#“WAIT-- YOU'RE IN A BAND?!” “YOU CAN SING?!” “I always thought you had a terrible singing voice”

[delicioustarong]

I have so many thoughts about Branch right now.

One particular thought of mine is this scenario, where Gray! Branch meets his future self, who is happy and colorful. I keep asking myself, "How will he react?" "What will happen?" and "How can I turn this both sad and funny?" (LMAO)

This is one of my favorite daydreams to imagine because I can't really write it out. I'm not a writer (I suck at expressing myself through words). I might draw a comic. Maybe? Idk. But anyway, I keep thinking about the fact that Branch was clearly born to be in the spotlight. Bro can adapt to new music fast, is great at singing (his voice is literally being compared to an angel), and the fact he's in two bands is just 🤯.

So whenever I imagine my daydream, I always have this specific dialogue in mind that just makes me go feral.

"How can you be so happy?! After everything we've been through! How can you smile and laugh like we aren't the reason why grandma isn't here?"

"Because grandma would want us to be happy. Grandma would want us to move on and forgive ourselves!.....I never realized that until someone showed me that I can be happy, I just needed help finding it."

[glitterbombedshadow]

69 followers special freaks

As promised I deliver to you an absolutely terrible Donald Trump x Joe Biden fanfiction with a Rocktre cameo specially for Cade ✨

Rockstar au, they make out but no fucking

Not beta read we die like Bitter

   The sound of crowd cheers drowned out as they began playing the intro to another song. Donald took a moment to check on his bandmates, the lead and rhythm guitarists Rocky and Entre were currently too focused to notice his staring. Trump shot one envious look at their matching engagement rings before he turned to Joe that was playing a lazy bassline and gave him an anxious smile as they made eye contact. The two had a long history of childhood rivalry before making amends in the name of rock ‘n roll. He did not spare a glance to their poor drummer as after they had to kick out Matt for stealing they had to quickly find a temporary replacement. 

Donald took a deep breath and right when he was about to sing he suddenly heard a loud bang and a whistling sound of a bullet. Something wet started dripping down his neck and a stinging pain came from his ear. Crowd went crazy, screaming, pushing at each other just to get away from the stage not caring to pick up anyone that fell over in the frenzy. Security poured in, shouting orders and dragging the frozen in shock musicians backstage. 

The following moments were like a blur to Donald, being separated from his fellow musicians in order to be patched up, getting interrogated by law enforcement and learning that the shooter was some very angry fan of the opening band that drank way more than he could handle. Obviously the concert will go down in history of shitty shows, which oh well, any publicity is good publicity. Donald was dropped off at their shared band house by a police officer. He sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he opened the door with a trembling hand.

“Donald! You're back!”, Joe called out to him sitting on a couch in the living room with Rocky and Entre, clearly waiting for him, “You have no idea how worried we were, they just took you away and refused to tell us what's going on or where you were and god, the blood, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm good I got shot and I'm good”, Donald waved him off and went straight for the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of wine,“I'm going to my room, don't disturb me”.

 Soon after he left Rocky and Entre went to their room, leaving Joe alone with his thoughts. He paced around the room, mind full of ‘what it' scenarios where the shooter had better aim. Trump was never his best friend but Joe would be lying if he said that the prospect of having to live without this annoying asshole didn't feel him with dread. He sighed feeling that he couldn't possibly spend this night alone.

It was only a measure of time before his legs carried him into Donald's room. There he found the always charismatic vocalist lying spread eagle on the bed, bottle of wine in hand, staring at the ceiling with an absent expression.

 “Donald?”. The tan man jumped slightly and looked at him, “HUh- oh hi Joe, you startled me. You startled me and I'm wondering what are you doing here?” 

Paler of the two scratched his head, avoiding the others gaze shyly, “Er, I just wanted to check up on you, you know, after everything”

  Trump sat up and stared him down, “Like I said I'm fine, so unless you need something you can go”. Joe neither responded nor walked away. Donald just sighed, “okay, sit down, I can see you need to talk, what is it?”. Less mentally capable of the two sat down, taking the bottle of booze with a grateful nod. “ You see”-he started hesitantly-”This whole situation made me think about how fragile our lifes are and… Don't you ever feel like we're wasting our time? Yes we may be famous but what will it matter in the end. Everyone around us just wants to use us and I just feel so alone. And I didn't know who I can talk about it with, not like Rocky and Entre could understand me, they're basically glued at the hip.” He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I know exactly what you mean”, Donald murmured, “ When the shot was fired all I could think was ‘is this how I'm going to die? Surrounded by thousands of strangers that couldn't care less for me if not for my music?’. And when they took me away I was so scared because they would tell me if anyone else got hurt. If you were okay...” Trump covered his face with his hands. “Donald?” Joe grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Trump look him straight in the eyes, “ I don't want to live a lie anymore Joe. I've been hiding from the truth all this time but I can't do it anymore”.

“What do you mean-” Biden was suddenly cut off when he felt the other kiss him.He was too stunned to kiss back or even close his eyes. 

Donald pulled away sharply, “Oh god, I'm so sorry, this was a mistake, please forget about it”. “No, wait! Does this mean you like me?” Joe looked at him with those puppy eyes that always drive him crazy. He touched his face tenderly, “I love you so bad it's stupid. I love you so bad I'd run away with you if you only asked” 

Joe has never heard something like that but knew at that moment he wanted to spend the rest of his life with that stupid stuck up jerk, so he did the first thing that came to his mind and threw his arms around the other, embracing him while peppering kisses on his face. Donald pulled him onto his lap bringing him closer. Joe gasps and pulls him by his collar into a kiss that carries with it all the longing they had for each other all these years. He sucks on the others lower lip, asking to be let in, their tongues glide alongside each other in an intimate dance. Joe can vaguely taste the expensive wine on Donald's lips. 

They separate for a moment and Donald flips them over on the bad so that he has Biden pinned under him. They cringe when they hear the forgotten wine bottle roll of the bed and break on a white carpet making the room look like it was visited by post season3 Hannigram murder husbands (miraculously survived the fall). “I never like that carpet anyway” Donald chuckles before he attacks Joe's neck, sucking little marks being careful to not do it right above his artery so he doesn't have a stroke and die right after they make out. Joe moans softly when Donald bites the skin covering his trapezius muscle. The younger one unbuttoned his shirt to admire his body underneath. Trump runs his hands over his chest, outlining every muscle. Joe felt the need to cover up, vulnerable under his stare, but he relaxed noticing the admiration in the corn looking man's eyes. Donald leaves small kisses on his abdomen and begins to unbuckle his too tight pants when, “Hey Blondie wanna play smash bros with-”, Rocky walks into the room announced and freezes seeing the situation he just interrupted, before smirking, “ENTRE THEY ARETHEYRE FINALLY TOGETHER I WON THE BET!!!!!!” He finger guns at the pair and turns around leaving them dumbfounded and cockblocked.

[witchwrestler]

Day 9 of @corrodedcoffinfest "THE HIDEOUT"

wc: 690

pairing: eddie x reader

rating: T

cw: some curse words in my writing, mentions of underage drinking (if I missed anything pls lmk)

a/n: not my best work lol i was trying to get it out before midnight, enjoy <3

"You can catch us every Tuesday, playing to a crowd of...about 5 drunks! But it's still a good time I swear!"

Is how Eddie munson had posed the idea to you at lunch yesterday. He asked if you wanted to go to a concert and given that you had jack shit after school, you said yes, and then he said it was "This band Corroded Coffin" and you said, "Isn't that your band?" and then he said, "yeah, come watch!"

The smile that crept onto your face was inescapable, you had been waiting for this weird little metalhead dude who sat next to you in biology to ask you out all year and it finally happened. You remembered him from middle school, when he would talk about having a band and making it big in New York, playing Madison Square Garden, the whole thing. He had big dreams, and you had full confidence he'd achieve them.

They started playing at the hideout when they started high school, Gareth knew the manager and practically begged him to let them play there. They loved it, though it was hot and sticky and probably violated many health codes. The five drunks they played for were the only people who cared to listen, even if they were only half conscious. Plus they got free beer out of it. Getting blackout drunk every time they played was just half the fun. At least thats what eddie always said.

---------

They played at 8 o'clock he said. You showed up and sat at the back, a coke in hand. Eddie spotted you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up. You didn't clock him until you saw him giving you a shy wave from the stage. He hopped off the stage from tuning his guitar and lightly jogged over to you, leaning against the table and offering a soft smile.

"Hey, you made it" he said, smiling almost childishly and rocking on his feet.

"I did." You said, giving a small nod.

"Y-You look nice" He said, shyly, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Thanks." You looked down at your dress, a little white bow amidst the black right between your chest. "I was worried I did too much"

He rubbed his neck in an awkward habit, "...No. I mean look at me" He said, motioning to the chains on his pants and the eyeliner he'd put on moments before.

You let out a small laugh, and Eddie's face lights up. "That's fair. But you look good too"

He smiles again but looks away briefly, trying to find the words "Do you have any plans after the show?"

You sipped the coke in your hand and looked up to him from your seat, "Go home probably.... unless you had something in mind?"

"You wanna grab a bite after?" He said, looking nervously to his shoes.

"absolutely. It's a date" You say, smiling up at him.

---------

You watched from the table you sat at, sipping your drink and singing quietly the songs you knew, occasionally catching eddies eye as you did. He looked so happy, like he fit in. He was so in his element for someone performing to five deadbeat 40 year olds and a bartender. They played a couple metallica songs, and near the end a cover of ring of fire by johnny cash. He fit that song, plus it wasnt so terrible watching him pluck the guitar strings. They ended with an Eddie Original as he called it, and then the show was over. It's a real shame they don't have a bigger crowd, you thought

You awaited eddie outside the hole in the wall bar, and watched him as he talked to the guys and threw glances in your direction. "So did you like the show?" He questioned, anxiously awaiting an answer. "You guys were so good. You better not forget me when you're famous, munson." You said, smiling.

He chuckled at your response, "Wouldn't dream of it."

"wanna go get greasy diner burgers?" He questioned, walking backwards toward his van. "Is that even a question?" You retorted, chuckling and following him.

[join-the-joywrite]

Take my hand (take my whole life too)

"We played the Oprheum!"

The bouncing hug only lasted a second or two. While the boys regained a significant amount of lost strength, Julie's was slowly dwindling. She was, after all, only human and was out of home way later than usual. Her own internal clock seemed to be screaming at her to at least sit down.

Instead, she went down with the boys as her foot caught on a cable and she stumbled to the floor.

Alex made for a soft landing, one for which her apology was littered with giggles. Alex didn't mind. The slight pain was welcome in comparison to Caleb's jolts. Not to mention, he'd wanted to hug Julie ever since she cried during her not-so-private performance of her mother's song weeks ago. So he lay on the floor and squished Julie tight, only bringing forth more giggles.

"Hey, my turn!" Reggie yelled, rolling over and dropping himself half on Julie, fully on Alex.

"Oof," Luke commented, "that looks like it hurt."

"It did," Alex wheezed, adjusting himself to get used to the additional weight.

As one, all three of them held out an arm to Luke, who didn't hesitate to scoot closer and join the cuddle pile. Head on Alex's shoulder, he was right in front of Julie. He gave her a smile that, had she been standing, would've probably made her lose her balance. She gave him one back.

"I like this," Reggie murmured contentedly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah," Julie agreed, relishing in the fact that she could finally hug her boys, "me too."

They stayed like that for a moment before Alex sat up with great difficulty, sending them all tumbling. "You're all very heavy," he stated by way of explaining.

Julie chuckled and moved to stand up. Luke and Reggie grabbed one of her arms each.

"Stay," both whined. Reggie continued with a grin. "I promise I can be a soft pillow for you."

"I'd love to, honestly, but Carlos is waiting for me. He wanted to talk to me and. . ."

"Fine," Reggie huffed, "but just know that I'm feeling incredibly hurt right now."

Julie ruffled his hair, grinning when he closed his eyes and smiled under her touch. "There's always tomorrow."

Still, all three of them pouted when Julie stood up and righted her clothes.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," she said before walking to the doors. She paused just before closing it. "Thank you, guys."

Alex gave her a wave. Luke smiled at her with a dopey expression. Reggie continued to pout.

Julie bounded up the pathway, gait as giddy as her smile. Carlos was waiting for her in the living room.

"Hey," she said, joining him on the couch.

"Hey."

"Whatcha got there?" she asked, nodding to the paper Carlos' hands were clamped around. "Another French dip recipe?"

Carlos shook his head. "You know what this is."

"I . . . really don't."

"Your band! They're--!" Carlos stopped and glanced around looking for their father. He leaned across the vouch and whispered to Julie with wide eyes, "ghosts."

Julie forced a laugh. "What? No, don't be silly, there's no such thing as ghosts."

Carlos lifted his eyebrows. "Okay, then explain this."

Julie picked up the little black and blue page Carlos tossed to the middle of the couch, recognising it as a CD insert. For Sunset Curve. Julie's own eyebrows lifted slightly, but she continued to pretend like she hadn't a clue what was happening. Then she turned it over and knew the jig was up. Staring up at her was all four members of Sunset Curve. Trevor, or Bobby, sure looked different when he was younger.

"They're just lookalikes--"

"I'd believe you if they were here and we could touch them."

The idea of being able to hold and hug her bandmates brought a warm smile back to Julie's face. She quickly wiped it off and shook her head. "Where'd you even find this?"

"In the box with the French dip recipe."

"Ah."

Carlos suddenly looked around wildly. Julie looked around too.

"What? What happened? What are we looking for?"

"Are they here?"

"What? No, they're in the garage--"

"Aha!" Carlos grinned and folded his arms. "You're a terrible liar, Jules."

"Wh-- I am not!"

"You are, though."

Julie jumped slightly and moved away from Reggie. Carlos noticed and immediately turned his gaze where Julie looked. "Are they here now? Tell them I say hello!"

Julie rolled her eyes. "They can hear you, dork -- and it's just Reggie."

"Tell him that I say hello."

"Reggie says hello," Julie said, heaving a resigned sigh. "What are you doing here? I told you I'd see you in the morning."

"I knew it," Carlos whispered to himself as he watched his sister talk to thin air. She looked, in all honesty, a bit insane, but at least he knew he was right about the ghosts. "So how does the ghost thing even work? How come I can't see him now, but we can all see them when you play?"

Julie whipped her head from Reggie to Carlos. "It -- I'll explain it all tomorrow, okay? It's been a long day. Reggie, go back to the studio. Carlos, to bed. It's late."

"All right," Carlos grumbled, sliding off the couch. He paused at the stairs and glanced back to see Julie scolding nothing. He hoped he'd get to officially met the guys. Julie made them seem fun.

"All right, little man, what do you wanna hear?"

Julie repeated the question to Carlos, letting him know that it was Reggie who asked.

Carlos thought for a moment. "I like the song you were singing before you got back into the music program."

"Oh, that's not our song, that -- that--"

"No, it's okay," Luke said, "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I -- okay."

Carlos sat down on the couch, almost bouncing with excitement as Julie took a seat behind the piano. The melody she played wasn't loud and energetic like their usual songs. It was quiet and gentle. Even when the band kicked in, they were much softer than usual. Julie hummed along where the words should be so that Carlos could easily speak to the boys.

"I'm--"

"Wait!" Carlos said, jumping off the couch, cutting Luke off. "I'm gonna guess based on what Julie says about you."

"You talk about us?" Luke asked with a teasing grin.

Julie hit a particularly furious note. "Shut up."

"Luke, Reggie and Alex," Carlos said, pointing to the correct band member as he went.

"Nice, little man!"

"This is so cool," Carlos whispered, eyes widening when Reggie paused playing and knelt down for Carlos to stick his hand through Reggie's arm. "Woah."

The band noticed that they were very intangible to Carlos.

Luke was only slightly disappointed when Carlos chose to focus his attention on Alex next.

"I like your hoodie."

"Thanks," Alex said, beaming. "Here, you wanna try?"

"Nah, I don't play music . . . okay, maybe a little."

Julie laughed softly as she watched Alex stand and then point where Carlos should hit. To keep them from disappearing, she continued the piano. Luke kept up with his guitar, grinning at her all the while. Their little musical conversation didn't go unnoticed by Reggie and Alex, who shared a knowing glance before Carlos grabbed Alex's attention.

"Have you ever accidentally stabbed your drums through with the sticks?"

"No, and please do not do that. We have no idea what it costs to repair dead instruments."

Carlos handed the drumsticks back to Alex and hopped off the chair. He stood in front of Luke, who knelt down as Reggie had done.

"So. You're the one my sister has a crush on."

"Carlos!" Jullie yelled, standing up and slamming down about five wrong keys.

"It was nice meeting you," Carlos yelled as he fled the garage.

With her face burning, Julie chased him down.

Alex and Reggie did their best not to laugh. They really did. But the shell-shocked look on Luke's face was hilarious. Even the withering glare Luke sent them didn't help quieten their laughter.

Up in the house, Ray Molina thought he was about to witness a wrestling match. "Julie! What are you doing?"

Julie, who suddenly realised there was no way to explain why she was attacking Carlos without either sounding like a lunatic or exposing the phantoms to her father, slowly slid down to the ground.

Carlos sat up on the couch. "Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a--"

"Oh, that is it!"

Perplexed, Ray watched Julie spring back on the couch with a war cry, followed by a pained, "How could you say that in front of him?!"

"Who's Luke?"

Carlos, seemingly determined to ruin Julie's life, broke out from her seeking arms and grinned at Ray. "The beanie boy in her little boyband--"

"CARLOS!"

"Julie," Ray said, a playful warning edge creeping into his voice as he folded his arms, "is there something you want to talk about?"

"No! Not at all! Excuse me, I have to go, um, rehearse!"

"Rehearse?" Ray exchanged an amused grin with Carlos. "What for?"

"Uh, future gigs? You know, since we played the Orpheum, we might get like a ton of calls and -- oh, like this, see?" As Julie held up her phone, both Ray and Carlos saw Flynn's name, but both decided to give Julie a small reprieve. In the meantime, Carlos could fill Ray in about this little crush business.

"You are not going to believe what just happened," Julie said, taking the stairs two at a time. "I took Carlos down to the garage to meet the guys, you know, 'cause he figured them out and he wanted to meet them, but then he told Luke I have a crush on him and I ended up chasing Carlos back to the house 'cause I didn't want to stay in the garage with Luke -- and Alex and Reggie -- and then my dad caught us fighting on the couch and then Carlos told my dad that I have a crush on Luke and my life is over!"

Flynn took a moment to respond. "Well . . . it's not like he's wrong, is he?"

"Flynn!" The wail that Julie threw into her pillow as she face planted her bed was equal parts betrayed and mortified. "How am I supposed to show my face at practice now? Can I come and bury my head in the sand at your place?"

Flynn laughed over the phone. "Grow up, Jules. You turned Nick down for this air cutie. Nick. You made your choice, now live with it."

"Flynn," Julie growled.

"Okay, okay. Look, you have to talk about it at some point. There's no way you can have that kind of fire on stage without some mutual attraction, and that's just Luke and Reggie. Then there's Luke and you. Jules, that's not even a fire anymore. There is something serious between you two and even though I still think it's a bad idea because he's, you know, air, I still think you need to talk about it before the wrong thing blows up."

"I know," Julie sighed. "I can handle Luke -- I think. It's my dad I'm worried about. How do I explain it all without him wanting to take me to a shrink?"

"Don't tell him anything. Show him. Maybe with a little less flair than you did with me. Play him something soft. Like . . . wasn't your mom in a couple of bands when she was our age? Maybe he'd know one of her songs. Maybe if you guys played something of hers, he'll have enough of his head around him to know it's all real, but enough of it will be in the clouds that it'll be easy to explain."

Julie stared at her phone, at the contact photo she had of Flynn. "You are a genius."

"I know. So, I was just calling to ask how you're holding up, but I'm going to assume everything is fine and the guys didn't cross over?"

"Yeah, no, it was really weird. Caleb's curse just sort of . . . broke, I guess, after I hugged them."

"Wait, hold up. You hugged them? What was that like, arms hanging in the air and hoping you were touching?"

Julie sighed a happy sigh. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I'll be there for dinner, no excuses -- and I expect your dad to know what's going on by then."

Julie rolled over and muffled a groan of despair into her pillow.

"Rough day?"

"It's only ten," Julie whined, lifting her head to give Alex her sad eyes.

Alex smiled. "You'll be fine -- I mean with your dad thing. With Luke on the other hand. . ."

Julie faux sobbed into her pillow, eliciting a soft chuckle from Alex, who sat down on her bed. He reached out for her shoulder then quickly drew back. Ever since Julie left the garage last night, it had been on his mind -- on all their minds -- that the hug was a one-time thing. He didn't want to confirm their fears if they were right.

"Hey, it's okay, Jules."

Julie let out a strangled wail that took Alex a few seconds of clamping his mouth shut to avoid laughing at the poor girl.

"I'm serious. You know, Luke, he . . . he's not great with feelings. He talks with music, with songs, with lyrics. He says the most important things when he looks at you on stage or at a rehearsal or when you're writing music together. He's just scared. I mean, we all are, but him most."

Julie sat up, hugging her wail-pillow to her chest. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Alex shrugged. "All I'm saying is, give him a chance -- and give Carlos a break. Honestly, he might have just done you a favour."

"I cannot believe you're taking Carlos' side."

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm just -- things are already complicated. How much worse can they get?"

Julie sighed. "I don't know. . ."

"Well, it's not like Luke does either. He's locked himself in the bathroom and Reg and I think he's been crying in the bathtub this whole time. We'd phase through the door but Luke can actually hit us if he wants to so. . ."

"Oh, and you think I can't?" Julie teased.

The two shared an amused grin, but beneath it, both were thinking the same thing. What if she couldn't?

"All right, I'll tall to him. But you and Reggie have to leave."

Julie ventured into the empty garage. She looked around for Reggie and Alex, unsure if she was relieved or not when she didn't find them. Up in the loft, they watched Julie disappear as she headed further in towards the bathroom door.

She knocked gently. "Luke?"

Silence.

"Come on, I know you're in there. Alex says you've locked yourself in and won't come out."

"I'm not Luke."

"Okay, but I need to talk to Luke so can you pass on the message for me?"

"I'll let him know."

Julie smiled, finding Luke's behaviour somewhat amusing. She leaned against the door. "I'm sorry about Carlos, he . . . he just really enjoys embarrassing me in front of people. I guess he figured since you guys can't really speak to other people, you'll have to talk to me and we'll all have to confront whatever he said so that's why he picked you to tease and --" Julie broke off with a sigh.

The bathroom stayed silent.

"And I'm sorry for running out after him. I was just . . . I was afraid of what you'd say."

When Luke spoke again, though his voice was much softer, it was also much clearer. As if he were closer to the door. "Why? Was he . . . telling the truth? Did you say something?"

Julie fidgeted with the sleeves on her yellow jersey. "No, but I'm not exactly the most subtle person and if you haven't noticed, I suck at lying."

Luke laughed softly. "Oh, we noticed. Everyone knows you're a horrible liar."

"Thanks," Julie said with a grin, "I mean, I really just came here to affirm what a bad liar I am."

"Ooh, sarcastic too."

"Shut up."

"Well?" Luke said after a moment of silence. "Was he?"

Julie leaned against the door and sighed. "What does it matter? It's not like anything would come of it."

"It does matter, Jules. It -- it matters because -- well, I mean, you matter. To me."

"I know," Julie said softly, turning so that her back was against the door. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Not all of it sucks," Luke murmured from the other side of the door. "We could find a way. You've already done so much that no other lifer ever has, as far as anyone knows. Why stop there?"

Julie laughed. "Your ambition is very inspiring, Luke, but everything has a limit."

"So find that limit, then. You'll never know how high it is if you stop now."

Julie felt something brush her hand and glanced down to see Luke's arm phasing through the door. She wanted to reach for his hand but she was afraid she'd just pass through him. So she made a joke instead.

"You do realise that a floating arm is way more unsettling than anything else ghosts have ever done, right?"

"How's a floating head?" Luke asked, pulling his hand back and leaning forward. He gave Julie a grin. "That's always scary, right?"

"Stop it, that's weird."

Neither noticed that Julie had managed to make physical contact with Luke until after she'd shoved him back into the bathroom.

"If I come out there, are you going to poke me in the eyes again?"

"First of all, I didn't," Julie said, appreciating that Luke wasn't reacting with the panicked excitement she felt. "Second of all, I'll try not to."

"Okay, but if you do, I'm really going back into the bathtub."

Julie twisted her fingers and wrung her wrists and bounced nervously as she waited for Luke to step through the door.

"Can we try that again?" Luke asked, holding out both hands to her.

The scene felt vaguely familiar to Julie, and everything came crashing down when her hands passed through Luke's once and then twice.

"You're nervous," Luke said softly, "there's no need to be. You didn't think last time. You weren't nervous."

"I can't. I don't know what it is--"

"Yes, you do. You know it's not us doing anything. You're the one with all the magic, Jules."

Nervous but now confident, Julie tried once again. She thought she'd be able to walk on water whe she felt Luke's hands close around her own. The smile he gave her was the usual dopey look she always noticed him wearing around her.

"See? It's all you."

Julie squeezed his hands, almost like she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "I like this," she murmured.

"Hey, Jules?"

"Yeah?"

Luke watched her eyes widen the tiniest bit as she gave him a questioning look. "Uh, do you -- about what Carlos said . . . We will talk about that, right?"

"Yes. I promise. Just . . . later?"

"Okay." Just the promise was enough for Luke. Besides, he could hold her, now. He could hold her hand, brush her hair out of her face, hug her. He could even flick her nose or tug her curls to annoy her, nudge her around when she didn't laugh at his jokes. And if -- he hoped she did -- but if she didn't feel the same way he did, then being able to be her best friend and just high five her now and then would still be enough. She wasn't just out of reach anymore.

Ayeeeee this just be sitting in my notes??? I found it like this??? All it needed was a title??? Speaking of, I might change that title and steal it for a sad fic oop

[mattness]

somebody to love [au]

Genres: Romantic, AU, Fluff, Songfic Note: Sorry for stupid little mistakes, it's my clumsy translation:)

1986

At another noisy party Jacob Frye was actively leaning on beer and looking for some girl to whom he'd buzz all ears about the recently released album of Queen. He had already drunk a decent amount of beer, and now he was looking for a "victim". But the third girl turned up her nose, not wanting to listen, how brilliant the Queen's songs are. It's strange that he didn't manage to talk to anyone with the same success as when he was sober. He looked very well: perfectly styled and combed hair, leather jacket, black t-shirt and jeans. Frye was sure that he wouldn't leave here alone today, but hope of a hot continuation of the night for the third time slipped away.

Jacob walked down the corridor with a sigh, where only couples in love hung around. He looked into the living room, hoping to find one of his friends, Ezio or Edward, but they're not there. Suddenly, the gaze of green eyes stopped on girl sitting alone on sofa in front of TV. She looked quite nice, concluded the drunker mind of Jacob, who had already gone with the fourth attempt to prove the genius of Queen.

"Do you know, why the song "Somebody To Love" from new Queen's album is the best?" Frye asked, sitting impressively on the sofa next to the girl, placing his hand behind her.

She looked up from the contemplation of the glass with a drink in her hands, looking with a grin at Jacob, who was ready to smile triumphantly. Well, at least someone paid attention!

"Why?"

"Because it's my favorite song".

"You should have thought of something better for flirting", she snickered, and Jacob raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Is it really that bad?"

"Terrible."

"Then, why you haven't left yet?" he snorted resentfully, not taking his eyes off the girl, who didn't stop smiling.

"I was waiting for a music lover like me to come up to talk", she shrugged, and Jacob smiled broadly, immediately suggesting that they go somewhere, where is quieter. She didn't refuse.

They left the house and went outside, where walked slowly towards the campus park. It was a warm summer night. Jacob didn't stop talking all the way, speaking with pleasure about his favorite band, and girl walked next to him, listening attentively, without interrupting. Soon they sat down on a bench, and Frye suddenly came to his senses.

"I'm sorry. Where is my politeness?" he reproached himself, smiling charmingly. "I'm Jacob. What's your name?"

"Gwen", she smiled, and drunk Frye caught himself thinking, that he'd never seen such a beatiful smile before. Perhaps, his hormones and a strong desire to have sex with someone today spoke in him, but girl was really beautiful.

"And... what do you listen?"

"I also like Queen, but I prefer Elton John", Gwen confessed.

"Elton John is a pop singer", Jacob sneered, but it didn't hurt her at all.

"He's a great pop singer. In general, I listen a lot of things."

"Can I rate your vinyl collection?" he arched his eyebrows playfully, directly hinting at his desires at the moment, which made Gwendolyn laugh heartily. "What? Is that even worse than the first one?"

Gwen gave him a curt nod and a friendly pat on his shoulder.

"Unfortunately, you won't have sex tonight, Jacob."

The girl got up from bench and slowly headed towards to the women's dormitory. Jacob, outraged by this turn of events, jumped up from seat and caught up with her. Now he was walking in front of Gwen.

"Tell me, would you sleep with me?"

"Only to Elton John's songs", she joked, and Jacob rolled his eyes.

"Would you? Seriously."

"Good night, Jacob", Gwendolyn said. Frye saw off his last hope for sex tonight and decided to return to the dormitory with a disappointed sigh. The evening was definitely not a good one from the beginning.

In upset feelings, Frye went into the room, to which his neighbor hadn't even returned yet. This only made him more upset than before. He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling in silence until he fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, from the morning, Jacob went extremely dissatisfied, and this didn't go unnoticed by his friends. At lunchtime, as usual, they gathered at the same table in the large students dining room, chatting about the latest events and about something else quite insignificant. Jacob didn't really listen, taking to part in the conversation, although he usually always teased them.

"You're so quiet today, Frye", Edward remarked with his mouth full.

"All girls refused him yesterday", Ezio grinned maliciously cathcing his friend's displeased look. "Really, there wasn't a single girl, who would like to listen to your rave reviews about the latest Queen's album?"

"Go to Hell, Ezio", Jacob snapped.

"You should have heard his flirting on a drunken stupor... If I were a not very smart girl, I wouldn't have fuck with him either", Arno laughed, and a loud, friendly guffaw rolled around their table, but Jacob didn't care. Suddenly, he noticed among the crowd of students a girl, who confessed her love for works of Elton John yesterday. Due to the fact that Frye had drunk too much, he didn't really see her, but he remembered, that she was short with dark brown hair. Now, seeing her with friends, Jacob noticed, that she's really attractive. Especially in this light cotton dress with striped tights.

"Hey, what are you staring at?" Edward waved his hand in front of Frye's face, but Jacob didn't react in any way. His friends followed his gaze.

"Oh, what a cute little one", Auditore smiled. "Will you come to her, Jacob?"

Waking up from a slight obsession, Jacob didn't answer anything, jumped up from his seat and quickly closed the distance to table, where Gwendolyn was sitting. He took an empty chair, turned it back forward and sat down with them as if nothing had happened, which caused girls to stop chatting.

"Oh, Queen fan himself", Gwen grinned, her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail today.

Her friends looked at each other with same grin on their faces.

"I want to ask you have a dinner with me", Jacob smiled, ignoring the others. Right now, he was completely engrossed in the big brown eyes. There was a gleam of interest in them. "Agree. You'll like it."

"Only if you turn on Abba's "Dancing Queen" on your player, heavy metal lover", Gwen said with a giggle, looking very pleased, when Jacob was confused, apparently not immediately understanding, what was it.

"But this is —" he tried to be indignant.

"So, this is also shitty music?" girl interrupted, making an impassive face and turning away from him. But Jacob wasn't going to give up just like that. And if he gave up so easily, he wouldn't be himself.

"Okay, okay! We'll listen to all your favorite music, if you agree to have a dinner with me!"

Gwendolyn turned her attention back to him and smiled warmly. Jacob smiled back.

"Fine. Friday evening?"

"No. Tonight."

"But I have —"

"You've already agreed", Frye interrupted with a wink. Girl exchanged glances with her friends, and they nodded approvingly to her. "I meet you after all classes, right? Just tell me number of the audience."

Gwen called the right class and time, and Jacob, smiling at all girls, hurried back to the table to his friends, who'd watched the whole scene from the beggining. Now his mood is just fine.

It was very hard to wait for the evening. It seemed that time was deliberately dragging on too long, delaying the moment of a date with a girl, who seemed to love music as much as he did. At least, she knew who Queen was, and Jacob was ready to marry her. Of course, this is a rather loud statement, but how nice it was for him. That's why he was waiting so long for half past six in the evening to be at the audience number "345".

The bell rang, and the students, one by one, began to leave the history lesson. Jacob looked for Gwendolyn, who had gone out in the company of her friends. Noticing Frye, she said goodbye to them and approached him with a smile.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To a small but very nice bar on the outskirts of Cambridge", he smiled, offering to take his arm. The girl didn't mind.

"Is it far away?"

"I have a car."

Jacob was the proud owner of a red Mustang, a model of the seventy-fourth year, which made him the envy of almost everyone on campus. And he often drove girls on it. Everyone was in love with this car, including him.

Frye gallantly opened the door for Gwen, and she climbed into the salon.

"Will I turn on Queen?" Jacob asked, already sitting behind the wheel.

"Oh, no", Gwen giggled. She took a cassette of Elton John's new album out of her backpack. "Please. Listen to at least a couple of songs, and then, if you don't like it at all, turn on your own."

"All right, a pop fan", Jacob said with a mockery in his voice, and she just laughed, so sincerely that something jumped in his heart. The cassette was in the tape recorder, and the salon was filled with pleasant notes from the song "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word". Jacob began to listen the words, and Gwen began to sing along softly. The song was touching, a little sad, but he really liked it. It even made him think about how lonely he really was, but all the longing was knocked down by the next "Between Seventeen and Twenty", which seems to be perfect for driving.

A completely different plan for the evening with Gwen was born in Jacob's head, very different from the original one. So they stopped at the nearest store, bought food and a couple of bottles of beer. The Mustang was parked on a high hill with an impressive view of the whole of Cambridge. Jacob liked to come here alone, enjoy music and think about everything in the world. It was a private place, but now he is ready to share it with Gwen.

"Do you like Elton?" the girl was curious when the tape ended, and Jacob turned off the engine.

"Exceeded all my expectations", he said honestly. With the next tape, he turned on Queen. While the first songs were playing, the couple talked about everything, getting to know each other better. Jacob liked Gwendolyn more and more, and he saw in her something like a kindred spirit.

As soon as the food was eaten and the beer was drunk, Jacob got out of the car with Gwen. In the cold of the evening, he offered to dance. Exactly at this moment, his favorite "Somebody To Love" started playing. Jacob began to dance and sing along, not taking his eyes off the girl, who couldn't help but smile. Their hands were constantly intertwined. He pulled her to waist, already singing along to Freddie in a half-whisper.

Frye's voice caressed her ears, and Gwen felt a magical warmth spread in her chest. It was something incredible. She had never experienced anything like this with any guy before. Jacob was special. And suddenly she understood, why he liked this particular song so much.

"Why did you stop smiling? What is it?" he asked, stopping when he noticed her sad look.

"I feel like I'm in this song, too", Gwen said seriously, looking into his green eyes. "It seems that it doesn't sound sad, but... its meaning is very close to me. I understand why you like it so much, Jacob."

Frye raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn't interrupt her.

"You're the same. Behind the external fun and recklessness, you hide your loneliness, you just want someone to love you as selflessly and endlessly as you are ready to love someone", Gwendolyn smiled sadly, gently stroking his shoulders, realizing from his discouraged face, that she'd hit the nail on the head. Jacob remained in a sincere stupor for several minutes, gradually agreeing with every word she said.

"I'm sorry if I —" Gwen hurried to add, because the silence dragged on, but she didn't have time to finish. Jacob leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

The girl answered with pleasure, smiling through the kiss.

"Can I call you Gwenny?" Jacob asked when the air in his lungs ran out. Gwen nodded, receiving another kiss. "Please be my... my girlfriend, Gwenny."

"If you turn on Abba's Mama Mia", Gwen joked, and Frye laughed.

"I'm ready to turn on anything, as long as you're be mine."

They laughed together and danced to their favorite songs for the rest of the night. As soon as the notes of "Mamma Mia" rang out, Gwen began to sing along, without taking her eyes off Jacob, who was looking at her with the most satisfied look, falling more and more in love with every second. He felt, that he would never be as happy with anyone as with this girl. On the last chorus, she came close, pressing her whole body against him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him a couple of times on the scar on his cheek, and whispered on his lips:

"My, my, I could never let you go."

Jacob smiled broadly, drowning in blissful oblivion and forgetting about everything around him. His whole world now consisted of cassettes with his favorite songs, a red mustang, a beautiful and happy Gwendolyn in his arms, and an evening that instantly stopped being cold. And only the happiest time was waiting for them ahead.

[rogue-barnes-16]

SOMETHING ELSE

Request: May I please have a Roger Taylor imagine where you have really bad anxiety and he doesn’t know but he comes to see you having a panic attack and helps you and lots of fluff???

Pairing: Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader

Genre: angsty fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @serpentwithatardis

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: anxiety attack, some language

A/N: it took me soo long to finish this, I'm really sorry, I'm falling behind due to the exams. Also, I hope you enjoy, and about the rest of the requests, they're coming <3

ROGER'S P. O. V.

Y/n wasn't exactly shy.

She wasn't exactly quiet.

She wasn't exactly distant.

Y/n was something else.

I didn't notice that something the first time Deaky had introduced her to the group as a potential second vocal and piano player. At that moment she was just a melodic voice and a pretty face.

She soon became a member of the band, though, and the more time she spent with us, the better I got to know her, and the clearer it was for me that she was something else.

However, and even though I really tried for a while, we never turned out to be close friends —mostly because she seemed to avoid spending time with me alone—. Maybe she didn't like me that much, maybe I had rubbed her the wrong side.

"That was amazing" I commented when Y/n finished singing her part for Bohemian Rhapsody. "really beautiful"

"Thanks, Roger" she gave me a small smile whilst taking off the headset to give it to Freddie, who was the next to sing. "Your falsetto was very impressive"

"Thank you" I replied, helping Freddie with the microphone. When I turned to look at Y/n again, I saw her putting on her jacket. "Where are you going?" I asked confused.

"Oh, I need some air" she answered, grabbing her cigarette pack, along with a lighter. "too many hours in the studio"

"wait," I walked to the bench to grab my jacket "I'll go with you, I could use some air" before I reached the bench, though, we heard the door shutting and when I turned around, Y/n was nowhere to be found. "I... What the-" I shot a glance at Freddie, who was already looking at me. "why does she always do that?"

"why do you care that much, darling?" Freddie teased with a knowing smile on his face. When I stayed shut instead of replying with a snarky comeback, he let out a chuckle. "she told you, Rog. She needs air, give her a break."

After Freddie's teasing, I realized I really liked Y/n in a way I hadn't liked any girl before. Her amazing self was enough to attract all my attention like a moth drawn to the light.

It was due to the amount of attention I paid to her every day, that I felt terribly disappointed with myself when I finally got to know what was that something else in Y/n.

It was after our first press conference. It was more intense than we expected, and, even though most of the questions were for Freddie, a surprising amount were for Y/n too, related to the fact that she was the only girl in the band.

"Y/n, some people say that John was your boyfriend and that's how you got in the band." I first looked at Deaky and then at Y/n. "is that true?"

"who said that?" she asked, quite confused.

Before the previous reporter could keep talking, another one took their place. "Y/n, it is said that you're not attracted to men, what do you have to say about it?"

"I thought we were here to talk about our music?" Deaky asked, noticing that Y/n was getting uncomfortable.

"are you romantically involved with Roger Taylor?"

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "is there any bloody questions related to our songs?" I growled at the microphone.

"Is it hard to be a girl surrounded by men?"

"are you the one choosing the band's outfits?"

Another deep breath. Y/n rested her forehead against the palm of her hand while her foot tapped fast against the floor.

"do you get jealous when your band mates are seen with groupies?"

"are you open about being with more than one of your band mates?"

"fuckin' hell" her breathy whispered was too quiet for it to reach the microphone in front of her, but it was enough for me to hear it. "fuck fuck fuck fuck-" her breaths turned short and shaky.

"Y/n" I called her name, trying not to seem worried when I saw her eyes shutting and her jaw clenching. "Y/n..." the moment I put a hand on her knees to stop her leg from bouncing, her eyes opened widely.

"Okay, seems to me like you're in the mood to waste your opportunity to interview us" Freddie stated, hitting the table before getting up. "c'mon darlings, let's go"

"Lead the way Freddie" Brian stated, getting up to follow Freddie out of the press conference room. Deaky did the same, and Y/n and I followed him closely, leaving behind us the reporters' protests. "I already hate this part of our job."

"it's only the first" Deaky reminded Brian. "what are you planning on doing when-" he stopped talking when Y/n jogged past us and got into the bathroom. "shit."

"is she Okay?" Brian asked as we stopped walking to stare at the bathroom she had gotten in. "should we wait or...?"

"I... Think we should give her space" Freddie stated, gesturing us to keep moving to the exit. When they realized I wasn't following them, they stopped off once more. "Rog-"

"no" I plainly stated, making my way to the bathroom.

"she needs space" Deaky warned me.

I scoffed.

Space. She needs space. She needs air. She needs to be alone. She needs a moment.

"she needs a bloody friend, John" I retorted, stalking to the toilets' door. "you can go, but I'm staying." before they could reply anything else, I entered the toilets, closing the door behind me. "Y/n?"

I heard her before I saw her, since they were huge toilets.

I heard her gasping for air a couple of times before I rushed towards the noises. "Y/n-" her forehead was resting against the tiles of the wall, her chest going quickly up and down "are you-"

Her legs gave out and she felt on her knees, pressing one of her hands against her chest with her eyes wide open. "I c- I can't... I can't b-breathe" she tried to take a deep breath and she ended up gasping once more. "I-I-I- I'm I ca-"

It suddenly hit me, she was having an anxiety attack.

As soon as I realized that, I kneeled besides her, pulling her forearms for her to face me. "Y/n you have to- try... Try to breath deeply" I tried sounding as calm as possible, not wanting to make it worse with the fact that I was freaking out.

"I c- can't I-I'm sorry I-" she tried to do as I told her but she ended up gasping harder. "My chest hurts! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck"

She attempted to bend over and I made her sit up again, caressing her cheeks "Y/n, love, deep breaths okay? It's- it'll be over soon. Just- just take deep breaths" I moved closer to her, and, not knowing what else to do to calm her, I pulled to my chest.

"I can't-" she repeated, this time letting out a frustrated sob. "I'm sorry- I'm- I c- I'm sorry" she gripped the hems of my partially open shirt, attempting to hold onto something.

"You're gonna be okay" I whispered, rubbing circles on her back and trying to pull her even closer to me, something that was proven impossible when we only ended up almost lying on the floor. "it's just a moment, you'll be okay. Can you try to br-" she nudged her face against my chest and I couldn't feel her fresh tears on my bare skin, which made my heart break. "can you... Try to breathe deeply again?"

She nodded and I let one of my hands comb her hair. "o-okay... J-just... I-" she shifted slightly to rest only her forehead against my chest, before starting to take slow breaths.

I planted a kiss on the crown of her hair while she finally managed to slow down her breathing to an average rhythm. "see? You're okay" I whispered, letting her exhausted body rest over mine.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled, loosening the grip on my shirt. "I'm really sorry... It's been a while since I had one as strong as this one."

I stayed in silence, processing what she had just told me, before speaking. "you... You have... Anxiety?" She nodded against my chest, not daring to look at me. "why didn't you tell us."

"I... Deaky knows" she whispered, shifting her position when I moved us to rest against the cold wall. "but I asked not to tell you all." she sighed. "I thought I had it under control. I didn't want you to see me... D-different?"

I moved her to be able to face her. "different as if... Fragile" she nodded at my guess, shunning my gaze. "Y/n? Does... Do you avoid me because of this?"

"I don't avoid-"

"you do" I argued, rapidly regretting it when I saw her shying away from me. "I'm sorry- this- this isn't the moment to talk about it, I'm sorry" I apologized raising my hands in surrender. "I just- I... Fuck I shouldn't be saying this but I- I really like you"

"I-" she opened her mouth a couple of times before she spoke. "I know... Freddie told me" I opened my eyes widely, feeling my cheeks reddening. "Sorry"

"fuck... See?" I questioned passing both my hands over my face. "I shouldn't have said anything, I knew you were avoiding me. I'm sorry... Can we pretend this didn't happen?" I dared to look at her and I saw her with her lips parted and her eyes dug into my form, making me blush even harder because bloody hell, she was so beautiful.

"You're blushing"

"I know, can you not say it out loud?" I groaned, covering my face once more. "shit." I felt her hands tugging mine, moving then away from my face before her lips brushed against mines. "what..."

"I didn't want you to deal with... This" she said, letting go of my hands, only for me to hold hers. "that's why I... Was avoiding you. That's also why I didn't say anything. Also because I don't think I'm your type and you're-"

"my type?" she whispered a doubtful 'yes' while my hands moved to hold her hips, rubbing circles with my thumbs over them. "I've never liked a girl the way I like you, Y/n. I don't know what's my type, but you for sure are above all that shit" it was her time to blush. "If you want to try... I'm down for it."

She started to chew her lower lip and I leaded one of my thumbs to her lips, to stop her from doing that. "I mean... Even with the anxiety thing?"

"yeah"

"well then..." she inhaled deeply before nodding. "okay. We can try... Because I really want to."

A smile former on my lips and I leaned on, capturing her lips on another kiss. "thanks for giving me a chance" I whispered, looking at her eyes.

She smiled back and rested her forehead against my chest once again, this time feeling peaceful instead of distressed.

[leoninapelliolovesconchitawurst]

ENGLISH TRANSLATION (by me)

Wurst in the old FM4 Studio

Photo by Lukas Lottersberger

"I am both Conchita and WURST."

By Daniela Derntl

https://fm4.orf.at/stories/2995448/

Songcontest winner Tom Neuwirth has on his new album "T.O.M. - Truth Over Magnitude quasi reinvented "as WURST. Instead of Conchita's glamorous diva ballads, evening gowns and wigs, there's now danceable electro-pop, vinyl, leather and sex. A conversation about the new record, self-discovery, the jurors activity on "Queen of Drags" and the upcoming tour.

FM4: Recently your new record "T.O.M. - Truth Over Magnitude "came out. And that's also your debut album for your new project WURST. The CD has been out for a few weeks. How were the reactions?

WURST: The reactions were very positive. I think I was the least nervous. Probably the people around me a little more, because you do not know if that happens or not. I was extremely pleased that what was happening was understood , and the music is also liked. I love this album, I can hear it up and down, which is not so obvious to me. I'm more of the category: I do not look and listen to my own stuff. But I love this album!

FM4: Which song is on Heavy Rotation right now?

WURST: Currently it's "Can’t Come Back" because I'm going to perform live soon, in a very special cast. And that's why I have to listen to it a bit, so I know the text. It's always a story with the text. Sometimes I like to improvise.

FM4: I also wanted to talk to you about this song anyway. Because it is interesting that you speak now also as WURST in dialect, and before as Conchita only spoke High German. Are there any other entrances when singing? Because in this just mentioned "Can’t Come Back", you also sound quite different, especially at the beginning of the song.

WURST: I sing so deeply, like never before, and that's actually not that easy. So to intonate is a challenge. But that's also a point of this album that I can really show my full range. And also show a bandwidth that I did not even know I had.

WURST about the start of the new project

FM4: When was it clear to you that Conchita could not go on like that - and you have to change. When was the starting signal for the new project?

WURST: The starting signal came after the decision that things could not go on like this. I think - quite banal - when I got up, and was no longer happy and had no mood for anything. I put that on for a few months, and I thought, yes, that will be all right. But it did not happen again. And then I dealt with myself. Then I also started talking therapy because I thought I could not go on alone, I seemed to need a new input somehow. That helped me a lot. And then I also really understood that I am responsible for my own life and I cannot fool around and say: They do not understand me. And they did not understand me. No! I did not understand it anymore and that's why I had to do something new.

FM4: What other insights have you got there, especially on the artistic path?

WURST: First and foremost, I looked closely at my ego and thought about how I go through the world and how to deal with people. Whether I'm really as fabulous as I think? And unfortunately we are not all! (laughs) We hurt people with our behaviour, and seeing and accepting that in its entirety has given me, I believe, this freedom boost to do something where nobody would have said, yes! Electropop! Great idea! And with that freedom it was ‘wurst’ (not important) for me. I did not care, I just had to do it, and then it all happened.

WURST about working with Eva Klampfer and Albin Janoska

FM4: So you had to go through a dark tunnel and then, together with songwriter Eva Klampfer aka Lylit and producer Albin Janoska, saw a light together at the end of the tunnel? Can one say that?

WURST: Definitely! I have wandered through many songwriting camps in recent years. Unsuccessful, because I'm not terribly talented when it comes to it. And then, by some coincidence, Severin Trogbacher, who plays the guitar in my band and is also my band leader, introduced me to Albin Janoska. And Albin says: Would you like to work with Eva? And I thought, that is not possible. You travel all over Europe to somehow write songs, and then they're all sitting there waiting.

FM4: Albin Janoska maybe known from Count Basic ...

WURST: He also produces Count Basic and son. You listen to the record, and understand what it's all about!

FM4: Eva Klampfer aka Lylit wrote the songs for you. And I've read - and I'm asking you now if that's true - that the character WURST was created while working on the album. So it was not clear at the beginning who the songs would be written for now?

WURST: Exactly! Eva and I have talked a lot about who this is for now. What is my name? Is that somehow okay? Actually, some songs were finished and I knew that "Trash All The Glam" would be the first single. That was the moment we sat together and kind of wondered what the video might look like. And I'm a very visual person and it just came suddenly. We went on location scouting and we just saw this shot that I was driving down the escalator, and then I said: There must be WURST in red letters like an exit sign. That was a moment when everything was clear to me. That's it: I'm both Conchita and WURST. It's so absurd, if you think about it in hindsight. It all happened to me by accident. But that's me. I love kitsch and pomp, and all the madness that the show business brings with it, but I like it a bit rude, simpler, clearer and without much frills.

WURST has reconciled with Conchita

FM4: You've reconciled yourself to Conchita through this metamorphosis? Can you say that?

WURST: Yes. In fact, I almost fell into the same trap again, because at the beginning of the project WURST I thought to myself: Now there are no high heels and wigs anymore, and the look is that, and blah. And then I'm like this: Oh wow! I'm doing the same thing again as I did before and restricting myself again. Of course, then came this TV show "Queen Of Drags" where it was all about showing all facets. Then I painted myself, and thought: Oh, there she is! And she is more beautiful than ever! And I think I did not get away from the mirror for half an hour because I thought: Oh yes! (Laughing). I love it!

WURST about his future plans

FM4: I have the impression that your metamorphosis is far from complete. You have a lot more sides, people, maybe even a whole ensemble in the quiver?

WURST: Yes, I also believe that there is still something in me that I do not yet know about. I also do not think that for ever and ever I'll just "stay in the music" under quotes. I also want to design sets, I also want to do fashion, I want to be a director and scream at actors. I want to write a musical about my life, because the boy from the mountains who wins the song contest is like "Sound Of Music". Sorry! And that's the way it will sound (laughs). Of course I'm wondering what the next one might be because the album is out now and I'm going on tour with it next year. I'm looking forward to it, but I do not want a standstill. I stir around a bit ...

WURST about "Queen Of Drags"

FM4: You're now also a juror on the new German TV show "Queen Of Drags", and there it hails from the queer community criticism of your co-juror Heidi Klum, because she has nothing to do with Queer and Drag. You clearly defend your colleague. But it's pretty much off, right?

WURST: Yes, fully. For one thing, I think everyone has an opinion. Hey, awesome! What this outcry from the community has just shown is that your character does not depend on your sexual orientation, because this community wants so much inclusion and understanding, and then somehow that does not work out. I find that a bit contradictory now. Yes, of course, there are not only fans of Heidi Klum, and I did not know her before either, and I have to say that this collaboration was just easy. And she was fully aware that it was somehow controversial, and she was just so respectful and so inside, asking questions without end, just wanting to be a part of it. I think that when it comes to judging candidates, we've always wanted to judge whether they're getting better. Because I would like to have all these ten Queens have a career after that and live on it. And I would like to give them what I have already learned.

FM4: Drag culture is also about body positivity. And that's just Heidi Klum as an executioner of "Germanys Next Top Model" not necessarily the right thing for something?

WURST: Yes, "Germanys Next Top Model" is a completely different format. And absolutely right there was a body awareness that was mediated, which is definitely not healthy. But even in this program, there was a learning process that has seen over the last few years.

WURST about pink-washing

FM4: Another reproach on the show was also the so-called "Pink Washing". So that now a broadcaster and a presenter who otherwise have nothing to do with this queer culture and scene capitalize on it. And you're almost the queer fig leaf on the whole. What do you say?

WURST: That's an absolutely legitimate comment. I want to say that I use it as well. Because I did not know Heidi before either, but she gives us the best slot on one of the biggest private channels to show what the queer community has on it to show people what's left. Of course! Excuse me! I get it - pinkwashing, et cetera. But I also take advantage of it to show how cool it is to be casual with each other, and how great it is to be supported. And how great it is when everyone can just be what he wants to be. And I love that too on this show. It works like nothing else. But when it comes down to it, keep it together. And I think that's exactly what it's about!

WURST about the Eurosonic Festival

FM4: Let's talk about your upcoming tour. In January you play at the Eurosonic Festival in Groningen, and that's a showcase festival for newcomers. And you're not really a newcomer anymore! But how is it for you to start from the beginning? Smaller halls to play, maybe not so many amenities to have. What is it like for you playing at a newcomer festival?

WURST: I think it's so cool that I'm allowed to get involved with the cool kids, and of course I'm really looking forward to this festival because it's something new for me. I do not know this kind of festival. Especially not as an artist. And I do not know the audience. And that's why I feel like a newcomer. But I'm no longer a newcomer in that sense, I realize. But I said it aloud, and now everyone believes it! (Laughing).

WURST about the concerts in Poland

FM4: No one believes you! It will also be exciting for you at the beginning of February, as you will play twice in Poland, in Warsaw and in Krakow. And the head of the Polish governing party PIS this year has declared homosexuals and transgender people to be "enemies of the state". So you can only be there with massive protective measures and safety precautions. How are you doing there? On the one hand you want to set a signal, on the other hand it is not without danger.

WURST: Yes, on the one hand, I am a pretty unconscious lamb when it comes to that, because in my opinion I always see only the good. I once had personal security for 24 hours when I was in St. Petersburg. That feels weird. I do not know if it will be the case in Poland. I do not want to sound cynical, but I - as such a public person - already have some protection because of this publicity, because if anything should happen then it would attract a lot of attention. And that's why I may not see my safety in the foreground right now. I'm just happy that I can play there for my fans, because I have so many from the East, and I just want to have a great time with them!

FM4: Thanks for the interview and all the best!

[bandficsunlimited]

Floral & Fading (Pierce The Veil Fanfiction)

(This was the first band slash PTV fanfic that I’ve ever made, so please forgive me if it’s terrible and nonsensical and not what you really expected.)

"D-d-d-darker now, kicked out and sleeping in your car, you rolled the window down, enough to dream and make-believe..."

"That's it, stop it! Pierce...whatever, you're outta here! Go on, we're closed! Everybody out! You're wrecking the place!"

The harsh reprimand of the bowling alley owner rang out, exasperated and palpably angry, and Jaime could perfectly and very much tell why.

Standing in the carnage of musical instruments and debris of bowling equipment alike, their band sign hanging off on one corner with half already in shards on the floor, holding splintered parts of what used to be a bass guitar, and staring at a rowdy crowd that had been shoving and pushing at each other the entire time, the owner's rage towards the sheepish band was easily understandable.

Jaime wasn't sure how Pierce the Veil was allotted to perform here in the first place, considering that their post-hardcore music wasn't really the appropriate ambiance to a bowling alley, and they were forced to wear such weird clothes (Mike laughed at his older brother's atrocious green floral shirt that he fished out of his dad's closet for ten minutes straight), and the owner didn't even know what the hell their band name was ("He announced it with the enthusiasm of a vendor selling tacos in a deserted place under the torpor heat of the summer Mexico sun", Jaime observed. "Oh great, now I want tacos", another voice inside his head complained), but all he knew for certain was that this was quite unexpected.

"For a bunch of people living in '69, these guys sure do party hard." Jaime thought, uttering a low whistle as he surveyed the wreckage of the chaotic room.

Not only had he and his bandmates completely trashed the place, they also managed to influence the people to join in with it as well, and what once was a group of peaceful weekend bowling players had turned into youth-crazy moshers that threw articles of intimate clothing, allowed crowdsurfing and mosh pits, nearly ripped the band members apart (two of them tore out their drummer's sleeves, "but," Jaime internally snickered, "with Mike's big guns, who freakin' wouldn't?"), poured juice punch on each other (Jaime could see a girl smiling at them wryly without a care of the sticky beverage that dripped and coloured her hair a vivid blue), pulled the fire alarms and lit up their lighters inside the place, and ultimately ("and most importantly", Jaime noted), they enjoyed and allowed themselves to lose control to their music.

"So all in all, not a bad gig." Jaime concluded with a satisfied grin. He looked over to Vic, Mike, and Tony, all exhausted, sweaty, and holding destroyed instruments alike, but also with the same enthused smiles lighted up on their faces.

Celebratory high fives were passed around the band members, but before Jaime could give one to an expectant Tony, the owner's stern face emerged in front of them, his nostrils flared and his voluminous belly rising up and down steadily, smoke appearing to come out of his ears, startling the band out of their gregarious reverie.

"You damn brats, still happy about wrecking this place. I regret ever knowin' your name. No you boys better get out of here before I get you a damn good whacking to and slam your sorry little asses in jail!" The owner threatened, waving at them the remaining microphone stand that was still actually standing and almost tripping on the wires in the process.

"Sooooo...does this mean we don't get paid?" Vic asked innocently, a cute charming smile emblazoned on his face, doe eyes wide and sparkly, every uttered word in the sentence dripping with sass. Behind him, Jaime chuckled audibly, Tony grinned so wide it seemed the corners of his lips would split open, and Mike covered his mouth with one heavily-tattooed hand to stifle his laughter.

The owner only glared at them poisonously, radiating nothing but sheer hate and venom out of his eyes, and shoved them all out of the way, causing a little domino effect to the band and nearly tripping on the wire yet again, as he muttered various colourful profanities, most likely endowing the worst curses known to man and monsters upon the Mexicans. He shook his meaty fist once more before going past the outbalanced band members, and grabbed a broom to commence cleaning up the mess that they made.

"Great gig. Great time. Great job, guys." Mike praised his fellow band members, as they packed up and salvaged what little they can from their smashed equipment, but not before he added a grim "We still need money to buy new instruments though, and since Vic here killed off any chance of us getting paid, well..."

"Thank you Mike, that reeeeaaally boosted our morale." Tony replied sardonically with a laugh.

Vic, pretending to be hurt, indignantly glared at his younger brother with a sulking pout. "We weren't getting paid anyways, Mikey. It didn't hurt to ask."

"Hey, hey, I'm just kidding bro. Hell, I don't blame you anyways. I've always wanted to wreck the living shit out of my drums! I mean, who doesn't? It's the adrenaline, man, it gets you. This was awesome, you guys. P-T-V!" Mike ranted on happily, as they all cheered out in enthusiastic replies of "Wooooh!"

"Well, I take it that's a wrap?" Vic quipped cheekily. He was answered with an affirming chorus of "Oh yeah", "Guess so", and from Jaime, accompanied with an audibly rumbling stomach, "Anyone else also craving tacos right now?"

Jaime's out-of-place remark and hunger pangs gave Vic an idea for a fun little prank. He acted all excited, suddenly pointed out to a random corner, and shouted "Hey look Jaime, a taco stand giving food away for free!"

"Where?!" As Jaime's head frantically whipped to face where Vic was pointing, Vic glanced furtively at Tony and made silent finger motions, signaling for him to trip up Jaime. Tony understood immediately, and he surreptitiously crouched behind Jaime and positioned himself by his feet, waiting for the right moment.

"Oh, you know, it's just there Hime, if you'd just, like, I don't know, back up a little, maybe you'd see clearer or something, y'know..." Mike improvised, buying for time, and Vic facepalmed behind Jaime's back and mouthed "That didn't make sense bro." to him.

But despite Mike's lame assurances, Jaime still obediently obliged with his instructions and ambled a step backward. His legs caught on the crouching turtle by his legs, and he began to topple backfirst, arms thrashing about wildly as he tried to break his fall.

"Gotcha again, Jaime!" Vic said triumphantly, earning him victorious high fives and rounds of raucous laughter from Mike and Tony.

But due to unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances, Jaime's head accidentally contacted a nearby bowling ball (ironically, it was the yellow one that he tossed at one of Mike's drums earlier and nearly hit Tony), and he heard a sickening crack, as Vic, Tony, and Mike's laughs instantly dissipated and they immediately rushed to his side.

Jaime felt himself losing consciousness quickly, and his vision blurred and faded as he saw his friends' concerned faces looming over him, Vic frantically waving a hand to his face and calling out his name.

"Jaime? Jaime??? Jaaaaiiimmeeeeee..."

~*~

Jaime jolted awake at the sound of singing invading his ears, and his eyes fluttered open and he found himself curled up in a couch, his bass guitar cuddled up next to him, a fan-gifted monkey pillow strewn on his stomach, and an abandoned floral pattern notebook lying facedown by his limply-hanging fingertips.

The rest of the band was simply chilling out; Mike lounging next to him as he clutched a coffee mug in one hand and twirled a drumstick in the other, Vic looking at his ink scribbles with a pensive visage and a badly-chewed pen stuck between his teeth, making little vocal warm-ups with their names (at the moment, he was singing out "Hayyyymeeyyyy skunnkkkk"), and Tony softly strumming notes at random on a battered acoustic guitar.

Jaime remembered his dream and his hand immediately shot up to his hair, as if to feel the phantom of a nightmarish afro that never was, and he sighed a little too loudly in relief as he felt only the soft spikes of his hedgehog hair. He rubbed his bleary eyes as he examined the appearances of his fellow bandmates' hairstyles with mingled scepticism and doubt.

Watching this event unfold, the trio's questioning stares immediately pierced (pun very much intended) through the scrutinising Jaime, but it was Vic who asked the question first.

"You okay there, Jaime?" he said, momentarily ceasing with his playful vocal warm-ups, his inquiry slightly garbled by the writing instrument clamped between his mouth.

"Dude, I just had the weirdest dream..." Jaime started.

Mike snorted into his mug at amusement at Jaime's revelation, spinning the drumstick more furiously and throwing it in the air. "Expect Jaime to be so cliche."

Tony glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and retorted "And expect you to be the one breaking the fourth wall." Mike stuck out his tongue at Tony in reply, and he failed to catch the drumstick, the wooden stick clattering noisily on the floor.

But Jaime seemed not to hear them both as he leered at Mike's short hair, hidden under his black beanie, analysed Tony's expertly messed sticky-uppy hair and Key Street cap lying by his side, and finally settled to concentrating and peering at Vic's long and flowing hair as if it was an art exhibit.

Vic finally noticed Jaime's strange stare and stared back with questioning eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that? Something wrong with my hair? Is my hat not on straight? Or do you just not like my hat? Again?" Vic badgered endlessly, his voice taking on a concerned tone, running his hand throughout his head to check for anything weird.

Jaime said nothing to clear things out as he slowly reached out to feel for Vic's hair. Mike took a sip of his drink absentmindedly and flipped his drumstick as he watched blankly, engrossed by the scene, and Tony had an exasperated expression that sighed out a silent "Oh, Jaime, here we go again."

Jaime grabbed one end of Vic's hair and started tugging at it, as if testing for it's legitimacy.

"Ow! Jaime! What the hell?" Vic exclaimed, slapping Jaime's hand away. By coincidence, Tony hit a sour note on the guitar as he was distracted by the unfolding events, making a sound that added for comedic effect.

"Your hair...it's normal." Jaime lamely replied.

Vic squinted in suspicion as he ran his fingers over his locks to fix his hair. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Jaime closed his eyes and nodded in alleviated affirmation. "Oh it's good dude. It's good. It's just, well, just that dream..."

"Well, what dream? Don't keep us in suspense, Hime-time." Vic prompted eagerly, setting down his abused pen and rumpled notebook on the desk and dragging his chair closer to Jaime. Mike and Tony set down the instruments they were holding and leaned in closer to listen in as well.

Jaime sighed extravagantly once again and began to narrate. "It was like...we were having a concert in a frigging bowling alley...you had short hair and a stupid floral shirt...Mike was wearing this nerdy-ass sweater and vest, I don't know what it was...Tony was crowdsurfing on a bunch of weirdly-dressed people...and I had cotton ball for a hair...it was sick though, we smashed our instruments in the end, and oh, I nearly hit Tony with a bowling ball!"

Tony glared at Jaime in mock disdain. "Something you wanna say to me, Jaime?"

"And me! Did you just call my clothes nerdy?" Mike put in indignantly.

"You tripped me up and made me smash my skull on a bowling ball, Tony, so I'd say we're pretty much even. And also Mike, Vic was wearing a long-sleeved green floral pattern shirt and ironed beige pants and stupid hard shoes and he had short hair that looked like it was shaped out of clay, so there." Jaime explained in a flat tone to both offended parties, not missing a beat.

Tony simply made a 'seems legit' face and nodded. "Touche, Preciado."

Mike, on the other hand, stared at his older brother for a couple seconds, as if picturing Vic in the horrible clothes Jaime described, but his should-be bellowing laugh was reduced to a strained snort as Vic glared back at him venomously with a look that said "Don't you dare Michael."

Jaime carried on with his story gracelessly as he fumbled for the words, unable to describe the dream properly. "Anyways, it was just—I don't know, but it was like...a time travel or something...I don't know man...it was 1969!" He finally declared. Mike couldn't hold in his laughter anymore at the final part, and he began to double over laughing, strained wheeze escaping his throat like a squeaky balloon losing air.

"Aw dude, did you just marathon Back To The Future...again? Look, I know you wanna be the next Mexican Marty McFly, and we support that dream of yours, even if you don't look too good in bodywarmers, but...that's just askin' for it." Vic sympathetically apprehended with a little shake of his head. His maternal and disappointed tone of voice made Tony crack up, and Vic finally dropped his stern parent act and joined in with the mirth.

"But it was! I swear! 1969! A lady! Threw her bra at me!" Jaime punctuated almost pleadingly, his voice drowned out by the chaos of laughter.

His hysterical bandmates only laughed even harder at the bra throwing part, and Vic had to jump out of his seat and whack his younger brother in the back with immense force because he promptly choked on his drink, as the slapstick-looking act made Tony's smile grow impossibly wider.

"Yeah right, like that would ever happen. Keep on dreaming, Jaime." Vic deadpan quipped with a pokerfaced expression. Jaime finally stopped sulking and succumbed to the contagious hilarity and sheer ludicrousness of it all, dimples popping up as his laugh echoed the loudest inside the room.

After everyone had calmed down and managed to catch their breath, the place was filled with silent contentment and lingering traces of entertained expressions on their faces. Mike went to the kitchen to place his mug in the sink (but accidentally brought the drumstick with the mug instead of the spoon, which made for a very interesting story later on at band practice, when he accidentally ripped the skin off his snare drum with the metal utensil), Tony returned to fiddling with his guitar as he quietly played Dammit by Blink-182, and Vic held his pen and paper once again, but before he turned away to continue writing, he said softly to Jaime, this time with an earnest smile.

"Keep on dreaming, Jaime."

"Our lights knocked out, turned upside-down, I'm just a stupid motherfucker, can't figure it out."