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    Summary

    1977. You're a documentary filmmaker with a Woodstock credit, an Arriflex on your shoulder, and an iron grip on every frame. When you're hired to direct the News of the World tour documentary, the job is simple: film the band, cut the footage, don't get involved.

    The drummer makes that impossible.
    Vain, persistent, and annoyingly photogenic.
    What follows is a months-long tour of acid and adrenaline, psilocybin and Polaroids, borrowed houses in the desert and borrowed time everywhere else. A love story in sensory detail: pancake makeup smeared against the curve of a neck, smoke hazing a private jet with the same color as his blue eyes, the taste of blood on another's fingers.
    This is not a story about a girl who falls for a rockstar. This is a story about a woman who never let go of control, and the man who made her want to.

     

    Author's note:
    This fic was born in 2019 and abandoned the same year. Seven years later, love, grief and a flight to Lollapalooza brought it back. If you notice a shift in the writing by chapter 2, you're not imagining it lol. The bones were good, but I was 20 then and I'm 27 now, and the years did what years do.
    Updates ongoing. The story is fully outlined.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    43,264
    Chapters:
    4/6
    Comments:
    16
    Kudos:
    44
    Bookmarks:
    6
    Hits:
    904