#11 pm gender thoughts word vomit

[justmelookingbackatme]

I have spent my life trying, and largely failing, to fit in with a gender. Any gender. Any group of people around me, I have tried to be one of them, one of their gender. And I've failed.

When I was very young, I didn't fit in with boys because they were boys. And I was a girl. I didn't understand what that meant, not really, but I knew it was supposed to be very important. So I was fine with that. I didn't need to be one of the boys! I could make friends with all the girls!

I could not make friends with all the girls.

I tried to pretend I was no different from them, but that didn't go so well. It wasn't even because I was too masculine. I was just too weird. I didn't know when I should talk and when I should be quiet, I depended on rules and structure far too much for any classmate to tolerate me, my interests were stupid, I didn't know social rules that everyone else had apparently been taught.

So, the girls of my childhood never really considered me to be one of them, but that wasn't for my lack of trying. I tried so damn hard. They liked dresses, so I liked dresses. Dressing like them was the closest I could come to being like them. I would lie and say I understood what everyone else was talking about, even when I didn't. My sort-of-friends, those who didn't mind me quite so much, would suggest raiding our mothers' makeup and trying it on, and I would go with it.

And then I stopped trying, because I found a new gender expression where I fit. The Girls Who Weren't Feminine. The other weirdos, the undiagnosed neurodivergent kids, the girls who liked sports too much to be "girly." I was one of them. I was just like them. I belonged.

Sort of. Except for the part where my interests were made fun of, or they threatened to stop being my friend because I said the wrong thing, or I spent my recess running back and forth to resolve a petty argument my friends were having.

It was the best option I had.

And then we hit middle school, and The Girls Who Weren't Feminine grew out of their "not like other girls" phase. They liked social media. (I didn't have a phone.) They liked makeup. (The one time I wore it for real, not painted sloppily by a seven year old, I was told I looked like a completely different person. I did look like a completely different person. I didn't like that.) They liked boys. (I was slowly, slowly realizing that I did not like boys.)

It wasn't just my friend group that I felt I no longer belonged in. I felt that way around all my female peers. They wanted bigger boobs and I wished mine would disappear. They wanted their body to look like an hourglass, and I felt sick every time I saw my own curves. They were eagerly awaiting when they might get their period, and mine was my own personal hell.

And locker rooms. Girls' fucking locker rooms. I felt like an outsider to womanhood more than I ever had before when changing for PE. I could never shake the thought that I was an intruder, that I was invading their space. And if the girls there knew what I knew, that I was attracted to girls, they would see me as a creep.

No, I didn't fit in with girls very well when I was in middle school.

When my best friend came out as nonbinary, it slowly led to my realization that I might not be cis either. As I dipped my toe into the waters of gender experimentation, I tried to categorize myself as nonbinary.

I didn't consider that I might be a boy. I thought I had to have always known. I thought I couldn't be a boy if I sometimes, sort of, wanted to stay a girl too.

So I tried to be feminine-aligned nonbinary, demigirl, girlflux, and none of them worked. I knew I couldn't be a cis girl, that my gender couldn't be confined to that, but nonbinary was an incredibly uncomfortable identity for me. I hated they/them pronouns. I hated calling myself a term like "enby." I hated placing myself outside of male and female entirely, or proclaiming myself genderless.

I still tried, because I knew I wasn't a girl, and I didn't think I was a boy, so I must be nonbinary. Even if I didn't use the term. I tried genderqueer, a term so vague it was easy to fit, but I didn't understand myself and no one else understood me. I wasn't like my other nonbinary friends; I didn't change my name to something neutral, I didn't use they/them, I didn't bind, I didn't dye my hair or "dress nonbinary," whatever that meant.

They were the closest thing I had to a home, but that wasn't very close.

Even as I've explored a masculine gender, I've never felt like I fit in with men. Even trans men. I don't think they see me as one of them; how can I be a man if I use he and she pronouns? They think I am less of a man than them, if they think of me as a man at all.

I enter a men's bathroom, and I think; I've gotten lucky so far, but is this going to be the time my luck runs out and I get clocked? I enter a woman's bathroom, and I think; Can they tell I'm not a woman like them? Am I going to get yelled at for invading their space? I walk the halls to the single unisex bathroom, and I think; Only the weirdos have to walk the length of the entire school just to use the bathroom in relative safety. There's nowhere for me to feel normal.

Feeling normal has started mattering less, as I've found people who don't need me to be like them in order for them to like me. I don't understand my friends who are girls, as they discuss femininity like it's a foreign language, but I'm grateful to have them. I may not relate to all of their experiences, but I'm happy to talk to my friends who are boys. My nonbinary friends and I have very different genders, but we'll support one another.

It's not the worst thing in the world, to never completely fit in with a group of people. But I do sometimes wish I could find a gender to call my home.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the BTHB: enemy turned caretaker with Villain whumpee and Hero caretaker ???

Thank you, your writing is amazing. Have a good day!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely comment! I hope you don't mind that I gave the characters genders as my brain cannot write with neutral ones today, but feel free to imagine the characters as you like.

If you want to send in an ask: here.

Downside to the River

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: beating, intensive description of broken bones (including broken leg, ribs, and jaw), blood, minor vomit, losing consciousness, bathing, enjoying hurting others

~

Maybe she went a little too far.

Maybe, it was a possibility.

Likely? No.

Unlikely? No.

Did she? Yes.

Now, the real question was... did she care?

In the heat of the moment, that trilogy of words wouldn't dare cross her fired-up mind.

But afterwards? After the deed was done? After she tucked him into bed with a warm blanket?

Yes, she cared. She cared and regretted it.

Let's go back in time for moment, shall we?

July 15, 11:23 PM:

Her fist struck something hard, her ears heard a crack, but her heart felt victory. Her other hand dove in, earning the same satisfying sensation.

"Knock it off, will you?" The villain below her spat, blood circling in the sticky saliva. "I get your point ma'am."

Hero didn't listen. She kicked, landing a near-stunning blow on Villain's chest. He wheezed, coughing and wincing, but he didn't get much time for recovery before another kick sent him hurdling to the ground. He laid there, winded and exhausted, calculating his injuries for greatest to least- he doubted Hero would hurt him further; after all, he was already down.

Yet the otherwise positive premonition failed him. Hero slammed both fists into his temple. Way to kick a man when he's already down, Villain groaned to himself just as stars erupted in his already dimming vision.

He brought himself clumsily to his arms, legs still reclining against the wooden floor. They were on a bridge in the woods, a place that young couples would go for dates on. Though it was more than obvious that wasn't the intention for the late night visit.

Hero pounced, a flying fist meeting his ribcage. Crack! Hero pulled back for moment to allow Villain to collapse on the ground, grunting and moaning weakly, before hopping to her feet and jumping on his side.

"I get your point," Villain growled through clenched teeth.

"I doubt that," Hero retorted, and stomped on Villain's outstretched hand.

"Nngh," Villain replied, pulling in his hand instinctively, but Hero didn't allow for that form of comfort. She placed her shoe onto his wrist and pinned it down.

"Shut up, will you?"

Crrreeeeaaaakkkk

Hero stood up straighter, giving Villain minimal, but relief nonetheless. When the eerie sound didn't come again, she continued her pin of victory.

Creeeeaaakkkk

Hero looked around again, shrugged, but stopped. There was something different in the air.

It was raining.

Not just a drizzle, but a downpour.

Hero looked over the side of the bridge to see raging waters hitting the wooden beams.

Oh crap.

It was a flash flood.

Hero pushed herself away from Villain and bounded to shore. She jumped over pools of mud and water, leaped over fallen branches, and slid over slick slides of leaves.

Before sprinting back home, Hero took a glance over her shoulder at Villain who was struggling to get back on his feet. For a moment, a pure second of temptation, Hero considered going to save him.

No, she told herself, silently shaming herself for those types of thoughts. He is a monster. He brought this upon himself.

Hero looked up again to see the bridge collapse. Villain's arms and legs gave out as a beam smacked into his back, right by the shoulder blades. She didn't have to hear his holler to know the horrible sound that escaped his bloody lips.

As he fell, obviously dazed and disoriented, his skull smashed into a stray piece of wood and he was enveloped by the muddy waves.

July 16, 12:18 AM:

Hero laid upon her bed, aimlessly wrapping a strand of her hair around her index finger, making knots and toying with the invention. Her mind was wandering. Was he dead? Or dying? Was he alone and cold? Or was he not even awake, only his body awaiting inevitable death?

Hero looked out the window and into the dark sky beyond. The consistent tapping on her window told her that it was indeed still raining- pretty heavily at that. But the rain wasn't her concern.

"He is cold," she whispered silently to herself, shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing off her forearms.

She tried to concentrate on her Game of Hair-Knots, but her restless legs walked themselves to the window, her inquisitive eyes looking outside.

Where was he?

She forced herself back to her bed and plopped back onto the comfortable cushioning. She laid her head against the comforter. Should go back out there...

No. She aimed to defeat Villain that night. The task was over, mission finished.

She didn't defeat Villain. The storm did. The intoxicating flash flood that more than definitely was making Villain suffer with dreadful hypothermia.

Save him.

But he is better dead.

It's not right.

I'm saving the world.

You're saving yourself. Go!

Hero rolled onto her back, groaned, and ran down the stairs. She threw on a jacket, grabbed a flashlight and trotted through the booming thunderstorm.

July 16, 12:56:

"Villain!" Hero screamed over the gusts of bellowing winds. She waved her flashlight around wildly. "Villain!"

She was following the river. He had to have turned up somewhere. She shuddered thinking of the waterfall not to faraway from where she was.

It was too crazy of one, but if he fell...

Hero didn't want to think of the "what ifs".

After a few more minutes of looking, she came upon said fall of water. Heart lurching, Hero madly searched around it, desperate to find him before the drop off.

He wasn't anywhere in sight.

Hero ran down the hill that caged the powerful waves up. She tripped over sticks and branches, and even fell a couple times, but kept going.

She had to find him.

And that she did.

His body was laying haphazardly on a rock, completely limp and seemingly unresponsive.

"Villain!" Hero yelled and crouched next to the injured person. Shining the light over his wet face, she could see all the bruises she left, the odd angle his jaw was in, and the smeared trace of blood on his temple where he hit his head earlier.

She let the light wander over the rest of his drenched, and nauseatingly bloody, body. A large wooden beam rested on his leg. His leg, in question, was sticking up on the other side, bent inward with blood staining the pale material of his jeans.

Hero shot straight up to look closer at his leg. If she moved it, she knew it would upset his injuries even further unless, of course, she woke Villain up.

"Hey," Hero tapped Villain's cheek until unfocused eyes open. "Wake up," she whispered.

Villain took a moment to get his bearings, but the moment he did, he screamed. "Hurts, hurts so much," he sobbed. Hero kept her hands rested on his shoulder until he shook them off.

"Get your hands off of me," he growled, glaring at Hero.

She didn't blame him.

But she did ignore him.

"You are trapped under that beam," she informed the villain, pointing to the heavy board that laid upon his lower body. Villain's gaze, still full of hatred, followed her finger.

"I have to lift it. The second I do, drag yourself away. Got it?"

Villain seemed to realize how dire his situation was for he nodded his head. Hero gave an encouraging smile and proceeded to lift the beam.

"Wait," Villain said. "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

Villain noticeably gulped and furrowed his brow.

Hero lined up to the board and wrapped her arms around the slimy material. "Ready? On the count of three. One... two... three..."

Hero lifted while Villain pulled himself to his feet- or foot.

The wood slipped from her hands. Even though her muscles trembled from lifting the beam- thanks to the blessing of adrenaline- she looked at Villain, who was swaying on his foot.

Then she looked down, at his leg.

The bone was popped out of his pants, white and ragged, with cracks running downwards. Hero felt bile rise up her throat, but the nauseating feeling was quickly succumbed when she noticed Villain's eyes roll backwards.

"Crap!" She exclaimed and caught Villain as he collapsed into her arms. His head lolled on her shoulder, body the human equivalent of a ragdoll.

July 16, 2:12 AM:

Hero dragged Villain into the bathroom and quickly got him out of his sodden clothes and wrapped in countless blankets. His lips were an unnatural shade of blue, fingertips waxen in yellow candlewax.

"C'mon bud," Hero murmured, rubbing his wrists to stimulate warm blood flow. She periodically checked hie temperature and smiled as it increased by the decimal.

His hair was matted in dirt and blood- he needed that cleaned immediately before it got into any open wounds. Hero found so many, so many little cuts and deep gashes that she lost count. He would need stitches, antibiotics...

His leg. Surgery was a definite.

But bringing him to a hospital would be suicide for him.

But wasn't I the one who just wanted him dead? The one who left him for dead?

Hero shook her head. That train of thought wouldn't help the situation.

The moment his body temperature was raised enough to safetly bathe him without the risk of even more pain due to the sudden change from cold to hot, Hero filled the tub with warm, vanilla scented water, and lowered him gently into it. She took the showerhead and tenderly rinsed out his hair, picking out hardened bits of mud and dried blood.

He slept through her motherly care, sometimes groaning, but Hero was quick to soothe him.

The next task in cleaning him was shampooing his hair. She scrubbed her coconut scented soap into his hair, then rinsed, dipping his head back to avoid getting it into his eyes.

When the bath was done, Hero wrapped him in a thick bathrobe, tied the front into a bow and carried him to her room where she wrapped a blanket around his sleeping frame.

The last thing Hero did before sitting in a nearby chair was call her friend.

"Caretaker? I kinda have a situation here."

[glubbity]

i was tagged by @bacchaebabe​ a few days ago, so i’m gonna do one of these get to know me things!

[instructions: tag ten followers you’d like to get to know better.] i hereby tag you ALL because i would love to hear your stories.

gender: i define myself as nonbinary! i don’t know really what Specific term i am because i don’t really vibe with any of them, and i quite like how nonbinary sounds as an umbrella term. i’m fine with whatever pronouns too! most people use she/her for me because i’m pretty feminine and i love that. call me whatever you want though as long as you’re respectful about it!!

star sign: i am a gemini... if this is news to you, you must be new here. my birthday is june 13th, 2003! fun fact: i was born on friday the thirteenth-- spooky!

height: i’m 5′6′’ and very bitter about it. when i was first born, the doctors projected that i would be, quote, “a very tall girl” and this SEEMED to be the case for most of my childhood. i was taller than most of the boys from elementary to middle school. and then highschool happened and i stopped growing definitively. to add salt to the wound, self described ‘feral goth’ bacchaebabe says 5′6′’ is the most boring height. 

sexuality: i’m bi! i’m currently dating a boy, and surprisingly today was our eighth month together... time flies ammirite ladies

hogwarts house: this question made me hold back my urge to projectile vomit but. slytherin according to the official pottermore results!

favorite animal: my favorites are jellyfish! i love LOVE love them-- their biology is so interesting to me. how can a literal blob be so full of mystique? sometimes when i read at night i put this video on in the background for my Ambient Jellyfish Noise fill

average hours of sleep: when school was in session, i used to wake up at 5:15 AM every day (i know i’m on crack) and would usually fall asleep around 11:30-12:30 PM at the absolute latest? so Usually five hours! my sleep schedule now is more like wake up at 7:15 and go to bed from 12:30-2:00 hehe

current time: 11:04 PM! california babey

dogs or cats?: i like both, but i’m slightly more partial to cats. i have a dog named walter and a cat named carrie, but her nickname is maow because that’s the sound she makes. i love them both to death.

number of blankets you sleep with?: i sleep with one sheet and one blanket, and a smaller throw blanket for my cat to lay on! it’s starting to get hotter very rapidly so i might ditch the sheet soon x____x

dream job?: i’d like to work in the animation industry in some sort of storytelling role! maybe someone who helps write the plots or better develops character or environmental stuff? my mind jumps to ‘character designer,’ but i feel like i’d have a lot more fun being the nitpicky reviser type rather than a concept artist. if i wasn’t already married to animation, then i’d 10008858065% be a journalist!

when i created this blog: i officially remade @glubbity-moved​ in 2019, so 2019! glubbity as a Laci Brand has been around since 2015 though.

follower count: on my old blog i had over 2000+, but on this humbler remake i have a solid 390. i’m not too concerned on that number as long as i have my mutuals honestly. xoxo

why i created this blog: i officially moved from middle school instagram to tumblr because it seemed more of my scene in seventh grade :”)

how i came up with my url: this is so embarrassing but. i was a homestuck fan and i thought feferi was cute, and i loved her fish puns. the word ‘glub’ stuck out to me, and i just kinda tacked on the ‘bity’ because it felt nice to say in conjunction with that. thus, glubbity! when i was younger, i always forgot if my url had two b’s or two t’s... like glubitty. very silly

what do you love about yourself? (can’t be something you do for others): personally, i feel like i have an aura of Extrovert that makes it very easy for me to talk to people. sometimes being boldly outspoken about minor or trivial things is the most beneficial way of getting to know someone. i also have a very People Focused memory, and will almost always remember your name, your schedule and/or other minute details that you told me three weeks ago. i just like Knowing people, it’s fun.

what kept you going through middle school? if it wasn’t hard, what was it like?: middle school was the roughest period of my life for a variety of reasons, and i relied heavily on tumblr as an outlet for that time period. this is cringe but i was into south park, eddsworld, danganronpa and steven universe as a middleschooler. i also played animal crossing new leaf and pokemon to keep me grounded-- i even had an animal crossing ask blog for rosie the cat! finally, i had art to focus on, and this is where my artistic destination really defined itself. middle school still sucked balls but it made me into who i am today!

if you end up doing this, PLEASE tag me and i will read it!!! i would love to get to know a lot of you better. thanks for tuning in! <3

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

A Night At The Opera-Chapter 3

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May x reader/ John Deacon x reader

TW: brian being possessive of whats not his, adam CONTINUES TO BE A DICK, blood, sickness, vomit, swearing

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

Series: A Night At The Opera

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

By the time morning broke a few hours later, (Y/N) had learnt the entire setlist for Queen. Brian was an incredible teacher, more so than she admittedly thought he would be, and had been extremely patient as she fumbled with the fretboard and the strings. But he was hesitant to get too close to her after she had pulled his mask off. Strangely, (Y/N) had started to feel bad about it, the guilt monster clawing at her insides. Brian had tried his very best to forgive and forget the situation, but how could he? That mask was his shelter from the outside world. His shield from the venomous words of humankind. And she'd yanked it off, without a second thought of how exposing it would be for him. How hurtful. How terrifying it was. But despite it all, he still agreed to teach her, and teach her he did. Her shaky, insecure playing had slowly ebbed into something more confident, even if she didn't necessarily feel that way herself. After Brian's pushing and prodding, her fingers slowly started to glide along the fretboard, instead of stopping and starting as they had before. Her playing was pure, in tune and practically perfect in all ways it could be. Well, for a beginner, that is. To say he was impressed with the techie was an understatement, and he knew that she was already miles and leaps ahead of Adam. Brian had to get the others to see it. To see how incredible she was compared to that repulsive gargoyle with a much too heavy hand. If he could find a way for Freddie to see her in action. While she ran through the songs and covers that Queen performed on stage, Brian flicked through his brain for ideas, when it struck him. Adam wouldn't go down without a fight, he knew that much. So, maybe Brian would have to make him.

"Bri?" (Y/N)'s gentle voice pulled him from his train of thought, wordlessly glancing up at her. She gave him a wide smile "What was that song you were playing earlier? On the stage?"

"Just something I wrote myself, my dear. Nothing interesting, I'm afraid," Brian chuckled, his hair bobbing as he strolled over to her, still holding his Red Special. She looked up at him, admiration shining in her eyes.

"Can you play it for me?" She requested, shyly, instantly looking down afterwards, slightly embarrassed by her request, however, Brian just shot her a soft smile, even though she couldn't quite see it, she could make out the squinting of his eyes. He nudged her over and sat beside her, taking his guitar from her softly. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, causing a blush to rise to (Y/N)'s cheeks. Brian positioned his Red Special before placing his fingers onto the strings and beginning to strum. His technique was so much better than hers, and she couldn't help but watch him in wonder, his fingers dancing across the fretboard like it was nothing. But the song lasted a few minutes before coming to a close, much sooner than she would've liked herself.

"It's been finished for a while. I've tried placing lyrics to it but nothing I write seems to quite work with it, especially with that solo," Brian confessed, frustration lacing his words. (Y/N) pondered for a second, running over the tune in her before looking back to the curly-haired man.

"I think I might have just the thing. But they're on a piece of paper in Deaks' dressing room," She offered timidly, ducking her head as Brian tilted his head to look at her.

"Fantastic, you can bring them tomorrow. Or later tonight, I should probably say," (Y/N) face contorted in confusion at his response, watching as he passed her the Red Special back and got up from the couch that she found had been hidden behind one of the black veils.

"L-Later?" She asked, but Brian continued forward, towards his paper theatre and waxwork figures. He took the Adam shaped one and snapped it in half, looking down at it in disgust. Slowly, (Y/N) got up, propping the Red Special against the couch, and approached him while his back was still turned. He was tense and she was worried for him.

And for herself.

"Yes, unless my company has been so appalling that you no longer wish to return, "Brian sent an arched eyebrow in her direction, but stopped abruptly, breath hitching in his throat at how close she had gotten to him. So close that she could feel her breath on his face.

Oh, how he missed breathing. A part of him wished he hadn't taken it for granted. The warmth of her breath sent him reeling, practically giving her heart eyes. Brian couldn't drag his eyes away, and neither could (Y/N). He spotted a ghost of a smile on her lips and knew his heart would be pounding now. If it could. Against his will, his eyes dragged down to her lips quickly. Almost impossible to pull them away. Her lips looked so warm and inviting. But he snapped back to his senses and looked over to the boat, occasionally rocking in the water. (Y/N) noticed the way he seemed to back away suddenly and frowned a little. She couldn't place what he was thinking. He had placed a barrier beyond his orbs. Obstructed anyone from being able to tell how he felt. She couldn't exactly say that she blamed him. The behaviour he exhibited when she pulled the mask off told her all she needed to know. The girl only wished that she was able to pull all the pain, that he had maintained over the years, away. But he would never let her close enough to heal him, she understood that.

"Your company is far from appalling," Was all (Y/N) could utter, entranced by Brian, like a child meeting their favourite superhero.  Brian glanced down at her, smiling sweetly, but instantly regretted it and looked away again. He couldn't afford to get lost in her eyes. He had to take her back. He had to.

"Come, your friends and that idiot will arrive soon. Wouldn't want them thinking something dreadful had happened to you, now would we?" Brian's words were perfectly innocent but the hungry look he'd given her last time they'd met haunted her, and caused a shiver to run up her spine. Once again feeling small. Brian realised her sudden uncomfortableness and motioned to the boat, still fastened to the wooden peg. Reluctantly, (Y/N) walked over to the boat and climbed into it, sitting down silently as Brian unhooked the rope. He waded through the water, though it barely reached his knees,  and clambered into the vessel. And without another word, he cruised off, the metal gating opening with a loud rhythmic clanging.

When (Y/N) arrived back in the theatre, it was nearing 6 AM. The boys would be there at 11, knowing how Roger tended to oversleep and how Freddie would fret over his appearance for at least an hour. Deaky would fuss over everything, like a dad about to go on holiday, and Adam, well, fuck knows what Adam did that made him so late. He probably wouldn't arrive until 2 PM, 1, if they were lucky. She wandered around the theatre, eyeing the empty seats, knowing they'd be almost full later. Because, despite Adam's tasteless playing, Freddie's intriguing stage persona pulled everyone back. Roger's charming playing and golden locks. Deaky's bopping and dancing on stage. They triumphed over everything.  

As she looked around, she allowed herself to look up at box five. Something told her that he'd be standing there tonight. What would Deaky say if he found out? He would be furious. No, he wouldn't. Deaky never got mad. Not at her. He was too gentle for that.  He would be devastated. A creak from behind her caused (Y/N) spin around, terribly paranoid all of a sudden. Lucille observed her with curious eyes, a small, slightly guilty, glint in them.

"Good morning, I wasn't expecting you here so early," Something in the way Lucille spoke made it very clear that she was very aware of why she was there so early. She knew more about the theatre ghost than she let on.

"Oh-oh yeah I  just needed to set some stuff up, so I came early. Y'know, to avoid Adam's shouting," (Y/N) attempted to lie, but the way she fiddled with her fingers and glanced around anxiously gave her away.  Lucille raised an eyebrow at her response before silently brushing past her, going to check one of the wires, tucking it out of the way of the stage. Something (Y/N) had failed to notice.

"You must tread carefully. He sees everything and knows everything that happens in this place," Lucille stated as she taped the wire back. (Y/N)'s head whipped around to look at the older woman, eyes narrowed slightly.

"How do you know that? How do you know him?" She asked, almost demanding Lucille for an answer, walking as close to her as possible. Lucille gave her no response, instead, waltzing over to (Y/N), who took two steps back.

"Because I've seen this before. I know what he's like, you don't. As much as you think you do, you don't, I assure you of that," Lucille replied sharply, staring down at her. Without another word, (Y/N) nodded, eyes wide and fearful, and hiked back to the backstage area. The girl took comfort in Deaky's dressing room, curling up on the couch. It was only then that she realised how drained she was, eyes slowly slipping shut. But she hardly slept, haunted by the thought of the theatre ghost.

"Adam? Is everything alright?" (Y/N) knocked lightly on the bathroom door. All she heard was a groan from behind the door. "Can I come in?"

The door clicked, unlocking, and the girl slowly pushed the door open. Adam was sat beside the toilet, eyes sunken and skin pale. Reluctantly, she placed the back of her hand to Adam's forehead. Fuck, he was burning up. Immediately, (Y/N) rushed back to Roger's dressing room, grabbing one of the hand towels he kept in there, to mop his sweat after a show. She sprinted back to the bathroom, running the rowel under cold water. The cold towel was pressed to his forehead, tenderly. Just as she pushed it against his forehead, he turned his head into the toilet bowl and spilt his insides. (Y/N) winced at the smell and noise, but wiped his mouth with some toilet paper when he came back up. Adam weakly flushed the toilet and turned back to her.

"Thanks, at least you have the common sense to help me," Adam groaned, and (Y/N) couldn't help but glare at him. God, he was a dick. He turned his face away, to look out of the opened bathroom door and her glare turned to widened eyes. On his neck, there were two small circular wounds, a tiny trail of blood leaking from them both. There was only one place they could have come from. And now she feared for her life.

"(Y/N), have you seen my- oh shit," Roger came stumbling to the doorway, dressed ready for the show. Fuck! The show! It was meant to take place in ten minutes! Roger raced inside, crouching beside the pair. "Adam, are you okay?"

"Of course, I'm fine, I'm fine. I'll be better when we've just gotten the show over and done with," Adam answered, but Roger scrunched his face up.

"There's no way you can play. You're too sick," (Y/N) interrupted, removing the cold cloth from his forehead for a moment to check if his temperature had gone up or down.

"I'm fine, you dumb bi-" Adam didn't get to finish his sentence before he was curling over the toilet again. Roger and (Y/N) exchanged a look behind his back. He wasn't playing. No matter how much he argued.

"Stay here, mate, we'll be back in a minute," Roger told Adam before grasping (Y/N)'s hand and pulling her out of the room and shutting the bathroom door behind him "We're gonna have to cancel the show."

"I know, he can't play. He'll vomit on stage," (Y/N) agreed, just as Freddie and Deaky wandered over, chatting animatedly.  However, the boys soon noticed the look of disappointment on Roger and (Y/N)'s face.

"Everything alright, dears?" Freddie asked hesitantly. Deaky looked at his girlfriend in concern, noticing the worry in her eyes.

"Adam can't play, he's sick," Roger sighed "We have to cancel the show."

"For fuck's sake! Please tell me that you're pulling my leg, Rog, please," Freddie exclaimed, running a hand through his hair, a deep frown finding its way to his face. Deaky swore under his breath, instantly beginning to pace.

"We wish we were," (Y/N) responded, shooting the band a sympathetic look.

"Is there anyone who can play the guitar just for tonight?" Deaky asked, racking his brain for other solutions, playing with the bottom of his shirt nervously.

"No, unless there's a ghost here that just so happens to know how to play the guitar," Roger snapped sarcastically, stress evident on his face. (Y/N) walked over to her boyfriend, who looked panicked and damn near tears. She took his hand into her own and brought it to her lips, kissing the skin fondly. He gave her a miniscule smile, kissing her cheek quickly.

"(Y/N) could play tonight, Mr Mercury," Lucille's voice made the group jump, startled, and turn to look at her. (Y/N)'s breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't play, she'd only just started! She may be a natural talent, but that didn't mean she could perform in front of tons of people!

"You play the guitar?" Roger's head tilted in confusion, as did the rest of the band. Deaky squeezed her hand.

"I mean, yeah, I do, but I-" (Y/N) started tensely, looking down to her shoes.

"Fantastic! You must play for us tonight, dear!" Freddie commanded, a gleeful smile returning. Roger grinned, silently cheering in delight.

"Fred-"

"(Y/N)," She looked up at the softness of Deaky's voice. His gentle touch on her skin "Please. We need you."

A sigh escaped (Y/N)'s lips and after a second of tense silence, she nodded, resulting in cheering from the three boys and a nod of approval from Lucille.

The lights on the stage dimmed, and applause echoed into the theatre. The boys made their way onstage with their instruments, but (Y/N) couldn't help but hold back, pausing before she ran on stage. The lights came on and everyone sat in the audience screamed, but there were confusing murmurs upon the lack of a guitarist. Deaky looked over at her and shot her a reassuring smile. So with a deep breath, she ran on stage, waving awkwardly at the audience. Immediately, (Y/N) was pulled into the music, playing the beginning chords of the first song on the setlist. Her fingers dashed along the fretboard, somehow managing to keep in time with the rest of the band. There was a surge of adrenaline that ran through her, filling her with joy and excitement and before she knew it, the song came to a close.

"Okay, my darlings, are you enjoying yourselves?" Freddie nearly yelled into the microphone and the audience cheered. "Good! We are too! However, I'd like to introduce you to a lovely friend of mine. Our guitarist for tonight! (Y/N) (L/N)"

The audience nearly deafened her with their screams. Everyone was clapping and hollering. (Y/N) grinned and bowed playfully, earning a laugh from the boys on stage, though she could barely hear them over the audience.

"Isn't she fabulous, lovies? I knew you'd love her, almost as much as we do!" Freddie chuckled "Alright, dears, time for a new little number, written by yours truly, liar!"

She barely realised that the show had finished until Roger was leading her off stage. As soon as everyone was out of sight, the boys laughed joyously, pulling her into a tight hug.

"(Y/N) you were brilliant!"

"Absolutely fantastic!"

"Perfect, my love!" (Y/N) could barely think over all of the compliments and the rush of performing. She swayed slightly, beginning to feel dizzy. That was until Adam wobbled over, looking dishevelled.

"She was fucking shit!" He mumbled, a bit of vomit hanging on the corner of his mouth. (Y/N) just shook her head, knowing she'd never be able to please him. Lucille made her way over, each step calculated and sure.

"Alright gentlemen, come on, let the girl have her space. (Y/N) I'd think it best if you were to be alone for a while. Just to catch your breath," Lucille suggested and the girl merely nodded, tired from her first show and, if Adam had anything to do with it, which he had to do with everything, her last. Roger suddenly tensed a little, giving Lucille a wary look.

"I'll come with you. I need to talk to her," Roger said, leaving no room for argument. Lucille only let out an annoyed breath of air, before beginning to walk to Deaky's dressing room. Where (Y/N) spent most of her time. When they reached the room, Lucille walked in with Roger and (Y/N) close behind. She picked up a rose, a black ribbon tied to it, and handed it to (Y/N).

"He's pleased with you," She whispered in the girl's ear, then leaving the room and closing it behind her.

"Something isn't right with that woman. I don't trust her," Roger grumbled, using his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. But (Y/N) wasn't listening. She only examined the flower in her hand, admiring the black silk tied to the green stem and blood red petals. "Are you alright, love? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"The crowd frightened me. But I loved it. I'm just exhausted- I need some time to myself, just like Lucille said," (Y/N) concluded, snapping back to her senses.

"Well, okay. Don't let the crowd's frighten you, (Y/N/N), they loved you, and I could tell you loved them. I'll leave you alone for a bit, yeah?" Roger asked gently, kissing her forehead.

"Yes, please, Rog. Thank you. I'll talk to you later," She smiled, tiredly, and Roger gave her forehead another kiss before walking out, closing the door. The rose spun between (Y/N)'s fingertips. And she found herself thinking of Brian. The more she thought about him, the more he scared her. He injured Adam, made him sick. Just so she could perform. He was sick. Twisted.

The lights flickered for a moment. Then they shut off.

And (Y/N) felt her blood run cold.

TAGS: OPEN

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