John and Roger, Hotel St.Moritz (today The Ritz-Carlton) in New York. May 1974.
A Roger Taylor imagine I came up with which should have a follow-up part coming soon.
Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac
Warning: Mentions of drug use.
Roger took one glance at the paper that the boys were passing around before throwing it back onto Miami’s desk where it had been when they had entered their manager’s office. Leaning back, the drummer slouched into the sofa as if his limbs had turned to jelly, his arms folding over his chest as he looked unimpressed as opposed to embarrassed.
He tried to ignore the looks he was getting from John and Brian but it wasn’t working. He could see the worry in John’s eyes out the corner of his vision and he could feel the confusion radiating off of the guitarist like heat waves. Roger didn’t want their sympathy, nor did he want their worry or concern because he didn’t need it. Freddie seemed to be the only one masking his emotions with a neutral expression that the drummer was thankful for.
“Why are you showing this? You think I don’t know what shit they write about me?” Roger barked, his head lifting so he could look at Miami, his eyes hidden by the raven black sunglasses sitting on his nose. He didn’t need their manager to show him the tabloids and front covers of every magazine to know that there were quite a few articles out this week about him. There was always one paper somewhere in London or America that was describing how the band was outlandish, stupid, risky or how one of them had done something wrong. It didn’t matter what their music sounded like, it mattered about their image that the world was trying to tarnish.
Roger knew he wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he wasn’t trying to be perfect and he wasn’t putting on a show for the media. He was himself and he had flaws, if they decide to pick on those flaws and show them to the world Roger couldn’t stop them, he simply found it petty and stupid to try and do that. People liked his music and went to his shows, they didn’t need to know his life to enjoy his music and if they didn’t like him then no one forced them to listen to the music he produced.
“There problems with this Roger and we can’t ignore them. One is that the media have a picture of you high on drugs, they have confirmation that you took drugs. I don’t care what you do in your own time but this was after a concert, if you do this then there are repercussions. People aren’t likely to go to a show where the act does heroin backstage.” Miami responded, his head cocked to the side as Roger looked down to his lap for a moment.
Roger didn’t know how the media found out because they had no paparazzi backstage at any of their concerts. If a show was recorded then it was by a Queen production, they listened when someone said to stop recording them and Roger took the drugs in his dressing room on his own. But someone had snapped a picture of him later on and it was quite clear he was higher than a kite. But he didn’t know how they knew what drugs he had taken. The band knew he was on drugs, (Y/n) knew he was on drugs, hell even Miami had known before now that Roger was doing something before now.
The boys and (Y/n) had tried to stop him. They tried to tell him that it wasn’t what he needed and the amount he was doing wasn’t going to be good for his health but Roger shrugged off their worries. It was his life and he had his reasons, they weren’t going to change his mind but it didn’t stop them from trying. Miami had ignored the problem until now because although the band respected him, he was never going to stop them from doing what they wanted.
“The other problem with this is that you’re doing drugs in public and whilst your working. You do them at the studio, you take them at concerts and now the media have proof of that. I know none of you care about your image but the fact is that other people do. The studio in London won’t take you if you do drugs Roger and we can’t have you high at a concert. You either get clean or you do drugs in your own time.”
The managers of the studios that the band used wouldn’t let them back in if they knew Roger was high when he was working and that was understandable. But people would be less likely to go to a concert if Roger was high and more to the point he wouldn’t be allowed on stage. He had to either get clean or get his drug use under control or else the band was going to have problems very soon. Now that the media had confirmation of this instead of simple rumours they could be more damaging than they had ever been before. People in any industry didn’t last much longer if they were found to be doing drugs or being abusive or having any brushes with the law.
In some instances it didn’t matter as much, such as parties. Drugs were a normality in high-end parties that Queen often attended so no cares were given if one or even all of them did drugs at a party. But this wasn’t about a party, it was about one of their own shows.
“Alright, it was one fucking concert anyway. I’ll curb it down, don’t worry.” Roger held his hands up in defence. They all knew he had never done that at a concert before but last week he had been desperate. He normally did drugs in his own time and certainly not when he was in public. sure, sometimes he would go out when he was rather stoned but he wouldn’t take his drugs where people could see or find out. He had his reasons to take them, he wasn’t doing this for fun or to intentionally ruin their image.
“Curb it down?” John repeated with a scoff, leaning forward in his chair so he could see the drummer who was sitting on the sofa next to Freddie. John raised his brows as he felt like screaming. Roger wasn’t even going to attempt to get clean, he was just going to ‘tone down’ his intake. “Rog, are you that addicted you can’t even try and clean yourself up?”
“No Deaky, I can’t. I’ve been on three different painkillers and the doctor won’t give me any higher meds in case 'I get addicted’. Heroin and the other shit I take is the only thing that works because it’s just like pain meds anyway. What do you want, me stoned every day or me calming it down because I can’t not take something for the pain.” Roger pushed himself up so he was sitting straight instead of slouching. Leaning over Freddie to see the bassist who looked the rather bad kind of surprised.
Roger had been in a car accident six months ago and it had damaged his left arm and his back. He had a nerve very close to his spine that had been damaged and was now making everyday hell for the drummer. The doctor had given Roger different prescriptions but they weren’t enough, the amounts weren’t even close to taking the pain away and being a drummer was demanding. He had to constantly twist and turn and move to clash the cymbals, the snare drums, the bass drum, every drum was scattered around him and he had to twist side to side to reach them all. His left arm was beginning to feel easier and better so that wasn’t the problem.
Someone at one of the parties to celebrate one of the shows going well had offered Roger some drugs and he needed something so badly to take away the pain. It wasn’t the drug that was addictive, it was the lack of pain. It was how much Roger felt like himself and how he felt able to walk and twist and even run with no pain because the drugs were dulling everything in his system. Heroin was very similar to certain high-class prescription drugs that were addictive, one of the reasons his doctor wouldn’t prescribe him them. The drugs worked for Roger, they took away the pain and let him have his life back.
Last week at the concert he had needed a high to stop his back from screaming. The concert was over two hours long and it took a lot of energy and movement, there was no way Roger could have gone through that with his back and nothing to take the edge off.
“You’re stoned now, aren’t you?”
Before Roger could even respond to that, Brian had reached over and taken the glasses from his eyes. Roger wasn’t shifting uncomfortably in pain, he wasn’t in tears from his back and he wasn’t sitting in one position like he sometimes would when the pain got worse. His eyes were red and his pupils were blown wide.
“You can’t carry on like this, let us help you.” Brian wouldn’t interfere if Roger was taking drugs now and again. If it was recreational it would be different, Roger would be taking them for fun or for the high because he liked it. If he took them every so often when his back pain got worse Brian might be able to understand because it would be a little easier on Roger. But he was taking something nearly every day because he wanted to be without pain and if he even tried to get clean he would be bombarded with pain that he didn’t want to face.
They could get him into rehab, they could take him to the doctor and start him detoxing so he could slowly get himself off the drugs and start taking something else as a replacement. They could try and get the doctor to give him stronger meds when he was off the heroin. The band would do anything and everything in their power to help Roger because he was their family and they couldn’t let him suffer. But taking the drugs was only going to make him even more dependant on them than he was now and that was never going to have a happy ending.
One day Roger would end up taking too much because either the pain was getting worse or he was relying on it and one small burst of pain from any injury would make him take more heroin. He could overdose and ruin his system or he could overdose and then go take more heroin and kill himself. Either way, Roger wasn’t on a path that would lead somewhere good and they needed to get him back on the right track.
“Can you fix this?”
Pushing himself to his feet, Roger tried to keep the tears out of his eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt before throwing it to the floor. Turning at an angle to each band member could look at his back.
All three of them stayed quiet, eyes blown wide as if they had suddenly become as high as Roger was right now. No one even dared to breathe as they looked at the damage. Roger had a scar littering the middle of his back directly over his spine from his operation after the car crash. But there was clear swelling along the middle and lower part of his spine which was beginning to bruise and he was bleeding under the surface of his skin. Not to mention the internal damage they couldn’t see like his nerve damage or the shredded muscle he had which had to have part of it removed.
Leaning around, Miami caught a glance of the problem which caused his expression to fall. His head shaking as he got to his feet, clearly going to leave the room either to give them space or talk to someone.
“Take him to hospital, that needs sorting now.” Miami pointed to the damage on Roger’s back before he left the room.
Managing to force his eyes open, Roger tilted his head up, locking his eyes onto (Y/n) who was standing at his side. Thousands of tears had flushed his features and were still continuing to well in his eyes that were red raw from the saltwater distorting his vision.
The boys had called (Y/n) before they had driven Roger down to the hospital to get checked over. That had been this morning and now it was seven in the evening. The swelling on Roger’s back was close to pressing on his spine and if that happened his damaged nerves would have added pressure and it could cause temporary or even permanent paralysis. But they couldn’t find out what was wrong whilst he was high on drugs, they needed his system to be clear so they knew what symptoms he was having and to start tests and scans of his spine.
The drugs were slowly wearing from his system but it wasn’t happening fast enough and it would take a few days to detox Roger in the normal way. He was already starting to go through the withdrawal symptoms. His body was spiking a fever, his head was splitting at the seams and the pain was back to his shaking system. He couldn’t lie on his back because it applied pressure to the swelling and made everything more unbearable for him.
An idea had come up that they could put Roger into an induced coma and flush his system so all drugs and medications would be swept out of his body in a matter of twelve hours. That was ideal in order to get Roger clean and start the tests to get him better but it came with risks. Roger could deteriorate in that time, his heart could get damaged or stop and it would be worse when he came back around. He wouldn’t be able to take heroin again because detoxing made his body less tolerable to the drug so a small amount could cause an overdose.
But Roger needed to do this.
Part of him wanted to do this, he wanted to get clean now and not have to go through the whole detoxing process and the withdrawal symptoms such as throwing up, fever, feeling drowsy and the unbearable pain. It would be so much easier and he could be clean like everyone wanted. But the other part of him knew that if he did this then he was condemning himself to pain. He would have to beg his doctor for a higher prescription and he would have to deal with the agony his back caused him because he couldn’t take heroin again without the risk of overdosing from a small amount.
“I can’t… i-it’s gonna hurt worse.” Roger whimpered the words as he felt himself beginning to shake. His hand tightened around (Y/n)’s as she bit down on her lip to stop herself from bursting into tears. This wasn’t his fault, he was in agony and he was still going to be in agony once this was over. There was no winning for Roger.
“Sshh, they’ll put you on morphine when you come back around after this. And the doctor will give you a prescription, they won’t let you leave if you’re not okay or are in too much pain, sweetheart.” (Y/n) bent down so she was level with Roger, her free hand brushing through his hair as she brought his knuckles to her lips. Trying her best to calm him down but nothing she could say would make this easier for Roger.
A choked sound resembling a morphed scream left Roger’s lips as his knees jolted, pushing up towards his stomach as he contorted his body into a C shape to try and take away the pain that was now shooting up his back. It was the raw pain he was first met with after the crash, the pain that the doctors had ignored and refused to treat with the higher meds that Roger clearly needed. Both his hands wrapped around one of (Y/n)’s to the point he was cutting off her circulation as he brought her hand to his chest, trying to distract himself but it wasn’t working.
“M-make it stop.” Roger spat the words as if they were a vile taste on his tongue that he wanted rid of.
His words were the confirmation that the doctor standing behind him needed to push the medication into the IV drip going into the vein on his right arm at the crease of his elbow. The medication that took only seconds to work and effectively turn Roger’s brain off until morning.
The feeling of his brain turning off was one that Roger had never experienced before but it was not one that he would recommend. It was like remembering and feeling the exact moment you went to sleep at night when normally you remembered your head hitting the pillow and thinking for a while, but you never remembered exactly when you drifted to sleep. Roger knew one thing for certain as he started to feel the pain disappearing. He knew that he wasn’t giving up the heroin for nothing. He had gone through six months of suffering and taking drugs to make the pain go away. If Roger couldn’t have something to take that pain away if it persisted, he would rather die than go another day with the pain they had refused to take away before.
i’m thinking of submitting to the ‘dont stop me now’ openings for the new music videos but i dont know if i should do it….
Guys who play guitar/bass are just better
Just watched Queen’s Live Aid performance for the umpteenth time…
I was supposed to get up an hour ago but instead i’ve been fucking around on tumblr looking at queen posts
I’d like to share with you my number one favorite photos of each of our four boys.
That is all. Thank you for your time.
Be expecting something on Disco boys birthday…
Roger Taylor radiates huge Leo energy with a possibly Aries horoscope while Deaky makes me wonder how the hell is a Leo and what’s his horoscope: probably a taurus.
my 22nd birthday is in 9 days (26th aug) & honestly i’d of never guessed i’d be blessed to see two of my fuckin role models IN PERSON and have gotten even just the slightest glances from them let alone a thumbs up & a peace sign 🥺🥺🥺🥺
A Deacury appreciation post
From Mötley Crüe I ship you with
From The Dirt I ship you with
From Queen I ship you with
From BoRhap I ship you with
I hope you like your ships and if not just remember these are based solely on my opinions💞