more recent shots of Swift posing with Kris Kristofferson and playing with Def Leppard, her mom’s favorite band.

In a corner is an acoustic guitar Swift played as a teenager. She almost certainly wrote some well-known songs on it, but can’t recall which ones. “It would be kind of weird to finish a song and be like, ‘And this moment, I shall remember,’'” she says, laughing. “‘This guitar hath been anointed with my sacred tuneage!'”

The secret session itself is, as the name suggests, deeply off-the-record; it can be confirmed that she drank some white wine, since her glass pops up in some Instagram pictures. She stays until 5 a.m., chatting and taking photos with every one of the fans. Five hours later, we continue our talk at length in Swift’s Nashville condo, in almost exactly the same spot where we did one of our interviews for her 2012 Rolling Stone cover story. She’s hardly changed its whimsical decor in the past seven years (one of the few additions is a pool table replacing the couch where we sat last time), so it’s an old-Taylor time capsule. There’s still a huge bunny made of moss in one corner, and a human-size birdcage in the living room, though the view from the latter is now of generic new condo buildings instead of just distant green hills. Swift is barefoot now, in pale-blue jeans and a blue button-down tied at the waist; her hair is pulled back, her makeup minimal.

How to sum up the past three years of Taylor Swift? In July 2016, after Swift expressed discontent with Kanye West’s “Famous,” Kim Kardashian did her best to destroy her, unleashing clandestine recordings of a phone conversation between Swift and West. In the piecemeal audio, Swift can be heard agreeing to the line “…me and Taylor might still have sex.” We don’t hear her learning about the next lyric, the one she says bothered her — “I made that bitch famous” — and as she’ll explain, there’s more to her side of the story. The backlash was, well, swift, and overwhelming. It still hasn’t altogether subsided. Later that year, Swift chose not to make an endorsement in the 2016 election, which definitely didn’t help. In the face of it all, she made Reputation — fierce, witty, almost-industrial pop offset by love songs of crystalline beauty — and had a wildly successful stadium tour. Somewhere in there, she met her current boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, and judging by certain songs on Lover, the relationship is serious indeed.

Lover is Swift’s most adult album, a rebalancing of sound and persona that opens doors to the next decade of her career; it’s also a welcome return to the sonic diversity of 2012’s Red, with tracks ranging from the St. Vincent-assisted über-bop “Cruel Summer” to the unbearably poignant country-fied “Soon You’ll Get Better” (with the Dixie Chicks) and the “Shake It Off”-worthy pep of “Paper Rings.”

She wants to talk about the music, of course, but she is also ready to explain the past three years of her life, in depth, for the first time. The conversation is often not a light one. She’s built up more armor in the past few years, but still has the opposite of a poker face — you can see every micro-emotion wash over her as she ponders a question, her nose wrinkling in semi-ironic offense at the term “old-school pop stars,” her preposterously blue eyes glistening as she turns to darker subjects. In her worst moments, she says, “You feel like you’re being completely pulled into a riptide. So what are you going to do? Splash a lot? Or hold your breath and hope you somehow resurface? And that’s what I did. And it took three years. Sitting here doing an interview — the fact that we’ve done an interview before is the only reason I’m not in a full body sweat.”

When we talked seven years ago, everything was going so well for you, and you were very worried that something would go wrong. Yeah, I kind of knew it would. I felt like I was walking along the sidewalk, knowing eventually the pavement was going to crumble and I was gonna fall through. You can’t keep winning and have people like it. People love “new” so much — they raise you up the flagpole, and you’re waving at the top of the flagpole for a while. And then they’re like, “Wait, this new flag is what we actually love.” They decide something you’re doing is incorrect, that you’re not standing for what you should stand for. You’re a bad example. Then if you keep making music and you survive, and you keep connecting with people, eventually they raise you a little bit up the flagpole again, and then they take you back down, and back up again. And it happens to women more than it happens to men in music.

It also happened to you a few times on a smaller scale, didn’t it? I’ve had several upheavals in my career. When I was 18, they were like, “She doesn’t really write those songs.” So my third album I wrote by myself as a reaction to that. Then they decided I was a serial dater — a boy-crazy man-eater — when I was 22. And so I didn’t date anyone for, like, two years. And then they decided in 2016 that absolutely everything about me was wrong. If I did something good, it was for the wrong reasons. If I did something brave, I didn’t do it correctly. If I stood up for myself, I was throwing a tantrum. And so I found myself in this endless mockery echo chamber. It’s just like — I have a brother who’s two and a half years younger, and we spent the first half of our lives trying to kill each other and the second half as best friends. You know that game kids play? I’d be like, “Mom, can I have some water?” And Austin would be like, “Mom, can I have some water?” And I’m like, “He’s copying me.” And he’d be like, “He’s copying me.” Always in a really obnoxious voice that sounds all twisted. That’s what it felt like in 2016. So I decided to just say nothing. It wasn’t really a decision. It was completely involuntary.

But you also had good things happen in your life at the same time — that’s part of Reputation. The moments of my true story on that album are songs like “Delicate,” “New Year’s Day,” “Call It What You Want,” “Dress.” The one-two punch, bait-and-switch of Reputation is that it was actually a love story. It was a love story in amongst chaos. All the weaponized sort of metallic battle anthems were what was going on outside. That was the battle raging on that I could see from the windows, and then there was what was happening inside my world — my newly quiet, cozy world that was happening on my own terms for the first time. . . . It’s weird, because in some of the worst times of my career, and reputation, dare I say, I had some of the most beautiful times — in my quiet life that I chose to have. And I had some of the most incredible memories with the friends I now knew cared about me, even if everyone hated me. The bad stuff was really significant and damaging. But the good stuff will endure. The good lessons — you realize that you can’t just show your life to people.

Meaning? I used to be like a golden retriever, just walking up to everybody, like, wagging my tail. “Sure, yeah, of course! What do you want to know? What do you need?” Now, I guess, I have to be a little bit more like a fox.

Do your regrets on that extend to the way the “girl squad” thing was perceived? Yeah, I never would have imagined that people would have thought, “This is a clique that wouldn’t have accepted me if I wanted to be in it.” Holy shit, that hit me like a ton of bricks. I was like, “Oh, this did not go the way that I thought it was going to go.” I thought it was going to be we can still stick together, just like men are allowed to do. The patriarchy allows men to have bro packs. If you’re a male artist, there’s an understanding that you have respect for your counterparts.

Whereas women are expected to be feuding with each other? It’s assumed that we hate each other. Even if we’re smiling and photographed together with our arms around each other, it’s assumed there’s a knife in our pocket.

How much of a danger was there of falling into that thought pattern yourself? The messaging is dangerous, yes. Nobody is immune, because we’re a product of what society and peer groups and now the internet tells us, unless we learn differently from experience.

You once sang about a star who “took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out.” In 2016, you wrote in your journal, “This summer is the apocalypse.” How close did you come to quitting altogether? I definitely thought about that a lot. I thought about how words are my only way of making sense of the world and expressing myself — and now any words I say or write are being twisted against me. People love a hate frenzy. It’s like piranhas. People had so much fun hating me, and they didn’t really need very many reasons to do it. I felt like the situation was pretty hopeless. I wrote a lot of really aggressively bitter poems constantly. I wrote a lot of think pieces that I knew I’d never publish, about what it’s like to feel like you’re in a shame spiral. And I couldn’t figure out how to learn from it. Because I wasn’t sure exactly what I did that was so wrong. That was really hard for me, because I cannot stand it when people can’t take criticism. So I try to self-examine, and even though that’s really hard and hurts a lot sometimes, I really try to understand where people are coming from when they don’t like me. And I completely get why people wouldn’t like me. Because, you know, I’ve had my insecurities say those things — and things 1,000 times worse.

But some of your former critics have become your friends, right? Some of my best friendships came from people publicly criticizing me and then it opening up a conversation. Hayley Kiyoko was doing an interview and she made an example about how I get away with singing about straight relationships and people don’t give me shit the way they give her shit for singing about girls — and it’s totally valid. Like, Ella — Lorde — the first thing she ever said about me publicly was a criticism of my image or whatever. But I can’t really respond to someone saying, “You, as a human being, are fake.” And if they say you’re playing the victim, that completely undermines your ability to ever verbalize how you feel unless it’s positive. So, OK, should I just smile all the time and never say anything hurts me? Because that’s really fake. Or should I be real about how I’m feeling and have valid, legitimate responses to things that happened to me in my life? But wait, would that be playing the victim?

How do you escape that mental trap? Since I was 15 years old, if people criticized me for something, I changed it. So you realize you might be this amalgamation of criticisms that were hurled at you, and not an actual person who’s made any of these choices themselves. And so I decided I needed to live a quiet life, because a quiet personal life invites no discussion, dissection, and debate. I didn’t realize I was inviting people to feel they had the right to sort of play my life like a video game.

“The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Because she’s dead!” was funny — but how seriously should we take it? There’s a part of me that definitely is always going to be different. I needed to grow up in many ways. I needed to make boundaries, to figure out what was mine and what was the public’s. That old version of me that shares unfailingly and unblinkingly with a world that is probably not fit to be shared with? I think that’s gone. But it was definitely just, like, a fun moment in the studio with me and Jack [Antonoff] where I wanted to play on the idea of a phone call — because that’s how all of this started, a stupid phone call I shouldn’t have picked up.

It would have been much easier if that’s what you’d just said. It would have been so, so great if I would have just said that [laughs].

Some of the Lover iconography does suggest old Taylor’s return, though. I don’t think I’ve ever leaned into the old version of myself more creatively than I have on this album, where it’s very, very autobiographical. But also moments of extreme catchiness and moments of extreme personal confession.

Did you do anything wrong from your perspective in dealing with that phone call? Is there anything you regret? The world didn’t understand the context and the events that led up to it. Because nothing ever just happens like that without some lead-up. Some events took place to cause me to be pissed off when he called me a bitch. That was not just a singular event. Basically, I got really sick of the dynamic between he and I. And that wasn’t just based on what happened on that phone call and with that song — it was kind of a chain reaction of things.

I started to feel like we reconnected, which felt great for me — because all I ever wanted my whole career after that thing happened in 2009 was for him to respect me. When someone doesn’t respect you so loudly and says you literally don’t deserve to be here — I just so badly wanted that respect from him, and I hate that about myself, that I was like, “This guy who’s antagonizing me, I just want his approval.” But that’s where I was. And so we’d go to dinner and stuff. And I was so happy, because he would say really nice things about my music. It just felt like I was healing some childhood rejection or something from when I was 19. But the 2015 VMAs come around. He’s getting the Vanguard Award. He called me up beforehand — I didn’t illegally record it, so I can’t play it for you. But he called me up, maybe a week or so before the event, and we had maybe over an hourlong conversation, and he’s like, “I really, really would like for you to present this Vanguard Award to me, this would mean so much to me,” and went into all the reasons why it means so much, because he can be so sweet. He can be the sweetest. And I was so stoked that he asked me that. And so I wrote this speech up, and then we get to the VMAs and I make this speech and he screams, “MTV got Taylor Swift up here to present me this award for ratings!” [His exact words: “You know how many times they announced Taylor was going to give me the award ’cause it got them more ratings?”] And I’m standing in the audience with my arm around his wife, and this chill ran through my body. I realized he is so two-faced. That he wants to be nice to me behind the scenes, but then he wants to look cool, get up in front of everyone and talk shit. And I was so upset. He wanted me to come talk to him after the event in his dressing room. I wouldn’t go. So then he sent this big, big thing of flowers the next day to apologize. And I was like, “You know what? I really don’t want us to be on bad terms again. So whatever, I’m just going to move past this.” So when he gets on the phone with me, and I was so touched that he would be respectful and, like, tell me about this one line in the song.

The line being “. . . me and Taylor might still have sex”? [Nods] And I was like, “OK, good. We’re back on good terms.” And then when I heard the song, I was like, “I’m done with this. If you want to be on bad terms, let’s be on bad terms, but just be real about it.” And then he literally did the same thing to Drake. He gravely affected the trajectory of Drake’s family and their lives. It’s the same thing. Getting close to you, earning your trust, detonating you. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore because I get worked up, and I don’t want to just talk about negative shit all day, but it’s the same thing. Go watch Drake talk about what happened. [West denied any involvement in Pusha-T’s revelation of Drake’s child and apologized for sending “negative energy” toward Drake.]

When did you get to the place that’s described on the opening track of Lover, “I Forgot That You Existed”? It was sometime on the Reputation tour, which was the most transformative emotional experience of my career. That tour put me in the healthiest, most balanced place I’ve ever been. After that tour, bad stuff can happen to me, but it doesn’t level me anymore. The stuff that happened a couple of months ago with Scott [Borchetta] would have leveled me three years ago and silenced me. I would have been too afraid to speak up. Something about that tour made me disengage from some part of public perception I used to hang my entire identity on, which I now know is incredibly unhealthy.

What was the actual revelation? It’s almost like I feel more clear about the fact that my job is to be an entertainer. It’s not like this massive thing that sometimes my brain makes it into, and sometimes the media makes it into, where we’re all on this battlefield and everyone’s gonna die except one person, who wins. It’s like, “No, do you know what? Katy is going to be legendary. Gaga is going to be legendary. Beyoncé is going to be legendary. Rihanna is going to be legendary. Because the work that they made completely overshadows the myopia of this 24-hour news cycle of clickbait.” And somehow I realized that on tour, as I was looking at people’s faces. We’re just entertaining people, and it’s supposed to be fun.

It’s interesting to look at these albums as a trilogy. 1989 was really a reset button. Oh, in every way. I’ve been very vocal about the fact that that decision was mine and mine alone, and it was definitely met with a lot of resistance. Internally.

After realizing that things were not all smiles with your former label boss, Scott Borchetta, it’s hard not to wonder how much additional conflict there was over things like that. A lot of the best things I ever did creatively were things that I had to really fight — and I mean aggressively fight — to have happen. But, you know, I’m not like him, making crazy, petty accusations about the past. . . . When you have a business relationship with someone for 15 years, there are going to be a lot of ups and a lot of downs. But I truly, legitimately thought he looked at me as the daughter he never had. And so even though we had a lot of really bad times and creative differences, I was going to hang my hat on the good stuff. I wanted to be friends with him. I thought I knew what betrayal felt like, but this stuff that happened with him was a redefinition of betrayal for me, just because it felt like it was family. To go from feeling like you’re being looked at as a daughter to this grotesque feeling of “Oh, I was actually his prized calf that he was fattening up to sell to the slaughterhouse that would pay the most.”

He accused you of declining the Parkland march and Manchester benefit show. Unbelievable. Here’s the thing: Everyone in my team knew if Scooter Braun brings us something, do not bring it to me. The fact that those two are in business together after the things he said about Scooter Braun — it’s really hard to shock me. And this was utterly shocking. These are two very rich, very powerful men, using $300 million of other people’s money to purchase, like, the most feminine body of work. And then they’re standing in a wood-panel bar doing a tacky photo shoot, raising a glass of scotch to themselves. Because they pulled one over on me and got this done so sneakily that I didn’t even see it coming. And I couldn’t say anything about it.

In some ways, on a musical level, Lover feels like the most indie-ish of your albums. That’s amazing, thank you. It’s definitely a quirky record. With this album, I felt like I sort of gave myself permission to revisit older themes that I used to write about, maybe look at them with fresh eyes. And to revisit older instruments — older in terms of when I used to use them. Because when I was making 1989, I was so obsessed with it being this concept of Eighties big pop, whether it was Eighties in its production or Eighties in its nature, just having these big choruses — being unapologetically big. And then Reputation, there was a reason why I had it all in lowercase. I felt like it wasn’t unapologetically commercial. It’s weird, because that is the album that took the most amount of explanation, and yet it’s the one I didn’t talk about. In the Reputation secret sessions I kind of had to explain to my fans, “I know we’re doing a new thing here that I’d never done before.” I’d never played with characters before. For a lot of pop stars, that’s a really fun trick, where they’re like, “This is my alter ego.” I had never played with that before. It’s really fun. And it was just so fun to play with on tour — the darkness and the bombast and the bitterness and the love and the ups and the downs of an emotional-turmoil record.

“Daylight” is a beautiful song. It feels like it could have been the title track. It almost was. I thought it might be a little bit too sentimental.

And I guess maybe too on-the-nose. Right, yeah, way too on-the-nose. That’s what I thought, because I was kind of in my head referring to the album as Daylight for a while. But Lover, to me, was a more interesting title, more of an accurate theme in my head, and more elastic as a concept. That’s why “You Need to Calm Down” can make sense within the theme of the album — one of the things it addresses is how certain people are not allowed to live their lives without discrimination just based on who they love.

For the more organic songs on this album, like “Lover” and “Paper Rings,” you said you were imagining a wedding band playing them. How often does that kind of visualization shape a song’s production style? Sometimes I’ll have a strange sort of fantasy of where the songs would be played. And so for songs like “Paper Rings” or “Lover” I was imagining a wedding-reception band, but in the Seventies, so they couldn’t play instruments that wouldn’t have been invented yet. I have all these visuals. For Reputation, it was nighttime cityscape. I didn’t really want any — or very minimal — traditional acoustic instruments. I imagined old warehouse buildings that had been deserted and factory spaces and all this industrial kind of imagery. So I wanted the production to have nothing wooden. There’s no wood floors on that album. Lover is, like, completely just a barn wood floor and some ripped curtains flowing in the breeze, and fields of flowers and, you know, velvet.

How did you come to use high school metaphors to touch on politics with “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince”? There are so many influences that go into that particular song. I wrote it a couple of months after midterm elections, and I wanted to take the idea of politics and pick a metaphorical place for that to exist. And so I was thinking about a traditional American high school, where there’s all these kinds of social events that could make someone feel completely alienated. And I think a lot of people in our political landscape are just feeling like we need to huddle up under the bleachers and figure out a plan to make things better.

I feel like your Fall Out Boy fandom might’ve slipped out in that title. I love Fall Out Boy so much. Their songwriting really influenced me, lyrically, maybe more than anyone else. They take a phrase and they twist it. “Loaded God complex/Cock it and pull it”? When I heard that, I was like, “I’m dreaming.”

You sing about “American stories burning before me.” Do you mean the illusions of what America is? It’s about the illusions of what I thought America was before our political landscape took this turn, and that naivete that we used to have about it. And it’s also the idea of people who live in America, who just want to live their lives, make a living, have a family, love who they love, and watching those people lose their rights, or watching those people feel not at home in their home. I have that line “I see the high-fives between the bad guys” because not only are some really racist, horrific undertones now becoming overtones in our political climate, but the people who are representing those concepts and that way of looking at the world are celebrating loudly, and it’s horrific.

You’re in this weird place of being a blond, blue-eyed pop star in this era — to the point where until you endorsed some Democratic candidates, right-wingers, and worse, assumed you were on their side. I don’t think they do anymore. Yeah, that was jarring, and I didn’t hear about that until after it had happened. Because at this point, I, for a very long time, I didn’t have the internet on my phone, and my team and my family were really worried about me because I was not in a good place. And there was a lot of stuff that they just dealt with without telling me about it. Which is the only time that’s ever happened in my career. I’m always in the pilot seat, trying to fly the plane that is my career in exactly the direction I want to take it. But there was a time when I just had to throw my hands up and say, “Guys, I can’t. I can’t do this. I need you to just take over for me and I’m just going to disappear.”

Are you referring to when a white-supremacist site suggested you were on their team? I didn’t even see that, but, like, if that happened, that’s just disgusting. There’s literally nothing worse than white supremacy. It’s repulsive. There should be no place for it. Really, I keep trying to learn as much as I can about politics, and it’s become something I’m now obsessed with, whereas before, I was living in this sort of political ambivalence, because the person I voted for had always won. We were in such an amazing time when Obama was president because foreign nations respected us. We were so excited to have this dignified person in the White House. My first election was voting for him when he made it into office, and then voting to re-elect him. I think a lot of people are like me, where they just didn’t really know that this could happen. But I’m just focused on the 2020 election. I’m really focused on it. I’m really focused on how I can help and not hinder. Because I also don’t want it to backfire again, because I do feel that the celebrity involvement with Hillary’s campaign was used against her in a lot of ways.

You took a lot of heat for not getting involved. Does any part of you regret that you just didn’t say “fuck it” and gotten more specific when you said to vote that November? Totally. Yeah, I regret a lot of things all the time. It’s like a daily ritual.

Were you just convinced that it would backfire? That’s literally what it was. Yeah. It’s a very powerful thing when you legitimately feel like numbers have proven that pretty much everyone hates you. Like, quantifiably. That’s not me being dramatic. And you know that.

There were a lot of people in those stadiums. It’s true. But that was two years later. . . . I do think, as a party, we need to be more of a team. With Republicans, if you’re wearing that red hat, you’re one of them. And if we’re going to do anything to change what’s happening, we need to stick together. We need to stop dissecting why someone’s on our side or if they’re on our side in the right way or if they phrased it correctly. We need to not have the right kind of Democrat and the wrong kind of Democrat. We need to just be like, “You’re a Democrat? Sick. Get in the car. We’re going to the mall.”

Here’s a hard question for you: As a superfan, what did you think of the Game of Thrones finale? Oh, my God. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. So, clinically our brain responds to our favorite show ending the same way we feel when a breakup occurs. I read that. There’s no good way for it to end. No matter what would have happened in that finale, people still would have been really upset because of the fact that it’s over.

I was glad to see you confirm that your line about a “list of names” was a reference to Arya. I like to be influenced by movies and shows and books and stuff. I love to write about a character dynamic. And not all of my life is going to be as kind of complex as these intricate webs of characters on TV shows and movies.

There was a time when it was. That’s amazing.

But is the idea that as your own life becomes less dramatic, you’ll need to pull ideas from other places? I don’t feel like that yet. I think I might feel like that possibly when I have a family. If I have a family. [Pauses] I don’t know why I said that! But that’s what I’ve heard from other artists, that they were very protective of their personal life, so they had to draw inspiration from other things. But again, I don’t know why I said that. Because I don’t know how my life is going to go or what I’m going to do. But right now, I feel like it’s easier for me to write than it ever was.

You don’t talk about your relationship, but you’ll sing about it in wildly revealing detail. What’s the difference for you? Singing about something helps you to express it in a way that feels more accurate. You cannot, no matter what, put words in a quote and have it move someone the same way as if you heard those words with the perfect sonic representation of that feeling... There is that weird conflict in being a confessional songwriter and then also having my life, you know, 10 years ago, be catapulted into this strange pop-culture thing.

I’ve heard you say that people got too interested in which song was about who, which I can understand — at the same time, to be fair, it was a game you played into, wasn’t it? I realized very early on that no matter what, that was going to happen to me regardless. So when you realize the rules of the game you’re playing and how it will affect you, you got to look at the board and make your strategy. But at the same time, writing songs has never been a strategic element of my career. But I’m not scared anymore to say that other things in my career, like how to market an album, are strictly strategic. And I’m sick of women not being able to say that they have strategic business minds — because male artists are allowed to. And so I’m sick and tired of having to pretend like I don’t mastermind my own business. But, it’s a different part of my brain than I use to write.

You’ve been masterminding your business since you were a teenager. Yeah, but I’ve also tried very hard — and this is one thing I regret — to convince people that I wasn’t the one holding the puppet strings of my marketing existence, or the fact that I sit in a conference room several times a week and come up with these ideas. I felt for a very long time that people don’t want to think of a woman in music who isn’t just a happy, talented accident. We’re all forced to kind of be like, “Aw, shucks, this happened again! We’re still doing well! Aw, that’s so great.” Alex Morgan celebrating scoring a goal at the World Cup and getting shit for it is a perfect example of why we’re not allowed to flaunt or celebrate, or reveal that, like, “Oh, yeah, it was me. I came up with this stuff.” I think it’s really unfair. People love new female artists so much because they’re able to explain that woman’s success. There’s an easy trajectory. Look at the Game of Thrones finale. I specifically really related to Daenerys’ storyline because for me it portrayed that it is a lot easier for a woman to attain power than to maintain it.

I mean, she did murder... It’s a total metaphor! Like, obviously I didn’t want Daenerys to become that kind of character, but in taking away what I chose to take away from it, I thought maybe they’re trying to portray her climbing the ladder to the top was a lot easier than maintaining it, because for me, the times when I felt like I was going insane was when I was trying to maintain my career in the same way that I ascended. It’s easier to get power than to keep it. It’s easier to get acclaim than to keep it. It’s easier to get attention than to keep it.

Well, I guess we should be glad you didn’t have a dragon in 2016... [Fiercely] I told you I don’t like that she did that! But, I mean, watching the show, though, maybe this is a reflection on how we treat women in power, how we are totally going to conspire against them and tear at them until they feel this — this insane shift, where you wonder, like, “What changed?” And I’ve had that happen, like, 60 times in my career where I’m like, “OK, you liked me last year, what changed? I guess I’ll change so I can keep entertaining you guys.”

You once said that your mom could never punish you when you were little because you’d punish yourself. This idea of changing in the face of criticism and needing approval — that’s all part of wanting to be good, right? Whatever that means. But that seems to be a real driving force in your life. Yeah, that’s definitely very perceptive of you. And the question posed to me is, if you kept trying to do good things, but everyone saw those things in a cynical way and assumed them to be done with bad motivation and bad intent, would you still do good things, even though nothing that you did was looked at as good? And the answer is, yes. Criticism that’s constructive is helpful to my character growth. Baseless criticism is stuff I’ve got to toss out now.

That sounds healthy. Is this therapy talking or is this just experience? No, I’ve never been to therapy. I talk to my mom a lot, because my mom is the one who’s seen everything. God, it takes so long to download somebody on the last 29 years of my life, and my mom has seen it all. She knows exactly where I’m coming from. And we talk endlessly. There were times when I used to have really, really, really bad days where we would just be on the phone for hours and hours and hours. I’d write something that I wanted to say, and instead of posting it, I’d just read it to her.

I somehow connect all this to the lyric in “Daylight,” the idea of “so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven” — it’s a different kind of confession. I am really glad you liked that line, because that’s something that does bother me, looking back at life and realizing that no matter what, you screw things up. Sometimes there are people that were in your life and they’re not anymore — and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t fix it, you can’t change it. I told the fans last night that sometimes on my bad days, I feel like my life is a pile of crap accumulated of only the bad headlines or the bad things that have happened, or the mistakes I’ve made or clichés or rumors or things that people think about me or have thought for the last 15 years. And that was part of the “Look What You Made Me Do” music video, where I had a pile of literal old selves fighting each other.

But, yeah, that line is indicative of my anxiety about how in life you can’t get everything right. A lot of times you make the wrong call, make the wrong decision. Say the wrong thing. Hurt people, even if you didn’t mean to. You don’t really know how to fix all of that. When it’s, like, 29 years’ worth.

To be Mr. “Rolling Stone” for a second, there’s a Springsteen lyric, “Ain’t no one leaving this world, buddy/Without their shirttail dirty or hands a little bloody.” That’s really good! No one gets through it unscathed. No one gets through in one piece. I think that’s a hard thing for a lot of people to grasp. I know it was hard for me, because I kind of grew up thinking, “If I’m nice, and if I try to do the right thing, you know, maybe I can just, like, ace this whole thing.” And it turns out I can’t.

It’s interesting to look at “I Did Something Bad” in this context. You pointing that out is really interesting because it’s something I’ve had to reconcile within myself in the last couple of years — that sort of “good” complex. Because from the time I was a kid I’d try to be kind, be a good person. Try really hard. But you get walked all over sometimes. And how do you respond to being walked all over? You can’t just sit there and eat your salad and let it happen. “I Did Something Bad” was about doing something that was so against what I would usually do. Katy [Perry] and I were talking about our signs. . . . [Laughs] Of course we were.

That’s the greatest sentence ever. [Laughs] I hate you. We were talking about our signs because we had this really, really long talk when we were reconnecting and stuff. And I remember in the long talk, she was like, “If we had one glass of white wine right now, we’d both be crying.” Because we were drinking tea. We’ve had some really good conversations.

We were talking about how we’ve had miscommunications with people in the past, not even specifically with each other. She’s like, “I’m a Scorpio. Scorpios just strike when they feel threatened.” And I was like, “Well, I’m an archer. We literally stand back, assess the situation, process how we feel about it, raise a bow, pull it back, and fire.” So it’s completely different ways of processing pain, confusion, misconception. And oftentimes I’ve had this delay in feeling something that hurts me and then saying that it hurts me. Do you know what I mean? And so I can understand how people in my life would have been like, “Whoa, I didn’t know that was how you felt.” Because it takes me a second.

If you watch the video of the 2009 VMAs, I literally freeze. I literally stand there. And that is how I handle any discomfort, any pain. I stand there, I freeze. And then five minutes later, I know how I feel. But in the moment, I’m probably overreacting and I should be nice. Then I process it, and in five minutes, if it’s gone, it’s past, and I’m like, “I was overreacting, everything’s fine. I can get through this. I’m glad I didn’t say anything harsh in the moment.” But when it’s actually something bad that happened, and I feel really, really hurt or upset about it, I only know after the fact. Because I’ve tried so hard to squash it: “This probably isn’t what you think.” That’s something I had to work on.

You could end up gaslighting yourself. Yeah, for sure. ’Cause so many situations where if I would have said the first thing that came to my mind, people would have been like, “Whoa!” And maybe I would have been wrong or combative. So a couple of years ago I started working on actually just responding to my emotions in a quicker fashion. And it’s really helped with stuff. It’s helped so much because sometimes you get in arguments. But conflict in the moment is so much better than combat after the fact.

Well, thanks. I do feel like I just did a therapy session. As someone who’s never been to therapy, I can safely say that was the best therapy session.