A/N: So, another We Will Rock You fic, this time based off that music player challenge that's been floating around. I chose to focus in on dear Galileo Figaro, as I do have the most fun writing for him. Some of the stories are pre show, some are post show, some are during the show, and some are slightly alternative version on Galileo himself. I wrote which lyrics inspired each story, and none of the stories are connected in any way to each other. So, read, enjoy, and please review telling me what you think of my efforts.
Soundtrack to My Life
1. Thnksfrthmmrs - Fall Out Boy
It's always cloudy except for when you look into the past
He was a child of another time. At least, that was the only explanation his young mind could come up with as to why he seemed to fit badly in this technological futuristic world. He stood out badly amongst the clean white children, all with their blindingly white smiles and equally blindingly uniforms. He stood out horribly on the bright lit up streets, a dark blot on an otherwise perfect town. At school, they were always told – as often as they could be told - that it never used to be like this, that before the great Globalsoft had saved the planet from destruction, all was darkness and fear, with people being too scared to step out of their front door for fear of what may happen to them if they did. It was a dark and dangerous time, and they should be grateful that they didn't need to live in those terrible times. But … that didn't fit with what he dreamt.
His dreams of the past broke through the cloudy world he live in, shining technicolour in the monotonous black and white in which he lived. It was his dreams that he wanted to live in, not this world. He wanted to go back to those times, even if they were as dangerous as his History HoloTeacher insisted they were. It had to be better than what he lived in surely. Why would he dream of such glorious things, with such beautiful noises, if none of it was real?
His dreams had to be real. They just had to be.
2. The Party Song - Blink 182
Well I did if I loved but I never dreamed there
Would be someone there who would catch my attention
I wasn't out searching for love or affection
When he was arrested, he was sure that that was the end. He had expected it, knew it was coming, and had even begun preparing months before it actually happened. For once in his life, he knew he was right about something connected to himself, and he couldn't help but feel a small sense of smugness about the fact. Of course, it occurred rather quickly to him that he was feeling smug about having guessed he was to be arrested, and quite possibly killed, which led him to an odd state of accepted morbidity. He never expected to come out of there alive, let alone with his mind intact, well, as intact as he assumed it could be.
He especially never expected to meet someone in there.
He had never believed in love, had never experienced it in his life to know if it was real anyway. He was the hated child, the bastard who ruined his parents' lives and the hellion who didn't even express the smallest hint of sadness at their deaths. It was expected, hoped, that he would live fast, die young, and leave nothing of himself behind. He resigned himself to this, knowing his insanity doomed him anyway. When he was arrested, he was fine with it. Sure it was the end; sure he could escape the hate, but... There was a small amount of light, in the form of a disenchanted, disaffected, moody, loud, angry girl. It wasn't love at first sight, but it was enough to interest him. She was different, like him, but without the insanity. He hoped without the insanity anyway.
It wasn't love at first sight, but it was close enough to it.
3. I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) - Meat Loaf
Some days I pray for silence, and some days I pray for soul
Some days I just pray to the God of Sex and Drums and Rock 'N Roll
Some nights I lose the feeling, and some nights I lose control
The dreams consumed him; always there singing songs in his head and the voices were forever talking to him. They never stopped, meaning he never stopped, and he was so tired of the constant, endless chatter. He had tried everything he could to control them, to no great effect, Pills dulled them for a while, drink made him zone out for long enough to gain some small scrap of peace, but nothing lasted forever, or for as long as he would have liked. Because he didn't want rid of them on a permanent basis. No, he liked these dreams, the sounds, the voices and the noises. They made him feel like part of something bigger than himself, and he needed that, in his world of isolation.
There would, on occasion, be extended periods of time – in reality never longer than three days, but they felt like an eternity – where he would be dreamless, and have none of the sounds, voices, or noises. Those times drove him crazy, every second stretching itself out into forever. Those were the times that he feared, as he was never sure what he would do. Hearing voices was one thing, he could deal with that. But to have nothing in his head? No comforting tone crooning softly to him at the most inappropriate time?
He feared those times, because that was when he lost control. Those nights he sat up, a small child yet again, terrified of what monsters were lurking in the shadows.
4. Here I Go Again - Whitesnake
And here I go again on my own
Goin' down the only road I've ever known,
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
His foster family had kicked him out as soon as he'd reached the right age. No one wanted a freak around, who knows that they might catch? He was on his own, no protection from the hateful glances, the hurtful phrase, the rocks, that were constantly thrown at him. He shouldn't be used to this cruelty, but the sad fact of his life was that it was normal for him. There hadn't been a single say within his memory that he could remember a word being spoken to him that was truly kind. So being alone wasn't a huge disaster, neither was being on the streets. He'd been on them for two years before he was caught by authorities, and forced into that house. Truth be told, he would have much preferred the streets, with its cold and harsh truths, to the spiteful glares and dangerous words he experienced in that house.
The streets were a true home to him; he was alone there and preferred it to be that way. It was interesting really; he was a solitary figure in a world where everyone was meant to be your friend, where popularity was a key to succeeding in life, where a life of anonymity was worse than a life of poverty. His life, unsurprisingly, was both. He dreamed of it being different, of rows upon rows of people, all happy, all chanting his name, with bright lights overhead bathing him in their light, a figure moving forward to embrace him. He often woke up at that point.
He gathered his things without problems from that house, and left without comment, back on the streets within a few minutes.
He felt like he was home.
5. Just A Girl - No Doubt
Oh...I've had it up to here!
The moment that I step outside
So many reasons
For me to run and hide
I can't do the little things I hold so dear
'Cause it's all those little things
That I fear
He was scared of the world, and the world was scared of him. He couldn't leave cross over the threshold without being aware of the fact that everything about him was an offence to everyone and everything that surrounded him. He was a generated anomaly, and he detested it. Why should he be hated for an incident so small as his birth? He was forced to go to school, and every step he took in the place, he was looking around him, wary of what could happen, knowing that he was existing purely on borrowed time.
He couldn't move for the fear, and that terrified him.
6. I'm Going Slightly Mad - Queen
Are they trying to tell you something?
You're missing that one final screw
You're simply not in the pink my dear
To be honest you haven't got a clue
He had begun to type up everything he could remember from his dreams, wanting to see if there was any connecting feature whatsoever. The smallest hint that he wasn't simply someone with a diseased mind, like his doctors often told him, would be enough to make him content, just the smallest hint. His fingers danced nervously over the keyboard of his laptop, typing with an unexpected grace from the boy with the twitches. The words came rushing out, little phrases, using full words instead of the generally accepted net speak that everyone typed in. It would only sully the meaning of these words to use that type of grammar.
He had lost all sense of punctuation, something which he was normally very meticulous over, typing as fast as his fingers would allow him, desperate to get the words out, wanting to see them in black and white characters on the paper thin screen in front of him. He strung them together, collecting like phrase with like phrase, finishing off lines that had bothered him for long enough. With the words in front of him, he was able to find the connections he was looking for, for some of the words and phrases at the very least. When he was finally finished, he sat back, staring at the screen, willing the words to unveil their secret to him. Wanting to find the smallest clue to his existence. He could find none, and his head flopping forward, hitting the enter key on the keyboard, causing the document to scroll down to the very bottom of what he typed out. One phrase shone out:
Seek salvation in the place of living rock. A bright, bright star will show the way. Go to where the Champions played.
7. Time Is Running Out - Muse
Our time is running out
Our time is running out
You can't push it underground
You can't stop it screaming out
How did it come to this?
It had been quiet for about a week before the Killer Queen had been able to strike back. The Secret Police flooded into the repaired Heartbreak Hotel, and the Bohemians fled. He was grabbing on to her wrist, pulling her along behind him in a way that was all too familiar to the both. They had never thought any of this would happen, at least, they had never admitted to thinking it. Truth was that this was the thing that every Bohemian feared, he possibly more than the others because he knew it would be his fault.
The screams echoed throughout the tunnel, the only thing other than their own panting that they could hear as they ran. Well, as he ran, pulling her along at his speed, aware that he was possibly hurting her, but knowing she would say nothing, but would be grateful for it. Neither of them wanted to be alone, not now they'd found each other. Neither of them could bear that feeling of being alone, not again.
So they ran, she gripping on to him just as hard as he was gripping on to her, if not harder, both wondering if there was a way out of it this time, and if this really was the end.
8. Bat Out Of Hell - Meat Loaf
And I know that I'm damned if I never get out
And maybe I'm damned if I do
But with any other beat I got left in my heart
You know I'd rather be damned with you
He had wondered why he hadn't apologised yet, even though his mind was screaming at him to do so. Or perhaps it was his heart, though it was rare that the two agreed with each other. Every time he had worked it up to apologise, she would glare at him, and he would be angry yet again. Besides which, talking would take up needed energy, they could only really walked during the day, as it was too dark in the night to navigate their way around. She would sleep, as he would sit, staring out into the cold air of the night, restless, angry, and hurt.
He didn't understand why she hadn't worked it out yet, why he had wanted her to stay in safety at the van. It was nothing to do with her being a woman, but it was everything to do with her being the woman he loved. It would kill him to see her hurt because he wasn't strong enough to fight for himself. He sat back, his fingers brushing against her legs slightly, causing her to shift in her sleep. He sighed. Why couldn't she see he was damned? That by pissing her off, he was trying to get her to leave, make her go somewhere safe that wasn't around him.
He may be damned, but he wasn't going to let her become damned with him. He loved her too much for that
9. Homecoming - Green Day
Somebody get me out of here
Anybody get me out of here
Somebody get me out of here
Get me the fuck right out of here
He screamed in his laser cell, forcing his hands against them, hearing the skin on his palms sizzle at the contact. He pulled them back, looking down to see the bright red skin already blistering. It didn't stop him from trying again, this time getting throw back, landing heavily on the floor, as the voltage of the laser had been turned up. He looked up, an inhuman snarl on his face, screaming words out at his guards, curses and phrases that came from his dreams. The guards had stepped back, scared of this one mad boy who could so easily change the world if he knew. They couldn't look away from him if they tried, there was something hypnotic about him, a presence of sorts that made you want to watch him, to see what he would do next.
He circled, a caged tiger pondering its next kill. The guards on duty hoped it wouldn't be them.
10. Different World - Iron Maiden
Tell me what you can hear
And then tell me what you see
Everybody has a different way
To view the world
They sat for a while, when they were done, the blanket covering them enough, and spoke softly. His voice, to her secret delight, rumbled through him, sending a shiver of warmth down her from her position curled up next to him, head resting on his chest. There was a prevalent musical quality to his voice, and she doubted he knew it was there, slowly hypnotizing those he spoke to, making them want to hear more. He told her of his dreams, and though she feigned boredom, she was interested, amazed even, that he could dream of such beautiful things when life had been nothing but cruel to him. At least, if the faint scars decorating his arms were any judge as to his quality of life before their first meeting.
Her own view of the world would upset him, she noted silently, for it was dark when his was light. It summed them up well; he was a dreamer, the Dreamer, while she was the realist. Or was it that she was forced to be the realist, to allow him to Dream? No, that was too cruel a thought for someone who had lived his life following his dreams. She sighed, curling into him tighter, enjoying listening to his stories of the times when Rock was allowed, and how beautiful it all sounded. Of course, she knew the reality of that time, of the wars and the hatred, but still, even in the darkest point of those times, there was something to strive for, there was hope.
And hope was their birthright, so why shouldn't she cling to it? Even if her hope was in the form of a slightly insane man. To her, he embodied everything that hope was meant to show, and she wanted to see the world through his eyes of hope, instead of her cynical eyes