Brian May - Blog Posts
John Richard Deacon is the softest human being I’ve ever seen. This video is so precious, I want to cry
Look at those hands
In life, I’m Joe Mazzello
FRED YOU LOOK AMAZING HONEY
Guys I can’t honestly thank you enough. I don’t even know why this many people follow me, but thanks. Really. Feel free to ask me something, i really want to answer
Look at this man.
LOOK AT THIS FUCXIN MAN. HE CANNOT BE REAL
They look so cozy here, my poor mortal heart
LOOK AT THOSE LEGS. THOSE PERFECT FUCKIN LEGS. I WANNA DIE
Thank you so much everyone!! I don’t even know why anyone follows me, cause I’m the most noring person on earth. But anyway, thank you very much!!!
They’re so-
I don’t even know anymore
ALL WE HEAR IS RADIO GA GA
👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👊🏻
RADIO GOO GOO
👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👊🏻
RADIO GA GA
👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👊🏻
ALL WE HEAR IS RADIO GA GA
👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👊🏻
RADIO BLAAH BLAAAH
👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👊🏻
RADIO WHAT'S NEWWW?
This is one of the best parts of music history and nobody can convince me the opposite. Thanks for coming to my TED talk
I love my dads
John looks so cute here, what the fuck
Listening to this, while walking to school is the best thing i've ever tried. Everyone should do it.
I feel really badass
ITS A METAPHOR
Cc: found it on instagram
album moodboards - 2/???
Queen - A Night at the Opera (1975)
Brian May
I just watched Bohemian Rhapsody
...
All I'm saying is that you should watch it too
...
It was bloody fantastic
sweetheart hand pt. 2 // brian may
summary: a continuation of sweetheart hand. after the party, the (art) studio.
a/n: mostly fluff and then some smut. sorry for the delay! if tumblr hasn’t sorted out their tagging shit by now…… hm. this is around 5,400 words. i was thinking about this twombly work when i was describing the painting. also can you believe this image cause i can’t.
there’s something terrifying and invigorating in equal measure about a blank canvas. you stare the expanse of white down determinedly, crossing your arms and trying to conjure something up in your mind’s eye. it’s a beast of a thing, five feet tall and six feet wide, and anything you try to visualise comes up short. fuck it. you’ve been avoiding it for weeks. you’ll just have to dive in.
you’ve hit almost every mark of your normal afternoon pre-painting routine - the curtains are thrown back to let the natural light in, you’ve made yourself a strong cup of tea and there’s a note on the door in case anyone decides to call around. the only thing left is to take the phone off the hook. it’s an old bakelite monster with a rotary dial - you could afford to replace it, but you’re fond of its look. plus, the horrible, grating sound of its ring is reason alone to stop it from disturbing your painting.
well. not that you normally have any hesitations about it. you haven’t done anything so undignified as waiting around for someone to call since you were a teenager.
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Daffodils (18+)
Brian May x Fem!Reader
Summary: Brian’s astrophysics lectures are made a bit more bearable when he meets a yellow loving girl who needs his help with her equations. As their relationship blossoms, he thinks that she reminds him of daffodils; they come up first, brightening up anyone’s long winter, like she did his.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ (seriously yo), male & female receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, a liiiiiittle bit of jealousy, maybe some historical inaccuracy
Word Count: 8264
The sun is tucked away behind thick storm clouds when Brian wakes, eyes half shut and his hair a mess of slept-on curls. His bones click as he shifts his legs over the side of his bed, throat scratchy and sore when he coughs. Jesus. He strains his eyes in the dim morning light to glance at his watch on the nightstand–7:32 am. That meant class in an hour. Or, class in 58 minutes.
Gigging on a weeknight meant he wasn’t in bed until gone 4:00, but that didn’t include the time he spent coming down from his adrenaline high, which meant a book was held in his hands until at least 5:00. So, that didn’t leave him much time for rest, and if he wanted to get to class on time he needed to be out of his flat in half an hour.
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