#gotta pull up the old setlists

[thekidsare-not-alright]

me getting off work at 5pm on a fob concert night, opening all my fall out boy twitter/tumblr/setlistfm/discord tabs, about to think about nothing else for 6 hours:

[louisisalarrie]

What do you think of the current setlist for the festival performances? Do you think it's as bad as solos are saying?

solos can eat my ass like their fave does to harry

(sorry, that was crude, wasn’t it? hahaha im just mad that solos are getting mad about louis’ setlist)

so, let’s talk about it once and for all. anon, welcome to the show!

alrighty, so, let’s start off with having a squiz at the harry.

harry sticks with one cover, WMYB, at the end of every show (prior to encore). during LOT last year, when he was in Denmark in May, he did a snippet of BSE and also the entirety of Stockholm Syndrome, and he has previously done SOML once or twice. He has also sang If I Could Fly a bunch of times, which his solos thought was his song and not a 1d song which is just hilarious. anyway, his fans always carry on like “he reinvents the covers!!!! he only does one usually!!! 1d was his thing!!!” anyway.

the thing is, is that harry is bigger. he has bigger hits, and more of them. But more importantly, he has a wider fanbase demographic that doesn’t require him to perform 1d covers because a lot of his fans don’t stem from the 1d days. they learnt about him through his solo music alone. now… radio play obviously has a massive effect on that (which we know louis isn’t getting), but, why are Louis solos so angry about him playing 1d covers?

weeeellllll

look. it comes down to what all louis fans want, which is for him to keep playing bigger stages and doing bigger tours and solidifying his solo presence and career in the wider industry. but his career is different to Harry’s. he had to find his footing and part of that is pulling in people who know 1d (they were literally the biggest band in the world) and so they can already connect him to that, and then hear his own personal music. “Former 1d star” gets more clicks than “louis Tomlinson” when people have no idea of his name. even people who used to be casual 1d fans back in the day, but aren’t part of the scene now, will connect the first headline far quicker than the second. So it’s all about interconnection and recognition and association that dings the lightbulb for people and encourage further digging.

And this becomes even more important when performing at a festival in front of people who haven’t heard your name before/aren’t a fan. It gives him, like, almost name cred ya know? Like “hey I was in a band that conquered the world, and I’m still out here doing shit, I’m not another washed up ex boyband member, I’ve got my own name and my own sound and I also wrote the majority of 1d’s discography” ya feel? Which is something I also don’t get about solos. Like… louis wrote those songs. He’s proud of those songs. Why should he not sing them?

anyway, I get it, I do. We all wanna see louis play his whole discography, and share that and build more fans from there. We love his music, we wanna see those tracks that we love live on stage. But, he’s gonna play 1d covers because he wrote them, he loves them, and it helps with his footing.

Robbie Williams who was in Take That, Justin Timberlake who was in NSYNC (who have just done a reunion show!!) and a bunch more ex boyband, or ex regular band members, continue to do covers of their old music for so many reasons. But also, they continue to do these covers for their fans. Their older fans, who watched them grow and listened to this music in real time be released and nostalgia and… it should be celebrated of a time that they created this music and memories with fans.

Mind you, artists do this because they want to. There’s no critical binding clause in their contracts saying they have to do a cover of their old band, there’s nothing saying they have to do this only in countries where people don’t know their name as well, there’s no one holding a gun to louis’ head and saying “bro you gotta play three 1d songs or you’re fired”. At the end of the day, he curates his setlist for what he wants to play, what he thinks the fans will love, and what he thinks will encourage people to enjoy his sets and dig into his other music. He doesn’t owe any of us anything.

So, if we move on from 1d covers and talk about Catfish and Post Malone, it again, pulls that recognition in. However, it can make him seem a little unsure of himself and his faith in the music he writes. Which isn’t the case, like, Harry does covers from different artists, but just not as often as Louis, it would seem. I think particularly at his own shows, louis doesn’t need to do 7, 505, or Chemical or whatever else, because the people are there for him. 7 is loud and we love it and I would never discourage him from that hahaha, but I do find chemical to be kinda meh (I’m not a posty fan, mind you), and unnecessary. But, again, he doesn’t owe us shit and can sing whatever he wants and feels right. It seems like he’s in a much more secure place right now, so it’ll be interesting to see where his set lists take him in the future, but yeah. I don’t see it necessary to do a cover from a different artist at every show, but definitely encourage 1d covers at every show (and not just because I’m an ot5, but because he clearly loves it and for all the reasons I’ve already said above).

So I guess, before I keep on nonsensically rambling, I’ll break this down simply:

Do I think louis should keep doing 1d covers? Yes.

Do I think Louis should keep doing non-1d covers? If he wants to, but it’s not necessary anymore.

Do I think it’s a smart career move to include 1d covers? Yes

Do I think doing 4 covers out of a 13 song setlist at a festival is overkill? Kiiiiind of… I think he could’ve stuck with 2 or 3 max, 4 is a lot and can take away from his original music.

Do I think louis leans on covers to help his nerves? Not so much anymore, but it can be seen as somewhat of a crutch if he does a bunch of them (a bunch meaning anything more than 3).

Do I think Louis owes us anything? No.

Would I love to see louis perform all his songs that he hasn’t performed before instead of covers? Sure thing!

Am I bothered that he plays covers? Absolutely not.

Do other artists of varying calibre (including Harry) play songs of their past ventures and other artists’ music? Yes.

Do solos need to take a good hard look at themselves and get a grip because supporting their fave artist should also include supporting their choices of setlist and their prior bands (regardless of a dislike for said prior band)? Yes.

Am I saying that solos need to love 1d/1d covers? No, but they need to respect it because that’s how louis came to be himself today.

Is larry real? Yes.

Can solos suck it? Also yes.

[catb-fics]

I think there's gotta be more to it than the curfew. Maybe they didn't like the arrangement or there was an issue with the instruments or something? If it was just a timing problem they could have got rid of an old song to make sure they still played Showtime, its their big comeback single. I saw the picture of the setlist on Reddit and it looks like it was planned to be between Sidetrack & Homesick 👀

Do you mean like technical issues? It’s hard to say isn’t it? You would think they’d pull an old song like Business out which is pretty long live rather than their debut comeback single. I just hope they change it up a bit for Cardiff but then we know the setlist often doesn’t change so idk 🤷‍♀️

This setlist was pretty ambitious for a 90 minute set so I guess it was probably expected they wouldn’t fit everything in.

[ohblackdiamond]

black and gold (kiss/endgame crossover, part 18 of ?)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

Prequel to “the end of the world tour.” Four ex-bandmates and even-more-ex-superheroes reunite in the aftermath of Thanos’ snap, and attempt to adjust.

In this chapter: “I’m Gene. This is Paul. You feel like taking a couple Jews out of the wilderness, Moses?” Paul and Gene bum a ride on their journey to Peter's house, and Paul faces an uncomfortable conversation with Ace and a worrisome dream.

Paul sang himself completely hoarse. Kept on like it was a setlist. “Get Off of My Cloud.” “Come a Little Bit Closer.” “Bus Stop.” “Daydream.” “Maggie May.” “Friday on My Mind.” Gene was surprised he didn’t try for any Beatles songs, but maybe those were just too stark a reminder.

“‘I’m gonna have fun in the city, I’ll be with my girl, she’s so pretty…’”

“Paul, you’re gonna kill your voice.”

“I did that a long time ago.” He was already barely able to speak, that reedy, cracked quality to his voice even worse than normal. Gene thought back, unwillingly, to all those times thirty-odd years ago, hearing Paul belt out annoying warm-ups in the dressing room. How much he’d wished Paul would just shut the fuck up back then. The reality of having had to witness his decline was so much worse. “It’s okay.”

But he did stop after that. The rest of the walk to the gas station, Gene tried to fill with conversation and comments that Paul mostly only nodded or shook his head at. He could only get out a few short, raspy responses every so often. Gene felt more grounded now. More able. Paul had propped him up. Made him stable again.

He expected to spend hours waiting at the gas station, leaning heavily against an old payphone, watching the cars fill up and drive away. There was no real food inside the station itself, unsurprisingly, and so he finished off one of the lunches as he stood there. His legs and right arm were already painfully sore. He’d barely be able to move tomorrow morning; he knew it. Paul hadn’t really complained, but Gene had caught him rubbing his arm and shoulder off and on the times they’d stopped to rest. Paul was sitting down in front of the payphone, legs crossed, one arm around his luggage. He was smiling at every single car that pulled up, every person that got out to get gas, like he thought it was ’78. He was still barely able to talk, so Gene was doing that for him, a dozen of the same lines, like a preacher’s tract. Excuse-me. We-need-a-ride. Just-to-the-nearest-car-dealership. We’ll-pay-you. Nothing but stares and headshakes. It was getting closer to dark before they ever got a nod.

“Sure.” It was a kid. Maybe Nick’s age at best, but no older. His hair was in a bushy Afro. Gene’s gaze dove down to his worn-out sneakers, then over to his car, a puke-green Celica with the paint wearing off the hood. “How much?”

“Two hundred.” Then, quickly-- “I’ll… I’ll have a check sent after, too.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“It’s gotta be an open dealership,” Gene added. “Don’t screw us over here.”

“I’m not screwing you over.” The kid stuck out his hand. Gene took it. “I’m Moses.”

“I’m Gene. This is Paul. You feel like taking a couple Jews out of the wilderness, Moses?”

“You got some definition of wilderness, man. Get in.”

Gene was more nervous than he wanted to let on as they climbed inside. If Moses did strand them somewhere, even in the car lot, they’d probably still be able to regroup from there. It would just take awhile. The big problems were going to be if they-- 

“You got a place for a charger?” Paul had read his mind. Paul’s voice sounded like two pieces of sandpaper getting rubbed together. He could tell that the kid hadn’t even understood what Paul had said. 

“Charger?” Gene repeated for him, and Moses waved vaguely at the Frankensteined plug set-ups below the radio. There was an iphone charger already there--  Paul reached over from his seat in the back to plug Gene’s phone in. One thing down.

“Where are you headed, anyway?”

“Connecticut.”

Moses whistled. He turned on the radio, turned on his own phone, googling around for dealerships, before pulling out of the gas station. 

It was a mostly-silent trip. The radio reports were the only interruption. The military had been deployed to help with relief efforts and what the report kindly termed as deescalations. Most, if not all, major cities were being razed and looted. They were going to put price ceilings on gas. Gene remembered what Paul had said about seventies inflation, way back in Maury and Charlotte’s RV, and swallowed thickly.

“I thought Hurricane Katrina was bad,” Moses finally said, changing the station. “I didn’t know what bad was, huh?”

“You must’ve been a kid then.”

Moses shrugged and didn’t elaborate. It was two hours before he managed to pull into an open dealership. The place looked crummy, nothing like the dealership Paul and Gene had stepped into just a few days ago, to take the lunches from-- but the lights were on inside, and there were a handful of vehicles in the lot.

“We’ve got it from here,” Gene assured, digging in his wallet. Paul unplugged the phone. “Thanks. Gimme your address for the rest.”

“I don’t need the rest.” Moses said, pocketing the two hundred.

“You sure? Kid, I saw apples go for ten bucks apiece. I wouldn’t turn down--”

“I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But--”

“I know who you are, man. I can’t charge you extra. It’d be like charging Superman for a taxi.” Moses’ expression was distant. “Nah, you go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

“Be real careful, okay? You’re only halfway there.”

-- 

Hey, Ace

Ace: Gene?

No this is Paul. Sorry

Ace: What did you do about the car?

We left it. We bought another one

Ace: How much?

Eighty grand.

Ace: What is it?

A pickup truck

Ace: Are you fucking kidding

No

Ace: What year is it

1988

Manual transmission too

Ace: Jesus Christ you got fucked over which one of you paid for it

Gene did

Ace: Didn’t you try to haggle?

It was the only one left in the lot

Ace:  Jesus Christ. Can Gene drive a manual

What do you think

Ace: You screwed yourselves over, you got shitty gas mileage now

Ace, shut up.

Ace: Eighty grand is a down payment on a Bentley

Ace, shut the fuck up

Ace: Paul seriously let me talk to you. I’m calling now

Against his better judgment, Paul answered the phone. His voice was cracking on every third word, and his throat felt like it was on fire. None of that was new to him-- none of that had been new to him in years after overextending himself-- but it just felt worse now, that was all. He didn’t regret singing for Gene at all; he just hated what he was contending with in the aftermath. And he hated, too, the worry that he’d just wrecked himself even further past repair than before. 

“Ace, I really don’t wanna hear it–”

“You sound like shit,” Ace said shortly. “What happened?”

Paul cleared his throat. It didn’t help at all.

“I might’ve performed.”

“For who?” Ace paused, not waiting on Paul to respond before changing tacks. “Look, that truck’s just gonna slow you down. If Gene can’t drive a manual–”

“Gene can barely drive an automatic.”

“--then the whole damn trip is up to you.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You’re gonna have a real bad time. I… look, man, I’d try and meet you part of the way over, but I don’t think I can.”

Paul couldn’t really blame him at all. He asked anyway.

“Why not?”

“People are raiding houses. Anyplace you leave behind, even for a little while, you come back and it’s completely ransacked if you’re lucky. Squatters if you’re not.” Ace exhaled. “I don’t want to leave Peter here alone. He’s doing really bad, Paul.”

“Nobody’s doing really good right now.”

“Don’t strain yourself. You sound fucking awful. Gene around?”

“He’s asleep.”

“How’re you for food?”

Telling him not to strain himself, then asking him questions. Paul let out a long breath.

“I think we can make it.”

“You’re pretty damn skinny as it is,” Ace pointed out dryly. “Gene can’t lend you twenty pounds, y’know.”

“We’ll make it.”

“Yeah. I know you will. Still nothing on reaching out to the fans, huh?”

“I wanted to, Gene didn’t. We-- did it on accident anyway.”

“Okay. Hey, Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“You are feeling it, aren’t you? You gotta be. I am. Peter is, I know Peter is--” 

That again. Just when he’d hoped that Ace had let up, that their argument the other day had proved something to him. Apparently not. Apparently Ace was as determined as everyone else to try and resurrect the past.

“Ace, I gotta go. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Paul hung up, plugging up the phone as if it mattered when the truck engine wasn’t running. He’d been well enough aware of the hustling they’d contended with when buying the truck before Ace had bitched him out about it, but it did have one of those cigarette lighter adapters like the one Moses had. And it was red. And it had custom leather seats. And, most importantly, it had been their only option. It had turned out that it was the only automobile in the lot left that hadn’t been vandalized beyond driveability or stolen.

It had been a long time since eighty grand had been a whole lot of money to him, compared to his net worth, but after he hit about thirty or so, unnecessary expenses started to agitate him. Okay, no, twenty-eight was when it first started to bother him, when he’d originally been stuck paying Peter a twenty-five percent cut from a band he was no longer in. It had taken nearly ten years to buy that bastard out of the only smart decision he’d ever made. Thinking about it still burned him up. Peter staying rich off of the sweat of his and Gene’s brows. Only a couple years after he’d been bought out of KISS’ dwindling profits, Peter’d been high and dry.

(paul doesn’t want to talk to me)

Peter was right. Paul never did want to talk to Peter. He didn’t know what he’d say to him once they finally got over there. Paul had not had a resentment-free conversation with Peter since the seventies. Peter was borderline illiterate, a high-school dropout, a guy who’d been living off his wife and fooling around in lousy garage bands before KISS. Peter had always ruined everything. If not for him-- 

If not for him-- 

No. No, he couldn’t think like that right now. Ace couldn’t get him started on that path. He was only thinking this way anyway because of Ace, and because thinking of Peter was easier than thinking of himself and the raspy whisper currently constituting his voice. Already-charted territory, decades of it. And even that was easier, far easier, than thinking of his wife, his children, his sister.

All of whom he could only think about because of Gene. He’d never stop owing Gene. For saving him. For continuing to save him, even though he wasn’t worth it. Even though he was a petty bastard at best. He had only been any good to Gene just lately. Only been able to sing Gene a couple songs. It was the smallest of repayments for his life.

He reclined his seat as much as he could, and closed his eyes, the sound of Gene’s breathing eventually lulling him to sleep.

--

Paul dreamed most nights. He tended to take sleep aids, a profoundly bad habit that had started way back when KISS had shifted from tour buses to flights. Generally, he went with melatonin when he was trying to wean himself off prescription stuff-- but even now, without them, he’d dream. The old standards. Tests for classes he’d never taken. His teeth falling out of his head, or crunching to pieces as he spoke.

That night, he dreamed of her. 

She always looked the same. Long, stick-straight blonde hair, bony wrists, large blue eyes. He had met her in 1972, on the T.V. in his parents’ apartment. A Vitalis commercial. In five years, he’d have her; in six years, she’d be gone. The first real loss of his life. She hadn’t even had a funeral; the rabbi had refused to complete the rites for a suicide.

She always looked the same; he was always his own age, even in dreams. He used to hate that, the way she was always frozen in time while he shifted so profoundly past her. But now it was almost a comfort. The world could be destroyed and she would stay the way he remembered her.

Maybe it was shameful, dreaming of her now. Maybe he’d just kept her in his head because she had died so young, tugging her out of his own subconscious like some sort of symbol to soothe him at all the worst points of his life. Like Paul McCartney’s Mother Mary. That had been Hilsen’s suggestion over the years. But Paul didn’t quite believe that. He had never quite believed that at all.

Now she was sitting next to him in jeans and a sweater, in the bed of their new truck, and he reached for her with weathered, sinewy arms and trembling hands. I’m ninety-three and you’re sixteen, he thought, so briefly. The fucked-up line he’d added to Gene’s longing little ballad. I’m sixty-two and you’re twenty-nine. 

She didn’t reach for him, though his arms wrapped around her, though his head pressed against her shoulder. She never did. 

“There’s a ring for you, if you want it, Paul.”

“A ring?” He sounded better than he had in years. Sounded better, but didn’t look better. He let go of her. He looked at his fingers-- then he looked at hers, both bare. “I don’t understand.”

“A ring. A call. There’s a call if you want it.”

She’d never said that before. Paul wracked his brain, suddenly desperate.

“Do you want me to come back? I can’t. I can’t come with you. Not yet. I will but not yet. Y-you know that, right?”

“There’s a call if you want it.”

“What call?” 

“You have to want it. It’ll be there for you if you want it.”

“What call? What’s there for me? Victoria, tell me, please–”

He woke in a cold sweat, breathing hard. Checked for messages on Gene’s phone. Nothing. Nothing at all.

[angleofmusings]

highlights from the bit/cirecs concert last night (boston 2022-12-10)

this post got really long so i’m sticking it under a read more :D

arriving just before 2 pm for 4:30 doors/5:30 show. yes it was around 30 to 33 °F (-1 to 1 °C) the whole time we were out there

meeting some awesome people who also showed up several hours early :D

making up fake plots for the movie posters outside the venue

successfully convincing people to appreciate cry baby

old soul and nervous dater during each other’s sets

hunter wearing a short skirt and a bears in trees shirt (the koi one) as a tunic over long sleeves, absolute fashion icon

the little bulbasaur on genevieve’s pedalboard !!

*holds up cardboard cutout of keanu reeves’ face* “welcome to the stage keanu reeves!! i have to set him down because i cannot play guitar with him in my hands but just know that he is happy to be here :)” *sets him back down on the stand* *he immediately falls over* (off mic) “oh fuck” (in mic) “sorry keanu. he’ll live.”

lighting design went SO HARD during josslyn (and tbh the entire set)

getting bonked in the head (only a little bit and i was fine lol)

“you’ve got something to apologize for? well you can do that now!”

callum climbing off the stage into the crowd literally right in front of me during heaven sent

“i think it’s way too hot for me to be wearing this boston— boston red sox hat. i’m just going to take it off— i’m not giving it to you, it’s mine— i’m just gonna take it off, but hopefully i, i still represent boston with it off, yeah?” *pulls off beanie to reveal “BOSTON” written on their head*

“anyway, the moral of the story is that, i’m gonna keep going ’cause i gotta stall time while we swap guitars, and the moral of that story is you just gotta keep talking,”

(monotone voice) “do you like our outfits we just love the red sox” *mimes swinging a baseball bat*

callum saying the feel so empty intro one song too early

“now you’re meant to say that thing what’s on the paper” “oh and was that— was it— did you do this?” “i didn’t do it, but i do know what it means— this is an oblivious to everyone because they can’t see what that is” (the like, three people standing at the front between iain and callum, myself included: “we can see it!”) *launches into the feel so empty intro for real this time*

(someone in the audience: “i love you!”) “what was that, did you say you love us? you don’t—” (same person: “i do!”) “we love you too, honestly, because— because this is the biggest show we’ve played outside the UK, ever, and you guys are actually turning up for us, and it’s incredible, ’cause we— we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you guys. so, we owe you guys everything, honestly, thank you so much for being here” (person standing next to me: “we’re so proud of you”) “thank you :)”

splitting the crowd in half during i’m doing push ups to do a call and response sorta thing !!!

iain taking someone’s BeReal from the stage. the notif had gone off like ten hours earlier

“so this next song is about having undiagnosed ADHD! i didn’t know that when i wrote this song” (the audience then is incredibly energetic and singing along super loud during good rhymes for bad times)

“you can’t have an emo show without a bad bit— sad bit”

iain during array of light.

little cellist project!!!

hunter and brooke sneaking into the crowd (right behind us!!) during the encore

“and lastly we’ve said again— we’ve said it before i will say it again— if we weren’t here—” “you weren’t here” “—wait that’s the wrong one innit” “yeah” “if you weren’t here, right now, and we were playing? it would just be a rehearsal”

the whole audience singing the chorus of reverberate, in unison, too early, and the bears looking at us endearingly like wtf

saying hi to the bears afterwards (they signed my tour poster and the setlist !!! and commented that my makeup was matching with iain’s !!!)

[imagineyourworld]

Rockstar AU

Hunter x Genderneutral!Reader (Cinderella Story)  Wrecker x Genderneutral!Reader (Love at First Sight)  Tech x Genderneutral!Reader (Enemies to Lovers)  Crosshair x Genderneutral!Reader (Second Chance Romance) Echo x Genderneutral!Reader (Friends to Lovers) 

Warnings: Slight bit of language, mean fans in the last one 

Hunter

Hunter would for sure be the lead singer

He’d be the one most people simp for, including your friends 

The same friends who dragged you to the concert, and the same friends who abandoned you the next day because they just had to spend the afternoon at the bands known hang out spot to try to meet one of them 

Little did they know that Hunter wasn’t there that afternoon, in fact he had the same plans as you, to spend the day aimlessly wandering the city streets, a new city for you, one you’re just visiting for a few days, and a new home for him, one he still needs to familiarize himself with 

You exist a small café, where you had just gotten yourself a drink, when you first met. In real movie meet cute style you walked right into him and spilled your drink all over his shirt, and the light grey material did little to hide the stains 

“I am so, so sorry”, you said over and over again as you began to search for bag for a tissue to wipe off the worst of it. To your surprise he just chuckled. It was a low and raspy sound, one that sounded somewhat familiar. Only when you stopped your search and actually looked at him did you realize why you knew that chuckle, it was the one your friends had shown you over and over again in a ton of different videos. Just your luck, that you didn’t just spill your drink on anyone, it had to be Hunter from The Bad Batch. 

“I gotta say, this is a new way of meeting fans.”  You raised your eyebrow at his words.  “Who said I was a fan?”  There ist was again, that chuckle. Even though you told yourself that it didn’t affect you, you were only human and couldn’t deny that Hunter was incredibly attractive.  “The look in your eyes. It’s alright, I get it all the time.”  You scoffed. Who did he think he was? He was a singer, not some god.  Based on the expression now overshadowing his face that wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for. 

You apologized once more, even offered to buy him a new shirt, before you made your goodbye and tried to walk past him.  Hunter’s hand on your wrist stopped you. To be honest, you were a second away from janking your wrist from his grasp and asking him who he thought he was, a question that wouldn’t stop running around in your head.  “Before you go, how about you buy me a coffee? You do kinda owe me for ruining my shirt”, he said. Though his words were arrogant, it was his kind, almost joking, tone and the hopeful expression in his eyes that made a small smile appear on your face.  “I don’t know, what’s in it for me?”, you asked, trying to match his tone.  Hunter just shrugged.  “At the very least an interesting conversation.”

Of course it wasn’t the conversation that made you agree, not at first at least. But it did turn out to be good. So good that it made you forget who you were actually talking to, and good enough that by the end you even gave Hunter your number.

When he texted just half an hour after you parted ways, asking you whether you wanted to have dinner the next day, you realized that you would have a lot of explaining to do with your friends. 

Wrecker 

I don’t know why, but I feel like Wrecker might be the guitarist. 

Other than Hunter I don’t think Wrecker would have the biggest fan base, but his fans would be the most dedicated and loyal 

Wrecker would be most likely to date a fan. While he might not be looking for a romantic partner amongst the fans, he does try a bit of flirting here and there if someone catches his eye. 

That’s actually how the two of you met. You had been saving to buy tickets for the concert and the following meet and greet and ever since Wrecker saw you in line his eyes had been glued to you.  “You’re not exactly subtle, you know”, Tech told his brother as he followed his stare.  Wrecker nudged him with his shoulder, which made Tech stumble a bit due to his strength. That’s when he heard it, the one sound that was better than music in his ears.  “That’s not very nice”, you told him with a sly grin. 

Honestly, you had no idea where you were getting your sudden confidence from. You were standing right in front of The Bad Batch and yet here you were, making a joke. 

Embarrassment coursed through Wrecker’s veins, making him rub the back of his head nervously.  “I know. It’s... a bad habit”, he finally admitted.  It was your laugh that told him you weren’t really mad or scolding him at all, and without thought he joined in. Your laugh, if possible, sounded even more beautiful than your voice. 

“What’s your name?”, he asked.  You told him, a small blush making its way to your cheeks. Of course you had expected the band to be friendly, but never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine Wrecker being this kind. And if you weren’t mistaken he was even flirting with you. But that couldn’t be, right? He must have thousands who flirt with him every day, why would he be interested in you of all people?  “(Y/N)”, you told him.  After his next action there was no doubt left in your mind that he actually was flirting.  “(Y/N), Wrecker repeated as he lifted your hand to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.  You didn’t know what to focus on. His soft lips on your skin, the way your hand felt and looked so much smaller in his big hand, or the way he said your name. 

Leave it to Tech to interrupt your little moment.  “You need to move it along, there are others waiting”, he informed his brother.  Of course he was right, of course you shouldn’t expect Wrecker to continue to talk to you when there were others waiting for his attention. But little did you know that letting you go was something Wrecker wouldn’t dream off. “This thing ends in half an hour. If you want to, you don’t have to but if you want to, you can wait for me in the lobby of the Park Hotel in about an hour and we’ll continue this conversation, (Y/N).” 

Part of you knew that there was the possibility that he was only looking for a one night stand, but the bigger part told you that Wrecker was genuinely interested in your company. It was that part that made you agree. And you were so glad you did, because the rest of the night spend with Wrecker couldn’t have been better. Apparently he felt the same, because just before you left he slipped a small note with his number in your pocket. 

Tech

The usual instrument for a band might be drums, but I cannot imagine Tech playing the drums. A keyboard however? That’s so Tech. 

I can’t see Tech dating a fan, but a fellow musician would be a dream come true! There is just one slight issue... 

“I can’t stand that guy! He never stops talking, every time he opens his mouth I just wanna punch his stupid glasses right into his eyes”, you grunted.  Tech had been about to round the corner, in his hands he had the setlist you had requested for your band, which was opening for The Bad Batch.  Now, after hearing those words and realizing that the friendship the two of you had been building had all been fake, that Tech had been right in trying to shove his developing feelings down, he just threw the pieces of paper in front of your feet.  “There”, he grumbled before turning around and leaving again.  You shot your friend, who you had been talking to, a confused look. 

Your band opened for The Bad Batch for a couple more shows before you parted ways. They went back to recording, while you had your first solo tour, which went incredibly well, since only a year later you reunited at a music festival where both bands were asked to play. 

“God, Wrecker, did you grow?”, you laughed while Wrecker enveloped you in a hug and lifted you a few feet into the air.  “I think I’m a bit too old to continue growing, but who knows”, he replied with a grin.  Tech tried his best not to roll his eyes. How could his brothers still be friendly with you? Wasn’t it obvious to them how much you hated him? Wasn’t blood thicker than water?  You moved away from Wrecker to greet Tech next. Your previously joyous smile growing nervous, but it still ignited something Tech wanted to put out.  “Hey, long time no see”, you started. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but before you could Tech took a step backwards, knocking over Hunter’s water bottle.  Tech saw this as his way of escape and quickly offered to get a new one, though Hunter, who knew what he was up to, shook his head.  “Take (Y/N) with you, they know the location better and can show you around.”  Tech wanted to disagree, he really did, but he knew there was no use in arguing with Hunter shortly before the concert. 

You did show Tech around, at least a little bit. You even tried to chat as best as you could, but his answers were reduced to “yes” and “no”, if he even gave you an answer that is.  Finally you reached a small supply closet in which you knew most of the snacks and drinks were kept.  “They have your favourite chocolate, I checked the second I heard you guys were showing up”, you told Tech with a smile, hoping at least your shared love for chocolate would break the ice. It didn’t.  What did break a second later, almost as soon as Tech followed you into the small room, was the door.  With a loud bang it closed behind Tech, and no matter how hard the two of you pushed or pulled, it wouldn’t budge. 

“What now?”, you asked, chewing on a piece of said chocolate.  Tech was just shoving his phone back in his pocket.  “I texted the others, one of them should come around with maintenance in a few minutes.” A moment of silence followed.  “Hey, Tech”, you started softly, nervously. “Why do you hate me?”  Finally Tech tore his eyes away from the water in his hands and looked at you, really looked at you.  “I didn’t hate you until I found out that you hate me. I still don’t hate you, no matter how hard I try-” The last part was mumbled, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, but you did.  “I don’t hate you! Why would you think that? God, Tech, I was starting to fall in love with you during your last tour, but then you suddenly got all cold and never talked to me.”  This made Tech raise his eyebrow. He ran a hand through his hair and avoided eye contact.  “You were?”, he asked, his voice soft before it suddenly hardened again. “Then why did you tell your friend that you wanna punch me?”  Confusion and realization chased each other across your face, finally it dawned on you.  “Tech, you idiot, I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about my neighbour.”  He opened his mouth and closed it again.  “Oh... So, you don’t hate me?”  You shook your head. “In fact, I’d like to take you out to dinner. As a date. If you’d like.”  Of course Tech said yes, there was lost time to catch up on after all. 

Crosshair 

Crosshair might play the drums, it gives him an opportunity to be in the background (and let all his aggressions out)

The two of you had been dating for only a few weeks when he left the band. Afterwards he told you that he needed a bit of space, wanted to be alone for a while. You weren’t exactly happy, but you understood, though when he still hasn’t reached out to you after almost two months you decided to give him a call, only to find out that his number had been disconnected. 

It wasn’t until a couple of years later that the two of you met again. It was actually your friend who pointed Crosshair out in the crowded café and encouraged you to talk to him, to find out why he had ghosted you instead of simply breaking up.  

“Why did you ghost me instead of simply breaking up with me?”, you opened, having stolen your friend’s exact words.  Crosshair, with sunglasses and the usual toothpick between his teeth, looked up from his phone. His face didn’t betray any emotions, but you knew him well enough to recognize a hint of shock in his eyes.  “What are you doing here?”  You didn’t answer, instead you pulled up the chair opposite of his and sat down at his table.  “I asked you first.”  There it was, that laugh you had first learned to love and later to hate. It wasn’t a mocking or cruel laugh, instead it reminded you of his reaction whenever you would do something he found cute.  “How old are you?  You rested your elbows on the table and glared at him, a look that you knew from experience was one of the few things to truly make him uncomfortable.  “Old enough to be tired of your bullshit. Now answer my question.” 

Crosshair had never been a man of many words, his answer just proved that all over again.  “I wanted to start my new life without any baggage from the old one.”  Even though you had been hurt after the initial breakup, you considered yourself to be stronger because of it and over Crosshair, but his statement hit you hard.  “Is that what I was? Baggage?”  Finally he reached up to take the sunglasses off and really look at you. You hated the part of your brain that thought that he still looked good, and as if this conversation didn’t affect him at all.  “You didn’t let me finish. I never thought of you as baggage, but you were a connection to my old life, my old band, that I couldn’t take with me into my new life. But I soon realized that I made a mistake, you were more than a connection, it only occured to me after it was too late that I loved you.” 

To say you were shocked was the understatement of the century. Of course you had liked Crosshair, but even back then you couldn’t say whether you were actually in love with him.  “I know I messed up, but maybe we could meet for dinner and try again.”  Those were the last words from the longest monologue you had ever heard him speak. Crosshair put his sunglasses on again and left without another word, though he did leave something behind. You picked the piece of paper up and realized that he had given you his new number, the number you would only have to call to rekindle your relationship, but was that what you really wanted after what he did? 

Echo 

No doubt, Echo plays the base. It’s the backbone of a band and often underestimated, just like Echo. 

The poor guy’s start with The Bad Batch wasn’t the easiest, he joined the band shortly before Crosshair left and many fans thought he was the reason behind the split (which of course he wasn’t, but you know fans). Needless to say that this resulted in some trust issues. 

You had been working for the band for what felt like ages, basically from the very beginning and the second you met Echo you were intrigued. It took a bit of time, but he finally started to open up to you and now the two of you were good friends, you were actually one of the few friends Echo had outside of the band. 

Though one day your friendship was put to the test.  You were backstage, in Echo’s private room, which on itself wasn’t unusual, you spend more time with him than any other band members. What was unusual, and made Echo stop in the doorway, was the fact that you were going through his mail.  “What are you doing?”, he asked, not yet angry, but not exactly calm either.  He could have sworn that you actually jumped in shock before you turned to face him, guilt written all over you.  “Echo, I was just...”  “Going through my mail?”, he finished the sentence for you.  You knew there was no use in lying, so you simply nodded.  “Why?” 

The million dollar question, to which you knew the answer would hurt Echo, and possibly your relationship.  “I was looking for fan mail.”  A gentle smile was now on Echo’s lips. He stepped closer to you, so close that he could take the envelope you were holding out of your hand.  “You’re doing a terrific job, but I don’t think you get any fan mail, especially not send to my room.”  As if to prove his point he opened the first envelope and started reading. At first his expression didn’t change, then it darkened. Before he could finish you ripped the piece of paper away and threw it in a far corner of the room.  “Is that what you were looking for? Hate mail?”  You knew there was no sense in denying it any longer.  “I’ve been trying to hide it from you, but you get a lot of letters like that. Everyone gets them once in a while, but ever since Crosshair left it’s been a lot.” Echo’s eyes flitted from your face to the letters you were still holding in your hand.  “You’ve been doing that all this time? Why?”  For some reason the obvious shock and disbelief in his voice broke you more than any words directed at him ever had.  “I don’t want you to take what those idiots say to heart. You... You’re perfect just the way you are”, you told him, whispering the last part.  Echo stepped even closer to you, so close that you could feel his body heat through both of your clothes. So close that you had to lift your head to continue looking him in the eyes.  Slowly Echo took your chin in his hand, his thumb caressing your jaw. The other hand found its way around your waist and you cold feel the cold prosthetic through your thin shirt.  “I think you’re perfect as well”, he whispered.  Your eyes widened at his words. He had heard you, and he thought you were perfect. Perfect!  “Echo, I-”, you started, but he interrupted you.  “Since we’re both perfect, maybe we’d be perfect for each other.” A blush crept up his neck as he said those words. You reached up to wrap your arms around the reddening skin.  “Maybe we could find out over dinner tonight.”  Echo smiled at you, a smile that made you question how anyone could hate him for what had to be the millionth time.  “I’d like that”, he said as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

-------

This AU just popped into my head and I had to write it down. At first I wanted to make the 501st a band, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with Anakin and Ahsoka in that scenario, but then it occured to me that the Bad Batch as a band would fit even better, I hope you agree. 

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: It would be really cool if you could do a library AU! Maybe one of them works at a library and they keep running into each other or something.

I have been unbelievably excited to write this one, I’m so happy I’ve finally got around to it! This is where my mind went as soon as I read the prompt, I really hope you enjoy it! (If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for a part 2 I’d be more than happy to do that once I reopen requests.)

Featuring he/they Willie because I really need to include that headcanon in my writing more often. Willie’s pronouns alternate throughout.

Books on Boards

Usually it was Reggie whose excuses began with “In my defence…”

“In my defence, I couldn’t see where I was going… In my defence, I forgot water and electricity don’t mix… In my defence, if Luke didn’t want to be shot with a Nerf gun then he shouldn’t have been standing in my way…”

Sometimes it was Luke.

“In my defence, no one told me not to… In my defence, I didn’t realise it could go this horribly wrong… In my defence, I did try to do it properly and I don’t know how it blew up…”

On rare occasion, it was Julie.

“In my defence, I was a little lost in my own head… In my defence, I’m terrible at comebacks… In my defence, I have an extremely annoying boyfriend and he was trying to talk to me about our new setlist the whole time which was very distracting…”

But it was never Alex.

Until now.

“In my defence,” Alex began, raising a hand and talking over Julie, Luke, and Reggie’s shouts, “I have to go to the library a lot. I’m an English major and it’s where all the books are!”

“But you don’t need to be at the library for five hours a day,” Luke countered.

Alex sighed. He had a point, and Alex had no excuse this time. Well, that wasn’t strictly true – his excuse was an adorable library assistant who just so happened to be very friendly to Alex and, by some miracle, worked whenever Alex needed to study. But he couldn’t just admit that to his friends, each of whom was staring at him with flat disbelief.

The assistant’s name was Willie and he was simply wonderful. The first time Alex had met him had been right at the start of his first semester – he had never been to the university’s library before and it was bigger than the one at Alexandria, so he was unbelievably lost. Alex had half-convinced himself that he would be stuck there forever, doomed to wander between the shelves looking for the section he needed, eventually becoming a ghost and haunting the place, still trying to locate his books.

Enter Willie. They had scared Alex half to death – in Alex’s defence, he hadn’t expected to be knocked off his feet by someone on a skateboard in the middle of a library the size of Buckingham Palace. And yet, he had landed on the floor, flat on his face and winded, understandably startled. As he scrambled to his feet, he heard his assailant exclaim, “Aw… you dinged my board!”

Alex had started to berate him but stopped in his tracks when he looked at the guy and realised that he had been knocked to the floor by a literal angel. His long dark hair was majestically swept to one side and tucked behind his ear, his soft eyes were sparkling, and he had a lopsided smile on his face despite the fact that Alex had been shouting at him just a second earlier (well, whisper-shouting at him – they were in a library, after all).

“Sorry,” they had said, picking up their board. “I didn’t see you there. Books were in the way.” He had pointed to a heap of books now strewn across the floor, some splayed open, some with ripped pages. Alex realised that he had been carrying the books stacked up in front of him, skating along with them.

“Oh!” Alex exclaimed, bending down to help pick the books up. “No, sorry, it’s fine. I was just stood there. I’m a little lost, no problem, my fault.”

Together they had stacked the books back up, and Willie heaved the stack onto a nearby table before introducing himself. Alex did the same, shaking Willie’s hand and trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach – he couldn’t let himself get distracted by a cute guy with a skateboard, not while he still had all his books to find in the labyrinthine library.

“So,” Willie had said conversationally, leaning back against the table. “You said you were lost? Anything specific you need to find?”

Alex dug around in his fanny pack before pulling out the list he’d scribbled down. “Yeah, all of these. Do you know where they are?”

“I’d be a pretty terrible librarian if I didn’t,” Willie chuckled. At Alex’s bewildered look, he had raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m not a terrible librarian. I’m actually really good at it. I mean, I don’t usually knock over customers, but these things happen.”

“Oh,” Alex said, clocking on too late. It made sense – of course that was why Willie had been carrying so many books, he was a librarian. Alex didn’t know how he hadn’t guessed before. “Right, I get it, because of the books and the… Right, okay. What about the, uh… the skateboard?”

Willie had picked up their board, smiled at it fondly. “It helps me get around faster. This place is huge, man, you don’t seriously expect me to walk around it all day? Anyway, come with me, I’ll take you to those books.”

That had been five weeks ago.

It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Willie was incredibly cute. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Willie’s shifts happened to perfectly align with his studying time. But he couldn’t deny that it was his fault that he had stayed there for hours on end every day since, talking to Willie about everything and nothing. And it was also his fault that he had done that very same thing today, checked his watch and seen that he was an hour late for band practise, and kept talking to Willie anyway.

Usually, Alex thought about consequences, but he had been having so much fun talking to Willie that day that he hadn’t considered them. Now those consequences had caught up with him in the form of one very angry rock band.

“Alex,” Luke said imploringly, “you’ve got to get your head in the game! We have a load of gigs coming up, really important ones–”

“We do?” Reggie interrupted, looking baffled. “I thought we’ve got that one at the old folks’ home and then that’s it for, like, a month?”

Luke waved him away. “That’s not the point. These gigs are just as important as any big ones. Dude, we’ve got to build up our repertoire so that we can start playing bigger venues, but that’s not going to happen if our drummer is too caught up in his studies!”

Alex inwardly sighed with relief. At least Luke thought the reason he was staying at the library so often was because he was working hard, not because he was talking to Willie. He would have preferred his tiny little crush on Willie stayed secret for a little longer; whenever Luke found out that Alex or Reggie liked someone, he became unbearable.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if Julie had other ideas.

She huffed an incredulous laugh, saying, “You seriously think he’s staying late because he’s studying?”

Luke nodded, confused, as Reggie gestured to Alex and said, “Of course he is, what other reason could there be?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, nodding. He knew that the hitch in his voice was unconvincing – in his defence, he’d never been a good liar. “What other reason could there be?”

Julie raised a challenging eyebrow, but the smirk on her face told Alex that she knew she had already won. “Alex, can I just ask, who was working at the library today?”

Alex cleared his throat and tried for nonchalance when he said, “Willie.”

“You mean the good-looking skater-boy history major, right?” Julie said slyly.

Alex shrugged. “Yeah. I guess he is those things.”

Julie nodded slowly. Luke and Reggie were watching the interaction carefully, though it didn’t seem like the realisation had dawned on either of them yet.

“And who was working last Friday when you didn’t arrive back here until almost ten p.m.?” Julie asked.

“Willie,” Alex said under his breath, avoiding eye contact.

“Right,” Julie replied. “And what about Tuesday when you missed three lectures and were smiling too much to even care about how much that’ll drop your grade?”

Alex scowled and didn’t say anything. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the answer, and judging by the ‘O’ shape Reggie’s mouth was making and the wide grin that had made itself at home on Luke’s face, they had figured it out too.

“Bro,” Luke said excitedly, “you’ve got a crush on Willie!”

“No,” Alex spluttered, “no, I do not. We just happen to get on really well and he’s always working when I need to study.”

“But he is the reason you’re always there, isn’t he?” Reggie prompted.

Alex shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Luke leapt up, clamped his hands onto Alex’s shoulders and jumped up and down like an over-excited puppy. The ecstatic smile on Luke’s face didn’t quite make up for how annoying it was.

“Dude,” he said emphatically, “you’ve gotta ask him out!”

“Don’t be silly,” Alex said, shaking his head, “it’s not like that.”

“It’s like that,” Julie, Luke and Reggie chorused. Alex just rolled his eyes.

“Look, Alex,” Julie said. He looked past Luke to her, but only because in situations like this she tended to be the voice of reason. “I actually agree with Luke.”

Apparently, that day she was taking a break from being the voice of reason.

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Julie interrupted him. “Hear me out. No matter what you say, you’re clearly head over heels for this guy. And it is distracting you – we’re two hours into rehearsal and you haven’t even set up your kit. If you ask him out and he says yes then you can hang out with him at other times as boyfriends, not when you’re meant to be spending time with us. If he says no, you can get him out of your mind and move on, getting your mind back on the band. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Again, Alex tried to respond, but this time Reggie and Luke both yelled over him.

“No!” Reggie shouted. “We agreed never to ask him that question again!”

“Have you forgotten last time?” Luke questioned furiously. “That was the longest three hours of my life!”

Julie held her hands up. “Sorry, sorry, it slipped my mind.”

“Okay,” Alex said, ignoring them and deciding to get the conversation back on track. “Even if I did do that, there’s so many things that could go wrong. I don’t know if he’s into guys, and if he says no for any reason at all then I can never go back to the library.”

Luke shook his head. “Dude, Willie’s the head of the university’s LGBTQ+ Society and he introduces himself as ‘Willie, he/they, gay’ at the start of each session.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been a couple of times. Hey, wait, we should all go, it’s actually super chill and–”

“It sounds great, Luke, but we’ll talk about it later,” Julie said, easily calming him as he started getting over-excited again. “Right now we have other things to focus on. Alex, if Luke’s right then Willie is definitely into guys. And from the way you’ve gushed about him and your conversations without realising it, I’d say he definitely has a thing for you. And he seems cool – I’m sure even if he said no then he’d act completely normally around you.”

“Yeah,” Reggie agreed, “the guy doesn’t find anything awkward. Last week I was looking through a book for my psychology class and just as I flicked to a… questionable page, he came up behind me. He just laughed it off and then offered to sign it out for me once I was done looking through it.”

Alex thought about it for a moment. It sounded too good to be true. Luke said that Willie was into guys, Julie said they might like Alex, Reggie said that they’d be cool with it no matter what… Good things like this didn’t happen to Alex too often.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. The others sighed, Reggie throwing up his hands with exasperation. “I will! I’ll think. But we should get to rehearsing.”

Almost two and a half hours later than they should have, the band finally set up their instruments and Alex counted them in.

*

He was at the library. Again. He was always at the library these days, just this time he really did need to be working. He had a big assessment coming up and needed to cram some last-minute studying in.

It would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t been trying to avoid Willie the entire time.

In Alex’s defence, it felt like the most reasonable option. Sure, he could see Willie and ask him out, but if Willie rejected him then he wasn’t sure he’d ever live it down despite his friends’ reassurances. He could have seen Willie and not asked him out, but then he’d be living in constant wonder of what could happen. So he had elected to do the sensible thing and just not see them at all.

It had been going well for the most part. His legs were beginning to ache from springing himself behind bookcases whenever he caught a glimpse of Willie, but it was worth it. Besides – he needed to focus, and an angelic librarian wasn’t about to help him do that.

He made his fatal error when trying to exit the library.

He had been so caught up in scanning the surrounding area for Willie that he hadn’t been looking ahead, or down at the floor. He heard the shout of, “Watch out!” too late.

Alex stepped forward, his foot landed on a skateboard, and he was sent flying down to the ground, landing hard on his coccyx. Pain shot up his back and he let out an agonised groan which earned him a “Shhhh!” from a tired-looking student sat at the nearest table.

“Alex,” came the same voice who had shouted the warning, the voice Alex now recognised as Willie’s. So much for avoiding him. Willie came and crouched down beside Alex where he was still laying on the floor, leaning over him, looking concerned. “Hey, Alex, you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my board lying there, I was only restocking that shelf.”

Groaning, Alex eased himself into a sitting position. Willie sat back, still looking worried.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex lied. His coccyx was killing him. “It’s fine. I won’t sue or demand you get fired or anything.”

Willie chuckled lightly and then held out his hand. Alex took it automatically and was a little startled when Willie began pulling him to his feet – maybe it was the shock, but he had thought the hand holding was them simply having a moment. But no, of course it was too good to be true. Willie let go of his hand the moment they were both stood and then bent to pick up his board.

“I hadn’t seen you,” Willie said. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

Alex shrugged. “Oh, nowhere. Just… doing my English work. In the quiet area.”

Nodding, Willie replied with something that made Alex’s blood run cold.

“That’s cool. It’s just that I was just talking to Luke a minute ago and he said there was something you wanted to ask me?”

Eyes wide, jaw open in shock, Alex looked behind Willie to where they had pointed. Sure enough, standing by the end of a nearby bookcase with his nose in a book (which he was clearly not reading because it was upside down) was Luke. He gave Alex a nervous wave when he saw him looking.

Trying not to sound murderous, Alex said, “Yeah. There was something.”

He realised too late that hadn’t been what he was planning to say.

“Yeah? What is it?” Willie asked with a smile.

Alex’s eyes darted from Willie to Luke and back again, then up to the ceiling and around the library for inspiration, and then they landed on his own wrist and the rainbow bracelet wrapped around it.

“I – well, we, me and my friends – we were wondering if there would be any space for us to join the LGBTQ+ Society. Luke mentioned you’re the head so I figured there’s no one better to ask than you. Right?”

Willie blinked, face faltering for just a moment. Alex tried not to panic – had he said the wrong thing, had he somehow offended Willie? But the look was gone quick enough for Alex to convince himself he’d imagined it, replaced by his radiant smile.

“Yeah, the more the merrier,” he said. But then he cleared his throat and added, “You’re sure that’s it?”

Swallowing nervously, Alex cast another glance to Luke who had given up the pretence of reading and was now urgently gesturing at Willie, making kissy faces, and mouthing words Alex couldn’t understand – but he got the message.

“Okay, no, there was one more thing,” he said quietly.

Willie tucked his hair behind his ear and Alex’s eyes caught momentarily on his earring.

“I was wondering,” he began, slow but steady, “if you would… by any chance… And you can say no, I won’t be offended! It’s just, I would really like to go on a date with you. And if you would like to go on a date with me then I think we should. Do that. Go on a date. Together. If you want?”

As awkward as it felt, Alex maintained eye contact – he was glad he did, because a moment later Willie’s face split in a beautiful grin that didn’t look mocking or apologetic, it looked genuinely happy.

“Yes,” Willie said, laughing quietly. “Yes, I do want that.”

Alex sighed with relief. “Thank god. I’m going to kill Luke.”

“Don’t,” Willie said, shaking his head. “I can’t have you getting arrested before I get to go on a date with you.”

“What about after the date?” Alex joked.

“Yeah, man, that’s fine.” Willie laughed but after a moment their expression softened. “I’m really glad you asked. I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.”

Alex scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah. That’s the same reason it took me so long to do the actual asking.”

“Well,” said Willie, “that doesn’t matter now. Does Friday work for you?”

Alex’s only form of a social life was hanging out with the band, and his plans for Friday consisted largely of sitting in his and Reggie’s shared dorm room, eating cold pizza and watching reruns of Friends.

“Yeah,” he said coolly, “I can probably make it work. Might have to reschedule some stuff, but it’ll be worth it.”

Clearly not believing him but polite enough not to call him out, Willie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. My shift finishes at five that day, I’ll let you be a gentleman and pick me up. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll catch you then, Alex.”

“See you,” Alex said.

Willie walked away and was seamlessly replaced by Luke, who gripped Alex’s arms and shook him up and down. “Bro! You got a date with Willie! You can thank me later.”

Alex left the library, Luke trailing behind him. “I’m not thanking you,” he said, fighting a smile.

“Why not? I got him to come talk to you!”

“You didn’t ask him out, I did that. There’s nothing to thank you for.”

“That is where you’re very much wrong because…”

As Luke went on for a solid ten minutes about why Alex and Willie finally agreeing to go on a date was actually all down to him, Alex zoned out and let himself be happy. He had a date with Willie, the angelic librarian, the good-looking skater-boy history major. He couldn’t believe his luck.

When they arrived back at the studio, Julie smirked and said, “You’re grinning like an idiot, Alex.”

“In my defence,” he returned, “I'm going on a date with Willie.”

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[the-lady-writes-what]

Swing

1920′s Gangster AU

You're working one night at the club, singing on stage, when you catch the eye of dangerous yet handsome man. You can't help yourself when he sweeps your off your feet for the night and shows you more pleasure than you ever imagined.

Content: one instance of hair pulling and spanking, doggie style, voyeurism (if you squint), praise, a hint of fluff

                                                        ---080---

The air was choked by cigarette smoke, cheap booze, and lilac perfume. The syrupy-sweet fragrance stung the most. It was like huffing a can of hairspray that faintly smelled like flowers. You put up with the perfume and cloying cigarette smoke and a myriad of other things because of one vital thing. Money. You needed it. There was no other way to survive. In the world of bootleggers, gangsters, and smugglers, you were just a girl with a mic and love of music. You worked hard to earn your current position, starting from the bottom as one of those cigar girls parading around the club. It wasn't easy, either. If the boss hadn't just so happened to hear you singing to yourself as you helped clear out the dishes in the kitchen, you wouldn't be getting ready to go on stage.

The stage was a simple affair built with just enough space for you, a piano, and several sax and clarinet players. Your spotlights were dingy yellowish beams with only enough power to shine on one person on stage. Considering you were typically the prettiest thing on stage, the spotlight always shined on you. The curtains were still tied off either because nobody wanted to bother giving you the special entrance of a dramatically raised curtain. Besides, the curtains were little more than glorified rugs hung from the rafters. They smelled of dust and old cigar smoke, and you had to concentrate on not sneezing through your whole set.

You looked out from around the stage, but could hardly see anything through the haze of smoke. Nobody seemed to care or notice the clouds of cigarette smoke. Glasses clinked with boot-legged alcohol and laughter resounded in the air. Small tongues of the fire flickered in and out of the smoke, and another cigarette was sparked into life. You scrunched your nose up at the smell and looked down at your dress. Though it was a new number in your favorite color, you hated that it was coming home with your smelling of the club, and you couldn't afford dry cleaning. You berated yourself for not keeping it at home and wear a dress that you didn't mind smelling like cheap booze and cigar smoke. Oh well, too late now.

Your boss Toshinori complimented your 'wise' choice at the clingy chiffon that hugged your curves. He didn't say that in so many words, but you knew what he was thinking. At first, your brows furrowed at his words. Toshinori sweated up a storm and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. When you asked what the matter was, his face turned white as a sheet. Toshinori refused to say at first, however threatening to not go on stage made him reconsider. After your boss explained the situation, you wished that you hadn't asked in the first place. Now, you were suffering from an overpopulation of butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes glued themselves to the front entrance through which Toshinori's guests of honor were supposed to arrive. Assuming they weren't being tailed by the police or a rival gang.

However, the second you thought this, you chuckled. Rival gang? Like anyone would be stupid or crazy enough to go against Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa and his highly competent lieutenants, Present Mic and Midnight. Most of those who tried ended up in coffins. No wonder Toshinori looked like he was ready to give up the ghost.

It was ten minutes before showtime when you heard a bustle of activity at the front entrance. From where you stood on the stage, half-hiding behind the curtain, you barely saw the doors burst open. At first, you thought it could be the coppers come to shut down the bar and start passing around silver bracelets. Your eyes were glued on the trio entering the club. The blonde on the right wore a black and silver three-piece with his jacket unbuttoned, and his white leather shoes shined. The lady on the left wore a white double-breasted suit jacket and matching skirt. Her whole outfit was designed to show off her ample chest and long legs to distract from the fact that she twirled a knife in her hands like a child's toy. But these characters held little interest to you because your eyes were fixed on the man walking in the middle.

He wore a dark gray three-piece and a black coat that hung off his shoulders like a king's royal cape. Like you, his eyes were half-hidden behind a curtain of dark hair and the shadows of a black fedora. He walked with his hands in his pockets and with the air of someone who couldn't be touched. The man owned the room, and every set of eyeballs in it. Drinking and laughter died when he entered. Toshinori appeared scurrying out of his office as if told at the last minute that they arrived. He continued to wipe his drenched forehead with his handkerchief. He directed the trio to a booth, which faced the stage directly. You watched your boss bow profusely from the waist. The trio that just entered sat too far away from you to be able to hear. Exactly how they walked in, the blonde man sat on the right, the lady on the left, and the powerful individual with the black fedora sat in between them. You couldn't stop staring.

You glanced at the woman in the middle one's left. You swore you'd seen her somewhere before, but couldn't quite place it. It's rude to stare, yet you couldn't help yourself. Your hands fisted the old velvet curtains. Were these the people Toshinori invited to the club? The woman on the left noticed you staring. Before you could retreat, she locked eyes on you and winked. A boulder fell into your stomach.

You realized just where you saw her before at the club a couple weeks ago. The woman appeared to be a chatty, flirty customer but otherwise harmless.

"That's Nemuri "Midnight" Kayama. Second lieutenant to Eraserhead."

You jumped out of your skin at the sound of your pianist, Hitoshi, talking behind you.

"W-what? Her? But I thought—"

"That Midnight was a man? Don't let her looks fool you. I heard that she once highjacked a police van and helped the convicts inside escape."

"Then, who are the other guys?" You might have been better off not knowing, yet your curiosity got the better of you.

"The one on the right is Hizashi "Present Mic" Yamada. They say he's robbed every bank from here to New York. Thing is, nobody can pin them on him despite his boasting. He's loud, but he gets the job done."

"That means," you swallowed, "The one in the middle is…"

"Yup," said Hitoshi. "That's Eraserhead. The kingpin of this city. You see that scar? That's the only thing he got after fighting off the Shigaraki group a couple years ago. The man's quirk can erase his opponent's, so long as he doesn't blink."

Your legs turned to pudding. That man, oh, how you wished you could tear your eyes away. You rubbed your thighs. Something wet made your legs stick together; you hoped you were just nervously sweating and hadn't creamed yourself only by looking at the man. He was a bit shorter than the gigantic figure newspapers made him out to be, although not by many margins. With all of that black and the dark suit, Eraserhead made an imposing—if not terrifying—figure. Despite the dark material, you could still see the defined muscle rippling beneath the clothes he wore. He hadn't yet taken off his coat and hat, and it made you wonder if he was playing on leaving soon. His lieutenants appeared to be making themselves comfortable by ordering food and drink. However, their boss seemed less inclined to follow. All he got was a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Eraserhead served himself after testing the brand. Testing the taste or for poison, he left it to your imagination to choose which.

"I wouldn't get close if were you, Y/N. Eraserhead's got a thing for cute little ladies like you. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of his affection if I wanted to play safe," said Hitoshi.

"I-I can handle myself," you replied.

Even you didn't believe a word you said.

The first set started off like any other night. You looked past Eraserhead's table, trying not to make eye contact. You decided not to look at him, but that didn't stop Eraserhead from looking at 'you.' The whole time you performed to Hitoshi's piano accompaniment, you felt eyes burning a hole into your gut. It was like staring down the barrel of a shotgun. The worse part was you didn't know when it would go off. You stumbled once or twice through the setlist. Thankfully, hardly anyone noticed thanks to the sax and piano. You scanned over the crowds and quickly passed over that table set in the middle of the club. Harder than you thought because all you wanted to do that evening was to lock eyes with that dangerous man.

By the end of your second set, you were thirsty and not necessarily for water. You managed to escape walking past Eraserhead's table and made your way to the bar. You ordered two shot glasses for yourself. The bartender, Shoto, didn't offer any remarks but got you your drinks. You downed them before the ice began to melt. The alcohol didn't do anything to alieve the weight tied to your neck. Each second you were on stage, it was harder for you to focus on 'not' looking at him. Your gaze kept getting too close to looking at him. It didn't matter if it was rude. You weren't about to get yourself mixed up with mobsters, even handsome ones.

"May I buy your next round?"

You almost did a spit take on Shoto's pristine bar counter. Slowly, you turned to find Eraserhead. He was without his great big black coat and looking far more casual than before. You swallowed past the hard lump that formed in your throat.

"I-I gotta get back to work. I'm only allowed two drinks a night while I'm working."

Eraserhead's dark brow shot upwards. Curious, he asked, "Toshinori lets you drink on the job?"

You shrugged. "Two drinks isn't enough to get me tipsy, and a spot of liquid courage now and then helps."

You almost looked at his face. Quickly, you cast your eyes down. Eraserhead takes one step towards you. His form looms over you like a shadow, and his hand reaches out. You didn't know what you were expecting, but you certainly didn't expect him to cup your chin between his finger and thumb. Eraserhead tilted your chin up. You felt his free hand lean against the back of your stool, inches from you. You could feel him looking down at you. After the pressure in your belly grew to be too much, your eyelids fluttered open.

Your face turned red as a tomato looking up at him. Up close and personal, Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa was much more impressive from this angle. He was a bit scruffy, but the stubble on his face made him appear more….manly? No, that wasn't quite right. Even if he shaved, you would have never mistaken him as not being so. Every movement he made screamed of power and control. Eraserhead moved like a wildcat in the jungle. You wouldn't know the predator was watching you until it was too late. No, no, his scruffy-looking face added something a bit more. He couldn't be lazy, not with the way he dressed. Without his black coat, Eraserhead's body looked bigger. You gawked at how big his arms looked this close to him.

"If you're going to stare, at least stare at my face. Some might consider you rude," said Eraserhead.

You fixed your eyes on his face at the suggestion. It was a hypnotic pull that made you look at him the way he wanted you to. Who were you to tell him no? This was especially so when the sound of his low-timber voice made your legs quake and heat pool in your lower belly. Though tired-looking, Eraserhead's gaze never left yours. It was the same pair of eyes you felt staring at you all night. Performing made it easier to forget that he'd been watching you the moment you set foot. He's why your voice cracked once or twice while you were trying not to think about him. Your stomach quivered. Eraserhead had yet to take his hand or his eyes off you. His presence was starting to become unnerving.

"What are your plans for the evening?"

"Well, uh, I have to get back on stage eventually."

"The pianist sounds competent and talented enough to carry on without you," said Eraserhead.

Before you knew it, you were being led by Eraserhead through the front entrance. Toshinori saw and tried to protest until one of Eraserhead's lieutenants, Present Mic, handed him a fat stack of cash, which quickly shut him up. Eraserhead's coat almost swallowed you as he put it on your shoulders. His hand sat at your waist, and his thumb drew infinite circles on your hip. Midnight got into the car behind Eraserhead's while you, Present Mic, and the kingpin climbed into another. Both vehicles had personal drivers while you sat in the spacious back of the limo. You were seated next to Eraserhead, obviously, and Present Mic took the seat that faced you. You wished he'd instead have taken the passenger seat up front with the driver. Eraserhead didn't make it easy for you. Not with his hand still on your waist and rubbing circles into your hip. Present Mic rolled down the windows by a little just to let out some smoke from his fresh cigarette.

You'd be content with staring at your feet if it hadn't been for Eraserhead. His hand wandered down to your thigh. Heat rushed to your face. Your eyes first snapped up to look at Present Mic, who was looking out the window and blowing clouds of smoke into the air as they drove. Then, you cautioned a glance at your host. His nonchalant mask gave you goosebumps.

"E-Eraser…"

"Even if he was paying attention," Eraserhead whispered next to your ear, "It wouldn't matter. He's not interested in young ladies. I wouldn't show off like this in front of 'em if he wasn't."

He kissed your temple. Eraserhead's hand moved no higher than the meaty part of your thigh. You could have been grateful for that if you weren't so conflicted. You wanted him to shift his hand under your chiffon dress and tease off your garters. In contrast, another part wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle out of sheer embarrassment. His thumb continued to draw circles into your skin over the fabric.

You jolted in your seat when Eraserhead's teeth grazed the lobe of your ear.

"And…call me, Shouta," he demanded.

It would be hard for you to remember that considering his name sounded so much like your coworker's at the club. Eraserhead—Shouta gripped your hip and pulled you even closer to him. With his hand on you like that made escape impossible also if you wanted to. Lips caressed the side of your neck to send goosebumps over your skin.

"S-Shouta!" You whined.

You tried not to look at the man sitting across from you who suddenly found his fingernails to be so exciting. Present Mic didn't appear interested in you. But somebody was.

A finger trailed under your dress's skirt and up your inner thigh, edging dangerously close to your undergarments. Shouta toyed with the lace trim as if you two didn't have an audience. He continued to kiss and lick the side of your neck and relishing in the warmth spreading over your face. Shouta's caresses caused you to shudder under his touch. A bead of sweat ran down your face. Shouta lapped it up with his tongue before it reached your jaw.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you, Doll Face," Shouta murmured against your ear.

Shouta kissed your neck, shoulders, and even your hands. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the need for friction between them. Present Mic seemed the least bit interested in what his boss was doing to you. In fact, he played it so nonchalantly that he insisted on talking business around you. There was nothing in the conversation that would put you in danger, but you were intelligent enough to get the gist. During the ride, Shouta stopped kissed you all over and kept his hand on your hip. The trip lasted for another half hour, you guessed before the vehicle came to a full stop. Present Mic left the car, went around, and opened the other door. Shouta helped you out because your legs wouldn't have been able to carry you on their own.

You craned your neck as you approached the mansion set before your eyes. You knew that Shouta—Eraserhead—had a lot of money; you just didn't realize how much. You walked across a gravel path leading up to a columned portico. With his hand on your lower back, Shouta leads you inside. His coat was taken up by a butler along with your shawl and hat. You followed Shouta upstairs. You were shaking head to toe in anticipation. You passed several doors before you came to the biggest one, a set of green doors plated with gold-leaf. Shouta opened it and called for a bottle of champagne to his room. You set your purse aside on a chest of drawers and sat down on the settee. Shouta made himself comfortable by removing his jacket, vest, and bowtie. When the champagne arrived, Shouta answered the door himself and handed you a glass. You sipped as he sat next to you and resumed his previous kissing activity wherever he pleased.

You had trouble holding your glass and avoiding spilling any of the expensive alcohol. You and Shouta drank until the tips of both your noses were red. You set aside your empty glass to wrap your hands behind his neck. Your lips touched his with tenderness and licked him. Shouta gave you open access to his mouth and pressed his hand on the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your soft moans were swallowed up in the kiss. Hands trailed down each other's bodies, but Shouta managed to find the buttons on the back of your dress. He popped them open one at a time. You knew he finished when you felt the warmth of the fire grazing your spine. Shouta gave you a kiss that made your head spin. He nibbled on your bottom lip, took it into his mouth, and sucked softly. When he let you go, Shouta looked at you and pinned you with a heavy-loaded gaze.

"Undress for me."

You blinked, unsure you heard him correctly. Surely a man like the infamous gangster Eraserhead would have his women and strip them too. His hand raked up the back of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your carefully curled hair. Shouta kissed the base of your throat. Looking up, he said, "Don't make me repeat myself, my dear."

Slowly, you nodded. Shouta released you and leaned into the settee. You rose from your seat and made to stand in front of him. Shouta had down half the work for you. All you had to do was pulled the straps down and let gravity do most of the work. A simple task such as that did nothing to keep your hands from shaking. Your hands trembled as you reached for the straps. One at a time, you slipped them off your shoulders. Shouta's eyes never left you and traveled downward as you dragged the dress off your body inch by inch. You shimmied it out of the way and stepped out of pooling on the floor.

Your silk combinations must have caught his attention as Shouta couldn't take his eyes off your undergarments. You wore a cheap waist-cincher with a built-in garter belt to hold up your stockings. You didn't move while he drank you in. After a while, Shouta nodded and gave you a sign with his hand to remove the rest. You weren't alone in this. Shouta removed his shoes, socks, shirt, spenders, etc. until he wore only his slacks. Your fingers trembled too much to unhook the cincher with much success. Shouta did the work for you, peeling the cincher away and tossing it behind the setee. His hands were on you; the second the garment fell apart from you. Shouta's fingers groped you through the thin silk, slid his hands down your legs, and rolled them off. You kicked your kitten heels off and climbed into his lap.

Shouta lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carried you to bed. The silk combination was shifted off your body before Shouta settled you on the enormous bed. You climbed on top of the sheets, rested your head on the mountain of pillows, and pressed your legs together while you waited. You didn't have to do that for very long as Shouta followed immediately behind you. This time he was equally naked as you were. Shouta forced your legs apart and crept between them. He kissed and licked your inner thighs and left bruises to remind you of him the next time you went to take a bath.

He climbed unto his knees. By the firelight, you saw him. His body was littered with scars from bullets and knives. Some of them looked almost fatal. You reached up to touch him. You ran your hands down the length of his body before stopping at the stiff member jutting out. You wrapped your hand around him and give his cock a few experimental thrusts. The groan escaping him filled you with the confidence needed to rub him faster. You kept pumping him and watching his face contort to one of pleasure.

Then, all of a sudden, he pulled your hand away.

Shouta pinned your hand to the bed while he used his other to lift one leg and hook it around his waist. He didn't need to guide himself in. In one fell swoop, Shouta's cock was planted deep inside and nestled within your soaking walls. His hand left yours on the bed to grab your hips and pull you flush against him. His hips snapped into yours slowly and harshly. Shouta kept his tempo slow but hard to tease you. It didn't take long for him to become impatient. You squeezing his cock pushed him over the edge.

Your bodies pressed close together as Shouta moved within you. You slid along his body, breasts flush against his solid chest. Shouta bent and suckled on each nipple of yours until they were taut peaks. He playfully clapped his hands over them, slapping the skin, which was becoming slick with sweat. His teeth found your throat to leave behind purpling bruises as if to say who you belonged to. You didn't know what to do with your hands or where to put them. You longed to reach up and tug on Shouta's hair but was too afraid to take offense and stop. Instead, you voted to wrap your hands in the bedsheets and hold onto dear life. Tugging on the sheets beneath you grounded your being in reality while Shouta pounded you into the mattress.

"So tight for me, Y/N. A man could get used to this," Shouta growled and started thrusting faster and harder into you.

Sweat and other fluids mixed between your legs. You clamped around him and held on. Without pulling out, Shouta turned you on your stomach and resumed thrusting. His rough hands that killed a lot of people were yet still tender when touching you. To be sure, he wouldn't leave you without a few souvenirs to remember him by, but Shouta wasn't about hurting women. He grunted in your ear as he pressed his chest against your back. He pulled you tight against to leave no room between your bodies. You cried out in the pillows and scratched at the silken sheets.

The room, which had been warm since Shouta lit the fireplace, became unbearably hot. The air grew to be too stifling for you. Sweat poured out of your body and made you slick. Well lubricated, it made Shouta's job easier. He pushed and pulled, his hips never slowing its tattoo* against yours. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room along with you moaning. Your sounds drowned him out, but you could still feel him rumble with every grunt against your ear. If not for all the furnishings, you would mistake yourself to be cave-people as Shouta unleashed a primeval urge to thoroughly fuck you. He was an animal between your legs; he claimed your hips with every powerful thrust.

A tight, hot coil settled in your stomach and began to tighten. With every push of Shouta inside of you, the rigid veins of his cock rubbing every secret part, you began to wail. Your walls tightened around him. When the time came, you gushed around him. Shouta was a minute behind. He pulled out beforehand. You would remember the way he groaned for the rest of your days. Shouta was an animal who just claimed his mate and was now planting the indelible mark on their body. You felt a spray of something warm and syrupy coating your skin. It took you a moment to realize that Shouta finished on your back.

Despite the mess you just made of you, Shouta leaned down, kissed the back of your neck then your cheek. He wiped the sweat from your brow. You bashfully smiled back.

"I-I haven't done that that in a while, you know. Sorry if I wasn't as experienced as you're used to," you mumbled.

One of Shouta's dark brows rose. "Why would I care about that? Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"Well, yes, but I—"

Shouta kissed you, silencing any protests you might have had. His cock slipped inside of you. You gasped at how quickly he was hard again.

"Let's make one thing clear, Doll Face. You don't get to decide if I liked it. That's what you were about to say? Some bullshit like that, right?"

His hand came down on your ass cheek. You yelped in both surprise and pain. Shouta massaged the red handprint as he slowly began to start a new rhythm

"I get to decide whether you're good and whether I want you," he grunted between thrusts, which were starting to pick up again, "And I say, I want you. Your experience with other men means shit to me. You're with me now, and my girl gets the best, understand?"

You nodded before letting the flow of his lust take over you. Shouta flipped you back over, so you looked at each other. You reached behind his neck to hold on as his pace picked up to a punishing speed.

"Don't…ever…think less of…yourself. You're fucking mine from now on, got it?" He growled.

And that was how you ended up a gangster's girlfriend.

                                                         ---080---

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Sunset Swerve - Part 6

Pairings: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: light cursing

A/N: Day 6 of @jatp-week is favorite fanfic trope and since I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers here’s the next chapter of Sunset Swerve! We’re through episode 5 now. Some house keeping before you get into the chapter: song lyrics are italicized and the songs used in this chapter are Get Gone and Last Song by Thalia Mar. Idk why but the jatp soundtrack reminded me of her music so I figured why not make them Apollo 81 songs? Definitely recommend checking her out! As always, let me know what you think!

Part 5  Masterlist

___

“Where are they?” Julie paced backstage.

“They’ll be here any minute,” Jordan had reassured the girl last time she had asked. That had been nearly an hour ago and this time the ghost girl had no explanation for their absence.

She frowned as she considered what might be keeping the three ghost boys from their first gig. The only feasible explanation she could come up with was that they’d gotten what they needed from Willie’s friend and were currently confronting Bobby. The thought made her blood boil, that they would abandon the girls for revenge.

“I have no idea,” Jordan answered the pacing girl, “But I have an idea.” “Idea for what? Can you like summon them here or something?” Julie asked skeptically but at least she had stopped pacing.

“No.” Julie frowned. “But, I know a way Julie and the Phantoms can still perform. Well, Julie and the Phantom, singular.”

“We can’t perform without the guys, we need them for all our songs.”

“True,” Jordan admitted. “But there are some old songs I wrote with Apollo 81 that we could perform with just the two of us.”

“You want to learn a brand new set of songs and perform them tonight?” Julie questioned, crossing her arms and giving Jordan a look that clearly showed her disbelief.

“I already know the songs and you’re a freaking music prodigy, we can absolutely do it.” Jordan protested, “I’ll pop back to the studio to get my notebook and meet you in the band room, okay?”

Julie nodded, smiling at her in a way that told Jordan how crazy she thought she was.

Jordan appeared in the studio a moment later and quickly scrambled up the later to the loft, sifting through her left behind belongings for her old song notebook. She kept the most recent one on her at all times in her bag but it was filled with songs for a four-piece band, none of which she could rework in time for herself and Julie to perform. However, she knew somewhere in the loft there was a notebook of songs she and the girls had been working on just for fun, some of which could easily be performed by just the two of them.

She thrusted it into the air triumphantly when she finally found it in an old box with some Apollo 81 memorabilia.  She quickly poofed back to the school, landing on the piano bench next to Julie.

“Did you find it?” She asked after recovering from being startled by the ghost’s sudden appearance.

“Got it right here,” Jordan held up the notebook before flipping through the pages. “So I was thinking we could start with...”

Jordan walked Julie through her thought process on the setlist before they got to work. Just two songs to learn as fast as they could. They practiced for nearly an hour, Julie finally seeming comfortable enough with the lyrics and melodies to make it work when she got a text from Flynn.

“We should get out there,” Jordan said, moving to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder but forgetting that was impossible. “We’ve got this.”

Julie nodded, taking a deep breath before holding her head high and marching out of the band room. Jordan whooped excitedly as she followed behind her.

“Get ready cause Julie and the Phantoms are about to rock your socks off!” She called excitedly though she knew only Julie could hear her.

Julie shook her head, laughing at the girl’s outdated phrases.

“It’s eleven o’clock, you gotta perform,” Flynn said when they arrived backstage. “Even without the guys you’ll sound amazing.”

Julie smiled at the compliment.

“Don’t worry, Jordan and I have a plan.”

“You’re going on?” A voice asked from behind them and Julie froze.

Jordan cooed silently at how adorable the blond boy was, clearly caring about Julie and the band.

Julie nodded, though Jordan could see the nerves filling her again. Nick grinned from ear to ear before running out on stage.

“Guess what guys!” He exclaimed, grabbing Flynn’s microphone. “Julie fixed the hologram thing! Who’s ready for a show?”

The crowd erupted into cheers and Jordan grinned, starting to bounce on the balls of her feet as she felt the mix of nerves and adrenaline pumping through her body as it always did before a performance.

“Uh, hi,” Julie said, stepping onto the stage and accepting the mic from Nick.

“You’ve got this,” Jordan called out reassuringly and Julie took a breath, starting stronger.

“So, here’s the thing: even though we got the machine fixed, thanks to Nick,” she smiled at the boy and the crowd cheered, “I still can’t link up with all the guys, WiFi am I right?” She joked, gaining chuckles from a few people in the crowd.

“So, the shows going to look a little different tonight. It’s just me and Jordan, hope you don’t mind.” She smiled lightly and the crowd cheered while Jordan whooped again from behind her.

Flynn grinned at her best friend, giving her two thumbs up as she walked off stage.

“Get all your bags, get out my house, I don’t want your stuff around. I never did you wrong, but you did me wrong so go ahead and get gone,” Julie sang from the piano, repeating the intro once before Jordan joined in.

She poofed onto the stage, guitar in hand as she took over the melody, Julie jumping up from the piano as the crowd cheered for what they thought were hologram effects. As Jordan played Julie began to stomp and clap out a back beat, getting the crowd to follow along as she joined her bandmate in center stage.

“All this time, I wasted on you,” she began the first verse, the crowd yelling excitedly as the girls played. “You’d think I’d feel something. You thought wrong. I feel nothing, so now I guess it’s your move.”

“You used my back as a door, left me for dead on the floor. You didn’t try no not one bit,” Jordan took over for the pre chorus, leaning into her own mic. “Thought I came off as weak, well this is me proving you wrong.”

“Get all your bags, get out my house...” Julie took over the chorus once more, Jordan singing the backup harmonies.

Before she knew it the song was over and the crowd was screaming. Jordan grinned, slinging her guitar to the side as she pulled her mic from the stand.

“Hi, guys!” She greeted the gymnasium. “We’re Julie and the Phantoms!” The name was met with a roar of applause from the students. “I hope you don’t mind that we deviated from our usual rock sound for you tonight.

“For this next song I wanna get my girl Flynn up here!” Jordan spoke, waving the girl onto the stage again. “As you’ve all seen tonight, Flynn is crazy talented and I’m hoping she can help us out with this next song as we’re missed a few hands,” she laughed, gesturing to the mostly empty stage and Flynn nodded, moving over to her setup.

“This ones called Last Song, hope you like it,” Jordan grinned, gesturing to Julie who had returned to the piano.

While Julie began the first verse, switching the keyboard to an organ sound Jordan explained to Flynn what they needed.

“...I never let it go cause you never gave me the chance to,” Flynn joined in with the beat and Jordan grinned. “I never had the time to talk and be done with you, so I say it now,”

“This is the last song I promise you at least for now,” as Jordan came in on her guitar Julie bounded over, holding out her microphone for the ghost to take over the chorus. “This is the last song I’ll ever write about you.”

The two girls fed off each other’s energies and the cheers from the crowd, neither one able to keep the smiles off their faces.  It was over before Jordan was ready for it to be, the three girls taking a bow and Jordan disappearing once more.

She watched from the side of the stage as Julie thanked their audience and soaked up the applause with her best friend. The gymnasium emptied out not long after and once she was sure Julie was all set she poofed away, planning to give the guys a piece of her mind.

When she arrived back at the Hollywood Ghost Club she wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it hadn’t been a hopping party with a massive band. The whole room was dancing and Jordan couldn’t help but bop along to the beat as well as she searched for her bandmates. She finally found them as the song wound down, all three of them right in the middle of the stage.

“The haunting hour is upon us!” A man in a fabulous purple suit called when the clock struck midnight and the crowd replied with a low ‘ooooh’ before the band kicked up again.

Jordan watched with crossed arms as Luke scrambled to get the boys together, the trio rushing towards the exit where she was stood.

“Oh shit,” Luke cursed, stumbling to a stop in front of her and holding his arms out to stop the guys behind him.

“Yeah,” Jordan said snidely and the guys gulped.

“Gentlemen, what’s the rush?” The purple suited man from before questioned as he poofed behind the group and Jordan turned to face him. “You must be Jordan. We certainly missed you tonight.”

“Looks like I missed out on quite the party,” Jordan replied sincerely before turning to glare at the guys.

“Well the party’s just getting started, and you have an eternity after all,” he quirked an eyebrow at her and she smiled gratefully at the offer.

“Y’know that girl who can see us?” Reggie interjected, pushing forward past the guys. “We sort of bailed on her. See there’s this dance at her school tonight, and she’s got this friend Flynn who’s a super cool dj like-“

“Okay, I don’t think he has an eternity to hear the story,” Alex cut him off.

“Basically we’re late for a gig,” Luke summarized and Jordan snorted, late was an understatement.

“But what about my offer?” Purple suit asked and Jordan frowned.  

“What offer?” She asked, looking between the man and her bandmates.

“To join my house band,” he answered, spreading his arms out in a grandiose gesture. “Naturally the offer is extended to you as well, I’ve heard you possess a great musical talent.”

“Thank you,” she blushed at the compliment. “But, I’m already in a band.”

“Yeah, it’s like we said Mr. Covington,” Luke started but purple suit held up a hand to stop him.

“You have your own band, I understand.” He said, his seemingly warm smile not quite reaching his eyes. “But, if you ever wanna come back and fix that little problem with your friend, the Hollywood Ghost Club is always open.”

The guys grinned at the offer and Jordan held back a sigh. She understood the importance of getting back at Bobby but their pursuit of revenge was kind of becoming a problem.

“Yeah, man, we’d love to come back,” Luke accepted and purple suit smiled, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Music to my ears,” he said, shaking each boy’s hand in turn and then reaching Jordan. She hissed slightly as she felt something burn into her wrist as they shook hands.

“Oh, it’s just a little club stamp.” He explained as she watched the purple symbol fade away and they all nodded at the explanation.

“Until next time,” he said, chuckling deeply. It was actually mildly disturbing, Jordan thought.

She stood and watched as each boy filed out of the building, not planning to let them out of this one. Alex took a moment longer to inquire about Willie, which Jordan allowed because truthfully she was rooting for them.

Once they were out of the club, they all poofed to the school, Jordan appearing next to Julie under a now half-popped balloon arch.

“Julie we are ready to rock this.... dance,” Reggie called as the guys ran into the gym, faltering as they took in the scene before them.

“We are so, so sorry that we bailed on you,” Luke said, stopping next to Reggie as they faced Julie who had since stood up, adopting a disappointed stance.

“Yeah, the night really got away from us,” Alex continued.

“And the twin,” Reggie added, only to be met with glares form the other three ghosts.

“Why didn’t you come get us?” Luke asked, turning on Jordan accusatorially.

“Nuh uh, don’t you turn this on her,” Julie sassed, stepping between the two ghosts. “You guys were supposed to be here. She’s not your babysitter.”

“You’re right, we’re so sorry,” Luke sighed, staring down at his shoes. “But we’ll make it right, we’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll play the next school-“

“What, another dance where you can bail on me and make me look like a fool? Save it,” Julie  spoke and Jordan gulped. “If it weren’t for Jordan I never would’ve been able to show my face here again!”

“You know what sucks?” She continued, growing more emotional as the confrontation went on. “Our songs were good. And all three of you knew what I’ve been through. How tough it’s been for me to play, and you do this? Bands don’t do that to each other. Friends don’t do that to each other.”

Jordan tried to hide her sniffles as she discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t handle Julie’s speech and the heartbreak obvious on the guys’ faces. She had wanted them to get shamed a little for their mistake, she was disappointed in them herself, but not like this. She couldn’t stand to see all her new friends this upset, especially with each other.  

“This was a mistake,” Julie said quietly but firmly.

“Y-you mean the school dance right?” Luke gulped.

“No.” Julie said coldly, “I mean joining a band with you guys.”

Before any of them could stop her she was running out of the gym, both Luke and Jordan calling out her name as she left.

“Why couldn’t you have just come and gotten us, Moss,” Luke spat, turning his heartbreak and frustrations on her.

Jordan sniffled, no longer trying to hide her tears as she stood from the gym floor.

“Why couldn’t you have just been responsible?” She wasn’t sure where she’d found a voice through her tears and swirling emotions, but the voice she found was full of malice and betrayal.

Before they could get into another of their signature fights she poofed out, reappearing in the studio. She didn’t stay long, only taking the time to grab her book before running up the path to the house and Julie’s room. She hoped the girl wouldn’t mind that she was there, but she was certain she wasn’t welcome in the loft anymore.

She nearly collapsed in pain upon arrival in the room. A sharp jolt of pain had shot through her chest, it felt almost as if she were dying again.

“What the hell was that?” She groaned quietly to herself, curling up on the ground.

Part 7

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx 

Sunset Swerve Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway @deni-gonzalez @advicefromnixxxx @brooke0297

[sleekervae]

Young God [0.1]

Masterlist

July 2011

Her alarm didn't wake her up, but the carnivorous notions of the oncoming day did. Taylor's first show was today. Her first show in America, to be precise. The very idea that she had touched down and was in California in the first place was enough to send goosebumps rippling down her arms and her palms break out into sweats. And Taylor used the phrase 'carnivorous' in the sense that if she didn't put on a good show, she'd be eaten alive by the crowds and never be able to break out across the pond.

Steadily now, Taylor threw the blanket off her head and ran her fingers through the knots and tangles in her blue hair. Behind her was the soft down pillow, and she frowned when she saw the faint stains of black makeup in the linen. Oh, fuck me, she thought to herself. She wiped the crusties from her eyes, and as her vision came into focus she found various liquor bottles scattered across the coffee table. In a bedroom? Oh, that's right; she slept in the living room, on the pullout sofa to be specific. That was why her head was pounding... and why her clothes smelled like the inside of a dirty pub.

Taylor stood on shaky legs, frowning when she saw she was only dressed in an oversized sleep shirt and her panties. Fuck, where were her clothes, now? Taylor held her head as she wandered through the flat, cursing to herself when she suddenly stubbed her toe on the corner of the base boards.

"Oh! -- Motherfuck..."

In the kitchen she found a few more glasses randomly distributed across the countertop, some empty, others smudged with various shades of lipsticks and dirty finger prints. Taylor picked up one, in the glass a liquid that consisted of a ruby red pigment. She didn't care much for what it was, she'd brush her teeth later on. Taylor knocked back the leftover drink, vodka burning down her throat while the sour tinge of the cranberry juice it was mixed with made her lips pucker. Afterwards she went to the sink and filled the glass with cold water, then downed that as well in a single gulp.

Her weary legs took Taylor to the bathroom. The door was closed, and Taylor grumbled when she found it was locked. Inside, she could hear the echo of the shower beating against cold tile. Fucking shame, she needed to take a piss and she smelled like a mini fridge after New Years.

"I fuckin' -- good Lord, Worsnop," she raised her fist and knocked briskly against the door, knowing fully well what a whore Danny was when it came to his showers, "Danny! Hurry up! I need a whizz!" she called through her banging.

"Wait two minutes, Tay!" his usual soft, Yorkshire accent was gravely and gruff. Taylor then pictured Danny as some sort of hybrid singing werewolf because of it.

"No! Either get out or I swear to God -- I'll squat over your ferns!" she shouted. At that, the beating of water quickly ceased, and Taylor stood back with a sly smirk on her face as she heard the bathroom door unlock. It opened and out came a sopping wet Danny with water dribbling down his beard and a towel wrapped firmly around his waist. He shivered as he stepped aside for Taylor, chuckling to himself.

"You're a right prick when you're hungover, Taylor," he said, "The Geordies would be so ashamed of ya!"

"Oh yeah," Taylor sighed, "Look how broken up I am about the fucking Geordies. And clean up that mess out there; you want the people to think we're slobs?" and with that, she slammed the door in his face. Immediately, she was engulfed in the pleasant scent of men's shampoo.

Danny knocked on the door then, "Oi! Why do I gotta' clean it up? You helped make the mess!" he called.

"Yeah! But it's your flat!" Taylor called back, "And I'm your guest,"

"They don't say flats here, Tay," Danny chuckled. Taylor rolled her eyes as she heard his footsteps swish away.

"Whatever," locking the door behind her, Taylor turned to face the mirror and examined the ugly reflection of frizzy blue hair, dark circles and blackened eyelids -- a true indication that she was indeed hungover and on the cusp of a breakdown.

Well she was young, ripe at twenty years of age, and either of those fit well.

She pulled a gag face and tended to her business with the toilet. Afterwards, she ran the cold water from the alabaster sink and proceeded to splash cold water onto her face several times over, scrubbing at her skin with a wash cloth to get rid of the old makeup. Unfortunately, her taste in makeup was good quality, because all the makeup did was slide and stick to her skin.

I don't have the patience today...

Taylor squirted a bare-minimum amount of toothpaste onto her toothbrush and popped it into her mouth, shuddering when she heard a knocking at the door.

"How long ya' gonna' be?" Danny asked, "Not that I'm trying to rush you," Again, Taylor rolled her eyes and unlocked the door, to which Danny took as an invitation to enter. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw the makeup streaked over Taylor's face.

"Not funny, you wanker," she spit through the blue foam.

"I'm not laughing at you, Taylor; I'm only laughing with you," he replied simply.

"I heard that bullshit before," she spat out the fluff and started again, "What time do we gotta' be at the park?"

Danny reached past her face, opening the medicine cabinet to grab his razor and shaving cream, "Somewhere around ten-ish," he replied, "We got some time to kick around, grab a coffee. How ya' feeling?"

"Like I crawled out of a garbage can," she said.

Danny chuckled again, "Besides the hangover, love,"

Taylor spat out the rest of her toothpaste and wiped her mouth with her wrist, turning to Danny with sunken eyes, "Honestly -- I wanna' go home,"

He squirted a bare amount of shaving lotion into his hand and proceeded to smear over and around his soggy beard, "No. Why?" Danny asked.

"Because," Taylor replied, "I ain't gonna' fit in, Dan. I know I won't,"

Danny scoffed back as he switched on his razor, "Taylor, none of us fit in. That's why we go to Warped Tour -- for the weirdos," he said, "And you're the perfect weird addition to our fucked up little family,"

Taylor glowered back at him, "That was a backhanded-compliment, Dan," she stated.

"I'm sorry, Tay. But I can't be as charming when I'm hungover," he said. Taylor threw down her toothbrush and brushed passed Danny, charging into the flat to look for her bag. It wasn't in the living room and it wasn't in the bedroom, where the fuck did he put it?

"It's not just the tour, though," she said, "It's America," she threw her hands up as though to make a dramatic point.

Danny shuffled along in his large bath towel, a quarter shaven and visually following her manic movements as she scoured through his flat, "While I admit it may not be the greatest country in the world, it ain't fucking bad," he said, "They're age restrictions are a little whack,"

"You're telling me. Can't drink until you're twenty-one, fucking bollocks," Taylor huffed as she tried not to trip over the remaining bottles on the floor, "I'm just a little worked up over performing to an American crowd. I don't know how they're gonna' react to me, is all," she said.

"Babe, come on," Danny awed at her, "You was a smash in England, you'll be a right smash in America, too,"

"You're just saying that 'cause I'm your friend and you feel obligated to make me feel better," she replied, then suddenly growling out loud, "Where is my fucking stuff!?"

"In my bedroom," Danny replied oh-so-matter-of-factly. Taylor glowered at him.

"Why is it there?"

"I told you it was there, you said you'd unpack it later on,"

"That was before you got me drunk,"

"We was celebrating!" he cried, "You're big American debut!"

"American debut my skinny arse!" she charged into his bedroom without another word. Danny meanwhile snickered to himself as he shuffled to his fridge, he was suddenly feeling a tad peckish.

"Oi! Finish shaving before you go snacking!" Taylor called suddenly, "You'll look like a rabid dog," Danny's only response was a dramatic, long-winded dog howl.

Andy lit his first cigarette of the morning and leaned against the cold wall of his bus, unpleased at the rising heat that coated his pale skin in a light sheen of sweat. The blue sky still had wisps of the previous evening's indigo and the sun was burning down more intensely than he'd prepared for, which left him feeling rather stifled and uncomfortable, a stark contrast to the cool, air-conditioned environment of the bus he'd been in moments before. It was California days such as this that made him consider cutting back his long hair.

There was more time than usual to kill before the show today and Andy had hoped that everyone would partake in a drink or two whilst they threw around some new ideas, but the boys had instead wandering off for a pre-show meal before their own soundcheck. Left to his own devices, it hadn't take long until he had resorted to a shot of whisky in his coffee, then, feeling miserable, full of self-pity and not at all in the mood to write, he had wandered outside for a smoke.

He puffed his hair from his face feeling it already begin to stick to his forehead. Maybe it was time for a trim. He wondered what he'd look like if he buzzed it all off or changed his style completely. As he smoked, he considered the setlist they'd compiled, he checked his phone and scanned through his messages, he yawned several times and contemplated going back to his bunk, then he took a final drag deep into his lungs, watched it escape through his lips and disappear into thin strands of wispiness above his head before crushing the cigarette with the heel of his boot.

His boredom had gotten the best of him to the point that he decided to wander around the park to kill some time. With it being still early, vendors were still popping and setting up their tents and buses were slowly rolling into the parkade. He felt the eyes of some onlookers, either taking notice for his metal aesthetic or they recognized his long dreads and skinny physique from the posters and t-shirts that were being laid out for fans to purchase later on. Andy grinned suddenly when the familiar twang of rippling guitars ghosted through his ears and he headed towards the MainStage.

A few hours later Taylor stood to the side of the stage, feeling somewhat refreshed, though her head still clung to the smallest trace of a headache just to make her miserable. As if anything could be worse, she was still jet lagged and wanted to go back to bed. She tried to sleep it off in the van, but her tour manager, Robin, barely gave her a moments rest as she went through Taylor's schedule for the next week. Taylor was extremely grateful to have Robin as her manager -- she was the perfect composition of organized and kick-ass. But bloody hell, she was fucking persistent when it came to Taylor's scheduling. Perhaps that was why she had the job in the first place?

Danny was a fantastic showman, he held this charisma that just commanded everybody in the audience -- well, soundcheck -- to pay attention to him and his band: Asking Alexandria. Or perhaps everybody was just staring at that ridiculous fedora he had on today? When they got to soundcheck, Ben refused to let up on how ancient that hat made Danny look, as though he stepped out of a scene from The Great Gatsby.

"You said you'd love me for better or worse, Ben!" Danny cried dramatically.

"I didn't say I'd love that fucking hate, mate," Ben chided back.

Taylor loved watching the band perform, though today she found she couldn't get into their energy as much. She was too on edge, perhaps from the three cups of coffee she'd consumed before she left the flat -- sorry, apartment. She was too nervous for her own gig. Taylor looked over her shoulder at the empty field, a field which would soon be filled with cheering -- or jeering -- audiences. Taylor was new meat, one of the starting-acts, and that was daunting enough to make her stomach turn; and not just from the hangover.

She could still remember her first show back home in Gateshead; many of her friends were there, and they invited friends of friends and so on. Many loved her, others booed at her. Taylor could still hear the ridicule of one audience member who called her Joan Jett wannabe. That just made her want to work harder, prove to them that she was fantastic on her own. She wasn't trying to be the next Joan, or the next Debbie Harry, or Stevie Nicks. Taylor wanted to be the first Taylor Wray.

"This next one I'd like to dedicate to our good friend, Taylor Wray," Danny spoke into the microphone, eliciting little reaction from the stagehands and roadies who watched them. Taylor meanwhile grinned and gave Danny a little wave.

"This one's called 'I Used to Have a Best Friend, But He Gave Me An STD'," and with that, Taylor's smile vanished and she flipped her middle finger at him.

"Fuck you, Danny!" she shouted.

"Right back at ya', love!" Danny called back. With that, the band tore into the song and started jamming out.

Taylor rolled her eyes and instead pushed herself up to sit on the guard rail, tapping the heel of her leather boot in time to James' drum set. She jumped suddenly when she felt a buzz reside within the back pocket of her jeans. Her phone lit up with a text from Maxeen, the bassist of her touring band. She was just wondering what time soundcheck was.

The MainStage was within Andy's line of sight and he wandered through the grass and weeds to watch Asking's set. Watch -- and maybe heckle a bit. From the stage, Ben caught sight of his long-haired mate crossing the threshold, and he stopped mid-strum to wave him down. Lifting his head as he turned back to face his friend, Andy crosses the field, eager to watch his friends but stopped dead in his tracks when his brain caught up with his vision and he realized he wasn't the only spectator in the park.

Sat on the guardrail was a young woman, swinging her legs back and forth as her feet could just touch the second bar in her heeled ankle boots. Her vibrant, teal blue hair immediately caught Andy's attention. When she noticed Ben waving, she shifted to turn and spotted Andy coming her way. When Andy's gaze caught hers, he nearly lost his composure.

He knew it could have only lasted for seconds, that there was no way in which the consistency of time could have altered for him and his own sudden and ridiculous longing, but he could have sworn then, just for a moment, as he laid eyes on her for the first time, that everything fell deadly still around him and begged him to notice her.

And notice her he did.

Her eyes were big and round, lined in black eyeliner and glittered with green, shimmery eyeshadow that brought a warmth to her brown irises. Her jeans were ripped in the knees and the tattoos on her bare arms were on display in the oversized Abbey Road muscle tee she wore. Her thick teal curls flowed in the wind as she ran her free hand back through her locks and he noted the effort it took to detangle her fingers from the strands.

There was an abundant softness about her that made him sigh out loud, a gentle spunk that made him feel as if he'd damage her just from the intensity of his stare but she still gave off an ember of effervescent vibrance when she turned the corners of her lips up at him, his heart thudding against his ribcage just from the bravery in the way she held his gaze.

As if she could feel the way in which he thirstily drank her in, Taylor slowly looked him up and down, catching Andy off guard. He blinked once or twice, just to have something to do besides marvel at her and bit the inside of his cheek to confirm he wasn't dreaming, but now certain that she was looking at him, that her friendly smile was for him -- Andy just about melted.

[neverheardnothing]

rewatching joe iconis and family lincoln center performance at 4 am instead of packing or sleeping just to feel something and i have so FEW and so MANY thoughts and yall are gonna hear em all. no i will not put this under a cut. im going to be an absolute bastard about this.

i love the story joe tells about why he's singing mitb as the first song so much. like. the spite of it all. the defiance of it all. the pride of it all. the dig it or fuck off and disappear of it all. the joe iconis of it all. 

“i know exactly the song im going to sing as my first song at the american songbook series.” i love that he highlights the fact that this is the american songbook series.

then immediately jumping right into broadway here i come with molly hager, the other song he is most known for!!!

every time i think about this performance i think about how this was the first (?) time this song was performed by them since the closing of bmc.

and then lance rubin comes up to sing try again. which is the only time that i know of that anyone but joe has sung this song.

i remember a remark made during watching it live that having someone else sing the song made it seem so clearly more about joe and his career. but also having lance sing it immediately makes me think of bbh closing early which yeah is part of joe’s career but also lance’s.

and also the line “if you’re an actor and another actor gets the part you auditioned for” reminds me of how lance found the auditioning process of acting and the whole [not acting part] of an acting career to be terrible which is why he quit to then become an author and the juxtaposition of him singing try again is Something. but also he DID try again he is just applying his efforts to a different creative field and it’s working out great for him. good for lance rubin.

lol i haven’t even talked about the actual performance aspect of this song anyways it’s very different from the two versions ive seen of joe doing it. he plays it a lot more comical. i love it.

sidenote not specific about this performance, but i love love LOVE the line and the music at “use the stairs, walk to the street. see the people, feel the heat, and apply yourself again.”

and also the line “when they cast you out to sea, there’s a lifeboat manned by me called try and try again” will never not make me think of bsol/last on land and bonus lance was also in that show! it just keeps circling around.

everything about these past 3 songs performed at this venue in this set list order in this moment at joe’s career is honestly so wonderful. like you had a songs about an anxiety attack, a suicide/loss of self in success, and repeated failures before this song all sung by individuals. two of these songs were written at points where joe felt frustrated/sad with his career. one written in the aftermath of specific frustration about the first closing of be more chill. one an actual song from bmc. like what a SETLIST for your first three songs! fucking michael in the bathroom, broadway here i come, and try again. truly something.

THE WHISKEY SONG!! i love hearing joe sing so much. while i think we can all agree he’s not the most skilled singer there’s something special about hearing a composer perform their own work. he adds like 3 levels of charm to make up for lack of singing skills lol. just a very charismatic guy.

lance rubin back on tamborine for the next bit of the song and he’s like laughing through it. not completely sure what he’s laughing about honestly but this Is a comedic song (after 3 real downers of songs) and also joe was playing it up.

jared weiss down on the floor with his guitar playing along. that’s its own bullet point.

audience cheering as more family members start coming on stage! i love that the band is getting cheers. love that!!!

the camera isn’t on him but from the audio, nick blaemire is presumably running around giving high fives to people in the audience.

i can’t exactly tell with the camera angle and the lighting but i think that more family members get up from different seats in the audience or at least enter in the back and walk through the audience to get to the stage during this instrumental break. reminds me of how joe loves theater that physically touches you. giving you high fives in this case.

love liz lark brown. she plays it pretty like. frenetic and frazzled. love it.

amara, badia, danielle, will, and nick are just chillin sitting on the steps of the stage. 100% contributes to the vibe of this song. top fuckin notch.

SOMEONE screams AH during the drunk part of the song and i cannot figure out who but it gives me so much life.

jared pulling lance down to the floor with him.

jason going “man.... this place is a dump” like i LOVE the irreverence.

everyone actually getting back up and also converging On the stage during the (kind of) acapella break.

and now your whole gang is up on the stage at the fancy ass appel room singing your what sounds like a mostly upbeat fun song but is actually about self medication with alcohol and it’s a fucking jam. i love the 3 solo songs and then bringing in everyone for a big group number.

sidenote not about this specific performance: the lyrics “i’ll pour some more and then—AND THEN?—i’ll pass out and then—AND THEN!” the and thens were not on the things to ruin album and i wonder why not ALL the time. was it just deemed extraneous? or was this an innovation after the album was recorded?

i love that you can see the band singing along.

yesterdays / i can’t relate. i love this song i fucking love it. i love the synthy keyboard that was an active choice made. which means that joe is not the one accompanying jared in this song.

jared: i hate today. joe: *snorts in the background*

“i like music you can hold” -> old records black suits, susannah’s obsession with music which was of course in vinyl format back then

will once said hearing lgw was very exciting because he’s first and foremost a fan of joe’s so he was hearing a new joe song for the first time and the world got just a bit larger and i think about that quote a lot in relation to this song because i was like Oh i Get What He Means now because this is the first new joe song i heard since like getting into his work and i felt that world getting a bit bigger.

jared’s monotone chorus on top of the girls underneath is so good. it’s so fucking good i cannot.

liz lark brown velociraptor fuckin classic. specifically in this performance the weird ass electric guitar noise at “there’s a dinosaur” is SO good. i love it.

i know people say Trans Vibes from next song (jeff) but this song also gives me trans vibes. i think joe inadvertently writes stuff trans people relate to because of his propensity to write for People Who Are Different.

people cheering as will takes off his jacket hell yeah.

i am way more used to the jeremy morse version of this song and really consider it more his so it’s so fun to hear will sing it.

i love the canon of the “oh”s so much.

after will sings “i go to the window looking out and what do i see? myself just staring back at me.” and someone in the audience AUDIBLY goes “oh.” like what a MOMENT. way more subtle than when someone screamed “WHAT” at the “naked korean girl” reveal during the pipe night performance but on the same tier of Great Audience Reactions.

smooth fuckin gliss bro i love it. arms out by side. i love it.

Classic Jason Sweettooth Williams Singing Helen. but this time they added like some REAL like. oh god i have no idea how to describe it. electric crunchy electric guitar noises. and it’s so good.

i havent mentioned this yet but in the background of every song people who are not in it or are backup vocals are just sitting and jamming along and it’s so nice because me fuckin too.

honest to god just have to give a timestamp for this but bullet point for whatever the fuck eric is doing in the background here.

will and katrina circling each other singing directly into each other’s faces. so good.

the Unexpected dynamic change and following crescendo i am Living.

katrina rose dideriksen riffing up top. yes. YES.

joe starting to play helen sharp and then forgetting part of his introduction to the song is so good.

the inevitable laughter at any performance of this song at “it is not lost on me you’re all here at my show”

i know nothing about the movie death becomes her so i honestly always just think about joe when this song gets performed. also thinking about how in the youtube premiere of this song, joe was talking about how lauren was shouting out the names of all the musical theater composers joe is jealous of.

right place/wrong time. i read a bsol review a while ago about how katrina rose dideriksen was underutilized and gotta say i Agree holy Shit let her sing More.

i also remember how joe once said this song felt the most personal to him and that he cried when writing it

police siren piano.

the first time in this entire song they sing in sync is at the line “i wonder if his/her life is just like mine” and i just start screaming.

when eric and katrina turn to each other for the first time and start singing At each other!!!!!!!!!!!

honey! thinking about jen ash tep talking about how Each performance of this song gets Wilder and Wilder.

love it when nick just gets off the stage and starts singing to people in the audience. apparently one of the people was will’s mom lol.

ACAPELLA BREAK!!!!!! joe just fully gets up from piano and starts WILDLY clapping along!!!!

woman of a certain age! i remember when the live show happened the album had not come out yet and then when the yt premiere of it happened it Had been out for a week or so.

piano note elevator bell

the electric guitar is doing some fucking weird ass things in this song and i am living so fucking much for it.

the riffs badia does are so fucking incredible i immediately paused this video to go and watch her sing big fat ruby again just because i wanted more badia content.

the story behind old flame is so good and joe waiting until the last fuckin moment to give her the song is so fuckin funny.

i love love love these types of joe songs that are like 7 minute long story epics like right place/wrong time and the actress and ammonia and old flame.

“the best way to get past the past is to shoot it in the head” and then the audience cheers and i fucking love it. my commentary is getting shorter. it’s 6 am and i’m tired can you tell. i also just had a lot of thoughts about this early on and less thoughts about later on.

revolution song. the deep ass fucking electric bass is So good i Will go apeshit. like honestly that might be my favorite smaller detail of this song. like i imagine if i were in the room it might be loud and deep enough that i could feel it In my chest. like you can Feel the revolution coming.

i love the faster tempo revolution song has in the cabaret version.

i also love the cabaret specific lines of “evolution in the institution”

joey is a punk rocker was honestly not ever on the list of songs i thought would get performed here but im so glad that they did. like the obvious choice would have been veins for annie golden but they went this route. obsessed with this choice. obsessed with the fact that amphibian replaced this song as the act 2 opener. obsessed that annie is the one singing this.

i am never not screaming about wave and yall know this. just throwback to me losing it in the tags in a reblog of picture of the wave passage going on about how it really does mirror joe’s career and bmc specifically. and again this song being performed for the first (?) time since bmc closed makes the “so today on a hill in las vegas” and onward part SO fucking sad i literally just started crying. the entire song being in past tense up until that part. i will just go die now.

will in the yt premiere talking about texting the line “our energy would simply prevail” in the leadup to bmc coming back.

find the bastard. for some reason when this happened live i thought it was gonna be outlaw that was performed. 

i swear to god it is literally physically impossible for me not to AT LEAST mouth along to “what’s your name, what’s your name” during this song

NAMES ARE FOR ACCOUNTANTS.

MY NAME IS AWFUL LONG AS IT’S THE LYRICS OF THIS SONG.

the goodbye song. it’s never not sad. i love love love that this song is the final song every concert. i also love the recent lore of finding out that penny dreadfuls was the encore song at concerts before they became too long and it had to get cut.

finally gonna mention the background car lights. what a beautiful backdrop.

also since im always on my wrol bullshit i love how fucking clearly you can hear him at the end

accelerando accelerando accelerando. insert [joe iconis peaked when he wrote the accelerando in the goodbye song post of mine].

katrina singing an octave up is always SO fucking impressive i am so impressed by her voice she is so fucking good i love her so much

the bows are so fucking sweet i love them.

goodnight it’s 7 am.

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 94) "It's All Coming Together."

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

@crystalbaby12

@5sosfam1dlover

@mgkobsessed

@backoftheroomandnotbelonging

"I still can't believe you're getting married...." Deanna says as she wraps the silky, white material around Luna's waist.

"Tell me about it." Sam scoffs as she passes a lit joint to Patti.

They're in the East Village at Deanna's studio. She's a designer friend of both Sam and Luna's. Being in touch most of the month with sketches, Luna and Deanna decided on three dresses. A simple, short one with lace details for TownHall and two for EstFest. One two be worn OnStage, the other for after.

"I need two dresses for Casie too." Luna moves as Deanna turns her.

"Who's Casie?" She asks around the pins in her mouth.

"Shit....." Luna thinks, suddenly realizing how fast everything is truly moving when her friend doesn't even know the details of her upcoming life.

"Colson's daughter..." She answers.

"You're gonna be a fucking mom???" Deanna reels back in shock.

"No." Luna states firmly. "She has a mother. A great one at that. I'm just like..... The cool chick who fucks her dad."

Sam is howling at their conversation. Patti leans over to her, asking Sam her opinion of Colson.

"Enh.... He's got his flaws but I don't hate him... Yet." Sam shrugs, giving Patti a Look.

Knowing Sammy since she first befriended Luna when they were 12yrs old, Patti respects her blunt opinion.

"I gotta pee..." Luna informs the room of women.

Stepping off the box, she grabs her bag and heads into the bathroom. Her shoulder is killing her from the weight of her guitar earlier. Prompting her to blow two 30s before exiting the bathroom. No one wants to pinpoint it, but Luna and Colson are technically drug addicts.

"Ooooh!!! What are these?" Luna asks excitedly.

Picking up a gorgeous pair of pearl lined sunglasses. She immediately thinks of Casie again.

"Those? I just made those last night." Deanna answers.

"I fucking love 'em. You got plans for 'em or can I buy 'em?" Luna asks intently as she continues to admire them.

"Buy 'em? No. You can just have 'em." Deanna insists.

Lighting a joint as she steps back onto the box, Luna declines. Knowing how much effort Deanna puts into her work.

"I'll give you fifty bucks." She offers as she lifts the joint to Deanna's finally free lips.

Deanna has created so many outfits for Luna, they almost move as one body at this point. Flowing easily with each shift and hit.

"Fuck outta here!!! They're faux!!" Deanna laughs to Luna's dismissive shrug.

Joints and cocktails are shared as Patti watches her granddaughter stand for her wedding dress fittings. Sam busts Luna's balls about being a wife as Luna reminds her of Baze. Shutting her up real quick.

Standing with her main dress pinned around her, it all seems so surreal. To all four of them. None of them can fully believe what's happening or are able to deny Luna is going to make a beautiful bride.

"It's all coming together...." Luna's heart fills with love, along with her eyes as she looks at herself. She feels goosebumps explode on her skin as she imagines Colson's eyes on her.

Before leaving Luna changes into a tight orange croptop. Fishnets with shorts, thigh high boots and a white bandana to keep her hair out off of her fresh tattoo and out of her face. It's been said, Luna's Bag holds EVERYTHING.

Love and kisses are exchanged once they finish. Plans being made for another fitting to finish up Luna and take care of Casie.

Luna slipping a fifty dollar bill under Deanna's sketches before placing the glasses in a extra hard case she has. Hugging and Thanking her friend again.

------------------------------------------------

Colson and Casie are flying back West. Boogieing on to make it back to AZ in time for his show. Being less then a 5hr flight, they should make it in time.

Playing Uno together, Colson chats with his daughter.

"So, you like the house in NY, Peanut?" He asks as he lays down his card.

"YES!!" Casie's eyes light up. "I'm gonna be the only kid in my class with three houses and three parents!" She beams with excitement as she checks her hand.

Colson chuckles as he watches his daughter. He loves how connected Luna and Casie are, that they are their own being without him.

"UNO!!" She shouts, slamming down her card.

"Ahhhhh!!! You little monster!!" Colson grins.

-----------------------------------------------

Separating from her Mom-Mom outside of Deanna's, Luna hugged her tight. Promising to see her soon before putting her in a cab.

Sam had errands to run, promising to meet up with her later. They have a flight out of JKF around 930P.

Catching a cab herself back to Brooklyn, Luna heads to meet Pete for a late lunch.

--------------------------------------------------

Colson has a sold out show tonight. He arrives with Casie just in time to hit a light rehearsal before the opening act starts.

Pushing his limits, Colson rails three more Adderall before hitting the stage.

--------------------------------------------------

Luna meets up with Pete at Soco.

"LOOOONS!!!" He exclaims.

Dropping his sunglasses to fully take her in before they embrace each other warmly.

"Hi Petey." She grins once they separate.

Sitting down, they order cocktails first. An Old Fashion for Luna. Lager for Pete. They catch up and bullshit, popping in an appetizer order. Then Pete gets serious.

"What the fuck was up with Kells and Bleta?" He asks bluntly.

Luna raises her eyebrows. Giving him a cocked look.

"I told you... He had his reasons." She says.

"And I told you, you make too many excuses for the men you're with." He counters before sighing. "You've got me in the same spot, Loons. You're with a dude I love..... I'm just not sure if I love him with you." Pete looks down into his drink.

Luna had met Pete before Justin. Leaving him to observe their whole relationship. It's understandable that he'd be protective of her.

"I am a big girl, Petey." She smiles at him. "I know what I'm getting myself into....." She grabs his hand as she trails off. "I'll be fine." She gives him a reassuring smile.

Pete knows all too well then to argue with Luna. Sighing, he squeezes her hand back.

"I know...." He trails off as the server approaches with theirs apps.

"Plus, we both know. If he fucks up, I'll beat his FUCKING ass myself." Luna grins at her friend.

Knowing this a fact, it eases Pete slightly. Also knowing Luna's undying loyalty, he can't help but still worry.

"How's your mom? Tell me about Kate.... Let's get rid of the heavy." Luna coaxes him out of his head.

"Ughhhh.... God. Don't get me started." Pete begins to complain to Luna's relief.

-------------------------------------------------

Back in Arizona at The Van Buran, Colson and The Boys are in fire. Ripping through their setlist.

Colson's a little more sentimental tonight. Talking to his family about how he misses His Girl, running a small bit of Bad Things alone.

Bringing Casie out for Swing Life Away. The crowd goes wild at the sight of her. Colson feeling whole for a moment.

Walking OffStage, the emptiness comes back to him in his dressing room. Wanting Luna, he Snaps her.

---------------------------------------------------

Luna and Pete are having a blast when Sam shows up. She's a fucking champion, towing her and Luna's bags along with Luna's acoustic.

"SAMMY BOO BOO!!!" A drunk Pete shouts as his tall body lifts her off the ground.

"What's up, Davidson?" She laughs after pecking his cheek.

"I miiisss you!! It's been forever!!" He declares.

"I just fucking seen you at Bobby's like a month ago." She continues to laugh, referring to a mutual friend of the three of them.

"Buuut we LOVE you!!" Luna laughs, imitating Pete.

"Fuck you, Loons." He laughs catching on.

Sam joins them for a few rounds. The three friends ripping and busting on each other. Laughing loudly. Fully enjoying each other's company.

Heading out of the restaurant, The Paps have a SICK, not a sixth, but a SICK sense of where Luna is. Snapping and shouting at her as she makes her way to the street with Sam.

Drunken eyes annoyed by the attention.

"Where's MGK?" They shout to her unamusement.

"I got him tied up in the fucking basement!!!" She laughs as her and Sam hop into a cab.

"Where'd you get THAT!!" Luna asks in amazement at Sam's RingPop.

"Ah.. Dude. I got one for you too!!" Sam happily cheeses as she slips the candy ring on Luna's finger.

Checking her phone, she has a Snap from Colson.

"He's such a fucking psycho!!!" She thinks with amusement as she grabs Sam to Snap him back.

-----------------------------------------------

Colson's back on The Bus headed towards CA. They've got a 6hr ride in front of them.

With Casie in bed, he burns and drinks while playing COD in the front of The Bus. Pausing to catch Luna's Snap.

Colson can't help but laugh. Luna's fucking stupid and he loves it.

--------------------------------------------------

Luna and Sam are on that late night flight tip. This does not stop them from loudly conversing.

Laughing, chatting and consuming in-flight drinks, Sam is NOT surprised when Luna pulls a pack of sealed edibles from her carry on.

THAT Bitch smuggles drugs like no other.

-------------------------------------------------

Colson and The Boys are booked at The Hilton in Anaheim.

Quietly sneaking into their room, Luna's still pretty drunk. She bangs into a table, waking Colson up.

"Kitten?" He asks groggily in the dark.

"Mmhmmm...." She purrs, trying to make her way to him.

"Are you fucked up?" He asks quietly with a laugh.

"Mmhhmmm..." She admits as she reaches the bed, grabbing for his calf. "Come're...." She coaxes him as he leans up.

He can taste the Jamison on her lips as he kisses her deeply. Running his hands along side her skull. Taking her into him just as she likes.

"Quick shower.... Please?" Luna begs in the darkness once Colson releases part of her mouth.

"Only to fuck you well, My Dear." Colson teases her as he holds her bottom lip hostage with his teeth.

"Mmmmm...." Luna moans before pulling away.

Stripping her clothes off, she trots into the Hotel Room bathroom. Colson following behind. He hates when she's gone but FULLY loves how she always cums back to only him.

---------------------------------------------------

To be continued....

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Concert Date

This one is ALMOST 3,000 words. It’s 2,997. So close. But I didn’t want to add three more words XD

Previous MLQC writings: 1, 2, 3, 4

I stood in the VIP seating section of Kiro’s concert with a small smile on my face as he bounded onto the stage. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” he asked brightly.

Shrieks of excited fans immediately filled the concert hall. Kiro chuckled.

“Glad to hear it. It’s so good to see everyone. Thank you all so much for coming to this performance—”

“I LOVE YOU KIRO!” a fan shouted.

Kiro beamed. “I love you too. I love all of you. I can’t put into words how much it means to me to have support from fans like mine. You’re all always so excited and enthusiastic. For a guy like me, nothing could be better. I’m so thankful to each and every one of you.” He cleared his throat. “Tonight, I’d like to dedicate this performance to my best friend. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to finish half the songs on the new album. Mostly because she has the most terrifying glare I have ever seen.”

He glanced over at me while the crowd laughed. I glared at him for calling me out. He smiled slightly and winked.

“Alright! Now that that’s out of the way, who’s ready to get—this—started?!”

The amount of noise that filled the venue made me break out my earplugs before the music even started. I jammed them into my ears and covered them with my hair. I could still hear everything, but it was just muffled enough that my ears weren’t aching in protest.

He started to sing. Most of the venue sang along with him. Including me.

Before we met in that convenience store, I’d always been aware of his music, just never been a huge fan. Sure I heard his songs on the radio all the dang time, but I’d never sought it out. Kiki owned basically all of his albums, and she liked to play them during quiet moments in the office too. I knew his songs but I’d never known much about him besides superstar.

Then we ran into each other and I was instantly charmed by him. That was when I started to really be a fan.

Savin was sitting next to me, pretending he wasn’t Kiro’s manager and agent. I liked to pretend I didn’t realize he flirted with me a lot because it would often get an embarrassed rise out of Kiro, but I knew Savin thought I was attractive.

Victor always thought I was an idiot because he talked about stuff I didn’t know a whole lot about. But if he ever bothered to ask me about subjects I was more knowledgable in, he wouldn’t be so quick to deal out insults to my intelligence. I wasn’t terribly business-savvy was all. But I wasn’t so stupid that I couldn’t tell when Savin was flirting with me. It wasn’t like he was subtle about it. Kiro wasn’t subtle about his flirting either.

And Kiro knew, deep down, that no matter how much his agent flirted with me I only had eyes for Kiro. He pouted when Savin flirted but never threw a fit.

As the concert continued, I glanced at Savin out of the corner of my eye. I wondered if he knew about Kiro’s Evol. Kiro hadn’t directly told me about it yet, but after Victor froze time in the middle of the studio and Kiro wasn’t frozen with it, I knew he had some sort of power.

I suspected it had something to do with his success as an idol. The charm that made everyone fall in love with him. It wasn’t as flashy as Gavin’s power over the wind or as incredibly powerful as Victor’s ability to stop time, but it still made him influential.

And it was lucky that someone as caring as Kiro got a power like that. If someone with the wrong hands could charm anyone into doing anything, that could be catastrophic. Kiro just used it to convince his fans he loved them all and make sure they knew he was genuine when he said it.

Savin probably had no idea.

I went back to watching Kiro.

The stage lights were causing him to sweat. His gold bangs clung to his forehead in places. He’d removed the jacket he’d jumped onto stage wearing, throwing it over the back of the piano to reveal the pale yellow tank top underneath it.

I leaned over to Savin. “Does he wear all that jewelry by choice or because his stylist says so?” I called over the blasting music.

Savin regarded Kiro thoughtfully. “A mixture of both,” he said. “The earrings and ring are all him. Most of his necklaces are his stylist’s idea. Same with the bracelets and every other ring besides the one on his right pointer finger.”

“Cool. Just wondering.”

We went back to watching the concert.

At intermission, we got up and slipped backstage as subtly as we could.

“Miss Chips!” Kiro exclaimed, wiping his sweat off on a towel that he quickly handed to a staff member before rushing to me and throwing his arms around me. “You came!”

“Ew—Kiro you’re all sweaty!” I protested—with a laugh so he knew I wasn’t actually cross with him. He let me go with a pout. I whacked him lightly in the arm with the back of my hand. “And of course I came, silly! I wasn’t going to miss this for the world!”

He laughed and ruffled my hair. “Thanks. I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Well, I’m happy to be here.” I smiled and gave him another hug so he knew I was being genuine.

“Kiro, go change!” Another staff member shouted.

“Oh right!” Kiro said, eyes going wide. He grabbed my hand. “I gotta get out of these sweaty clothes for Act Two but I’ll be right back!”

I smiled. “Of course,” I said. “I’ll be right here.”

He rushed off, fingers clinging to mine for as long as he could before losing contact and breaking into a run. I chuckled and leaned against the wall. Savin had his arms folded.

“I never see him as happy as he is with you,” Savin said.

“Well… sometimes we just need one friend who doesn’t judge us for everything we do. Kiro’s been lucky to not fall out of public favor yet because he’s so charming and kind, but he knows he can be himself with me. If he gets mad, I won’t destroy his career. If he has a breakdown from stress, I’m not going to report it for all the world to see. He can be his private self with me instead of his public performance. So I think it relieves him to be around me.”

Savin hummed in thought. “I’m grateful you two are such good friends.”

“He’s easy to be around.” I shrugged.

“How did you two even meet anyway?”

“Luck,” I said, completely dodging the question. Kiro hadn’t told him about the convenience store? Alright then. I wouldn’t either. “I mean, I’m a producer. I bump into people of various levels of fame for work a lot.”

That was acceptable, right?

Kiro came bounding back to us in a new outfit, this one just a tank top and jeans, completely foregoing a jacket to cover his arms and shoulders. He had a makeup case in his hand and was hastily smearing it over his face to try and stop his skin from being shiny before he started sweating under stage lights again.

“Told you I’d be right back!”

“Yes, you’re very punctual,” I said playfully. “Here. Let me get your forehead. You completely missed a patch.”

“I did?” He complained.

“Yup!”

“That’s what happens when you don’t use a mirror,” Savin remarked. I took the makeup and sponge applicator from his hands and started filling in the spots Kiro missed.

“Hold still—you’re like a squirmy puppy!” I chided. He froze under my fingers, eyes wide. “Thank you!”

He gave me a sheepish smile. I smiled back. Gosh this man was adorable.

I made quick work of his makeup and then we were being pulled in different directions. Savin was pulling me back to our seats and the other staff was pulling Kiro back toward the stage. Someone handed him an energy drink.

“Oh that’s not gonna be good,” I muttered as a door swung shut, cutting off my field of vision.

We retook our seats just in time for Kiro to jump back onstage with all the energy of a sunlit tornado. “Aaand we’re back!” he called.

Fans screamed. Savin and I chuckled.

“Hey Savin.”

“Yeah?”

“I bet you a bottle of soda that Kiro has a massive sugar crash right after the show.”

Savin chuckled. “You’re on. We’ll go visit after the show and see how he is.”

I laughed.

Kiro stopped entertaining the crowd with his sense of humor and went back to his songs. He started it with one of his most popular love songs from his first-ever album. The crowd sang along enthusiastically. Out of the corner of my eye, Savin scrunched his eyebrows and looked down at his phone.

“What is it?” I asked.

“This wasn’t on the original setlist,” he said.

At that moment, Kiro looked over at me. His smile grew wider—but I had no idea how he could even see me past the stage lights—and he shot me a wink. The image of his wink on the two jumbotrons flanking the stage made the fans scream.

No one but me knew who he was looking at.

I sang along for the whole rest of the concert with the all of the other fans and then followed Savin backstage once again when it was over. We were told once it was over, Kiro went right to the dressing room and hadn’t emerged yet. He’d done two encores in order to finish the setlist after inserting his old love song and I didn’t blame him for being exhausted.

I followed a staff member to his dressing room—that had a big star on the door.

Knocking gently, I called, “Kiro? You in there?”

Rustling preceded Kiro opening the door. “Miss Chips,” he greeted softly. His hair was a sweaty mess and his eyelids were drooping. “C’mere.” He pulled me into his arms and planted his nose in my hair. “‘M tired.”

“I know. But you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

“Can I go to sleep now?”

“Yeah. We’ll load you up in the car and then you can sleep all you want,” I replied.

Savin nodded to me.

“C’n you… stay?” Kiro mumbled.

“Of course. I’ll stay with you as long as you want.”

He smiled into my hair. I felt it rather than saw it. He leaned heavily on me as I followed Savin to the back of the venue and into the car. Kiro draped himself over my lap and almost immediately passed out.

Savin got in the driver’s seat.

“He’s out,” I said.

“Just tell me what kind of soda you want,” he joked, starting the car.

I played with Kiro’s hair on the drive back to his villa, twisting it around my fingers, eyelids drooping myself. It was late and concerts were draining.

When we got back to his place, we roused Kiro, but I doubted he was actually awake. He walked back to his room while still relying on me for guidance and support, but he didn’t speak. I imagined it was like when I got my wisdom teeth out—at some point I’d walked from the surgery table to the recovery room table, but I don’t remember it at all due to the anesthetic. I figured Kiro’s post-concert exhaustion was similar.

Once I got Kiro all tucked in, I returned to the front of the house. Savin was waiting for me.

“C’mon. I’ll drive you home,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Shall we pick up a soda on the way?”

“Nah. I just wanna go home and get some sleep. We’ll take a rain check. Next time we see each other you can grab me a soda.”

“Deal.”

We went and got back in the car. Savin started it and then paused while he pulled his seatbelt on.

I glanced at him. “Something wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Nothing,” he replied. Clicking his seatbelt into place, we started to drive off. I supplied the address of my apartment building and then settled into silence, perfectly content to let the classical music radio station fill the time between Kiro’s house and my building.

Savin, apparently, was not.

“You and Kiro seem close.”

“Well, I don't imagine he has many other friends.” I shrugged. “He’s always touring or writing new songs or being swamped by fans. It’s sad but natural that he should cling to the one friendship he has that really isn’t work-related.”

Savin opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t get the chance because I cut him off.

“Humans are aggressively social creatures by nature—it’s how we survive. Taking care of each other, forming bonds. I mean—humans bond with Roombas for goodness’ sake! We want to care for the people around us. Kiro doesn’t get that chance as often as a non-celebrity would. And then I come along and I’m kind and relatively calm and offering unconditional friendship. Of course he’d grab that like a life-preserver ring and hang on as tight as he could.”

Savin sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Do you think there’s something I can do about—”

“No and I don’t think you should try,” I interrupted vehemently. “You may be his manager but you don’t have to manage every single aspect of his life. You could loosen up a bit and give him leave to make more friends but you absolutely should not try to force anything.”

“Alright. You’re right.”

“Thanks.” Sometimes it was nice to hear that I was right when I spent half of my professional life listening to Victor tell me I was always wrong. I glanced out the window and watched the landscape pass.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Savin asked.

“Who, Kiro?” Given my mind had drifted to Victor for a moment I had to make sure I hadn’t mentioned any of it out loud and changed the subject of the conversation.

“Yeah.”

I felt my ears burn and knew I must have been going red—thank goodness we were driving in the dark of late-night.

“Well, I, uh…”

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I, uh, I do love him—I know that much. But I don’t know if I love him… romantically. We’ve kinda been dancing around that for a while and… we haven’t really had many chances to explore the nature of our relationship in that regard. I’d do anything for him that I could within my power and I really just want to see him happy more than anything.”

Savin cleared his throat. “… Right,” he said, clearly unsure of how to respond to that.

I sighed and went back to watching the landscape fly by out the window. “He may act a lot like a boy but he’s a good man,” I added thoughtfully.

———

“Yeah that first problem when all the other hackers were in the room was too easy,” Kiro remarked while we were hanging out at his house. I was writing a show proposal to report to Victor and Kiro was doing… something. He had a laptop open too but he typed a lot faster than I did and I couldn’t see his screen. He could have been hacking—he could have been writing a new song. I had no idea. I felt like songwriting was more of a spiral-bound notebook thing.

“You call that ‘easy’?” I asked, looking up from my screen in confusion. “Really?”

He snickered. “Oh yeah. I’ve broken codes waaay harder than that over breakfast.

“Kiro!”

“What? It’s true.” He smiled at me—that bright, pleasant smile that made everyone’s problems feel like they were melting away.

“So. You said your mentor gave you the name Kiro. Was this the same mentor who passed the mantle of Key onto you? Or did you have a superstar mentor and a hacker mentor?”

That made him laugh. “It was the same mentor. He gave me Kiro. To be honest I don’t really remember what my name was before that. It’s been so long and, really, it doesn’t matter anymore. I am who I am and Kiro is a big part of that,” he said thoughtfully. It was one of those moments of profound maturity where the playful Kiro took a backseat to show off that he really was an incredibly wise, intelligent guy.

———

We’d had that conversation not long after the summit, hanging out at his place. It really solidified for me that he was an extremely complex person and a good one on top of that.

Savin dropped me off at my apartment building and waved as I ducked inside. By the time I got up to my unit, he’d driven off.

Exhausted—since concerts lasted forever and getting out of one was a whole time commitment in itself due to traffic—I took a shower, put on my pajamas, and fell right to sleep.

I don’t remember any of the dreams I had. To me, my sleep felt dreamless. A long expanse of healing blackness that ended with a loud vibration of my phone against the mug on my bedside table. Grumbling to myself, I cursed last-night-me for setting my phone so it was pressed against the ceramic mug.

I smacked around on my bedside until I found my phone. The buzzing wasn’t an alarm. It was my day off.

It was a text.

Kiro: Thanks for everything last night, Miss Chips. You really are the best <3

I smiled.

Me: You’re welcome, Kiro. It’s my pleasure :-)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Hey, can you please write something for Icy/Ogron? I dont know where that comes from...I just though of it and idk really liked it. Maybe their first kiss?

Sorry for the wait lol. Warning for drug abuse mentions. 

Also sorry for the formatting issues; idk why some letters are bolded lol.

The lights cut out and the final echos of a wailing guitar lose themselves in a fair sized crowd. They are lost further beneath a round of cheers and claps. It is an exhilarating energy. Yet Icy can’t say that she shares it. In fact she is the first to leave the stage. She takes her guitar and heads off. She is certain that Darcy and Stormy aren’t particularly pleased with this new habit of hers. 

It is better than her old habit.

Perhaps if they knew then they would understand. But she has kept things under wraps.

She probably shouldn’t have come along on the tour at all, she can hardly last a full setlist, by the end of it she is physically shaky and exhausted.  

She leans her guitar against the wall and runs a hand through her hair. God, her head hurt. She can hear Darcy making their closing statements and Stormy promising an acapella encore. The third one of the tour.

The crowds are probably getting aggravated with her for leaving the stage so early. She wonders if she should even be in the band anymore. 

Icy rummages through her purse and picks out a stick of peppermint. It does a decent job of stimulating the feeling of a cigarette between her lips, but it lacks the kick she craves. That her body craves. 

The withdrawal symptoms are tapering off, but not enough to alleviate the longing. She tries to focus in on the taste of peppermint. It is strong and potent and somehow soothing. She leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. 

“Hey.” 

Icy’s head snaps in the direction of the voice. 

“Sorry.” Ogron mutters. 

“I thought that you went back to your tour bus.”

“I left my wallet here somewhere, I think.”  

“And here I thought I’d get to keep it.” She reaches into her pocket and holds it up. 

“How’d your show go?” He asks as he takes the wallet. 

“Not as well as yours. Perhaps your band ought to headline instead.” 

He pulls out a chair. “Eh…” He shrugs. “Wizards Of The Black Circle isn’t as well known as The Trix.” 

“True.” She mutters her agreement. “Our band is the greatest band in the magical dimension.” But she wouldn’t mind passing the headline act to the Wizards if it means a break from the headache inducing flashing lights. “You haven’t heard, have you?”

“Heard what?” Ogron inquires.

“That the quality of our shows have been declining and that it’s my fault.” She shrugs.

“No, I haven’t heard anything of the sort. I feel like your shoes have been excellent.” He replies.

Icy gives an indignant sniff. “They have been subpar.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I have a tendency to leave stage early. It’s hard to have an encore with no guitar.”

“Why don’t you go back on then?”

“I probably shouldn’t be performing in the first place.” Icy shrugs. “That’s what my doctor says. My addiction therapist says that I should leave the rock scene entirely.” She takes a small bite if the peppermint stick. “Too many drugs here or something like that.” She is well aware that Ogron reeks of tobacco. Whether it is from his own cigarettes or the perfume of his tour bus, she can’t say.

“How long you been clean for?”

She twirls the peppermint stick between her fingers, “about a month and a half.”

“Oh so pretty recent then…” He trails off. “Gotta give you props for going on stage at all. Been a little over a year for me.” He nods. “Gantlos doesn’t make staying that way easy. I know he means well when offering me a light, but I’m worried that one of these days I’ll say yes.”

Icy nods. She supposes that Stormy’s offers have the same effect. It helps even less when Lucy and her crew blow smoke in her face and ask when she’d become such a buzzkill. “Sex drugs and rock n roll.” Lucy quoted. “You used to be fun. You used to be the most badass rocker in the industry.” Icy is almost certain that this is what her therapist meant by the rock scene being detrimental to her progress.

And perhaps Lucy’s commentary was justified after years of Icy mocking her for being new to the industry. Not that that had stopped Icy from snapping at her. She snaps at Darcy when the woman suggests that she tries to last a full show.

She goes off on most everyone for the simplest things. Her hair stylist had quit some days back.

“It gets easier the longer you’re clean.”

It sounds about right, but at the moment Icy isn’t so certain, “sure, if you say so.” She rolls her eyes.

“It does.” He insists and she decides that he is probably right. She has gone through the worst of it; the sleepless nights of sweating and inexplicable anxiety. The nausea and the unbearable headaches.

Her concentration still wavers and sleep is still hard to come by, especially when the headaches persist; even if they aren’t so intense as they were the first few days. She is irritable and edgy on most days but at least the sickly feeling has gone. At least she can take care of herself again.

“Lucy is a pain in the ass.” She grumbles.

“The front woman of Draconian Era?”

Icy nods.

“I’m sure she won’t be as unbearable when her voice is hoarse while yours is still strong.”

“I don’t do vocals.” Icy mutters, “that’s Darcy’s job.”

“Still.” Ogron shrugs. “I feel like it’s some kind of display of strength and power to resist the cravings.”

Icy almost laughs. So the man knew what to say to get her to see his point. “I do like power…”

She isn’t sure why she hasn’t talked to him more before tonight.

“I’ve heard.” He chuckles. “Weren’t you trying to take over the world before this?”

Icy nods.

“So how do three witches go from conquerors to rockstars?”

“The same way that evil fairy hunters do, I imagine. Honestly having a large fandom is close enough to having subjects.” Icy finishes her peppermint stick. “They do what I tell them to; I say sing along, they do. I say clap, they clap. I’ve gotten my fans to buy my drinks and carry my guitar. That’s close enough to taking over the world for me.”

“Brilliant.” Ogron laughs, “I wish I thought of that.”

She catches him looking at his watch. She can feel the headache coming on anyhow and realizes that she is well overdue for a cup of tea. That usually helps with the pounding.

“Hey, well, we can chat more before the show tomorrow” he offers, “maybe go out for drinks…or lunch.”

“Sure.” Icy says.

He leans over and kisses her forehead. “Night.” He gives her a small salute and begins walking away.

She lets him walk a few paces before deciding that she doesn’t want to spend another night alone–not that she hasn’t requested such and left Darcy and Stormy in a separate hotel room. “Come to the tour bus with me?” She requests.

Ogron pauses. “I guess I can use a break from cigarette smoke and Duman’s sexcapades. "Let me just tell the guys.”

“Works for me.” Icy replies. “Going to the hotel separate will probably spare us some headlines anyhow.”

[bdluejay]

TWRP + The Protomen Concert

So I just wanna infodump about the TWRP concert tonight before I forget everything (walls upon walls of text under the cut, youve been warned)

So it was a 1hr 45min drive up to Richmond and it was a fairly nice drive aside from the inevitable traffic. I listened to TWRP’s discography minus TTT because time. About 30 minutes into the drive I’m singing along, dancing a little, and then I realize. I forgot. My fucking. Tickets. Left em right at home. Fuck. So it takes me 20 minutes to overcome the shock and try to figure out what to do. I didn’t have enough time to turn around and drive back, but the interstate was too narrow and going too fast for me to pull over and figure out what to do so I kept driving and hoping that I was gonna figure it out when I got there. So the rest of the drive goes smoothly, not too much traffic, and I didn’t get lost after I exited the interstate! I got a spot on the lot right next to the venue so I didn’t have to walk at all which was awesome. So I get down to the end of the line and say, “Is this where the cool people are? Haha!” y’know, like a nerd, and I start talking to the people in line with me. And I shit you not, before I even get to say much, the person in front of me goes, “Hey, do you need an extra ticket?” Like, holy shit, really? How fucking lucky was I! I get in line right behind a person who has an extra ticket and they offer it before I even say anything. What a godsend. So I relax finally and enjoy talkin to the folks in line and try not to piss myself because I’ve had half a bottle of water and a smoothie in the past 2 hours.

So it turns 6 and the doors open and we come flooding in, I get to use the bathroom and the head over to the stage to secure a spot. I get about 3 or 4 people between me and the stage and I’m pretty content because it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to the stage at a concert before.  Then I feel a tap on my shoulder and this guys says hi and gestures to my shirt (I was wearing the shirt for NSP’s Tour de Force tour) and asked which show I went to. Apparently we both went to the one at silver spring which was sick and we started talking about our mutual love of TWRP and a bunch of other stuff. He (collin was his name, im pretty sure?) was super sweet and nice and easy to talk to and we both went hoarse because we talked for the whole hour we were waiting for the show to start lol. He actually had some cough drops bc he was overcoming a cold and gave me one which was super nice.

SO the lights dim and the boys come out one by one, Havve, Meouch, Phobos, then Sung on his stupid hoverboard that I love. And they start playing Back in Town and I’m like o FUCK and they play generous dimensions and im like fuck yeah and they do their dumb schtick that never gets old “that was song #5, and next is song #11, and song #11 goes out to all the ladies out here tonight” and like a sucker i laugh and cheer every time. the setlist is super fuzzy for me but they played life party and i kinda almost cried cause god i really love that song a lot. and they played this like, holy shit amazing medley of a bunch of their songs all the way from 2nite to TTT and i totally wasnt expecting it at all but it was really amazing, i wish i had recorded the whole thing (fingers crossed that someone else has) but they played parts of pale blue dot which is my fave TWRP song and thats all i wanted and needed. ladyworld was awesome, and ending it with all night forever was absolutely perfect, kinda tying the whole set together with the beginning and end of return to wherever. TWRPs whole set was phenomenal and i had so much fun dancing and singing along. i didnt wanna blink the whole time because i wanted to see everything i could and they were just great and i gotta stop talkin about them cause im just gonna end up in a loop saying how much i love TWRP and how amazing they were tonight. 

but then. the protomen come out. and they play phantom racer. and just. holy. fucking. shit. twrp has such a chill vibe and their energy is good but the second the protomen came out the energy went from 100 to a MILLION. twrp and protomens performance of phantom racer was just. amazing. no, amazing is an understatement, but theres really no words to describe just how fucking fantastic they both were together. i wish i could relive that song over and over again forever. the feeling of absolute joy and excitement and happiness i felt during that performance is something i wish i could bottle and experience forever.

so onto the protomen. i had never listened to any of their music before the concert other than phantom racer. but holy SHIT. they fucking rocked it. i was blown away by how talented everyone was. the two lead singers were powerful and amazing, the music was just, *italian finger kiss* MWAH that good shit, like, tomorrow i gotta listen to all their music because every single song they played i immediately loved. and i cant neglect to mention their stage presence. these guys were so cool and intense and their whole vibe was so fuckin rockin. i mean, the metallic gray facepaint and bandanas and sunglasses and masks and helments and robot gun arms????? fuck YEAH!!!!! like i had hopeful expectations for the protomen but they blew me outta the fucking water holy shit. seriously i regret that i didnt listen to them beforehand or i woulda been headbanging so hard. also at the end one of the guys stage dove and i almost got to touch him but i was scared to get under him cause im not very strong and i didnt wanna drop a whole man onto myself. but yeah they were sick.

oh and speaking of headbanging there were a few dudes in front me who were SO energetic and pumped for the protomen like, it was infectious. they danced so hard and they like did this little dance with a couple other people that kinda reminded me of a ska dance?? like yknow the one where you just kinda kick your legs?? idk but they seemed to be having a lot of fun and it made me smile. they also had a 4 person mosh pit and i got knocked around a few times (its okay, i know how it is getting really excited and a lil too rowdy, i was fine) but like those dude were so fun and their excitement was so infectious i couldnt help but smile and have more fun. i got to talk with them some while we were in line for merch and since i was there for TWRP and they were there for the protomen we both gushed about how much we loved each band with all our hearts. they were also super sweet and walked me to my car because i was anxious to walk alone in a city that id never been to before.

so yeah!! tonght was an amazing experience that i hope to never forget. i met some super nice people and talked myself hoarse and had such an amazing time and im so glad that everything turned out how it did. thank you to twrp, the protomen, the broadberry staff, that one person in line, collin, and those two rockin protomen fans for making tonight a wonderful and perfect night.