#freddie mercury take the wheel

[anchored-nyctophilia]

(another one bites the dust plays as i drive my car off a cliff)

[petitemistletoe]

The Concert

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst, dom! James x Regulus, some hate fucking sort of? enjoy this!

Word Count: 5K+

A/N: This is a part 2 to Hate, hope you all enjoy it :)

“I have such a good idea!” You said with a large grin on your face as you dropped yourself down at the table in between Marlene and Remus. 

“Where did you come from?” Sirius asked, turning fully around to look behind him. 

“Stayed to help Binns after history,” you grinned, helping yourself to a large piece of the meaty pie that was on the table for dinner.

“What’s your idea?” Lily asked, sensing the excitement radiating off you.

“I heard from Yaz who heard from Dorcus who heard from Daniel who heard from Michael who heard from his cousin who lives in Soho that Queen is doing a pub concert in London on Friday and we have to go!” You beamed. 

“I don’t care for Queen.” Remus shrugged.

“The Queen sings?” Marlene cocked an eyebrow. 

“No! The band Queen! Freddy Mercury, Roger Taylor, Brian May, John Deacon. Come on! They’re the biggest band in the world right now! How can you guys not want to go?” You were severely displeased with your friends’s lack of enthusiasm. 

“Hey! I know I would love to hear the Queen perform. I’ve never been to a muggle concert before.” James said, getting up from his place across the table and squeezing himself between you and Sirius so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders. 

“It’s just Queen, Prongs, and your opinion doesn’t count you would do anything to keep your girlfriend happy.” Remus rolled his eyes as he looked at you and James comfortably seated together. 

“Uh, Remus? She’s not the only one who would be happy to see Queen.” Lily said with a grin, pointing her fork at Sirius. Remus turned to look at Sirius who was red faced with excitement and had somehow transfigured his sweater into a Queen t-shirt.

“Oh no,” Remus sighed, “don’t tell me you’re a Queen fan? Padfoot! What happened to taste?”

“I don’t know why you don’t like them, Moony. They’re amazing and you’re a snob. Also I’m excited for us to listen to a great band, get pissed, and snog uncontrollably.” Sirius crossed his arms and glowered at Remus. 

“I don’t want to go if all you’re gonna do is snog,” Lily sighed. 

“Yeah! I don’t want to watch the Potters and the Lupins snog all night. I’m out,” Marlene said, tossing her napkin on the table and crossing her arms across her chest in a pout. 

“I’ll come if I can bring Roman. We’re supposed to go on a date but I’ve been wanting a dastardly little rendez-vous in a pub bathroom.” Mary shrugged, standing from the table and making her way over to the Hufflepuff table.

“Hold on, what makes you think I would take James’s last name?” You asked. 

“Yeah! What if Moony and I wanted to hyphenate?” Sirius protested. Before Remus could rebut, Yasmine made her way over to the table and grinned at Marlene.

“Marls are you going to the Queen concert in London? I’d love to see you there.” She smiled at Marlene again who could only offer a goofy wave and a nod in return, her eyes trained on Yaz’s ass as she walked out of the great hall. 

“Okay so what is the official headcount for the concert then? Who’s coming?” James asked, surveilling the group.

“We’re going,” Sirius said quickly, sending Remus a look. Remus rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“I’ll come!” Peter said, his mouth still full of mashed potatoes.

“Roman and I will be there,” Mary said with a nod as she walked past the table, arm in arm with Roman. 

“Marlene, you coming?” You asked. Marlene still had a dumbstruck look on her face as her fingers ghosted over her shoulder where Yaz had rested her hand.

“What about you Evans?” James asked, looking at the final member of the group who had yet to respond

“No! I’ll be the,” Lily took a second to count the people in the group, “ninth wheel. I’d rather stay back and do almost anything else.”

“Peter will be alone. You can go with him,” Sirius offered but to everyone’s surprise Peter shook his head and squeaked, 

“I’ll be going with Dorcas.”

Lily looked like she wanted to die. You cleared your throat and sent a look Lily’s way.

“Lily, why don’t you bring Severus?” You offered her a gentle smile and you slapped one hand against James’ mouth and the other against Sirius’. You could feel both of their mouths moving against your hands but you weren’t letting go any time soon. You forgot, however, that there was another person in the group who despised Snape just as much as James and Sirius and you were out of hands. 

“Why the hell would we want Snape at a concert that I don’t even want to go to?” Remus said with a look of disgust. 

“Yeah!” Sirius said after biting your hand. You snatched your hand back and wiped it on Sirius’s shirt with a scowl, “That little snake will probably bring my brother too just to piss me off.”

“You think Regulus will be there?” James asked. You and James hadn’t really spoken about your incident with Regulus a few months ago where Regulus had watched you and James fuck. You tried to bring it up a few times but James shut it down, though you could’ve sworn you heard James murmur ‘Regulus’ under his breath a few times during sex. Regulus had been avoiding you and the Marauders like the plague since. 

“Regulus would never be caught somewhere with that many muggles.” Remus shook his head. 

“Lily is our friend so we have to baseline tolerate her friends. Lily why don’t you ask Severus if he’d like to come.” You said. Lily shook her head and sighed,

“I should stay home.”

“Lily you love Queen. Either come with us on your own or ask Severus.” You placed your hand over Lily’s and she made a face, 

“Your hand is wet.” 

“Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. Your other hand was still over James’s mouth and you finally looked at him and he smiled at you with his lust blown eyes. You moved your hand down so it was on James’ tie and pulled him up. 

“We’re going now,” you said, looking at the group, “I’ll get us twelve tickets. We’ll talk more at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Walk him like a dog!” Sirius called after you both. You led James to the prefects bathroom and started undressing. James fell back into the steamy, bubbling baths and you set yourself down on top of him. He was kissing up your neck as you seated yourself on James’s cock. 

James moaned into your open mouth as he helped move you, guide you up and down on his cock. 

“God, I love you so much baby,” James was babbling, the way he usually did when he was close. He was moving you faster and faster and he choked out a desperate “don’t stop!” His hand was fisted in your hair and he stumbled out a “Regulus,” before he came. He took several deep breaths, resting his forehead on yours and smiling. 

“I think we need to talk about something, James.” You said, getting off him and sitting next to him. 

“Alright? What’s up?”

“Have you realized that since the incident with Regulus-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“I know. But I think we need to. Every time we’ve had sex in the last two months you’ve moaned Regulus’s name. I think you want him James.” You said. You could practically see the gears turning in James’ brain.

“I…this is really confusing.” James shook his head. 

“You don’t need to do anything, James. Just think about what you want.”

“I want you!”

“I know you do. But you can want more than one thing.” You said with a small smile. You and James did not discuss it further.

Finally, Friday was upon you all and you were more than excited to see Queen. You had been ready for hours and you were sitting up in the marauder’s dorm watching the boys get ready. Remus was pouting as he sat on his bed wearing a normal pair of jeans, sweater, and tennis shoes. Sirius, on the other hand, was going all out. He was wearing a tight pair of trousers and a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. He was currently lining his eyes with a dark eyeliner and snapping at Remus, 

“Moony so help me god if you don’t change I’m going to hit you.”

“I don’t even want to go!” Remus protested. You sat down on the bed next to Remus and laid your head on his shoulder, 

“Remus. Just change so you can shut Sirius up.” 

“Fine!” Remus got up and started rifling through his trunk.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” You asked, looking around the dorm. Peter was looking between two graphic tees that his sister must have sent. One was for the Beatles and one was for Bowie.

“Which one do I wear?” Peter asked, obviously bewildered. 

“Bowie.” You nodded.

“I’m here!” James said, walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a smart looking sweater, and a leather jacket. He was also walking uncomfortably, presumably finally breaking in the pair of doc Martens that you had bought him for Christmas a year back. 

“You look good,” you said with a smile. 

“So do you,” James winked at you. You were dressed how you assumed most girls at the concert would be, a Queen shirt that Mary had cut up for you, a leather skirt, and your own doc Martens. 

Remus had finally changed and was now in a stiff pair of jeans, a thin long sleeve t shirt and a leather jacket. You had never seen so many wizards in leather. There was a knock at the door and you knew it could only be the other girls, finally ready. You let them in and Mary ran immediately to Sirius, helping him finish his eyeliner. Mary was dressed like you, with a cut up t shirt and a pleated mini skirt. 

“Mary, is that your skirt from third year?” You asked. 

“Yes! I needed a skirt I could cut shorter and Marlene knew a spell to expand the waistline!” Mary beamed. Marlene and Lily were dressed a little more conservatively. Lily was wearing a v-neck sweater and a pair of jeans and was twisting her ring on her finger nervously. Marlene was wearing leather pants and a tight top that rode up at times to show off her toned stomach. Marlene reached up to grab a flask that was sitting on a high shelf and Peter gasped and said,

“Marlene! Is that belly button piercing?” 

Marlene blushed bright red and immediately tried to pull her shirt down. 

“Ah ah! Too late McKinnon!” James said and laughed. 

“How did I not notice that before? Did you guys see that?” Lily said, turning and looking at you and Mary, who both shook your heads. 

“Yaz did it over the break,” Marlene mumbled, her face staying that same unnatural shade of red. 

“So Lily,” you could sense that Marlene was getting uncomfortable so you changed the subject, “is Severus coming?”

“Ah, sort of,” Lily shrugged, “he’s going with a few other Slytherins. Said he’ll see me there.” 

“Who are the other Slytherins, Evans?” Sirius asked, his eyes even more piercing now against the thick black eyeliner. 

“I think Barty and Regulus.” Lily sighed. 

“Oh my god! My damn brother! Get over here Moony! You’re wearing eyeliner.” Sirius commanded. 

“What? No!” Remus protested. 

“If Regulus is going to be there I need to make him as angry as possible. Seeing my boyfriend at a concert with thick eyeliner will do it.” Sirius snapped. 

“Just let him do it, Remus. He’ll poke out your eye before he backs down.” James said with a head shake. So twenty minutes later, Remus’s eyes were thickly lined and you all were on your way to Hogsmeade to apparate into London. You and James apparated first, since Yaz had left the tickets at will call for you and as a half-blood you were one of the few in the group who were familiar with the muggle world. 

“Hiya,” you greeted the man at will call, “picking up tickets. They were left by Yasmine Patel.”

“What’s the name on them?” The man asked. You gave the man your first and last name and he shook his head, “Sorry. I don’t have them under that name.”

“What!” You looked at James a little panicked. 

“Is it under Potter?” James tried. 

“Yep. Enjoy the show.” The man handed you the tickets. 

“Why would Yaz leave them under your name? She told me about the tickets.” You said, taking your ticket from James as you waited for the others to arrive. 

“Look again at the name on them,” James chuckled. He handed you the sticky note that was stuck on the tickets. Written there was your first name but instead of your last name there was Potter.

“Oh she’s hilarious.” You said with an eyeroll, crumpling up the sticky note. The rest of the group made their way over and took their tickets. 

“What’s that in your hand?” Sirius asked you as you made your way into the pub. It was pretty crowded but your large group was able to spread itself over a few tables comfortably. Marlene ran off almost immediately to see Yasmine, Mary and Roman had disappeared, and you could see Peter and Dorcas chatting with a few Hufflepuffs. Seated at the table was just you and James, Remus and Sirius, and Lily. Lily offered to grab a round of drinks first, but you knew was looking around for Severus. It didn’t seem like any of the Slytherins had made their way to the pub yet. 

“Oh, nothing. Look what Yaz left the tickets under at will call.” You handed Sirius the crumpled paper against your better judgement. Sirius immediately started laughing and said,

“Mrs. Potter! Thank you so much for arranging this visit!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Lupin.” You teased back. Lily returned with a tray of drinks for you all as you heard a man tap a few times on the microphone. 

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming to our pub. All shots of well liquor are half off for the rest of the night. Without further ado, Queen.” The man stood back to let the band run on stage. Sirius started screaming at the top of his lungs and grabbed Remus by the hand, running to the stage. 

It was only 11:30 when Queen left the stage and everyone had had a great time, even Remus who nodded his head a few times during Get Down, Make Love. You all agreed to stay and continue drinking as a smaller local band took the stage to play some background music for the pub. 

Remus and Sirius disappeared at one point in the evening and they returned to the table with Sirius's eye makeup smudged, Sirius was wiping his mouth crudely with the back of his hand, and Remus had a dumb little grin. Sirius took his seat back at the table as Remus disappeared off.

“Did Severus not come, Lily?” You asked. You were secretly a little upset that you hadn’t run into Regulus again. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Lily said, a little crestfallen. 

“Don’t worry,” Remus said, holding a tray of shots that he got from the bar for you all, “Snape, Reg, and Barty all have a table near the bar. Don’t worry, Lily, they’re as enchanting as ever.” 

“Oh!” Lily shot up and ran over to the table. 

“If they come over here, I swear.” Sirius said, grabbing his and Lily’s shots off the table. 

“You think Regulus will come over here?” James asked. You could detect the glimmer of hope in his voice. 

“Why?” Sirius teased, “Got a crush? Better watch out Mrs. Potter.” 

“So,” James said hastily, “are we going to take this shot or what?”

“Sooner is better than later,” Remus said, nodding his head over to the group of Slytherins that were following Lily back over to your table. You all clinked the glasses together and took the shot, chasing it with sips of your soda, or in Sirius’s case chasing it with Lily’s shot. 

“Look who’s here!” Lily said with a nervous smile. Snape was glowering at the group as was Barty. Regulus was only glaring at you. 

“Reg,” Sirius said coldly. 

“Sirius. You look like Bellatrix.” Regulus said, He hadn’t meant it to be funny but you all burst out laughing.

“You do!” Remus said between gasps for air. 

“I’m going to go buy,” Sirius took a minute to count, “eight shots for myself.” 

“Don’t be like that, Black!” Barty called after Sirius as he took a seat next to Remus at the table. The energy was a little uncomfortable at first but you quickly learned that the Slytherins had no experience in holding muggle liquor and they were very, very drunk. But, you all were very drunk to the point were words were being slurred. 

“I can get the next round,” you said, standing up and immediately stumbling. Regulus reached out to steady you. 

“Thanks Mrs. Potter!” Remus called. 

“I’ll help,” Regulus said, following you to the bar. 

“Thanks Reg. You know, you’re not so bad.” You said with a giggle, reaching up to ruffle Regulus’s hair. 

“I hate you,” Regulus said. He had been chuckling so you chuckled back but his face became stony as he looked at you again, “I hate you so much. So much. It eats away at me. It makes my stomach hurt. Every time I see you I think about how much I want you dead.” 

“Regulus,” you breathed in sharply and wrapped your fingers around the wand that was stuck in the waistband of your pants. You didn’t want to think about the consequences of using magic in front of a giant group of muggles but if Regulus really did mean you harm, the consequences of not using magic would be much worse. 

“Everything okay over here?” James asked, his hand on your lower back. 

“Fine,” you said, your heart still hammering inside your chest, “I’m going to get some air.” You walked out the back area of the bar where a few people were out there smoking cigarettes and talking on the payphone. There was a couple that were furiously making out and looked like they were near the point of stripping layers. You looked a little closer and saw it was Mary and Roman, unsurprisingly. You leaned back against the wall and fished a cigarette from your pocket and started patting up and down your pants for your lighter. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, looking around to see if anyone around looked kind enough to lend their lighter. The scarce few smokers didn’t seem very friendly and more and more people were leaving the creepy back area by the minute. 

“Need a light?” you heard a voice ask. You looked up gratefully but immediately drew your wand when you saw that it was Regulus. He was holding out a lighter but you refused, pointing your wand directly in his face.

“Get away from me, Regulus.”

“You didn’t let me explain,” Regulus took a step towards you but you snapped, 

“Don’t come closer.” 

“Okay,” Regulus said, his hands up. “I hate you because I’m so jealous. I’m so jealous of you and James.”

“Me and James?” You said, lowering your wand slightly. 

“I just,” Regulus pressed his fingers to his temples, “I haven’t been able to think since that night in the history classroom.”

“Oh,” your heart was thudding in your chest but for a different reason now. James made his way outside and said,

“What’s going on?” He looked between you and Regulus and saw your wand drawn and he stood in front of you, drawing his own wand, “What did you do, Regulus?”

“James.” You finally lowered your wand and put your hand on James’ arm. “He wants you.”

“What?” James looked at you like you were insane. 

“He wants you.” You repeated. James looked back and saw Regulus’s expression. It was odd, Regulus had a look of yearning and desire and a it was a little pathetic but you thought it was also kind of attractive. And it was certainly having a similar effect on James. His brown eyes were lust blown and he was breathing heavier than usual. He lowered his wand and looked at Regulus, 

“Is that true?”

“Yes,” Regulus nodded. Before you could discuss anything further, Sirius stumbled out, laughing drunkenly. 

“Hey, so I,” he paused as he took stock of the situation, “everything okay?”

“Fine.” You said quickly. 

“Anyway. Peter threw up everywhere so they’re kicking us out of the pub. You all ready to apparate back?” 

You all apparated back to Hogsmeade. There was an odd energy between you, James, and Regulus but everyone else seemed to be too drunk to notice. Sirius was practically hanging on you with his arm heavy over your shoulders. You had your arm around Sirius’ waist and you were using all your strength to keep him upright as he spouted his drunken nonsense. 

“Oh Mrs. Potter you’re so good to me.” Sirius giggled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Oh Mr. Lupin I wish you would walk on your own.” You responded. You saw in your peripheral vision that Regulus made a face when Sirius called you ‘Mrs. Potter’. 

“I think I can get him upstairs,” Remus said, pulling Sirius’ arm over his own shoulders and heading upstairs towards the Gryffindor dorms, Peter trailing behind them. Barty and Snape made their back downstairs towards the Slytherin dorms and you, James, and Regulus were left alone in the corridor. 

“We should talk,” James said. 

“Let’s get out of the corridor before we get a detention.” You said. James nodded and pulled out the marauders map.

“Looks like the charms classroom is open.” James grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the charms classroom. You stretched your own hand out to Regulus but he shook his head and followed a few paces behind. 

“What did you look at?” Regulus asked, looking over at the map that James was pushing back into his pocket. 

“Just a map,” James said quickly. You made it to the charms classroom and you sat on top of one of the tables and just watched James and Regulus. 

Regulus was nervous, you could practically hear his heavy heartbeat. James, curiously, did not seem very nervous. He was looking at Regulus with a calm and even expression.

“What did you say to my girlfriend?” He asked. 

“What?” Regulus was gasping for breath. He looked uncomfortable under the piercing gaze of James’ dark eyes. 

“You must have said something to her to make her draw her wand at the bar,” James seemed completely calm but you could see that his knuckles were white as he tightly gripped the edge of a desk. 

“I, I…” Regulus was just gaping and struggling to form thoughts. 

“He told me he hated me.” You said. 

“That’s unacceptable,” James shook his head. “Take your shirt off.” He said it so suddenly and which such force that you had your fingers on the hem of your own shirt before you realized that James was talking to Regulus, not to you. Regulus tore his shirt off and you took a moment to appreciate his delicate, blemishless skin. His skin was so fair you could almost see every single blue vein underneath. Regulus looked back up at you before looking back at James, waiting for the next command. 

“Take your panties off,” James said to you this time. You obeyed, pulling the red panties off and holding them in your hand. James walked over to you and took them in his own hands. He held them up to his nose and sniffed before focusing his attention back to Regulus.

“She smells good, Regulus. So good.” 

“Can I,” Regulus wet his lips and cleared his throat, “Can I taste?”

“On your knees.” James nodded and Regulus dropped to his knees. James walked over to you and stuck two of his fingers deep inside you. You gasped and grasped James’ wrist in surprise. He didn’t keep his fingers inside you for long and he took them out almost as quickly as they were in. He walked over and held his outstretched fingers in front of Regulus’ lips. Regulus wrapped his lips around James’ fingers and sucked like his life depended on it. James grabbed Regulus’ jaw roughly and pushed his fingers down deeper into Regulus’ mouth. Regulus took them well at first but James pushed his fingers farther and Regulus began to gag and his eyes were starting to water but he showed no other signs on resistance. 

“Good,” James said, a little breathless, as he removed his fingers. Regulus had a little bit of spit rolling down his chin as he kept his eyes trained on James. You felt soaking wet at the whole display and you shut your legs and started rubbing them together, trying to find some friction. Regulus’ eyes shot over to you then back to James. James then looked over at you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said, walking over to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve been neglecting you.” He sunk down his knees and carefully parted your legs. He sent a look back at Regulus before diving into your pussy. His tongue entered and exited you quickly as his nose bumped up against your clit. Your fingers reached for his hair and you locked eyes with Regulus. Regulus was studying you like a painting as you moaned and bucked against James’ face. James added his fingers and pushed his mouth up to your clit and you were done for, panting and moaning until you came. James came back up and kissed you, his hand in your hair this time. He broke away and rested his forehead on yours, just staring at you. He stretched his arm out behind him and snapped his fingers at Regulus. 

“Come here.” He said, without even looking over at him. Regulus scampered over and sat on his knees again, looking up at James. 

“What do you want?” James asked Regulus, finally turning away from you. 

“You,” Regulus responded, his eyes big and starry. 

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

“Well you can’t have just me,” James said, gesturing to you, “we’re sort of a package deal.”

“I don’t want her,” Regulus pouted. 

“Hey!” James slapped Regulus across the face, ”watch your mouth.” 

“If it means I can have you, I’ll have her too,” Regulus said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. You felt awkward, uncomfortable, like you were intruding on a very private moment between James and Regulus. 

“It’s not entirely dependent on your terms,” James exhaled through his nose.

“No, no! I can be good. So good I swear,” Regulus said, sticking two of his own fingers in his mouth to wet them before sticking them inside you. You gasped and looked rapidly between James and Regulus. “I’ll be so good!” Regulus repeated, using his free hand to pull James pants down and spitting in his free hand before stroking James. 

Regulus was very talented with his hands, as evidenced by yours and James’ simultaneous moans. Regulus made you cum quickly and he pulled his fingers out of you to focus his attention on James. You got up off the table and joined Regulus, taking the tip of James’ cock into your mouth and kitten licking it. James was looking at you both, beneath him, with lust blown eyes. You outstretched your hand and gently pushed Regulus’ mouth towards James’ cock. Regulus took James into his mouth and you could hear him control his breathing as he took James as much as could. James was rougher with Regulus then he was with you and you could tell Regulus was trying to control his gag reflex but James was borderline fucking Regulus’ face. 

“James,” you said softly, putting your hand on James’ stomach to slow him, “be gentle.” James slowed his movements and let Regulus pull off and take a gasping breath. 

“I’m sorry,” James panted, “your mouth just felt so fucking good oh my god.” James ran a hand through his hair. 

“Don’t be.” Regulus said, “It was hot.” 

You were overcome for a moment and you pulled Regulus in and kissed him. Regulus was shocked at first but he kissed you back. It was sweet and gentle, lots of lips and tongue and soft breathy moans. You broke away and you pulled James down to your level. You gently pushed Regulus and James closer together until James finally crossed the distance and kissed Regulus. This was rougher, harder. More teeth and light biting and desperate moans. Regulus and James pulled away and James said, 

“I want to try something.”

“Anything for you,” Regulus responded. James positioned Regulus so he was above you and Regulus pushed into you. Regulus’ body was a contrast of yours. His sharp contours against your soft ones. James watched as Regulus fucked you. Then, James pushed himself into Regulus. Regulus released a strangled moan and practically collapsed on top of you, his face in your neck so you could hear his moans. You locked eyes with James and James leaned over Regulus’ body to kiss you. 

Regulus came first, inside you, an action that you would think about later. You came shortly after still around Regulus’s cock and you were far overstimulated but Regulus couldn’t pull out of you as James was still chasing his own orgasm. James finally came, pulling out Regulus quickly and cumming all over Regulus’ back. Regulus pulled out of you and you all just laid in the charms classroom for a few minutes, breathing and savoring the silence. 

“Sirius is going to be so mad when he finds out about this,” you said, chuckling at the shocked expression of the two men in front of you. 

Taglist: @skyesayshi

[stevie-petey]

ive been feeling a little stug deprived but i cannot for the life of me think of a blurb idea so,, hit me with a blurb you've been wishing to write about stug :3

anon u also stumped me like i KNOW i have blurbs ive been dying to be asked about but suddenly my mind is blank ,,,, pls take this silly thing my brain managed to concoct

enjoy !

"one more loop around the block before i take you home?" steves voice rasps out, husky from lack of use. neither of you have spoke much as he drives the two of you around hawkins. its been at least an hour now; music plays softly throughout the car and the windows are rolled down to let in the early june nights cool breeze.

you lean your head against the passenger seat and listen to freddie mercurys smooth voice as he plays over the speakers. hes become one of your favorite artists thanks to steve. "i dont want to go home just yet."

steve grins, he knew youd say this, and you smile at the knowledge that he knows you so well.

his fingers are wrapped lazily around the steering wheel as he takes a slow turn back towards downtown hawkins. you watch his movements, illuminated by the lamp posts that spill light onto the otherwise dark wooded street. its late, the first monday of june and the last day of your junior year.

it had been steves last day of high school, and all he had wanted to do was spend it with you in his car, driving in circles around your small town.

you close your eyes and allow the moment to seep into your bones. youre in steve harringtons car, there are crickets outside as he drives you around the town the two of you met and grew up in, and youre in the car with the boy that you love and you know that he loves you, too.

"you still with me, angel?"

you hum. "im still here, honey."

"your eyes are closed."

"im enjoying the moment," your eyes remain closed and yet you can feel the smile that steve flashes your way. you can hear it in his voice, you can feel the shift in the air.

the car slows down at one of hawkins only stop lights. steve looks over at you and feels a heavy wave of affection roll over him. youre curled into yourself in the passenger seat, your hair spills over the headrest as you close your eyes, and its rare that he gets to see you so relaxed. "i can take you home if youre tired."

"but i love driving around with you," you mumble, feeling sleep beginning to crawl over you. but steves car is warm and smells like home. "one more loop, please?"

again steve feels affection caress his face when he hears your words. youve only curled further into yourself and your eyes are still closed; steve knows you really are struggling to stay away now. its late, he knows he should get you home soon so you can sleep, yet steve cant bring himself to deny your request.

"one more loop, but then im taking you to bed."

you giggle, happy youve won, but you try to argue some more anyways. no one else has ever been able to match your wit, so you revel in the quips you share with steve. "fine, its the first day of summer. dont be such a grandpa."

steve laughs, his voice is still husky and you can feel it drape over your tired body. "angel, weve got all summer to drive around this stupid town."

weve got all summer.

"promise?"

more crickets chirp and the car begins to drive once more, the stoplight now green. freddie mercury sings about the love of his life and how he doesnt want her to hurt him. your question of a promise joins alongside his pleads, and steve understands.

"i promise." he reaches for your hand and you feel his soft lips press against your palm. hes slow with the kiss, as if hes sealing his promise with it, and your body fizzes at the touch. "now lets get you home."

you bring the hand that hes holding to your face and nuzzle against it, too tired to respond with words. you simply nod your head and keep his hand there as a content sigh escapes you. steve has to bite his lip, scared he'll say the three words that terrify him.

youre everything.

youre his everything.

but steve has all summer to tell you this.

so instead he drives you home, taking the long way just so his hand can rest against the dip of your cheek for an extra few minutes.

[aemiron-main]

hot take but i think that mike’s hair and style is more inspired by pete townshend than freddie mercury. i can see the freddie inspo maybe for his s4 ep1 white tank top outfit but even then, that was underwear and imo is more likely a reference to a.) nightmare on elm street 2 with the underwear scene there and/or b.) ripley’s white tank top and underwear scene from Alien.

I talked about this in this post previously, but Mike’s hair and general style and even Finn himself look eerily similar to Pete Townshend from The Who (who, like Mike, is also queer), and The Who’s music was used in the S3 trailer (baba o riley remix), AND there’s a TON of constant parallels in ST to The Who’s album-turned-movie, Tommy (for example, Henry’s smashed mirror scene is taken directly from Tommy, and there’s also things like the Creels’ rose stained glass door vs the Walkers’ door, and a TON of other parallels including specifically the S3 fourth of july ferris wheel scene with the Wheelers which is a definite Tommy parallel).

Like, just look at how similar Pete and Mike look in terms of hair and styling:

Now, maybe Freddie was also inspo in addition to Pete, I’m not 100% ruling that out, but a.) Freddie, as far as I know, has never been listed as inspiration by any official ST costuming source, and b.) not that all inspo is officially listed, but when it’s not listed, we have to analyze the show vs the parallel & imo, the resemblance/parallel between Mike and Pete is stronger than the one between Mike and Freddie, though like i said, it’s probably a combination of both and I’m not ruling out Freddie entirely.

[osiris-iii-bc]

Papa’s playlists - music headcanons

Sometimes when I listen to music I mentally associate what I’m listening to the Papas, so I thought it would have been fun to imagine a 10 songs playlist for/of each Papa. I have chosen the songs by their personalities, the kind of music they have done and the general vibes I get when I listen to the songs.

Primo:

I see him sitting on his couch by the fire, immersed in his voluminous, rich vestments. He can listen to the heaviest doom metal tune without moving an inch of his body, fully immersed in understanding the lyrics, but 70s rock always brings back his old memories of when he used to throw small parties in his chamber whenever the Beatles or his favorite bands released a new LP.

The Beatles - Come together 

Black Sabbath - Iron Man

Mayhem - Freezing moon

The Rolling Stones - Start me up

Candlemass - Bewitched

Bathory - A fine day to die 

Mercyful fate - Evil

The animals - House of the rising sun

Slayer - Seasons in the Abyss

Diamond Head - Am I Evil?

Secondo:

He has two sides: the old-school metalhead and the devoted enthusiast of good old symphonic music. He prepares himself a cigar and settles at his desk, embracing the darkness like the nocturnal creature he is, to work on papers or perhaps write some lyrics inspired by his favorite arias. In his playlist, you can always find something classy followed by something extremely heavy.

Led Zeppelin - Kashmir

Slayer - South of Heaven

Venom - Don’t burn the witch

Giuseppe Verdi - Dies Irae/Tuba Mirum

Deep Purple - Perfect Strangers

King Diamond - The family ghost

The Doors - Riders on the storm

Guns and Roses - Coma

Bobby Vinton - Blue velvet 

Antonio Vivaldi - Four Seasons

Terzo:

Ah, Terzo. Whether he's completing his nighttime skincare routine, getting dressed for a mass, preparing for a date, or simply relaxing in his chambers with a good wine, he always has a record playing in the background. He's not a headbanger, but he likes to keep the tempo with his hands. He taps his fingers on his thigh to match the drum tempo of most rhythmic songs or moves his hands softly to the sound of the mellower ones, like when he listens to "Barcelona," adjusting his hand movements based on the virtuosity of the voices.

Candlemass - Well of Souls

The struts - Kiss this

Metallica - Until it sleeps

Metallica - For whom the bell tolls

Kreator - People of the lie

Freddie Mercury feat Montserrat Caballe - Barcelona

David Bowie - Starman

Pentagram - Sign of the wolf

Sepoltura - Dead embryonic cells

Mercyful fate - Witches dance 

Copia:

I can totally picture Copia putting on something groovy like "Stuck In The Middle With You" while attempting to cook something, swaying his hips to the rhythm and inevitably either burning whatever is in the pan or creating a mess on the counter by dropping bottles and food.

Alice Cooper - Poison

Iron Maiden - Run to the hills

Steppenwolf - Born to be wild

Dead or Alive - You spin me round 

Black Sabbath - Paranoid

Judas Priest - Painkiller

The Rolling Stones - Sympathy for the devil

Stealers wheel - Stuck in the middle with you 

The Darkness - Love is only a feeling

Bon Jovi - You give love a bad name

Nihil:

An old-school rocker. He would pick you up in his car with Led Zeppelin playing at full volume, take you to a bar where he puts on your favorite song in the jukebox, and by the time you come back from the toilet, he's kissing some random girl right at the bar counter. He would later apologize, claiming he was just drunk and thought that was you… a red flag you'll ignore.

The Doors - Touch me

Led Zeppelin - Whole lotta love

Elton John - Tiny dancer

Ozzy Osburne - Crazy train

Deep Purple - Child in time 

Deep Purple - Hush

Jefferson airplane - White rabbit

Elvis Presley - Suspicious minds

The Rolling Stones -  Paint it black

The Beatles - Helter Skelter

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 8th February, 1976 - Queen Story!

New York, NY, USA, Beacon Theater

'A Night At The Opera Tour'

🔸Freddie Mercury was taking tea on the 47th floor of his New York hotel. In his suite. The Royal suite, of course. It was the morning after yet another triumph for Queen - that brilliant and highly original British rock band built around the outrageous ideas and stage presence of the exotic Mr.

Mercury. They had played their fourth concert in as many nights at the battered but fashionable Beacon Theatre, and wvith an album and a single in the American charts, they were riding high.

Warm tea was permitted to slide down Mr. Mercury's regal throat as he prodded gingerly at some nasty looking bruises on the side of his neck.

He explained, My very promising pop career nearly came to an untimely end last night. Two young girls outside the theatre decided to claim my scarf as a souvenir. They quite forgot that it was wrapped around my neck at the time, and they very nearly strangled me. I'm sure Her Majesty doesn't have to put up with this sort of thing. But then, she doesn't have anything in the charts at the moment does she?"

He is a wicked man, Mr. Mercury.

He is also everything that a rock idol is supposed to be, and New York has been quick to recognise this. Like Mick Jagger, Freddie has off-beat good looks. Jagger has those pneumatic lips, and Freddie has the most out- spoken set of teeth ever to have found their way on to a pop fan's wall. He also enjoys the lifestyle of a true superstar - he lives out our fantasies for us far more effectively than we could ever manage to do for our- selves. Even if we had his kind of money.

His dress sense is sensational. He seldom looks less than spectacular, and he is not the sort of chap who believes in going unnoticed. Satin is his favourite fabric, with silk coming a close second. And he loves those loose, floppy, Japanese-style jackets.

But as he is quick to point out, There is a quiet side to me too, you know.

My home life is very civilised, and I hardly ever dress up to watch the tele- vision. Unless I am watching a Royal occasion of course. Then, my dear, it's on with the tiara and the emine ..

the LOT!

But Freddie felt there were better things to do in the city of New York than sit around sipping tea and discussing sartorial matters. He in- vited photographer Terry 0ʻNeill and me to join him on a shopping expedition, and it seemed a reason- able idea. Freddie was his casual self in short fur coat, white satin slacks, white clogs and silver snake bracelet.

The problems we encountered were little ones. Like young girls sobbing softly outside the door of a shoe shop while Freddie sought some- thing for the regal feet inside. And then there was the confusion of the young lady in Bloomingdale's depart- ment store who began to give Freddie a free manicure, only to discover that the nails on his left hand were already painted with black lacquer.

Freddie said, I love America. But l cant imagine ever coming here to live.

Our music is successful over here because it is so distinctively English.

We must keep it that way. I have just bought a new house in London, and an enormous car that looks like a boat on wheels. I could never leave all that.

And I have far too much fun ever to worry about a silly little thing like tax.

I know l'm terribly extravagant.

I always have been. My life these days is one perpetual spending spree. So I suppose l am the sort of person who needs to find ways of reducing tax.

But it's all such a bore. Why don't you buy a pair of these beautiful glitter shoes? They 're outrageous. And they 're cheap. And they re much more interesting than tax, don't you think?

I did think so. But I decided against buying the lurid footwear. You have to be a star to wear shoes like that.

Somebody rather like Freddie Mercury, in fact.

[sirserpentine]

The Road Trip of Hell.

@hazbinned Multiple Characters.

It was barely eight in the morning and Pentious had already hurricaned his way through the hotel for hours. He had first prepared a breakfast that could have fed an entire army, then woken everyone up at an ungodly hour, told them to get their luggage sorted and piled piles upon piles of pancakes on their plates with the reminder that their next proper meal would be many hours away. He had been a proper whirlwind, cooking, washing dishes and preparing coffee seemingly all at the same time.

Then he had double and triple-checked that he had all of his own items with him, before reminding everyone to use the bathroom around five times. Between each task, he quickly crossed out items on a list he had conducted weeks earlier.

Then, finally, he rounded everyone outdoors where Alastor and his amazing Radio Demon RV awaited. It was a true work of art! Large enough to comfortably transport them all, and stylish to boot!

"Before our holiday road trip commences, I shall remind you of today's timetable," Pentious informed as everyone loaded in their luggage.

"We shall spend most of our day and night on the road so that we reach Dante's Supernatural Reserve by tomorrow morning. We shall camp out there for two nights, but more on that later. We shall take turns driving and the switches shall take place after three to four hours. The driver has the ultimate power over the AUX cord and thus gets to choose the music. No whining for bathroom breaks, we don't want to fall behind on our ssschedule! Our first stop is the Gas Station at the West Border of the Pentagram, which we should reach by 1 PM! Alastor drives first."

The serpent barely paused to gasp for breath.

"That's all the luggage! Everyone hop on board! AJ, Frank, Felix, Francis- stop fighting-, Fred, Freddy Mercury, Frog," the serpent spoke, watching and counting each egg boi running into the large, vintage-styled vehicle.

"Princess Charlotte, Vagatha, Angel Dust, Husk and Niffty my dear, you too! AND YOUR MAJESTY, AFTER YOU-" A stiff-postured salute was given to Lucifer, who regally stepped into the car toting his cane and a plush duck tucked under his arm. What an honour it was to have the King himself join their week-long expedition to Lu Lu World and beyond!

With everyone safely inside the car, Pentious hopped in himself and slammed the door shut behind him.

"That's everyone, Alastor," he boisterously informed, greeting his partner director at the wheel with a quick elbow bump before settling next to him on the front seat. "And a lovely vehicle you have summoned, absolutely wonderful. Permissssion to drive granted!"

[le-trash-prince]

OF Episode 8 Thoughts

I’m sorry but I cannot deal with Ray. I cannot. I CAN’T DEAL WITH HIM. I could complain about every single thing Ray did this episode but that would take a whole post and it would mostly be me just repeating myself.

Love seeing sad heartbroken Boston drinking alone at the bar while looking at the one picture he and Nick had together. 💖

Boston x Atom is the hookup I would not have predicted a day ago and yet here we are. I support you chasing tail, Atom, but also I wish you knew what you were getting into doing that right in front of Nick’s face and I hope you don’t get murdered.

Also it was HILARIOUS watching Nick try to have a normal conversation with Boston as if he didn’t grossly violate Boston’s privacy on multiple occasions. I love that little guy.

I’m so glad Sand went to the party to be a wingman to his roommate’s stalker situation instead of just “I think I would have a good time at this party” that everyone was afraid about from last week’s preview

I ship Sand x Sand’s Freddie Mercury bi soulmate more than SandRay at this point tho. Like they could have had something but RAY. And you know when the guy is immediately like “I’m not getting involved in this,” that he would have been solid. He would not have messed around. TALK ABOUT A MISSED OPPORTUNITY

I feel bad that Sand keeps trying to set boundaries and create distance between him and Ray and Ray keeps stomping all over those boundaries. Like Sand is trying, I can see that he’s trying, but it’s not enough. I may rant more about this later.

I really liked the scene of Mew at the bookshop, and I liked how his shirt felt like inverse colors of what he’d worn at the shop with Top. I may make a separate post for this if someone else hasn’t already done it.

It hurts seeing Mew revenge era turn into Mew self destruction era, but I guess that’s where revenge gets you 😔

Mew kissing Ray right in front of Top’s sad wet face was nasty as hell (positive)

Top “I don’t care if Mew ends up with me as long as he’s happy” he’s really switched places with Ray at this point

Top showed his simp side big time this episode. I feel his pain tho watching Mew go down this road 😔 But if I were Mew I’d be pissed off if I woke up to find my pants off and my ex cuddling me, and that single action may undo everything Top did to take care of Mew lmfao

I really enjoyed seeing Cheum snap, and I am SO interested in what she said about her and Boston being third wheels to Ray and Mew. We’ve seen them being less than mediocre friends to Ray, and the easy assumption there is that they’re tired of being babysitters. But has Ray’s crush on Mew been the only reason he’s hung around the group for all these years? Have Boston and Cheum spent years feeling like they didn’t really matter to him? I love this thread and I hope we get more of it.

I also really feel for Cheum being upset about her friend group falling to pieces. Like yes, it’s a shitty and imperfect group, but sometimes that’s all you have, and losing it can suck.

On the ep 9 Preview:

I haven’t had a chance to go through the tags yet but I hope other ppl caught on coz WHAT IF DADDY DAN IS THE DADDY IN BOSTON’S PHONE????

This is me asking for a BostonNickDan threesome please just SOMEONE have a threesome

[natromanxoff]

News Of The World - 1985

(x)

[Photo caption: “No one ever loves the real me — everyone falls in love with my stardom”]

[Photo caption: Queen to Freddie is ex-lover Mary Austin — she’s the one constant person in his life and in line for his fortune]

[Photo caption: Mad or macho, Freddie always loves to shock]

[Photo caption: Performing is Freddie’s life. “I’m driven by my work,” he admits. “And I’ll go on as long as my system allows — until I go insane”

ROCK ON FREDDIE

As thousands of adoring fans flock to buy his first solo album this week, Freddie Mercury tells of the one thing that all his success and all his millions can’t ever buy… Sharon Feinstein reports

Freddie Mercury, the outrageous front-man of superband Queen, is addicted to his phenomenal success, but his fame and fortune have also been the source of his deepest misery.

Freddie loves creating bizarre stage images and thrives on the roar of his audiences and the beat of his music. But when the lights go down at the end of a show, he is left feeling lost and lonely.

"You can have everything in the world and still be the loneliest man, and that is the most bitter type of loneliness," says Freddie. "Success has brought me world idolisation and millions of pounds, but it's prevented me from having the one thing we all need — a loving, on-going relationship.

"It's like the old Hollywood stories where all those wonderful actresses just couldn't carry on a relationship because their careers came first.

"That's the way it is with me. I can't stop the wheel for a while and devote myself to a love affair because all sorts of business problems would pile up. The wheel has to keep turning and that makes it very hard for anyone to live with me and be happy.

"I'm driven by my work and will go on for as long as my system allows me — until I go insane. There's a voice inside me saying, "Slow down Freddie, you're going to burn yourself out”, but I just can't stop.

"You can't revel in the success and then, 13 years down the line, wake up one morning and say, ‘No, I don't want to be a superstar today. I want to go out in the streets on my own, or pour my heart into a relationship.’ It's impossible. Because this is it.”

"It" is being the extrovert lead-singer with probably the most successful rock band ever. In their 13-year reign, Queen have rocked the world in a way that no other group has before or since… not even the Beatles.

Today, Freddie and the boys — Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon — each earn over £1 million a year and need never make another record or undertake another tour. But they have no intention of stopping. Last year, Queen toured Europe and had yet another hit with Thank God It's Christmas, and Freddie released his first solo single, Love Kills — which made the top 10 — and began work on his new single and first solo album. Earlier this year, he and the band were the star attraction for the 250.000 fans at the rock festival in Rio, Brazil.

"It was awe-inspiring and mind-boggling to be up there, with all those people in the palm of your hand," says Freddie. "But the other side of the coin is that, though I was surrounded by masses of people who love me, I must have been the loneliest person there. Can you imagine how temble it is when you've got everything and you're still desperately lonely? That is awful beyond words.

"I don't want people to think, poor old Freddie, because I can deal with it. But I'm so powerful on stage that I seem to have created a monster. When I'm performing, I'm an extrovert, yet inside I'm a completely different man.

Of course, the stagey streak in me, where I love to jump around […]

"My love affairs never last. I seem to eat people up and destroy them"

[…] and be volatile, is real, but people don't realise there's more. They expect me to be the same in my personal life as well. They say, "Come on, Freddie, perform, give us some excitement."

The hunky, dark-haired singer, who takes pride in his rippling muscles and ever-changing appearance, once joked that he'd had more lovers than any Hollywood star.

"But they never last," says 38-year-old Freddie. "I seem to eat people up and destroy them. There must be a destructive element in me because I do try very hard to build up relationships, but somehow I drive people away.

"They always blame the end of the love affair on me because I'm the successful one. Whoever I'm with seems to get into a battle of trying to match up to me, so all the time I'm feeling guilty and over-compensating… Then they end up treading all over me.

"I can't win. Love is Russian roulette for me. No one loves the real me inside, they're all in love with my fame, my stardom.

"I fall in love far too quickly and end up getting hurt all the time. I've got scars all over. But I can't help myself because basically I'm a softie — I have this hard, macho shell which I project on stage but there's a much softer side, too, which melts like butter.

"I try to hold back when I'm attracted to someone but I just can't control love. It runs riot. All my one-night-stands are just me playing my part. What I really like is a lot of loving. And I spoil my lovers terribly. I like to make them happy and I get so much pleasure out of giving them really wonderful, expensive presents."

Freddie has admitted that he is bisexual, but says: "I couldn't fall in love with a man the way I could with a girl". The one love of his life and the only person he really trusts is 31-year-old Mary Austin, a quiet fair-haired woman. Freddie and Mary had a seven-year romance.

"Our love affair ended in tears but a deep bond grew out of it, and that's something nobody can take away from us. It's unreachable,” he says. "All my lovers ask me why they can't replace her, but it's simply impossible.

"I don't feel jealous of her lovers because, of course, she has a life to lead, and so do I. Basically, I try to make sure she's happy with whoever she's with and she tries to do the same for me.

“We look after each other and that's a wonderful form of love. I might have all the problems in the world, but I have Mary and that gets me through."

The seal of Freddie's commitment to Mary is his decision to leave her his millions.

"What better person to leave my fortune to when I go ?" he smiles. "Of course my parents are in my will and so are my cats, but the vast bulk of it will go to Mary.

"If I dropped down dead tomorrow, Mary's the one person I know who could cope with my vast wealth. She works in my organisation and looks after my money side and all my possessions. She's in charge of the chauffeurs, maids, gardeners, accountants and lawyers. All I have to do is throw my carcass around on stage."

Freddie is one of the world's richest rock stars but he never has a […]

"You can have everything in the world and still be the loneliest man'

[…] penny in his pocket and has no idea of how many millions he owns.

"I love having so much money," he admits, "but I don't believe in counting it. And because I have far more than I need, I give a lot of it away to people I like.

"I try to enjoy life and if there was no money I wouldn't let it stop me having a good time. In the early days, when I hardly had anything I'd save for two weeks and then blow it all in a day so that I could have a blast of fun."

Certainly, money hasn't always been so free for Freddie. Born Freddie Bulsara on September 5, 1946, his father was a government accountant, which meant Freddie spent some of his childhood in Zanzibar and India. After school, he did a graphics course at Ealing College of Art in London (he designed the band's logo, using the four members' birth signs as inspiration). It was in late 1971 that he joined May, Taylor and Deacon and the Queen phenomenon began.

The biggest visible mark of Freddie's success (and millions) must be his magnificent 28-room mansion in London's Kensington, for which he paid over £1/2 million… in cash!

When Freddie bought the house four years ago, he had three of the eight bedrooms knocked into one for himself, and filled the mansion with handmade furniture from Harrods and priceless Japanese carvings and paintings from Toyko. Outside, an army of gardeners carved out a country retreat in the grounds.

But the king of the castle still hasn't moved in. For the first time Freddie explains why: "Every person who makes a lot of money has a dream he wants to carry out, and I achieved that dream with this wonderful house.

“Whenever I watched Hollywood movies set in plush homes with lavish decor, I wanted that for myself and now I've got it. But to me it was much more important to get the damn thing than to actually go and live in it. Maybe the challenge has worn off now. I'm very much like that — once I get something I'm not that keen on it any more. I still love the house but the real enjoyment is that I've achieved it.

"Sometimes, when I'm alone at night, I imagine that when I'm 50 I'll creep into that house as my refuge and then I'll start making it a home. Anyway, as it is, I can only spend 60 days a year in England for tax reasons."

Freddie has spent the last few months in Munich putting the finishing touches to his first solo album, Mr Bad Guy, which he has dedicated to his dead cat, Jerry.

The album, which is out this week, is packed with new material taking […]

[Photo caption: In 13 years with Queen, Freddie may have changed outwardly, but inside the heartache is the same]

[…] Freddie in an exciting new and different direction.

"I've put my heart and soul into this album,” he says. "It's much more beat orientated than Queen's music and it also has some very moving ballads."

In between hard work he also found time to begin a new friendship with a German actress — 42-year-old Barbara Valentin.

"Barbara and I have formed a bond that is stronger than anything I've had with a lover for the last six years," he says. “I can really talk to her and be myself in a way that's very rare."

Among his existing close friends, Freddie counts Rod Stewart, Elton John and Michael Jackson.

“Rod, Elton and I were going to form a band called Hair, Nose and Teeth after the three of us," he laughs. "But it hasn't happened because none of our egos can agree on the order of the words! Naturally I want it to be called Teeth, Nose and Hair.

“I'm very fond of Rod and Elton. They both came to my last birthday party and sang happy birthday when the cake was wheeled in. I shouted out, ‘This is probably the first time the two of you have sung without being paid for it!' and they laughed like mad.

“Michael Jackson and | have grown apart a bit since his massive success with Thriller. He's simply retreated into a world of his own.

“Two years ago we used to have great fun going to clubs together but now he won't come out of his fortress. It's very sad. He's so worried that someone will do him in that he's paranoid about absolutely everything.

“I get worried about that myself but I'll never let it take over my life like that.”

Freddie has said that if he wasn't a rock star with Queen, he'd have liked to have been a ballet dancer.

He once appeared with the Royal Ballet dancing to a selection of Queen hits, and it was at a glittering Royal Ballet party that Freddie met Prince Andrew.

“I was wearing a white scarf and holding a glass of wine when I was introduced to Prince Andrew. But I was so nervous I didn't realise my scarf was dangling in the drink,��� Freddie recalls.

"There I was trying to be really cool and suddenly the Prince said, “Freddie, I don't think you really want this getting wet. He squeezed out the scarf and that broke the ice between us.

"I said, 'Thank goodness you've put me at ease. Now I can use the odd bit of dirty language.’ Then we both burst out laughing.

"He really got into the spirit of things and even had a dance. He's really quite hip in those sort of situations.

“I have a lot of respect for royalty. I'm a tremendous patriot."

Yet another unexpected side to the king of Queen. But then there's much more to Freddie Mercury than most of us ever see. Underneath the bizarre clothes and images that have become his trademark, there is the other Freddie. He sums it up simply… "Sometimes, I just long to be perfectly ordinary as well."

[brn1029]

January 4th

2016 - Robert Stigwood

Australian-born British-resident music entrepreneur, film producer and impresario, Robert Stigwood died aged 81. He was best known for managing Cream and the Bee Gees, theatrical productions like Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar and film productions including the hugely successful Grease and Saturday Night Fever.

2011 - Gerry Rafferty

Scottish singer songwriter Gerry Rafferty died aged 63 after a long illness. Rafferty had been a member of Stealers Wheel, who had the 1973 US No.3 & UK No.8 single 'Stuck In The Middle With You' and had the solo 1978 UK No.3 and US No.2 single 'Baker Street.'

2009 - Led Zeppelin

Led Zeppelin singer Robert Plant was voted the Greatest Voice In Rock by listeners of radio station Planet Rock. Plant beat Queen's Freddie Mercury, Free's Paul Rodgers and Deep Purple's Ian Gillan to the top spot in the UK poll.

2001 - Liam Gallagher

Madame Tussaud's waxworks in London revealed that Oasis singer Liam Gallagher had come third in 'The Most Hated Characters' list of exhibits, behind Adolf Hitler and Slobodan Milosevic.

1986 - Phil Lynott

Irish singer, songwriter and bassist Phil Lynott of Thin Lizzy died of heart failure and pneumonia after being in a coma for eight days following a drug overdose. With Thin Lizzy he had the 1973 hit 'Whiskey in the Jar', (their version of the traditional Irish song) and hits with ‘The Boys Are Back in Town’, ‘Jailbreak’ and ‘Waiting for an Alibi’. The groups 1978 album 'Live and Dangerous' spent 62 weeks on the UK chart. Lynott fronted several bands as a lead vocalist, including Skid Row alongside Gary Moore. A life-size bronze statue of Phil Lynott was unveiled on Harry Street in Dublin Ireland in 2005.

.</div></div>

1974 - Bruce Springsteen

Bruce Springsteen played the first of a three night run at Joes' Place in Cambridge Massachusetts. Supported by Peter Johnson & The Manic Depressives. On the ticket it stated: Because of the energy crisis all our outside lights except for one will be shut off.

1970 - Keith Moon

Chauffeur Neil Boland was accidentally killed when The Who's drummer Keith Moon ran over him in his Bentley. Moon was trying to escape from a Gang of skinheads after a fight broke out at a pub in Hatfield, England. Boland got out to try to protect the car, but left it in gear. He fell under the car and it started moving with Moon at the wheel as he tried to escape the fight. The drummer had never passed his driving test.

1968 - The Rolling Stones

The University of California, Los Angeles announced that students taking music degrees would have to study the music of The Rolling Stones saying they had made such an important contribution to modern music.

ed in your browser.</div></div>

1967 - The Doors

The Doors released their self-titled debut album The Doors. The album features their breakthrough single 'Light My Fire' and the lengthy song 'The End' with its Oedipal spoken word section. The album was recorded at Sunset Sound Studios in Hollywood, California over six days and unique packaging of the album included each band members bio.

1967 - Jimi Hendrix

The Jimi Hendrix Experience played the first of what would be over 240 gigs in this year when they appeared at the Bromel Club, Bromley. (Many of the concerts were two shows per night).

1962 - The Beatles

Liverpool's Mersey Beat published its first popularity poll, with The Beatles coming in first place and Gerry and the Pacemakers voted second.

1954 - Elvis Presley

Four days before his 20th birthday Elvis Presley made his second visit to the Memphis Recording service and cut two songs onto a 10 acetate, 'Casual Love Affair 'and 'I'll Never Stand In Your Way'. Studio boss Sam Phillips asked Presley to leave his phone number.

[giacofmanytrades]

MR SLIME MAN MAN ME A SLIME

Do you like slime? Do you like men? Here’s a snippet of a book I’ve been off and on about for a few years. I call it Obnoxious, basic plot is a chemist has a freak soap accident in the 80s. Cue lots of him, his best friend, and a class of middle school science students dealing with the consequences.

Alan Mortimer’s fingers tremble on the steering wheel. The radio grates on his ears and nerves. He dials down the volume, fixes his stare on the horizon, and drives for town. Where in town is the biggest question. Where does he even take something like this?

“Aw, c’mon,” his passenger says. “Turn the tunes back up!”

“Now’s not the time.”

“Please, Mo?”

“Nick, stay back there!” Alan’s right hand leaves the wheel, batting the orange figure in the rearview mirror out of the van’s cab. “We can’t let anyone see you like this.”

“But it’s a good song,” Nick insists. He sways a little as he tries to stay standing, hands oozing slime on the frame of the door that separates cab and cargo. More of the translucent fluid that covers his body drips to the plastic floor. “And it’s my van.”

“It’s Holly Hemlock’s van.”

“She gave it to me!”

Queen swells from the speakers, louder than before now that Nick’s nudged past and turned the dial. He flops right down in the passenger’s seat. No seatbelt on, the fluid on his body soaking into the pleather seat cover, he does a little shimmy with the music.

Alan’s knuckles go white. His back hunches in until his shoulders brush his ears, his eyes set on the road straight ahead. Every new pair of headlights makes him flinch. “Nick,” he says.

Nick croons along with Freddie Mercury. It’s a bouncing melody about lazing on a sunday afternoon. Nick wiggles his shoulders in time with it, like he did on the drive over. All of him glows orange as a traffic sign, getting brighter as the guitar solo fades into the DJ’s upbeat transition to the next song.

It all began that afternoon.

Alan, better known as Mr. Mortimer in the halls of Barks Junior High, was just finishing his last period of the day. Seventh period is always a challenge, but on a Friday it got even harder to catch his students’ attention. Most of his kids were counting the minutes and tuning out his explanation of atomic structures. Today he’d had to send his biggest troublemaker, Jimmy Rodriguez, out into the hall.

Jimmy picked at the frayed cuffs of his denim jacket. The kid had come with a warning label from the teachers at Anais Elementary. He’s become known for tearing his sleeves and leaving threads all over the linoleum, throwing wads of paper at other students, gouging marks into tables, and coming up with creative new ways to disrupt lessons. He’d tested Alan’s patience today by trying to pull the fire alarm with only fifteen minutes of class to go.

Jimmy stared at his grubby sneakers instead of meeting Alan’s gaze.

Alan sighed. “Are we going to have to do this all year, Mr. Rodriguez?” he asked.

The boy scratched his face. Alan frowned. His usual tactics for snapping metaphorical fingers in front of his kids had failed with this one, along with several others in his class. Alan planned to double down if the attitude didn’t shape up.

But it was Friday. October, too. There was a whole year for improvement, and problem students like Jimmy could be solved by the end of it. “We’ll try again next Monday,” he said, and reached for the boy’s shoulder. Jimmy shrugged away with a sniff and marched for Principal Miranda’s office.

Alan picked at his sweater vest, a striped pink number he’d selected from his eye-searing closet. Part of him cites this style choice as a way to keep students’ eyes on the garish colors. The part he rarely admits to just gets a warm fuzzy feeling from seeing them. His wife Mary-Anne claims not to know which reason is worse. Aside from these vests, he’s an otherwise well-kempt man of Indian descent. Tall, dark, and handsome even with his pocket protector, chalk-dusted piano fingers, and general air of teacherly campiness.

He walked back into his classroom to fading mutters. The next few minutes he spent watching the clock just as much as the kids. With the bell’s final toll, students milled out, ready to run home and enjoy their weekend.

Alan used the next hour to wrap up. He swept up the threads from Jimmy’s jean jacket, scraped the gum from under one of the tables, and finally sat to review the curriculum for next week. Once everything was in order, he locked up to go home.

He strutted the vacant halls of red lockers and beige floors, through doors overlooking an empty parking lot. The lines of parents waiting to collect their children were long gone. So were the buses usually stationed at the curb. Decorative gravel and ancient gumwads embedded the walls of Barks rising behind him, facing a courtyard where students sat and gossiped before the doors opened.

If this was Alan’s story alone, he’d walk a few blocks to his tidy house on Cleary Street and wait for his wife to come home from her clinic. Being married to the town’s primary care provider meant Alan had a lot of time to himself on weekdays. Most nights he hosted other teachers or fixtures in town, but he expected to fill tonight with grading, cleaning, and preparing dinner. He could already feel the future Sunday paper in his hands and taste coffee from a pun-emblazoned mug in his mouth.

Instead, a van waited at the curb.

The white utility van had Hemlock & Co. painted on one side, ringed in tiny white flowers. Alan could also see the van was parked backwards so the driver’s side door was facing him.

Alan squinted at the tinted window. He’d read about the old cookie factory being replaced by Hemlock’s in the paper. It was a nice addition to Perkins, he thought. While a lot of his students’ parents had already lined up jobs with the company, he didn’t expect to see its logo around so soon.

Then the window rolled down. The man behind the wheel was tanned as a surfer, with sandy curls and a chubby build that reminded Alan of a fluffy labrador rolling on the carpet. His arms were crossed over the door, a set of aviators on his nose.

The man nodded to reveal round-rimmed glasses underneath. “How’s it hangin’, Mo?” he drawled.

Alan’s face lit up. He hadn’t seen his best friend in almost five years. So the visit was unplanned and unexpected. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

Nick Cervos, over the top entrance complete, bounded from the van to hug Alan. He squeezed tight, lifting his friend off the ground. Alan had to tap his back for air.

“Sorry!” Nick cried, and set him down. Alan adjusted himself. Still, he couldn’t stop smiling. Nick mirrored the smile and looked Alan over. Nick had changed a lot. Over the years, he’d evolved from lettermen’s to leather jackets to lab coats. He wore one now, over a pair of beat up jeans and a bleach stained t-shirt. His shaggy mop was long and tied back in a ponytail, and he’d even shaved off the beard he used to have. Alan thought his face looked bare without it, but Nick never kept the same style long.

Alan himself hadn’t changed a bit. He’d traded the bellbottoms of yesteryear in for real slacks, sure, but he’d maintained his spick and span exterior. Nick chuckled. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” Alan asked.

“You look good! Like you’re doing good,” Nick said. He hugged Alan again, gentler this time. Alan had enough warning to hug back.

Alan weighed his own response. Among the style changes, Alan could see Nick’s face had new lines, shadowed under the eyes. Nick caught him inspecting and straightened up.

All Alan could say was, “I didn’t know you were coming. I thought you were still in Seattle.”

Nick laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah. That’s the thing. I just got a job down here.”

Alan held his messenger bag close. “You’re kidding,” he said.

Nick gave a wave to the van’s logo. He did a little dance as Alan processed it all. “Just got this beaut yesterday! I’ll explain the whole thing on the way. Annie asked me if I could pick you up. That okay?”

Alan stiffened a bit, his grip tighter on his bag. His eyes traced the path out to Cleary Street, behind the van parked backwards on the curb.

Nick followed his eyes, head cocked. Alan blinked out of his haze. A change of routine wouldn’t kill him. “That’d be nice. You know where I live now?”

Nick made a vague motion with his hand. “Somewhere close, I was told? She only gave me the directions to get out here. But I have you with me now! Get in! I wanna know everything.”

Nick hopped back into the driver’s side. Already the van had Nick’s signature scribbled all over it. Sarapes covered the seats, stacks of several more and some scratchy wool blankets tossed in the cargo behind. Those were thrown haphazard over stacks of boxes with the Hemlock logo. Stuffed animals lined the dashboard, Muppets and Pooh Bears sticking out from the menagerie of crane machine prizes.

Nick booped a finger to a toy lion’s nose. Alan sat back in the passenger’s seat. “Here I thought you’d changed,” he teased.

It didn’t faze Nick. He pulled out of the lot. “C’mon, man,” he said. “What about you? What’ve you been up to?” They’d called each other so infrequently since Alan got married.

“You’re looking at it.” There was no disappointment in Alan’s voice, not really. He probably should’ve been a little bitter, but he held a lot of affection for Perkins, Oregon. Nestled in the eastern armpit of the state, it’s a cross between desert and forest. Winters are below freezing with heaps of snow that degrades into pebble-peppered sludge. Summers are balmy and swelter until residents are inside with fans bought from whatever corner store is closest.

In mid-October, it’s all crisp leaves and damp, squelchy grass where it’s not clay. It’s Alan’s favorite time of year. He can already see students of past, present, and future shopping for Halloween costumes or bundling up for the cold months to come.

“Whatcha teaching?”

“Sixth grade physical science,” Alan said. “This year, anyway.”

“That’s good! Really good. Glad you found your niche, Mo.”

“Sounds like you’ve found one, too,” Alan said, giving the boxes a wave.

Nick flushed. “I don’t know about all that,” he said. “More like I got a niche, for the next year or so. The company’s launching this new soap in ‘88, so I’m on the hook at least ‘til then. Friend in the community said Hemlock wanted top of the line for her quality assurance.” He kept his eyes on the road. There was a pause, something Alan wanted to reach across until he saw those lines on Nick’s face again.

Alan knew what community Nick meant, and could only infer what Nick had been studying in Seattle. They’d gone to college together with dreams of becoming a physics professor and an enzyme pathologist respectively. Alan had followed his then fiance north and taught middle school science, but Nick had followed through on his PhD. He thought Nick would have been doing alright since then. Now he’d gone from researching fatal diseases to soap, of all things?

He didn’t get the chance to ask before Nick thumped the steering wheel. “Ah, shit!” He craned his neck to check the stacks in the cargo. “I knew I left them on the counter. I can go back to the factory tomorrow.”

Nick’s hand was on his mouth, his brows down. Alan jumped on the subject. “The Hemlock factory?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “I forgot those samples I was supposed to test at the lab. Base lab, not my little off-premises one. It’s just out-”

“Off Sundale, I know,” Alan said. “That place used to be called Flour Pour.”

“Wait, like flower power? Not floor poor?”

“Nope,” Alan said.

Nick laughed. “Damn. Place with a name that good never should have gone under.”

Alan chuckled. Nick echoed it. The sound hung in the van, clinging to the air between them like tar as they stared down the road. Gradually, twenty years or so of familiarity found purchase and settled.

Alan jostled Nick, who perked up. “I don’t mind going to get your samples,” Alan told him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. There’s been a lot of buzz about Hemlock’s.”

Nick hummed. He turned onto Sundale, a road that wound the edge of the desert. They passed an A&W and a gas station on the way, before the newly christened Hemlock factory loomed ahead. Behind the big warehouse stood a scraggly patch of forest, behind which was the residential part of town.

Nick parked his van in the corner of the gated off lot. He hopped out to open the door for Alan. “My good man,” he said, with a bow.

Alan rolled his eyes, smiling again. This would be fun, having Nick back in his life. Whatever funk Nick had been in before he arrived, it couldn’t linger long. Alan’s tamed since their wild college nights, or even their rowdy days as children in San Alphonsa, but excitement overshadowed any worry he had about Nick’s move.

Nick bit his lip. “Sorry, again,” he said.

“It’s fine, seriously,” Alan said. The factory had already been spruced up with a layer of yellow paint, Hemlock’s logo slapped on the doors they entered through. He’d heard rumors in the staff lounge that the founder was some New York lawyer elevating a housewife she’d befriended. This housewife, the eponymous Holly Hemlock herself, had ads on the radio in her trilling voice, all about making homes fresh and clean as a garden green. Alan had considered buying some of her soaps once they were available.

Nick led Alan through the office building, already done up with marketing material of a pale cartoon woman in a cocktail dress. Sprays of baby’s breath came from a bottle in her hand. Nick pointed to one. “She really does look just like this!”

“A cartoon?”

“Nah, but how cool would that be?” Alan gave him a look, but Nick shrugged at him. “I think there’s a movie like that. If getting hired means I get to be a toon, I’m all ears.” He mimed Mickey ears over his head and giggled.

Alan followed him through a set of double doors onto a long catwalk in the warehouse. The floor below contained half a dozen vats formerly used for mixing doughs and frostings. Now the Flour Pour’s old shortbread aroma had a hint of lemon drowning it out. It got stronger toward the middle of the catwalk, overlooking an open vat filled with a thick yellow brine.

“Get a load of that fake citrus,” Nick sighed, hand to his heart.

Alan indulged and breathed it in. The smell had been written into his memory with a warmth even real lemons couldn’t surpass, all from days of polishing furniture or dusting down his parents’ house as a kid. He liked the thought of the scent drifting down to Perkins proper once this place got really up and running.

Nick ducked into a door at the end of the catwalk. Sure enough, his box of samples was waiting in what used to be a test kitchen. He hefted it onto his hip and met his friend back in the middle. Alan stared into the vat below, then rose a brow at Nick’s box.

“That’s it?” he asked. It was just a box of dated bottles, the fluid inside almost clear unlike the yellow vat below.

“It’s just some samples to go over when I get home,” Nick said. “Holly gave me this grace period to set up and all, though.”

“You have a place down here already?” Alan asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for coming with.”

“No problem.”

Nick brought the box under one arm. “You are not gonna believe my lab! I have, yanno, actually decent assets, plus I brought this great couch. Still needs cleaned up but I’ve got time for- ah, shit!”

Alan pivoted. Nick flailed. Something wet had burned a hole in his sock. He almost dropped the box bending down to tend to it. Alan took it from his hands.

“Did you spill something?” Alan asked.

None of the bottles were leaking, but Nick could have. He winced. Looked like a chemical burn, the chemical doing the burning unknown. They were over an open vat. Maybe a bubble popped up and splashed him? It just seemed too far down.

Nick braced on the railing. Taking even a small step on his foot had to hurt. He had to bite his lip to keep from swearing up and down about it.

Dimly Alan heard a creak beside him. A groan like an old door being forced open, metal protesting weight. Yellow dribbled at the base of the railing. Nick saw it before Alan did. “Mo.”

“What is this?” Alan said, careful not to touch it. “Detergent shouldn’t cause a burn like this.”

The metal creaked louder. Nick set down his burning foot and breathed through his teeth. He couldn’t stand without supporting himself on something. He waved for Alan to get back. “Mo, I think it’s gonna-”

It was all he could get out before the metal cracked apart with a violent jerk, like a huge hand yanking the bars from the catwalk. Nick’s full weight was on a railing that was no longer. He fell with it. Alan yelled for him and grabbed at his lab coat but too late.

***

Nick had a split second to twist and see the yellow reaching up to meet him. He landed with a smack, given just a blink to hold his breath before he got sucked inside.

It didn’t take him long to let it go. His mouth opened to scream from the acidic goo eating away at his skin. The fluid poured down his throat, suffocating him until he was so full of the stuff he could feel it eating away the inside like he’d huffed a lungful of termites. Stuck as a fly in jello, the skin dissolved in seconds as the rest of his tissue was devoured cell by cell. Muscle and bones and nerves broke into microscopic pieces until he found a blissful, empty numbness.

With the pain gone, he found he didn’t mind being stuck quite so much. Something around him seeped in, calming yet utterly ecstatic. He knew these feelings were coming from somewhere else, but he didn’t mind feeling them either. It was like a song, a chorus he couldn’t really figure out how he was hearing. The voice vibrated through the new frame forming around where he was.

He could see it now. Just this mass of material he could move when he thought about it, quick to take on the shape of the last thing it remembered. Another layer formed around it, separating him from the rest of the vat. This done, the goo around him glowed orange.

His own material mimicked the color and glowed, too. Happy, loving vibrations hummed through his whole body like a strummed guitar. He glowed brighter.

The goo sang at him. The same syllable, over and over. It was like drowning in this innocent sorta happy, like his relief to be alive reflected back at him and then some. He reached for where it came from.

It was interrupted by a voice. Alan’s voice, shouting. Nick. “Mo!”

The word echoed around Nick, bouncing through the goo and off the walls of the vat. He was Nick, and he was in a vat, and he’d just been drowned and dissolved. And his best friend was all alone.

Nick’s body reacted. He rose to the top until open air hit him.

It was a strain, pulling his gooey shape out limb by limb. Everything was weighted wrong, his new self held together with strands of thick, yellow goo until he had himself looking close to what he’d been just a moment ago.

He laughed. It was a waterlogged, gurgly laugh, but it was mostly his own, rippling out like a wave. He was not dead. Not dead was good.

“Nick?” Alan’s voice, in disbelief.

Nick squinted up. His eyes must have changed with the rest of him, yet somehow his view of Alan was still blurry without his glasses. No glasses, and no clothes either, but he didn’t seem to need them now. This fact should probably have bothered him more. At least he found the weight of his ponytail at his neck when he sat up.

Alan just stared down, horror and relief duking it out on his face.

“Mo!” Nick called. “I’m right here. This stuff is amazing!” His new sort-of flesh fascinated him as he looked it over now, glowing orange again with his glee like before. He rubbed his hands together. The outer layer of himself oozed transparent off his fingers, making webs when he spread them. Still couldn’t see anything far off so well, though. That would be a problem.

“I’m gonna need new glasses,” he mumbled.

As he moved to stand, he could feel the top of the goo peel from his backside. Sort of rough, like the humming vat didn’t want to let him go.

Then he just… hovered above it. Like a ghost. He laughed again. When he thought about it, he moved up higher.

“Wait,” he told Alan. “I think I got this!”

Nick willed himself higher and just found more laughter bubbling out of him. He was floating. Actually floating, at least ten feet above the vat and twice that off the ground. Good thing he didn’t mind heights! He did have to stick his hands out to stop his ascent, tumbling end over end until he was on his backside a few feet over Alan.

Alan was back up against the other railing. He had a sample bottle in hand and was searching Nick’s face for… Nick’s face. Nick needed a mirror. Did he look like himself. His voice definitely sounded like himself. “It’s me, Mo. Can’t believe I lost my glasses. I think I have a back up pair in the lab. I think.”

Trembling, Alan approached. Nick rubbed at his face with his hands. The outer layer still didn’t stick to itself, though a few strands of it came off when he pulled away. He flicked them off. “Man, Mo, you will not believe what just happened in there. I scared you good, didn’t I?”

“How are you alive?” Alan breathed. His fingers tangled around each other. His palm was a bright, scalded red. Couldn’t be the chemical burn Nick had gotten before he fell, but, dang, was he alright? Not that Alan seemed concerned with himself just now. “The heat by itself should’ve killed you.”

“Gee, good to see you, too.”

“Shocked you! Fine! I just mean-”

“I know what you mean, but I’m fine!” Nick spread his arms. A few drops of that outer ooze dripped to the vat below. Little drops of inner, opaque goo sank in and out of his body, but it didn’t feel painful or anything. Seemed like breathing or blood flow, something autonomic he didn’t have to control. Basically the same as circulating anything else in a body. “See! Still alive!”

The fear on Alan’s face made Nick’s body warm. He found himself a hot white color. Fight or flight, like the goo heating up to move quickly. He calmed and willed the goo back to a yellowish orange. He grinned. He was getting the hang of this quick! “C’mon, Mo, don’t get dark. I’m still me.”

“What’s going on up there?”

Their attention shifted to the steps approaching on the floor far below. Nick and Alan exchanged startled looks.

“What do we do?”

“Uh.” Nick’s first instinct was to dive down, back into the safety of the vat. He at least fumbled his hover lower, just over the goo so the vat’s walls concealed him from whoever was shouting at Alan.

Nick peered over the vat’s edge. The man was a security guard, in navy blue with a gut and a walkie talkie at his hip. “You alright up there, sir?” the guard called up to Alan.

Alan took a moment to reply. His voice cracked at first, but he calmed to his usual tone before the guard could register it. “The rail’s broken! I was just on my way to find someone.”

“I can see that! You okay?” the guard asked. Nick stayed hidden as Alan gathered the box of samples into his arms and tapped down the stairs to the factory floor.

They carried on in their conversation. Nick tuned out as something batted at his ankle. No burn this time, just the goo rising a tendril and clinging to him. It buzzed again. Sadness chorused into him with a new sound, a purring pbbt like the saddest raspberry Nick had ever heard. The humming little song continued until Nick was almost guilty to leave the goo.

But he had Alan to worry about. Nick floated over the wall of the vat, then drifted slow and wobbly to the factory floor. Now for the tough part. Alan had the guard’s full focus, telling the half truth that he’d been here with an employee friend. The guard just rambled about drifters and needing to up the safety measures on this hunk of junk. Famous last words for a guy who left the door propped open for Nick to slip through.

His float picked up speed once he got out of the factory. He wanted to go full Superman, up and away to test this new ability, but he spotted his van and darted for the driver’s side. If he could get in and drive him and Alan to his lab, maybe he’d be able to learn more about what this all was.

But his fingers slipped on the handle. He couldn’t get his thumb to put enough pressure on the button to even wedge it open, the ooze on his hands making it impossible to get a grip.

“Shit.” Anxiety washed over him, setting his body blazing white. He patted himself down. His wallet had been left in the glove compartment, and he had a spare set of keys from Holly, but his other effects had been dissolved with the rest of him. What’s the use of spare keys if he couldn’t hold them, anyways? Could he drive at all?

He got a pretty good look at himself in the side rear view. His face was definitely less defined, even if it was a pretty good approximation of the human Nick Cervos. He angled the mirror. Peered for the deep brown of his eyes, but these ones were white with an orange pupil. “Jesus,” he mumbled, and his mouth moved but he could feel the word vibrate from all over his body.

He was studying the inside of his new mouth- no individual teeth, but there were ridges to mimic them and a tongue, and it’s only hollow to the back of his throat- when he heard voices.

He ducked behind the back door, hovering so his feet couldn’t be seen underneath. Alan and the guard again, casual and cordial about whatever was being said.

“You take care, Mr. Mortimer!” the guard called.

“I will,” Alan said back. “Have a good night!” He sounded almost relieved, like nothing in particular had happened at all. Nick glowed a peachy orange, proud. Alan kept so calm under pressure.

Alan leaned against the passenger door. Sighed, hugging the box to his chest. “I thought I just saw the craziest thing happen, Nick. You should tell your boss her products might cause hallucinations.”

Nick laughed, but it was a false laugh. A laugh who didn’t know who it was kidding, it was so fake.

Alan froze in his slouch, eyes wide. “Nick. It didn’t actually happen.” Not a question, just a statement of what he hoped to be fact. Nick’s silence earned a more insistent, “Nick!”

“Surprise, Mo,” Nick said, floating into view. Arms spread and glowing with a forced pep, but getting more real by the second. There was so much he had to learn, and Alan had made it out okay so this was all going to be fine. “At least you’re not crazy, huh?”

Alan just stared. Clutched the box in his arms, eye twitching.

Nick waved his hands and flicked a little ooze on the van. “Surprise!”

[magnus-sm-writes]

Every time Ambiel looks at Lucy I can just hear Freddie Mercury’s voice singing “love of my life” and I need y’all to know this

[in-this-light-on-this-evening]

Will I ever stop crying over Freddie Mercury?

I guess fucking not.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

"I’m knitting with only one needle

Unraveling fast, it’s true

I’m driving only three wheels these days

But my dear, how about you?"

👉 Today - March 4th, 1991 - Queen Story!

Queen released 38th single “I'm Going Slightly Mad”/“Lost Opportunity", in the UK (from 'Innuendo' album)

- "I'm Going Slightly Mad”

Written by Freddie Mercury

- “Lost Opportunity" written by Brian May in 1990 and recorded in January 1991 at Mountain Studios in just one take. Bluesy track that features Brian on vocals.

🔸Album

Design Richard Gray

Engineer David Richards

Film Director Hannes Rossacher, Rudi Dolezal

Illustration J.J. Grandville

Producer David Richards, Queen

[stillwinchester]

hello! 😊 I’ve got a prompt, it’s more dean-focused and not very original but could you maybe write something about dean coming out as bi to sam in the impala and also talking about his feelings for cas? congrats on having 500 followers btw!

10x16 coda (thank you for the prompt!)

“You know… you were in that confessional a long time. Look, man, I’m just saying, I’m your brother, Dean. If you ever need to talk about anything with anybody, you got somebody right here next to you.”

“Okay.”

But it's not. Nothing is okay. But you just need to keep going, tell you’re fine, right? Dean was always good at pretending, or maybe he just likes to think like this about himself.

They’re coming back to the bunker after their last case, silence in the car is annoying, so Dean turns the radio on.

“Freddie Mercury!” Dean says enthusiastically when ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ start playing.

“Better than your usually choices”

“My usually choices are as good as Freddie. And by the way, I didn't know you can appreciate a real music,” he teases.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They’re riding in silence for a moment before Dean speaks again. He’s not sure how actually he should start this conversation. And if he should do this at all.

“He… I mean, Freddie, he wasn't straight, you know that?” he asks, trying to make his voice casually. It’s no big deal, just the most normal talk between brothers.

“Yeah… It's a common knowledge, Dean. And I'm not Cas.”

Cas? Dean tenses up, feeling a lump in his throat. He knows! Sam knows. But he needs to be sure.

“Cas? Why did you mention him?”

“Because he's a dude who knows shit about anything from pop culture?” he answers his question with another question.

“Yeah, right… I just wanted to let you know. About Freddie.”

“Why?”

“Just because.” And that’s all. He said too much already, why the hell he thought it’s a good idea?

Sam shifts in his seat and huffs. Dean wants to say something, of course, but it’s not going to be easy to get information. Sam doesn’t want to push him too much.

“Okay, are you gonna tell me what's going on? Or we're still playing in this weird game?”

Dean bites his lips, thinking what to do and trying to get up enough courage.

“I'm like Freddie.” It's the only thing comes from Dean's mouth. He's staring on the road, hands on the wheel, his knuckles turn white

“You're not straight,” Sam says, he doesn't need any confirmation, but Dean nods anyway, still not looking at his brother. Focus on the road, you can make it through this…

“It's okay, Dean. You need to know that it's okay.”

Dean shakes his head. No, it's not. Nothing is okay.

“It's… it's not okay, Sammy. I'm broken, something is wrong with me.”

The worst part of this is that Dean really believes that. For years, he was hiding who he was because dealing with that would be harder than pretending he’s straight. Even if this secret was killing him inside.

“Dean, don't say like that. If it's because of what dad said…”

“It's not about him! But he was right, that I'm damaged!” he interrupts him a little too loud. He doesn’t want to fight, not now and not because of this.

“Charlie. Do you think she's broken?” asks Sam, and it’s the first time when Dean gives him a quick glance.

“What? It's a stupid argument,” he says, focusing on the road again. Sam can see hesitation on his face.

“And Freddie? Do you think he was broken?”

“I… No, he wasn't,” he admits, but he’s still not convinced. Sam just nods, he realizes that Dean need time.

“You're not broken, Dean. And you can love whoever you want.”

Dean clears his throat and says one more thing.

“Umm, Sam. I'm into chicks too, you know, just to be clear. I'm bisexual.”

Sam smirks and refrains from rolling his eyes.

“Just like Freddie.”

“Yeah, just like Freddie.”

The new song starts playing. This time it’s ‘Living On My Own’, again old, good Freddie.

Sometimes I feel I'm gonna break down and cry.

So lonely…

Great! Couldn’t they play something else? Lyrics of this song hit him, he turns the radio off, it doesn’t go unseen.

“And what about Cas?” Sam begins insecure. He hopes he doesn’t step on his personal space. “Will you tell him?”

“No. I don’t wanna risk. He could look at me different after that. You know, he could have some conclusions.”

“What conclusions?”

“That I’m in love with him.” He can’t believe he said it loud. But it happened, and Sam can do whatever he wants with it.

“Are you?” he asks, but this time the answer doesn’t come. He takes it as a ‘yes’. “Dean, you know, he’s an angel. And the angels… they don’t see gender, just souls.”

He didn’t think about it like this, but Sam is right. And that gives him a hope, that maybe… just maybe, it’s not unrequited.

“Okay,” He says eventually. “I’ll tell him.”

Sam looks at Dean, he isn’t sure what he’s talking about. He’ll tell him he’s bisexual, or that he’s in love with him?

Maybe both?

Yeah, both is good.

[insomniamamma]

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris  Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language.  Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

           "You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns.           "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes.           "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him.           "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average."           "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes.           "I know, I know--"           "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison.           "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life.           "Have fun, guys," she says.

         Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple.          "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face.          "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?"          "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?"          "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects."          "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?"          "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say.          "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine."          "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees.          "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you.          "Why?"          "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands.          "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn.          "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

         Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury.          At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him.          "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end.          "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly."          "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling.          "You ever seen this next movie?"          "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind."          "Oh boy," you laugh.          "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing  or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is."          "You know she set us up, right?"          "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker."          "She winked at me." Ezra dimples.          "Did she now?"          "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other.          "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together."          "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

         "Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?"          "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us."          "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now."          "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated."          "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt.          "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch--          Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window.          "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming.          "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified.          "I'm sorry, I just--"          "Get us out of here, Ez."

         You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter.          "What's so funny?"          "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers."          "You're laughing because we got caught?"          "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles.          "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra.          "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke.          "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze.          "Better late than never."          "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer