eleven.

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warnings: swearing (as usual), ANGST (a lot), some fighting, drinking, drugs, rude ass reporters, p**l pr*nt*r

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warnings: swearing (as usual), ANGST (a lot), some fighting, drinking, drugs, rude ass reporters, p**l pr*nt*r

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"We're a rock and roll band. We don't do disco."

"It's not disco," John replied, before Brian asked, "Then what is it?"

John shrugged, "It's Queen."

"So sorry, my darlings!" You shouted into the microphone, everyone's ears perking up, "Lost all track!"

As Roger stood up from his seat, "You fired Reid without consulting us," He glared at you through the glass window, you simply just sending a smirk his way before heading over inside, Paul patting your shoulder.

"You don't make decisions for the band!" Roger chastised, before Brian tried to calm him down, "Hey."

You walked through the door with both hands full with a beer bottle and a cigarette, "Well, I'm terribly sorry dear. It's done."

"Besides..." You walked over to Miami sitting by the table beside the drum risers, "Miami will manage us," You put out your cigarette on the ashtray, Miami letting out nervous chuckles, "Won't you darling?"

"Erm...I'll think about it," Miami replied.

You turned to face Brian and Roger before Brian asked, "Are you high again?"

"Well down, Columbo."

"You need to slow down, (Y/N)."

"Oh, don't be such a bore, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Brian fired back before John sighed and stood up, "I don't care if you're shit-faced," He handed you the lyrics, "As long as you can sing."

Handing the other two the papers, Roger complained, "No, John. I don't want to play it."

"Then I'm all for it," You said, looking through the paper.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm tired of the bloody anthems. I want the energy in the clubs, the bodies, I want to make people move."

"You mean disco?" Brian asked.

Paul chimed in, "Why not?"

Brian turned to glare at the so-called manager, "Do you mind pissing off? This is a band discussion."

"Drum loops? Synthesizers?" Roger chided, "It's not us, it's not Queen!"

"Queen is whatever I say it is!" You yelled back at him.

Brian shook and head and let out a scoff while Roger walked up to you, "Well, you can play your own bloody drums, then."

You just took the paper and pushed it hard into Roger's face, making him move backwards.

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