#listen I am craving content as much as the next person my brian is just fried

[iswateredible]

not sure if I'll finish this sketch so I'm throwing it here

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

The Four Times John Had Something to Say but Couldn’t Find His Own Words

I decided to give myself a prompt because I can!! >:) So here’s a Joger fic with a disney scripting Deacy. In order, Kiss the Girl - Little Mermaid, Reflection - Mulan, Baby Mine - Dumbo, and A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Cinderella 

There were hundreds of stars in the sky right now. Maybe millions. Tiny specs of light peeking through the veil of navy space. Twinkling and shuddering, fading and glowing. 

It was a sight John could drink in forever. A view that sent his mind wandering, a little traveler through plumes of dust and horizons on black holes. Gorgeous. Simply so.

And what made it better was that Roger was next to him, taking in the majesty of the heavens alongside him. Splayed on on the roof of John’s house, cuddled together under the blanket of light, they laid there, watching, never saying much. 

John pointed at a star that shone red, perhaps a planet that Brian said were sometimes visible throughout the year, although he couldn’t be sure. He looked over at Roger to see if his boyfriend was seeing what he was, but he was met with a pair of piercing blue eyes watching him intently.

A blush rose in his cheeks, wondering how long Roger had been oogling at him. He bit his lip, staring back, hoping he could make Roger feel as giddy with his eyes as Roger had made him feel with his.

There those two lovestruck guys were, on a roof, bathed in moonlight, wind blowing through their hair. Perfect for a kiss, right? At least John thought so. And maybe Roger did too, but he seemed hesitant, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

“Look at the boy too shy. He ain’t gonna kiss the girl. Ain’t that sad? Ain’t it shame? Too bad you gonna miss the girl.” John sang softly, a small smile on his mouth. One grew on Roger’s too, the oh so familiar Disney song being sung to him by an impatient John. 

“Oh you,” Roger pretended to grip before he leaned over, holding onto John’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling him into a kiss.

John made happy noises, his eye crinkles coming out.

♚

John looked down at his hands. They were quite big for his arms and the finger tips calloused from thick bass strings. 

He knew these hands very well. He saw them everyday and used them to make music with his friends. 

He looked down at his feet, only clad in some ratty socks. They were actually small for someone of his stature, but nonetheless his.

He wriggled his toes. Rolled onto the balls of his feet and back. These were the feet that carried him everywhere. Fun places like Japan and scary places like doctors offices. 

Then he looked straight ahead at the mirror he’d been avoiding in his bathroom. 

There was a face before him that mimicked his every move, but it didn’t feel like him. Sleepy steel grey eyes blinked and pouty lips moved but he didn’t think it was him. 

He touched one of the moles on his face and his reflection touched it too. He tossed his wavy hair over his shoulder and the mirror copied. 

He didn’t like it. It didn’t make sense. 

He touched his chest, his ribs poked out. John lived there, he’d say if asked. In his heart. Every experience and laugh and cry came from there. Not..that.

He touched the glass where his face was, not recognizing the stranger before him.

That wasn’t him.

Never felt like him.

And to think that’s all the world ever saw and digest. That person in the mirror. That vessel he had limited control of.

He didn’t like it.

“Why is my reflection someone I dont know. Some how I can not hide who I am, though I've tried. When will my reflection show who I am inside?” he whispered to himself, his finger pads tracing his chin on the mirror.

He didn’t leave his bathroom that night.

♚

The front of Roger’s shirt was soaked. Not from a spilled drink or sudden rain, but from how hard and long he’d been crying. 

John came home, the first sound he was greeted with being throat splitting cries. He knew it was Roger because Roger never did anything halfway. If he was going to cry, it was going to be loud and ugly. 

Panic set into his bones, throwing everything he had in his arms onto the floor and running into their shared room. 

Roger was on the bed, sitting at an edge, feet tucked under himself, arms wrapped around his middle. His whole face was red and splotchy, especially his eyes which when they peered up to look at John, shattered his heart.

John rushed in, picking up the broken Roger in his arms and holding him close. He wasn’t very fond of touch most times, but it wasn’t about him right now. 

Roger’s head fell into the crook of his neck, his fiery hot cheeks and warm tears pressing against his skin uncomfortably. His ear splitting sobs dampened into sniffles and hiccups, his whole frame still shaking. 

“What happened?” John asked, knowing that people usually cried for reasons. Roger was probably upset over something. 

Roger licked his salty lips, making himself as tiny as possible on John’s lap, pressing into John’s flesh with everything he had. As if he wanted to disappear into his boyfriend, the only safe place he knew in this world. John continued to hold him steadfast, patient in waiting for an answer.

“Was s-stimming in a cafe. Too loud maybe. Owner c-called me a spaz. Got kicked out,” Roger stuttered out, voice shaking harder than he was.

John nodded, his stomach feeling heavy. He knew that all to well. 

And there was so much he wanted to tell Roger. Every positive thing he could muster. But his brain was a little frazzled from all of this. He settled for something easily digestible and something that would be what Roger needed to hear.

“All those same people who scold you,what they'd give just for the right to hold you. From your head to your toes you're so sweet, goodness knows. You are so precious to me. Sweet as can be, baby of mine,” he cooed barely above a whisper into Roger’s ear, rocking them both gently, the bed creaking with every move.

“Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart. Never to part, baby of mine,”

“Don't you mind what they say. Let those eyes sparkle and shine. Never a tear, baby of mine,”

“Baby mine, Baby mine,”

♚

John was idly plucking at his bass, listening to the cacophony around him. Brian was tuning his guitar, Roger smashing at the cymbals and Freddie yelling (his way of warming up, or so he says).

He looked up from the shiny black paint of his bass, eyes scanning the room, staring intently at every familiar face before moving on to the next one, the feeling of sunshines growing in his chest. 

John never really had friends. In school, he was always alone, not by choice but by forced exclusion from his peers. He was weird and awkward and that was enough for everyone to avoid him like the plague for those 16 years.

The thing was, he really wanted friends. He wanted what he saw all around him. Hand holding and whispering and giggling and playing tag and shared looks and- all of it. He craved it so badly. But it was never allowed to him. 

Instead he was forced to watch from the sidelines, having only himself to confide in.

Those were miserable years. A dark time in his life he didn’t like to think of.

University wasn’t all that different, but at least the bullying and teasing stopped.

But it wasn’t until the package of Queen fell into his life that his days began to look more yellow, more happy.

He found a group of friends that he finally belonged to. Friends that loved him for who he was, never asking him to change, never ashamed of how he acted and talked.

He had friends to tell secrets to and share stories with. He had a group of friends just like the ones in his day and night dreams. The kind of friends he spent years praying would find him. 

And they were right there, right now, fiddling around, content in his presence just as much as he was theirs. 

Freddie, his protector, was plugging in his mic, tapping the head of it to see if it all worked. His eyes connected with John, flashing him a sweet toothy grin before continuing with whatever he was doing.

Brian, his older brother, was strumming Red Special, head leaning down to get a better listen of the finally tuned strings. He caught John staring and laughed quietly, head shaking. 

And Roger, his friend turned lover, was inspecting a drumstick for cracks or splinters when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up and immediately his shoulders straightened, a obnoxious and goofy smile spreading on his lips. 

People say dreams are childish and never come true but John wasn’t sure of that anymore.

“Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true,” John said with a lilt in his voice, as if he couldn’t decide between speaking or singing what he felt.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen, knowing John was communicating and not just singing for fun. 

Every expression softened, a pink dusting over Roger’s cheeks. 

“Are you happy, darling?” Freddie asked, a smile in his voice.

John nodded, continuing, feeling sparklers in his tummy when Freddie joined him.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep,”