#i went to see a drag show once and people threw rocks at the venue and the people there.

[el-the-cell]

saw a terf on the tube. she had a "girl dick is not real" pin

what a sad world to live in

without girl dick :(

[xgryffinwhore]

mama i’m in love with a hitman

summary: two years with barry what could go wrong? oh yeah hes a murderer-

warnings: some angst, marriage proprosal oop-

you had originally begun acting because it was the only affordable option to get you some time away from your family. ya, you still lived with your family.

anyways, acting became kind of like a release for you. you had been going for about 4 months now, you loved everyone you worked with, they were such great people.

then one day, barry berkman showed up,

and basically changed your life.

the first day you saw him, your heart basically feel out of your ass. holy shit was this guy hot; tall, mysterious, and awkward as hell. perfect.

you took him under your wing, immediately engaging with him and bugging him about his person endeavors and whatnot. you two became inseparable, youre bascially the only reason he even uses his messaging app.

you showed him the ropes of LA, giving him tours of sketchy venues, shitty Chinese restaurants. you always felt so awful for him, dragging him around to every place.

"I'm sorry, barry, im just trying to give you the full LA experience"

"its ok, being seen with the prettiest girl in LA isnt so bad"

yeah, one thing led to another, and you had moved into barry's apartment a year after. your relationship was strong; you cuddle, argue, fuck, all of that modern day romance contraband.

everything was exceptional, other than the fact that he was dragging his feet on marrying you...

yeah, you had dropped some major hints. wedding magazines everywhere, leaving honeymoon deals up on the desktop, evening face timing your friend and talking obnoxiously loud about the idea of getting hitched.

tomorrow was your two year anniversary, and you two had been buzzing about it all week, all the lovey dovey language and such.

"babe, tomorrows the day" he squeezed your shoulders from behind you. you were sitting at the coffee table, and he had just served you toast. "i know old man, didnt think we'd last did ya?" "first of all, im only like four years older than you, second" he kissed you on your temple "i knew you were the one."

in the midst of sipping your coffee and passing back and forth news papers, barry’s phone begins to vibrate; the name “Fuches” catches your eye. who was fuches and why did barry have to step out of the room to answer it?

when he came back he looked ghostly, his complexion pale and his lips quivering slightly. “all ok?” you ask, trying to sound lowkey; “uh um- yep. just have to head out for a bit, they need me at work.”

he left abruptly after, grabbing a hat and his black coat. weird. it was the middle june.

you hadn’t heard from him all day, except for a text at lunch that said

barry: Won’t be home tonight, dont forget to lock up.

your heart sunk, the day before your two year. i mean really what was his damage? you didn’t realize how hard it was to fall asleep without him, you tossed and turned until you eventually caved in and called.

ring...... ring.....

ring..........ring......

‘hey! it’s barry berk-uh um block! leave a message if you want to i guess um ok bye howthefuck do i turnthisthing off-OHH!’

oh how you missed that dorky man, true, it had only been a few hours but his touch was your saving grace. the line beeped and you decided to leave him something

“aha hey bar, y/n here. beds cold without you. miss you. be safe.”

the night way cold and long, you were drifting to sleep. but you heard the front door jangle. you sleepily run down the hall way and run straight into barry. you hugged him, his bosy was stiff and he was trying to inch away from you. "bar!" you whined looking up at him, his nose was bloody and he had a black eye.

“bar?” you wiped his cupid’s bow, the sleepy haze quickly wearing off. he pushes past you “just fell, please just wait for me in bed.” by the time you caught up with him at the bathroom, the door was already shut.

you heard the shower turn on, and you could hear him faintly hiss in pain. he was in there for a while, by the time he got back you could hear the birds chirp, which means it must have been close to 5 am. the sun was still down, and you watch his dark figure slip into bed next you to.

“i love you.” he whispered

“i love you too.” you turned to face him, you knew something was up, you knew he had been hiding something.

“you always leave in the night, when i’m sleeping you always leave barry. is it another women?” barry’s face contorts into a confused scribble. “y/n what? you’re the only one.”

“then why don’t you tell me what you’re really up to. go’s we’ve been dating for two years and you can’t even tell me why you sneak away in the night?!”

barry grabs your hands and puts them close to his face “god y/n i’m sorry happy two years” he gushed and kisses your fingers. a tear trailed down his stubbly cheek. “there are just things i can’t tell you because i don’t want to lose you.”

this hurt you, barry knew all of your deepest secrets, the things you never told anyone other then him. all of this had you worked up, how could he speak to you this way the day of your two year mark? despite his protests, you packed a tooth brush and drove to your friends to stay the night. this was just too much for 3am, you needed space. to clear your head.

you didnt sleep at all that night, you nodded off from 8am to 10, your friend waking you up. "girl i know you dont want to hear this... but barry is outside, hes been parked here since 9" she threw your jeans at you "now go outside and work this shit out, im not prepared to deal with your heart boken ass."

so you put on jeans, and headed for disaster.

you came outside, 'sleepy always looks so good on her' barry thought to himself. you loved him so much, it was so hard to fight with him.

"listen bar, im sorry im just sensitive you know th-"

"y/n"

barry never interrupted you. for as long as you remember there has never once been a time where barry talked over you, or interrupted what you were saying. its something you loved about him, he always seemed so interested in what you had to say, he thought your words where so important.

"yes?"

he pulled a rolled up magazine out of his pack pocket, it was yours, it had faded circles on what cakes and dresses you wanted. he unrolled it and scurried to the 5th page. he pointed at the big raise ranch that you put exclamation points next to.

"this house, i want this house."

he went to the 8th page.

"and this car, we could have that if i stop going to wendys so much"

he giggled to himself and mumbled something about how he knows a guy that can re pair a cooling system.

'uh-um ok barry, what does this have to do with anything? house, car, is this what you drove over here to tell me? you want a better car? you need a bigger house."

he shook his head and trialed to the second page with that beautiful sheath wedding dress, you remembered that.

"youll wear this yeah? some time in the early fall. wouldnt that be nice, still warm, and the leaves-oh the leaves- orange and yellow bring out your eyes so i just figured."

he pulled out the rock, and shit, it didn’t disappoint. you’re not materialistic but what the FUCK?! how did he even afford that-

he slipped it on your finger and you both embraced. messy kisses all over whatever skin you two could find. it was bliss, it was happiness.

you hugged for a while. just sat there reflecting on how far you two had come, and how happy he was going to make you feel for the res rod your life. it’s crazy, you thought marriage wasn’t in the cards for you. but with barry, you can see 5 kids, a dog, and a stupid picket fence.

you were so captured in this moment, you didn’t notice barry’s demeanor change. you looked up and him, he was pale white, staring behind his shoulder at the street. you leaned over his forearm and saw a beat up mom car.

in it was a shaggy dude, didn’t look too much older then barry. he was plump in the face, and his face was aged.

“fuches!?” barry exclaimed.

“come on. we have a hit, i habe your sniper in the back. now.”

another WHAT?

[forthehpfanboys]

Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

-

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame. 

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead. 

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit. 

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling. 

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours. 

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily. 

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead. 

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny. 

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but  he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry. 

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.” 

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers. 

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him. 

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give  George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back. 

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.

[mansions-maiden]

Helloww, I'm here for 3rd request xD

Don't know you like it or not but hw abt MC is sweet, ladylike, polite, never complained, and lovely girl but someday...when comte hold a banquet and yeps mc has low tolerance alcohol and got drunk so herself became 180° 😂😂😂

She started laughing like maniac, shouting and scold the residents like asian mom 😂.

For example : (arthur) DO YOU KNOW WE CALL A HUMAN TYPE LIKE YOU A THOT ?! FROM NOW I'LL CALL YOU ARTHOT

(isaac) OII YOU MINI APPLE BOI, HOW CAN YOU INVENTED CALCULUS?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PRESSURE YOU GIVE TO FUTURE STUDENTS ? I CAN'T EVEN ENJOYED MY SCHOOL LIFE !! YOU MUST KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED TO KILL YOU WHEN I WAS IN HIGHSCHOOLER !!

Etc 😂😂 you can make what kind of screaming+scolding she will throw at them 😂😂😂 The residents ? OH I WANT TO SEE THEIR STUPID SHOCKED FACES AHAHAHA. Take your time writing it xD and thank you so much before my darlingzzz 😘😘😘❤️❤️

This is gonna be a fun one to write! Sorry this took so much time to write! I have been busy with school works. But I’ve been writing it slowly. here you go!  The words in the brackets (..) indicate that she missed saying these words.  I had to write the words in a weird way to show that the words were being slurred by mc. 

I tried writing it to your ask .Hope you like it! 

Everyone was still wearing surprised Pikachu faces as they were staring at sleeping MC. For never had they expected to see the completely hidden side of her.

Previously, that evening~  

MC is sweet and  perfect lady, as described in the ask. But little did the vampires know what they would be witnessing that night. 

The lord of the mansion decided to throw another banquet that night for the second time in the month being the hedonistic man he is. And all the residents were invited, including MC. 

All of them reached the venue that evening and in the banquet halls, many fancy dishes were there, waiting to be eaten by  people. There were finest of the wines brought from the  far away land and the exotic dishes that were never seen before. 

All of the mansion residents gathered in a room(kinda VIP room). All have helped themselves with a drink or two and were chatting away. MC stood against the walls of the room, swirling her champagne glass as she spoke to Sebastian.

All of them continued talking to each other.

After some more time:

MC was still speaking when she began giggling to herself continuously. 

All the residents:  “???????⁇?”

MC:” if only people knew how crazy these idiots are!! bwahahaha!” 

Napoleon: “Who are you talking about MC?”  

MC: “ Who am I ... talkin bout? I talk about the grreeat ‘men’ in history.." mc continued giggling as her words began to slur.

Arthur: "And why exactly are we 'idiots'? "

MC: "who in the world knew that all of these men would have crazy sides no one ever knows!" She began laughing again.

All of them looked at each other and then at MC. They noticed her flushed cheeks and understood the situation. 

“MC, you are quite drunk. You should stop drinking now..” 

“ N-no no no no.. I’m not drunk at all.. see,I only drank 1,2,... 4 glasses of champagne! I want to talk! “ 

MC: “comte! do you know..? arthot went into the town again yesterday even after you shun himm.. But he didn’t let me tell you...! teach him a lesson comte!” MC told as she pretended  that she was holding a gun against Arthotur’s head. 

“What in the world is mademoiselle doing?” Jean asked with a confused stare as Sebastian replied, “In our time period, we show guns with our hands in that way.. it’s a type of pretend play..”. 

“And..wait  what? From when did my name change to Arthot?? Did she misspell it??” Arthur asked looking at her. 

“ Lemme think.. nope.. You’re ..definitely Art..Thot! yup! That’s it!” 

  “Arthur.. come to my room later. I should ‘gently’ remind you the rules of the mansion. “ Arthur gulped audibly as comte stared at him with ‘nothing-is-wrong’ smile.

“Arthur, Dazai-san!! Can (you) come here once??” She suddenly asked them with  puppy eyes as they came forward. She tried to reach their faces but couldn’t. She pouted a little and climbed onto the couch behind her. 

“OWW!! “ Both of them cried in pain as MC twisted each of Arthur’s and Dazai’s ears.  “ how.. how dare youu...!  How dare you tease.. Is..Isaac?! the only baby of this mansion! Poor boy! He’s traumatized because of you!” 

Isaac having the time of his life: “That’s right mc! How dare they tease a bab- wait! Who do you think you’re calling BABY!??! “ Isaac frowned at his yet another new nick name. 

Her feet began wobbling and she fell from the couch onto Mozart.  “Aww man!! I fell off the couch!!! Bu..but.. this pillow is soo smoooth and silkyy.. yayy! A nice pillow for me..! “ She said as she snuggled her face into her’pillow’, aka Mozart’s chest. 

“What do you think you’re doing?! Get her off me! mmph!! “ Mozart began yelling but felt a hand clamped over his mouth. “Shh.. doon’t shout.. and you should.. smile like this. Say CHEEEESE! “ MC said, forcing his lips into a smile with her hands. 

MC kept giggling even when Napoleon and Leonardo helped Mozart and sat her on the couch.

(I'm sorry I know that her giggling is too much but I don't know how drunk person acts exactly ^^;)

Leonardo: "How much did she even drink? Why didn't you stop her Sebas?"

Sebastian: "I'm sorry master Leonardo.. I didn't expect her to drink these many. I thought she had high alcohol tolerance.."

Leonardo (stretching hand towards mc): "Cara mia, you had enough fun, c'mon you need to rest up in the mansion.

MC shook her head vigorously . "Noooo! I don't want to rest! I want to talk to all of you~! Why don't you go to sleep ...? Da Vinci~. You've got your bed AKA them... (Pointing finger towards floor and wall) . I'll sing a lullaby to youu.. "

She began humming the tone of the lullaby as she dragged Leonardo with her.

" Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top

When the wind blows the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall

Down will come baby, cradle and all"

"Go to bed renaissance man! And ! Your cigarillos are confiscated by me! Hmph! " She took the cigarillos from his pockets and threw them into the dustbin.

"MC! You sing so good! It's as if the angel herself has sung the lullaby.. what song is it?" Vincent asked with an excited and curious gaze.

" the lullaby..? T'is from my own time.. god! I miss my old days in college! " Everybody heard small sniffles in the room then. 

They felt helpless seeing her cry. “What’s the matter cherie? Why are you crying? Is something hurting you? “ comte asked approaching her. 

“*sniffle* everything is *hic* alright comte *sniffle, hic*. I just remembered *sniffle* my own time and my friends.. I miss them *sniffle* a lot..” Tears began rolling down her soft cheeks.  Everyone looked at each other.. 

“ A-and.. *sniffle* I also remember the days I used to cry and struggle due to math in college. Especially calculus.. And I’ve heard that Isaac was the one wh- *sniffle* who invented it.. Isn’t it Isaac?”  She asked Isaac through the glassy eyes. 

Isaac: “Y-yeah... it was me..” He lowered his eyes as if he had done a mistake. 

MC grabs Isaac’s lapels weakly and shouted, “Why? Why did you invent calculus?! I remember.. I remember the days I used to stay awakee... until late night, scratching my head and struggling to... to solve them!!    I... hatee.. you !!” She suddenly released him and pushed him back, making him wobble a little. 

Theo: “what the heck hondje?! how much drunk are you!? your mood swings are faster than Arthur’s snarky comments! “ 

MC: “ Hey Theo! Don’t you dare call me Hondje.. You’re the hondje... Who doesn’t allow anyone to come near your darling brother like a guard dog!” 

Theo was very taken back at the sudden backfiring of the nickname. 

MC: “Coming to Vincent and Jean! you both are so adorable.  You’re the epitome of purity. I love you both so much. muah!” She sent a flying kiss to both and both the men’s cheeks flushed a little. 

Napoleon: “Do you have something to say about me MC?” He asked her with curiosity and a little amusement dancing in his eyes. 

MC: “ Well, All I can say ..is.. DON’T GO AROUND KISSING PEOPLE! I can’t.. beliieeve that ‘nightmare of Europe’ went around kissing people.. poor soldiers must have been traumatized..! “ 

“ I can’t believe the nerve of you all to send me to Napoleon’s room early in the morningg!  *gasp* Wait !!This means that all of you have been kissed by him.. didn’t you? Hahahaaa!!”   she continued laughing clutching her stomach hard. 

“Do you know?! There’s a stalker in the mansion who stalks you all 24/7. And he notes it down in his ‘oh no! they didn’t ‘ notebook! It’s none other than our Seba- mmph! “ her voice suddenly came out  muffled as Sebas quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. 

“Wait-who is that stalker??” Dazai asked in confusion. 

“It’s no one Dazai san. She’s just blabbering.”  Sebas quickly replied in a stoic expression. 

“Wow.. she speaks truth when she’s drunk Will..” Vincent told Shakespeare. “ She is.. After all, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart..” Shakespeare told him. 

“Cherie, you must really go back to mansion now. Come, I shall escort you back home..” Comte said worriedly as he approached her. 

“ NO! no comte ~ . See, I-I’m perfectly fine~. And you should stop being a mother comte. For the god’s sake, you’re a man! See, look at your reflection! You’re a handsome man! not a beautiful woman! Ditch all these.. motherly duties and enjoy yourself.~! “  She exclaimed as she turned him towards the mirror. 

“And you all~! stop being such a child and stressing out poor comte! Okay?! repeat after mee! from this day forth, I shall look after myself and never stress out  mama comte!” 

“Do you even like us luv?” Arthur asked her with a knowing smile. 

“Well, yes.. of course! Even though you all are handful.. I love you all a lot! I love you all this..much (spreading her hands on both sides)..I want to.. stay here..for..ever..” 

Suddenly, she felt the world spinning and lost consciousness. But Sebastian caught her by the waist in the nick of time. 

The room suddenly fell silent as the blabbering of a drunk resident stopped. 

“Well well- tonight’s play was rather very interesting.. But the curtains have fallen in a very unexpected way..” Shakespeare said laughing and breaking the silence. 

Sebastian gently laid her on the couch as she slept soundly. “never expected to see this side of cara.. not that I dislike it though..” Leonardo said as he laughed breezily. 

“It felt so entertaining to see her talking her like this.. Though it’s not gentlemanly, I would love to invite her to drinks and make her drunk.. I want to hear those words and keep them to myself..” comte said looking at her. 

“Let’s take her home and call it a day.. And let’s keep it a secret among ouselves...” Napoleon added. Everyone nodded in agreement and started towards mansion, still laughing at her words. That’s how they came to know the completely hidden side of mc that eventful night.  

                  -------------------- THE END   --------------------

 i also wanted to ask you guys if my plots up until now were different or if it feels like I’m writing cliché things..how does it feel? 

[janiedean]

PLEASE tell me about sam >> the world and the rock band au.

OKAY SO:

 sam >>> the world was... originally a thing I wrote for an exchange which then I scrapped bc it got too long and I never finished it, but basically the concept was jon gets robb’s will before he’s elected LC and he accepts being kitn except he goes to sam like PLEASE SAM BE MY HAND OR I CAN’T DO THIS, and then sam was going to proceed on solving Each Single Problem Jon Could Have starting from being friends with theon to finding sansa in the vale to finding arya and sandor to basically really solving everything and it was gonna be jon/sam but eeeeh I quit when sandor showed up bc I lost track of the plot T_T HOWEVER, I WOULD LIKE TO FIND AND QUOTE YOU A BIT WHERE BASICALLY SAM DRAGGED THEON WITH HIM TO THE VALE BC HE WAS SURE THEY’D KILL HIM OTHERWISE WHERE THEON RECOGNIZED SANSA AND TOLD SAM IT WAS HER WHICH IS2G WHEN DND HAD THE SAME THING HAPPEN WITH POD AND BRIENNE IN S5 I SCREAMED BECAUSE I WROTE THIS SHIT IN 2013 OR 2014 AND I SAID WHAT I SAID

“Go, go,” Baelish says, and he looks pale as a sheet as well. At least he didn’t have anything witty to say, Sam thinks before grabbing Theon’s arm and leading him outside the room.

“Stop,” Theon tells him a moment later. “I don’t – I just need some air. I don’t think – I won’t.”

“All right,” Sam agrees before leading him towards a half-open window in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” he says as Theon takes deep, heavy breaths.

“For what?”

“I didn’t even – how did you know?”

“Don’t you think that Ramsay Bolton would have spared me the details?” Theon whispers. “I threw up. Then. And he – he also threw at me handfuls of red hair covered in blood. I told you I could play along.”

Sam thinks that he’s going to be sick.

“But – I need you to listen to me,” Theon whispers then, his voice still shaking, as if he’s forcing himself to say what he’s about to say.

“What?”

“The Lord Protector’s daughter.”

“Yes, what about her?”

“That’s no bastard. She’s Sansa Stark.”

For a moment, Sam is sure he’s heard wrong.

“She’s who?”

“Sansa. She dyed her hair and she’s older than – well, the last time I saw her, but I lived at Winterfell for nine years. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize her?”

And it does make sense. Sansa disappeared from King’s Landing when Baelish went to the Vale, didn’t she? Sam is pretty sure of that.

“And – you saw her when I was telling that story. She looked sick. As much as I felt.”

Oh gods be good. He’s right. Sam wonders how a simple mission suddenly turned out complicated – and if Theon hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have even known, would he?

He thinks about his options.

And then he hopes that he still has some courage left and that he hadn’t exhausted it when he killed an Other.

“All right,” he whispers. “I have no idea of why she’s here, but if she wants to come with… do you think you have it in yourself to go down the mountain twice in one day?”

Theon goes pale all over again. Sam had noticed that he could barely keep his eyes open the first time.

“What’s the plan?” he asks.

“I’m asking her. If it’s true, and if she’s here against her will… well, I already know I’m not getting Baelish’s men. And I’m sure that if I came back with his sister Jon – I mean –”

“You don’t need to call him His Grace,” Theon says, and he sounds almost amused. Barely. As much as someone like him can sound amused. “I couldn’t call Robb like that either.”

“Fine. Jon would like that better than an army, I think. So, do you think you can do it?”

Theon shakes his head again and then looks up at him. “I don’t think that I’d ever want to do it again, but just the fact that you asked first makes me think that I can try it.”

Well then, Sam thinks, that’s settled.

like excuse me but what the fuck

rock band au: okay so I had written this rock band au for jonc/brynden for that last prompt meme I took which I should finish one of these days but like then I was doing this chalenge and I ended up writing a sequel for it where they’re touring with theon who’s like the opening solo act for their band and him and jaime argue in the changing room also theon is with robb who’s the long suffering agent and theon wants jaime to hit on brienne who’s like going to all the concerts and it’s actually finished but I really need to revise it and see if I can put it together with the other one, at the end of it theon and robb had a moment™ backstage while jaime and brienne got together post-concert but here have a snipped or more:

“You know that girl that always is in first row, Lannister?”

“I do, Greyjoy. I very well damn do, and is there a reason you’re gloating at me now?”

“Just saying,” Theon says, and Jaime thinks, don’t finish that sentence, don’t finish that sentence, don't finish that sentence, “that while the time for groupies is over, I mean, supposedly so, considering that you invite her backstage every other moment and that she’s been at each single show of this tour, maybe you could invite her.”

“Can it,” Jaime groans, “no way. I’m not —”

“And why not? Come on, I’ve opened for your band for the entire last month, we drove through half of this bloody fucking country and I know for sure that you’re the only person in it that’s not getting any, and seeing your pretty face, it’s honestly baffling.”

“And since when do you care about how much I’m getting? Are you volunteering?”

Theon laughs, dark hair falling all over his shoulders as he fixes his leather trousers in front of their shared changing room — yes, this venue is so shitty that they have to share rooms in between bands, and fine, Theon’s technically a solo act but he does have a band, and he hopes the others are not being too cramped because their room is so small they can’t even change at the same time. He nods, pleased with his hair, definitely, and then goes to grab a black shirt from his bag and puts it on without closing it. Guess this is the night where he plays with his shirt open making sure his poor manager dies of frustration.

Robb Stark is a saint, Jaime thinks sometimes, because to manage this guy, you really need to have an insane amount of patience.

Good thing that they never needed one and Jon always took care of it, but still.

“I mean,” Theon says, “in the ideal world, I would, but alas, I know that it’s not meant to be. For one, I’m not your Kinsey scale one —”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“What, that you’re a one or that I’m not it?”

“Both, for —”

“I mean,” Theon goes on, “you obviously aren’t a zero or you wouldn’t stare at your bassist’s ass, and honestly also at your guitarist’s, and I wouldn’t exclude, you know, that you three might have had a go at it at some point —”

“That never happened!” Jaime protests, not that he hasn’t entertained that thought once or twice, but still, he doesn’t bat for that team, as a general rule. He just hates that Theon has apparently figured him out that easily.

“Regardless,” Theon goes on, “you’re a one, but if those two are your type, considering they’re both older than you and ginger and blue eyed and I’m not either of that, I think I’m not it. Also, no way you like pitching.”

+ throbb snippet

“So,” Theon says, as he drags Robb towards the back exit, “I might have told Lannister that I’d leave him the changing room for the night.”

“… What,” Robb says, following even if he’s trying to slow him down, “he finally decided to fess up to that poor girl?”

“Oh, that’s to be seen, I just gave him the chance to,” Theon shrugs, “which is why we’re taking a cab and going to the hotel at once.”

“Wait,” Robb says, “we should —”

He never finishes the sentence because Theon presses him against the wall and kisses him and fucking hell, Robb would like to just give in and let him and actually he would like to grab Theon’s shoulders and press him against the fucking wall, except —

“We should wait until the Kingsguard is done,” he breathes, “you agreed to sign those records, but it has to be with them. And people paid for it.”

“Oh, of course, ever the correct person —”

“Theon, I’m your fucking manager, you picked me, it’s not like you can exactly skirt around — obligations,” he groans when Theon sucks a bruise into his neck.

“Right, right, so you’d rather stay here and wait two hours instead of running to the hotel with me? We could make it, you know, if Jimmy Page and Robert Plant could —”

“It’s not the fucking seventies,” Robb groans, wishing Theon would just not press, even if fuck but now he really feels like he’s going to come in his trousers like a fifteen year-old and the fact that he’s definitely been wanting to kiss Theon at least since then is not helping, and yet —

“Really? I missed that memo.”

+ jb snippet

“Sure,” she says, reaching out to grab it, and then she swallows — “You know,” she said, “you sounded… more intense today.”

“Did I,” he says. “How?”

She shrugs, her large shoulders barely slimmed by the black band shirt sporting his face that she’s wearing, and fuck if it was weird being the face of the merchandise, except that it had to happen.

Fucking Targaryen.

“I’m not quite sure,” she says, “just… there was a difference? In the good sense, though. You felt… more immersed, not to say that you’re not usually, it’s just… I don’t know, I felt like crying more than once.”

Oh.

Well.

“Maybe,” he sighs, “I had a conversation with Greyjoy before that made me realize a few things,” he goes on. “I suppose. I don’t know,” he shakes his head, “I just… you’ve been listening to us since before Rhaegar fucked off, and I just — I guess it just sank in that I’m not going back to my former job anytime soon.”

“Can — can I say I’m not sad that you aren’t?”

“You can,” Jaime shrugs, “it’s just, it felt a bit too much. I never signed up for that.”

“But you sing those songs a lot better than he did.”

“Not the first person that told me that, today.”

“But it’s true. He just — he was good. But you just have a whole other delivery.” She blushes, guileless blue eyes staring into his, and he thinks of how she told him that his songs made her survive high school and some kind of ridiculous bet her supposed friends made about her fucking v-card and he just — fuck. She’s so nice. She’s the kind of nice person you wouldn’t presume listens to his fucked up lyrics, and yet.

And yet she does.

[ohnoyoonoh]

thirty days | jaehyun fanfic x reader | TRYOUTS DAY 2 | words | lowkey sexual jokes, but it’s really nothing | “italicized words like this” are them talking in english | italicized words like this are just thoughts

walking around that campus, you taken in the spring breeze. oh the sweet pollen that you didn’t miss. you were an exchange student from the maple trees of canada. you wanted to be part of the exchange program, so you can set foot of your grandparents’ homeland. luckily the university you attend in canada had an exchange program to south korea. you were surprised that the exchange student program was still accepting, usually they end during the beginning of the semester. there was an exception to those who were trying out for a sport, in which a certain family member would be. so, you were able to join him through the exchange student program. your younger brother had moved to south korea with you with high hopes of being part of his favorite college baseball team, the neo university’s neo dragons. he has dreamed to be a dragon ever since he was a liitle boy, but he did fall out of the college’s baseball’s loop once he committed to the college baseball of north america and major league baseball. 

you pulled your phone out of your pocket seeing if your brother texted you back. he didn’t really say when tryouts started or ended. you honestly wondered if he made any new friends. he always was able to make friends wherever he went. he was an open kid and wasn’t afraid to do anything. but, maybe the new air of south korea made him feel timid. you were worried, despite him being happy yesterday night. you were sure that he would be okay, you think. 

seeing there weren’t any new notifications, you sighed. maybe, south korean air has changed him to not talking to you, but you truly knew he was at tryouts, working his hardest. over dinner, he talked about how practice went. he ended up meeting the star pitcher from university of florida, jung jaehyun, and he was nervous that he wouldn’t reach the starter position or even the top five pitchers. he described this jung jaehyun as a little arrogant but defended him as players who try out must be arrogant and confident otherwise, you wouldn’t make the team. but, baseball players aren’t your thing anyways. dating isn’t your thing, no matter how many romance novels you enjoy. 

seeing your phone is already in your hand, you checked your schedule when you could head to the library and study for your classes and complete some assignments. it was a little too early for your brother to leave practice and too late for lunch, so it was perfect to fill empty time to head to the library. you wondered where the library was anyways, you barely knew the campus. you turned your head to see if any students were lingering around to ask where the library is. there weren’t any except two baseball players. are they late to practice? you decided to try your luck anyways, plus they were coming your way 

“hi, i don’t know if you guys are from here. but do you know where the library is?” you questioned. you looked at them, the bright blue dye showing through the shorter male’s baseball cap. the taller male had a natural hair color, but it was longer in length. it seemed similar to the hairstyle you’ve seen from the baseball team back in high school. never again.

“oh, we’re not from here. but we’ve been trying to find the baseball field entrance and we don’t know where it is, we saw the field we needed to be at but the gate there needed like a security pass or something like that. and no one was there, so we thought we went to the wrong one,” the blue-haired male answered, holding his phone up to show the message with the information to where they needed to be. “our team’s phones are off due to a rule from our coach, so we can’t call. the coaches and team manager aren’t picking up our calls.”

you understood, and your assumptions of them being from another university were confirmed. as a student of your university, it would be your job to show them where it was. “ah.. do you want me to show you both where it is?” 

“if you can, but we wouldn’t to take away from your study time,” the black-haired answered your question. you really didn’t have anything better to do anyways. major tests weren’t for another couple of weeks. your group project wasn’t mandatory, neither were any essays due. your part time job as a tutor wasn’t starting until later in the month. in addition to helping them, making friends between the university’s rival would be beneficial to the school, i guess. the baseball field wasn’t even that far. 

“i’m not that busy, plus it would be great to see my brother since it’s still tryouts for them. just follow me,” you smiled, walking the other way. picking up your brother from practice the day before helped you remember where the neo park was. you just needed to find shortcuts, just in case there was a time you were late to a game. today wouldn’t be the day to do that, just play it safe.

“so.. baseball team are all usually together. how did you guys get stranded? unless you’re trying out for the baseball team here,” you asked. the silence was bugging you and couldn’t do it anymore. you could see that they looked at each other, communicating with their eyes. something you and your brother would typically do when you both were in trouble from your mom. finally, the two came into conclusion as they stopped. you guessed that they were deciding who was going to answer as the blue-hared talked first.

“we got lost after eating lunch at the cafeteria. wooseok needed to use the bathroom, so i waited with him. when we got back to where everyone was waiting, they were gone because someone took too long,” he emphasized on someone by looking at him. wooseok threw his hands up in defense, “someone in the restroom was taking forever.”

the blue-haired male grumbled, “or, maybe you took too long taking pictures.”

before wooseok could defend himself, you interrupted them, “it’s okay. you guys will be there in no time.”

the rest of the walk there was silent. you made it to the actual baseball venue but needed to go around to arrive at the actual field. the taller fellow started bickering with the other quietly. you could easily hear what they were talking about. 

“ah, we were here earlier. i told you this was the right way.”

“no, you didn’t. you said that way was the right way.”

so they actually got here, how did they manage to walk ten minutes from the field? you shrugged it off, they probably had more reasons as to why they got separated. reaching the main field, you see multiple teams as the colors differed from the green that the neo dragons wore. 

“thank you for taking us here. we would’ve been late,” the two in front of you bowed in thanks. 

you waved it off, “nah, it’s no problem. have fun with your scrimmages!”

they both nodded. wooseok seemed to see their team, running off. the blue-haired male stayed, “so, i feel bad for taking your time to show us the field.”

“no, you’re good! i get to see my brother play.”

“i wanna pay you back somehow. is it okay if i get your number or like some sort of social media to contact you?” he held his phone out, the notes app opened. you laughed out of nervousness. this was definitely a first for you, well in college of course. typically people only needed your information to do a group project or work.

you taken the phone, wondering what you would give him. the only thing you could think of was your twitter and instagram. “you don’t have to pay me back, but..” your last word lingered as you typed in your social media handles. “here’s my twitter and instagram. i put both just in case.”

receiving his phone back, he bowed and a bright smile was showcased. you couldn’t help but smile back. he talked first, “well-”

the male was cut off by wooseok who came back to retrieve him, “kino, yah! coach is about kick your ass if you don’t hurry up. i told him you were in the restroom. i’m pretty sure he sees you because you’re the only who has bright ass blue hair.”

“well, i gotta go! thanks again, [name].” kino was dragged off by the taller kid. you laughed once they were gone. oh how you missed playing a sport and the relationship between players. watching them go, you were suddenly surprised by a voice behind you. you didn’t hear what they said but you knew that voice anywhere.

“kim dami, stop doing that!” you turned to look at her. “plus, why are you here?”

“just coming by to drop food off for my brother, which i did. then i saw you here with two guys. so...” the ending of her sentence turned sing-songy. you knew what that implied. 

“no. i don’t have a boyfriend. i gave him instagram, because he said he would pay me back,” you crossed your arms. of course, your best friend would tease you, because that’s what best friends are for.

“pay you back in what way?” she suggestively questioned.

“yah! i swear, nothing of that sorts. gosh, you’re so annoying,” you rolled your eyes. you knew dami since you were a baby. growing up, she always had jokes up her sleeves. she knew when to brighten up the mood especially to those who are close to her. 

she hugged you from the side, “you know you love me.”

you grumbled, but you agreed. she was truly a third of your rock. the other third was mark. the last third was gone and not taken by anyone. you didn’t think anyone would fill that void.

“i brought extra food, you wanna sit with me and watch the neo university versus yonsei?” she asked. you knew she was going to drag you anyways whether you liked it or not. to take the safer way, you hummed in agreement. she led you to where she was camping out for the next couple of hours to watch the games. “i heard this was the official cutting day.”

“really? i thought tryouts lasted till tomorrow?” you grabbed an apple slice, eating it as you watched the neo dragons and yonsei eagles finish their warm ups.

“yeah, but usually the last day of tryouts is to see the chemistry of their final decisions. they cut some people out on the results but that’s unlikely. they know who they want already,” she said. “plus the scrimmages last for a couple weeks. today and tomorrow are also to see whether the people they want are truly who they want, because games are typically show how they use their skills. you can practice all you want but if you can’t use those skills, you’re out.”

you nodded, understanding. you found that wooseok and kino were on yonsei university. i think i’m honestly stupid, i can never read sometimes. then, you see your brother with the other dragons. until, he got sent to the bullpen to practice pitching. you sighed, but as long as he makes it will be enough for you. probably not enough for him. 

“since there’s a bunch of players trying out due to the star pitcher from university of florida, they had to use the backup fields,” dami continued to talk. she’s all about sports.”but this field is for the people who have the most likeliness of making the team. i’m glad mark is doing his thing, he’s always been a really good baseball player. i’m just worried that neo dragons will continue plummeting ever since the 07 left for the MLB. but who knows, maybe they can change that. it’s the only sport we’ve not been doing so hot on. plus, they have multiple tournaments to go to. one of them is in japan!”

“damn. i just hope this is a good season for them.”

“me, too. look there he is, the infamous jung jaehyun.”

not gonna lie, but he’s kinda hot.

---

NEOZONE:

@jaehyunxyoonoh​ @powerstobe

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Plus One”

Thanks for reading everyone, Hope you enjoy please feel free to ask questions or give ideas :)

Krill was very interested, if there was one thing he didn’t understand about humans, it was their mating rituals; he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know about their mating habits, but the process of attracting another human could be interesting. Understanding what went into a human monogamous marriage was shaping up to be rather difficult. From what Krill understood so far, the most complex human process involved a serious set of complicated rituals involving a lot of symbolic traditionalism. These included a specific style of dress only for the couple about to be married and all of their guests as well. This ceremony was to take place at a specific time and place and last for a very specific amount of time. Specific words were supposed to be said, and then afterwards there was supposed to be a massive party which included a very specific type of pastry and very specific types of food and human music. Humans were generally obligated to give each other gifts during this time.

Krill, as it turns out was friends enough with Vir’s brother that he was to be one of the “groomsmen.” Or one of the specified group of people important to the groom. Vir had been chosen as the best man which seemed to Krill to mean that he was just the favorite groomsman, of which included Krill and the other brothers. However, due to the nature of the wedding women and men had been included on either side, so that count also included Vir’s sister, and another woman Krill did not recognize.

Captain Vir burst into the room just then wearing one of the special human outfits, a dark blue suit and mat tie with a peach colored flower at the breast pocket. “Damn dude, you look like shit.”

Across the room David made a rude human gesture by raising both his middle fingers, “F*** you, Adam.”

“That’s incest.”

From where she stood, next to David, Vir’s sister gave him the evil eye, “Be nice, Adam. He’s just nervous.”

“Not nervous enough to throw up all over himself, so I don’t feel sorry in the slightest.” He said walking over to help his brother with his tie.

“Didn’t that happen to you once?” David wondered clearly trying to keep his mind off what was going on.

Vir sighed and glanced longingly up at the air, “Airman Mariah Alvarez, I was so nervous I spilled my drink on her and ended up throwing up…… first and last date I ever had.”

David laughed easing some of the tension in the room, “Ok, yeah, I’m not that nervous, and I’m sure Jordan is doing just fine.”

Vir snorted, “Doing more than fine, though I can’t see why he consented to marrying your dumb ass.”

“Least I actually managed to get a date.” His brother snapped back.

“You better be nice to me, I’m the one giving the toast at dinner tonight, and you don’t want me to tell them about the time you-.”

“Ok…. Ok, you made your point.”

Krill wondered quietly if the humans were always this vicious to each other. Vir insisted that it was a human way of showing affection to each other, but he had a hard time believing it. It just wasn’t logical. Why would you intentionally be an ass to someone you like?

Vir finished with his brother and took a step back, “Stop frowning and you might actually look presentable…..” He paused, “Are you sure you’re ok with Sunny being my plus one?”

David rolled his eyes, “For the last time Adam, I don’t mind Sunny. In fact, I like her and she has good taste in music, so YES I’m fine with her coming. Just…. Keep her in back where mom can’t see her for the time being.”

He chuckled, “Alright, now come on, they’re ready for you.”

Krill followed the humans out into the sunny afternoon and onto the spreading grassy park before them. Distantly a glittering blue lake sparkled in the light of the sun. It was an almost perfect day, a very slight breeze, just enough to keep cool in the mid-summer heat pushing the grass to the side in slow undulating waves. The guests were all already seated as David took his position at the front with Vir standing to the side. Sunny stood at the back of the group and, to Krill’s amusement, she was covered in the same peach-orange flowers that decorated the rest of the venue.

The sun shone down from the sky as Krill watched an unknown human larvae make its way up the isle throwing the flowers left and right seeming to be having a very grand time of it. Other humans appeared, and finally the last human wearing white, or some other light color Krill could not identify , moved up taking David by the hands.

There was quiet music playing in the background, and Krill had to try his best not to fall over. Kimber showed up a few minutes later, hair in long golden curls around her tiny shoulders wearing a sharp black suit and shiny black shoes.

She was carrying a ring.

Krill had trouble making out the words that were spoken. Then, the humans kissed and the entire venue erupted into applause. Two weird human things krill would never understand. Humans seemed to enjoy touching each other’s mouths with their mouths, and screaming and hitting themselves to show how pleased they were. It didn’t make much sense.

The sun had just begun to by the time they made their way onto a covered outdoor patio where the party was to take place. Earth’s sky was plastered with vibrant hues of delicate orange, yellow, pink and deep purple. Camera lenses flashed, and small lights burst into existence all around the dance floor. More human music began to play. The new human pair stepped out onto the floor and began to dance. Off to the side Krill could see Sunny watching in focused memorization as the humans spun back and forth, around and around. After dancing alone for a song, other humans slowly began to join them. As seemed traditional, the Vir would have to dance with the second human accompanying the opposite partner.

Krill caught the conversation.

“So do you want lead or follow, not sure how this works…. Rock paper scissors?” Krill was just beginning to notice that very specific types of humans tended to dance with other very specific types of humans. A smaller, curvier human, with a larger square human. Vir and the other were about the same height, build and clothing style.

He wasn’t able to watch for very long as Kimber found him, and with a big grin, she dragged him, floating, onto the dance floor and proceeded to spin them both round and round until Krill was convinced he was going to go right ahead and die.

He finally managed to get away shaking off the spinning confusion as he watched as the party slowly began to ramp up. At some point Vir approached Sunny and held out a hand, “What do you think Sunny, want to dance?”

She seemed pleased and excited, and they did dance, a seven foot tall Drev, and an above six foot human coaching the Drev through simple dance steps. Slowly spinning across the dance floor.

The sun had finally set leaving the covered patio as the only source of light in the dark night. Food was being brought out and the people had taken their seats. The containers they were using the carry the drinks were in odd shapes, Sunny didn’t seem sure how to hold it, but she did enjoy the salad.

There was a sharp chiming sound from across the room, and Krill looked over to see that Vir had taken to his feet and then to a chair, much to the dismay of his brother, and everyone at the party that knew about his prosthetic, “Alright, alright, quiet down everyone… you see, my brother made the mistake of allowing me to make a toast at his wedding…. In front of all you people, so I’m trying to figure out the most embarrassing story I have about him.”

David was still smiling but the look on his face. Krill wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to expect….. With Vir things could go either way.

“But, since it’s his wedding, I’m going to be nice and short so we can all get back to eating and getting sloshed.” He glanced across the table, “Sorry mom.”

“I know everyone says something super special ad mushy about the couple, about how they are meant to be together, and how everything is perfect and no one is surprised, and, while all of that is true, the important thing to me is how my brother saved my life…. It wasn’t’ so long ago that I was in a really dark place, and my brother had to come dig me out. And Jordan was a saint the entire time. Even when my brother had to skip out on meeting parents, and date night, and dinners, and a WEEK long vacation they had spent months planning, Jordan never once complained, never got mad. He was only understanding. The pair of them together are the best people I know. I owe everything to my brother, and by proxy I owe a lot to Jordan too, and the only complaint I have….” A pause, “Is that these two waited this long to get hitched.”

The room broke out into a burst of more humans screaming and hitting themselves. Sunny took up the custom clapping both her upper and lower hands together.

A few more toasts, a few more things to say, and then David stood, “Alright, while we appreciate all the gooey stuff you guys have to say, this is supposed to be a party, and I expect to see you guys do some wildly stupid stuff. So get going.”

***

He would not be disappointed.

Krill ended up under the table at some point as the humans stomped and cavorted around the room knocking over chairs running into each other and dancing wildly with the thudding thrumming beat which had taken over from the delicate dance music. And when he said dancing, it wasn’t the kind of dancing that Krill had become used to, it turned into the humans wildly waving their arms around stomping their feet and rolling in unknowable patterns and confusing circles like ribbons of silk ripped in the wind.

They lifted each other into the air, and threw flowers until there was barely any ground left.

Drunken and confused, the humans stumbled into each other and passed out under tables. Sunny vanished some time during the evening as the party grew even rowdier. He cowered under the table.

Watching from where he was, he saw Vir dancing with the other humans surprisingly sober compared to his friends. One of the other humans in a rather flowy blue garment ended up close to him. The human had a drink in their hand and they looked rather glazed in the eyes.

He didn’t hear their conversation, but he watched Vir turn and then immediately stumble backwards crashing into the floor before scrambling on hands and knees through the dancing figures and then out of sight.

A chair crashed to the ground next to his table, and he yelped in surprise scooting even further towards the center as a couple of humans hit the floor next to him.

 He hid there until morning light danced delicately across the floor casting rays over humans passed out from their late night drinking. Many of the humans had left, but many still remained collapsed others sitting at tables in various states of sleep.

Krill quietly crawled from under the table and went floating around the party not recognizing any of the humans until he moved onto the grass outside of the patio and found Sunny and Vir asleep next to the tent covering. Sunny lay flat on her back in the grass head lolling to the side with Vir tucked against her side under one of her arms head resting against her armored plates. His suit jacket lay over him like a blanket and his tie lay in the grass to the side.

Krill sighed and rolled his eyes looking back at the horrifying aftermath of their party. The collapsed humans, the strewn bodies, it looked like a warzone.

He almost wondered if the Drev way of fighting each other to submission would be less barbaric.

[gotboredwrote]

I’ll Keep You Alive // RMT

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Medical discussions including seasonal allergies/appendicitis (w/blood added in), angst, fluff, swearing Summary: Just because he’s in a band that’s doing really well doesn’t mean Roger doesn’t care about what he used to study. No, he doesn’t want to be a dentist, but he still remembers a bunch of stuff from his biology studies. Little does he know, he would be putting it to use on tour. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: Request/idea from @bensrhapsody, but changed a little bit to better fit what I feel comfortable writing (I got permission, don’t worry). Also, I have her to thank for the title partially as well because I’m a dumb dumb who can write the story but not the title. Never written for Roger before, so hopefully this is up all your alley’s, Roger-stans! (#dontcomeaftermeifitsbad #please #rememberimadeakybabe)

Masterlist

~

Being a roadie had its perks, sure. For one, you got to get close and personal to bands that you otherwise would never be able to afford to see live. Among other things, you got to travel the world, get in shape from moving around so much, and you got paid to top it all off. Not such a bad gig, if you were the one being asked. You had gone on one tour with Queen before, and they liked you enough to ask you to come back for a second one. Of course you took the job, it was never a dull day around the four of them. They each had such distinct personalities, and despite being literal rock gods, all four were wildly smart. Each in different realms, too. Which came in handy from day to day. Brian could tell by the look of the night sky before if the weather was going to be good or bad, John could always help with any tech that broke or malfunctioned, Freddie was a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy, so he helped out where he could, and if anyone was ever not feeling good, Roger could usually tell them what they needed to feel better easily, cheaply, and quickly. You hated feeling like a bother, but one day, you seriously needed Roger’s help, because you feared for your life.

~

[flashback start]

You knew first hand that Roger was really good at helping people get better when they fell ill. On the first tour you went with them, your allergies started kicking in towards the end of the tour, considering it ended in April that year. You were almost debilitated because your body was taking in new pollens and whatnot that it was not used to defending off. Your body was trying its best, but in the end, it was futile because you fell ill anyway. To top it all off, you forgot to pack your usual allergy medication, so you had nothing to help you fend off the sneezing and coughing. Obviously, you really could not hide being sick. Someone will pick up on it, whether the tone of your voice is one octave lower than usual or they hear you sneeze six times in a row. One night, it got really bad, and you were having choking fits every single time you came close to drifting into a slumber, promptly waking you up. Little did you know, you were loud enough to wake up the bandmate on one side of you, and someone from the costume department on the other side of you. The costume designer just checked up on you in the morning, not really thinking anything of the noises coming from your body. The bandmate felt differently. You coughed out of surprise when you heard someone knocking at your door at almost 2:00 in the morning. Slowly, you crawled out of bed, tossing a throw blanket around your shoulders because you felt cold to the touch despite your body breaking out in a sweat. When you got to the door and looked through the peephole, you saw a rat’s nest of blonde locks going in every single direction, leaning up sideways against the door. Before moving your hand to the handle, you knocked quietly to signal to Roger that you were going to open the door so he would not fall sideways into your room. When you looked back through the peephole, hand now on the handle, he had gotten your message and was standing facing the door. You lightly pulled it open, grimacing slightly at the bright lights of the hotel hallway.

“Hi, Roger. Why are you awake?”

“It’s your fault, love. I’m right next to you and I can hear you hacking up a bloody storm.”

“I’m sorry, Roger, it’s just my fucking allergies.”

“You sure? It sounds worse than that.” As if on cue, you hunched over into what felt like the four hundredth cough attack that night, and when you finally stopped, your breathing had turned into wheezing.

“Alright, go sit on your bed, I’ll be right back. I’ll prop the door open so you don’t have to get back up.”

Before you could ask him why he was leaving already, he was out the door, so you just trudged over to your bed, plopping down on it making it bounce lightly and squeak quietly. You were only alone for about fifteen seconds and then Roger came back in, holding a medium-sized black make-up bag. He shut your door and walked over to stand in front of your bedside table.

“Roger, I’m not sure what they taught you in biology school, but make-up is not going to make me feel better.”

“Oi, shut it. Want my help or not, Miss Sarcasm?” He spoke through a smug smile.

“Fine, yeah I want your help. What do you need from me?”

“First, I need you to tell me you trust me.”

“What? Why?”

“Are you really going to make me explain why?”

“Um, yeah. You can’t just say that and make me not be concerned about trusting you.”

“Fine. Basically, on a previous tour, one of the roadies, her name was Maria, got really sick. Like, caught the bad flu strain that was going around that year. I offered to help her by giving her some medication for the nausea and lightheadedness, stuff you can get over-the-counter, but she assumed I was going to drug her. She came about one piece of paperwork away from filing a lawsuit against me and the band. I really don’t want to go through that again when all I’m trying to do is be a nice person.”

“You know, for a drummer in a rock band, you’re pretty eloquent and thoughtful, Roger Taylor.”

“…um…”

“That’s my way of saying I trust you.”

You could hear him breathe out a sigh of relief, probably a combination of knowing he was not going to get sued as well as not having to hear you cough for much longer. He asked you to tell him what all was happening with you so he could see if he had any medication that would cover most of your symptoms. Turns out, everything you described really was just severe seasonal allergies, and he happened to have a stronger allergy medication than what you normally took. He just told you to keep the bottle and use them at your discretion. Follow the instructions on the bottle and you should be good as new within a few days.

“Thanks, Roger. You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know that. But at least this way we both get some sleep, eh? I’ll let myself out. See you tomorrow, love.”

“Goodnight, Roger.”

[flashback end]

If only what you were currently dealing with felt like seasonal allergies. It was not even allergy season, it was the end of November. And the tour had just started less than a month prior. At first, you assumed that you were just having back muscle spasms. You had never experienced them before, so you just guessed this is what they felt like. When the pain first started, it started on your lower right side, and just felt like you pulled something. It went away after a few minutes and you never thought anything of it. Then it happened again, but a little bit more forceful.

“Jesus, is this what contractions are like? Count me out for that.”

Trying to make a funny situation out of the pain you were feeling was not really the smartest plan of action, but it was the only one you could come up with at the moment. The pain kept coming in waves, and each wave was worse than before. Eventually, after a few hours of dealing with the pain on your own, it stopped. Out of thin air, it just went away. Normally, that would be the kind of thing to make a person do a double take and ask themselves ‘what is going on?’ Not you, though, you were just thrilled that the imaginary back contractions were over and done with. Moving on with your day, showtime nearing, you kept doing your job, exchanging words with other roadies and the band here and there. Not once feeling uncomfortable again. You watched the show, and for the first time in four shows, nothing went wrong. All the electronics performed the way they were supposed to, Brian did not snap any strings, nor did John, and Freddie managed to keep his mic stand in once piece. Roger threw a drumstick during a particularly fast song, but you had gifted him a cup to put on his drum kit so he could keep spares in there to grab in case of such an event. It came in handy more often than he would like to admit. After the show, you congratulated the boys on another performance well done, and proceeded to travel back to your hotel room. You guys did not have to travel tonight because they had two sold out shows in a row at the venue they were at, so it was nice to have an actual bed for once. This time around though, you were on a floor that was just crew members. All the band members had rooms on the floor above you guys. Not that any of you minded, it was not like you had a reason to mind. Around three in the morning, you awoke to the feeling of those strange back contraction pains again, this time accompanied by some serious chills. Then you felt it – the pit of your stomach dropped, and you were over the hotel toilet in record time. Initially you thought that maybe this was how your body handled food poisoning, considering you had never had that before. Then you looked at what had come out of you. Bloody.

~

“Roger…Roger?”

You were dragging yourself up the stairwell and down the hallway to his room, calling out to him hoarsely. You knew that he would never have heard you, but you tried, nonetheless. You got to his door, knocked once, and then collapsed on the floor. Startled, Roger shot straight up in bed and sprinted to the door, only in his underwear but not caring. When he opened the door, your head fell flat onto his floor, and he could hear the strangled moans coming from your throat. He could also see the sweat pooling on your forehead, a small bit of dried blood and vomit on the corner of your mouth, and how you were hunched over in the fetal position clutching your stomach.

“Roger…it hurts so much.”

He did not even say a word. He ran over to his hotel phone, and you could barely hear him utter the address of the hotel before you passed out. The next thing you knew, you were woken up by the feeling of an IV going in your arm, as well as the feeling of a moving vehicle. An ambulance. How did you get here? Why was Roger looking at you like that? Then the waves of pain struck you again, and you remembered everything that had happened not thirty minutes prior.

“Oh…God…”

“Ms. Y/L/N, please try not to talk or move, we are trying to prepare you for emergency surgery as soon as we get to the hospital.”

“Emer…gency… surgery? For… for what?”

“Relax, love. You’re gonna be fine.” Roger’s voice broke through all the beeping and liquids sloshing around, grounding you in the scary situation. “I’m just glad you came and got me when you did.” You could feel his hand clamped around yours, sweaty. “I may know how to help with allergies, but this is out of my area of expertise, love.”

“Roger…”

“Hush, love. Try to relax. We’re pulling into the hospital now. I’ll be right by your side when you wake up.”

You tried to respond, but you felt the general anesthesia hit you, and you were out like a light. Roger watched as they moved your body from an ambulance gurney to a hospital gurney and usher you down the hallway following the signs that said “OPERATING ROOM.” He followed you as far as he could, until a male nurse held his hand out flat in front of Roger, forcibly stopping his movement and almost knocking the wind out of him.

“What the fuck mate—”

“Sorry, sir, you can’t go further than this. Please wait in that waiting room right over there. I’ll be sure to have a surgeon assistant come update you throughout the surgery.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s hospital policy. If you could, please make your way over to the waiting area.”

Roger huffed angrily and full of worry, but did what the nurse told him to do. He sat down, seeing all the magazines and children’s games sitting on the tables in front of him. He was too distracted. He was terrified. The last time he knew someone who had to have emergency surgery did not make it out alive. Those two words strung together instantly usher a sense of panic into him that he does not have a way of controlling. The last thing he wanted was for you to not feel good in the first place, but having to sit face to face with the knowledge that you laying in a gurney could be the last image he saw of you was too much. He started to sob. Sobbed himself to sleep. The nurses just watched in pity.

~

“Sir?” Roger felt someone nudge at his shoulder, but he did not fully stir awake yet. “Sir?”

“Huh, what…”

“Sir, I just wanted to update you on the girl you came in with.”

Roger was brought back to reality when he fully opened his eyes. The bright white lights shining above him, the smell of cleanliness, and a lady in scrubs. A little bloody.

“Y/N?”

“Yes. We’re done the hard part. Her appendix has been removed successfully, before any serious rupturing happened. Some small ruptures here and there, but nothing major. Now all the doctor has to do is remove any fluid in her abdominal cavity and stitch her up. Once she’s finished, we will wheel her to recovery and bring you over to her as well. This should all happen within the next hour or so. Is that okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. Thanks for the update, I’m, uh, going to try to go back to sleep now.”

If he had not fallen into such a deep sleep, he would have had more to say. More questions for the nurse. But the nerves he had felt when he saw how broken you were earlier took all the energy out of him, and once he sat in something even the littlest bit comfortable, he passed right out. Just like you had when you hit the floor of his hotel room. Roger laid his head back down on the side of the chair, thinking of your smiling face as he drifted back into the land of sleep. Almost praying that he would get to see it again.

~

Like clockwork, the same nurse from earlier woke Roger up, this time less groggily, and she instructed him to follow her to the recovery area. Where you would be. The fact that he was actually walking there almost brought him to tears. He would get to see your smile again. When he was finally in the back, he saw that they had placed a chair next to your bed for him, with a few magazines. He was told that he would get to sit with you while you were still under the influence of the general anesthesia, but that you would be awake within twenty minutes. He nodded at the nurse, offering a quiet ‘thank you’ and proceeded to sit in the chair. Twenty minutes. He waited over two hours, surely, he could wait twenty minutes to hear your voice again. He could at least see you now, so… baby steps. He tossed the magazines to the floor after realizing that there was no way they could be more interesting than the woman lying in front of him. He scooted his chair forward so his knees were almost pressing against the side of your bed, and he laid his hand on what he assumed was your thigh based on your profile under the sheet. He lightly squeezed, and simultaneously the tears spilled from his eyes. Ones he did not realize were even threatening to fall, nor did he realize the reason for.

“Hi, love. I, uh… I don’t know why I’m bloody crying. But here we are. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you this time. I know you like coming to me for help when you don’t feel good, and… I feel like I just made you break your trust in me. I, uh…” Roger choked a little bit on his tears. It was not like you and him were the closest of friends. If he was being honest, there were other roadies he considered better friends than you. But for reasons outside of your control.

Then it hit him. Like a ton of bricks. There were the roadies whose names he did not know. There were the roadies who he was friends with, and the ones he had previously had a slight friends with benefits situation with. There were the roadies who made him angry. The ones who made him sad. There were the roadies he practically considered family because they had been with him since Smile. Most of these roadies, except for the ones from Smile, never came back for a second tour. Then there was you. You did not fit into any of those categories. He knew your name, he was friends with you, but not with benefits, you never made him angry or sad, you were not with him in his Smile days, and Roger was the one who wanted you to come on a second tour. You had created your own category. There was a roadie he loved.

“I need you to wake up, love. I… need to let you know that I’m gonna get you through this recovery. And that I am never going to let you get sick or hurt again, not under my watch. If you do, I’m going to make you better.”

“Is that a promise, Roger Taylor?”

The tears stopped at his head whipped in the direction of your quiet voice. Your eyes were still almost completely shut, but he could see you looking at him. His heart fluttered when he made eye contact with you, and the tears started up again.

“Yes, it’s a promise, love.”

“Good. Now, please go get me some ice chips, my throat feels like a vultures crotch (we love a borhap reference), and my stomach feels like an anvil landed on it and is somehow twisting it in all directions.”

“You got it, darling.”

~

You were allowed to be discharged the same day, so Roger carefully wheeled you to the taxi he called, and then slowly helped you to the elevator so he could bring you to his room.

“Roger, why aren’t you taking me to my room?”

“Didn’t I promise you that I would be taking care of you? Answering to all of your becking and calling?”

“Are you forgetting that you have a show to do?”

“And I will be helping you until the moment I have to walk onto stage, and the minute we are done, I’ll be right back here helping you.”

Roger carefully helped you lay back on his bed, almost tearing up at the sound of your groans from bending over. Once you were comfortable, with about fourteen pillows behind and surrounding you, he walked over to his phone and called room service.

“Hello, this is room 5667. I’d like to put in a request for the #6 dinner for two, and two pints of [your favorite ice cream {or other dessert if you are lactose intolerant} flavor] to be delivered ASAP. Name? Roger. Thank you.”

“Roger—”

“No words from you. I am eating dinner with you, and then I will be finding a movie for you to watch during the show to enjoy with your favorite dessert. And you cannot pay me, or try and get out of it.”

“If you insist.”

After dinner, Roger flitted about his room gathering up the things he would need to take to the show that he did not keep with the roadies, and you watched him move. Tons of people that you talked to, fans that did not realize that you worked for them, would air their thoughts on the man to you. ‘Such a womanizer!’ ‘A dirty cheater, the wanker.’ ‘Hot down to every single molecule, but not a good personality.’ At first, when you started working for them, you were afraid that they were going to be true. You thought he was going to be an asshole. And he could be. If he was truly mad. That was a very small percentage of the time, despite what people thought. All other times he was a big softie. Kind of melted your heart. Not in the ‘I have feelings for the drummer of a band’ kind of way, just at the fact that a human could be as kind and thoughtful as he was despite the bad boy nature he tried to present himself with. He stuck to your side like a golden retriever, and while you appreciated being doted on, it was a little bit funny seeing it be someone like Roger. You giggled to yourself at your thoughts.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I promise.” You could not stop the wide grin from overtaking your features as you spoke.

“Nobody likes a liar, love. If it didn’t run the risk of popping your stitches, I would be all over you, tickling you to get the answer from you.” Very golden retriever like, that’s for damn sure.

“Okay, okay. If you must know, I was just thinking about how different you really are from the image you present yourself with.”

“Explain?”

“You present yourself as the bad boy drummer that all the girls go crazy for. And I won’t be the person who denies that it has worked for you, in more ways than one, more than once. But I’ve seen you in more situations than band ones. I’ve seen you when you’re vulnerable.” You had to stop to take a drink of water, your throat still pretty dry from the tubes during the surgery. “You really aren’t a tough guy. You’re… genuinely one of the sweetest men I’ve had the pleasure and honor of knowing. You are something else, Roger Taylor. And I feel like I haven’t seen you act the way you do around me around other roadies. Regardless of any circumstance.”

You saw the way Roger tensed at your words, but thought nothing of it. Little did you know, he was fearing that you figured out his feelings. Being the tough guy he is though, he thought of a way to dodge the words you said with a jab of his own. Luckily, he had just finished setting up your movie and getting your ice cream, so he could say it as he walked out the door.

“Well. You have the next three hours to figure out why that is, love. Expect a quiz when I return.”

He lightly placed his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair, electing to do something more friendly than kissing your forehead or something, as to not give anything away. And out the door he went. As soon as you heard the door close, you let out a breath you did not realize you were holding in. He had not even made it out the door before you knew what the answer to his quiz would be.

~

Sweaty. He was sweaty and wanted to shower. By the time he had made it to his room, his shirt had been removed he just wanted to flop down into bed and pass out. After the adrenaline of the show, his brain had completely wiped his memory of you still seated in his bed. You heard the lock of his door, but made no effort to move your head to look in his direction. As soon as you heard the door close behind him, you spoke up.

“I mean something to you, don’t I?”

Roger almost completely jumped out his skin.

“Bloody hell… Y/N, I-I forgot you were here.”

“Did I get your quiz right?”

“Wha—”

“The reason you treat me the way you do. It’s because I mean something to you, isn’t it?”

“I think you need to be more specific than that love, that could…that could mean a lot of things.”

“I don’t want to sound stupid.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“Do… you have feelings… for me?”

Roger just stared at you, wide and glossy eyed, mouth slightly agape, trying to hid how nervous he was. Hands sweaty again.

“That’s why I promised to take care of you. I hated seeing you with allergies.” He started to cry openly. “Imagine how broken I felt when there wasn’t anything I could do for you when you were…practically dying on my hotel floor.”

You just watched him pour out his soul to you, letting him plead for you.

“And-and-and I know that you’ve probably heard the stories of me and certain fans. The women. Have I done that shit sometimes? Yeah. But ever since you’ve joined the team I haven’t. I haven’t done anything. Not even really thought about other women.”

You believed him.

“Would you ever give someone like me a chance?”

“C’mere.”

Roger made his way over to you slowly, unsure of what you were going to do. He was nervous as all hell, because he had never felt like this about any of the women he met, and he did not want to lose you. Eventually he got to the side of his bed where you were sitting, and you motioned for him to sit on the other side of you. Roger felt like he did something wrong, but when he finally plopped down onto the other side of the bed, you reached up to grab his cheek.

“I would have walked over to you and kissed you myself, but my stomach hurts too much.”

Roger laughed with his whole heart and soul. He truly did not expect you to want him back. It made waiting all this time for any form of intimacy so worth it. He kissed you with more passion than he put into his drumming. He even got a little bit too into it and started to move his down your torso, and the minute you felt his fingers below your chest, you grabbed one of the pillows situated to your side and smacked him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for? I was getting into that.”

“Stitches, wanker.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, love.” Permanent Taglist: @bensrhapsody @chlobo6 @gardnerlangway @xtrashmammalstefx

Roger Taylor Taglist: n/a

// If you want to be added to either taglist mentioned above, or the one for another character I’ve written for, send me an ask here! //

[hrhgeorgevi]

[TV REPORT] ON THE MAT VI

(Taped 3 May Fairfield Halls, Croydon)

Welcome

Dougie Wright was sat in the front row of the venue, there was nobody there yet, it was hours before bell time but there were a few people working on putting the finishing touches to the venue including two young boys cleaning the ring. 

‘We have a real treat for you grapple fans tonight. As you may know we originally scheduled to bring you some contests from a recent event in Worthing. But with all the build up and hype to tonight’s show which has been fabulously dubbed ‘The All Star Extravaganza’, we have received many phone calls and letters asking to broadcast the event straight away so We are going to show you three matches form tonight, with the final three more next week and maybe in a few weeks we’ll have a look back at what was a fantastic night of wrestling in Worthing.’

[1] Jackie Joyce © (118lbs, Northampton, England) and Junior ‘Iron Man’ Morgan (187lbs, Kingston, Jamaica) wrestled to a draw in a match for the British Commonwealth Lightweight Championship and Belt. (double count out in 12:35, full match shown) 

The match started at lightening pace with Morgan sending Joyce crashing around the ring with a series of arm drags, dropkick and snapmares. Joyce was on the back foot straight away and unable to control any part of the match.

He was unable to defend himself in the corner as Morgan hit him with some big martial arts kicks that rocked his head back. The referee pulled Morgan away to check on Joyce who was then able to quickly attack Morgan throwing him out of the ring through the ropes. The two brawled around for several minutes with the referee telling them several times they needed to return to the ring. The referee Brian Rodgers was very lenient with his count and the two return to the ring where Morgan had Joyce locked in a figure four leg lock but the Champion was able to get to the ropes before he had to submit.

Morgan started to climb the ropes but Joyce pushed him off and he fell over the top rope to ringside. Joyce looked like he as going to take a count out victory until Morgan grabbed his leg and pulled him out of the ring, rocking him with a big forearm smash. The two continued to brawl, getting extremely close to the font row until the referee was forced to count both men out.

Joyce retuned the championship and belt due to the count out draw.

[2] Jessica Hendrix (112lbs, Austin, Texas, USA) beat Jenny The Farmer’s Daughter (189lbs, Victoria, Colombia, Canada) in the final of the Ladies International Grand Prix (Superkick in 12:l5, full match shown)

Jenny attacked Hendrix straight away but missed a big clothesline to the corner, Hendrix was able to hit two big Dropkicks, but Jenny was quick to cut off the American with a huge back elbow. Hendrix looked to have suffered a head injury but Jenny The Farmer’s Daughter didn't relent with a series of kicks to the spine and one flush in the face. 

The ringside doctor looked concerned as Jenny The Farmer’s Daughter took Jessica Hendrix off her feet not once but twice with blatant punches. She then hit a big suplex but Hendrix was able to kick out.

Jenny The Farmer’s Daughter then hit a package piledriver fora close fall but Hendrix kicked out. Another big kick to the chest and Hendrix was ragdolled to her feet. Hendrix two elbows to the stomach but Jenny threw her back into the corner and then slammed her to the middle of the ring. She went up and sat on the middle rope but missed a splash. Hendrix then hit a superkick for the win.

Following the match she was presented with the Ladies International Grand Prix trophy and a bunch of flowers by Sir Solomon Simpson.

At The Gym

World Trios Champions Los Metallica Panthers were dressed in their sports wear and masks rolling around an empty gym trying out their moves. Metallica Panther III spoke in Spanish with subtitles underneath. ‘Mr Fresno - I am full of respect for you as a wrestler, performer and man. But when we meet in the ring again I will show you why Mexican pride is so important and I will defend my championship once more. It is my goal to raise this belt above my head in Arena Mexico, the true home of Lucha Libre.

[3] Joao Silva © (207lbs,  Albufeira, Portugal) beat Mikolaj Salak (201lbs, Warsaw, Poland) to retain the European Heavy-Middleweight Championship and Bel (18:01 after a Crucifix Powerbomb, full match shown)

The two started off with some exchange of holds, Salak with a reverse hammerlock that Silva beautifully escaped from. Silva then took Salak down to the mat for a headlock but Salak escaped in an equally impressive way before Silva armdragged him in a flashy way just to say he could. 

Salak charged Silva who then hip tossed him and he slit out of the ring to regain his composure.

Once he returned they continued to go hold for hold. Hammerlock into a headlock, headlock into a bear hug, then into an arm bar. Beautiful exchanges of technical wrestling with Silva on top applying pressure to the shoulder joint before Salak was forced to escape with an elbow drop only to then be on the receiving end of a Dropkick. 

Silva used a reverse chin lock before transitioning into a crucifix pin for a one count. Salak returned an elbow and they briefly went to blows before Salak was able to execute an abdominal stretch although Silva eventually escaped by reaching the ropes.

Salak next came off the top with a cross body for a near fall, then a side Russian leg sweep for another near fall. Then then missed a dropkick when Silva held onto the ropes. Silva went to pull up Salak but he was was rolled up into a small package for a close fall. 

Once back on their feet, Salak went again for an abdominal stretch but Silva escaped and lifted him high in the air hitting a Crucifix Powerbomb for the victory. 

Post Match

Dougie Wright interviewed both men in the ring. Salak said it was a tough challenge but now knew what he had to do to be at this level. Silva enjoyed the challenge and congratulated Salak on his wrestling ability 

Next Week

A graphic showed that we will see the three final matches from All Star Extravaganza including the World Lightweight contest between Johnny Fresno and Metallica Panther III.

[fanficsofmine]

Wake Me Up - Chapter 1

Summertime. Young. Single. Free.

You were living your dream life. You had a great place, amazing friends and a steady job. Independent and happy and free, what more could you ask for?

You didn’t think that meeting Chanyeol at a concert or Minho on the beach would influence your life as much as they did. They weren’t supposed to, anyway.

What exactly are you to do with whirlwind romances that show up when you weren’t expecting them?

Characters: Park Chanyeol, Choi Minho, OC’s

Word Count: 2243

Soundtrack: We are the Ones - King the Kid

A/N: This will be posted every Saturday! Enjoy! -Admin T

I took a long drag off of my cigarette and handed my roommate the bottle of merlot we were sharing. She took a swig of it and took a deep breath, taking in the night air. It was nearing 3 am, and this was our weekend routine. After our nights out, or even nights in, we always made time to sit outside together and just breathe.

I glanced over at Desi as she fiddled with her phone to change the song playing. Her pale skin, sky blue eyes, and chin-length blonde hair all shone, even in the darkness of night. She was a calculus major at the University here in town. Her boyfriend was passed out on our couch, (Pre-Law will do that to you,) and they were my two best friends.

I had just moved back to town. I had galavanted off for a year to a new town, completely alone. It was supposed to be a time of “finding myself,” but instead I ended up sharing my 23rd birthday with strangers from the restaurant I had worked at for a couple of months and a feeling of lost time. Not that it had been completely worthless. I did discover just how much I despised the state of Missouri...

It felt good to come home. My small-ish Texas town was like a blanket. The sky was open and clear enough to see stars, even with the city lights. The light guitar pluckings of John Meyer or Jason Mraz or somebody of that sort was just loud enough for us to hear and not disturb our neighbors. It was home.

Desi leaned her head back against the railing of the balcony and said, “you know, those things are gonna kill you one day.”

I shrugged, but nodded, tapping the end of my cancer stick out in the ashtray. “Yeah. I’ve done it for almost 10 years now, though. I had to impress those high school boys, Desi! Mama didn’t raise no quitter.” She rolled her eyes at my response. “I know. I know. I always tell people, ‘if you don’t smoke, don’t start!’ and I’ve been helping one of my other friends quit. They’re just kind of, a part of me I guess. I’m sure I’ll stop one day.”

Desi picked up my pack and said, “what if I hid them from you?”

I laughed. “That would stop me until I found time to run to the convenient store. But how about this? It’s July, right? I’ll make it my goal to quit by the end of the year.”

She tossed my cigarettes back to me and raised an eyebrow as if to say, “uh huh. Sure.” Instead, she actually asked, “what’s your plan for tomorrow?”

Taking another sip of wine from the bottle, I said, “well, there’s a concert a few hours from here. Presley said she wanted to go check it out. I think we may head down and grab a bite and watch a few bands play. She said she knows one of the opening acts. Might be fun. Wanna tag along?”

Desi nodded back toward the living room. “It’s our anniversary. We’re gonna go to dinner and visit or first date spot.” She swooned a bit and I smiled. I loved their love.

“Ah yes. The day true love was invented. I forgot that’s tomorrow.” She laughed and told me to go to bed if I was going to be driving. I raised my hands in surrender and compiled. I did my best to not wake Collin up as I tip-toed through the living room to get to my room. I shut the door behind me, but not before my huge tabby I had rescued, snuck through.

“Come on, Stormy. Let’s go to sleep.”

The daylight spread across my face way sooner than I had been ready for. There was a knock on my front door and I groaned when I saw it was already noon.

I shuffled through the living room and saw Desi peek her head out of her bedroom on the opposite side of the apartment. She only had one eye squinted opened and I waved her back to bed. No objections came from her as the door clicked shut again.

Presley was standing there, arms crossed. Her bright, naturally red hair was down over her shoulders, exposed by a cute tank top over distressed jeans. Her freckles scrunched together as she said, “is that how you’re wearing your hair?”

I rolled my eyes. “Good morning to you too, sweetheart. Come in.” She was already halfway through my door before I had even finished the phrase.

“I figured you’d still be asleep.” she said. “I come bearing gifts of hangover relief and ‘let's get moving sleepy head.’” I was suddenly aware of the plastic grocery bag in her hand and I reached for it, but she pulled it back.

“Clothes and hair first! I’ll drive so you can do your make up in the car!”

I groaned but complied. After digging through some drawers, I settled on a pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt I knotted up. Half of a bottle of dry shampoo later, I grabbed my make up bag off of the counter and returned to the living room. Presley, ever the prepared friend, had already filled up two to-go coffee thermoses of coffee and handed me one. Closing my eyes, I sipped the warming elixir and sighed.

“Okay. Now I’m ready.” It was time to wake up.

The four hour drive wasn’t to bad. I did my make up as best as I could for being in a moving vehicle. Presley and I screamed steering wheel karaoke-worthy songs at the tops of our lungs, and talked about broken hearts and dreams and ambitions. We had gotten into town super early, and discovered that this show was at a super shady venue.

“You did not just drive me four hours away to get murdered, did you?” I stared at the venue cautiously.

“Don’t be dramatic.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve actually been here a few times. It’s not that bad once you’re inside.”

“Well, it’s a bit too early to go inside. They’re not even open yet.” I rolled my neck and stared at her. “Why did you come pick me up and make me lose precious sleep.”

“The doors open to the public in a couple hours. I brought us here early because…” she pointed across the street from the venue. “That place has the best god damn pizza of anywhere I have ever been in my life. We’re gonna go feast before we rock out.”

She wasn’t wrong. The pizza slices were as long as my face and neck combined. It was greasy and cheesy greatness. I almost overate to the point of being willing to miss the show, but, Presley wasn’t going to let that happen. After we let our food settle for a bit, she dragged me out of the booth and we walked across the street again. A line was starting to form at the door and, once we paid our cover, we went inside.

The bands were… good? A couple of soloists opened up first, and they were alright. One of the openers was a heavy metal band trying to jam way too hard for a 5:15 pm slot, and I was way too sober for this.

As if she could read my mind, Presley showed up next to me and handed me a beer. As next band was preparing for their set, she leaned over and said, “so, this is my ex’s band.” I nearly choked on my beer.

“Wait. What?! We drove all this way to see that ex?!” How had I not put two and two together that her “knowing someone in one of the bands” translated to, “the guy we regularly refer to as the spawn of Satan.”

She nodded at the lead singer who was tuning a bass guitar. “Don’t be mad! He said he was gonna be close by and he wants to talk after the show and I knew you would be up for a road trip!” I sighed and took another drink of my beer.

Yup. Definitely too sober for this.

They began to tune, and I caught glimpse of the guitarist out of the corner of my eye, which then led to him having my full attention. He had a curly fringe that hung over his eyes in an “intentionally messy” fashion. His sleeves were rolled up and I could see a couple of tattoos decorating his arms. He kept glancing at The Ex and flashing this amazing smile when he laughed as they joked on stage.

Once the lights dimmed, there were several loud fan-girl cheers and then a beat of silence before a guitar strum brought the lights back up. The band immediately jumped into a pop-punk sounding jam that I found thoroughly enjoyable. People around me started dancing and singing, and I wished that I knew the music to join along. Instead, I just threw my head around and bounced along with Presley as they rocked out. They introduced themselves on stage after the song, and I caught guitarist's name; Chanyeol. He flashed another charming smile at the crowd, and, for a moment, I thought I got an extra few seconds of eye contact. It didn’t last long before he was back to jamming out.

After their set, Presley and I made our way back to the bar. She said that they would be coming out to “meet with fans” and that The Ex, (still didn’t bother to learn his real name,) had texted her that he wanted to talk. I rolled my eyes and she shoved me. I made my way to the bar and ordered another beer. Eventually, I saw Presley and her ex sitting at a tall table across the way. The conversation seemed light and easy, so I wasn’t too worried, but I made sure to keep her in my line of sight in case she needed an out.

I must have been staring hard, because I jumped when a voice behind me said, “ah. I kind of hoped you were a ‘guitarist’ kind of fan, not a lead singer girl.” I spun around to see Chanyeol there leaning against the bar. He nodded toward my beer and said, “can I buy you another one in hopes of changing your mind.”

I laughed and replied with, “oh. Yeah. Nope. ‘Children of the ruler of the underworld’ don’t fall under my ‘types’ so I’m definitely not interested in him.” His eyebrows furrowed together and I clarified, “that’s my friend. He’s her ex.”

Once realization hit he said, “ah! You’re Presley’s friend!” He reached out to shake my hand. When I offered mine, he shook it and said, “we were all on her side of the break up, just so you know.”

He ended up buying me another beer. Conversation flowed easy between us. Occasionally, we were interrupted by someone asking for pictures with him, but he always jumped right back in to focus on me. We discussed music and books, (turns out he was a huge “Lord of the Rings” fan) and movies. I noticed that he had changed out of his button up and was in a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off of it. I saw a few more tattoos along his arms, accompanying the one on his wrist. He caught me trying to make out one on the top of his arm, and he finally aimed it toward me to show me a monkey. He explained that it was his Chinese Zodiac.

“You have any?” he asked. I told him that I had a few, but not anywhere that could be visible. “I work a desk job. You know, gotta maintain the ‘professional’ appearance. No fun hair colors. No visible tattoos. No crazy piercings. I get to appear completely boring.”

“You appear the furthest thing from boring.” I made eye contact again with him to see if he was teasing, but his expression was serious. The corner of his lip pulled into a tiny smile and I was thankful for dim bar lighting to hide my blushing.

“So- where’s your next stop?” I asked, changing the subject.

“We’re headed to Austin tonight. You should come.” His response caught me off guard.

“Uh… what?”

“I said you should come with us. Tomorrow is Sunday. You’ll have time to…”

“To drive back in the middle of Sunday night to make it to work exhausted on Monday?! You’re crazy! Plus, I have Presley with me. She’s gotta get back too.” I was trying to not lead on how desperately I actually wanted to go watch him perform again. I didn’t want to seem crazy. Was that crazy?

“I bet she would be willing to go too.” He pointed to the corner and I turned to see Presley making out with The Ex.

“Crap. I was supposed to not let that happen.” I pretended to look guilty and Chanyeol laughed. He put his hand on my knee and said, “don’t go back yet. I need to get to know you more.” I hadn’t realized how close he had moved toward me. Our knees were touching and his face was only inches from mine. He was mesmerizing. I took in his features. His eyes were sharp. His lips were full.

I agreed to go.

[vintagemiserie]

hehe this one is long my boyz. jazz au ofc cuz its been my muse 4 the past couple months lmao. ill prob edit this and put it on ao3 tmw or in two days idk

Patrick's hand found a grasp on Joe's sleeve, and he used that grasp to pull him all the way inside, reaching for Joe's collar and pressing their lips together once the door shut. Sure, it was Pete's house, but they were all hanging out there that day, and so they could be a little more intimate. Besides, the short walk from the driveway to the front door was dotted with thrown snowballs and giggling, so if only felt natural to kiss. “Hey, boys, how about saying hi before making out?” Pete said, stepping over from the kitchen in a t-shirt and shorts just as they separated. Patrick found himself unsure as to how exactly he should respond, but Joe laughed it off, so Patrick clung to him and followed suit, a bad feeling building in his chest.

“Well, hey, Pete,” Joe said, pulling Patrick into a sweet little kiss. “Is Ash around? Or is she in LA?”

“New York, actually. She's always busy this time of the year. Is Andy coming over, too?”

“I dunno, I didn't—”

“He's in Milwaukee working with that rock band he's in,” Patrick said, his mouth going dry when he realized that he really didn't need to elaborate at all past any kind of “no, he's not coming over.” He went through what was said to him in therapy: deep breaths and considering that others won't notice the flaws Patrick found in himself.

Pete certainly didn't seem to notice. “Aw, that sucks,” He said, and Patrick allowed himself to exhale. “Okay, so, there's a band in town that I think both of you would enjoy for entirely different reasons—I was thinking dinner, then their show?”

“Sounds good,” Joe said. He put an arm around Patrick's shoulders as Pete excused himself to get properly dressed. He seemed to hesitate speaking for a moment, and so did Patrick, unsure of why he was feeling so anxious. “Are you doing alright?” Joe asked, his voice toned down with an energy different from Joe's usual laid-back attitude.

“I'm doing fine.”

“Your tone betrays your words, baby. Sorry. What's bringing you down, though, seriously? You sound terrible.”

“I 'unno, I just… something made me nervous and I guess I clung onto that—I’m fine, though, really. Most days I end up panicking over even less than this, multiple times a day, and I end up fine, so I can handle this on my own.”

“I just wanted to make sure. I know you like not talking, but make sure you keep me informed if it gets worse, okay?”

Patrick nodded, shuffling closer so he could set his head against Joe's shoulder; Joe wrapped his as around Patrick and kissed him.

“I hope you know how much I love you. I can't imagine how awful you feel, and I can barely talk to my roommate most days without half an hour of psyching myself out.”

Patrick realized at that moment that he had never considered Joe to be someone who would panic of things as inconsequential as talking to a friend, but his thoughts were processed into a murmured, “I love you too,” hoping he said it with enough conviction that Joe would hear past the barrier Patrick had between thinking and saying his thoughts.

Pete returned. “Swear, I can't leave you guys alone without you guys attaching to each other,” He said, nearly laughing. He pushed passed them and opened the door. “Okay, let's go!”

Joe seemed insistent on holding Patrick's hand as they walked to Pete's car, and Patrick tried his best to convince himself that it wasn't because Joe was worried about Patrick's anxieties, but because Joe didn't want him to scoop up a snowball and throw it at him. The attempt didn't work, and Patrick just felt bad for dragging down Joe's mood.

Dinner was pizza, and it was fine. They didn't discuss much, just talked about the music they were working on. Someone recognized them as they left, but didn't ask for much else but an autograph from Patrick. Joe packed a snowball in his hands and Patrick pretended he didn't notice, though he practically forgot about it by the time Joe threw it at him. He at least remembered to laugh instead of get upset, but a bad headache stopped him from thinking too intensely over anything.

In fact, time seemed to rush past him, and suddenly he was handed a ticket stub and Joe squeezed his hand to ask him if he was feeling okay. Patrick said his headache was getting a little better, and Joe seemed to accept that, though it didn't stop him from getting Patrick water. He asked Pete what the time was and learned that the ride to the venue, getting tickets, and entering the concert hall took all of twenty minutes; Pete pat his back and told him he'd be fine, they had a whole opener to sit through, it'd be fine.

Joe came back, giving him the water bottle with a big smile. “Some chick told me to tell you hi, and that she wished you weren't queer because she thought you were hot,” He said, and Patrick tried his best not to freak out over that. Joe bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything, probably not wanting to bother Patrick further, and Patrick didn't mind.

“What—ah, I still don't know who we're seeing,” He said, looking around. The audience seemed to be a mix of hippies and rockers, and it made Patrick feel almost out of place.

“Rolling Stones,” was Joe's answer.

“Oh, they did that thing with Lennon and Yoko two years ago. Are they—this seems like a small venue for a band like them, hm?”

“I guess. I think they sold out Wrigley too, though, so they must've just wanted to do a small show.”

Patrick nodded and drank more of his water.

“They're all totally your type, too,” Joe added.

Patrick laughed, and Joe's expression brightened considerably, perhaps relieved he was at least acting better. He figured Joe's panicked feelings were dissipating, which would have been good if Patrick hadn't reminded himself he only found out about those feelings a few hours prior.

The lights dimmed and the opener played their set and Patrick figured it was alright, but far too reliant on drums and guitar in lieu of good lyrics. His headache went away, at least, but he wasn't impressed. Both Pete and Joe glanced his direction every few seconds, checking to see if he was doing alright, and it was nearly tiring to deal with. People trickled in until the standing room was too tight for Patrick to really handle, a problem made worse when Joe left to get Patrick another water. Pete settled a hand on Patrick's back, probably as much a way to keep Patrick grounded as it was to keep them from separating in the crowd.

The Rolling Stones came on stage before Joe returned, and Patrick could only hope he'd get back somehow. He was right, though, the dark, shaggy hair and lanky-yet-strong builds were exactly what Patrick found himself attracted to. The music was interesting, but nothing he specifically enjoyed, so he let himself lose his focus on the music. Joe somehow found his way back, giving him the water and putting an arm around him.

“Eyecandy, right?” Joe said into his ear, still struggling to be heard over the music and the crowd. Patrick laughed and nodded. “Pete decided on going 'cause we thought you'd give it more of a chance.”

“You know, I do like some rock!” Patrick replied, struggling to yell but still keep their conversation private, since Joe stopped leaning over to whisper to him.

Joe laughed and settled his head against Patrick's, singing along to the lyrics of whatever song was being played. Patrick decided maybe he would try to focus a little, drinking more of his water and ogling at the band.

[sunsetinmyvein]

It Will Always Just Be Me - Brendon Urie

A/N - Here's a thing, because Pray for the Wicked and all. 

She walked quickly through the maze of people, wondering why it was so difficult to find a toilet at this concert. Fall Out Boy were getting big now, but they couldn’t afford more than one block of toilets at the venue? She huffed in annoyance before finally finding what she had been looking for, and unintentionally bumping into someone else in the process.

“Ah shit, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed as she moved back. The boy chuckled slightly before brushing himself off. He stood a bit taller than her, with messy dark hair and deep brown eyes.

“No stress.” He smiled down at her as someone stepped out of one of the cubicles. His eyes darted between the cubicle and her. “Uh, you can go first.” He said as he scratched the back of his neck. “You seemed in a hurry.” He added.

“You sure?” She asked, getting a nod in response. Not waiting to ask again she ducked into the toilet, only to come out to find he wasn’t there anymore to say thanks to. She shrugged it off, walking in the direction of the bar.

“HEY, WAIT UP!” She spun around to see him running after her out of an open cubicle. She let out a laugh before he caught up and gave a breathless smile.

“Thanks for letting me cut in front by the way.”

“Ah don’t worry about it. Ladies first, right?” He grinned as he finally caught his breath. “So, you like Fall Out Boy?” He asked as they began walking again. She couldn’t help but feel like he was anxious about something; his eyes darted around the venue like he was worried. Maybe he’d jumped the fence to get in?

“Well, we are at one of their concerts.” She pointed out.

“I’m just trying to make conversation!” He laughed as he threw his hands up in surrender. “You could’ve been dragged here by a friend.”

“I do like them. They’re one of my favourite bands.” She confirmed with a nod.

“Awesome!” He beamed as he skipped around so that he was now in front of her walking backwards.

“You sure are full of energy.” She noted with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m easily excitable, what can I say? What’s your favourite song?” He asked.

“Probably a little less sixteen candles.”

“Oooo, good choice. Mine would probably be sugar we’re goin’ down, for the moment anyway.” He replied with a firm nod, before belting out a few lines of the chorus. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him in surprise; he had a hell of a voice. She was met by his curious eyes, wondering why they’d stopped walking. “What?”

“Are you Patrick’s younger brother or something like that?” She asked as she looked him up and down, confirming that he looked nothing like Patrick. He gave a short laugh before shaking his head.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“You’ve got a pretty good set of pipes there.” She started walking again, watching him run a hand through his hair before they finally reached the bar.

“So I’ve been told.” He sighed.

“Surely you’d rock at karaoke? The crowd must go wild for you.”

“Well… I might be finding out how they’ll react tonight.” He said with a nervous look. A bartender walked over to take their order and she bought herself a drink before looking at him.

“Do you want something? I feel like I owe you after letting me cut and the little show there.” She smiled at him.

“Yeah, I could really use a drink actually. Just a beer.” He answered to the bartender. They both grabbed their drinks before looking at the stage.

“So, who are you here with?” She asked as she looked over at him.

“Just a few friends. They’re probably probably wondering where I am actually… I should get back. Thanks for the drink!” He called as he jogged off back in the direction of the toilets. She watched as he ran away, noting how cute he was and then kicking herself for not actually asking for his name.

The show started soon after she finished her drink and she pushed her way to the front of the crowd, securing her spot against the barrier. As much as she knew being so close was going to leave a bruise on her ribs from being shoved against the fence, she loved being so close to the band. Nothing beat the feeling of having the bass coursing through your veins, the way the lyrics were loud enough that the good ones that struck an emotional chord would make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The people around her huddled in anticipation as someone walked out onto the stage to announce the warm up act. She saw a sign drop down from the back of the stage reading “Panic! At the Disco” and four men sauntered out onto the stage looking like they had gotten lost on their way to the circus. The lead singer stood up at the microphone with a top hat tilted down hiding his face, but when he began to sing she instantly recognised the voice and her jaw dropped. No wonder he was so good, he was in a band! And a good one at that. She tried her best to absorb as much of the music as she could, making a mental note to remember their name. After a few songs he spotted her in the crowd and a grin spread across his face before he flashed her a wink. She laughed loudly at the absurdity of the situation, but felt her cheeks heat up at the attention from the man who looked even more attractive in that suit. How nervous he had seemed earlier was totally washed away when he was on stage, and his stage presence brought something entirely different to the songs. Their set ended and they thanked the crowd before welcoming Fall Out Boy. She wanted to try and find him, but she knew there would be no way she’d be able to get backstage and she wasn’t even sure if he would want to find her. She resigned herself to defeat and for this to be a day to tell her friends about later.

 * * *

 A few years later she heard that Panic were coming back to town, and she couldn’t help herself, she had to buy a ticket. She wasn’t sure if she’d see him again, or if he’d even remember her, but at the very least she knew they were a good band to see live. When the day came for the concert she found herself queuing up early, vying to get a good spot at the front. She told herself it was to see the show better. The hours paid off, and she again found herself being pressed up against the barriers by the fans behind her. This time however she had another band to wait through before they would be performing. When their time came the feeling was entirely different from what it had been last time. The stage props that had previously had quite a cabaret feel were now replaced with things that seemed to have quite a hippy vibe. The mics were covered in flowers and vines, the stage had a very wooden feel, and when the band came out even their clothes reflected the mood with all of them wearing vests and looking like they’d just stepped out of the 60s. Their new songs were very different; they were a lot calmer but they were still good. About halfway through the set the lead singer was addressing the audience, asking how their night was going, before his eyes finally met hers and instantly lit up.

“Hey!” He shouted into the mic as a grin spread across his face. Her stomach did flips realising that he had indeed remembered her and she grinned back at him. He shot her a wink before darting across to the side stage, whispering something in one of the security guards’ ears as the next song started. After a few moments the very same security guard was standing in front of her in the space between the barrier and the stage. He leaned forward to her as he slipped something into her hand.

“Brendon wanted me to tell you to come find him after the show.” Brendon. She thought to herself. She looked down at what he had given her to see an all access pass. The show went on and their set was great, she recognised a few songs from last time and every now and again Brendon flashed her a smile. It was odd hearing them close the show on the song they had opened with previously, but it made a much better closer. As the crowd moved out of the venue she held her place at the barrier and once it was mostly empty she showed a passing guard her pass before jumping the fence. She followed where he was walking to the back corridors behind the stage, slowly coming up to a small crowd of people standing around.

“I think in the next set we should put northern downpour back in.” A voice said.

“It’s too slow though,” She heard a familiar voice say. “The crowd doesn’t want to hear that.”

“I have to agree. They respond better to the more upbeat songs.” Another chimed in. She cleared her throat at the edge of the group before someone noticed her standing behind them. “Bren, you’ve got company.” A bearded man smirked with a nod in her direction. He spun around and a grin spread across his face. He had changed a bit since the last time they had met, his jawline was more defined and he had a bit of stubble decorating his chin. But he still had that messy mop of hair, which was dripping with sweat, and those amazing eyes. She felt a blush spread across her cheeks as she suddenly felt too nervous to move. Thankfully he took the initiative himself.

“I’m so glad you came!” He shouted as he ran over and scooped her up in a hug. He held her so tightly when he picked her up and spun her around that she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “I was really worried you wouldn’t come to the show, or that I wouldn’t see you in the crowd, or that… that you uh, wouldn’t want to see me.” He admitted with an anxious laugh. “Anyway, um, this is the band!” He said trying to change the topic as he turned her around to face the other three guys he was talking with. “We have here: Ryan on guitar, Spencer on the drums and Jon on bass.” They all gave a small wave as their names were said. “It probably would’ve been Brent on bass when you saw us last though, he’s the one who got me into the band! But he wasn’t much help with anything else.”

“He had to go.” Spencer nodded solemnly. The air hung between the group before she spoke up to try and help the situation.

“I like the new getup you guys have going on.” She remarked as she poked at Brendon’s vest. “You really have a thing for suits, hey?” She laughed.

“Suits are a lot most distinguished.” He answered with a smug look as he tugged on his lapels.

“Suits are hot.” She remarked under her breath as she eyed over his getup, earning a loud laugh from him. “You weren’t meant to hear that.” She chuckled in embarrassment.

“You should’ve seen us at the end of the last tour!” Jon said, clearly not hearing the exchange between the two of them. “We were practically a circus. We had acrobats and skits and musical numbers.”

“Well, we are a band Jon, we’re supposed to have musical numbers.” Ryan laughed.

“Shut up.” He frowned as he shoved Ryan’s shoulder.

“Half an hour until the bus leaves.” A voice shouted down the hall.

“Ah, fuck…” Brendon sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Did you want to get a quick drink? I’m pretty sure I owe you one.” He asked as he turned to face her.

“Yeah, sure.” She smiled up at him.

“I’ll see you guys on the bus.” He shouted as he ushered her away from the group. “Beer?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Uh, sure.” She said as she felt instantly warm from the proximity of his body. She tried not to let her voice betray her, but the rapid beating of her heart was making it hard for her to keep her breathing steady. He led her through the weaving corridors until they reached the room with ‘Brendon Urie’ plastered on the door. “Urie, huh?” She questioned as he held the door open for her.

“The one and only!” He sung out as he spun around in the room, holding his arms out to show it off. He had a small couch with a TV and a gaming console built into it, as well as a table of snacks and a fridge of beverages. He walked over to the fridge and grabbed two beers, handing her one before sitting down on the couch. They clinked their bottles together before settling into comfortable conversation. They tried to find out as much about each other as they could in the short time frame, but it turned out half an hour wasn’t much time at all when you’re having fun. Before they knew it, someone was knocking on the door, telling him that he had to go. He glanced from the door to her before shooting her an apologetic look. “Hey, here’s my number.” He said scrawling something onto the all access pass that she had been fiddling with and handing it back to her. “We should keep in touch.” He smiled as they stood up.

“I’d like that.” She nodded. He pulled her into a tight hug before leading her out of the room.

“BRENDON!” Someone shouted from the end of the hall.

“I gotta go,” He said as he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, leaving her stunned as he jogged down the hallway. “Call me!” He yelled as he winked back at her. She stood there for a moment, just letting the whole day soak in. She hadn’t even been sure that she’d see him again, let alone that he’d want to stay in touch. And had he kissed her?? She absentmindedly touched her cheek, feeling how hot it had become due to her blushing. Shaking her head, she exited the venue to final head home.

 * * *

 They kept true to their agreement to keep in touch, and ended up talking every day. More often than not due to the time differences of touring they ended up texting rather than calling, but every now and again the stars aligned and they were actually able to speak for a while. They became close quickly with the regular communication, and found themselves as each other’s confidant and best friend. Nothing was a secret between the two of them; he was there for her when she lost her job, she was there for him when the band split up. But as much as nothing was secret per se, their love lives were never discussed. Any dates that were had were never mentioned, they never discussed who they were interested in, none of it was ever brought up. At the start they both put it down to that it would be weird to talk about, but after failed dates and relationships ending abruptly when they didn’t feel right it became a situation of not wanting to bring it up because they knew it would only end soon. At least that’s what they told themselves.

The time passed quickly and soon enough Brendon found himself back in town touring with his new album. Before the show was even on sale she had found an envelope in her mailbox with a ticket enclosed, as well as another all access pass with scribbles already on it; Meet me after the show. It was only a few weeks until she found herself back against that all too familiar barrier forming those same bruises on her ribs. It used to just be an unfortunate part of going to a concert, but now it was part of the excitement. When the lights dimmed her heart raced. She hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, as much as they exchanged the odd photo she couldn’t help but wonder how different he looked now and how much he had changed his mannerisms. But when she saw that familiar figure saunter on to the stage oozing confidence she figured he must still be the same old Brendon. He smoothed down his suit as he walked across to the mic, eyes scanning the crowd until he met hers and grinned. In the time they’d had apart his facial features had become even more defined and his hair was a lot neater than it had been, but his eyes still lit up like he’d just been shown the secrets of the universe whenever he was on stage.

The show had even more grandeur to it than the last times she had seen him, even despite that he had lost the themed elements and focused instead on the music. The breakup of the band had clearly hit him a little hard, because he seemed to skip over as many songs from his first two albums that he could, only sticking to the crowd favourites. His look had stuck with the suits, but had a bit more of an 1800s feel than the hippy vibe he had been giving off in the last album. Except for when he came out for the finale donned in his usual top hat and red coat, and played that signature song he opened with so many years ago. The show ended with explosions of confetti and fireworks, he obviously had a lot higher budget than what he used to, and people slowly filed out of the arena. When most of the crowd had left she hopped the fence, flashing her pass to anyone who gave her a questioning look. She rounded the corner and smacked straight into someone else, only to find it was the man himself.

“I can’t help but feel like we’ve done this before.” She laughed as he spun around to face her. He beamed as he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around. He put her back on the ground and moved his hands up to hold the sides of her face.

“Run away with me.” He smiled. She raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“You heard me. Run away with me.” He repeated with a suddenly serious tone.

“What, no ‘how are you’?” She laughed trying to hide how much her heart was racing.

“We talk every day, I know how you are, which is why I offered.” He pointed out as he rested his forehead against hers. She met his gaze and instantly felt her face heat up at the concern in his eyes.

“Why?” She asked as she let out a shuddery breath. He gave a shrug in response.

“I think you’d be happier.” She mulled it over briefly and weighed up her options, before giving a firm nod. “Really?” He grinned. She nodded again and he let out an excited noise before crashing his lips into hers. It felt like her heart stopped for a moment, though she hardly would’ve been able to tell because as quickly as it had begun, it ended. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-” She cut him off by pulling his face back to hers and kissing him back.

“Do you have any idea how many years I’ve wanted to do that for?” She chuckled.

“I think I might have a vague idea. C’mon, I’ll swing by your house so that you can grab some things. Are you ready to go?” He asked with a small smile as he held his hand out. A cheesy grin spread across her face.

“I think I’m ready to leave, I’m ready to live! I’m ready to go~” She sung out, mimicking his performance earlier. He rolled his eyes with a laugh.

“Come on you dweeb.” He said as he pulled her arm into his. She looked over his getup from the final number, he was still in his red circus outfit and had his top hat poised on his head.

“Hey… hey, Bren…” She said as she nudged him in the ribs. He hummed in response as he looked down at her. “Please leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman.” She laughed as she stole the hat and put it on her own head.

“Oh my god, why did I offer for you to come with me?” He huffed with a smile tugging at his lips.

“Would you say you’re… feeling out of place and underdressed?” She added, trying not to crack up.

“You’re wrecking this evening already.” He winked.

“And loving every minute of it.”

 * * *

  “BRENDON! What have you done to your hair?” She shouted in surprise as her hands flew to the freshly shaven sides of his head. He laughed loudly as he watched her panicked expression.

“I just tried to neaten up a bit for the first show of the new album.” He explained.

“Why would you do this? Your hair is great. Was great.” She pouted, continuing to hold his head. He smiled up at her and she finally let go.

“Was going for a new look. The new album is a bit more… suave.”

“You’re plenty suave…”

“You know you can’t bring it back, right? You can complain all you want.” He chuckled. A knock sounded out from his dressing room door.

“Five minutes.” A voice called from the other side. He straightened the tie of his black suit as he looked down at his disappointed girlfriend. She flopped down onto the couch, letting out a deep sigh as she fell back.

“I guesssss I can live with it.” She mumbled.

“You still gonna watch the show?”

“Of course. You’re not that ugly without the sides of your hair.”

“Hey!” He laughed as he offered out his hand to pull her back up. She took it and he swiftly hauled her up to be standing in front of him before hugging her tightly. “I love you, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. He met her gaze with an overly sad expression until she finally caved. “Yes, I love you too. Even with your half-shaved head.” She smiled as she kissed the tip of his nose. He grinned broadly before kissing her. The first show of this tour was a home town show for him, which gave him so much more energy than his usual shows.

“C’mon, show time!” He said excitedly as he took her hand and began walking towards the stage. The closer they got the louder the crowd became. It had been very odd being on this side of the show at first, seeing the set up and the stress that went into it all. But also, being able to see the aftermath of the adrenalin and the energy, the late nights spent hanging out after a show. Not to mention the endless bus and plane rides from venue to venue. The concerts were a different type of spectacle from what they had once been.

 The theme of the newest album wasn’t really any theme at all. Brendon still tried to carry his grandeur but the suits weren’t any particular style, there were no flowers on the mic, no circus acts. All his showmanship these days was carried in him. When they walked up to the stage Spencer was there waiting, Dallon and Kenny standing ahead of him to walk on first.

“Hey guys.” He grinned as they approached.

“You ready, Spence?” Brendon asked as he jumped up and down on the spot. He always had far too much energy before a show.

“Always.” He answered as he spun his sticks in between his fingers. There was a shout from one of the event coordinators, being their cue to head on. Kenny walked out first, with Dallon closely behind, both waving to the audience happily. Spencer rolled his shoulders briefly before walking out himself and taking his place behind his kit. Brendon turned to face her, his eyes already lit up with excitement from the show.

“Got any requests, darlin’?” He asked as he continued his jumping.

“Calm down?” She laughed as she put a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “I love all of your songs. And they’re always a million times better live.” She answered as she kissed him quickly. “Go. Entertain.” She smiled with a light shove. He beamed happily before running out to take his place at the mic, shouting greetings to the crowd. He wasted absolutely no time launching straight into the first song.

 Things were always different watching from the sidelines; no bruises, no fans screaming right next to you, less atmosphere in general. But whenever the show ended the atmosphere was better than being at a concert, because being there for the excitement that filled the room when the band walked off stage was irreplaceable. Brendon scooped her up as soon as he walked off stage, instantly throwing her over his shoulder.

“Do you mind?” She shouted as she slapped him in the back.

“No.” He answered simply as he continued walking. “I thought we could go back home, order enough pizza to make my credit card company worry, I can drink my favourite scotch that I have sitting on the kitchen bench and we can celebrate how amazing the first show of the album went.”

“That does sound like a good night, but, Bren?”

“Mm?”

“If you love me, you’ll let me go.” She said with a smirk. He let out a loud groan.

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Why do you write such quotable songs?” She retorted.

“You are the worst.” He shouted as he put her back on her feet. “You’re gonna wreck this evening too?” He asked, getting a loud laugh from her. He tried to keep up the annoyed attitude before cracking a smile himself. “Let’s get out of here.”

 * * *

 The tour passed quickly, and as the tour faded out it turned into recording new songs, which turned into a new album, which turned into another tour. It was like Brendon never stopped, but with how much energy he had she worried if he did he might explode. The concerts seemed to be getting longer and longer the more time she had known him. “You have too many hits.” She’d said to him one time while he was debating over the set list. The song he had opened with all those years ago was no longer the closer; he had finally decided to stop bowing to the pressure of the crowd and to put his current favourite as the final number instead. She had heard them all so many times though, and at this point heard him sing all the songs at times when it was just her listening to the soundchecks, that she didn’t mind. After the tour he had been called in by the label to go over some press things and sales targets, a cross country trip for him that was likely to take a few weeks. Because it was more of a working holiday rather than anything actually enjoyable, they had decided it was a good idea for her to head back to her home town for a few weeks to catch up with friends and family. Conveniently it also coincided with when Fall Out Boy were touring. She had agreed with a few friends to go to the show, lining up early for the show to get a good spot. Brendon had told her she didn’t have to line up for a good spot if she didn’t want, but he had been assured it was part of the fun of concerts.

 She sat in the queue with her two friends, feeling her phone buzzing in her pocket.

“Hello?” She answered as she tried to block out the noise of the people around her.

“Hey! How is queuing?” Brendon’s voice replied.

“Bren! It’s fine, we’re fairly close to the front of the line.” She laughed. “How was your meeting?”

“It was okay, but too many numbers. I’m gonna go back to the hotel and take a nap I think.” He said; she could picture him rubbing his eyes to try and help his headache.

“How long until you get home?”

“Still another two weeks I think.” He sighed. She groaned in response.

“That’s still so long. I haven’t seen you in forever.” She complained.

“You remember that one time we spent a few years apart before we even knew each other’s names?” He chuckled on the other end of the line.

“And I nearly died, Brendon.” She answered dramatically.

“Well, I’m sure you will survive this time. It’s not that long, I promise.” He reassured softly. She could hear other voices talking to him. “Sorry, I gotta go, but enjoy the show! I’ll talk to you soon.” He said as he hung up.

 The doors opened shortly after and they managed to weasel their way to the front. The feeling of being at the front of the pit had been sorely missed, as had the atmosphere of the crowd. The support act finished quickly and before long the band was out on the stage. It was kind of odd now knowing the members of the band; she had met Fall Out Boy a few times since she had run into Brendon, quite literally, at their show so many years ago. Things were slightly different when she knew the mannerisms the band showed as they performed, the looks they exchanged and the hidden jokes they shared. Their show was very different than it once was, as were they, but their props and the act as a whole was certainly something to behold. During one of their songs two giant llama suits came out and started romping around the stage. At one point they jumped down into the space between the barrier and stage and were running along high fiving the crowd, making them go nuts. However, when she held out her hand, the darker brown llama lightly whacked her on the head instead of high fiving her, before continuing along the line as if nothing happened. She rubbed her head in confusion, looking over to her friends to verify that had happened. In the end she put it down to that the band must be playing a joke on her, because when she looked up she met Patrick’s gaze and saw him chuckling. The song continued until eventually a sound cut over the mic, something that sounded like… heavy breathing? But it all became clear when the llama removed his mask, the song cutting out.

“Pete, I know you’re my manager and all but how long do I have to wear this thing?” Brendon asked as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Her jaw dropped as she saw him on the stage while the crowd went crazy. That BASTARD. His eyes scanned the crowd until they finally landed on hers, and he flashed her a wink.

“Do you know him?” Her friend shouted out over the crowd. She pretended to not hear them.

“I told you, you don’t get the contract renewal if you don’t wear it for the song.” Pete huffed into his mic. “But I guess I can let you have a break.” He added with fake reluctance.

“Only if you sing a song!” Someone shouted from the audience.

“A song?” Patrick asked as he turned to the crowd, slowly facing Brendon. “I suppose we can do that.” He smiled as they launched into a collaborative song between them.

 The show ended all too soon, Brendon staying on for a few songs before leaving the stage. He flashed her one last smile as he walked off, before making a hand signal of a phone. She fished her phone out of her pocket and saw a text from him telling her to meet him backstage after the show. Her friends tried to wait for her before they left, but in the end, she convinced them she would meet up with them later. Once she finally had the opportunity she weaved through the corridors backstage, following the sound of familiar voices echoing down the halls.

“Hey!” Andy shouted as he saw her approaching.

“Hey guys!” She replied as they turned to face her. A grin spread across Pete’s face.

“Sorry, he made us keep it a secret.” He chuckled as he pulled her into a greeting hug.

“Not your fault.” She shrugged as she heard footsteps approaching. She spun around to see the man himself approaching, still in the furry llama suit. “But it is yours, jerk.” She said angrily as she walked towards him.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me!” He laughed as he held his hands up in defence, closing the distance between them.

“Why’d you lie?” She asked as she punched him hard in the shoulder.

“Ow? I was trying to surprise you!” He pouted. She glared hard at him before giving up and hugging him tightly.

“You’re a dick.” She mumbled into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly as he kissed the top of her head. “I promise next time I want to be romantic and surprise you when I should be working, I won’t.” He said sarcastically.

“You guys, we’re going to get burgers. You coming?” Patrick shouted. She moved back from him and saw him smiling down at her.

“Burgers?” He offered.

“Sure, I’ve just gotta go to the toilet real quick though. We’ll meet you there!” She called after them.

“Me too, good thinkin’.”

 They worked their way through the maze of hallways until they finally found the only toilet in the backstage area. She stopped for a moment, about to tell him to go first before he beat her to it.

“You can go first. You seemed in a hurry.” He winked. The memories came flooding back as a laugh escaped her lips.

“You sure?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Definitely. The best decision I’ve ever made.”

[melodymgill49801]

RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

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RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

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RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

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RIP China Chalet, Manhattan's Greatest Queer Nightlife Utopia

When DJ and nightlife entrepreneur Ty Sunderland created his flagship gay party, he envisioned stripper poles—an homage to the music video for Britney Spears’ 2007 single “Gimme More.” “But no strip club was going to let a gay promoter come in on a Friday night in New York City,” Sunderland recalls. “I asked if I could install stripper poles on the dance floor at China Chalet, and they said, ‘Yeah, totally.’ That’s how Heaven on Earth started.” 

One of the most beloved queer events in New York City in recent years, Heaven on Earth would also rank among the last of the great parties thrown at China Chalet, which shuttered last  month in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Opened in 1975, the two-story Cantonese dim sum restaurant was the last of its kind in many ways. For one, it was one of the only remaining full-service, multi-room dim sum banquet halls in the Wall Street area, but most famously, it was one of only DIY party venues in Manhattan where New York City nightlife could be everything it’s been promised to be since Studio 54: liberating, inclusive, and spontaneous. 

It’s unclear when, exactly, China Chalet started moonlighting as a nightclub, even to those who worked there toward the end. (Following the venue’s closing, owner Keith Ng has declined to comment for press.) Alex Kellogg, the venue’s party booker at the time it closed, says he’d heard of parties rumored to have been thrown there by Madonna in the 80s, but that the venue’s most prolific era began in the late 2000s. In the last decade, the venue was visited by the likes of the Olsen twins, Timothée Chalamet, and Jay-Z—plus, pretty much any young person who went out in New York City.  

“Anyone could come, and you could do anything you wanted,” Kellogg recalls of his first impression of the space, at a party thrown by _Sex Magazine_’s Asher Penn in 2013. “There was no one specific ‘genre’ of people. It wasn’t like when you went to a Bushwick party and you didn’t look DIY techno, so they didn’t accept you. Skaters could show up in ripped jeans, and then Alexander Wang could walk in behind them. And they’d be on the same level. Or you’d see Chloe Sevigny there, dressed in a bucket T-shirt and jeans drinking whiskey at the bar.” 

Photo by Megan Walschlager

The end of the aughts was an inflection point for nightlife. As the moment of downtown stalwarts like Beatrice Inn and Bungalow 8 began to fade in 2009 amid the backdrop of the financial crisis, the city’s cool kids decamped to various new stomping grounds, from old-school holdovers like Indochine and Lucien to warehouses in far Brooklyn. In Manhattan, temporary pop-up arrangements helped party-throwers find loopholes around the city’s draconian nightlife laws.

By 2011, the New York Times waxed of China Chalet’s instantly recognizable “chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings” in a trend feature on fashion-and-art–scene pop-up clubs, which also included Madame Wong’s, an exclusive party once hosted in the Chinatown establishment Golden Unicorn. The same year, The Observer documented an indie film after-party at China Chalet with an attendance of “ex-pat jet setters, debauched hipsters, and local lowlifes.” And the fashion house Opening Ceremony collaborated with homegrown psych rock band Gang Gang Dance for an album release party at the restaurant. 

Curtis Everett Pawley, musician and co-founder of the party-label 38 NYC, recalls seeing China Chalet for the first time at that Opening Ceremony party, noting that in the mid 2010s, the venue evolved from a fashion insider hideaway to a mainstay for local electronic music fans. In 2014, Pawley met Kellogg at the China Chalet while the latter was hosting a New York City offshoot of London’s experimental JACK댄스 party featuring performers like Doss and Stadium. 

“I don’t know how to describe the scene at JACK댄스—it was just a lot of people from the internet,” Pawley says. “But it was distinctly different from a warehouse party and other electronic DJ-oriented underground stuff that happened in Brooklyn. There was a Manhattan contingency that didn’t really venture into Brooklyn or maybe weren’t even into electronic music. The crowd was more diverse.”

Part of this broad appeal had to do with the functional and physical layout of the space. For first-timers, China Chalet would reveal itself one part at a time, starting with a steep entry stairwell that led into a main dining room, for lounging and gossipping, and finally through a mirrored hallway onto a packed dance floor—which was notoriously known to shake under the weight of hundreds jumping in unison. Then, there was the venue's far-flung location, which only contributed to its off-the-grid allure. And of course, there was the marvelously relaxed policy on cigarettes and other typical club contraband. 

“There was an air of freedom that everyone just instantly knew,” Pawley explains. “If you had even been there once, you understood it. It was a weird oasis away from the typical nightlife setting. Our parties were all over the map—it wasn’t ever pure techno or house. We didn’t want to overly aestheticize them to curate any certain crowd.” 

Photo by Tom Keelan

In the late 2010s, such a blank canvas would attract an increasingly diverse cast of revelers, spurred on by a new guard of social media-powered creative voices in the city. Nightlife photographer Megan Walschlager recalls visiting China Chalet for the first time to attend Club Glam, the fashion it-kid affair launched in 2016 by the powerhouse collective of DJ-artist Dese Escobar and siblings, celebrity stylist Kyle Luu, and influencer Fiffany Luu. Escobar told the Times earlier this year that the trio wanted to create a party that was distinctly “post-identity, meaning that it’s not strictly queer or straight, young or old.” 

“Club Glam was iconic—I remember they threw a ‘granny ball’ and people over 30 got in free, which I always found wonderfully funny,” Walschlager says, adding that there was a built-in sense of community at Glam. “People felt more at home at China Chalet because the venue let party planners use the space as their canvas, so everyone felt very relaxed. Security was pretty chill, and it was easy to get a drink at the bar, so it felt more communal.” 

During its three-year reign, Club Glam was a pioneer in its own right, offering a fresh approach to nightlife that united identities and industries without conforming to their norms. Themed events were announced just a few days ahead of time, and lines frequently rounded the block. The party’s organic aggregation of interdisciplinary creatives often draws comparison to the long-gone clubs of New York City nightlife’s storied past. 

The venue’s reputation in the queer community was further mainstreamed by the 2017 launch of Ty Sunderland’s Heaven on Earth, which drew the likes of RuPaul’s Drag Race winner Aquaria, Balmain creative director Olivier Rousteing, and transgender pop icon Kim Petras. (As Sunderland retells it, the latter once famously grabbed the mic for an impromptu performance of her latest single.) The party would continue through 2020, with its last iteration taking place in February.

To this day, Sunderland credits the owner, Keith Ng, for his open-mindedness in allowing the party to thrive. “From 10 p.m. to midnight, we got to live our stripper-pole fantasies—no questions asked,” Sunderland says. “There were 400 gay men there on a weekend night. That’s hard to find in New York City in most places unless they’re LGBT establishments.” Kellogg, who first introduced Sunderand to Ng, adds of the China Chalet staff: “The coat-check girls would say, ‘Oh my god—there are so many pretty boys running around.’ They loved it.” 

Photo by Serichai Traipoom

For young queer people, including queer people of color, Sunderland’s party filled a much-needed void in gay nightlife far from the insularity of Hell’s Kitchen. Sunderland’s hosts were predominantly performers, artists, and partygoers of marginalized identities, explains drag queen Ruby Fox, who was known to captivate the dance floor at Heaven on Earth with an acrobatic routine between two stripper poles. 

“The artistry I push out into the world comes from the emotions I pull from people around me,” Fox says. “At China Chalet, in such close quarters, it was really exhilarating because I’m getting so much energy and so many positive vibes, whether that was spiritual or just a brain thing. But I would feel the wavelengths off of people to the point where I’d be like the Energizer bunny.” 

As COVID-19 brings an untimely end to tens of thousands of restaurants and bars across America, it’s hard not to feel as though a chapter of nightlife has closed. And while restaurants and other food purveyors are struggling to lobby for assistance, nightlife proprietors have even fewer options to obtain funding. That’s not to mention the thousands of freelancers and gig workers—performers, DJs, and party planners—who make their living by creating these spaces for community and expression. 

“It's funny—when quarantine hit, all of us who work in live music were all stressed about how our venues were going to stay open,” Pawley remembers. “I remember thinking, ‘At least we’ll always have China Chalet.’ That’s why its closing is such a hard blow. I really thought it would be the last thing standing.” 

But while China Chalet deserved a more fitting end—maybe one final party to commemorate its legacy—Pawley says what made it special is the creativity it fostered and the connections it created. “To this day, I met so many of my closest friends at China Chalet,” he says. “We’re all still friends. I really believe all the people in New York City are what made the parties great. I don’t think that energy will die.”

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