#perhaps even bohemian rhapsody

[wren-of-the-woods]

I choose to believe that if Jaskier had been in that prison cell with Gordon for a while longer, he would have invented Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine accidentally hurts your feelings.

Prompt: friends to lovers - "oh shit, are you crying?"

~ here you go @yourlocalnegroko, i hope you like this 🤍 ~

The hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses dance around the small, dimly lit bar in south London. The warm lowlights cast a shimmer over the faces of the customers and in a corner booth, you, Lemon, and Tangerine sit like you do every other thursday. 

You swirl your straw in your glass, your eyes distant as you look at the lime floating in your drink. This afternoon had gone to absolute shit. The man who had hired you had snapped, abruptly ending the hit you'd spent months preparing, so by now you're a bundle of frustration and exhaustion.

Tangerine, always the more observant Twin, had caught on to your foul mood. He's known you since you were teenagers and it has always been easy to read the tension in your shoulders as well as the tightness in your smile.

He leans against his seat and drapes his arm behind where your head is as he looks at you with a hint of a smile. "Why don' we all get piss drunk and knock yer frown upside down," he says a little sarcastically as his voice takes on an overly cherry quality and he pushes his index into your skin. 

You smile weakly and Lemon, who is sitting across from you, joins in. "Psh, fuck sloshed, bruv," he grins and turns to you. "You, me, Tan, and some  'Bohemian Rhapsody.'" he asks and looks to the small Karaoke stage, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tangerine scoffs and sniffs, clearly hating Lemon's suggestion.

You chuckle a little. "No one in here needs us butchering Queen, Lem."

Tangerine nods in agreement with you as he sends his brother a stern, disapproving look. He looks at you again and still sees the sadness in your eyes, his heart clenching. 

"Bullocks, you're a bunch of pricks. Alright, fine, no singing," Lemon raises his hands in surrender and then takes a sip of his beer, looking suspicious. He leans forward and points his index at you. "But hey, how about ya tell us what happened, huh?"

"Nothing." You answer too quickly.

Tangerine crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Nothin? Ya think we're stupid, Y/n/n?"

You hesitate, then sigh. "Fine. I lost that job—the one in Munich, y'know? The one that would pay thousands? The old prick said he wanted someone more experienced."

"What an arse," Lemon chimes in.

Tangerine nods, his eyes softer. "Yeah, seriously, what the fuck? The fucker needs to learn some fuckin' respect. You're an amazin' assassin and he's what, some dick who can't solve his own problems?" he huffs and sips his beer, "he the prick with that comb-over we saw last week? Who does he think he's foolin', huh?”

You laugh at the mental image, but then your smile falters.

Seeing your reaction, Tangerine pushed further, his tone careless as his anger and annoyance built. "Honestly, ya don't need a git like him— if he wants some arsehole to finish the job, let him finish it, perhaps it's for the best. If he thinks he can find someone better, let 'im,"

Tangerine means well. He always does but he's never been the best with words. You're a little confused by what he means and in your vulnerable state, everything sounds bad. Your expression shifts from amused to hurt.

"Someone better? Why would that be for the best?" you ask, misunderstanding him as your voice stays quiet, "This job meant something to me. I needed the money and it was humiliating that he made me feel inadequate in a field I've worked in for years."

Tangerine frowns, feeling defensive. "Pardon? I-I didn't mean it like that—"

But it was too late. The sting of his words, even if unintentional, had stung and you can't help that forming pit in your stomach. You turn away, warm tears falling down my cheeks as my mascara stains my cheeks.

Lemon, noticing the shift, opens his mouth to say something, but Tangerine beats him to it. He moves quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. "Shit, are ya crying?" he mumbles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. 

You stiffen for a moment, still hurt by the implications in his words. Finally, you relax against him and allow the tears to fall as they stain his shirt.

"Darlin', I didn't mean to make ya feel like you're somehow less good than us or any other man in the field—you're amazin', better than most," Tangerine whispers, his voice hoarse with sincerity. "I was tryin' to say that that absolute cock is gonna have a hard time findin' someone as qualified as ya—I, fuck, I just wanted to see you smile."

His confession causes a warmth in your stomach and you sniff, holding him tighter. You're quiet for a moment until you finally speak. "I do realize that now, Tan. I'm sorry I misunderstood. It's not your fault. It's just, everything feels so wrong now."

Tangerine continues to hold you. "Ya don't have to carry it all by yourself, ya know? We're here. I'm here. And I promise, you'll find a new job sooner rather than later."

"Ya can always work with us again," Lemon suggests nonchalantly, popping an olive into his mouth as he looks at you and his brother, a knowing look drawn across his features.

Tangerine brother nods, pulling away with his hands still near your hips. "Ya know we love when we work as a trio—like old times," he winks and he feels like he won when he finally sees you smile.

You sniff and wiping at your tears with your hand, feeling stupid for jumping to conclusions. Your smile widens as Tangerine wipes his thumb under your eyes.

"Can I drive the car?" you ask him cheekily, knowing how much Tangerine loves his car and how possessive he is over her.

Lemon barks a laugh as Tangerine's eyes narrow. However, Tangerine can't bring himself to deny you anything so he nods. "Of course," he whispers.

When you disappear into the bathroom to touch up your smeared makeup, Lemon turns to his brother and smirks.

"You're so fuckin' whipped."

Tangerine's cheeks turn crimson but he doesn't deny it.

tags: @tansgirlfriend, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv

[transgendercastiel]

the best song ever is bohemian rhapsody queen. Just objectively. Well actually the best song ever is probably discarded in a dump somewhere or perhaps it’s forgotten by time but the best one we KNOW about is queen bohemian rhapsody. But the thing is bohemian rhapsody queen isn’t my Favourite song and I mean my favourite song changes from day to day opinions are fluid but even making these micro decisions I’m aware that no matter how much I like a song it will never be as good as bohemian rhapsody queen. And this means basically there’s no point to even listening to music at all I mean statistically there are better songs but am I going to hear them? No because I stopped listening to music because there’s no song better than bohemian rhapsody and if there is I’m not going to hear it because I stopped listening to music because there’s no song better than bohemian rhapsody. Anyway that’s why I wasn’t at the Taylor swift concert on Tuesday and therefore I cannot be the murderer.

*my lawyer whispers in my ear to inform me that bohemian rhapsody was taken off the top spot on the charts by mama Mia abba*

oh. Hm. I plead guilty of all charges

[indigovigilance]

Honolulu Roast: the story of a coup

This is a crack meta, but I think I found something. I cite as inspo and incorporate by reference this coffee shop scene breakdown by @snek-eyes and response meta by @embracing-the-ineffable

Preamble: a sign featuring the daily special isn't present, then it is:

image credit: @embracing-the-ineffable

I went searching for any kind of symbolic meaning and this is what I found (below the cut):

Honolulu is a Metaphor for the Bookshop

At first I suspected there was some connection between Freddie Mercury and Honolulu, since an instrumental version of Bohemian Rhapsody plays diegetically in this scene. But that didn't yield any results, so I tried "Honolulu Queen" and I got this.

citation: Smithsonian

Liliʻuokalani, the last monarch of Hawaiʻi, came to power over the tiny independent islands as the result of an untraditional chain of succession. She only held power for two years, until she was ousted by a coup led by American plutocrat Sanford Dole (as in Dole pineapple). Ionlani Palace in Honolulu was the seat of power of the independent monarchy: the coup began with a warship anchoring in Honolulu Harbor (source). Subsequently the islands were annexed by the much larger, much more powerful United States.

In a statement, in exchange for a pardon for her and her supporters, she "yield[ed] to the superior force of the United States of America" under protest, pointing out that John L. Stevens, U.S. Minister to Hawaiʻi, who supported the provisional government, had already "caused United States troops to be landed at Honolulu."

A quote directly from the mouth of queen herself reads:

"Now, to avoid any collision of armed forces and perhaps loss of life, I do, under this protest, and impelled by said forces, yield my authority..."

Following the coup, Sanford Dole set himself up as the ruler of Hawai'i, until ceding authority to the United States.

Aziraphale = Liliʻuokalani

Who else do we know that could be characterized as the ruler of a tiny independent nation...

...that is violently invaded by an overwhelming larger force...

...and then forced to surrender to annexation to protect their loved ones...

...and now their tiny independent nation is being occupied by representatives of the invading force?

I mean. C'mon. It's right there.

Metaphorical Parallelism between Heaven:Hell and Federal:Corporate

But indigo, you say, wasn't it Hell that couped the bookshop and Heaven that annexed it?

Yes. Just like Dole of Dole Pineapple, a private interest, couped Hawai'i, which would later be annexed by the United States.

Public and private interest are, theoretically, at odds, but America in particular has a long and storied history of these forces colluding and working together for common (and often sinister) purpose.

We already know that Heaven and Hell in the universe of GO have significant interests in common, such as wanting to bring about the Apocalypse (even if that common interest is in having a war with each other). The parallelism is there.

Anyways. Yeah.

Honolulu Roast.

If you liked this meta you may like: Baraqiel and Azazel

[right-there-ride-on]

For me the key to understanding SBR was to read it as a narrative instead of a jojo part. I feel like with the rest of jojo you can almost read each part as less as a narrative and more as a series of fights with a loosely connected story. When I first read Part 7, I was reading it through the same lens I do other parts; namely, the story occurs around the fights. What I mean is that I feel with most of the previous parts, the story was a vehicle for the fights, not the other way around.

It’s easy to say SBR is a fresh start / reboot but I think I just so strongly associated it with the rest of jjba that it took forever to me feel like I actually ‘got it’. With other jojo parts I feel most everything is surface-level (I don’t mean this in the bad way, just that, like the rest of the series, it’s very ‘in your face’). But Part 7 is unique to me in that it’s a narrative where I can keep digging and finding new things.

All this to say that it took me several re-reads to feel like I actually caught on to some of the subtext and other things going on. For example, while there’s blatant references to religion throughout SBR, I hadn’t realized how ingrained it was in the story proper until I went back and did the religious analysis of the text, which in turn better informed my understanding of the characters. So much flies over your head the first time you read it. For another example, it took a lot of time and revisiting the text for me to even begin understanding the True Man’s World, and I hadn’t even thought to seriously consider the cultural context of SBR’s setting until someone else pointed out how Ringo’s ideas would have tied in with Jeffersonian rhetoric about American Individualism. Maybe that was my problem: I wasn’t taking SBR on its own terms, and frankly I think I might have dismissed a lot of what Araki was trying to say with this piece by considering as Part 7 instead of Steel Ball Run.

Parts 1-6 are very enjoyable for what they are, but to be quite honest I don’t think they had a larger message besides fate and possibly abuse of power. They had themes, obviously - family and legacy as an overarching one; love comes to mind for Part 1, friendship for Part 2, the journey / friendship for Part 3, etc - but I don’t think Araki had something he was trying to say with them. He wrote Parts 1-6 because he had ideas he wanted to express, and most of those were action-oriented stand battles. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just an observation. The story functioned around the stand battles.

In contrast, with SBR I feel the fights are part of the story, and help inform the greater whole. Lucy’s whole character, as a non-combatant who does important things to keep the plot moving, reflects this change in approach. Sugar Mountain is dedicated to highlighting Gyro and Johnny’s evolving relationship. Compare Bohemian Rhapsody with Diego & Hot Pants vs Valentine. As a narrative SBR demands consideration of values and reflection on what we hold important. It encourages you to think deeply and pull it apart to see what it’s trying to say.

Again, this isn’t to dismiss any of the other Parts, and in no way is this an attack on them. Furthermore, SBR is longer and was afforded a monthly publishing timescale; perhaps there’s an argument for Araki simply having more time to do things. However, I also think the comment from Araki about feeling as though he’d hit his creative limit with Part 6 is reflective on his mindset at the time of writing Stone Ocean. Steel Ball Run was his chance to start fresh as a more experienced writer with a message he wanted to share.

This post is mostly just a reflection for how I want to approach other works in the future.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, November 18th, 1975 - Queen Story!

Bristol, UK, Colston Hall (two night)

'A Night At The Opera Tour'

This article chronicles the second show in Bristol.

🔸Sounds, November 29, 1975

Queen triumphant

Report by Jonh Ingham, pictures by Kate Simon

QUEEN ARE the type of group that make a man want to abandon rock writing. They pose questions and never provide answers. They exist in their own space-time continuum, visible and audible but keeping their secrets to themselves.

On the surface they couldn't be a nicer bunch of people, but they carry English reticence to an epitome. It isn't, as Geoff Barton said two weeks ago, that they're boring, it's just that they're reserved. Or in writer parlance, they don't automatically provide colourful copy. All my instincts as a writer tell me that there is a great story in that band, but after two nights with them I'm hardly any the wiser.

Skin tight

That their insularity has a lot to do with them being one of the most amazing heavy-metal and/or rock bands in Britain - with all the signs that they'll end up monsters on the order of Zep - is fairly obvious, but just how much bearing it has on the matter is hard to say. The enigmas they might pose mightn't even have answers.

Is there any logical reason why they present an image and persona straight out of the Beatles school of interlocking chemistry?

John is reserved, almost nonchalant on stage, as if it's all in a small, personal joke. When asked how he saw himself within the framework of the band he replied, with a small smile, "I'm the bassist".

Roger is his opposite, the cheeky sidekick in a Clint Eastwood movie, and attracting a lot of cheesecake attention in America and Japan.

Freddie is an original - one of the most dynamic singers to tread the boards in quite a few years. His attraction is obvious.

Brian is perhaps the biggest enigma of all. What is this seemingly frail, gaunt astronomer doing on that stage, striding purposefully and blasting diamond-hard rock? They're all equally strong personalities - like the Beatles there's no one major focal point. Ask four fans who their dream Queen is and you'll get four different answers.

Queen have been busy lads these past few months. Having disassociated themselves from their former management and joined with John Reid, the fourth album was seen to. Reid decided that a tight schedule wouldn't cause them undue harm, and figured on two months to record before embarking on this current tour.

Only Queen are driven to better each previous album - which at this stage of the game is obviously producing some excellent results - and 'A Night At The Opera' turned into a saga - culminating in 36-hour mixing sessions in an effort to allow at least a few days for rehearsal. In the end they managed three and a half days at Elstree with four hours off to videotape the promotional film for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Their first few dates had not been without errors and the quartet were still not feeling totally comfortable their second night in Bristol, fourth night of the tour. You'd never know it, though.

Like all other aspects of the group, the stage is sophisticated. A black scrim provides a backdrop bounded by a proscenium of lights both front and rear. At each side the p.a. rises like a mutant marriage of Mammon and Robby the Robot. Amp power is readily evident but the most extraordinary is Brian May's subtle set up: nine Vox boxes stepping back in rows of three. The only packing crate visible is holding a tray of drinks, and you may rest assured that no roadie will rush, crawl or lurk across the stage while the show is in progress unless it's to rescue Freddie's mike from the clawing crowd.

As the auditorium darkens the sound of an orchestra tuning up is heard over the p.a. The conductor taps his baton on the music stand and a slightly effete voice welcomes the audience to A Night At The Opera. The Gilbert & Sullivan portion of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' follows, a brief glimpse of Freddie is allowed, and then in a blast of flares and white smoke the blitzkrieg begins.

Roger is barely visible behind his kit, just his eyes and tousled locks. John is wearing a white suit and playing the-man-who-must-stand-still-or-it-will-all-blow-away. Brian is slightly medieval in his green and white Zandra Rhodes top, while Freddie is...

Around his ankles his satin white pants flare like wings - fleet footed Hermes. Everything north of the knee is skin tight - tighter than skin tight - with a zip-up front open to AA rating. But further south, definitely in X territory, lurks a bulge not unlike the Sunday Telegraph.

There have been sex objects and sex bombs, superstar potency and the arrogant presentation of this all-important area, but never has a man's weaponry been so flagrantly showcased. Fred could jump up on the drum stand and shake his cute arse, leap about and perform all manner of amazing acrobatics, but there it was, this rope in repose, barely leashed tumescence, the Queen's sceptre. Oh to be that hot costume, writhing across the mighty Fred!

Phallic

Freddie is not pretty in the conventional sense of the word; like Mick Jagger of '64, he is his own convention. Also like the Jagger of the time, his stage persona and action is unlike anything else. Although it borrows - like most of the group's plagiarisms - slightly from Zeppelin, in tandem with Freddie's supreme assurance and belief in himself - he always refers to himself as a star - it explodes into something that is a constant delight to watch.

He reacts to his audience almost like an over-emotional actress - Gloria Swanson, say, or perhaps Holly Woodlawn playing Bette Davis. At the climax of the second night in Bristol he paused at the top of the drum stand, looked back over the crowd and with complete, heartfelt emotion placed his delicate fingers to lips and blew a kiss. Any person who can consume themselves so completely in such a clichéd showbiz contrivance deserves to be called a star.

Freddie's real talent, though, is with his mike stand. No Rod Stewart mike stand callisthenics here, just a shortee stick that doubles as a cock, machine gun, ambiguous phallic symbol, and for a fleeting moment an imaginary guitar. He has a neat trick of standing quite still in particularly frantic moments and holding the stand vertically from his crotch up, draw a fragile finger along its length, ever closer to the taunting eyes that survey his audience.

Their show contains lots of bombs and smoke, lots of lights, lots of noise. They fulfil the function of supremely good heavy metal - i.e. you don't get a second to think about what's going on. When they do let up for a few minutes, it's only so you can focus in on the bright blue electric charge crackling between your ears.

Bulldozer

Dominating the sound is Roger's drumming, a bulldozer echo that bounces like an elastic membrane, meshing with your solar plexus so that your body pulses in synch with the thunder. Tuned into that, everything else is just supremely nice icing.

For three days rehearsal, after eight months off the road Bristol was extremely impressive. In speculative mood I quizzed people on how long they thought it would take to headline Madison Square Garden. I was thought a radical at a year and a half. John Reid smilingly assured me it would take a year.

That Queen should end up with John Reid is an entirely logical proceeding. Everything about Queen demands that the world eventually kowtows at their feet in complete acquiescence - so big that bodyguards have to accompany them at every step. Well, no - they found that an annoyance in Japan, but, you know, huge.

Such status demands a Reid or a Peter Grant, and whatever the causes for their leaving Jack Nelson and Trident, an elegant group like Queen is going to look for a man with class. Reid found the idea of managing a group interesting, and having to deal with four strong personalities a challenge. He only concerns himself with their business and ensuring that the year ahead is mapped out. In January they begin a jaunt through the Orient, Australia and America, by which time it's March and they begin preparations for the next album.

Reid's prediction of a year was proven highly credible the next evening in Cardiff. The band had still not paused from the rush up to the tour and spent most of the day relaxing and sleeping - no doubt a factor in their near recumbent profile. Also, unlike most groups, they were keeping their dissatisfaction with the show to themselves.

They stopped off at Harlech TV on the way to see a cassette of the video for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. The general consensus was quite good for four hours, with much laughter during the operetta. Brian finds film of the group educational - the first time he saw himself was a Mike Mansfield opus for 'Keep Yourself Alive' - "It was 'All right fellows, give it everything you've got but don't move off that spot.' It was terrible." You don't like Mansfield, eh? "Oh, I hate him - we all do... I was horrified when I saw it - I couldn't believe we looked that bad. I looked very static - seeing myself has taught me a lot about stage movement. Some of the things I do are planned for effect, but it's mostly just feeling the audience and communicating that back to them."

Arriving at the motel - several miles out of town - Freddie immediately fell asleep, John held court of a sort, joined later by Brian, while Roger went jogging, a daily event when touring. Tuning in to rock via Bill Haley and Tommy Steele, he became a drummer because he was better at it than guitar. All through school he was in bands; he only went to dental school out of "middle class conditioning, and it was a good way to stay in London without having to work". His mother thought it a bit strange when he opted for a career as a rock star, but she doesn't worry too much now.

The concert starts in much the same manner as the previous night, but there are signs that tonight is work, with posing an afterthought. The endings to most of their songs are magnificent and majestic, especially 'Flick Of The Wrist' and the rapid harmonies of 'Bad Boy Leroy Brown'

➡️ keep reading on http://jonh-ingham.blogspot.com/2007/02/queen-riot-at-opera.html?m=1

[demonir]

Welcome to Adrian’s good omens thoughts while he’s half asleep again, on todays episode I want to talk about how important the gender expression in the show is to me

Don’t mind the typos I’m lying down without my glasses

I really appreciate how subtle they are about characters genders and stuff, characters with commonly male names being played by actresses and they still use stuff like “sir” or “lord” even if they also get referred to as they/them. They don’t make an intense effort to make them look incredibly androgynous either which like- idk it’s nice.

Knowing neither angels or demons have a defined gender also feels so so so nice because it comes paired with the fact they still choose to present in specific ways and use specific pronouns because newsflash bozo someone can be nonbinary or agender and still present masc as fuck or fem as fuck and use either he/him or she/her and if they wake up 2 weeks from now and change that they are still valid.

Which takes me to my second favorite point, Crowley’s change in gender presentation. I know we all know or at the very least agree he’s genderfluid but like I want to highlight the way he does it because it means so much to me. He has obviously chosen to be masc presenting through most of history (that we’ve seen, there could still be periods of time we haven’t seen where she’s been fem) and idk abt you but I was a tumblr teen years ago learning a very skewed version of gender identity and expression where if you wanted to be genderfluid you had to look very attractive as both genders and also PASS as both genders convincingly (as well as being perfectly androgynous when being neither, this also applied to nonbinary people), as well as change it like every 2 days or so and have no preference? That’s the way people would make it seem to me, that’s the way people would portray their genderfluid characters in fandom spaces and that’s the way my teenage mind came to absorb it.

Now, it’s 2024 and I’m sure all of us with common sense know this is bogus but still seeing Crowley just sorta… brightened my everything? Knowing nanny Crowley wasn’t just for the joke, knowing that during certain scenes she was indeed being fem… but the most important part to me is that no matter what he was still HIM, they could have gone the easy route and have an actress play fem Crowley and be like “oh well she’s a demon she can shapeshift whenever ooooo” like so many people do with their ocs (I was one at one point) but it is still obviously him, it is still David Tennant playing Crowley and nobody else and when she’s fem she’s still got the same features the same everything and that’s somehow just… so freeing to see? It’s realistic, it’s grounding. You can be fem and still have overly masculine features, you can be fem and still have facial hair, you can be masc and still wear makeup, you can be masc and not hide your chest.

Now I wish this was all just… more obvious to everyone, I know some of this stuff because I saw posts, I saw people talking about it… but not everyone is gonna go through a 3 hour post scavenger hunt for extra lore like I do and these things are simply not addressed in the show. There IS a certain freeing feeling to the gender stuff not being addressed, it simply happens, it passes by and you might not even notice, but also comes with the double edged sword of people simply thinking SOME of the characters have funny genders but the others don’t.

Sorry I’m distracted rn bc I can hear a fucking bohemian rhapsody cover coming from my moms tv the timing of this is fucking wild, anyways I’m gonna try to get my thoughts back on track

So yeah, to some people like for example my aforementioned mother, the nanny Crowley thing was merely a joke and nothing else, not a brief moment of gender expression but just a perhaps even nasty joke played at the expense of other people. To her every other Crowley before and after that has been strictly cis male and mlm despite the fact I did in fact explain to her that he’s not, same applies to Aziraphale and perhaps even harder because we only ever see him presenting masculine through the entirety of it and trying to explain otherwise to the woman that thinks she can use she/he on me because I’m bisexual will not work (and she refuses to use he/him on me anyways mind you, or my chosen name. Says it’s too complicated, but I know for a fact that if one of the characters had changed their name mid show she would switch to the new name instantly…..yknow… just casual transphobia for me only)

I would like just…a passing comment or a scene that lets everyone know the nuance yknow? Finally something that cannot be disputed by everyone, and you might say “well but Crowley says he’s neither when he gets called a good lad” and to that I say yes but people still dispute the meaning behind it, my mom certainly would. And again you might want to shake the nanny scene in front of me and again I’ll remind you of people thinking it was just a joke, a disguise, a singular haha funny. You might want to gesture towards other scenes or moments or passing phrases but the thing is they will or have already been debated on because people will try to deny it no matter fucking what and it’s FRUSTRATING, so perhaps it’s just me being petty or wanting to give them a good ol fuck you but I’d like it if either Crowley or Aziraphale or both just looked at the camera head on and went “we are not men, also Crowley is genderfluid” no ifs no butts no second meaning just straight to your face, a giant “shut the fuck up” to annoying people.

Now I’m not gonna die if this doesn’t happen, I’m fine with that… it just sorta feels depressing seeing someone in the wild genuinely saying shit like “why are you using she/her for Crowley? He’s a man” my brother in Christ I am about to hit you with the mallet of knowledge and you won’t be able to look at that demon the same way ever again.

The gender expression in good omens matters so much to me as someone who struggles with her own and Crowley and Beelzebub matter so much to me as a little afab genderfluid/nonbinary (I’m not sure yet) motherfucker, I need to go bite some fuckinf ccomcrete right now man, accidental typo but I’m keeping it.

[drconstellation]

When Crowley met Jesus, and the other demon at Golgotha

You know the scene. 33AD. Aziraphale is watching the crucifixion take place and certain fem-presenting demon sidles up to him.

Aziraphale greets them, and finds out they have changed their name.

"What is it now?" he asks them. " Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?"

I know most you have learnt by now that Asmodeus is the demon of lust, and this is obviously Aziraphale's idea of a flirty little joke (perhaps the first we see? because he's the one who's really as "mad as bag of frogs" after all and that's why Crowley's made an appearance, because he was probably just in the area, you know...), but I haven't seen or come across much meta about the first suggested name, which is a GO "lead balloon" moment.

Mephistopheles, Aziraphale? That's the name you thought of here? Of all places? jfc...you bad, bad angel! lmoa! This is a serious, sombre situation you are witnessing!

Mephistopheles is the name of the fictional demon sent to do a deal with the character Faust in a story that dates back to Germany in the early 1500s. Faust was a like a scientist in his day, well educated in things like alchemy and astrology and other mystical arts, maybe even having wizard powers (why not?) But he was hungry for more power so he did a deal with the devil for 24 years of assistance to achieve and gain anything he desired, and at the end of that time he would be claimed by Hell. Needless to say, despite starting off well it didn't have a happy ending. (I wont go into details as there are lots of variants, and its not that short, and they aren't all that relevant to the point of the post.)

It has been a hugely influential story ever since, appearing in many forms over the years; in opera, theater, movies, novels, adaptations such as Oscar Wilde's The Portrait of Dorian Grey, and Queen's famous song Bohemian Rhapsody. Terry Pratchett also did a parody of it in his 1990 book Eric, and readers have often noted the similarity to the Hell depicted there to the Hell in GO.

Its the origin of the idiom "to do a deal with the devil" and a Faustian bargain. The mortals that enter into the deal with a powerful supernatural entity are usually set up to fail, and we go along with it because we are so used to the trope, its one we've come to expect the bargainer to fail in some spectacular fashion. It's one that keeps being repeated again and again because it so interesting to explore - often the protagonist is looking for some form of happiness, sometimes revenge, and hopes the deal will deliver, but find out the hard way that they should be careful what they wish for because the delivery is a two-edged sword. They may find out that they don't actually want what they thought they wanted, or they get what they want in an very unexpected way.

Back to Golgotha, and our demon and angel. We learn the demon has merely modified their name to Crowley. And yes, they met Jesus.

C: "Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."

A: "Why?"

C: "He's a carpenter from Galilee, his travel opportunities are limited."

This is a reference to one of the the tests of faith Jesus was put through before his crucifixion, from the Book of Matthew.

I like this modern version I found:

For the third test, the Devil took him to the peak of a huge mountain. He gestured expansively, pointing out all the earth’s kingdoms, how glorious they all were. Then he said, “They’re yours—lock, stock, and barrel. Just go down on your knees and worship me, and they’re yours.” Jesus’ refusal was curt: “Beat it, Satan!” He backed his rebuke with a third quotation from Deuteronomy: “Worship the Lord your God, and only him. Serve him with absolute single-heartedness.” The Test was over. The Devil left. And in his place, angels! Angels came and took care of Jesus’ needs. Matthew 4:8-11 The Message

Or, you could say: Crowley showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world, and offered the bargain that he could rule them all if he would renounce God and worship Satan instead, but Jesus just turned to the demonic messenger and simply told him to "fuck off!"

And there we have it, folks. Mephistopheles, and Asmodeus. Touche, Aziraphale, you sly little shit stirrer.

[alittlesilhouettoofaman]

I think there's an important distinction between Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocket Man that isn't taken into consideration when they're compared and criticized.

Bohemian Rhapsody is often criticized for sugarcoating Freddie Mercury's life. The viewer is left wondering who the real Freddie Mercury is.

However, Rocket Man is praised for being a very personal and intimate look at who Elton John is.

But the difference is that Elton John is alive.

Freddie Mercury is not.

Elton can tell us what he wants us to know.

Freddie doesn't have that luxury. He has to depend on those who knew him to tell his story.

Brian and Roger want to protect Freddie, even now. They were very careful with the parts of Freddie exposed in Bohemian Rhapsody.

I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing, especially when we have exploitative biopics like Blonde or Pam and Tommy. I do wish we had gotten more from Bohemian Rhapsody. But I can't help but wonder if anyone ever really knew Freddie.

He was so guarded with his personal life, and his true friends were few and far between. He was a persona, a character, and an enigma.

I'm not sure what Bohemian Rhapsody would have been like if he'd been alive. I'm not sure if Freddie would have ever gotten to a point in his life where he was comfortable with "telling all."

I highly doubt that Elton John told all with Rocket Man. I think he told a lot, but I'm sure there's plenty he kept to himself.

All that to say, yes, Bohemian Rhapsody is perhaps not a great look at who Freddie really was. But he's dead. He has no say in what he wants us to know. Instead, Brian and Roger are in charge, and they loved, love Freddie. Of course, they want to protect his memory.

Wouldn't you do the same?

When we lose someone, we love, we have a tendency of overlooking their flaws. We have a tendency of remembering them differently in death than in life. We want to share the very best of the person we lost.

Perhaps, Ed Sheeran said it best, "And everyone I love will know exactly who you are."

[regendary]

I started writing a tweet for the “what Jojo opinion will have you like this? (/unpopular opinion)” and then I thought it would be better as a tumblr post so here goes

I’m not too familiar with the opinions of the Jojo fandom, but I have to say: I’m not really here for the “this character just has a superpower and we gave them a little creature or perhaps an object to represent it” Stands

Offenders include:

Sky High

Technically Bohemian Rhapsody but I give it a pass bc that arc was cool

Tusk acts 1-3

Boku no Rhythm

Catch the Rainbow

Cream Starter

Ball Breaker (this one also kinda gets a pass because of the symbolism)

I think that I should look at an enemy Stand and be afraid of IT, not the user or some outside thing

And it’s not even like all of these are bad stands! I happen to like a lot of the powers they have! But part of what I like about stands as a power system is that they’re not just superpowers, they have bodies and designs and THEY are the threat.

There have been cases where it SEEMS like the user is using the powers of their Stand directly (i.e. Avdol controlling fire, Kira touching something with his hand and blowing it up, etc.) but I’ve always read this as *synchronization* rather than these things actually being the case. Both Kira and Avdol were extremely skilled Stand users with years of experience, to the point where using the abilities of their Stand was as natural to them as using their own body. I always really enjoyed this, because it felt like a metaphor for understanding yourself well and knowing both your abilities and your limits. In the same vein, I don’t think it would’ve been out of place if Kakyoin fired an Emerald Splash from his own hands, since his understanding of Hierophant Green is on a similar level.

This leads to a really cool effect where it becomes harder to tell where the Stand ends and the user begins, abilities-wise, and I think THAT should be the standard! Have Josuke touch things and fix them, have Okuyasu erase things with his right hand—Hell, look at ROHAN! He was so skilled with Heaven’s Door that it didn’t even have a distinct appearance at first, only gaining one once he got a better understanding of other Stands!

I feel like we’ve lost a lot of that starting as early as part 5. Not to say that part 5 and onward are bad parts, I recently finished SBR and am working through JoJolion and I’m loving it! But I will always be partial to Stand/user overlap, and I think that the best Stands have cool abilities but can also deck you in the face. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, feel free to tell me I’m wrong and also a dumbass if you feel so inclined

[glass-needles-and-futurisms]

I keep thinking back to Muse playing Survival at the closing ceremonies of the 2012 London Olympics, and I keep saying that one of these days I'm just gonna spew all my feelings about how it's not just one of my all-time favorite Muse moments, but also a hilarious, if perhaps unintentional, moment of social commentary.

I still remember our postgrad professor showing those same closing ceremonies in class, explaining the not-so-subtle propagandistic purpose the entire spectacle served on the global stage. (For those who don't know, the 2012 Olympics closing ceremonies were essentially a three-hour star-studded tribute to UK music and pop culture.)

Picture this: you just sat through about two hours of the UK's various national exports - One Direction, the Spice Girls, the Pet Shop Boys, George Michael, Ed Sheeran, Annie Lennox, erm, Russell Brand. You've just seen live performances of Bohemian Rhapsody, Imagine, Wonderwall, and Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, alongside tributes to David Bowie and Freddie Mercury. And you still have Queen, Take That and The Who to go after this.

Interestingly, that class glossed over what an afterthought the Muse performance felt like by comparison. You could argue a lot of extenuating circumstances: the controversial reception of Survival as the official London Olympics theme song, the infamous NBC debacle where it inadvertently got cut from the US broadcast of the ceremonies, or the simple fact that this far into the festivities, a fairly straightforward stage performance* by a band with slightly less name recognition than Coldplay was pretty underwhelming.

* Not sure if this is common knowledge, but apparently this performance was mostly playback with the exception of Matt's vocals. Which also makes this an underappreciated entry in the annals of Muse miming shenanigans.

But something becomes very apparent once you actually reach this part of the show: Survival is fucking bananas. I'll never forget that one internet commenter calling it the world's most epic villain song that doesn't know it's a villain song. I mean, just look at the lyrics:

Life's a race / and I am gonna win

And I'll light the fuse / and I'll never lose

And I choose to survive / whatever it takes

You won't pull ahead / I'll keep up the pace

And I'll reveal my strength / to the whole human race

This is how the song starts! You can sort of see the logic behind making it the Olympics theme song. And then it gets weirder from there:

Yes, I am prepared / to stay alive

I won't forgive / the vengeance is mine

And I won't give in / because I choose to thrive

Yeah, I'm gonna wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

Good grief. No wonder it's called "Survival". The song makes slightly more sense in the thematic context of The 2nd Law, the album it was released on. But on its own it's just.... yeah.

And this performance ramps up the insanity even more by just taking the piss. Between Matt Bellamy peacocking in a sparkly suit and Union Jack t-shirt, the batshit guitar solo, the pyro, the backing choir, and the fact that everything onstage (including the grand piano) is pretty much just for show (and wobbling like mad), Survival feels cheesy and irreverent in a way that makes you suddenly hyper-conscious of how tightly orchestrated everything else you just saw (including the Monty Python and Mr. Bean stuff) was. Remember that this was all broadcast to an international audience of millions.

Pairing the sheer pageantry of the ceremonies thus far with the actual lyrics of Survival kinda puts everything in an uncomfortable new light. Then it dawns on you that you pretty much just watched an accidental three-hour love letter to British imperialism. (Okay maybe that's overselling it a bit but it's still pretty funny.)

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 23 - Prompt: Bite @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 737 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

The DJ booth suddenly lit up with strobe lights and the powerful harmonies of Bohemian Rhapsody slowly gained volume from the white gazebo-style bandstand. As Queen announced the beginning of the evening’s festivities, Sirius and Remus reappeared from their journey to the car park. Their heads were nearly touching as they leaned in to whisper to each other.

“About time!” James called out, unfolding from the ground while lifting his boyfriend to his feet. “Stop gossiping, it’s time to dance.”

“Rude.” Regulus huffed, then dragged Pandora up with him.

Lily quickly joined them as they made their way across the park. As much as she’d enjoyed their sitting arrangement in the festival stall, the deep, visceral need to align her own heartbeat to the steady bass pumping through massive speakers thrummed through her. There was nothing quite as exhilarating as losing herself in a crowd of people who were all attuned to the same song. It satisfied – or perhaps, soothed – a biting urgency in her soul.

“Are you really going to dance?” Pandora asked, nudging Regulus’s shoulder. “In front of all these people?”

Regulus eyed the crowd gathering around the bandstand. “Merde. Where did they all come from?”

“Don’t worry, Regulus. Pandora and I will distract them, won’t we?” Lily teased, reaching for Pandora’s hand.

The crowd’s enthusiasm was contagious and the moment she joined them, Lily was overflowing with it. She twirled the blonde in a circle until her skirt fanned out and a startled laugh burst from her lips. Pandora’s cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled with amusement when she met Lily’s gaze again. Without hesitation, she framed Pandora’s cheeks with her hands and admired the woman with a soft smile.

“Laughter looks good on you.”

Pandora grinned as she wrapped her fingers around Lily’s wrists and dragged her hands down to her neck. She tipped her head back and arched an eyebrow in silent challenge.

Lily’s fingertips caressed that lovely throat all on their own. She didn’t even notice until Pandora inhaled sharply. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t say ‘stop,’” Pandora said, her voice low. Her thumbs stroked the sensitive skin of Lily’s wrists. “I don’t think I’d ever tell you to stop.”

A vivid awareness of Regulus’s curious stare and the rowdy crowd around them broke whatever trance she’d momentarily fallen into. Lily startled and released Pandora abruptly, but her wrists were still held captive. Pandora laughed carelessly as she tossed Lily’s arms in the air to twirl beneath them again.

The lazy beat of Take Me to Church drifted through the speakers and Hozier’s lyrics danced over her lips as she watched Pandora sway. The hem of her colourful patchwork skirt drifted through the grass and the dormant blades shivered around her feet as if she wielded the wind herself. Lily wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

“My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the Heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece.”

Pandora’s sparkling blue eyes fell closed as her arms lifted over her head until her fingertips skimmed Lily’s palms. Her graceful movements were embraced by the music rather than the other way around. The delighted smile curving her lips captured Lily’s gaze and held her hostage. Her own body followed the path Pandora laid out as she sang to her.

“If I'm a pagan of the good times

My lover's the sunlight

To keep the Goddess on my side

She demands a sacrifice

Drain the whole sea

Get something shiny.”

Pandora’s lashes fluttered as she swayed closer and closer. Lily’s arms draped over Pandora’s shoulders while her arms wrapped around Lily’s waist. Their bodies fit like puzzle pieces, as though they were meant to be pressed together. The wistful thought tugged at her heavily barricaded heart.

“Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life.”

As the song slowly faded out, Lily allowed herself to drift in the contentment of Pandora’s arms. The strength and intensity this woman hid beneath such a soft, angelic appearance was enchanting. She was enchanting.

What a lovely creature. She’s a fairy or woodland sprite determined to lure me away from home.

I think I’d let her.

Next Part>>>

[v3nusxsky]

Hey not sure if this is how to request but could you maybe do a platonic lesso and student!r based on bohemian rhapsody. Specifically the lyrics ‘mama i dont wanna die. Sometimes wish id never been born at all’ 🙃👍 thank you and i love your writing and ur fics are always comforting x

Why do i get this life?

*Authors note~ feeling slightly angsty here so I thought I'd smash this one out while I'm in that mindset I’m glad you all and my anon here are enjoying my fics I’m enjoying writing them*

Trigger warnings~ hints at depression and anxiety with past trauma

Prompt~ see ask^^^

Music, art and writing holds a power unlike no other. The ability to touch a soul with mer words or pictures, and to wield that power is a gift like no other. For you it was music, the lyrics often held a deeper meaning for you loved trying to puzzle it together. The lyrics from an old classic stuck with you the most, "mama I don't wanna die sometimes wish I'd never been born at all" could often be misinterpreted as depression or suicidal thoughts. But truly that couldn't be further from the truth. You related to these lyrics in a way you never wanted to.

Your life before the attending the school had been nothing short of horrid. And that was polite for what you went through. Leonora felt protective of you, you knew that from the moment she stopped you from sparring with Hester the moment you got a tiny burn compared to students she'd allowed come to mer inches of passing out from pain. The feeling of safety you felt with her was like nothing you'd ever experienced before so you found yourself opening up more and more to her.

You showed her your book that contained pages and pages of lyrics that you would look into and the ideas of hidden meanings would be neatly annotated in colour coordinated as well. You allowed her ask any questions that she may have. And she picked the very specific lines that just happened to be your favourite ones. With a small sigh you knew you'd should explain just why those lyrics had page after page dedicated to it.

The lyrics were truly about not being able to be yourself. And if you could've been yourself then what would your life had been? Would you have been happier then? What if the life you lived had just been one horrible bad dream? For you life had been cruel and that was just a fact. It started in your early years, parents who had accidentally conceived you and when you were born no longer wanted you. Perhaps you weren't enough, or maybe you just happened to be the worst thing to ever happen to them. Whatever the reason, it made growing up in such an environment the normal for you. Love was not something in your parents home or even in your life.

Lesso was no stranger to feeling unloved and truly she wished that was where all the abuse ended for you but that would be too easy. At the ripe age of 10 was the first time you were assaulted, not only were you in emotional and mental pain but now you had physical pain to join it. True pain can come in many forms but for someone who knows no different it just feels normal.

Since arriving at the school, you had been exposed to feelings and actions that were most unusual and unexpected. It made things all the more confusing and harder to accept. And you always came straight to Lesso, she would comfort and reassure you offering you the love and attention you truly deserved. Single handedly and unknowingly this women was healing your inner child.

Today was a bad day for you, plagued with memories of the past, and you had found yourself seeking the comfort of the Dean. Comfort she was more than happy to provide you with. Sometimes you would sit in silence, other times she would whisper words of love and care even offering some advice here and there. Less commonly you would rant away about anything bothering you. Today you decided to rant and she listened to everything you said so intently it made you feel seen and heard.

"Nora, why do I get given this life? What if I had a life where I was able to be me and happy? Would I feel love and be able to accept it more easily? You care for me and I truly do not understand why. Nora why is it so hard to be truly me?" You sobbed at the admission. Truly you just wanted to be you and for everyone to be okay with it. To be loved as who you are not who they wanted you to be. To be wanted and desired yet life never seemed to offer you that until you met her. It was platonic, that much was obvious, the love and care she gave very much like a mothers love. Yet she wasn't your mother, unfortunately so. Most people saw her to be unkind and uncaring but here and now in her arms as you sobbed all you saw was a woman who understood just how it feels to be used and uncared for. Someone who would protect her students from the same types of pain.

She held you while you sobbed reassuring you that you were enough as you, you were worthy of love and care and life had been unusually cruel to you but she has you now. You were safe with her and you always would be. No more harm would come to you without going through her. When joining the school it was hard to think you were terrified of this woman when deep down she held such a sweet loving heart, just one that had been battered, bruised and broken too many times. Just like yours. With Leonora's help, maybe you could learn to love yourself. The true you that lay buried deep behind your walls and scars.

Word count~ 1006

[rebeccasteventaylor]

All right, episode 1 again

The crank! The crank to wind up the universe! Just like the Bentley’s crank that he couldn’t let go of! Even when he forgot who he was somewhere he remembered.

So Crowley worked on stars and Aziraphale worked on people? No wonder Crowley loves the stars and Aziraphale longs to protect the people of Earth.

The minute Aziraphale meets Crowley he’s trying to protect him from Heaven and Heaven’s punishment. And then moments after that Crowley’s song goes up over Aziraphale to protect him from the falling stars. Crowley’s actions speak to his real feelings again.

That shot following the letter through the letterbox is brilliant. How did they do that?

Maggie can’t spell. And Maggie seems the least phased about all the things that happen. Is Maggie a demon? And why would a pub in Edinburgh need to get records from a shop in Soho? Edinburghs full of record shops.

The song playing in Maggie’s shop the first time Aziraphale goes in is ‘You don’t own me’ by Lesley Gore. It’s about a girl telling a boy he doesn’t own her, he can’t tell her what to do, she’s young and free and likes it that way. In this case I feel the boy might be heaven, and Aziraphale the girl. Or it might be about Gabriel who is right at that moment leaving heaven.

Aarrghhj! Aziraphale telling Maggie he’s very good at forgiveness, it’s one of his favourite things!

Some people say that the Shostakovich symphony that Aziraphale gets has a theme of rebirth. Again - a reference to the journey Gabriel is going on right at that moment?

Why the hell is Crowley reading the Tadfield Advertiser!! And his snake is definitely higher up than it is later on when he’s talking to Gabriel. That tattoo MOVES.

So Michael appears to still be contact with Hell?

If Aziraphale’s shop is officially an embassy, then it would be one of the safe places angels and demons could meet so perhaps Gabriel and Beelzebub had designated it as their meeting spot?

I had thought Crowley’s Bentley was parked in a South Downs village but now I can see that you can see the Gherkin in the distance so he’s in still in London. Goodness knows were but you do get these hidden little streets in London.

So the fly is now loose in Aziraphale’s shop so is Beelzebub and/or Gabriel aware of everything that happened in the bookshop?

The music in the coffee shop is a orchestral arrangement of Bohemian Rhapsody…

Crowley’s ‘precious, peaceful, fragile existence’ he thought he was building with Aziraphale - but he cannot resist helping Aziraphale

I have to go out now. I’ll continue this later

[coolkraay]

Music box #9 pls

9: a song that reminds you of yourself. Thank you @jack-daww for asking this one too. This is the toughest question on the list and the one I was least looking forward to because I don't know myself. I don't have object permanence for myself. So I had to think long and hard on what kind of song to pick. Even now as I am typing this I'm having to think long and hard. I could focus on adhd, on quickly and constantly switching interests and topics and a brain that won't shut up and really intense moments of anger before I forget why I was angry and go back to normal again. Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen perhaps?

I'm not just adhd though. Don't even have a diagnosis. So what else? I'm aro ace. I know that. So no interest in romantic and sexual relationships, not much interest in sex as a whole. Black Honey's I Don't Ever Wanna Love? (lot's of trans colour in the video, that's not me but it's a fun thing to point out)

I don't know, I'm not just my attraction (or lack there of) either. And I could continue a bit like this like I'm Dutch, I'm born in 1996, I studied Korean. All of those things certainly are true and part of my experiences, but do they make me? I don't know. I feel like I'm more than that but at the same time I have no idea. Ah fuck it, I'm Like a Bird by Nelly Furtado

Music Box asks

[sepublic]

            I know I assigned Yo-Yo Ma as a potential stand for Belos, but I’m also starting to feel Bohemian Rhapsody. There’s of course the obvious, surface-level function of bringing fiction to life, and Belos’ obsession with certain narratives.

         But one part that is overlooked is that Bohemian Rhapsody doesn’t just make stories real. It specifically presents stories to individuals that have emotionally resonated with them in the past, and makes them a part of that story, even if that role ends with their death. Especially, perhaps.

         And if that doesn’t describe Belos to a T? How instead of being content with a peaceful reality where he and his brother are safe and free… He’d rather cling to his childhood story of being a witch hunter fighting evil, even if that means he’s in danger, even if that means Caleb is in danger and has to be killed. Philip is enamored with a certain story even if that story is actively hurting him, because it’s been so ingrained into his childish understanding and dreams.

        It’s an obsession and perpetuation of fiction that burns down the entire world with it, in a very bitter and cynical way, lashing out at the world for one’s own loss. So just like Ungalo, Belos does the same as well… So Bohemian Rhapsody seems fitting for him, especially since it’s so wide-scale and destructive, which befits the stand of a main antagonist. 

        There’s only one known solution to countering Bohemian Rhapsody, which is to make a story to bring to life that counters the stand itself. A story that actually, critically thinks about its purpose outside of the story itself, instead of being enamored with the surface-level literal aspects. Fitting, since our protagonists and their healthier love of stories, of being weird and yourself, oppose Belos’ conformity.