#obviously I don’t really but STILL!!!!

[mcnuggyy]

ough :-( realizing I may have to ship another box cause I underestimated just how much art stuff and clothes I still have left waa </3

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

but also like. guys you don’t need to leave the minecraft youtube community bc one person is bad to clarify. like. shelby is a minecraft youtuber. a lot of her friends are minecraft youtubers. those friends are supportive and as far as we know all believe her. the vast majority of minecraft youtubers are like. fine. this shit is something that Happens because Abusers are Manipulative, going to another hobby will Not shield you from anything and you’re not immoral for liking something bad people also liked. which is. one of the biggest video games ever. like in this situation no one was knowingly harbouring an abuser and it seems everyone was supportive. this is just a case of some people being shit, not anything to do with mcyt. hell, the guy hasn’t been on minecraft in like a year lmao.

i fully understand why the content might be uncomfortable to you guys now but like, please don’t self flagellate and cut yourself off from an entire genre of media because of one guy again. i saw that happen after the dream stuff and a lot of people ended up losing important things because they made rash decisions and felt like they Had to leave. but please. take one deep fucking breath. this has happened before. this has happened so much before, and in ways far worse than this. because abusers, unfortunately, exist. you should not feel guilty for being manipulated by a manipulative abuser, don’t blame yourself. do what you have to, but please, please keep in mind that the majority of minecraft youtube is fine. it is fine to continue engaging with it. it’s fine to be manipulated by an abuser and it’s not your fault. please don’t make rash decisions and end up losing things you care deeply about and being unable to get them back. distance yourself all you want, but please be careful to not do so out of emotional self harm from the guilt. that’s something this fandom encourages far too much- even outside of this- and it’s unhealthy and anyone expecting it of you is cruel.

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Happy new years… let’s stay hydrated together ✨

[stuckinapril]

I don’t understand it when people say that Carrie was also the problem bc she was anxiously attached bc like …. maybe she had a moment or two but for the most part it was absolutely Big being such a selfish prick and then justifying it w “ohhh I have commitment issues bc my last marriage fell through” umm ur a 45 year old BABY actually

[quintessential-candles]

That’s it I’m doing one of those posts that usually get people annoyed at me for my whimsy and silliness

Every note this gets I will clean my room for an extra minute

[beartitled]

The bear creatüre has a bachelor degree now

Yea I graduated uni today 🐻‍❄️🎓🎉

Feels weird tbh 💥

My brain did not register this information yet

Diploma comic reveal when? 👀

[griancraft]

I wish more people were normal about POC, and specifically black, characters in the MCYT fandom. I mean, for obvious reasons related to CCs and all that, but also bc I often feel like I’m doing something wrong because sometimes I’m one of the only people I know how is getting like? Stimming flappy arms excited about my favourite black characters? It’s not like I’m singling them out either I get the exact same way about my favourite non black characters?

It’s jarring to get into skyjacks and see almost equal amounts of art of Jonnit as everyone else because I’ve been in this weirdly passively racist fandom for so long. People are so weird about like CANON (silly canon but) biggri and they make them weirdly toxic when they were so sweet. If it was Scar and Grian you people would be all over it. And dude fucking whatever happened to the way people drew Ponk. And, it’s not even just black ccs and characters. Don’t get me started on the way a lot of Dteam fans back in the day (and still some qsmp fans) talk about Asian women like Tina.

[exyconfessions]

Not to start drama because I know everyone thinks she's the "good one" out of the foxes, but I swear "Renee" is from my hometown and she was kind of known for hanging around with the wrongs types of people if you catch my drift. Renee isn't her real name and it's a widely known rumor that she actually killed a guy a long time ago. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I've never seen anyone talking about it soo.....

.

[alyona11]

Ok time for my big Hadestown hot take and that’s that West End Hadestown doesn’t give you a 100% Hadestown experience. It’s still ridiculously good and 100% worth seeing, don’t get me wrong (I used my opportunity and saw it twice and will likely see it again if I’m in London), but it kinda made me realise a couple of things about OBC production that will always be my Roman Empire and make me deeply upset Broadway is too greedy to give us an OBC proshot.

So, here are some of my thoughts and reflections based on seeing Hadestown live on West End + seeing different versions (including London National theatre proshot) in boots. I think you can pretty solidly say that in Hadestown there are 2 main stories: Orpheus/Eurydice and Hades/Persephone. And even though arguably Orphedice is the main most important story, it my opinion it also wins from Hadesphone story being strong. Which works perfectly in OBC due to Amber Gray and Patrick Page delivering a very deep nuanced performances as their characters.

I think part of the success of Hadestown when it works on its fullest is how it creates a very deep emotional journey. And I feel that regardless which pair of Orpheus and Eurydice you have (if we take Broadway/tour/West End take on the characters) it’ll still work! Like you need to try really hard to mess up orphedice the way people wouldn’t root for Orpheus or wouldn’t empathise with Eurydice because they are so relatable and cute. You instantly love them, they are so so lovable. So orphedice part is one thing in Hadestown that imo works if not always then in 99% of the cases.

Hades and Persephone’s part of the story in the contrary is VERY hard to nail on 100%, in my opinion, and this is literally driving me crazy. Maybe seeing Amber Gray and Patrick page in professional recording awoken some feelings in me, I don’t know. I will state straight away that I also do enjoy other actors’ takes on characters and I do see some very interesting character moments there and there. However, I keep returning to the thought that Amber/Patrick’s characterisation works SO WELL for the main narrative. I’ll try to explain why I think so. Consider it my love letter to the OBC.

First and foremost, I feel like Hadesphone story has a very fine dynamic that the actors have to nail, so you would feel that: 1) these two still love each other; 2) these two are buried under their problems and see no way out, only a miracle (aka Orpheus and his song) can save their marriage.

And if the first one usually works at least due to Epic 3, the second one, imo, often (at least partially) falls victim to acting/directing choices which can cause troubles with point 1 as well. I think one big thing I’ve noticed is that often Persephone’s alcoholism gets forgotten in the acting performance. Like yeah sure her choreography includes drinking from a flask but in comparison to Amber you never get a feeling that she is absolutely wasted. Which, is in my opinion something that you should feel when you’re watching the show and something I was constantly forgetting about when I was watching the show on West End. I feel in Amber’s performance you can constantly see that her Persephone’s feel good attitude is a façade of a broken person who knows that her marriage is going to hell in front of her eyes yet she is too passive and hopeless to try to make an active change (well, she does try in Chant and nothing happens), so her only way is to chase the sense of normality that the “medicine” gives her. But when she is alone, if you get to catch a moment when people are not looking at her, you can see a deep sadness under her positive front and her memory of the old days when everything was more simple. Nevertheless, the main point that the lyrics literally say is that Persephone is blinded by the river of wine. And this is crucial to her character and her relationship with Hades because the story states that even though Hades is a problem and he is an active actor in creating more problems, he is not the only failure in this relationship. Persephone needs to be woken up from her apathy almost as much as Hades does and this is something that we see during If It’s True.

From Hades’ side I feel like it’s not a good decision to make him a total villain because when he is irredeemable you don’t feel like the whole “song that will fix the world” has any chance of working long term. I think Patrick nailed a deep antagonist very well. His Hades is weird and lowkey creepy and alien. He does objectively bad things but when you look at him you can’t stop thinking that he doesn’t operate in regular human logic or morality. When I look at him in Chant, it feels to me that his words about building stuff to impress Persephone are absolutely sincere, and I can absolutely see that his Hades doesn’t understand why she is so upset about it when his intentions are so so clear. Maybe it’s my vision but even before Epic 3 when he is so far gone and buried in his projects and messed up ideas I don’t have a single doubt that Persephone is a single motivator and goal of Patrick Hades’ life and that he literally doesn’t need any other being to care about. And tragically this fixation is what makes him blind to all other things he does even if those things ruin Persephone’s life (and other people’s but tbh I don’t think he cares).

I feel like by removing Persephone’s Chant 2 verse Hadestown created more problems for Hades and Persephone part of the story making it a much harder job for the actors to prove to the audience that Hades and Persephone have a chance to make their relationship work. Like I get that maybe it was a necessary things to do (even though I think the show is much better with it) but it made it so much harder to empathise with this particular part of the story unless the actors use the choices that work in the narrative. Because for example when I was watching the show on West End part of me was wondering “what is Persephone’s deal in all of that, what does she win by staying with Hades?” With the verse, and with Broadway Previews or London 2018 in particular this part was clear: Persephone still loves Hades and believes that he has the opportunity to change and become a better man he used to be. Without the verse, however, the actors should give you the same idea during the show which is a hard task considering Hades and Persephone have only 2 big conversations together (Chant and How Long). So apart from those songs there are only subtle mostly silent moments they get together through which the actors have to convey the same thought which is hella difficult and probably hardly will be appreciated by anyone apart from the people who sit closely.

So, maybe because in the actor combo I saw (Zachary and Lauren), I got a feeling that even though they were great separately, I didn’t feel much chemistry between them as a pair. I think, Persephone seemed pissed and tired of Hades all the time until How Long and I didn’t feel that she still believes in his willingness to change. And Zach Hades despite being entertaining, kinda gives the impression of Hades who has other options, he is not into Persephone enough. The only sparkle appears between the two in Epic III which is still cute but I’m not sure if it works just as well if that’s the first time you see the show? Also considering Zach Hades gives more malicious intent in His Kiss, The Riot it seems that he is not even slightly interested in Orpheus having any opportunity to succeed with his quest. Which is not bad, don’t get me wrong! But in comparison to Patrick who is deeply self projecting into Orpheus to the point where you could see that even though he doesn’t want to let him go, part of him does because it would prove he too could succeed in his challenge of waiting for Persephone, this take seems a bit lacking. And overall because of His Kiss, their promise in Wait For Me doesn’t seem as giving much hope that the story won’t repeat itself next Sunday. Which in its turn makes Orpheus’ sacrifice feel a bit… worthless. If on Broadway, when Orpheus turns, but spring comes again you feel like it is the start of something new: hopefully a kinder and softer time. On West End the show also wants you to feel it but when you think about Hades and Persephone you feel…less certainty that this sacrifice will have a long term effect?

I guess the creators wanted to concentrate on Orpheus and Eurydice more and forget about Hades and Persephone by making them more secondary story or maybe there was a lack of director’s involvement to give the cast some hints on how to make this particular part of the story work better, but it feels to me that in its current state the show works in its 85% power which is still great but once you know there is something missing you can’t stop thinking about it and wishing the show would give you those 15% you crave.

[theswedishpajas]

Ok but what if…

[daily-property-police]

Not sure if you've done this before but Jimmy and Martyn having a picnic with stuffed animals :3 /nf

Day 407- I don’t know enough about fnaf to make a good pic out of it, I hope you don’t mind I combined it with another one. (And misremembered picnic as tea party)

[morurui]

When I first started shipping Benlynn, it was just a joke…but I don’t think it’s a joke anymore I actually really like them as a pairing 😭

[vvitchering]

I think maybe everyone should cool it with the “weird cult” comments regarding the covert, honestly. It wasn’t that funny to begin with but now that it’s the popular describer it’s starting to become a little uncomfy. No one is forced to join, no one is forced to stay. There’s a ton of parallels between them and real world cultures and religions and I just think MAYBE we need to be a little more aware of what message we’re sending when we say “haha that group of people who are in hiding because their lives were/are at stake and who practice anonymity to survive and follow certain rules that I don’t personally understand or like are a weird cult”.

[benbamboozled]

I would actually kind of like the “becomes a doctor and takes over Leslie’s clinic” story…for Damian.

NOT because I think it would be ~ethical~ or idk whatever-the-fuck.

I just really love the concept of Damian having this “I HAVE A BIG IMPORTANT DESTINY” backstory/lineage/bloodline …

…SON OF THE BAT, and all that jazz…

But when he connects with Gotham and the people in it—because Batman should be connected to the people he’s protecting—Damian realizes that he doesn’t actually WANT “his” destiny.

And it’s not about rejecting Batman or his father or his mother or anything like that, but instead about taking what he’s learned and what they’ve given him and shaping it to fit himself.

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[ccherrybloom]

Ashtrays & Antihistamines Pt. 1

oc, m, hayfever, wc: 2.8k

Part 2

CW: foul language and allusions to gay sex lol

~~

a.n. + summary: i don't think i've ever posted a snzfic on this blog, but there's a first for everything, right? featuring my lovely little ocs and their stupid dumb little band. i don't normally write them in snzcerions, but...every now and again i can’t help myself and one slips through the cracks lol. This particular one centers around my absolute shithead of an Irishman, Peter, as he deals with a hayfever flare up for the first time in like…twenty years, lol. of course, ever the lucky one, this begins to happen during the band’s first mini-tour. Cue shenanigans. I hope you all enjoy!

~~

“hH’RRSHhiue!” Peter fell into himself with a harsh sneeze, the band’s rundown van jerking sporadically with its driver’s sudden movement. “Goddamnit!”

“Bless.” Geoff offered lazily from the passenger seat as he turned a page of his book, unbothered by the vehicle’s erratic veer. “That’s like the tenth one since we’ve left Dublin.” The bassist pointed out, shooting the guitarist a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “You alright?”

“Fuckin’ hayfever,” Peter answered as he scrubbed his palm aggressively against the underside of his nose, careful not to put too much pressure against his nose rings. He followed it up with a drawn-out sniffle. “I’m fine. Christ.”

“I don’t remember ya being like this before,” Maurice quipped from the back of the van, leaning forward to join in on the conversation. “I mean hell, ya lived in Dublin fer how many years…?”

“Longer than you, Frenchie.” Peter retorted as he thrust a tattooed hand backwards to try and shove the singer away. Maurice easily dodged with a laugh, swatting at Peter’s hand as Geoff instinctively reached out to steady the van as it began to swerve again. “You can piss right off.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, yer born and bred Irish — who knew all it took was a few months in London for yer own country to turn on ya.”

“I said piss off.”

“Who gives a shit!” Chris suddenly interjected as he pulled his headphones from his ears, a curly lock of the drummer’s dark hair falling between his eyes. “Just keep your bloody eyes on the road! I dunno ‘bout you lot, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”

Maurice backed off with a snicker, hands up in surrender as Peter quickly flipped Chris off in the rear view mirror before returning his full attention to the road.

After Peter and Maurice had both left Dublin for London a few months shy of one another, the four men began to pour almost all of their free time into their passion project, The Undergrounds. Much to their genuine surprise, people seemed to really enjoy their band’s sound and performances, so much so in fact that they’d hit a point where pubs across the UK were beginning to reach out to them, asking the group to come play for their open mic nights, with some even offering payment. With the requests getting further and further away from their homebase in London, the band finally decided to bite the bullet and buy themselves some transportation, namely their shithole of a van lovingly referred to as Van Halen. Despite its old clunkiness, it really did do the trick, and allowed the men to head across the border on their first ever ‘Let’s-Not-Call-It-A-Tour’ Tour. Realistically, with two of the four members being from (or as close to ‘from’ as one could be, in Maurice’s case) Ireland, the band had picked up quite a bit of traction across the small country with the men getting many open mic night requests which they normally had to turn down, much to Peter’s dismay.

At least until now, that is.

Peter had noticed something was off after their show in Dublin the night prior. At first he just assumed he strained his voice singing backup vocals — a product of over-excitement from getting to play in his old stomping grounds. But by morning the scratchiness in his throat lingered and was now accompanied by faint itchiness in his nose that forewarned him of worse yet to come. 

By the time the men packed up their gear and filed into the van late that afternoon, the unwelcoming prickle that had been festering in his nose demanded more attention, and his eyes began to itch in a maddening way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid back in Belfast. Initially he tried to ignore it, chalking it up as a residual reaction to dust from the old pub, or that it had been awhile since Van Halen had gotten a good clean. But as time slowly passed on their nearly three hour drive to Cork, and the itchiness in his sinuses progressed into full-blown sneezing, the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He was immediately thrust back to Belfast, memories of summers spent constantly sneezing thanks to the fields near his old home, his eyes watering, his nose running, each summer spent absolutely miserable. He hadn’t had a hayfever flare-up in years, thinking it was something he had thankfully outgrown once his mum had moved them to Dublin, but yet here it was, back to rear its ugly head once more all these years later. The familiar lush scents of the countryside that used to conjure such vivid memories of home were now turning every intake of breath the guitarist took into a gamble. 

The itchiness in Peter’s nose only seemed to increase in urgency as Van Halen bumped its way through the Irish countryside. The landscape blurred past the windows, a mix of greens and greys under a sky that threatened rain.

“Nearly there.” Geoff hummed, taking a peek at the map app on his phone. “About another twenty or so.”

“Thank fuck.” Peter grumbled with a sniffle, his eyes squinting past the relentless itchiness. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pulled his glasses up slightly before slamming his wrist into one eye and scrubbing hard.

“I think we could all do with a pint,” Maurice chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially you, Peter.” He added, gently poking the man’s shoulder.

Peter managed a weak chuckle in response, his wrist still pressed hard into the corner of his eye. 

“Just keep it steady Pete, yeah?” Chris leaned himself forward and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyes scanning the road ahead. “Not much longer and you can go ahead and drown yourself in whatever local brew you fancy.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but the van hit a particularly bumpy patch of road, jolting everyone inside. Instead he just swore under his breath, turning his full focus back towards the road as Cork began to appear on the horizon.

“There she is.” Geoff whistled, pointing ahead. “Welcome to Cork, lads.”

Peter managed to manoeuvre Van Halen expertly through the narrow streets of Cork despite battling his allergic reaction, the van’s tires crunching over cobblestone as he pulled them into the parking lot of their dingy motel.

“Home sweet home.” Maurice hummed as he clapped a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the other two members filed out. “At least fer the next few days.”

Peter leaned back into the driver’s seat and let his eyes drift closed as he exhaled deeply, shutting off the engine. He only cracked an eye back open when he felt Maurice give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You alright?” The singer asked, his voice low and expression soft.

“I’m grand, Mur.” Peter grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. The real truth of the matter was that he was miserable, itchy, and absolutely dying for a cigarette — not that he cared to say any of that out loud. 

The guitarist pulled off his glasses to give his watery eyes another scrub before continuing. “Just got a fierce bad dose of this nonsense…This shite best be all said and done before our show or I’ll–hh! hH’ITSHHhiue!”

“See, but that’s what we don’t wantcha doin’, actually.” The blonde teased as he patted the guitarist’s shoulder before the other quickly slapped it away as if he were swatting a mosquito.

“You fuck right off, Murry.” Peter sniffled hard, dragging the backside of his hand beneath his nose. “Just get yer shit and get goin’.”

Maurice did as he was told and hopped out of the van with Peter not far behind as the pair hurriedly began to help the others unload. With the sky steadily darkening the four moved quickly, eager to avoid the potential rain. Luckily the unloading and reloading of Van Halen had become more and more familiar with each passing gig, and it didn’t take them long to have all the necessities laid out beside the van, ready to go.

The motel itself was a shabby vintage looking two-story building, its neon sign flickering with an almost uncertain intermittence as if it were clinging onto its last shred of life.

Maurice and Geoff took the lead, carrying the group’s heavier equipment while Chris and Peter followed suit with their four bags. They bustled their way to the reception desk where they were met with a disinterested looking clerk who simply handed them a single worn key with a faded plastic tag attached.

“Yer in room 107.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his magazine.

“Cheers, mate.” Geoff scoffed as he shot the others an exasperated look and snatched the key. He led the group down the dimly lit hallway, their feet dragging against a carpet that had clearly seen better days. When they reached their room Geoff wasted no time unlocking the door and shoving it open, revealing a tightly packed space with two queen beds, a small television, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least two decades.

“Alright, how we doin’ this?” Chris asked as he tossed the bags he had onto the closest bed.

“By drawing straws, of course.” Geoff instructed as he pulled a set of straws he had prepared earlier out of his pocket. “Shortest straw shares with the other shortest straw.”

The others agreed on this being fair enough and drew their straws, quickly comparing them.

“Well, it’s you and me, innit?” Chris said as he held up his short straw next to Peter’s. He gave the other a playful nudge and smirked. “Just don’t go tryin’ nuffin, yeah?”

Peter sniffled thickly and shoved Chris away before pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the rings, and itched it aggressively. “I got enough of ya the first time.” He moved from rubbing his nose to scrubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the way Maurice bristled at the mention of their one-off fling. “Won’t be doin’ that again.” Chris flipped him off and called him a wanker, but he went ahead and ignored that too.

“Hey, Pete,” Geoff called out as he tossed his bag onto the other bed. “Why don’t you take a shower? Might help clear up a bit of that hayfever.”

Peter, who’s eyes had started to glaze over, did his best to nod in the ginger’s general direction. “That’s the best ideee-hha I’ve heard all d—hh! hhUH’DITSHhhiuew! ‘IGKSHhhiueww!” He doubled over hard into cupped hands, his entire body tensing violently with each sneeze before he groaned thickly against his palms. “—all damn day.” He finished on an exhale, voice cracking. “-snf- Jaysus…”

“Bless you.” Geoff offered, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. “You know you really ought to—”

“G’way outta that.” Peter interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he trudged his way to the bathroom, eyes half-lidded. “Last thing I need is yer bloody mother hennin’, Geoffrey.” He added before pulling the door closed behind him. 

Flicking the light switch, Peter had to wait a full second before the dull fluorescents sputtered to life, illuminating the unsightly bathroom as he dragged his feet towards the shower. The tiles were cracked and the floor was splotchy, but he didn’t care, he just wanted some relief. 

The pipes whined in protest as he turned on the taps before water began to sputter out from the shower head. The water pressure seemed abysmal at best, and Peter cursed to himself as he leaned his weight against the sink, waiting for the water to warm. As steam steadily started filling the small space, he could feel the tightness in his sinuses ease up slightly, making his nose run. The liquid caught on his septum ring and trailed rapidly down towards his upper lip. Blowing out an annoyed breath, the guitarist took a second to wipe his nose haphazardly against his sleeve before stripping and stepping into the tub, letting the warm water cascade over him with an appreciative sigh.

Outside of the bathroom Geoff and Maurice were seated on each side of their shared bed as they sorted through their bags.

“Think he’ll live?” Maurice asked as he pulled out his plastic toiletry bag, setting it to the side.

Geoff gave a small shrug in return, glancing towards the bathroom door. “I reckon it could go either way with that dumb git.”

Maurice snorted at this, but his knit brow betrayed his feigned air of nonchalance. “Just hope the shower helps, I s’ppose. Don’t think we can really afford to have him down fer the count.”

Chris, already sprawled out on the other bed, headphones back on, piped up. “Eh, he’ll be alright. Just needs to wash off whatever’s settin’ ‘im off. It’s no big, yeah? You French people are wound too tight.”

Maurice rolled his eyes at this but chose to ignore the drummer’s comment. “I just don’t want anythin’ to screw this up for us.” He murmured as his eyes fell onto the bathroom door. “That’s all.”

“hh-Hh! hH’dDZTShiueww!” Peter sneezed loudly and openly, his head snapping downwards as the shower’s stream continued to steadily pelt against his tattooed back. He blinked hard, eyes bleary as the need to sneeze lingered in his nose like an unwelcome houseguest. Instinctively he brought up a hand to hover over the lower half of his face as his breathing began to come out in shuddering, shallow gasps. “hah…Ha’TdSHhhiuew!” This one bent him double and he swore immediately afterwards, more than a little frustrated as he blew his nose harshly into his hand. Had his hayfever always been this maddening? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had a flare-up, probably pushing two decades at least. The thought that it had come back now during the band’s first tour just pissed him off further.

Sighing, Peter turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching out for one of the worn threadbare towels from the hotel rack. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping the towel dangerously loose around his waist – the only member who had yet to see his dick was Geoffrey, and the guitarist couldn’t give less of a shit if today was the day that changed.

Wiping a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror, Peter allowed himself a moment to peer at his reflection as he dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair and threw on his glasses. His green eyes were still red-rimmed and watery, his nose and cheeks were decorated with a soft dusting of pink…he looked pathetic, but at least the shower was helping him breathe a little easier.

Residual steam billowed out into the cooler room as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, catching the eye of Maurice.

“Peter,” The singer looked up from his bag and offered the dark-haired man a small smile, taking in the other’s lean frame. “How ye fairin’?” 

“Bit better, I’d say.” Peter hummed, though a small sniffle still escaped him as he wandered over to his bag, making Maurice frown.

“Reckon you’re up for a drink?” Geoff asked, not looking up from his phone. “We were thinking of checking out this pub nearby. Interested?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment, turning his back on the others before dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs. “Yeah, g’wan then.” He finally affirmed, clearing his throat against a fist as he fished an old t-shirt from his bag. “Pint’ll do me some good.”

“Are ya sure?” The singer asked, chewing on his lip nervously as Peter wiggled into a pair of jeans. “If yer not feelin’ up for it–”

“Sod off, Maurice, will you?” Chris suddenly retaliated as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Actin’ like you’re his bloody mum or somefin’ just cos you’re shaggin’. Prat.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as Maurice glared daggers at Chris, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. The fact that he and Maurice slept together on occasion wasn’t exactly a secret – their initial one-night stand was how the two had met in the first place, after all – but it wasn’t something that was often discussed amongst the group. Peter personally didn’t care, but Maurice clearly did.

“You don’t see me actin’ like a bloody bellend even though I’ve also sucked his–”

“Ça commence à bien faire!” Maurice shot up suddenly from the bed, cutting Chris off as his native tongue spilled rapidly from his mouth. “Fer the love of God, no more, thank you!” 

The singer hurriedly made a beeline for the hotel room door, grabbing his coat as he rushed past the others, his face absolutely aghast as the others snickered. “Just…hurry up, then! Christ, I need a feckin’ drink…”

“I think we all do.” Geoff huffed as Maurice stepped into the hall. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”