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warren-lauren · 4 years

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Thank you for writing the daughter of Roger Taylor, it was phenomenal🥰 would you write something where the reader is the bass player for queen + Adam Lambert where Roger and Brian see her like a daughter and Adam sees her as a sister, where Roger and Brian introduce to the borhap boys while filming and she ends up being the girlfriend of one of them?

Warnings: swearing, fluff

Lovesick teenagers - Gwilym Lee x Deacon!reader

"Don't worry, Dad, I'll behave," You smiled into the phone as you listened to your dad, "Are you sure you don't want to be here? Okay, no, I know, I just... I'm not you, am I- no, I know, we're practically the same-" You rolled your eyes playfully as you listened to your father, "Okay, Dad, I'll talk to you later. Yep, I'll say hi to Brian and Roger for you. Yeah, love you too, Dad, bye."

You turned the last corner, following the directions from one of the many crew members that were working on the film and came to exactly where you were meant to be.

"Uncle Bri!" You called out happily as you walked up to the mass of grey curls.

He turned around grinning, "Y/N!" He cheered, pulling you into a tight hug before popping a kiss on your cheek, "I was starting to worry about you," He smiled.

"I wasn't,"

You rolled your eyes grinning as you turned around to face Roger, "Whatever you say, Uncle Rog," You placed a kiss on his bearded cheek. "I was on the phone to Dad. He says hi, by the way,"

Both men smiled warmly at the mention of your father, "I'll give him a call later, it's been a while." Roger placed a fatherly kiss to your forehead, much like the one Brian had given you.

Brian nodded, agreeing with his oldest friend. "For now, Miss Deacon, we have some lovely people for you to meet." Brian grinned as he slipped his arm around your shoulders and the three of you began to move out onto the massive stage. Brian explained that they were filming the live aid scenes. "Gentlemen, and lady," Brian smiled at the small group of people, "I'd like to introduce you to someone rather special, Y/N Deacon,"

You raised your hand in the air with a polite smile, glancing at each person for a couple of seconds, having some idea of who each of them was, although seeing them dressed as Queen in '85 was a bit difficult.

"Hello, it's lovely to meet you," The only girl of the group beamed at you as she held her hand out towards you, "I'm Lucy,"

"Hello," You smiled back as you shook her hand, already sensing she was a lovely person.

"Hello, I'm Rami, or Freddie," He grinned making you laugh a little.

You nodded, "Definitely look like my Uncle Fred," You smiled at him.

"I'm Ben..." Ben winked at you making you blush slightly as you shook his hand, yep, Roger.

You nodded smiling at him before turning your attention to the man beside him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him, "Wow..." You grinned, reaching up to brush your hand over his hair, "It's like looking at my old man... well, when I was about two," You chuckled, "Nice to meet you..."

"Joe," He cleared his throat, "-and the pleasure is all mine," Joe said in his best 'John Deacon' voice as he smiled, shaking your hand, "How's that?"

You smiled nodding, "Not bad... needs a little tweak but not bad,"

"Damn, I'll keep working on it," Joe winked cheekily.

You nodded, turning your attention to the last man, your breath once again catching in your throat but for an entirely different reason. "Damn," You cleared your throat, blushing as he stared at you. "Wow," You began smiling as you turned to look at Brian. "How freaky is that? He's your spitting image, Uncle Bri!"

Brian's head fell back as everyone began laughing. "Yes, it's certainly uncanny, isn't it?"

You nodded turning back to face the uncanny look-a-like, "It's nice to meet you, Gwilym,"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, "You know who I am?" He blushed a little.

You nodded, "Oh, yes. Midsomer Murders, Jamestown... Fresh Meat," You smirked at him, "I'm quite the fan," You winked playfully, smirking as he began blushing even more.

"Yes, well, it's nice to meet you too," He smiled as you took his offered hand and gently shook it.

----------

You sat at the dining table that was being used in one of the scenes looking through the photographs of Freddie as a boy with a soft smile on your face. You were vaguely aware of someone taking a seat next to you as you ran your fingertips over the surface of a photograph.

"What's the earliest memory of him you have?" Gwilym asked as he looked at one of the photographs.

You stayed silent for a minute or so as you thought about his question. A smile began curling at the corners of your lips, "I was about two, two and a half. Round, about the time they all got back together just before Live Aid. I went to one of the rehearsals with mum, when we got there they were rehearsing Bohemian Rhapsody and I went straight up to Uncle Freddie and began poking at the keys. He sat me on his knee and started to teach me how to play." You smiled looking up to meet Gwilym's gaze.

He reached up and brushed the tears from your cheeks, tears that you hadn't even realized you were shedding. "And now you're in the same band." He grinned.

You nodded letting out a small giggle, "Yes as my Dad." The two of you began laughing as you looked back at the photographs. "I was eight or so when he died. God... it was awful. I remember Dad, and Uncle Brian and Uncle Roger being destroyed. He was my hero, my Uncle Fred... he had cats," You began laughing at the reason you used to give as a kid.

Gwilym wrapped his arms around you as your laugh turned into small sobs. He hushed you as he comforted you.

"Y/N?" Brian was concerned and ever the protective father when it came to one of his children being upset, "Is everything okay?" He asked as he took a seat next to you at the table, glancing down at the photographs.

You nodded sitting up, "Fine, Uncle Bri, just talking about Uncle Fred being my hero," You smiled.

Brian began grinning, "Because he had cats,"

You nodded laughing, "Because he had cats."

----------

"I've never seen you so manly," You teased Adam as he stood in front of you in his trucker costume.

He rolled his eyes before flipping you the bird, "I like this look on me."

You nodded, "Oh, yeah, definitely a look for you," You smirked.

Gwilym's movement from across the room caught your attention. He was talking to Ben and Joe, all three in an earlier Queen look. It made you smile as you watched the three of them.

"Could you be any more obvious?" Adam teased behind you.

You looked back at him with a confused look, "What?"

"Your lovesick puppy look," He smirked, pinching your left cheek until you smacked his hand away. "It gives you away."

"I don't have, a lovesick puppy look,"

Adam chuckled as he began to walk off to join the others on set, "Yeah, right."

"I don't!" You stomped your foot in annoyance as Adam laughed.

"You don't what?" Roger asked as he walked up behind you making you jump.

You let out a small huff, "Have a lovesick puppy look."

"Oh," Roger let out a dry chuckle, nodding, "That. It's more of a lovesick teenager look. Right, Bri?"

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Brian who was approaching the pair of you. "Certainly. You forget we've seen that look on you before," Brian smirked making you blush. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with us." He winked.

"Oh my God." You sighed dramatically. "I'm off for a smoke,"

Roger frowned as he watched you walk off from him and Brian. "You don't smoke."

"If it gets me away from you two," You smirked cheekily at him over your shoulder as you headed for the exit. You stepped out into the fresh air taking in a deep breath as someone called your name behind you.

You looked over your shoulder with a small smile as Gwilym, in all his fake curly hair glory walked up to you.

"Everything okay? You looked a bit, annoyed back there." He smiled down at you as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

You nodded, "Oh, hmm, yeah, that's nothing but a bit of band teasing." You smiled.

Gwilym nodded, "Right."

"Thanks for, checking, though. That's, really sweet of you." You smiled at him.

Gwilym let out a small chuckle as he looked down to his feet. "Well, I just, wanted to make sure you were, okay and that, you know, if you ever, wanted to talk..." He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You smiled a little more, "Thanks," You reached up and placed your hand on his arm. "Same applies... Mr. May," You winked before stepping around him and heading back inside to join the others.

"See, lovesick teenager." Roger pointed at you with a cheeky smirk.

You rolled your eyes as you walked straight by him and over to Lucy thinking you were safe from teasing if you hung out with her. You were wrong.

----------

You shook your head with a small chuckle, "You need to lean back a bit," You pushed on Joe's shoulder, "Not so much that you bloody fall over." You giggled as Joe nearly toppled over.

"Fuck sake. Show me, now, please," Joe batted his eyelashes making you laugh.

"Alright," You rolled your eyes as you took the bass off Joe and through it over your shoulder.

"Oh, hang on!" Ben called out as he walked over along with Gwilym and Rami to where you and Joe were 'rehearsing'. "We have a real-life Deaky performing," He grinned at you.

You shook your head as you turned to Joe, "So, watch-" You poked him so he'd look at what you were doing. You leaned back like you had said and then put your fingers into position before you began plucking at the strings to the familiar song.

As much as you tended to put yourself down about not being your Dad, he had taught you and the two of you had practiced alongside each other for years and years so, you had become Deaky the second in a sense when it came to playing bass. Not to say you couldn't be Freddie, Brian, and Roger if wanted, you had caught the musical talent bug off them.

"Wow," Gwilym smiled at you, "You're definitely your father's daughter."

You let out a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, I guess I've picked up a couple of things from him."

"Haven't I seen you play Roger's drums on your Insta?" Ben asked with a grin.

You nodded, "And the Red Special." You smiled at Gwilym before lifting the bass from around your neck. "Right, your turn," You handed it back to Joe with a smile before you left him to practice what you had just shown him.

"Hey, Y/N," Gwilym caught up to you as you headed out the room.

"Yeah," You smiled up at him as the pair of you came to standstill.

"I don't suppose you could, hmm, give me some pointers, could you? Since you can play, and, Brian has taught you, and-" Gwilym stopped talking as he noticed you grinning at him, "What?"

"I could, or you could ask me out for a drink and we stop acting like-"

"Lovesick teenagers?" Gwilym asked with his own grin before chuckling, "Yeah, I've been told that's what we're both like." The pair of you blushed and grinned at each other before Gwilym began talking again, "Would you like to go for a drink? Tonight, if you're free?"

You nodded, "I would love to, Gwilym,"

Gwilym grinned, "Great! Well, I best be getting back-" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, "So, hmm, yeah... See you soon," He blushed as he went to turn away before doubling back to peck your cheek softly before he whispered a final goodbye.

You bit your bottom lip as you watched Gwilym walk-off, glancing over his shoulder at you with his grin still plastered on his face, making your stomach knot with excitement.

Hours later, you were sat with Gwilym in a local bar, enjoying each other's company. Although the two of you were sat at a small table in a corner, so close that your knees were knocking into each other, to you it was your own little world

"So, tell me how you ended up getting the job as bassist in the band?" Gwilym asked.

"Well," You smiled looking down to your hand that played with the bottom of your wine glass, "Like any other time, Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, asked Dad if he fancied getting back into it. They always ask and he always declines, it's just not him anymore," Your smile saddened a little at the thought. You wished your dad played more than he did, you loved watching your own little rock-dad. "Anyway, at the time of them asking him, I'd gone round to ask for his advice on my current predicament,"

"Oh?" Gwilym asked, genuinely looking interested, you could see it in his eyes.

You hummed, "I'd just decided to leave the band I was in at the time. It wasn't the right band for me," You frowned at the thought of your old band, "Anyway, Dad said why not give it a go. I knew every cord to every song, I can sing and I was sure to get on with Adam..."

Gwilym grinned, "The pair of you do seem close."

"From the moment we met, we got on like a house on fire. He's like my annoying brother." You chuckled, "I deserve a medal putting up with those three on tour."

Gwilym chuckled, "If they're anything like Ben and Joe then yes, you do."

"Oh, they're worse. Don't get me started on when they're in dad mode," You rolled your eyes with a slight huff, "I've lost count of how many men Roger has scared off when we're on band night outs."

Gwilym's brows knitted together in a small frown as his grip around his glass tightened. Was he jealous or happy that other men had the chance to be scared off from you? "Uh-oh. Should I be worried?" He asked as he turned his gaze to meet yours.

You shook your head as you bit your bottom lip, "It depends what you're hoping to get." You smirked.

Gwilym,'s frown turned into a small grin, "I'll settle for a kiss... for now," He whispered, opening a little closer to you.

"Hmm... A kiss... for now," You smiled up at him.

The two of you slowly closed the gap between, your lips pressing against one another. Your hands slid up Gwylim's neck to thread into his short hair as Gwilym cupped the side of your face, his tongue lightly licking at your bottom lip before you allowed him access to your mouth. Your noses nudged against each other's as your kiss deepened.

You drew a deep breath as you pulled back from Gwylim, biting softly at his bottom lip cheekily as you did. A small groan left Gwylim's mouth as you did. "Fuck," He let out a breathy chuckle. "I might need another one."

"Me too,"

----------

"Now, we have some very specials friends here tonight," Adam spoke out to the crowd. "Where are you guys? C'mon, let us hear from you!" He called out.

You grinned, looking away from Adam to Brian and then Roger before finally looking out to the crowd and to where Gwilym was stood. Your grin grew as he waved his arms in the air cheering, along with Rami, Lucy, and Joe.

"Alright!" Adam let out a chuckle before he turned his attention to you with a wicked grin, "Wanna say hello to your man, Miss Deaky?" The audience cheered.

You rolled your eyes playfully, "Hello, Mr. Lee." You blew a kiss out to the audience in his direction, grinning as he caught it and blew it back to you. You laughed as you saw Joe pout. "Give my old man a kiss, would ya'," You joked.

Gwilym turned to Joe and placed a sloppy kiss on Joe's cheek making you all laugh.

"Can we get on? Even if it is, disco!" Roger chuckled from behind you making you grin even more.

"It's NOT disco!" You smiled at him. "Ready?" You asked looking around for confirmation before you began playing the chords to Another One Bites the Dust, your eyes moving from your bass to where Gwylim stood. You didn't miss the look of pure love in his eyes and the way he blew another kiss towards you making your heart flutter.

#gwilym x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader smut #gwilym lee x reader prompt request #gwilym lee x reader request #Gwilym Lee

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adamwatchesmovies · 4 years

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Adam Watches the 92nd Academy Awards

The 92nd Academy Awards have come and gone. As always, there’s plenty to be happy about and plenty that’ll make you wonder what the heck the voters were thinking. I watched the ceremony and while I may say that I don’t care… I do. Those awards are a big deal. Legions of people who would’ve otherwise dismissed Parasite as some movie that requires them to read subtitles saw it because it was nominated. One of those golden statues can make a career and let’s face it, you like to hear your love for something validated by people who have even the semblance of authority on the subject.

But here’s what you may not know: most of the voters really don’t know what they’re doing. While cinematographers NOMINATE what films are up for that Best Cinematography Award, EVERYONE in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences gets to vote for the winner and there’s no guarantee they’ve actually seen every nominee, know what the technical terms mean or are voting because what they saw is what they actually believe was “the best”. Once you take into account the dollars required to produce a nomination campaign, the stigma many genre films face, the prejudices against certain types of roles and/or actors, and how popularity influences votes, a win hardly means more than a bunch of people you don’t know saying they liked a movie.

If you want a better idea of which of 2019’s films were “the best”, you’re better off asking someone you know and trust, someone who can prove they’ve done their homework and aren’t just voting for their friends, the one they’ve heard is good from their kid, or got a special gift basket from. I may not be a paid professional, but I have put in the time and effort to see EVERYTHING nominated (with a few exceptions I’ll detail below). Reviews for some of these (The Irishman, Judy) are coming to the blog in a couple of days. If it were up to me the list of nominees would be different but we’ll get to that later. Without further ado, here’s who SHOULD’VE won.

Best Visual Effects

1917 – Guillaume Rocheron, Greg Butler, and Dominic Tuohy The best special effects are the kind you don’t even notice. I couldn’t tell you where the explosions, sets, and actors in 1917 begin, and where the computer-generated imagery takes over. It’s seamless.

Best Film Editing

Parasite – Yang Jin-mo Got to hand it to Parasite for its amazing use of montage and the way it stitched its footage together. Some shots I initially thought initially were one take I realized under carefully scrutiny - and by that I mean frame-by-frame examination - were actually two melded together. The scenes showing how the Kim family infiltrate the Park’s household should be shown in film class to demonstrate how the art of montage is at its best should be done to maximum effect.

Best Costume Design

Little Women – Jacqueline Durran Funny how every single film nominated at the 92nd Academy Awards was a period piece. My vote goes to Little Women not because it was necessarily the most accurate (I couldn’t tell you what people wore in 1868) but because of the way the costumes were used. You can tell a lot about the characters from the multiple outfits they wear throughout the film - check out that purple bonnet adorned by Aunt Marsh (Meryl Streep).

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

Bombshell – Kazu Hiro, Anne Morgan, and Vivian Baker I called it when I reviewed the film. The makeup used to transform John Lithgow was nothing short of incredible. It was an easy pick.

Best Cinematography

1917 – Roger Deakins I’m glad to see The Lighthouse on this list but I have to hand it to 1917. The one-shot motif adds so much to the story. Then, there are the individual shots I remember so vividly. The quiet meadow just outside of No Man’s Land, the raging inferno Schofield sees when he wakes up, the trench he must run in front of to reach the Colonel are all shots that permanently imprint themselves into your memory.

Best Production Design

1917 – Production Design: Dennis Gassner; Set Decoration: Lee Sandales Tempted to hand it to Parasite for the house they constructed for the movie but I’m give it to 1917. The trenches, the blasted landscape of No Man’s Land still haunt me. When you see the craters, it’s jarring. Then, as your eyes become adjusted, you notice the rats. Then, the chunks of bone and charred meat that have now become part of the landscape. It’s horrific.

Best Sound Mixing

Ford v Ferrari – Paul Massey, David Giammarco, and Steven A. Morrow What you remember most from Ford v Ferrari is that big race at the end. The climax wouldn’t have been the same without the sounds we heard. The roar of the engines, the clacking and grinding as the pedals are pushed and gears are switched… the air rushing by. Out of the nominees, it’s the one whose sounds I most remember.

Best Sound Editing

Ford v Ferrari – Donald Sylvester This year, the Best Sound Editing award goes hand-in-hand with the sound mixing. Obviously, the actors were never moving at the kind of speeds depicted in Ford v Ferrari but you wouldn’t be able to tell because of the foley and sound design.

Best Original Song

Stand Up from Harriet – Music and Lyrics by Joshuah Brian Campbell and Cynthia Erivo Stand Up plays during the end credits of Harriet and it perfectly caps the film. Whenever I hear its lyrics, I’m transported back to that moment. It’s the most memorable and emotional song on this list.

Best Original Score

Joker – Hildur Guðnadóttir I chose the best song for its ability to stand out. In this category, Joker wins because its music doesn’t stand out… at least not at first. While you’re watching, those notes don’t draw attention to themselves. They subconsciously build the mood, augmenting the performance by Joaquin Phoenix, the visuals, and the story. You don’t notice how much of an effect it has on you until you see isolated clips. When you do, it’s shocking.

Best Animated Short Film

Abstaining (I’ve only seen Hair Love)

Best Live Action Short Film

Abstaining

Best Documentary Short Subject

Abstaining

Best Documentary Feature

Abstaining

Best International Feature Film

Abstaining, as I’ve only seen 2 films (Pain and Glory and Parasite)

Best Animated Feature Film

I Lost My Body – Jérémy Clapin and Marc du Pontavice I Lost My Body is the most audacious and inspired of the animated films nominated. The only movie among these to be aimed at adults, it often tells its story through visuals alone but when you get to the end, you realize it’s about more than just what was on-screen.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Little Women – Greta Gerwig based on the novel by Louisa May Alcott Greta Gerwig does more than merely adapt the classic novel, she breathes new life into it, makes it her own, makes it feel wholly new and modern. This version of the film surpasses all others we’ve seen before because of the changes she’s made to the story’s structure.

Best Original Screenplay

Knives Out – Rian Johnson What a ride Knives Out was. It’s got so many twists and turns, so many delightful characters you want to re-watch it the second it’s over so that you are no longer distracted by its central mystery and can simply step back and admire the handiwork by Rian Johnson. A sequel’s been announced and I can’t wait to see it.

Best Supporting Actress

Laura Dern – Marriage Story as Nora Fanshaw Laura Dern was also in Little Women and her two roles couldn’t be more different. Here, she’s loathsome and captivating. As soon as I saw Nora take off her shoes before she kneeled down on the couch to console Nicole, I knew there was a whole lot more to her character than what we were told. The more you see her, the more you want.

Best Supporting Actor

Al Pacino – The Irishman as Jimmy Hoffa Al Pacino has the advantage of getting A LOT of screen time as Jimmy Hoffa. The Irishman clocks in at over 3,5 hours and he isn’t in the whole movie but when he is, the seasoned performer gives us so much. At different periods of the story, you’ll feel differently about him. There’s no point comparing him to the real-life person. He takes the meaty role and makes it his own. His voice, his mannerisms, I can’t think of anyone who could’ve done it better.

Best Actress

Renée Zellweger – Judy as Judy Garland Judy was the very last movie on my list to watch, having missed it when it came to theatres. When I think back to Zellweger’s performance, I don’t see her. All I see is her character, a rich, complex person you sometimes hate, sometimes love and feel sorry for. The movie is not going to be on my “Best of” list but she is.

Best Actor

Joaquin Phoenix – Joker as Arthur Fleck / Joker To me, there was no question Joaquin Phoenix would take this one. I saw Joker three times and each time, I found something new in his performance.

Best Director

Sam Mendes – 1917 With this award, I’m awarding Sam Mendes for the craft he displayed in 1917. It’s such a visceral experience that when people asked me how it compared to Dunkirk, it felt weird to lump both together. This is coming from someone who gave both pictures a 5-star review, who put both on their respective “best of the year” lists. It’s a movie I’m going to go back to and wondering “how did they do that?!

Best Picture

Little Women – Amy Pascal It’s a tough call for me this year, partially because I loved Parasite, 1917, Joker, and others so much. I’m planning on adding those three films to my collection so I can pop them into my Blu-ray player any times I feel like it. That said, I would’ve given the Best Picture Award to Little Women. You’re so emotionally invested in this little story that telling you why with merely words is impossible. You fall in love over and over. It made me cry and every time I think back to that scene at Christmas, I tear up again. I’m choosing it because of all the things it does differently from the other films. At the end of the day, it isn’t a big story. It isn’t about people with guns, corruption, war, a turning point in history or even necessarily the biggest event in the lives of the characters but it feels like it is. That’s exactly why it’s so good.

Disagree with my choices? I don’t blame you. What kind of idiot finds a way to leave out Marriage Story from their list? You let me know where it should’ve gone. Hopefully, commenting keep you warm until MY Best of 2019 list gets posted in the next few days.

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leah-halliwell92 · 5 years

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Rock is Also a Classic

Summary: Francesca “Frankie” Walker, 29, marine biologist and musical virgin was raised in a borderline fanatically religious family. Which has its downsides, one of them being what music you can listen to. So having been raised mainly on classical music and music provided by your parents (i.e. music worship) made it hard for her to connect to people her own age. Now that she’s older she has the chance to do what she’s always wanted...be free.

Chapter 1

“Come on Frankie,” Mara your colleague and friend said she took off the wet suit after they’d fed the sting rays.

“Fine I’ll go,” She said with a laugh, “Who are you going to see anyway?”

Mara seemed to bounce where she sat on the edge of the tank and stood picking her suit as she stood before saying, “We are going to see her majesty Queen!”

“The queen?” Frankie said not believing who they were going to see.

“Not the queen as in the Queen of England,” Mara said knowing why her friend was so skeptical.

They had grown up in similarly sheltered homes so knew it would take a bit of a crash corse to teach her about who Queen are and everything in between. Not to mention teaching her of the glory that is Freddie Fucking Mercury.

“They are a band called Queen,” Mara clarified as Frankie stood and picked up her own wet suit, “They are a band from the 70′s that changed the corse of music as we know it.”

“You’re going to take me to see four old men–”

“Um...here’s the thing,” Mara said as they made their way to the locker rooms and change, “Freddie, the lead of the band died in 1991 due to AIDS. Fred was unique and as pop culture goes if a band has one outstanding attribute then...”

“The other pieces that make the whole mean nothing,” she said understanding where this is going as they changed into the aquarium uniform before making their way to their lunch break.

“Roger Taylor, the band’s drummer, and Brian May, the band’s guitarist are the only ones active; that have been active since Freddie’s passing since John their bassist decided to retire after the tribute to Freddie a year or so later,” Mara said.

“That’s sad,” Frankie said as they made their way to grab some food.

Mara nodded and said, “But hey, they found Adam Lambert through AI!”

“Wait...You mean to tell me they found a contender to fill in for Freddie?” Frankie asked.

Mara nodded and excitedly said, “What I like most about it is that he has stated on more than one occasion that he is not trying to replace Freddie. It’s why the show is called Queen and/with Adam Lambert.”

Frankie laughed at her friend’s antics and dug into her lunch before asking, “When’s the concert then?”

Mara played the innocent angel as she said, “Tomorrow night.”

Frankie nearly did a spit take coughing as the too short notice day was said.

“Mar, you know I don’t have the same days off as you! Besides, where on God’s green Earth are you going to get tickets for what I’m sure is a sold out show?” She asked exasperatedly.

“Calm down Frank! The boss said you’ve been working over time for the past few months and told me to tell you to go talk to her about it,” Mara said completely at ease, “She told me to tell you when I requested the day after tomorrow off.”

Frankie sighed and dropped her head on her hands at this.

“Frank...you know the boss is right,” Mara said soothingly.

“I know, but this is what happens when my mom’s idea of a visit is to barge into my apartment on my day off, demand I be a good hostess and tend to her and take with the grace of a nun shot after shot about why I shouldn’t have move away and married Josh from across the hall,” Frankie let out frustratedly, “I can still hear her, ‘He’s such a nice boy Francesca! You’d adore him as much as he has you!’”

“As much as he has!?” Mara said eyes wide in shock, “What in the hell did she mean by that?”

“Apparently he’s had a crush on me since forever,” Frankie said, “She insists there is still time for me to kick this “phase” I’m in, move back in and become the wife the Good Lord meant for me to be.”

“That’s bullshit,” Mara said.

“I know,” Frankie said taking a drink from her coke, “I’m tempted to transfer just so that I can make it harder for her to visit. Not even my dad is this stringent anymore!”

“Last you said, hadn’t he raved about Star Wars?” Mara asked after swallowing her bite of food.

“Yep, over and over he went on and on about how he could and should have been more lenient with us growing up,” Frankie said with a sigh, “How having things to decompress and/or relax with is just as important as having your faith.”

“Better late than never though right?” Mara asked as she finished the last of her food.

Frankie shrugged and said, “Yea but now it’s like he’s fighting against the tide because out of both my parents my dad is the only one who wants me to not only see the world but live it and be a part of it as well. I mean before he was about finding my way in life and all that. But now its about how important it is for me to be as independent as I can be.”

“And you mom doesn’t agree?” Mara asked curiously.

“Mom’s half Italian-ness shows here. She’s from the country side and was raised in the fully loaded traditional side of things where man is the bread winner and woman is she who tends to children and home,” Frankie said with a sigh before adding, “Dad spent some time out in the world when he was a young man and learned that balance is the second most important thing in life besides your faith. It’s why he fought my mom so much when my brother and I were growing up. Part of the reason why Vince is a hard ass every time mom brings up dating for either of us.”

The pair finished their lunch and continued on with their work day with ease.

Near the end of her shift, Frankie did as Mara asked and went to see their boss.

“You wanted to see me?” She said after knocking on the office door.

“Yes come in,” Sarah, her boss, said with a kind smile.

Frankie had gotten nervous at that but did as was asked.

“You’re not in trouble Francesca,” Sarah said with a kind smile.

Sarah is a middle aged good natured woman that is loved by most if not all the crew under her. She is a fair leader and suuuuper reliable.

“I’ve seen the hours you’ve been putting in for the past months,” Sarah began, “Is everything ok?”

“Just needed to keep myself busy,” Frankie said not wanting to elaborate too much.

Sarah sighed having a hunch of what is going on since Mara fills her in some from time to time and said, “Mara’s told me there’s a Queen concert in town, yes?”

Frankie nodded.

“Why not take the next couple of weeks off?” Sarah asked suggestively, “Lord knows you’ve earned them.”

Frankie smiled and nodded before standing and making her way out.

“And Francesca,” Sarah called.

Frankie turned to see her boss giving her a wide smile.

“Enjoy the concert! And should you have the chance to meet them...Brian is a sweet as he can be,” Sarah said with a knowing wink.

Frankie smiled brightly at that and nodded.

Little did she know that despite her lack of knowledge of who Queen and her members are/were, she was going to draw the attention of a certain space man.

–//–

Don’t forget to like, reblog and leave a comment!! If you’d like to be tagged here or my permanent Queen/Borhap list let me know!!!

–//–

Tag List: @pansexualqueendarling, @queenattheopera, @brianandthemays, @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever, @ramibaby, @captain--americanna, @awkwardangelshezza, @avengerraven1023, @danamaleksworld, @pastywhiteperson, @readinghorn, @i-was-born-like-this, @redspecialstardust, @reedusteinrambles, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @readinghorn, @subbysharkbabe, @capan-devereaux, @bowieandqueen11, @bellamy1998, @reedusteinrambles, @simply-sams-things, @sincereleygmg, @bleu-jean-baby, @brian-mayonnaise, @0hour9am, @toomuchtellyneck, @kimanne723, @sincereleygmg, @kyleetheeditor, @glamrockmonarch, @rawyld, @queensdivas, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession

#brain may #brian may fic #brian may x oc #adam lambert #rufus taylor #roger taylor #present day brian may #present day roger taylor #marine biologist oc #2019!brian may #2019!roger taylor

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years

Text

Twenty-Seven Steps, Chapter 27: I Still Love You [October 2010] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Callahan is an American living and studying in London. When Freddie befriends her and brings her into Queen’s inner circle, she finally learns what it’s like to have a family. But love and loyalty aren’t always black and white, and Calla must navigate conflicting desires and obligations as she accompanies John, Roger, Brian, and Freddie through their interwoven lives.

Chapter summary: Calla accepts an invitation.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Series mood board by the insanely lovely and talented @inthegardensofourminds HERE

Taglist: @the-borhap-boys @killer-queen-xo @sincereleygmg @calspixie @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @stormtrprinstilettos @bramblesforbreakfast @brainflakes @coffeexcigarette @inthegardensofourminds @ezmina98

Calla’s laughter cracked through the silence as she sat at the kitchen table, the room illuminated by the harsh white glow from her laptop screen. Outside the window were deep indigo skies and rising stars. Waffles, one of their rough-coated collies, glanced up at her from where he was sprawled across the tile floor. Calla opened another tab in her browser and logged into her Gmail account, then began a new message. The recipient was InLuvWMyCar027, a private email address that was only for family and close friends.

Mr. Roger Meddows Taylor,

You have probably already seen/heard this, but I had to pass it along. Early-2000s punk rock in all its glory. The angst! Wish this would come back into vogue. Sheer Heart Attack (song, not album) was so ahead of its time. Prophetic almost. Cheers to you.

C.R.D.

Below, she dropped a link to the YouTube music video for Good Charlotte’s The Anthem. She clicked the send button, then resumed her browsing.

Seven minutes later, her inbox pinged a reply.

Cal -

I had not heard this !! So rad !!

See you Saturday? I hope so.

~ R.M.T.

P.S. Plz inform Bri of my superiority.

xxxx

Calla closed her laptop screen. Saturday. She drummed her palms against the tops of her thighs, biting her lower lip. Then she stood, shut off the hallway lights, and crept up the stairs to the master bedroom. John was submerged beneath a messy cascade of blankets and flipping through a biography of Paul McCartney.

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the doorframe in her periwinkle robe.

He looked up, smiled, set down his book and folded one arm behind his head of full, silvery hair. “Hi.”

“Are we going this weekend?”

“I don’t know, baby,” he sighed. “You know if I go it’s going to be a whole thing. People will descend upon me asking about the band, Freddie and the good old days, that Adam Lambert kid, god knows what else.”

Calla nodded solemnly. John was right. He had retired in 1997, and while he still saw Rog and Brian fairly frequently in private settings, he took great pains to avoid the music industry and all its prying intrigue. Calla stared at her bare feet, skimming them across the hardwood floor. “Yeah. Okay.”

“But you should definitely go.”

Her gaze shot up at him, her eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Absolutely. You brave the crowds far better than I do. And I know Rog wants you there. Wait, allow me to elaborate. He’d be heartbroken if you weren’t there.”

“Isn’t it a little...I don’t know...weird for me to go?”

He shrugged. “Why would it be weird? I’m sure Dom and Debbie will make appearances, dutifully play the role of one big happy family.” That was true; Rog prioritized staying on good terms with his exes for the sake of the children, and they obliged him. It was hard to refuse Roger anything. But that didn’t mean there was never any resentment or irritation below the surface, dull ancient pain like an old break in a bone, the wound woven closed but the corporal memory never quite wiped clean.

“Yeah, but, you know,” she gestured vaguely. “It’s different.” Because I’m not an ex, because I never will be.

“All the more reason for you to be there.”

Calla climbed into bed next to him, throwing the blankets over her shoulders, burying her face in John’s firm chest as his arms circled around her. “I’ll miss you,” she purred.

“Oh, yeah right!” he chuckled, kissing her forehead. “You’ll miss me for about ten seconds, and then you’ll find the snack table and run into a Rolling Stone or two and you’ll forget all about your boring husband back at home. Go, Calla. Have a great time. Don’t worry about me.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“I’ve aspired to a lot in my life, but being too good to you was always first on the list.”

Calla asked seriously: “Would you change anything, if you could do it all again?”

“Of course. I’d marry you sooner. Like, five years sooner.”

“We hadn’t met yet.”

He rolled his dark, expressive eyes—those eyes like wells, those eyes that Calla had fallen in love with—in mock exasperation. “Fine. Four and a half years sooner. Is that acceptable, Mrs. Deacon?”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning.

“How about you? Would you do anything differently?”

She wove her fingers through his, running her thumb across his knuckles, over the rugged supple skin of a bassist’s hand. He still played, and he still wrote songs and riffs; he would pass them through Roger to other musicians. Sometimes Rog even used them himself. “Nothing at all,” Calla answered, without knowing if it was true.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was lightning-quick and informal; the reception was thunderous. The Surrey house was flooded with flashing lights and massive flower arrangements and trays of gourmet hor d'oeuvres and a rotating door of more music industry insiders than Calla could ever count. There were classic rock songs blaring through the speakers, the heavy reverberating bass sending ripples through the champagne in her glass. It was far more like a party than a wedding, and that suited Roger perfectly.

As Calla weaved through the crowds in the garden, her low heels clicking on the cobblestones, she searched for familiar faces like seashells in the surf. She hadn’t run into any Rolling Stones yet, but they were playing through the loudspeakers. Mick Jagger’s soulful voice sang:

“I saw her today at the reception

A glass of wine in her hand,

I knew she was gonna meet her connection

At her feet was her footloose man,

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes, you might find

You get what you need.”

Calla hunted for a flash of Roger’s white hair, for Brian’s cloud of greying curls, for Anita or Dom or any of the children. She couldn’t find them. She was adrift in a sea of strangers; famous and glamorous strangers, certainly, but strangers nonetheless. They peered coolly at her through Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses and down surgeon-perfected noses. As close as she still was with the band and their families, Calla had never felt at home in the crowd of musicians and models that Roger often surrounded himself with. She didn’t belong here; perhaps she shouldn’t have come at all. Then out of the jostling droves came a familiar, deep Irish voice: “Hello, Miss Calla.” She whirled, and there was Jim Hutton.

“Jim!” Calla cried, and raced into his arms. She touched his plump cheeks, his black hair that had never greyed, his sturdy broad shoulders. Jim lived in Ireland now, but he still received an invitation to every birthday, holiday, and wedding, and Calla saw him at least a few times a year. Jim had never forgotten Freddie, although he had a wonderfully kind Italian boyfriend named Angelo who brought him great comfort. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“I thought you looked a little lost,” Jim confessed pleasantly. “Figured I’d rescue you. Come on...your lads and lass are over by the open bar.”

Calla’s children were standing in a circle and chatting easily with Roger’s, a drink in every hand. Carlisle was thirty-three, still uncannily like John in every way, an audio engineer who worked for a recording studio; he and his wife had already given John and Calla four grandchildren. Fred was a journalist for The Times in London and specialized in music and entertainment news. Kendra had just returned from a paleontological dig in Australia; she and her partner Miranda were glowing with the tans they’d picked up there. Felix was an advertising executive, Rory in medical school; both grew up to be rather serene and clever and strikingly like Dominique. Then there were Debbie’s children, all blond and rambunctious and constantly taunting each other; yet Kingston was still more like Roger in looks and temperament than any of them, and Debbie could never forgive that. Rufus was trying to balance a tray of crème brûlée on top of little Lola’s head as she giggled. Roger had named his first daughter with Debbie Tigerlily: tiger because Freddie once suggested it, and lily for, well, calla lilies.

“Hey, Mama Cal!” Rufus shouted, spotting her and waving her over. Kingston was standing next to him, sipping a rum and coke, looking dashing and characteristically impish in a blush-colored suit. Rufus idolized Kingston, both as a friend and a fellow musician. But while Rufus was a drummer like Roger, Kingston had learned from John; whenever Roger or a Queen collaboration toured, Kingston was their bassist. To Calla’s knowledge, no one had ever had an explicit conversation with her youngest son about his parentage. His relationship with Roger—an eclectic mix of familial affection, mentorship, and partying camaraderie—developed completely and organically. But they all had eyes, and the resemblance was unmistakable. Whether or not anyone would ever say the words aloud, Calla believed they knew.

“Hi, babies!” Calla chimed, hugging them all one after the other. Jim shook Fred’s hand and began asking him about a new experimental folk band called Mumford and Sons that Fred just published an interview with.

“Dad didn’t make it?” Kingston asked, peeking around Calla, sounding disappointed though perhaps not surprised.

“No, love, I’m sorry. You know him. This is quite a crowd.”

“Well I’ll see him for Sunday dinner for sure then,” Kingston said with a singleminded determination that was all Roger. Calla and John hosted a weekly get-together for however many of their children and grandchildren were able to attend. Occasionally Roger or Brian’s families came along too.

Debbie appeared to check on her children and greeted Jim warmly, although she was mindful to ignore Calla. That was nothing new. Calla had no personal vendetta against Debbie—she was once good for Roger, and remained an impeccable mother—but they had never been friendly. After a moment, Dominique found them as well.

“Bonjour, Calla!” Dom announced, much louder than necessary. Debbie gave Calla a quick glance then disappeared towards the bar. Calla and Dom embraced briefly, exchanged pleasantries, asked about each other’s plans for the upcoming holiday season.

“Good evening, Dr. Callahan Deacon!” Brian said as he and Anita materialized out of the crowd.

“Please don’t!” Calla pleaded. She had gone back to school after her kids left home, earning a PhD in British history from Oxford. She taught a class or two a semester and had authored a biography of George IV’s daughter Princess Charlotte that was well-received. Roger, ever-supportive if excessive at times, had ordered one hundred copies. Calla hugged Brian, standing on her tiptoes, and then Anita. “Look how stunning you both are! How are you?”

Anita, never short on words, launched into a spirited tirade against some uppity young Scottish actor who was ruining her latest play as Brian nodded along sympathetically. Anita was like all actresses, magnetic and engaging if sometimes volatile, as well as being one of the most sincerely caring people Calla had ever known. Through she was still in touch with Chrissie, Calla didn’t begrudge Brian or Anita anything; she knew that love was rarely straightforward and without casualties. Calla’s eyes scanned the teeming garden as she listened to Anita, still seeking, growing discouraged. When Anita darted off to say hello to the children, Brian leaned down towards Calla, his tresses tickling her bare shoulder.

“He’s by the top of the steps,” Brian whispered to her. “He’s been looking for you too.”

“Thank you, Bri.”

He smiled at her and ran one long, agile hand over her hair fondly. “Tell John I said hello. And that I’ll see him at Thanksgiving if not before.”

“He’ll be delighted,” Calla replied. John might not admit it, but he would be.

“If you want to share a limo home, Anita and I will have one.”

“That sounds perfect, Bri. I’ll text if I can’t find you.”

“Oh god,” he bemoaned, tossing his hands in the air. “Texting.”

“Would you prefer smoke signals?”

“You can text me, love.” Anita reappeared, patting Calla’s shoulder reassuringly and rolling her eyes at Brian. “Have a magical night, Calla dear.”

The hem of her gown brushed the stones beneath her feet as Calla passed fountains, dancing couples, innumerable servers balancing impossibly full trays of drinks on their shoulders. There was a crooked stone staircase at the back of the garden and courtyard area that led down into Roger’s several acres of vibrant green grass, willow trees, and blackberry bushes. Sure enough, Roger was there. His hair was shorter now and gelled back, his beard and moustache neatly trimmed, his hand resting on the railing that split the steps. He was in a black tuxedo, Sarina in black and purple lace, a nontraditional choice that allowed the guests to wear white if they chose. Calla was in white, an empire-waisted dress with a keyhole opening in the bodice and dangling rose quartz earrings to match the ring on her right hand. Roger had given them to her for Christmas last year. The newly married couple were talking to several people that Calla didn’t know.

Sarina was explaining: “...When we redid the backyard and put the stone staircase in, Roger suddenly had all of these ideas. And you know him, he never has the patience for decorating or landscaping or any of that, but he was insistent that there needed to be exactly twenty-seven steps. And the builders fought with him for weeks, saying that didn’t make any sense, that there was no way to keep that number and have the proper spacing, but Rog was persistent! So they’re a little unevenly spaced and worn in spots, quite imperfect, not at all conventional. But there are precisely twenty-seven nonetheless.”

Rog once married Dominique to give her and their children financial security, and now he was doing the same for Sarina; not because they had children, but because Roger was sixty-one years old. It seemed impossible that Calla could ever exist in a world without him, although she supposed no one knew how much longer they had left on earth, no one could hear the ominous workings of fate’s pocket watch as their time ticked down to zero. Dom was only a few years younger than Roger, Debbie ten years younger, Sarina twenty; and Calla wondered if in another decade Roger would decide it was time for someone newer, more gorgeous, ever-youthful. Calla hoped not. She liked Sarina—she was sunny and talkative and compassionate and fiercely independent—and she had never been anything but openly welcoming to Calla. Sarina understood the score perfectly, and she didn’t just accept it. She was blissfully content with it.

Roger’s back was to Calla, so Sarina saw her first. “Hello, lovely! Oh my god, don’t you look spectacular?!”

Roger turned, slipping on his prescription sunglasses momentarily so he could see, and beamed blindingly. He had been looking for her. “Hey, Calla Lily!” He trotted over as Sarina dutifully entertained their guests, leaving him a great swath of space. Rog drew Calla into his arms, his warmth billowing through her; and she was taken back to all those moments they had shared, infinite seconds so much more private than these.

“Hi,” she began, a little shyly.

Rog pulled away and clasped her hands, his thumb running across the tattoo on her left wrist, the one she had gotten for him there on a rainy night in Munich over thirty years ago. “I hope you were searching for me all night.”

“I’m actually just here for the celebrities and filet mignon.”

“You look great, by the way.”

“Do I? This dress was a backup, the first one suffered a collie-related injury. I fear I’m not quite my best.”

“Hey, what’d I tell you?” Roger chastised sternly. “You are always your best.”

Calla smiled up at him. “I keep overhearing people talking about Adam Lambert. When do I get to meet him?”

“Patience is a virtue, Callahan Rose Deacon,” Roger teased. “But I suspect it won’t be too long.”

“What’s this, a clandestine collaboration?! Juicy stuff.”

“Maybe. He’ll have to tour with American Idol first, and then he’ll have an album to record. It may take a few years to come together. But if we do ask and he’s interested, you’ll be the first to know.” Rog and Brian honored John’s preference that they not discuss details of the band’s activities with him, but they still kept Calla updated, and she relayed anything she felt John needed to know. “If it happens, I can get you VIP tickets. I’m well-connected, you know. I’m kind of a big deal. I was in a pretty cool band once. We had a hit or two.”

“I had no idea. The mansion was too subtle.”

He held out his hand to her, a hand that was strong and visceral and rough, a drummer’s hand. “Dance with me?”

“Rog...I don’t know.” She wanted to, of course she wanted to. But here? Now?

“Please, Calla,” he said softly. And he led her carefully down the twenty-seven steps to the glossy wooden dancefloor that had been laid out on the grass. There were a few couples waltzing on the other end of the floor, but Calla and Roger were more or less alone. There were strings of white twinkling lights surrounding them, black skies above. A cool autumn breeze blew through Calla’s hair, and Roger brushed it out of her eyes. As they took each other’s hands and began to dance, swaying slowly to the music, the opening keyboard notes of Touch Me sounded through the speakers.

“How did this rubbish get on the playlist?” Calla joked. “You don’t like The Doors.”

“No, but I know someone who does.”

“They must have good taste.”

“Undeniably. Especially in baby daddies.”

“Oh my god, Roger.”

He grinned mischievously at her, then sang along as they circled: “Now I’m gonna love you, ‘til the heavens stop the rain...” Roger’s eyes met hers, deep and thoughtful, slowly becoming somber. He had changed so much since she’d first met him—his hair and clothes, his voice, the faint crinkles in his skin, how swiftly he danced—but his eyes were always the same. “You were right, you know.”

“I usually am,” Calla quipped, but she wasn’t sure what he meant.

“About you and me,” he said quietly, so that only she could hear. “Being together would have destroyed us. It took me a long time to come to terms with that. Decades. But I look back at all the incredible experiences I’ve had, all the freedom, all the parties and the chaos on tour, my solo career, my children...and I couldn’t have had any of that without hurting you. I would have had other things if we’d been together, of course; countless and amazing things. But I would have fucked up eventually, Calla. I know that like I know my own bones. And it would have torn you apart, just like it did when John stepped out. There were days, months, years when I would have killed to make you leave John, when I’d wake up at night sweated and gasping and reaching out for someone who wasn’t there. But after all these years we’re still okay, you and me. We’re permanent. And I understand now that making you choose me wouldn’t have just been disastrous. It would have been astronomically selfish.”

Calla gazed at him, feeling the weight of the immeasurable times she’d had to stop him slipping through her fingertips, feeling suddenly feather-light and blameless and free. The relief was so powerful her eyes began to mist; and some of that must have been sorrow as well, because all at once she wanted nothing more than to feel Roger’s lips against hers, to be alone with him, to be lost in their peculiar brand of love, to find solace. The truth wasn’t always easy; the truth wasn’t always painless. Yet it was truth nonetheless, immutable, sweeping.

“You know, Sarina...she’s good for me. She’s got her own ambitions, her own friends...she can drop off the map and go shoot a movie for a few weeks and be completely fine on her own, and when she comes home there are no questions about where I’ve been or who I’ve seen. She gets me, accepts who I am entirely. It doesn’t bother her a bit. She’s not resigned like Dom, she doesn’t have delusions of taming me like Debbie did. She’s actually happy. And John...he’s the most genuinely decent man I’ve ever met, he’s the best of us. He was always the good one. There’s no one better for you on this whole fucking planet, everyone knows that.”

Calla nodded, and a tear fled down her cheek. Roger swiped it away with his thumb.

“But here’s the thing.” And Roger shot her a crooked smile, his emerald eyes shimmering. “I still love you. I always have, I always will. And there were times when I thought that was a curse, that it was this infuriatingly pointless shadow I’d have hanging over my entire life. But now I see that it’s the opposite, that it’s a gift. That you have always been a gift.”

Calla couldn’t find her voice, but her lips formed the words: I love you.

Roger leaned in to kiss her, and Calla laid a palm on the black lapel of his tuxedo.

“We can’t,” she whispered.

So instead, he touched his forehead to hers as they danced, and for a while there was no space between them at all. At last, Roger pulled back. “We do a pretty good job keeping things uncomplicated three hundred and fifty-eight-ish days a year.”

“I agree, Roger Meddows Taylor.”

“Where are we going next summer? Seychelles, Maui, Iceland...I’ll pretend to hate it, of course, but I’m secretly all about that overcast skies and hot springs life.”

“I was thinking maybe...Chicago.”

“Really?” He was shocked, but not necessarily unamenable. Calla never mentioned her hometown; if she ever lost her accent, it would be easy to forget she was an American at all.

She shrugged. “I just thought...that maybe it’s time to go back. To make new memories. Good ones.”

Roger grinned, his eyes skyward, already planning. “I can handle that. We’ll go out to the pier, visit the art museum, eat hot dogs and deep-dish pizza until we burst...and of course we have to look down over the city from the top of the Willis Tower.”

“Sounds petrifying. You wouldn’t just be plotting to get me all scared and vulnerable and cuddly?”

“Okay, why do you have to be so fucking smart? Did you not binge drink enough as a teenager? Do more blow or something.”

Calla laughed and released his hands, taking a few steps backwards, opening up the night between them. “I have to let you go now, Roger,” she said. “This isn’t our wedding.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

He winked at her. “None of those, remember?”

“Goodnight, Rog.” She started towards the staircase.

“Hey,” he called after her, and Calla turned back. The dancefloor on which he stood was an island of light in the darkness. “I’ll see you for Thanksgiving. And for your birthday, and for Christmas, and for Kingston’s birthday...on down the line.”

Calla waved. “You will.” There would never be a time when there wasn’t a visit with Roger penciled into her calendar, when they weren’t looking forward to seeing each other again. There would never be a time when they wouldn’t be okay. She ascended the stone steps, knowing Rog was watching her, knowing that she was rapidly fading out of his poor vision, a flicker of white in a million variants of grey.

She navigated through the increasingly intoxicated crowd in the garden, making her way towards the house, digging through her purse for her cellphone so she could text Anita. Then Calla’s heel caught on a crack in a cobblestone and she stumbled, accidentally colliding into a slim man wearing a tight leopard print jacket. He lurched, cursing, spilling his drink down the front of his shirt.

“Oh no!” Calla cried, reaching out to steady him. “I am so sorry, sir, here, let me get you a towel or something...”

And then the man turned to her. He was no Rolling Stone, but he was cut from the same cloth. It was Steven Tyler.

“Uh...hi,” Calla stammered, stunned.

“You alright there, Mrs. Deacon?”

“I, uh, yeah, I...” She blinked, shaking her head, then pointed to his shirt. “I am so sorry about that.”

“No problem. I’ve survived worse.” He stared at her, his long hair hanging chaotically around his arresting features, the empty drink glass still in his hand. “If I’m not mistaken—and I may very well be—I think you bitched me out at a bar once or something.”

Calla tittered nervously, fumbling with her cellphone. “Yeah, that was me. It was Freddie’s birthday party. 1977, maybe? No, I was pregnant with Kendra. ‘78. I apologize, that was probably rude. I was a bit more...fiery back then.”

His sable eyes were slowly filling with reminiscence, like water pouring into a ship. “You thought I was going to kill Roger. Evidently, I did not.”

“What a relief. Have a good night, Mr. Tyler.” Then a thought struck her and she halted mid-step. “Wait, can I ask you something?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“When I cornered you at Fred’s party, you seemed to know who I was, you recognized my name. And I don’t think you and John ever really crossed paths, so...how did you know me?”

Steven Tyler scoffed as if that was a ridiculous question, as if it was obvious. “Because Roger talked about you.”

“Oh...?” Calla knew that Rog and Tyler had once spent a week together doing every drug conceivable in a Los Angeles hotel room, but Roger had virtually no recollection of it. It was a haze, a mystery, an inescapable black hole in the whirling galaxy of his life.

Tyler threw his head back and cackled, nodding. “I don’t remember much about that week, but I remember that part. He got high out of his skull and he started just pouring out stories about this brilliant American girl named Callahan Rose Deacon. Saying that he was in love with her, that he’d always been in love with her, that she was it for him.” He flourished his hand above his head towards the pearlescent balloons, the strings of lights, the wedding they both found themselves attending. “Which makes all of this very interesting, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Calla answered, dazed.

“He said you told him that he was a good person. That you said...oh, fuck, what was it? Something eloquent. Something...uh...something about miracles? I don’t know.”

Calla spoke very slowly as she recalled the words she’d whispered nearly forty years ago in Roger’s mother’s basement on Christmas Eve, snatching them out of the ageless ether like stars from the far side of the Milky Way. “There is nothing in this world that could make me think you are anything less than miraculous.”

Tyler’s vast lips broke into a grin and he pointed at her. “That’s it. He said that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. That he would never forget it. That he would never forget you.”

And that was wondrous; but something about it made her tremendously sad as well. It hit her like a freight train: that sharp familiar longing, that unquenchable homesickness when Roger stood in one corner of a room and she another, the endless list of all the moments he would share with people who weren’t her. She knew that feeling would pass, it always did; it was something they had both learned to live with, had grown to accept as a temporary yet terrifying side effect of the lives they had chosen. But just now it was slitting through her like blades.

Steven Tyler turned serious, his eyes suddenly sympathetic. “Look, Calla, I know I don’t really know you or anything, but...don’t do this to yourself. You don’t have to be here.”

She steeled herself, pushing aside the despair, shining a spotlight down every shadowed corridor of her soul. And then, not without effort, Calla smiled. “He’d do the same for me. Actually, he already has.”

All the way home in the limo, Calla shared stories with Brian and Anita, made arrangements for this year’s Thanksgiving dinner, asked Bri about the Perseid meteor shower she and John had observed in August, stretched out in the backyard on a blanket under the stars. The limo dropped her off in a quiet neighborhood in Putney where Roger still owned the house next to hers. The moon was high, the night sky clear and still, the same sky that held them all: Calla and John and their children, Roger and Sarina, Brian and Anita and Jim Hutton; the same crystalline heavens that had once shone down on Freddie Mercury. And then she heard his voice with perfect clarity: Darling, you’ve done so well. Now come home.

Calla turned her key in the lock and stepped inside. Waffles and Henry VIII—affectionally shortened to just plain Henry—met her at the door, barking and circling excitedly. She chuckled as she ran her hands over their tricolored fur, their fluffy tails, their pointed muzzles.

“Hello, lovelies! Did you miss Mama? Mama might have stashed a little filet mignon in her purse for you, but don’t tell Uncle Roger.” Waffles woofed in reply.

On the living room couch, as a fire roared in the woodstove, John was teaching their oldest granddaughter how to play acoustic guitar. Violet Rose Deacon’s small fingers moved beneath his as he pointed her towards the right strings, to the perfect placement on the fretboard.

“There you go...flawless! You’re a natural! Finally, another musician in the family. Okay, just like that. Go ahead.”

As Violet strummed, her face lit up with pride and exhilaration, John sang softly:

“You're the first one, when things turn out bad,

You know I'll never be lonely, you're my only one

And I love the things, I really love the things that you do,

Oh, you're my best friend.”

Violet glanced up and spied Calla. “Hi, Grandma!”

“Oh, hell, am I that old? You sound amazing, dear.”

“Welcome back, love of my life!” John stood and met her in the doorway, cradling her face in his hands and kissing her, heat spinning through them like it once had at Rockfield Farm, in Perth, in Sardinia, that passion that never died. “Tell us all about it. How was the party? Which celebrities got drunk and fell in the pool? Any accidental drownings? Wardrobe malfunctions? Jerry Springer drama with the exes?” Violet giggled wildly from the couch. Yet beneath his flippancy John was watchful, trying to read Calla, trying to figure out what she needed from him.

She sank into his dark eyes, finding a lifetime of adoration there, finding the unshifting ground that held her firmly to the earth. And it was precisely as it always was when Calla returned to her family after being with Roger: his fingerprints evaporated from her skin like puddles after rain, the mournfulness vanished, shadows lifted under dazzling light, her memories of him became more wistful than biting. Calla loved Roger; that was true and always would be. But now she was exactly where she belonged. She had found her place in the universe. And all her doubts were whisked away into October sky.

“You’re home,” John murmured, embracing her tightly, his lips soft against her neck. She had once been alone, but she wasn’t anymore. She never would be again.

Calla smiled as she whispered into him: “I’m home.”

#twenty seven steps #twenty seven steps series #queen fic #borhap fic #bohemian rhapsody #john deacon fic #roger taylor fic #joe mazzello #ben hardy #john deacon #roger taylor #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 5 years

Text

A Night At The Opera- Chapter 4

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May x reader/ John Deacon x reader

TW: Brian being possessive of what’s not his(AGAIN), blood, brian wants the readers blood lmao, managers being dicks, language, the managers are also pervs and everyone seems to hate (Y/N) I stg, vomit, blood, angry brian, murder, betrayal ig?

Genre: Horror ig?? ( based on phantom Of the opera)

Series: A Night At The Opera

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Oof this chapter is BEEFY. Hope you guys enjoy!

(Y/N) sat in the darkness, chest heaving with every second that she spent there. The darkness had been something that she loved, something that she thrived in. Now, since he'd come into her life, she was terrified of it. Never wanting to spend more than a few seconds inside of it. A soft voice sang distantly and (Y/N)'s hair rose on the back of her neck, eyes darting to the full-length mirror. The girl instantly shot up, sprinting to the door and jiggling the door handle. It was locked. Or blocked from the outside.

"And where do you think you're going?" Brian's voice was gentle, but held a slight venom to it, making her freeze, hand instantly letting go of the door handle as if it had scorched her.

"I just- just have to go talk to Deaky," (Y/N) stammered anxiously, her fingers clutching the stem of the rose that had remained in her hand. Brian's dark eyes flitted down to the rose and a smile grew on his face, but it promptly transformed back into a frown at the mention of Deaky. One of the barriers between their love. Deaky didn't deserve her affection. The only person that deserved it, deserved her, was him.

"No, you don't. You don't need to talk to that insolent boy. He only tries to bask in your glory. This brave, young suitor, sharing in my triumph," Brian's words were cold and sarcastic, and he made his distaste, his hatred, for Deaky as definite as anyone could do. (Y/N)'s eyes flashed in alarm, as she took a step back, only to have her back pressed to the door. She didn't see anything but Brian could see the way her eyes flared and fear started to seep in.

"He doesn't- ow! Shit!" She cursed, feeling a small prickle of pain in her middle finger. Looking down, (Y/N) saw a thorn on the rose, covered in a bit of blood. Her blood. There was a small trickle of blood, leaking from her middle finger and she brought it up to inspect it. But Brian couldn't tear his eyes away from it. The smell of her blood made his eyes swirl and glow red, darting around frantically. Her blood smelt astounding. He had to have her...

No! No! What was he thinking? He couldn't hurt her. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't let herself. While (Y/N) eyed the tiny wound, Brian allowed himself to tread backwards, slipping back into the gap he had hidden behind the mirror, and taking off. The girl hadn't even noticed he'd left, as what had taken forever for him, had taken the blink of an eye for her. (Y/N) glanced up from her bloodied finger and did a double-take upon seeing nothing but an empty room. Was she imagining things again? Had she been talking to herself? What the actual fuck was going on?

"Boys, (Y/N)," Lucille quietly stated, pulling from the group from their conversation "I would like to introduce you to Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams. They are the new managers of the theatre," It was then that they noticed the two men stood behind Lucille. The first man stood tall, hands folded behind his back. His lips were pulled back into a thin line, beady black eyes peering over a hooked nose. He had a beard growing on his face, making him look slightly burlier than he was, and long, slightly greasy, hair flowed over his shoulders.

The second man was older, if not he had under gone a lot of stress in his time, judging by his grey, almost white hair. It was clipped short, making his ears protrude quite largely. Wrinkles were embedded deep into his pale skin. His face was fairly thin and his piercing blue eyes, hidden beneath fairly thick white eyebrows, seemed to stare into the groups souls. The clothes he wore were pristine, not a crease or mark in sight.

Casually, Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams stepped forwards, extending a hand each and the band shook their hands, one by one, albeit quite warily. Freddie gave them both a rosy smile, Roger a small scowl, Deaky a small nod of acknowledgement, (Y/N) an unconvincing look of merriment and Adam, well, no one had ever seen Adam grin so wide. His eyes were bright and excitable, gawking at them in astonishment. However, when these two men shook hands with (Y/N), they exchanged a look that was a little too perverted for her liking. She wore only a black tank top, to prevent her from getting too while sorting the stage and lighting, and some black leggings, but she practically felt exposed under their gazes. It was a painfully awkward situation and she desired nothing more than to get back to her work. Deaky felt his blood boiling, his skin writhing as the two managers got closer to his girlfriend

"And what is your name, young lady?" Dr Addams asked, sky blue eyes ogling at her, leaning down so he was barely an inch away from her face. The girl took a step back, a forced laugh pushing past her lips.

"(Y/N) (L/N)," She answered shortly, narrowing her eyes, daring him to continue acting the way he was. Deaky swiftly sidestepped to her and wrapped a secure arm around her waist.

"Our techie, roadie and my girlfriend," Deaky added, putting as much emphasis on the girlfriend as possible. Mr Goldbrooke smirked at the younger man's possessiveness and too got closer to the pair. Roger felt himself bristle and damn near punched both of them in the face.

"If you ever tire of him, dear, you know where to find us," Goldbrooke chuckled but before Roger's head could blow, Lucille positioned herself between the new managers and the band.

"I have a letter for you sirs, you too, boys," Lucille passed an envelope to each person, watching as the bands eyes all furrowed in confusion.

"A letter?" Adam questioned.

"Who from, darling?" Freddie pushed

"I didn't even know we could receive letters here," Roger mumbled, glancing at Deaky and (Y/N), who only shrugged, just as confused. However, Dr Addams and Mr Goldbrooke only let out small scoffs before Dr Addams ripped the envelope open, paying no mind to the intricate wax seal.

"I would like to welcome you gentlemen to my opera house. I trust that Lucille has made you well acquainted with the band that is performing here for the coming months, Queen. They are an exceptional talent. The opera house is an important factor in this city and I want you to take care of it as well as I have. I would like to remind you, nevertheless, that your payment is due. Leave £4,000 on the counter of Mr Freddie Mercury's dressing room. I also command that box five is to be left empty. See to it that these demands are followed or there will be dire consequences. - B.M- Opera ghost" The doctor read, flabberghasted. Mr Goldbrooke snatched the paper from his hands, ignoring the prying eyes of the band stood in front of him.

"£4,000?!" Mr Goldbrooke parroted, eyes wide, a look of bewilderment planted in them.

"The old manager used to pay £12,000 per month if they think that is too much," Lucille muttered to (Y/N), causing the girl to giggle, thumb running over the wax seal of the letter in her hand. The giggle didn't get past the two managers, who's sharp eyes shot to her.

"Go on, girl! What does yours say?" Mr Goldbrooke commanded, a snicker rising from Adam. Freddie immediately placed himself in front of her, glaring at the two men who towered over him slightly.

"Her name is (Y/N)," Freddie hissed protectively, nearly baring his teeth in anger. (Y/N) took Freddie's hand, tugging him back gently. It wasn't worth the fight. They needed these performances. Hesitantly, she looked down at the envelope, the word ' Queen' written in cursive, before turning it over. The red wax that was pressed onto the parchment was in the form of a skull, and she nearly felt her blood run cold. Her hands began to tremble but, nevertheless, she cracked open the envelope and drew the letter out.

"Your performance featuring Miss (L/N) was, in a word, stupendous. She is a vast improvement from the fool you call Adam. He is a snivelling cockroach who can't tell his E string from his B string. (Y/N) has an immense talent that you can no longer ignore, and I would like all of your performances from this day forth to feature her, rather than that mule. Should these actions not be followed, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur- B.M- Opera Ghost," She announced out loud, her words growing more clustered and slightly panicked. Roger set his hand on her shoulder, concern rising in his body; Deaky's arm tightened around her waist, feeling goosebumps rising on her flesh and Freddie clutched onto her hand tightly, squeezing it slightly.

"Are you alright, lovie?" Deaky asked softly, his lips making contact with her temple as they moved. (Y/N) nodded slightly but it wasn't convincing. Adam's glare seared into her back, his face growing redder with rage, while the two managers watched the group cooing over the girl, a look of slight disgust on their faces.

"(Y/N) can't take my place! She won’t take my place! I earned this job! Besides she can't even play! She fumbles with the strings and doesn't know how to play a proper riff!" Adam exploded, arms folded tightly over his chest, pouting like a toddler.

"Is that why we have a full house tonight? Her playing sold more tickets last night than yours has ever done. And, unlike you, (Y/N) can hit the fucking notes!" Roger snapped instantly, taking a defensive stance and removing his hand from (Y/N)'s shoulder.

"As amusing as this is, I believe this young man here. Adam, is it?" Mr Goldbrooke interrupted, brushing past Roger carelessly. Adam nodded immediately.

"Adam Johnson, sir," He replied. God, what a suck-up.

"But (Y/N) is a much better performer than Adam will ever be! People don't cringe when they hear her play, for one," Deaky continued, remembering their first performance. A few people had left that first night, due to Adams lacklustre playing.

"Mr Deacon, maybe you should be thinking about this situation with your brain rather than what's between your legs," Dr Addams remarked and (Y/N) ruffled, steam nearly rolling out of her ears. But as she went to approach the man, to give him a piece of her mind, she was yanked back.

"With all due respect, doctor, sir, the Opera Ghost has stated that he wants her to play. I have seen many disasters happen because people haven't followed his instructions. The opera ghost sees, the opera ghost knows," Lucille commented calmly, attempting to remedy the heated situation.

"For god's sake! Can't you all see that this is some sick joke! There is no opera ghost here! We will not be paying £4,000, we won't leave box five empty and Mr Johnson will most definitely be playing instead of Miss (L/N)," Dr Addams shouted, causing every to quieten down.

"Oh and (Y/N), I'm afraid you're being demoted. You see, we've hired our own tech group, so you need not do anything," Mr Goldbrooke smirked slightly but that smirk didn't remain for long as Freddie waltzed right up to the man, standing so close that he could feel Mr Goldbrooke's disgusting breath on his face.

"Who do you think you are, firing my staff?" Freddie growled lowly, so quiet that it almost seemed as if he hadn't said anything at all. Roger and Deaky's eyebrows raised in surprise at Freddie's outburst.

"I'm the manager here. I can stop you performing here altogether if I don't like what I see," Mr Goldbrooke replied, before glancing at the Doctor and the pair took their leave. Deaky let out a long sigh, Freddie rolled his eyes and Roger decided it was a bright idea to punch the wall beside him. Spontaneously, he let out a loud curse and pulled his hand back, to reveal his knuckles starting to grow bloody.

"For goodness sakes, Rog. Come on, let me patch you up," (Y/N) murmured, starting to head to the bathroom to grab the first-aid set. Everyone, minus Adam, who still held a sour look on his face, shared a look. Something wasn't right. She hadn't been acting right since she read that letter. Freddie took the note from Lucille, reading it over himself. Why had this ghost sent this? Something told him that the band's success wasn't where this opera ghosts interests lay. It was all to do with her. Why was he obssessed with her? What did he want with her?

(Y/N) was busy cleaning the stage of some of the rubbish that had been dropped on stage the day before and that afternoon. She could hear the tinkering and chattering of a few techies up in the scaffolding as she brushed the rubbish to the side to scoop up in a trash bag later. Faintly, a squeal of excitement sounded from backstage, which (Y/N) could only guess was Adam's girlfriend Freya. Adam hadn't shut the fuck up about her and how hot she was since Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams had gone off to who knows where.She continued to brush dust and rubbish off stage before placing the brush down and tucking a few wires away. (Y/N) checked the number of spare drumsticks behind Rog's drumset, before taking a wipe and starting to rub off the sticky mess the bear had left behind. Sat on the floor, (Y/N) pushed her hair back before getting to work. After a few minutes, heels clacking on the stage brought the girl back to reality. Freya sat herself down on the stool behind the drumset as (Y/N) scrubbed, not paying Adam's girlfriend any mind.

"Wow, Adam was right. You are a rude bitch," Freya's pitchy voice commented, making (Y/N)'s eyes snap up to her. She had silky, straight, auburn locks, positioned perfectly in a half-up half-down hairdo. There was a thick layer of makeup plastered on her tanned skin, making her look very barbie-gone-wrong. Her shirt barely hid her boobs and her skirt was halfway up her butt, showing off more skin than deemed appropriate in public, and those shoes could NOT be comfortable to walk in.

"Sorry, trying to work, if you haven't noticed," (Y/N) sneered back, eyes falling back to the work ahead of her

. "Y'know, I heard about last night. You're trying to steal my boyfriend's job, but it's not going to work. He has more talent in his finger than you do in your entire body. So when Queen get famous because of him, you're just going to be lingering behind. A sad little roadie pushed away from the limelight," Freya said, blowing a piece of gum that (Y/N) hadn't even noticed that she had in her mouth. A small smile of disbelief rose to her lips.

"Right to the chase, huh? I can see Adam only chooses women as pleasant as he is," (Y/N) replied, throwing the dirtied wipe to the side and reaching for another once. But before she could reach the packet, Freya caught onto her wrist, wrenching her forward so that she nearly hit her head on one of the drums.

"Just stay away from my boyfriend. He's on a walk straight to fame but you keep getting in the way. Just fuck off, alright?" Freya released her wrist and (Y/N) chuckled slightly

. "Alright, I got it, princess. I got to get back to work if you'll excuse me," (Y/N) shot back sharply, giving her a pointed look and soon enough, Freya stood up and walked back to the backstage area.

"Are we ready boys?" Roger asked as he bounced on the spot, shaking out his wrists. Freddie was busy taking a long sip of water, before throwing back a shot of vodka, while Deaky checked that his bass was properly tuned. But both boys hummed in agreement. Adam, however, was too busy sucking Freya's face off, nearly catching one of the strings of his guitar on Freya's massive bracelet.

"Ready, my love?" Deaky turned to (Y/N), who was occupied on running over a control centre that had possession over the lights on stage. The new techies had fitted it in earlier and showed her how to use it before fucking off, leaving one guy up in the scaffolding. The guy they'd left in the scaffolding was a massive dick, who barely cared about his job but rather taking preference to ogle the girls and drinking any booze he could find. Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams were sat in box five and Adam was set to play on stage.

Neither of those things helped ease (Y/N)'s anxiety about the letter the group had received earlier. Something terrible was going to happen. She could feel it in her gut. She tried to push it aside as paranoia, but the feeling kept returning. Haunting her. (Y/N) knew that Brian would do anything to get his way. The two scabs on Adam's neck reminded her of that every time she looked over at him. The fresh rose on the table in Deaky's dressing room taunted her. It'd appeared earlier while the band were taking a break. (Y/N) had gone to grab one of her boyfriend's hoodie's only to find a new red rose on the table, tied with that same silk black bow.

Then the moment she dreaded came. The boys ran on stage, and Deaky's low, rhythmic bass started, followed by Roger's immaculate drumming, Freddie's perfect pitch. And Adam's artificial playing. (Y/N) winced as she adjusted the lighting, changing the colour from green to a red colour. Freya seemed to get as close to her as possible, while still watching her talentless boyfriend play. It was forty-five minutes into the show before anything happened. With each minute that passed (Y/N) could both feel her heart in her throat and her body calming.

Until there was a loud crash on stage and all the music came to a jolting halt. Upon the impact, there were a few screams and a few gasps as a light landed a few yards from Adam's body. Suddenly, just as everyone was beginning to calm down, and as (Y/N) ran on stage to remove the shattered light, a booming voice called out

."Didn't I strictly instruct that box five was to be left empty."A few more murmurs resonated through the crowd and just past the chandelier (Y/N) could see a dark body, an insane mass of hair and a white surgical mask. In the corner of her eye, she could spy the techie in the scaffolding running between lights to check their security.

"He's here. The Opera ghost," (Y/N) stated out loud but Adam lightly smacked her with his guitar, turning to make it seem like an accident

."You're supposed to be silent, little toad," He hissed. (Y/N) only gave a fearful exhale before she pulled the broken light off stage, carefully lifting it and placing as much as she could on the table. Deaky glared furiously at Adam. How dare he? Up in the hidden ceiling compartment, Brian watched the interaction between his beloved and that awful creature, finding himself mumbling

"A toad, sir? I think you'll find it's you, who are the toad."

After a few minutes of calming the audience down, Roger counted the group back in, though they all looked anxious to get off the stage, especially Deaky, who wanted nothing more than to run to (Y/N) and just cuddle with her for the rest of eternity. The music continued, and everyone seemed to think that it would be the end of their troubles.

If only.

Freya watched curiously when she saw the techie in the scaffolding running around again, except this time, he looked terrified out of his mind. Thinking nothing of it, she brushed it off as worry for any more falling lights and looked back down to the performers on stage. She wished that was all it had been. (Y/N) was too distracted with the lighting to notice the commotion happening in the scaffolding.

Because not even five minutes later there was an even louder thud and a blood-curdling scream broke through the air. (Y/N)'s head snapped to the stage and a hand shot to her mouth, a gasp catching in her throat. She thought she was going to be sick. The music on stage stopped once again but this time, there was the sound of scrabbling and yelling come from the audience. Freya sprinted off the bathroom, tears streaming down her cheeks. Because there lay the techie in the middle of the stage, eyes wide, frozen in fear, skin white as snow, veins protruding oddly, body limp and lifeless.

And two bloody bite marks on his neck.

(Y/N) raced on stage, yanked Deaky's bass off his body, gripped his hand and sprinted off, dragging him behind her. She ventured up some steep, winding stairs, her fingers clutching onto his, before shoving on a door at the top, revealing the roof of the opera house. A deep breath filled her lungs with freezing air. A bitingly cold December night. She hadn't even noticed that she'd picked up the rose on her way out.

"Why have you brought me here? We need to return" Deaky asked gently, running a light hand across her cheek.

"We can't go back there! He'll kill you! His eyes will find us there!" (Y/N) ranted, nervous eyes flitting around, her body involuntarily beginning to pace in circles

"Don't say that. Don't even think it," Deaky said, trying to calm down his hysterical girlfriend, who was so close to tears, holding the rose close to her chest.

"Those eyes that burn. And if he has to kill a thousand people, the opera ghost will kill and kill again," (Y/N) whimpered, tears building up in her eyes, about to break at any moment.

"There is no opera ghost, love. It was just a freak accident. We'll figure out what happened," He sighed, reaching out to touch her arm but she stepped back in fright.

"John, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Those kind eyes, that crazy hair, the jagged teeth, the broken mouth. In the darkness..." There was a pregnant pause, where (Y/N) glanced over the edge of the building, noticing the people flocking from the building "But his playing filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound. And I began to sour. Higher and better than I ever have in my life."

"What you saw was a dream. A nightmare. Nothing more," Deaky reassured but she kept shaking her head, hair falling out of the ponytail she had place it in.

"But in his eyes, all the sadness in the world. Like he'd lived a hundred lives that he couldn't escape. Seen all the wars the world has ever faced. Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore," If there hadn't just been an extremely traumatic event, Deaky probably would've believed her. But she'd just experienced one of the worst things possible. Looking for someone to blame.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), calm down, darling,"

"(Y/N)..." A ghostly voice called out, and (Y/N) could swear on her life that it was Brian, and she tensed, freezing on the spot. Deaky's arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the cold.

"No more talk of darkness. I'm here. Nothing will harm you," He promised, pressing his lips to her forehead soothingly. His touch was so gentle and sweet, she wanted to believe that he could hide her from the darkness of the world. From Brian. And maybe she could. Maybe she could elt herself believe it. Just this once.

"Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always. That's all I ask of you. Please, Deaky," Their noses pressed together and slowly, very slowly, the rose fell from between her fingers and to the frosted floor.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too. I can protect you You just need to believe me. (Y/N), I love you," Deaky connected their lips together tenderly, to which (Y/N) tangled her fingers in his hair. Reluctantly the pair broke away, knowing they'd have to face the music.

"I believe you. And I love you too. Now come, they'll wonder where we are," With a reassuring smile, the couples' hands reconnected, and they made their way back into the opera house, leaving the rose abandoned on the rooftop.

And in their moment, they'd failed to notice the opera ghost himself, crouched behind one of the gargoyles on the roof, listening to them intently, his heart breaking and tearing at the declaration of their love. When he was sure that they were gone, Brian stood up and wandered over to the rose, picking it up and holding it tightly to him.

"I gave you my music. I made you soar. And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me," His tears fell onto the crimson petals, but his sorrow turned to hatred when his over-sensitive hearing picked up on the exchanged words of love between (Y/N) and Deaky on their descent of the the staircase. With each word, his grip tightened on the rose until the mangled petals fell to the floor, and he threw the stem down, tearing off his cape angrily.

"You will CURSE the day you didn't do everything that the opera ghost asked of YOU!"

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @queendeakyy@scarlettequinn @stephydearestxo @likesomekindofcheese @mirkwoodshewolf @pirateprincess99

Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky@yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten @bensroger@strangeandwonderfulconcepts@babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose @psychosupernatural

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pankhearst · 7 years

Text

The Care Package

Alright. I’ve been feeling kinda down lately, so that means that it’s time for another original post that literally nobody asked for. Buckle up.

This is simply a series of links to my favorite things - anything I watch, read, or listen to if I’m feeling stressed, angry, or sad. I thought it might help someone else who might be in need of a mental break, or that it would at least help me by putting my favorite things into one place.

WARNING: This list is incredibly thorough and extremely long. A lot of these are weird, and if you view them all, you’ll have a pretty good idea of who I am as a human person.

Ambient Sounds

Magic Kingdom entrance music loop*

8 Hours of Whale Sounds Deep Underwater for Sleep and Relaxation

Bad Lip Reading

"BUSHES OF LOVE" -- Extended Lyric Video

"NOT THE FUTURE" -- Extended Lyric Video

"SEAGULLS! (Stop It Now)" -- A Bad Lip Reading of The Empire Strikes Back

STAR WARS

THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

RETURN OF THE JEDI

Brian Jordan Alvarez

The Gay and Wondrous Life of Caleb Gallo

Rowan Atkinson

Amazing Jesus

The Devil ‘Toby’ welcomes you to Hell

Dirty Names

Invisible Drumset

Brave Wilderness

Incredible Zion Adventure!

Swimming with Giants!

Ocelot Steals My Socks!

Rob Cantor

“Shia LaBeouf” Live

Stephen Colbert

Andy Serkis Becomes Gollum To Read Trump’s Tweets

James Corden

Crosswalk: The Musical

Beauty and the Beast

Mary Poppins

The Phantom of the Opera

Seth Everman

when you try all the sounds and beats on your synth while only playing toto - africa

Jimmy Fallon

Harrison Ford Pierces Jimmy Fallon’s Ear**

Chris Fleming

Company is Coming

Gayle

The Hillywood Show

Doctor Who Parody

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Parody

Pirates of the Caribbean Parody

Supernatural Parody

Carly Rae Jepsen

I Really Like You***

Mickey Mouse

Adorable Couple

Bronco Busted

Captain Donald

Doggone Biscuits

Dog Show

Flipperboobootosis

Gasp!

Goofy’s Grandma

New York Weenie

O Sole Minnie

Potatoland

Shifting Gears

Stayin’ Cool

Third Wheel

Wish Upon a Coin

Workin’ Stiff

John Mulaney

The Salt and Pepper Diner

The Muppets

Bohemian Rhapsody

Cårven Der Pümpkîn

Flowers on the Wall | With Bunsen and Beaker

Jungle Boogie

Mahna Mahna

The Muppets take on A Cappella | Cool Kids | Mike Tompkins ft. The Muppets

Pöpcørn****

Pure Imagination - Lindsey Sterling & Josh Groban with The Muppets

The Rainbow Connection

OK Go

I Won’t Let You Down

The One Moment

Upside Down and Inside Out

Nick Pitera

One-Man Disney Movie

One-Man Tribute to Aladdin on Broadway

Wicked Medley ft. Peter Hollens

Postmodern Jukebox

Call Me Maybe ft. Von Smith

My Heart Will Go On ft. Mykal Kilgore

Pompeii ft. Tony DeSare

Rude ft. Von Smith

Shake it Off ft. Von Smith

Stacey’s Mom ft. Casey Abrams

This Love ft. Devi-Ananda*****

Titanium ft. Von Smith

Umbrella ft. Casey Abrams & The Sole Sisters

Potter Puppet Pals

Apparate!

Draco Puppet

Harry’s Nightmares

The Mysterious Ticking Noise

Neville’s Birthday

Ron’s Disease

Ron’s Parents

Snape’s Diary

Wizard Angst

Wizard Swears

Saturday Night Live

Crucible Cast Party

Haunted Elevator (ft. David S. Pumpkins)

Star Trek

Star Trek Beyond Cast Dubsmash

TED Talks

JJ Abrams

The mystery box

Apollo Robbins

The Art of Misdirection

Adam Savage

My love letter to cosplay

My obsession with objects and the stories they tell

Andrew Stanton

The clues to a great story

James Veitch

This is what happens when you reply to spam email

More adventures in replying to spam

Tested

Adam Savage’s One-Day Builds

Adam Savage Demonstrates Weathering Tricks

Bear Costume

Cosmonaut Model Kit

Customizing Adam’s Hero Sword

Making a Puppet!

Totoro Costume

Traveling Beaver Box******

Misc. Inside Adam Savage’s Cave

Adam Savage’s Mercury Spacesuit Replica

The Dodo Birds Project

Tour of Adam Savage’s Cave!

Tour of Adam Savage’s Home Office

Tyrannosaurus Rex Skull

Thomas Sanders

Sanders Sides

Walk the Moon

Shut Up and Dance

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Pure Imagination

Bill Wurtz

the history of japan

history of the entire world i guess

Misc.

Bird dancing to Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys

Do you remember the 21st night of September?

Dytto

Gal Gadot singing

Girl squashes watermelon between her thighs

I cannot stress enough how important it is you watch this gorilla bathe-dancing to maniac.

I have a feeling this will become iconic in due time.

“I may not know my flowers...”

News Anchor in my area loses it over a Fat Cat that likes to swim.

No-Man’s Land | Wonder Woman (2017)

Oscars 2015 Opening Song | Neil Patrick Harris with Anna Kendrick and Jack Black

Quizzes on Buzzfeed

this is a pretty good summary of what Amsterdam is like

Tom Holland does Rihanna’s “Umbrella” on Lip Sync Battle

T-rex goes ice skating

When you are one with the music

Why I Wasn’t Contracted to Write Beauty and the Beast

*Best played on top of this. It helps add to the illusion that you’re really at the Magic Kingdom.

**I’ve refused to watch Jimmy Fallon since he had the golden-haired pumpkin on his show, but this is too good to pass up. Harrison Ford is a shining example of understated comedy. On that note, please watch Morning Glory, dir. Roger Mitchell (2010). Fantastic and underappreciated.

***God bless Tom Hanks.

****Turn on the subtitles for “Swedish Chef.”

*****They didn’t change the pronouns! It’s gay now!

******This list is too dam long.

N.B. The Piano Guys would have been on this list too, but I haven’t listened to or watched any of their stuff since it was announced they’d be performing at the Dark Lord’s coronation inauguration. Fuck them.

This list will definitely be added to at some point, but I think that’s enough for now. Meantime, PLEASE go ahead and add your own entries!

#self care #mental break

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workingclassdan · 6 years

Text

All albums I listened to in 2017

1. David Bowie - No Plan (ep) 2. Ryan Adams - Prisoner 3. Gone is Gone - Echolocation * 4. The xx - I See You 5. The Flaming Lips - Oczy Mldy 6. Cloud Nothings - Life Without Sound 7. Japandroids - Near to the Wild Heart of Life 8. Foxygen - Hang 9. Ty Segall - Ty Segall 10. Camp Cope / Cayetana - Split EP 11. Cuddle Magic - Ashes/Axis 12. Hand Habits - Wildly Idle 13. Son Volt - Notes of Blue 14. Sun Kil Moon - Common as Light… (notable for shitness) 15. PVT - New Spirit 16. Steve Vai - Modern Primitive 17. Dirty Projectors - ST (little bubble) 18. Middle Kids - EP 19. Father John Misty - Pure Comedy 20. The Waifs - Ironbark 21. Bruce Springsteen - (Odds & Rarities) 22. Thundercat - Drunk 23. Animal Collective - The Painters EP (kinda bonkers) 24. Los Campesinos - Sick Scenes 25. Grandaddy - Last Place (lost machine) 26. Methyl Ethel - Everything is Forgotten 27. Kingswood - After Hours, Close to Dawn 28. Holy Holy - Paint 29. Vagabon - Infinite Worlds 30. Spoon - Hot Thoughts (do i have to talk you into it 31. Brian Eno - Reflection 32. The Shins - Heartworms 33. Laura Marling - Semper Femina * 34. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever - The French Press EP * 35. Temples - Volcano 36. Roy Buchanan - Telemaster Live in 75 37. Real Estate - In Mind 38. Depeche Mode - Spirit * 39. Mastodon - Emperor of Sand * 40. Drake - More Life (Passionfruit) 41. Ben Wright Smith - The Great Divorce 42. Sleepmakeswaves- Made of Breath Only - (hailstones) 43. Aimee Mann - Mental Illness 44. Jesus and Mary Chain - Damage and Joy 45. Steel Panther - Lower the Bar 46. Evyltyde - Rising 47. Spiral Stairs - Doris and the Daggers 48. Julia Holter - In the Same Room * 49. Boss Hog - Brood X 50. British Sea Power - Let the Dancers Inherit the Party 51. Anjou - Epithymia 52. The Melker Project Remix 53. New Pornographers - Whiteout Conditions 54. Future Islands - The Far Field 55. Craig Finn - We All Want the Same Thing 56. Smith Street Band - More Scared of You Than You Are of Me 57. Cold War Kids - La Divine 58. Clark - Death Peak 59. The Black Angels - Death Song 60. Arca - Arca 61. Luke Howard - ? 62. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. 63. Prince - ep 64. Incubus - 8 65. Amy Shark - Night Thinker ep 66. Mew - Visuals 67. Gorillaz - Humanz 68. Ryan Adams (b-sides) - 69. Tim Rogers - An Actor Repairs * 70. Feist - Pleasure 71. Bill Baird - Easy Machines 72. Bill Baird - Baby Blue Abyss 73. Thurston Moore - Rock n Roll Conciousness 74. Colin Stetson - All This I Do For Glory 75. Bob Dylan - Triplicate 76. Pond - The Weather 77. Alice Coltrane - The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane 78. San Cisco - The Water 79. Doug Tuttle - Peace Potato 80. Big Walnuts Yonder 81. Perfume Genius - No Shape 82. Penguin Cafe - 83. Mac Demarco 84. Afghan Whigs - In Spades 85. At the Drive-In - interalia 86. Slowdive - Slowdive - falling ashes 87. Dead Letter Circus - The Endless Mile - Lines 88. Nick Murphy - Missing Link ep 89. Bob’s Burgers - s/t 90. Fleet Foxes - The Crack-Up 91. BNQT - Volume 1 92. Do Make Say Think - Stubborn Persistent Illusions 93. The Beatles - Sgt Pepper's 94. Dan Auerbach - Waiting on a Song 95. Ben Ottewell - A Man Apart 96. Bernard Fanning - Brutal Dawn 97. Roger Waters - Is This the Life We Really Want 98. Underground Lovers - Staring at You Staring At Me 99. Elder - Reflections of a Floating World 100. Half Waif - form/a ep 101. The Kills - Echo Home non-electric ep 102. Bleachers - Gone Now 103. Amber Coffman - City of No Reply 104. Marika Hackman - I’m Not Your Man * 105. Husky - Punchbuzz 106. U2 - (some bootleg of latest tour) 107. Alt-J - Relaxer (3WW) 108. Beach Fossils - Somersault 109. Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked at Me 110. London Grammar - Truth is a Beautiful Thing 111. Lindsay Buckingham/Christine McVie - 112. Phoenix - Ti Amo 113. Sufjan Stevens, Bryce Dessner, Nico Muhly, James McAlister - Planetarium 114. Big Thief - Capacity Mythological Beauty 115. Kirin J Callinan - Bravado 116. The Magpie Salute - The Magpie Salute (Live) 117. Portugal. The Man - Woodstock 118. Lorde - Melodrama * 119. Royal Blood - How Did We Get So Dark? 120. Ride - Weather Diaries 121. Cigarettes After Sex - s/t 122. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - Flying Microtonal Banana 123. Jeff Tweedy - Together at Last 124. Tara Jane O’Neil - s/t 125. Baby Driver soundtrack 126. UNKLE - The Road pt1 127. Silicon Valley soundtrack 128. Haim - Something to Tell You 129. Broken Social Scene - Hug of Thunder 130. Jay-Z - 4:44 131. Tex, Don & Charlie - You Don’t Know Lonely 132. Oh Wonder - Ultralife 133. Radiohead - OKNOTOK 134. Waxahatchee - Out in the Storm 135. U2 (live Vancouver) 136. Japanese Breakfast - Soft Sounds from Another Planet 137. DJ Shadow - The Mountain Will Fall 138. Vera Blue - Perennial 139. Lana Del Rey - Lust for Life 140. Nine Inch Nails - Add Violence ep * 141. Singles soundtrack deluxe 142. Arcade Fire - Everything Now 143. Boris - Dear 144. Perera Elsewhere - All of This 145. Manchester Orchestra - A Black Mile to the Surface 146. The Murlocs - Old Locomotive 147. Dan Sultan - Killer (fire under foot, kingdom) 148. Fountaineer - Greater City, Greater Love 149. Benjamin Gibbard - Bandwagonesque 150. Juanita Stein - America 151. Saskwatch - Manual Override 152. Kid Koala with Emiliana Torrini - Music to Draw To: Satellite 153. David Rawlings - Poor David’s Almanac 154. Damian Cowell's Disco Machine - Get Yer Dag On! 155. Jen cloher - s/t 156. Queens of the Stone Age - Villains * 157. Paul Kelly - Life is Fine I smell trouble 158. Davey Lane - I’m Gonna Burn Out Bright 159. Mogwai - Every Country’s Sun 160. Alvvays - Antisocialites 161. Ben Frost - The Centre Cannot Hold 162. Grizzly Bear - Painted Ruins 163. Iron and Wine - Beast Epic call it dreaming 164. Gang of Youths - Go Farther in Lightness 165. Gold Class - Drum 166. King Gizzard and Mild High Club - Sketches of Brunswick East 167. Steven Wilson - To the Bone 168. The Preatures - Girlhood 169. Filthy Friends - Invitation 170. The War on Drugs - A Deeper Understanding 171. Chris Forsyth and the Solar Motel - Dreaming in the Non-Dream 172. LCD Soundsystem - American Dream 173. Cloud Control - Zone rainbow city 174. Liars - TFCF 175. Neil Finn - Out of Silence 176. Deerhoof - Mountain Moves 177. Jake Bugg - hearts That Strain 178. Gordi - Reservoir 179. Meg Mac - Low Blows 180. The National - Sleep Well Beast 181. Beaches - Second of Spring 182. Chad Vangaalen - Light Information 183. Nothing But Thieves - 184. Foo Fighters - Concrete and Gold 185. Tori Amos - Native Invader 186. The Belligerents - Science Fiction (Sorry to Say) 187. Rostam - Half-Light 188. Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions - Until the Hunter 189. Ariel Pink - Dedicated to Bobby Jameson 190. Davey Lane - Back/Here/Forward 191. Lisa Mitchell - When they Play That Song ep 192. Tired Lion - Dumb Days 193. Mastodon - Cold Dark Place ep 194. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Luciferian Towers 195. Lee Ronaldo - Electric Trim 196. Neil Young - Hitchhiker 197. The Killers - Wonderful Wonderful 198. Hyla - Osaka 199. Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross - The Vietnam War 200. Moses Sumney - Aromanticism 201. British India - Forgetting the Future 202. Matt Cameron - Cavedweller 203. Hammock - Mysterium 204. Ben Frost - Threshold of Faith 205. Philip Selway - Let Me Go 206. Prophets of Rage - s/t 207. Phoebe Bridgers - Starnger in the Alps 208. Pearl Jam - Let’s Play Two 209. Wolf Alice - Visions of a Life 210. Torres - Three Futures 211. Ibeyi - Ash 212. Wolf Parade - Cry Cry Cry 213. Liam Gallagher - As You Were 214. Andrew Bird - Echolocations: River 215. Bladerunner 2049 soundtrack 216. The Horrors - V 217. St Vincent - Masseduction 218. Kurt Vile & Courtney Barnett - A Lotta Sea Lice 219. Beck - Colors 220. Robert Plant - Carry Fire 221. Alex Lahey - I Love You Like a Brother 222. Destroyer - Ken. 223. William Patrick Corgan - wpc 224. Custard - The Common Touch 225. Love Migrate - Somewhere, Over the Mangroves 226. Protomartyr - Relatives in Descent 227. Polish Club - Alright Already 228. Ecca Vandal - s/t 229. Grooms - Infinity Caller 230. Lean Year - s/t 231. Kevin Devine - Instigator 232. King Krule - The Ooz 233. Portico Quartet - Art in the Age of Automation 234. Weezer - Pacific Daydream 235. Hans Zimmer et al (Blue Planet ll soundtrack) 236. Fever Ray - Plunge 237. Julien Baker - Turn Out the Lights 238. Jim Lawrie - Slacker of the Year 239. REM - Automatic for the People (25th Anniversary) 240. Angel Olsen - Phases 241. Stranger Things 2 (Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein) 242. Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats - Live at Red Rocks 243. Tame Impala - Currents (deluxe) 244. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - Polygondwanaland 245. Sharon Jones - Soul of a Woman 246. Bjork - Utopia * 247. Aldous Harding - Party 248. David Gilmour - Live at Pompeii 249. Queen - News of the World (deluxe) 250. Stella Donnelly - Thrush Metal ep 251. U2 - Songs of Experience 252. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds - Who Built the Moon? 253. Taylor Swift - Reputation 254. Kamasi Washington - Harmony of Difference 255. Wand - Plum 256. Weaves - Wide Open 257. Mavis Staples - If All I Was Was Black 258. Neil Young and Promise of the Real - The Visitor 259. Pony Face - Deja Vu 260. The Orbweavers - Deep Leads

Stray tracks: Hans Zimmer & Radiohead Lisa Hannigan - Oh! You Pretty Things Jarvis Cocker & Chilli Gonzalez Jack Whiter Glen Hansard (2) John Butler Trio Ryan Adams - back in your head Brian Eno & Kevin Shields Tropical Fuck Storm (2)

2016 catchups:

Ryley Walker & Charles Rumback Alex Isenberg Lisa Hannigan Margaret Glaspy Catfish and the Bottlemen Badbadnotgood 1 Mile North Chris Forsyth Peep Tempel Tash Sultana Rogue Wave Damien Jurado Love Migrate - Luke Howard Kaleo

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