#bernie taupin imagine

[chickensoup1025]

Fake dating trope for oumota would go so hard cause they're both amazing actors.

[rocketrecord]

From Jackie issues 497 and 498, published 14th and 21st of July 1973. Transcription under the cut because why not

PART ONE: THE first time I met Elton John's mother, Sheila, she was busy making baked beans on toast for everyone who was visiting his house, Hercules, on the Wentworth estate just outside London.

Elton quickly explained that baked beans on toast, no matter how successful he was these days, was still one of his favourite meals!

Elton's mother is now moving to a house nearby, so she doesn't have to travel so far to see him.

Also when Elton is away, as he frequently is these days, his mother always stays in his home to look after it for him.

Sheila remembers her son's expertise at cooking when he was younger. She may now still cook him a quick beans on toast, and John Reid his manager and friend may make the grander meals, but Elton used to be and still is an expert at baking.

"When he was at school and I was out at work I often used to come home and find the kitchen full of flour and pots and pans, and there were all these cakes!"

Elton's mother remembers too that he first started playing the piano at an amazingly early age.

"He was playing all the pop tunes when he was three. We used to send him to bed, then he'd get up and play at family parties. The funny thing is that I can't play the piano myself, but my father played old military music

"When he was a bit irritated as a baby my husband would let him beat on the piano -Elton's little legs used to be hanging from the piano stool! In those days, of course, you weren't allowed to perform in public before you were 13 years old. I think without that law he could have been a child star. He could have won several talent shows I'm sure.

"It was when he was about eight years-old that he lost interest in music totally because he had the wrong teacher, but I managed to find a new one when he was 10 or 11 years old and she let him play all the pop stuff. I think other people had been forcing him into the classics when all he wanted to do was play pop. It just seemed to go very, very well after that and he took an interest again."

Even now Elton's mother plays a part in his musical career.

He always plays me over tapes of new material that he and Bernie Taupin have put together, and asks me what I think would make the right single."

Elton has alwas been very close to his mother, and they were talking eagerly about the “grand opening” of his new swimming pool. The pool is beside his large lounge and has been almost a year in the making.

Sheila's favourite Elton John album? Appropriately it's called the Elton John album!

"I love sad music," she told me.

"'Elton's alwavs been a sensitive and thoughtful person, and this comes out in his songs-particularly on that album. I've always enjoyed a good cry at films and things.

Even her house was named after an Elton John song track, Hienton." It was gold lettered on wood and Sheila is so devoted to it, that it's being moved to her new home at the back of Elton's.

Another person in Elton's life is moving closer to him as well:

Bernie Taupin, the man who writes all the words in Elton's songs.

Until recently Bernie insisted on staying up at his little cottage in Lincolnshire but has now been persuaded to move nearer to Elton so they can work more easily.

When we met, Bernie and Elton were just preparing to go to France and record at the same chateau where they made their album Honky Chateau.

"There will be a lot more rock'n' roll on the next album." Elton assured me.

Elton always keeps a sense of humour when he's talking about himself.

I’m not exactly your thin. lean, lank pop star," he laughed. hated my hair when it was long. So I had it all cut short and just lately I've had some green streaks added to each side just above my ears.

I think that mould green and orange go together!

"I guess I see myself as cuddly - certainly not sexy! I imagine that's why the audiences never try to rip my clothes off. Mind you, it's lovely because I've always had. young fans, especially up North.”

Elton told me of a recent dinner he'd had with a hero of his--the famous American comedian Groucho Marx, who was one of the Marx Brothers, whose films are often seen on television. Groucho is the one with the large black hat, moustache and cigar and the funny walk.

"It was while I was over in California and was renting a house at Malibu Beach. He agreed to come to dinner and although it was 100 degrees outside, they said that as he was now an old man he'd want a log fire burning in-doors. So we had to light one.

"He sat down in the lounge in his coat and his beret and insisted on calling me John Elton. He was amazing - you never quite knew whether he was taking the mickey out of everything

"Then I also met another famous old screen star Mae West. She was incredible. She must be eighty if she's a day!"

At his home Elton keeps two dogs. Bruce, the alsatian and Brian, a spaniel, and he's bought his mother Sheila a Yorkshire terrier called Fanny.

Whenever you call there they're apt to come bounding in from the garden demanding attention-especially from Elton, because he has to be away from home so much, they like a lot of his time when he is there.

Usually when guests are at his house they have to be kept out of the way, but they were allowed to bound into the room on one big occasion recently. That was when David Cassidy, his lifelong friend Sam Hyman and Rod Stewart came to dinner.

"David has his own dogs," ex-plained Elton, "and he was delighted to meet mine. They immediately sensed he liked dogs and made a great fuss of him.”

Next Week: The dinner party with David and Rod.

PART TWO: THE pop dinner party of the year took place at Elton John's house 'Hercules? on the Wentworth estate in Surrey, just outside London.

There was Elton, and there was Rod Stewart and there was . . . David Cassidy!

It was Elton's idea to get all three pop stars together during David's recent tour. He'd met David in California last summer and the two singers have become close friends.

David's visit to Elton was the closest kept secret of his tour. And one of the biggest attractions was Elton's jukebox, which he keeps in his large games room at the front of the house. Elton keeps the jukebox stocked with the current top twenty in America and England as well as some golden oldies. And David especially liked playing those old Beatles favourites, like Love Me Do. Please, Please Me and Yellow Submarine.

Elton let me into a secret: "I had an idea during David's tour that it would be nice to join him up on stage and play the piano for him. It never worked out but I thought it was a way of showing him how much ! liked him and liked his work. A lot of people knock him but I think he's very talented.

However, Elton may yet write some songs for David.

"Now I've got a record company, which I've called Rocket Records. I'm producing and I've written a song for Kiki Dee. I'd always written for myself before, and now I'm starting to write for other people, I don't see why I shouldn't try and do something for David. In fact I've written three songs for Kiki, so Bernie, who writes the words, has had to imagine he's a girl for those songs!"

Rod Stewart had told Elton that he'd like to meet David so Elton thought the dinner would be a golden opportunity.

Another guest at the top level dinner party was David's friend since schooldays, Sam Hyman, who flew over to Britain for the last few days of the tour. Completing the party was Elton's friend and manager John Reid, who did all the cooking!

What was the menu? A good English meal of roast beef followed by strawberries and ice crear with coffee and pear brandy to finish. The guests had red wine with their main course. Elton says the evening was very high spirited with David not leaving until four in the morning!

"I think David is really great," said Elton.

"He really works as hard as a navvy, you know. He's certainly not an idiot. He knows me now, but when I first met him he was so paranoid: he'd shut himself in his house for a year and a half because he was scared to go out in case he got ripped to shreds!

"When he came down for dinner he was completely at home, playing records and joking although he was very tired because it was at the end of his tour. He did ask me to write something for him and I'd really like to.

"There is such an awful barrier because he is a pop star. You have either to be a heavy group like Led Zeppelin or a pop star.

But what people don't realise is that he's a very good musician. The reason why I'd have liked to have appeared with him is because I'd like to have made a gesture to show that I appreciate his talent. I hate these musical barriers in pop music.

Elton has been spending this month in America on holiday.

“I like to go out there to California for a rest once a year. I'lI probably see David again then, although he's started work on 'The Partridge Family' again which means he works eighteen hours a day- he has to go into the recording studios when he's finished up at the film set. As I said, he works amazingly hard.

"I love Los Angeles, just for a month.

I just sit by the pool, go surfing and once a day I go up to Sunset Strip and visit the most fabulous record shop in the world called Tower Records. It's like a warehouse and has all these piles of albums. It seems to have every record in the world, past and present.

"I mostly look for ridiculous things, spoken word records and things like that literally every day. I reckon to spend half an hour a day there. I think I hold the record for record buying there. 6,500 dollars worth in a day! That was on albums and tapes.

“I’ve got this record library at home and I fancy myself as an amateur dise jockey. I did the Noel Edmonds show last Christmas, Boxing Day actually and we did the show together. I really enjoyed that.

“I catalogue everything in my collection: cross filed and everything! I'm a terrible collector of things. Actually I'm the sort of person who's got 700 bottles of Marmite and the same of Windolene."

Elton remains one of the friendliest of pop stars. It is typical of him that he has befriended David Cassidy, because he knows that stardom can bring loneliness, and also jealousy from other musicians. He went out of his way to help David and the dinner invitation was typical, also the fact that he saw that Rod Stewart was there too.

When we met, Elton was wearing a plum velvet jacket with musical notes embroidered on it. He's known for his wild clothes: in fact he can be said to have been a leader in the brighter clothes approach to pop with his gigantic platform soles and heels, his dungarees, and now he promises the wildest pair of glasses ever seen on stage.

"They plug in and have the words ELTON across them in neon! I'd also like to get into funny things like padded suits. You see, I haven't really got the sexiest body in the world so I like to have comedy in my act.

"When I toured America last, I had a tap dancer called Legs Larry Smith who used to come on stage. He was the only person who kept me sane. I get terribly bored when things get too serious.

"I have a lady called Annie who makes all my clothes. I just tell her any ideas I have and she does some drawings for me to choose from."

On the little finger on his right hand he was wearing an enormous sparkling ring.

"That's what I call my Liberace ring. It was bought at Cartier's as a present for me and it's made of gold and diamonds. It's sparkly and it's fun!'

And that's just about how you could describe Elton himself!

[sweetpaintedladie]

We may have built our mutual affinity for each other on a bedrock of music and contemporary culture, but we came from decidedly different backgrounds that would eventually define our carbon footprint in the world. Happy childhood, unhappy childhood, it's easy to understand how Reg, an only child under the thumb of an emotionally remote and domineering father would find solace in the friendship of me, the product of a carefree and affectionate adolescence. I was the imaginary brother who became a reality, and I can only imagine that Reg realized, and was relieved, that what he had wished for was a real friend rather than a temporary lover.

- Bernie Taupin on his early friendship with Elton John, Scattershot (2023)

[thekidsarentalright]

saw someone a bit ago compare pete and patrick to elton john and bernie taupin (his long time lyricist/collaborator) and that is actually such an incredible comparison like. imagine trusting someone with your heart that much. imagine having such a complex relationship that goes deeper than just friendship because one is constantly baring their soul to the other through their art. like at that point it's a soul bond that goes beyond platonic or romantic labels. artistic compatibility and trust like that is just so rare and both pairs have it and it's so beautiful to see both the relationship and the art that comes from it

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday musician Davey Johnstone, who forged a career of over 50 years as Elton John;s guitarist.

Born David William Logan Johnstone  on this day 1951 in Edinburgh, Davey was having a perfectly fine career in the folk music world before he was whisked away to a life of rock and roll with one of the worlds biggest “pop” stars Elton John.

Having moved to London in 1968, Davey got his first album credit that year on the Noel Murphy LP, Another Round. Noel and Davey then formed the band Draught Porridge in 1969. In 1970 Davey played on the album Seasons by Magna Carta and in 1971 joined that group as second guitarist. Their next album, Songs From Wasties Orchard, was helmed by Elton’s producer, Gus Dudgeon.Gus asked Davey to contribute to Bernie Taupin’s solo album in 1971. Davey played guitar, sitar, banjo, mandolin and lute while Bernie read his poetry aloud. 

Soon after, in August 1971, Gus called upon Davey once more, this time to play acoustic guitar and mandolin parts on four songs on Elton’s Madman Across The Water album, including the intricate harmonic part that anchors the title track. A week or so later, Elton invited Davey to join the band full-time, joining drummer Nigel Olsson and bassist Dee Murray both in the studio and on stage — and thus was born the group that solidified Elton’s sound.

Since then Davey has been an indispensable part of most of Elton’s albums.Through the decades, Johnstone has squeezed in an equally impressive, varied body of work as an in-demand session player. His roster includes Stevie Nicks, Bob Seger, Alice Cooper, Rod Stewart, Meat Loaf, the Pointer Sisters, Olivia Newton-John, Judy Collins, and many others. He has also done movie music for James Newton Howard and Hans Zimmer.

Johnstone lives in Los Angeles with his wife. He has seven children.

On 10 June 2009, Johnstone played a landmark 2,000th show as a member of the Elton John Band at the SECC Glasgow , he is currently serving as John's musical director, in addition to his guitar work. I looked through the credits for the Elton John film, Rocketman, due out this month and he doesn't seem to feature in it, you will however be able to see Scotsman Richard Madden as Eltons manager John Reid, a much better casting than Irishman Aidan Gillen, who played Reid in the Freddie Mercury bio, Bohemian Rhapsody

.Johnstone recently said "I’ve Had an Amazing, Unbelievable Career”: He released a new solo album – Deeper Than My Roots, only his third solo project, from what I can gather he put the album together during the hiatus most people had during the covid pandemic.

For the musicians out there he mainly uses a Les Paul Deluxe which he bought inn 1972. As you can imagine he has used a plethora of guitars including his trusty ’72 Les Paul Deluxe, a Gibson L-5, B.B. King Lucille, a ’69 Strat, and an Ernie Ball EVH. Acoustics included a Takamine, Gibson J-200, and a late-’60s Yamaha FG-140 he played on many of John’s ’70s classics.

[wickedthiswaycomes]

〔 serkay tutuncu, 31, cis man, he/him ) Kerem Zileli was seen listening to elephant love medley from moulin rouge. Kerem is a songwriter and known to be dynamic and elusive.

general ;;

full name; kerem zileli

nicknames; 

age; 31

birthday; january 17th

zodiac; capricorn

gender/pronouns; cis man, he/him

sexual/romantic preferences; bisexual, biromantic

personality traits; dynamic, elusive, charming, 

biography ;;

fire tw, death tw

Kerem Zileli was the absolute world to his parents. They had tried for a number of years to conceive a child, so when he was born, it meant everything to them. He was a happy, vibrant child who was full of life and made friends everywhere that he went. His teachers loved him, though there were times that his teachers would call home saying that Kerem had been a tad over-exuberant in class and could his parents please talk to him about inside thoughts versus outside thoughts. 

When he got a little older, he started to really excel in his music classes-- enough so that his parents put him into voice lessons and he took up piano as well. He flourished in the spotlight that his recitals gave him and his parents adored it. Even now, the Zileli home is filled to the brim with old family videos of Kerem from age 9 to 19 performing in recitals and concerts. He still made friends easily, though at this point in his life, he had met the people that would ultimately change his life-- Selda and Hande Yilmaz. 

Kerem fell for Hande hard. They were young and a little overeager, but she reciprocated his feelings. They started to date and Kerem was convinced that she was his soulmate. He imagined the two of them five, ten, twenty years in the future and thought that there was nothing that could possibly separate them. That changed with the fire that took the lives of most of the Yilmaz family. Before he could even truly mourn their loss, his parents took Kerem and moved him far away, thinking it was the best thing for their son to be removed from the tragedy. Kerem fought against the move, but there was nothing that he could do.

As soon as he was able, Kerem left the nest, running toward...well, anything that was different than what he had known. All he had was his talent and the little bit of money that his parents tried to send him each month, but he knew that he couldn’t stay where he had been dragged to. He did what he could to support himself, playing piano for petty cash and writing his own music in the meantime. His work gained traction eventually until he was able to sell some of his songs for larger and larger amounts and soon enough, he was able to send money back to his parents. 

He excelled at writing romantic ballads even though he had long since become jaded to them himself. He truly believed that Hande was the love of his life-- how could he possibly move on from her? Sure, he found others to fill a certain void in his life, but he refused to give anyone else what he reserved exclusively for Hande. 

headcanons ;;

Due to his parents moving the family so soon after the Yilmaz fire, Kerem was never told about the birth of Ozan Yilmaz. Surprise! He has a son that he’s never known about. When he later reconnected with Selda, he figured that Ozan was just a younger sibling of Selda’s. 

wanted connections ;;

An ex - While Kerem has avoided romance for the most part since Hande’s death, he certainly slept around quite a bit. Maybe this person was a longer term situationship that Kerem refused to settle in and commit to. Maybe it ended really poorly or maybe they managed to stay somewhat friendly. 

Partner / Collaborator - Maybe Kerem writes the music and this person performs but they work together on most of it. I’m thinking Bernie Taupin and Elton John. 

more to come I am sure

[calipsan]

Elton John and Bernie Taupin are clearly huge fans. Only fans could have written this musical. I like to imagine that the book The Vampire Lestat really spoke to Elton John because of the parallels between his life and Lestat’s.

[taletheoldcrowtold]

Pride 2024 - Day 13

Movie: Rocketman

Made in: 2019 – Set in: 1950s – 1980s

Starring: Taron Egerton, Jamie Bell, Richard Madden, Bryce Dallas Howard, Steven Mackintosh, Kit Conner, Stephen Graham, Charlie Rowe

Rated R for: Drug use, sexual content, language, attempted suicide

A musical biopic following the life of Elton John from when he was a boy named Reginald Dwight to when he met Bernie Taupin and became a big star.

A story that shows how someone quiet and simple can be rocketed into drugs and glam by someone else. It’s a heartbreaking story that shows neglect of a more subtle kind and how it shapes someone in seemingly little ways. Also be sure to stick around for the credits where they show clips from the movie and compare them to the events/outfits they are based off (which I missed when I watched this with my mom).

Spoilers under Keep Reading Line

No one dies in the movie and it has an uplifting ending

Since biofics have a tendency to change facts and events for the sake of the story, and I don’t know Elton John enough to know what isn’t true, I’m just going to separate the film from reality and judge it as a movie. It’s a tragic story, showing a young Elton John being neglected by his father and emotionally abused by his mother. His one good person in his life is his grandmother, who always encourages him to follow his dreams. There is a lot of songs throughout the film but they tell a story when they show up (which is probably why they might be sung before they were historically written) and it’s nice to see them serve a purpose besides just having the singer stand on a stage and sing it. There were moments of surrealism, which I feel was the imagination of Elton John and they aren’t too strange that they stick out in the movie. It is sad to see the path of drugs and alcohol Elton goes down but looking at his childhood, it is almost expected as he has no real idea what is love and what is just tolerance. I liked the friendship between Elton and Bernie and thought the acting and singing was nicely done. And I liked toward the end when Elton, in his head, spoke to all the people in his life and stood up to those who hurt him. Then in the end hugging his child self, who never got such a gesture from his father.

Mom: If you are an Elton John fan, you’re in for a treat. The movie has a number of his more recognizable songs (“Rocketman”, “Tiny Dancer”, to name a couple) and could be classified more or less as a musical. A reoccurring theme with many of the people in the LGBTQ+ movies we have watched so far is that they each had at least one crappy, unloving parent (with the possible exception of Simon in Love Simon and Ellio in Call Me By Your Name) who make their childhood miserable. Elton John is no exception. Both of his parents criticized him and seemed to not be able to love him unconditionally. When he became famous and a multimillionaire, his mother seemed only interested in what he could give her monetarily and his father showed more love to the two sons of his second marriage than he’d ever shown toward Elton. One of the things I liked about the movie was when Elton said he was tired of having to be someone he wasn’t and told his parents he was not going to let them speak to him anymore with disrespect. The movie has an uplifting ending with a note that Elton was able to find someone who loved him properly, something his mother told him at one point he would never have.

[dan6085]

Creating a list of the top 50 songwriters of all time involves a combination of factors, including the number of songs written, their influence on music, and the popularity of their compositions. Here’s a list with brief details on each:

1. **Paul McCartney**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Yesterday," "Hey Jude," "Let It Be."

2. **John Lennon**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Imagine," "Strawberry Fields Forever," "Come Together."

3. **Bob Dylan**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Like a Rolling Stone," "Blowin' in the Wind," "The Times They Are A-Changin'."

4. **Carole King**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 400.

- **Popular Compositions**: "You've Got a Friend," "It's Too Late," "Natural Woman."

5. **Paul Simon**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "The Sound of Silence," "Bridge Over Troubled Water," "Mrs. Robinson."

6. **Leonard Cohen**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 150.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Hallelujah," "Suzanne," "Bird on the Wire."

7. **Stevie Wonder**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Superstition," "Isn't She Lovely," "I Just Called to Say I Love You."

8. **Joni Mitchell**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "A Case of You," "Big Yellow Taxi," "Both Sides, Now."

9. **Elton John (with Bernie Taupin)**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 400.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Your Song," "Rocket Man," "Candle in the Wind."

10. **Bruce Springsteen**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Born to Run," "Thunder Road," "Dancing in the Dark."

11. **Brian Wilson**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 150.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Good Vibrations," "God Only Knows," "California Girls."

12. **Smokey Robinson**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 4,000.

- **Popular Compositions**: "The Tracks of My Tears," "My Girl," "Tears of a Clown."

13. **Willie Nelson**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 2,500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Crazy," "On the Road Again," "Always on My Mind."

14. **Dolly Parton**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 3,000.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Jolene," "I Will Always Love You," "9 to 5."

15. **Burt Bacharach**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head," "What the World Needs Now Is Love," "I Say a Little Prayer."

16. **Irving Berlin**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 1,500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "White Christmas," "God Bless America," "Blue Skies."

17. **Holland-Dozier-Holland**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 400.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Stop! In the Name of Love," "How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)," "You Can't Hurry Love."

18. **Prince**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 600.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Purple Rain," "When Doves Cry," "1999."

19. **Jimmy Webb**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Wichita Lineman," "MacArthur Park," "By the Time I Get to Phoenix."

20. **Lennon-McCartney**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 180 as a duo.

- **Popular Compositions**: "A Hard Day's Night," "Eleanor Rigby," "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

21. **James Taylor**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Fire and Rain," "Carolina in My Mind," "You've Got a Friend."

22. **Neil Young**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 400.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Heart of Gold," "Old Man," "Rockin' in the Free World."

23. **David Bowie**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Space Oddity," "Heroes," "Starman."

24. **Tom Petty**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Free Fallin'," "American Girl," "I Won't Back Down."

25. **Kurt Cobain**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Smells Like Teen Spirit," "Come As You Are," "Heart-Shaped Box."

26. **Johnny Cash**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "I Walk the Line," "Ring of Fire," "Folsom Prison Blues."

27. **Gerry Goffin and Carole King**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200 as a duo.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Will You Love Me Tomorrow," "The Loco-Motion," "One Fine Day."

28. **Don Henley and Glenn Frey**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100 together.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Hotel California," "Take It Easy," "Desperado."

29. **George Gershwin**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 500.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Rhapsody in Blue," "Summertime," "I Got Rhythm."

30. **Bernie Taupin**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300 (mostly with Elton John).

- **Popular Compositions**: "Your Song," "Rocket Man," "Tiny Dancer."

31. **Tom Waits**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Ol' '55," "Jersey Girl," "Downtown Train."

32. **Robbie Robertson**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100.

- **Popular Compositions**: "The Weight," "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," "Up on Cripple Creek."

33. **Chuck Berry**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Johnny B. Goode," "Roll Over Beethoven," "Maybellene."

34. **Patti Smith**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Because the Night," "Gloria," "Dancing Barefoot."

35. **Rod Stewart**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Maggie May," "Forever Young," "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?"

36. **Phil Spector**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Be My Baby," "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'," "Unchained Melody."

37. **Otis Redding**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay," "Respect," "Try a Little Tenderness."

38. **Barry Gibb (Bee Gees)**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 1,000.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Stayin' Alive," "How Deep Is Your Love," "Night Fever."

39. **Lou Reed**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Walk on the Wild Side," "Perfect Day," "Sweet Jane."

40. **Lucinda Williams**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 150.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Passionate Kisses," "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road," "Can't Let Go."

41. **Jim Croce**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown," "Time in a Bottle," "Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels)."

42. **Gordon Lightfoot**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "If You Could Read My Mind," "Sundown," "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."

43. **Jimmy Page and Robert Plant**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100 as a duo.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Stairway to Heaven," "Kashmir," "Whole Lotta Love."

44. **Mick Jagger and Keith Richards**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200 as a duo.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Satisfaction," "Paint It Black," "Angie."

45. **Jackson Browne**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Running on Empty," "Doctor My Eyes," "The Pretender."

46. **Peter Gabriel**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Solsbury Hill," "In Your Eyes," "Sledgehammer."

47. **Van Morrison**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 300.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Brown Eyed Girl," "Moondance," "Into the Mystic."

48. **T-Bone Burnett**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "River of Love," "Shut It Tight," "Humans from Earth."

49. **Patti Scialfa**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 100.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Talk to Me Like the Rain," "Spanish Dancer," "Come Tomorrow."

50. **Allen Toussaint**

- **Songs Written/Co-Written**: Over 200.

- **Popular Compositions**: "Southern Nights," "Working in the Coal Mine," "Yes We Can Can."

This list highlights a diverse array of songwriters across various genres, each contributing significantly to the landscape of popular music with their extensive catalogs and timeless hits.

These songwriters have left an indelible mark on the music industry with their prolific and influential bodies of work. Their compositions have spanned decades, genres, and generations, making them some of the most revered figures in music history.

[words-minds-life]

When Anger Shatters

My anger was a glass elevator,

rising like hot steam,

trapping me in ways I could not see.

The cage eventually broke

into sugary shards.

I played Elton John

and imagined dancing in the stars.

I danced my way back to earth

singing:

“I think it’s gonna be a long, long time

‘Til touch down brings me

round again, oh no no....”  

-Kathleen WML with lyrics by Elton John and Bernie Taupin

[multiverseofimagines]

📷 ;

bernie taupin, 1971 , colourized

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Meet cute 1 and speech 23 with bernie please? Love your drabbles!

Thank you so much! Glad you like my blurbs :)

Speech 23 - “Dance with me”

Meet Cute 1 - You had an assigned seat next to them at a wedding for a mutual friend

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

Y/N couldn’t help but groan internally when she wandered up to the table she was assigned to. Table 3, the table for close friends of the bride or groom. Table 2 was reserved for family members, table 1 for members of the wedding party. Table 3 was a good place for her to be.

But everyone at the table was a couple. And Y/N wanted to stab her own eyes out at the sight of that.

She hated weddings. When she was younger she loved them, finding them romantic and wonderful and magical and she loved attending those of her friends and family members.

But now she despised them. Because all of her closest friends were already either married or engaged and she was the one left out of that - the spinster of the friendship group. And she never normally minded, she was the ‘fun aunt’ of her friend’s kids and she adored being able to spend time with children without having to deal with the literal shit that came with them.

But at weddings it was awful because everyone expected her to be planning hers.

“Oh Y/N! I didn’t realise you were attending!” Y/N how wondered the knives supplied were when she heard the all-too familiar voice of Mary, a friend of a friend who always happened to be attending the same events as Y/N.

Y/N wondered if Mary had been put on the Earth simply to remind Y/N of her perpetual aloneness.

“Hello Mary,” Y/N restrained herself from rolling her eyes as she took her seat.

“Still alone?” Mary inquired and the question would have seemed innocent enough if it weren’t for the smile she had badly hidden.

“Do I look like I’m with anyone?” Y/N questioned in response before turning away from Mary to look at the man next to her, who was clearly trying to hold back a smile. “Is my isolation funny to you?” She asked him, but she smiled as she said it to let him know that she was only teasing.

“Only because I relate,” the man assured her. “I’m Bernie.”

“Y/N,” she took his outstretched hand. “Friend of the bride?” She questioned.

“Yeah, we went to primary school together,” he confirmed. “Friend of the groom?” Y/N nodded.

“Same situation.” Y/N took the glass of alcohol from in front of her and sipped it before pulling a face. “You know, they really could have supplied more pleasant alcohol for people like me who are planning on drinking their way through the evening.” Bernie burst out in laughter, setting the tone for the remainder of the meal.

When they had all finished eating, Y/N was approached by one of her friend’s daughters who demanded Y/N come and dance with her and her friends, an order that Y/N obliged to happily, anything to get away from Mary’s snide comments. She could feel Bernie’s eyes on her the entire time she danced with the group of kids and when the song ended she moved back over to the table.

For the second time that evening, Y/N stretched out her hand to him, a hopeful smile on her face.

“Dance with me?”

Finishing blurbs from my 3K Celebration!!

[elderberrywhine]

The Sweetest - Bernie Taupin

Here it is! My first Bernie fic! I hope you all enjoy! Leave me some comments, send in requests!!

When you were in grade four and doe-eyed, wrinkled faced old ladies asked you what you wanted to be when you got older, waitress was never your answer. At one point, you wanted to be a zookeeper, then an artist, then a writer. It wasn’t that nothing stuck or kept your interest very long; although the deeper details of a job at the zoo became wholly unappealing as you grew. In fact, between shifts at the diner, you could be found scribbling stanzas of poetry on napkins or doodling on your order pad. Life had simply thrown a wrench into your hopefully optimistic, fourth grade plans. 

The diner wasn’t that bad either. While the uniform you had to wear felt unflattering, the soft blue paired well with the light yellow walls and rich-wood chairs. Al, the more heavy-set chef, was always kind and Rachel, a fellow waitress, always gave you the customers that tipped well. She would silence your protests with a wave of the hand.

“You need to get out of here, Y/N. You’re too big for this small town,” she would say. Normally, you would laugh it off, tell her she was ‘crazy’ and that you were happy right where you were. It was the truth, for the most part. Until one day, it wasn’t anymore.

That was the day Bernie Taupin walked into the diner. The bell dangling in the doorway sounded more like the singing of angels that day. He had walked up and asked for tea with two sugars in the softest voice you had ever heard. From that day on, Bernie had made an effort to stop by the diner each day. Often times he would write in his notebook and whenever you asked, Bernie would explain the song he was writing.

“What’s this one about?” You lean over the counter, eyes studying Bernie’s features with a natural curiosity. Bernie looks up, bright blue eyes meeting your gaze for a split second as you gesture towards his notebook. He shifts on the stool he is sitting on and quickly shut his notebook without missing a beat. “Jus’ some ideas, concepts. Nothing solid quite yet,” he rambles, offering you a smile for your troubles. It isn’t enough, as you quirk a brow at him worriedly.

“Well it’s something worth hiding, obviously,” you point out, “don’t want me to see?” Bernie lets out a breathy laugh, “it’s not done yet. Once it is, I promise, love, you’ll be the first to see it.”

“Hmm, alright,” you hum before sparing a glance at the clock on a nearby wall. Your shift was finally over. You quickly undid the knot of your waitress apron and hung it on a nearby peg. “You’ll have to share tomorrow, Bernie, my shift is done.”

“Really?” Bernie glanced at the clock and his eyes widened. “I guess it is late. I hope I wasn’t keeping you here.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“No, you weren’t,” you giggle, “and I wouldn’t mind sticking around for you.” Bernie’s cheeks go pink as you walk out from behind the counter. Striding over to the employees closet, you pluck your coat and bag off of your hook. Slipping the warm material over your shoulders, you walk back out to the main hub of the diner. Bernie is still there, standing beside the counter. “I could walk you home, if you like,” Bernie offers, his question so quiet you wonder if you had imagined it. When he lifts his eyes to yours, you knew that he had truly asked it.

“I would like that,” you reply, smiling, “I would like that very much.” Bernie smiles too as you walk towards the diner entrance. You push the doors open, holding them open for Bernie as he follows close behind you. 

The pair of you walk a few paces in silence, the only sounds around you the slapping of your shoes against the pavement. You had imagined moments like this before; Bernie whisking you away from the diner, but in your mind it was always forever. From the songs he wrote, you knew that he was going to go places and you wanted to be there when he did. You could only hope he wanted you to be there too.

“So,” you drawl, breaking the quiet between you, “you gonna tell me what the song is about?” You lean to the side and bump your shoulder against Bernie’s lightly. He laughs softly, shaking his head so that his long, light brown hair falls off his shoulders.

“It’s not a song yet,” he corrects, “jus’ an idea. And I’d rather talk about you instead.” The blush that overtakes your cheeks is nothing short of burning. 

“What about me? ‘M nothing special,” you chuckle lightly, although it stings. 

“I think you’re one of the most special people I’ve ever met,” Bernie says, his voice so sincere you have to stop walking. In your pause, Bernie turns to you, blue eyes scanning over your face. “And the most beautiful person, with the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Bernie,” you whisper, brows furrowing as your gaze dances along his face. There is not a trace of falsehood in his eyes, which becomes more apparent as he steps closer to you. He stands before you, so close that you can feel the heat emanating off of his body. A slightly trembling hand reaches up and traces the line of your jaw.

“Is, is this alright?” The stuttering of his gentle voice makes you smile. Nodding quickly, you tilt your neck and lean into his touch.

“More than alright,” you reply, eyes meeting Bernie’s through your lashes. Bernie takes the hint and leans closer to you, his nose grazing your own.

“What about this?” You can tell, despite his steady voice and confident tone, that Bernie was nervous. He didn’t want to cross a line with you and you smiled at his kindness.

“Just kiss me, Bernie,” you whisper playfully. Bernie grins brightly and ends up smiling into the kiss. His lips are soft and taste slightly of sugared tea as his mouth melds with yours. Your arms wrap around behind Bernie’s back, pulling him even closer. At this new angle, Bernie hums in contentment with the softness of the kiss turning more passionate until he pulls away.

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your own as he speaks. You smile, leaning up to peak his lips once more.

“You should have, yeah,” you reply, “but I didn’t mind sticking around.” Bernie laughs softly, pressing his forehead to yours with closed eyes. “It’s about you, ya know,” he whispers, eyes fluttering open after a beat. You lean back, pressing yourself against the brick wall of the building behind you. The stone is cold against your palms that still tingled with the warmth of Bernie’s skin.

“What’s about me?” You cock your head to the side and marvel at Bernie’s grin. He stays quiet, eyes never leaving your form. They blaze trails along your body, lingering on your lips until his gaze locks with yours.

“The song,” he admits finally, “I just need to put down the words.” You push yourself off against the wall and close to Bernie once more. Your hands reach up to his chest, fingers wrapping around the zipper of his brown leather jacket. 

“You’re wonderful,” you whisper before capturing Bernie’s lips in yet another kiss. Now, without a doubt, you were certain that Bernie would stick around too.

[bowieandqueen11]

This Feeling Inside / Elton John x Male!Reader Fluff

Request: I was thinking, what about the reader meeting Elton at one of his first concerts, so he goes to talk to him, and they get chatting about music and stuff, and just over the course of the conversation they both start getting kinda shy because they both realise "hey, he's cute". I'll let you decide how it ends of you write it. 😉 

This is so cute my poor heart <33

Elton lifted his platform heel off from the piano, squatting back over the stool whilst pointing out over the crowd with a bopping finger, shouting the last few la’s of Crocodile Rock. The short fringes of his hair whipping softly as he danced through the humid room, the roars of the crowd exploding in his ears like little bursts of starlight as the neon lights flash across his eyes and cut through his gaudy sunglasses, little beads gleaming around their edges like chandeliers and blinding those in the front row. Gazing out into the crowd, his step would falter slightly as he steps up to take his final bow, glitter falling off his shirt in a multicoloured multitude. However, his eyes are drawn to eager eyes that belong to a curious man near the front of the stage, his eyes widening as he shouts a final goodnight. His toothy smile grows as he throws out a big kiss, his arm falling straight into your direction as his heart begins to pound lightly in his chest, shyness beginning to churn in his stomach and make him avert his gaze as he walks off stage right behind the wing, standing with his feet tapping nervously on the floor for the encore.

Tumbling down to the stage floor after the show had finished, Elton was a mess. He had played a few shows now, and had lived with his parents for too many years, but he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt as sick to his stomach as he had when he saw you, this ethereal man, standing right in front of him, nearly in arms reach. Waving off Bernie with a nervous smile, allowing him to turn back to the bar with a knowing smirk as he waits for the two of you to hit it off from afar, Elton slowly approaches you. For a moment, he just stands there, twiddling his hands behind his back as his mind begins to click his high rubber heels against each other, making a sharp thwack thwack against the wooden floor the few remaining stragglers of the crowd were milling around. He looks at you, finding all words had been carried away by the music, and nothing was left but his constricting throat and the pit of nerves that rattle around in his stomach. From a closer perspective, even behind his rose tinted glasses, you look like the most handsome man he had ever laid eyes on.

Finally braving a small cough, before placing his hand against his chest with what he could only hope was a perfectly reasonable pass for a smile, he finally catches your attention, and you whirl away from your friends who watch with wide eyes as Elton raises a hand.

‘My name is Elton John. It’s-it’s very nice to meet you.’

‘Y/n... I really enjoyed your show tonight, mate.’

‘Oh, yes the show!’ Elton hits the top of his head lightly, chuckling humourously, ‘thank you, I’d completely forgotten! If you have a minute, would you like to get a drink? I know a bartender who.... Sorry, no, that’s it, I know a bartender.’

You laugh lightly, and Elton feels the tips of his ears burning red as you manage out a ‘sure, Elton John, I’d love a drink.’

‘You really don’t like performing Crocodile Rock?! I tell you now, Elton, it’s already going to be a classic.’

‘I mean, I love it, but I’ve only done a couple of shows and my legs are already killing me.’

You slam your glass down, and Elton can’t help but pick his up nervously, gulping down a few sips of whatever you had ordered the both of them. Over the rim, he finds his eyes nervously dashing quick looks at the way your eyes shine and crinkle slightly in the corner when you laugh deeply, the way your adam’s apple bobs as well with each chuckle. 

‘So tell me, Elton, what is it really like to walk around in those platform boots?’

The night passes so quickly, Elton can hardly recall the time difference between Bernie leaving the two of them with a big smirk on his face just a little past midnight, winking happily at Elton who just shoos him on, and the bartender kicking them out from the venue at nearly two am.

Elton had always enjoyed the night, the pure inky black a comfort, a blanket of generous velvet that kept him safe and illuminated the world in a light he could understand and draw upon. It is the pure black that makes the moon so beautiful, that makes a stage for her to stand upon, and gives the stars a beauty that makes the soul serene, and lights a spark in the imagination. That night was no different, but there was the added bonus that he felt after years of gazing out of his bedroom window wishing instead that he could live out among the stars, he had managed to capture his own.

Kicking at the gravel softly, a dopey smile on your face, you allow the short tufts of your hair to fall over your forehead, embracing the cooling breeze, but not allowing yourself to meet Elton’s gaze in case he figured out how starstruck your eyes had become.

Beaming like the sun, Elton gazed fondly at you, before asking ‘well, what shall we do now? The night is still young.’

‘And hopefully the day will be too’, you add, looking up at him quickly with a stiffness in your frame, an electricity surrounding you that nearly takes Elton’s breath away. Your hoarse voice continues, as you begin to bite your bottom lip, ‘and the day after that, hopefully.’

[angrylizardjacket]

crashed into me {Bernie Taupin}

Summary: Ash, having split from Roger, is called in to work with Elton John, where she meets Bernie Taupin, who feels like a breath of fresh air, even if he's not so different from Roger, he's different enough. It feel different. It feels good.

A/N: atrociously long but I don't know the word count. (Edit: akdkaldksfdg it's 8200 words wtf) I'm so so so sorry to mobile users who Read More doesn't work for. And for everyone else for the next 3 days until I can get to a laptop and add a read more. SO this is a thing. I'm actually a little proud of it. It'll get like 12 notes because it's obscure as hell but I'm enjoying myself and that's what matters. I hope that if you read it, you enjoy it too!!

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

When John Reid, Queen’s manager, calls Ash specifically, she can’t even begin to fathom what he wants. This is John Reid, who manages Elton John, who she’s met maybe twice in total, wanting her to meet someone- not Queen, just Ash. He calls and he asks her to meet him at his office, to bring her portfolio; he tells her that he’s got a client who is interested in working with her, and Ash feels like she’s going to throw up. 

When John Reid, Elton John’s manager, calls Ash, Queen’s designer, specifically, he knows without even really needing a meeting that she’d be perfect to work with Elton. The moment he’d met her, watched her negotiate for a place on EMI’s payroll with Foster, he knew she wasn’t one to be chewed up and spat out the industry like so many before her had been, and will be. She’s weathered rockstars, weathered Freddie Mercury for years by now, and she’s got the drive, the talent, and the vision to bring Elton’s extravagance to life. 

And more importantly, he knows what’s gone down between her and Roger, and since they’ve split, he doesn’t want either of their talent wasted on awkward encounters and unresolved tension; he wants to give her a project with another artist as much as he wants to give her an opportunity.

The meeting is more of a formality.

“Rocket, dear, lovely to see you, please take a seat,” Reid smiles warmly at her when she knocks on his door, wearing a bright red jumpsuit, the top of which is tied off around her waist, and a yellow, bejeweled, bell sleeved crop top. Her hair is out, looking somehow both styled, and an absolute, untameable mess, and she’s already reaching for her folio in the leather bag she’s got slung over one shoulder.

“Rocket? Who’s Rocket?” There’s someone on the sofa that Ash hadn’t been able to see for the door, and when she steps into the room, she can feel her heart in her throat. Elton. Fucking. John.

“Rocket here is a designer, she’s Queen’s designer actually, though she’s essentially on retainer for EMI; I think she could really bring your ideas to life, Elton.” Reid’s so clear and concise, and Ash has to remember to close her mouth, a little overwhelmed now that she knows exactly why she’s here. “Rocket, please, take a seat.” 

Ash steps quickly up to the desk, looking to Reid to avoid staring at Elton and the man she hadn’t noticed beside him, instead pulling out her portfolio and laying flat on the desk. The switch is instant, from nervous to all business, seizing the opportunity presented.

“You should have given me a heads up, I could have brought some of the actual pieces I was working on for Freddie, they’re far more impressive.” Ash tells him, voice a little tense. She avoids looking directly at Reid, opening up to the front page which was already a rather impressive photo of Freddie in a sequinned, striped jumpsuit, laid out over a sketch of the design with notes, and fabric samples. When she finally looks up at Reid, he’s giving her a faintly amused smile, before his gaze flicks to the sofa and it’s occupants.

“I’m sorry,” he’s not really, they both know, but Ash just gives a tight smile in response before he’s calling over the other two, “Elton, Bernie, would you like to come over and introduce yourselves and take a look at her portfolio, maybe get some ideas?”

There’s movement once he stops speaking; Elton, and the one who has to be Bernie, make their way over, both looking between Ash and Reid, a little confused, but mostly intrigued. Ash stands and moves to the side to let the other two get a good look at her work.

“Ash Clarke,” she offers her hand, smiling brightly trying to hide her nerves, “but most people around here call me Rocket; it’s a nickname turned professional name, you know how it goes,” she explains without being prompted, as if reading off a script. Elton grins at her.

“Elton John, lovely to meet you, Miss Rocket, I have to say it’s good to put a name to the brains behind some of Freddie’s pieces I’ve come to really envy,” he tells her, and Ash can feel herself turning bright red at the compliment.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her smile growing more bashful, still a little starstruck, “it’s lovely to meet you too.”

“You- you made all of these?” The other man asks, eyes bright as he looks up from where he’s been flicking through her portfolio. Ash drops Elton’s hand, and the singer turns to join his friend in looking through the book.

“Every design in there had to be made from scratch; it’s not as if you’re going to get Freddie Mercury’s look in Biba,” she laughs a little, gaze drifting as she scratches at the back of her neck, considering “I’m not exactly worried about time or effort in terms of construction; hand sewing a sequinned jumpsuit was pretty much my Everest.”

“We’ll see about that,” Elton says, and there’s an excited look in his eyes, and Ash pauses for a moment, before letting her grin turn a little sharp as she looks back at him.

“If anyone could give me a challenge, it’d probably be you.” 

And the moment her work becomes her focus, any indication of her earlier nervousness evaporates. When she greets Bernie, there’s a confidence in the way she holds herself, the firmness of her handshake, something in her smile he can’t quite identify.

Once they’re all introduced, Ash stands between the pair looking over her folio, walking them through designs, the intricacies of each piece’s construction; her voice is strong and her explanations are concise, though she’ll add amusing asides here and there. Before the half an hour meeting is up, Elton’s already agreed to take her on as his designer, and head dresser for the tour.

“I prefer to travel with my more intricate work,” Ash admits, a little awkwardly, but Elton’s already all but agreed. 

After everyone’s in agreement, a consultation has been arranged for Ash and Elton to go through some initial ideas, and Ash has signed onto the tour, she’s packed up all her things and is ready to head out. Reid’s office is in a very large, very fancy EMI building, and while Elton stays to talk with his manager, Bernie offers to walk her out, lest she get lost.

“How’d you come to work with Queen?” He asks, smiling goodnaturedly. The softness about his eyes reminds her a little of John. 

“I met Fred in uni, he’s like a brother to me,” Ash admits, though it’s a little hesitant, there’s a tightness in her own smile, and she avoids his gaze, “I’ve been working with them for about three-to-four years,” she paused, “dunno, just sort of fell into it, I guess.” She paused for a very, very long moment, before finally turning, slowing down to an actual stop. “You’re the songwriter, aren’t you?” After a beat, she frowned, amending, “like, I know you both write songs, but you’re- that’s what you do for the mostpart.”

Bernie blinked a few times, taking a moment to process all of what she’d said, amid the flurry of her accent, and found himself smiling, nodding as he actually took a moment to consider the woman before him.

“Yes, I write the words, Elton writes the music,” after a beat, his smile grew wider, “that’s generally how it’s worked out.”

“Well judging by the end product, it’s worked out quite well.” Ash’s voice was surprisingly fond, and Bernie agrees, laughing, and then they’re heading off again, and he’s asking her if she had a favourite song. 

“I mean, I do, I have a few, but they’re...” she hesitated, bouncing down the stairs to the ground floor, “most of them, well, they’re a bit tragic now, old memories and such; I don’t listen to them a lot anymore,” she found herself admitting.

“Can I ask what they were anyways?” And Bernie sounds genuinely curious. Ash makes a noise that sounds caught between a hum and a laugh, but Bernie holds up a hand, amusement shining in his eyes when she looks over his eyes, “can I take a guess and say one of them was Tiny Dancer?”

Ash laughs, nodding, though she’s also turning pink.

“The kicker is that I can’t dance to save my life, haven’t got a musical bone in my body,” they’re passing reception, and Ash waves to the woman behind the counter who smiles and waves at her in return, “but Rog was always adamant that the rest of the song was close enough that it didn’t matter.” Her words are fond but then her expression is twisting, falling once they step outside and her mind has caught on a memory; the reason she doesn’t listen to the song anymore, Bernie thinks. He goes to apologise, but then she’s smiling brightly at him, waiving it off and hopping down the front steps of the building.

She tells him it was lovely to meet him, so honest and bright, and he wonders if it was a trick of the light, her momentary scowl. He returns the sentiment in kind and tells her he looks forward to their next meeting. Ash’s smile grows wider, and then she’s off, easy for his eye to follow, all red and gold and ginger, like a flame through the sea of beige pants and slate grey sidewalks. Certainly she’s interesting, but he’s not quite sure what to think.

By the time he’s back in the office, though he’s sure to knock first, knowing Elton and Reid’s situation, he asks about her. Elton, ever the gossip, has already extracted from Reid everything he knows about the girl, within reason. 

The most scandalous gossip is always what Elton starts with, and it only takes a single sentence for the earlier interaction to start making more sense to Bernie.

“Well I knew I knew her from somewhere; she’s been in and around the tabloids in the past few years, dating Roger Taylor and all,” Elton leans back, smiling to himself; the gossip’s not malicious, it’s more like he’s proud of himself for solving some sort of riddle. It’s obvious he likes her well enough, is excited to work with her, is excited to work with someone who has the talent to match his ideas. 

They meet with her weekly; Elton because he’s the one she’s designing for, Reid because he’s Elton’s manager the same way Paul is Queen’s; in charge of the day-to-day, and Bernie because, well, because he can be, because he wants to be. Ash doesn’t complain, he’s good company.

They go over concepts at a coffee shop, and she’s dressed down from the last time they saw her. Her hair’s tied back, late and a little frantic, sketchbook in hand when she bursts in. There’s paint on her clothes and graphite on her fingertips, and loose pieces of thread littered all over her shirt if anyone looked hard enough.

She doesn’t give an excuse, just jumps straight into the ideas she had, opening her sketchbook to a page covered in designs and colours, telling them she’d have fabric samples after taking measurements.

She’s chaotic; a flurry of movement and colour, and a much thicker accent than Reid, exploding with ideas, and so enthusiastic about the ideas that Elton brings in turn. She’d rather write her address on a napkin than rip out a page of her notebook, and something about that is so endearing.

“Sorry, I know this isn’t usually how designers work,” she says, finally taking a moment to sip at the coffee she’d ordered on arrival, making a face at how lukewarm and unpleasant it was, “I’m just used to being far more hands on with my clients,” after a beat, she considered her words, before her expression wrinkles and she turns an entertaining shade of pink. “Professionally,” she picked her words carefully, “I like to establish a close and respectful relationship with my clients; I consider the people I work with to be friends.” She explains, and is thankful when no-one questions her on that.

Bernie’s the first to show up, a week later at the address she’d given them all, and it comes as a slight surprise to find that it’s not a studio, that it’s just her flat. She answers the door in practically the same clothes as she’d been wearing the last time she saw him, but with a grin adorning her face, looking far less hurried.

While she sets about making tea, he takes the moment to look around her apartment, picking his way past the reams of fabric leaning against every piece of furniture it seemed. There’s a selection of photos on her mantle, most notably, a slightly faded photograph of a younger-looking Ash, and Freddie Mercury, in front of the ocean. Most of her photos are of Queen members, though there’s a few of what he thinks is a band, though he doesn’t recognise them, the woman Ash is standing beside is stark naked, grinning and covered in body paint. There’s one, face down, and when he picks it up, he sees Ash asleep on Queen’s Roger Taylor, the two of them crammed into what Bernie recognises as a tour bus sofa; it’s labelled Osaka ‘72. It’s surprisingly intimate. He feels like he’s intruding. Something tightens in Bernie’s chest at the sight of it, and he puts it back down, wants to pretend like he never saw it, but turning back, he sees Ash watching him, quiet, leaning against her kitchen counter with two mugs in front of her.

“Sorry, I should have cleaned up.” Her voice is soft as she picks up the mugs, bringing one over to him where he’s floundering, babbling out apologies for intruding, though she doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she stands beside him, shoulder brushing his, looking at the rest of the photos.

“That one’s from our first year-” she picks up the one of herself and Freddie, “felt like we were the only two not straight out of high school, us old dogs had to stick together.”

This takes Bernie by surprise, who hadn’t thought much about how old she was, though when he thinks about it, he’d assumed she was younger than him, but perhaps that was just her height. It turns out he’s younger than her by just under a year; she’d just turned twenty-six. 

Elton and Reid turn up not long after, and she sets about making them tea also, before she starts taking Elton’s measurements. While she’s writing and sketching, she hands him a thick box of fabrics, and tells him to go through it, pick out some textures and colours he likes and that he thinks would work.

What a strange juxtaposition she presents herself as; endlessly patient and understanding with everyone around her, but always hurrying herself, wanting to do more, trying to push herself, challenge herself. Bernie can’t deny that he’s coming to quite like her.

In the months leading up to the album release and tour, they’re at her flat almost once a week, once a fortnight if they’re busy, but it becomes a familiar location. Ash is casual about it, insisting that suits would be overdressed, and so, even for Reid, it becomes a small sanctuary from the hectic life they’ve all been leading. Despite this, she’s always been a bit wary of Reid, not enough to have it effect their business, but every time she sees him in a suit, it seems to set her on edge; the moment he starts showing up in jeans and t-shirts, she seems far more comfortable. Sometimes they bring takeout, and Ash yells when Elton eats in costume, but she always relents ‘just this once’, every time. 

They swap anecdotes, and the three men come to realise that Ash was a lot closer with Queen than anyone else seems to know, and she in turn learns of Elton and Reid’s relationship. There’s a moment of nervousness, of hesitation after the confession spills from Elton’s lips, even Bernie is tense. After a beat, Ash sits back from where she’d been bent over her sewing machine.

“It doesn’t bother me, I’m in a similar boat after all, in terms of,” she flushes a little, gesturing vaguely to herself, though she’s facing away from them, hair hiding most of her face. There’s a new tension in the room now, “but I don’t have much of a preference,” she admitted, before laughing a little, looking back at them where they’ve taken up her sofa and armchair, “but honestly after everything I went through with Rog, I admire that you’ve kept it so discrete.” After this, she actually seems less tense around Reid, even when he’s wearing a suit, though Bernie’s not sure the others have even noticed.

Bernie finds her fascinating, will show up early just to talk while she will be sewing, or pinning, or embroidering, always doing something, always keeping busy. In turn, he’d started bringing his notebook, working on lyrics. They’d fall into companionable silence, working away at their respective tasks before Reid and Elton would show up and the noise would pick up again.

“Dude, how in the hell did you manage to tear this?”

Bernie arrives in time to see Ash holding what looks like it could be a shirt, gazing despairingly at Brian May, who just shrugged at her question. After a beat, she shook her head.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she sighed, taking a seat at her sewing machine, and greeting Bernie with a weary smile, “when do you need this by?” She asks Brian, who’s frowning in confusion at Bernie. The confusion is mutual. “Brian.”

“Saturday?”

“It’ll take me twenty minutes, can you make me a tea?” She sighs, and he’s happy to oblige. Once introduced, Bernie and Brian get on well, chatting idly about music and touring, and when Bernie mentions taking Ash on tour, Brian looks both surprised and amused, and before Ash can even open her mouth to protest, Brian’s already giving a wry yet vague warning about keeping an eye on her on tour. Before he can even finish she’s threatening to destroy his shirt, and that’s enough to shut him up.

Banter and teasing quips flow between them and it becomes obvious that they’re old friends through and through. Brian mentions that Freddie’s been whining without her around, and Ash gives a wry smile, calls Freddie a sook, and informs Brian that Freddie had been by the apartment only two days ago. She asks about how John Deacon was going with his girlfriend, and Brian’s smile turns fond as he catches her up. It doesn’t escape Bernie’s notice how they avoid talking about Roger.

Once the shirt’s fixed, Ash presents it with pride, and Brian takes her face in his hands, kissing her forehead and calling her a legend. Ash’s answering smile is toothy. Silence filled the little flat once Brian had left, as Ash leaned her head onto her desk with faint exasperation, her cheeks flushed.

“So, Miss Rocket,” Bernie leaned back in her armchair, mischief glinting in his eyes as he crosses his arms. He doesn’t call her that much anymore, but she’s not objecting to the nickname as much as she is this line of questioning he’s about to go down, “what exactly did you get up to on tour that it warrants a warning from Brian May?” There’s a teasing edge to his words and Ash actually gives pause, before looking up, cheeks still dusted with a faint blush.

“It’s not suitable for polite company,” her smile is sharp, amusement sparkling in her eyes, and Bernie laughs.

“Sweet of you to call me polite company-” but they’re cut short but Elton bursting in, asking if Brian May had just been here. 

Something about Ash’s relationship with Bernie had shifted that day, subtly, almost imperceptibly, but they both knew it had. Perhaps it was the solidarity of being close to someone in the spotlight, or the solidarity of everyone knowing your work but no-one knowing your name. Perhaps it was simpler than that.

Now, not that anyone noticed enough to make mention of it, when she wasn’t at her sewing machine or fitting Elton, more often than not she was by his side. Even at the photoshoot Reid had set up to get a look at the costumes under lights, Ash found herself coming to stand beside Bernie. Initially it had been to ask his opinion, but she’d then just stayed there, frowning at Elton with her tongue poking out just as little as she tried to think about what else the outfit might need.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” There’s pride in Bernie’s voice, and Ash hums distractedly, playing with the box of safety pins in her hand while Elton posed with a piano. His jacket was beautifully ostentatious, with big, furry shoulder pieces that somehow managed to distract from his tight, sequinned pants. It’s quite a look.

“Do you think it needs something?” She asks, tipping her head to the side. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Bernie says after a moment, before humming, “it’s quite fetching though, God knows only he could pull it off.” Ash laughs a little at that, but her frown deepens.

“Elton,” she calls out, and the singer’s attention immediately snaps to her, “you think it needs anything else?”

“A hat.” He answers, without missing a beat, and Ash’s face lights up like he’s given her the secrets to life, the universe, and everything.

“Of course!”

Once the photoshoot is over, Elton makes mention that they’re going out for drinks, makes a point to invite her, and Ash hesitates for a moment, but agrees, so long as she can stop by her flat to change. Halfway to her front door, arms laden down with garment bags, she turns back to the Rolls Royce the other three are crammed into, and asks where they’re getting drinks at a volume that’s probably louder than necessary. After a moment, the window is rolled down, and Elton’s smiling face is looking at her, telling her to wear whatever she’d wear out with Freddie, for context. Ash nods very seriously, tells him she won’t be long.

It only takes her five minutes before she’s crashing from her front door, a pair of enormous, black platformed go-go boots in hand, wearing a black, sequinned, sleeveless shirt, and brown, corduroy, high-waisted shorts. When she makes her way into the car, she’s too distracted trying to pull on her boots to notice where Elton was instructing the driver to go, or how Bernie was pointedly looking at anything but Ash.

Thankfully, Elton had taken the middle seat in the back, and was currently fawning over the sequinned shirt, and he and Ash got into a conversation that essentially amounted  to complaining about the texture of wearing sequins, but loving how they felt from the outside. When Elton asks Bernie his thoughts, the man in question stumbled over his answer, gaze fixed out the window. 

“He hasn’t got the same eye for fashion,” Elton stage whispered to Ash, who couldn’t help but giggle.

“That’s not his fault, people like him can get away with owning one leather jacket because they always look good in it,” she says blithely; Elton’s eyebrows raise with amusement, and Bernie’s grinning, turning pink about the ears.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” Reid finally chimes in from the front seat, and Ash, who has no interest in being embarrassed or playing coy, smiles, and says without hesitation that it is.

With her boots on, she’s about the same height as Bernie, though both of them are still dwarfed by Elton in platforms of his own, and with Reid in tow, the four of them make their way into one of the hottest clubs London has to offer. 

Elton boos when she says she doesn’t like drinking, but cheers when she agrees to cocaine, and boos again once she’s snorted a few lines, and rubbed the remains on her gums, and adamantly refuses to dance.

“So no drinking but a strong yes to coke?” Bernie laughs, sitting beside her in the booth. They’re shoulder to shoulder despite the ample room surrounding them, and he’s got a beer in front of him; Elton and Reid have already disappeared. Ash is surprised Reid even agreed to come out.

“I don’t hate who I am on coke,” Ash says, far too honestly, but she’s still smiling as if she hadn’t been painfully personal, “and I don’t black out on it; I like remembering my nights.” She elbows him, a teasing edge to her words and her grin. He can’t help but laugh, tipping his head back against the wall.

“I thought you’d rather someone more... exciting. Adventurous. Someone to give you nights worth remembering,” he hears himself saying, “not to say that I’m not fun,” he amended quickly, “but I’m no Roger Taylor-”

“Thank fuck for that,” she chuckles humorlessly, “you know, I’m so fucking sick of people assuming what I want; who I deserve, who I’m perfect for, according to them,” her jaw tightens, looking out at the dance floor, and Bernie can’t help but frown, turning to look at her, “listen, if you want to keep things professional, just say the word. But for the record,” she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze, expression serious, “out of everyone I could possibly be with in this moment, I’d rather you.”

Bernie doesn’t give himself time to hesitate, to deliberate, so he kisses her, his lips soft against hers, his hand coming to cup her jaw and pull her closer. She moves with him, pressing herself closer to his side, leaning in to his touch. When they break apart, he doesn’t drop his hold on her face, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. She’s not smiling, though neither is he, both looking at the other as if waiting for the other’s reaction, both even a little bewildered. 

“You’re lovely,” Ash murmurs, eyes wide, “you’re so lovely and it makes me actually so nervous.” She admits, and Bernie can feel himself smiling.

“What?” He snorts, and Ash is turning pink. suddenly bashful, as if she’s regretting saying it.

“I can be such an asshole, I keep asking myself how I’ve tricked you into this,” she tells him, but she doesn’t look away, can’t bring herself to. His expression actually turns soft.

“You haven’t, and you aren’t,” he tells her fondly, and Ash finally ducks her head, moving out of his grip, her smile surprisingly vulnerable. "You're very smooth, though; 'I'd rather you'? How was I meant to resist that, not that I wanted to."

“I get... sappy when," she hums thoughtfully, "intoxicated." But her expression falls a little, "you don’t know me that well,” but she’s not moving away from him, though she’s sitting forward, looking out at the dancefloor.

“Well I think I’d like to.”

They don’t stay at the club long, it’s too hot, too crowded, too loud, and in different situations they’d both be enjoying it, but tonight doesn’t feel like that kind of night. They mill about the streets of London until they find a twenty-four hour cafe, and though it’s dingy, it feels perfect. They drink terribly brewed tea and talk and laugh until Ash is coming down from her high, and she’s still nervous, but not hesitant. She hasn’t felt nervous like this for a long time, and it’s a welcome feeling, if she’s being honest. 

He walks her home, kisses her at the door to her flat building, and grins as he watches her head inside, a little giddy. 

The next morning, Ash lies in bed, staring at her ceiling, stomach ice cold and full of anxiety, wracked with worry that he didn’t mean it, that he thinks she didn’t mean it. But around midday, she gets a call.

“How are you holding up?” On the other end of the line, Bernie’s voice is warm. 

“Pretty alright,” she’s smiling, shifting in her dressing gown and fluffy slippers, heart quickly warming as if exposed to sunlight, “how about you?” There’s a long pause, before Bernie’s quiet, hesitant laughter.

“I’m great. Do you want to grab dinner?”

They’re not dating, not if anyone asks, and it’s easy to be discrete while in London. For the first time in a long time Ash realises she doesn’t have to worry about people gossiping and speculating; she’d be lying if she said she didn’t relish it.

At first the people around them seem none the wiser; Ash is always busy, always on the move, so it’s easy for people to see her with him and not think anything of it. Perhaps their respective, standoffish nature makes it easier to fool everyone around them; they haven’t known each other long enough to be comfortable with casual contact in front of other people, even things that could be construed as platonic.

But then he shows up early to the final fitting, something Ash had come to expect. For the first time since he’s known her, her flat is actually clean, relatively speaking; she’s got rows of clothes racks around the room, each bursting with sequins and feathers and more colours than you can shake a stick at, and headdresses line practically every flat surface in the living room, with a few even lined up in the corners, but there’s no giant reams of fabric leaning against the sofa or the wall, her sewing machine sits idle and clean on the desk in the back corner. It takes him a little while to realise, but he sort of misses the clutter.

Ash herself is wearing jeans and knitted sweater that’s too big for her, offering tea around a yawn she can’t quite bite back on this early Sunday morning. Something about it, perhaps the sleepy way she blinks after she finishes the question, has Bernie’s mind stalling for just a moment.

“Bern?” She asks gently, and his mind snaps out of it; she’s already holding two mugs in anticipation, slight frown creasing her forehead in confusion. Bernie smiles, can’t help himself, bright and fond.

“Tea would be lovely,” he agrees, and makes his way over to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. He turns, leaning against it to survey the now strangely unfamiliar living room. The kettle clicks on, and he can hear the busy London street outside, but it's a haze, like sunlight filtering in through the curtains, not quite distinct, but surprisingly comforting.

"How long have you been here?" He asks idly, crossing his arms and Wat hing over his shoulder as she adds sugar and teabags to the mugs.

"A few years," she muses, before leaving the cups be and waiting for the kettle to boil. Maneuvering around, she gently touches his arm as she passes, making a beeline for the sofa and flopping onto it, petting the seat beside her invitingly, "actually it was my first place after uni, if you don't count friends' couches," she laughs, moving automatically to tuck herself up beside him. His leather jacket is sun-warmed from being outside, and Ash hums appreciatively. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, looking at the rows of feather and pomped headdresses on the coffee table before them.

"Seems rather small for a studio space and your home."

"It gets the job done," Ash turns, rests her chin on his shoulder, and when he turns back to her, faint fondness in his eyes, she realises how close they are, "I'm a creature of habit." Her voice is so soft, but she's smiling, leaning in, and Bernie's got a hand on her cheek, kissing her softly as the kettle starts to whistle behind them.

There's a beat, a moment, Ash sighs heavily at being interrupted and rests her forehead against his for a moment. Bernie chuckles, presses a kiss to her forehead.

"I've got it," he assures, waiving off her protests, "no, I've been here enough times," he assures, "I think I can handle two cups of tea."

He moves like he knows the kitchen by the back of his hand, and Ash watches in fond awe as he finishes fixing them both tea. When it arrives, it even tastes almost perfect, and Ash, who'd curled up on the sofa, takes her drink with a murmured 'thanks' moving her legs over his as he rifled through the satchel by his side.

As Ash stretches, reaches down the other side of the sofa to grab one of the books stacked there, she feels herself slipping into a moment of sweet domesticity, something she hadn't realised she would be able to enjoy so soon.

"You working on anything interesting?" Three minutes after trying to read, she feels her skin start to itch, and the closes her book definitively. The scratching of Bernie's pen against his notebook is a painfully familiar sound for reasons that don't involve the sweet lyricist before her, and she enjoys domesticity as much as the next person, but she's got no project of her own; she doesn't like being idle.

"I'm always working on something interesting, it's just whether or not the label will see it that way," he mused, frowning at his notebook. Something about his concentration was so endearing, but they'd been taking it slow, both because Ash was so used to her relationships starting physical with feelings coming into the mix later, but she didn't want Bernie to think that all she wanted from him was sex. She just wanted to prove that she could take things slow, that she could care about the people she slept with before she slept with them.

But that jacket and his jeans and the way he'd been smiling at her had her feeling some type of way.

“You alright?” His voice brings her back to reality, and his hand where it’s resting on her knee is warm. Ash gives him a smile as sincere as she can manage, pushes all less than pure thoughts from her head; Elton and Reid would be arriving in less than an hour after all.

“What are you doing after this?”

“Not sure, didn’t really have any plans; why?” Bernie’s smiling slightly, and Ash tips her head to the side.

“I was thinking about visiting the Tate,” Ash sits up further, Bernie raises an eyebrow, intrigued. This thumb is brushing small circles against her knee.

“The art gallery?”

“No, the pizza place- yes the art gallery!” Ash laughs, leaning the side of her head against the back of the sofa, “they’ve-” she pauses for a moment, a little self conscious, like she’s sharing too much of herself to be saying this all out loud, “they’ve got a Pre-Raphaelite exhibition at the moment that I’ve been dying to see.” She admits. After a beat, her green-eyed gaze turns a little hopeful, “do you think you’d maybe like to come along?”

Bernie’s constantly surprised and delighted about the little things he keeps learning about her, and this is no different. He agrees easily.

The fitting goes well; it takes a while, obviously, with all the options she’s prepared, but Elton seems thrilled by the end of it, excited for the tour to start, and though Ash grumbles about getting all the outfits into garment bags and packing crates, she’s clearly very excited too. She and Elton bounce off of each other so well, her energy matching his the moment she’s focused on her work.

Bernie wonders if he has a type, regarding the people he cares about. He doesn’t think about it too hard.

She turns starry-eyed at the sight of Ophelia, and takes Bernie’s hand where they’re standing shoulder to shoulder in the gallery.

“She’s always here,” Ash clarifies quickly, coming back down to earth, “but she’s always so lovely.” She laughs and it’s a little awed. As the afternoon progresses, he comes to find that she’s a lot more invested in this than he’d realised. They float through the Pre-Raphaelite exhibition, with Ash making comment at every other work, and Bernie marvels at the art, at the gentleness of the figures, and their striking realism despite this.

“Spite is such a wonderful motivator,” Ash says with a knowing fondness, though her words startle a laugh from Bernie. Ash turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, “I mean it! The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the group of artists who painted all of these, they formed in opposition of Raphael, and what was popular at the time artistically-”

“How do you know all this?” Bernie cuts her off, and Ash’s mouth snaps shut, frown adorning her brow for the barest moment.

“I studied it.”

"Double degree in fashion and art?" He nudges her shoulder but Ash's mood seems to have already soured.

"No, the fashion one was my second go; I started with Art History." She's fidgeting now, playing with his and like she's moments away from dropping it. But then he's giving her hand a gentle squeeze, asking what happened; when she looks at him, she's weary, looking, for a beat, half a second, far older than her age, "essentially," she begins, though her voice is painfully flat, as flat as her gaze is shallow, "I was expelled."

"Oh," he frowns, just slightly, takes the moment to process this information, to file it alongside everything else about her, seeing how it all fit together. Obviously it wasn't even close to being the whole story, but he didn't like the way the topic seemed to upset Ash, so he changed it.

"Which is your favorite, then?" He asked, tugging her gently into the next room, his voice light. At Ash's confusion, he smiled, "I'm sure you've seen enough art to pick a favorite piece."

"The Lacemaker;" Ash doesn't even give time to pass and think, the answer tumbling from her lips. She turns pink at her own enthusiasm. Bernie merely raises his eyebrow in question, and is rewarded by Ash waxing poetic about the tiny, beautiful piece hanging in the Louvre, the way the light's painted, the concentration on the woman's face, the attention to detail-

"I don't know why," actually a little breathless by the time she stops rambling about it, she's realised they're both sitting on a sofa in the lobby, having viewed the full exhibition by now. With both her hands on his knees, she hadn't realised how intense she had gotten until she realises how close they are, "she just takes my breath away." Ash murmurs, voice dropping to contrast how exuberantly she'd been singing the work's praises moments ago.

"You sound like you really love this painting."

There's a moment in time that follows, her gaze tracing his every feature, and he wonders what she sees in him, or even if she sees him at all. Lips twisting a little at that, a sharp shard of insecurity pierces his heart, his mind, as he wonders if she sees him or if she's -

Her smile is so gentle, so sincere, and her hand comes up to ghost along the side of his face.

"Art's very easy to love." She says it like its a fact, and perhaps for her it is. Bernie doesn't read into it, just lets go of the moment of insecurity and lets it fade quickly as Ash kisses him.

As it turned out, they weren't being as discrete as they had assumed; on the plane to Japan, the first leg of the tour, Bernie's asleep on the plane and Elton calls Ash over, looking pensive. Ash, who had been idly reading, a few seats away, no where near either Elton or Bernie, is confused for about three seconds before she gets to the musician himself, and he doesn't play coy with what he wants to talk about.

"I know you and Bernie are seeing each other," Elton's tone is surprisingly level, though Ash's stomach drops. "Don't try and deny it-"

"I wouldn't. Deny it, that is," she's quick to clarify, taking the seat opposite him. Elton gives her a small smile.

"I'm not going to tell you not to, or anything like that, he seems quite happy, as do you, and I like you well enough; you both deserve to be happy, of course," but he pauses, his light smile shifting to something more serious, more sinister, "but he means the absolute world to me, you understand? And if you hurt him, I- I'll-" he struggles to find the words, the threat, but it comes through loud and clear. Ash, however, reaches out, rests her hand on Elton's where it's pressed flat against the table between them.

"He's... he's good, isn't he?" And she's not asking it as if asking if he's alright.

"He's the best." Elton confirms with a gentle smile, relaxing a little. "He's not a saint, but honestly he's better than I deserve most of the time."

Honestly, it feels like Elton's given his blessing, in a roundabout way, and Ash wonders if Freddie would give Bernie the same speech if he found out. Ash is grateful, however, as the idea of keeping up the charade on tour had been stressing her out.

After the first show of the tour, they all go out for drinks at a bar where no-one speaks English and their translator is almost overwhelmed at their exuberance. They sit around a coffee table, a set of armchairs and sofas for Elton and his entourage, and Ash sits in Bernie's lap. It's easy, it's strangely casual, his hand on her thigh as he rambles how well the show went.

Drinks flow freely and drugs are passed around and when Elton asks, Ash will dance, will dance badly, but in that moment she's without shame, because to see such genuine smiles from the people she's come to consider friends, consider something more as is the case with Bernie, it makes it all worth it.

When she comes back, flush and grinning, and sees the way Bernie's smiling, fond and amused at the spectacle she'd made of herself, she feels that want that she'd been so carefully controlling flare to life.

"The irony of my employment in the music industry does not escape me," she laughs, breathless where she resumes her place in his lap, curling an arm around his shoulders.

"No idea what you mean," he responded loftily, hand on her thigh, pulling her closer to him, "just wondering dear, what song were you dancing to, because I don't think it was the one the club was playing."

The way she laughs, it lights up the room, at least for him, and for just a moment, the excitement of the night, the thrill of another country, the liberation provided from the booze and blow, it all coalesces into one ecstatic high.

"Let's get out of here," his voice drops low, his grip on her thigh tightening, "we can spend every other night partying with the rest of them." He actually nips at her neck and it's all the convincing Ash needs before she's getting to her feet, offering her hand and biting her lip.

"Lead the way."

Bernie's a nice person, well he likes to think he's a nice person, and he doesn't like to make assumptions about people, so, a few days later, when he again asked Ash what Brian had been warning him about, he hadn't expected her to show him.

"You're a writer; show don't tell, isn't that a rule?" She smirks, pinning Elton's headdress in place and petting the rockstar on the shoulder. Bernie's quickly turning pink at the mere implication of her offer, murmuring about how it's a different sort of writing, but Ash just presses a kiss to Elton's cheek, "alright, my work's done, I'm going to go debase myself in a closet." It's so blasé that Elton laughs, wishes her luck.

Though it's outwardly teasing, when she gets to Bernie himself, her expression turns soft. He looks pleased, actually, his blush fading fast, seems eager to be lead into the nearest empty room or closet. Ash is always sweet with him, always taking time and checking in to make sure he's alright, which Bernie appreciates; he can tell at times that he's not what she's used to, but she adapts. But he learns too; learns to pull her hair and kiss her rough, to dig his nails in but also to hold her close in the quiet moments after, because she says she doesn't know how music works but her whimpers and moans are their own kind of melody.

A girl like Ash would never be a forever for him, and they both knew this. She was the girl he could still work with even after sleeping with her, she’s the girl he can delude himself to thinking he’s in love with for the tour, she’s the girl who will smile at him the next time Reid brings her in like nothing ever happened. But she’s too much like Elton, with bigger dreams than he can rightly comprehend, and he’s sure she’d leave him in the dust if she had to... not that he thinks that about Elton.

Their relationship has a timer.

It started ticking down the moment he asks about what would happen after the tour, and Ash can't meet his gaze.

He thinks he might always remember that afternoon, the two of them enjoying a day off in bed together, the sky outside overcast, though it didn't matter because the room was heated to a be comfortable against their bare skin. Bernie's on his side, shooting for idle when he asks, his fingers ghosting over her skin, as if mapping the plane of her back, each divot and muscle and vertebrae. Ash is on her stomach, holding her pillow beneath her head, half her face smushed into it, watching him through out half-closed eye.

"I'll probably go back into project mode-" she starts.

"As soon as we get back? No down time between tours?" He asks, fingers ghosting up and down her bare spine. Ash gives a hollow laugh.

"I'm always on the move," is all the response she offers before continuing on, "Freddie managed to call me while we were in New York; they've finished a new album and he's honestly begging to have me back." She paused, her smile fond and faraway, "he calls it 'A Night At The Opera', keeps calling it his magnum opus."

"A man like Freddie, seems a bit soon to call it that," Bernie laughs, and Ash finally meets his gaze, something in her chest tightening at the easy, kind fondness that seems to spi from him.

"He's bound to have at least another eight in the coming decade," she agrees, but then her expression fades and she shifts, presses her face further into the pillow, as if trying to make herself smaller.

"I- Bern," with her voice so small and vulnerable, he can't help but frown a little, concerned. His hand stills, comes to rest at the small of her back, "I don't know what's going to happen with us." She admits, "I-" the words catch in her her throat, so he steps in.

"Ash, I love you but I don't think I could keep up," and she can tell it hurts a little for him to say it, like he's giving her an out even if his heart's not entirely in it, "you're the Rocket, love, always on the move." A few seconds pass, and Ash's expression falls.

"Burning out my fuse up here, alone." She murmurs, forlorn. The lyrics hang in the air between them, but as soon as he process what she says, what she means, how she's spiralling, he pulls her into his arms, holding her close.

"I'm sorry," she's hugging him back, her cheek resting on his chest, "I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologise," he assures, "let's just enjoy it while it lasts." He pauses, holding her just a little tighter, a lump forming in his throat, "and you'll never be alone, Ash, there's always be people who love you; Elton and I are just two of them, I promise."

Ash is quiet for a very long moment before she moves, propping herself up, finally meeting his gaze, her own full of adoration. After a beat, she breaks out into a disbelieving smile.

"You're good, you know that?" She half laughs, "much better than I deserve," shaking her head, she talks before he can form a response or protest, "I love you, and I think I'll always love you, in one way or another; is that weird to say? We haven't known each other that long if you think about it," already she's back to sounding like her old self, and Bernie's laughing, pulling her back into his arms.

"No, I get it; I love you too."