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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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The Chance to Burn: Dex

The vote for tonight’s microfiction was for Current!Dex, and… as per usual, my attempts to keep things short sort of fell apart, because Dex just does that to me.

Wright Farling (referenced) belongs to @spiffythespook

CW: References to stitches, torture, Dex’s weird poetic musings on migraines. Yes that gets its own warning. References to consensual spice and drugged food.

The migraines are back, now.

They blend in with the rest of the pain, anchoring the throbbing ache in his back and legs, arms and along his face. He can feel his face pulse with his heartbeat, the slight pull of his skin against Seb’s carefully sewn stitches, hidden under the bandage.

The migraine beats with his heart, too, and with the migraines come memories he doesn’t have. He can’t remember them when the migraines are gone - they slip up to the surface to slide back under.

Dex lies in the darkness thinking of a little girl’s face, of rosebushes and birds his mother would point at.

The pain brings with it the image of a man barely defined who once shoved him up against a wall when they were in chemistry class back in college who whispered I keep thinking that I like you before he pulled away and kept walking and Dex, who was someone else then, hurried to catch up and ask for his number.

His mind is a dark pool, and the memories are like fish that swim up where they are visible and distorted by the water and then slip back down and disappear again.

He used to have migraines all the time, when Karen first brought him home. He used to hurry to finish his daily tasks so he could spend whole days in his room with the curtains closed and the lights off, drifting in the dark pool and the pain.

He hasn’t had migraines since five years after he started seeing Wright - or started being sent to him, in any case. They stopped around the time he and Wright had been working on bringing more of him back out, and there must have been some threshold he’d crossed but he can’t remember what, or when.

Five years in was the first time Wright took him somewhere other than his house. Booked a B&B somewhere and they’d stayed the weekend pretending Dex was normal - collared only in bed, where he wanted to be - and Dex had been limping with a smile on his face when they got back in the car to leave.

Sometime around then, the migraines stopped.

They’re back now.

With them come the little fish of his life that swim to the surface to remind him of what has been lost.

Dex lays in bed when Karen will let him, and he is laying there now. His bed is just big enough for him, and Dex lays on the side with fewer bruises and lets himself swim in the pain, his broken hand dangling off the bed with the splints on his fingers. He shivers even with five blankets, and Seb can’t figure out why.

Dex knows why.

It’s the migraines, the memories, the cold water in his mind that freezes on his skin. He doesn’t tell Seb about the memories - the only one who knows the pain in his head comes with glimpses of a life he doesn’t remember having is Wright.

Dex keeps his eyes closed, holding off the hurt that comes with the name as long as he can. He lets his head - his mind, his feelings, what essence of him is left - slip under the surface.

Rosebushes, thorns to prick chubby little fingers. A woman’s face, elderly and full of wrinkles, twinkling eyes and white hair. A little girl, younger than him. Cats. Dogs. A barn, maybe.

A boy. A few boys, maybe, in and out of the pool, faces and names that are gone as soon as they rise. Todd. Trevor. Harrison. Levi. Victor. Lee.

Ben.

Chemistry class boy, the one who played bass guitar and tried to warn him that the self-help group he’d signed up for sounded kind of fishy. Ben had platinum blonde hair with blue tips and a lip ring on one side, his smile was wide and shining.

Gone now, with everything else. Just another fish that broke the surface when Dex looked too long at his own reflection.

Dex forgets as soon as the fish are gone, but as long as he drifts, he knows they are there, twining in and around the ferny leaves of the pain. There are other fish, too, darker with silvery-tinted fins that trail behind them like streamers in the water. The life he knows, the secrets he has kept for nearly two decades trapped behind his teeth, in his throat, on his body. The secrets Karen knows, and those she doesn’t know.

If he shifts, his head hurts worse, and he keeps thinking he has hit the absolute pinnacle of how much a single part of his body even can hurt, but as soon as he moves he learns that he was wrong - his head can always hurt worse.

He finds a way to stop moving.

Instead, he drifts.

He drowns.

Tell me why, Karen asks, when she comes to see him. Tell me what he told you to make you think he cared.

He is silent.

Tell me what he wanted. Dex, I need you to explain to me why you would turn on me when I’ve done so much for you. Fed you, clothed you, given you a beautiful home to live in and a job to do and everything you could ever have wanted-

Dex’s lip never curls, but the snarl is there, deep down inside of him, where all his anger lives while it’s too dangerous to show it.

Why do you think he cares? Did he tell you he cares? I can tell you do you’re keeping secrets, Dex. Tell me what you won’t say. Do you speak for him? Do you speak, Dex?

Do you speak for Wright Farling?

Do you tell him you love him?

No.

He could tell her that, and it would be true. He hasn’t - in nearly two decades he has never said those words, and neither has Wright. Dex wouldn’t dare speak them, would be too terrified to ask.

He could tell her some truths to hold back her rage, but those truths might be cracks in the dam that breaks apart the careful way he has worked so hard to keep this his own. He would rather die than lose the pieces of himself it has taken so long to hold.

He would rather be dead than break Wright’s trust.

The message had been a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, but in his dark room, with his head pounding pain he can barely breathe around - pain that presses against the insides of his skin until he feels too small to hold it within himself, until it feels like his head with crack open and the pain will spill out and the dark pool might truly be an ocean - with the screaming voiceless hurt behind his eyes, Dex wonders if the lifeline is real.

After all, people say comforting things to those who are too lost to save. They hold their hands as they bleed to death and say it’ll be okay, you’ll see, we’ll get out of this together and they know they won’t, and the dying person knows they won’t, but everyone pretends they will, for the sake of the comfort.

Is that all it was?

Comfort, for a man bleeding out on the floor.

Whispered words that everyone knows are false.

Promises Wright won’t keep.

Sweet words meant to soothe a man who is too broken and has too many pieces missing now to save. Empty words, and one day it will be a Tuesday and Dex will walk to the library, sit in the history section, and stare at Paradise Lost and he will do it knowing no one will come for him.

And in the end he will still be grateful that someone cared enough to say those meaningless things at all.

No. Dex closes his eyes even more tightly, feels them clench shut so hard his eyelashes brush against his cheeks, until the pain spreads out along the bruises on his face. He manages to catch the sob before it stretches his mouth and pulls at the stitched-up tear in his skin that has ruined the face that Wright has so many times called beautiful.

I have ruined you, Karen says in her flat cold voice when she brings him the nutrition shakes to drink. You were a body and a dick and a mouth and now you are nothing. Now drink.

He could swear each meal makes the migraines worse.

She’s lacing them, he’s certain of it, feeding him the pain drug in small amounts to make this worse than it has to be. Hurting him, because she knows there are cracks in the clay that she is not responsible for. There’s some kind of victory in that, petty and small and not enough to make up for the fact that he can barely breathe against the ache.

Paradise Lost, by the History section, on a Tuesday.

It is a thin rope bridge that Dex must build to keep himself from sinking into the darkness. It’s a tiny footpath in the woods with a monster on his heels. It is a thin prayer he mouths, again and again, with barely moving lips.

History section. Tuesday. Paradise Lost. Wright will come for me.

Words that could be lies, that could be nothing, that could mean nothing.

He hasn’t given up on us. He won’t give up on us, not for her, not now. Maybe he-

Maybe he really does-

He can’t even think it - it’s too dangerous to let himself even begin to pretend. The actions are there, the care and concern. The look in his eyes, when Dex wakes up and finds Wright watching him with that smile playing across is face. Fingers on his face, gently closing his eyes, a whisper against his ear that says you’re going to do exactly what I say and Dex shivers in whole new ways with every command.

He can’t think that he might be right - that he might be worth something to someone, in the end, and worth far more than Karen will ever be able to understand - but he needs to believe it, too. He needs the words.

Paradise Lost. Tuesday. History section. He will come.

He is living for the promise.

He is a dying man and Wright’s words are a drink of whiskey to ease his way to the end, because nothing can last forever, not even this.

Even if it’s meaningless - if Karen is right and she won’t stop talking and maybe, maybe she is, she always knew Wright so well… even if Wright isn’t coming and it was only meant to give him something to hold on for…

Even so, Dex can’t stop the tears that find their way out from his closed eyes. He can’t hold back the way his body shakes at the sobs he will not vocalize. Every movement shakes loose more sharp edges inside his mind, brings the fish back to the surface.

The snowman at the end of the lane, Wright’s expression of baffled surprise at Dex’s joy getting to build one. He was twenty-three or twenty-four that year, or maybe younger… he can’t remember. The panic attacks, and the way Wright held him through them. Each slow discovery made of each other, every memory Wright pulled from him with careful questions, the time spent stretched under Wright’s skilled, careful fingers. The way it felt to have Wright buried in him to the hilt, to feel complete with someone who knew his body in ways no one else did.

Dex dangles his hands in the pool, trying to hold these fish, but they swim away, too.

Paradise Lost. History Section. A Tuesday, when I can walk again.

He will come.

Even if the last twenty years meant less to Wright than they had meant to him… even if the fire he felt was all one-sided, and Dex is the only one still carrying the flame…

He’s so goddamn grateful that he was given the chance to burn.

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iamnotoriginalphil · 5 years

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Lessons in Love (Bucky x Reader) - Part 3

Synopsis: You figure out a way to never see Bucky again.

Words: 1564

Warnings: smut,

**GIF not mine**

Part 1

Part 2

You couldn’t catch your breath. Your chest was heaving, sweat beading on your skin. Your back arched off the bed, one of your nipples being twisted between thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt on fire.

You came with a cry, biting down on your pillow to stifle it. All you could see was the image of blue eyes staring up at you from between your thighs. You tried to calm your breathing as you came down from the waves of pleasure that had wracked your body.

You’d spent the last two weeks in a state of near constant sexual frustration. Listening to Professor Barnes, watching him at the front of the room, being ignored. Every moment you were in his presence you kept having flashbacks to his bedroom.

You’d had enough.

You couldn’t keep living like this. There was only so many times you could touch yourself to get through the class. You were sick and tired of feeling so unsatisfied all of the time. You needed out. You couldn’t do it anymore.

_______*******^*******_______

You went to the student office the first chance you got on Friday. It was in your lunch hour, the only spare time you had the entire day. You stalked in there, not willing to take no as an answer. You strode up to the desk and slammed your hand down on the counter.

“I need to switch out of my class,” you said.

The elderly lady looked up from the paper she was reading. She sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose. She stood and shuffled over to you.

“What is the reason?’ she asked.

“I can’t make the classes anymore,” you said, “I have another commitment.”

“Which class are you trying to switch out of?” she asked.

“Professor Barn’s freshman history of literature,” you replied.

“That is a requirement for all English degrees,” she said in that monotonous tone that was already grating on your nerves.

“I know, but I figured I could do it next year,” you said, “once I’m able to.”

“It is a requirement to do any sophomore classes,” she said.

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, “surely as long as I do it in the four years it’s fine.”

“That is not the policy,” she replied. She turned away from you.

“Come on, isn’t there something I could do,” you cried out, needing to get out of this class.

“I suggest you move your other commitment.”

You stood there, watching as she settled behind her desk once again and open the paper. You knew your mouth was hanging open and your arms were hanging uselessly by your side. This had been your one hope, the only silver lining you could see. To come so close, to let the hope build in you all day. This was worse than finding out Professor Barnes was Bucky.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you could do?” you asked, the desperation obvious in your voice.

“Nothing.”

You turned away from the counter, catching the flick of dark hair as the door behind you closed. You felt dread begin to grow in your stomach. You thought you might have recognised that hair.

You were not looking forward to class.

_______*******^*******_______

You were sitting low in your seat, waiting for the moment Bucky slammed through the door, effectively shutting everyone up. You’d considered missing this class, just ditching it, but you couldn’t afford to miss any content and you had no friends to snag notes off if you weren’t there.

You cringed as the door hit the wall and you sunk even further. If you got any further down you’d be sitting on the floor. You wanted to disappear. You looked up, catching the angry eye of the professor and you flushed bright red. This did not bode well.

You tried to focus on the class but every time you glanced up his eyes were trained on you. Your notes were a mess, half finished sentences and misspelt words all you had. It would have been more useful to miss it completely.

If only it were possible to slink out without drawing any attention to yourself.

The class seemed to drag on, each minute lasting about an hour. Your heart was thudding in your ears, almost drowning out his voice. Normally you’d say that was a boon but you knew this was indicative of worse things to come.

Eventually he dismissed the lot of you. He stood at the podium, seemingly going over his notes. You packed everything up, hoping to disappear from the hall in a pack with other girls. You hoped to hide amongst them to avoid his wrath.

“Not you.”

You looked up to find him pointing at you. He crooked his finger towards himself and you stopped, others around you stopped too, pausing to watch whatever beat down you were about to get.

“Keep moving,” he commanded the rest of them.

You waited for everyone else to stream out, the last few walking slowly. You took a step towards him as he shuffled his notes. He was not dragging his eyes away from you, glaring as you came towards him. You felt your anxiety curdling in your lower stomach, desperate to flee, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze.

“You no longer wish to take this class.”

It wasn’t a question. He had obviously heard you trying to get out of his class.

“As I’ve never interacted with you it can’t be me, so you must not like the class. What’s the problem?” Of course the only way he’d remember you was for a bad thing. He didn’t remember the mind blowing sex or trying to pick you up in a bar.

“I have work that I can’t get out of at this time,” you replied, “it’s nothing to do with the class.”

“Bullshit.”

You started at the word, an electric shot of heat pooling between your legs. His eyes darkened, stalking towards you. If your feet weren’t rooted to the spot you would have been backing away. His eyes flicked down to your lips and a hand came up, his thumb pulling your lower lip from between your teeth.

_______*******^*******_______

One of his hands was tangled in your hair, pushing your cheek against the hard wood of his desk, a pen digging into your skin. His other hand was settled on your hip, steadying himself as he thrust into you hard and fast.

You were whimpering, your hands clutching the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood. You couldn’t see him from where he held you bent over his desk. He tugged on your hair hard enough to draw tears of pain in your eyes. He was grunting, his other hand leaving bruises on the skin of your hip.

He slid his hand around, between your legs. He pressed his thumb against your clit and you cried out. His other hand untangled from your hair, pressing over your mouth. He circled his thumb over your clit, drawing a muffled high whine from you.

He was pumping into you deep and strong, hitting places within you you hadn’t realised existed. You were pressing your hips back, trying to meet him thrust for thrust but unable to do much. Beyond the two hands and his hardened length you couldn’t feel him at all. There was no breath on your skin, no sweat mingling with your own, no teeth leaving marks on your flesh.

You were gasping, trying to catch your breath. Your legs were trembling and he forced them further apart as he brutally pressed his thumb against your clit again. You bit down on his hand, trying to stifle the scream that was working its way out of your throat.

His thrusts had lost all rhythm, stuttering against yours. He was groaning, his movements erratic. You were moaning, your internal muscles beginning to clench around him. He growled, his hips slamming into yours.

You could taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue as you came, his hand rubbing circles over your clit, his length stretching you the point of almost painful. He gave a strangled curse as he came within you, his hips stuttering against you.

He let you go, stumbling back to fall into his chair. You slid down to the floor, trying to catch your breath. Your legs couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. You pressed your forehead to the cool surface of the drawers, your skin so flushed.

When you looked up Bucky was watching you from under hooded eyes. His hair was tangled around his face, some strands sticking to his temple. Your panties were in his hand. You stood on shaky legs, not wanting to stay under his scrutiny.

“No more talk of leaving my class.”

You pulled your skirt back down to cover yourself and held your hand out for your underwear. He tucked it into his pocket, zipping himself up again.

“Or what?” Without his hands on you it was easier to stand your ground.

He stood, crowding you against the desk again. He towered over you, the heat from his skin radiating towards you. You pressed back, trying to get away from him.

“Or I’ll punish you for disobeying my orders.”

He stepped back, leaving you breathless. You fled from his office, praying you’d never be back. You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself make the same mistake again.

Tags: @libellule2001 @sebs-daybreak

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lessons in love #professor bucky

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 years

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Just Like A Stark Part 3/8

Summary: Vic can’t sleep so they hit the gym at 3am. Bucky finds Vic with bloody knuckles and encourages them to vent.

TW/CW: Small mention of blood and a dark, angsty background story.

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,187

A/N: I am actually kind of proud of this part. I got inspiration from Nightmare by Halsey, which is a really good song, for Vic’s background story and kind of went off track but there’s some hints of the song here and there. Hope you enjoy! Send requests and talk to me in the comments!

[Always remeber you’re not alone. You have a story to tell and it WILL help someone one day. Keep pushing. You are loved. Here’s a smiley Seb to cheer you up.]

PART 2

Vic’s POV

Another sleepless night is underway. There still hasn’t been a lead on the Syndicate and it’s peaking my anxiety and paranoia. I have tossed and turned all night and finally decide to get out of bed. As I change out of my pajamas and into some workout clothes, I desperately hope that no one will be awake. I glance at the neon green numbers of the alarm clock beside my bed and they read 03:00. Surely this early in the morning no one will still be roaming around. I don’t want to dodge any more questions for now. The team has noticed that I haven’t been sleeping.

On my way out of my bedroom, I stop to look in the mirror. The bags under my eyes have gotten darker and darker. I turn away in disgust. I remember when every head turned as I walked in the room. I can’t bear to see that I’ve let myself go so much. I add this to the pile of demons clawing at my heart tonight and begin making my way to the gym.

When I step out of the elevator, I sigh in relief that no one is down here. I wrap my hands and take a position in front of the punching bag. I take a deep breath in as I pull my first target to the surface. With my eyes closed, I envision the punching bag as Cornelius Hale, the head of the Syndicate. I rain punches down on the bag of sand and slowly the image fades. Next, I choose the people who injected me with their prototype serum. I race through the sparse memories of The Requiter and punch at it with everything I have. Finally, I settle on the biggest enemy I have. I envision myself standing before me. Not the me that I am today. The me that I used to be. The weak, vulnerable, and scared Vic Stark who lived in the shadow of the rest of the Stark family. I drown the image in punches and promise myself that I won’t plummet to that low place again.

The air shifts and I am suddenly very aware that there is someone in the room with me. I turn around with my fists raised and ready to pummel whoever it is for spying on me. I am met with Bucky’s ocean blue eyes and sleepy face that quickly turns to concern. I follow his gaze and notice that my knuckles are bloody. He grabs some gauze and wrap from the cabinet and makes his way over to me. He reaches out to me, “May I?” I nod and let him bandage my hands.

I am careful to keep from making eye contact to avoid conversation but he speaks anyway, “You seem to use the punching bag to work out your stress and anxiety. Do you mind if I ask what’s bothering you?”

I toss the options back and forth in my mind. I could clam up and say it’s just from the change, or I could tell him the truth. I settle with the second option, “I’m anxious and paranoid because we don’t have a lead on the Syndicate. I’m getting memories back from when I was their weapon. And I’m pissed at myself for letting myself get so wrecked and exhausted.” He gently squeezes my arm in understanding and to encourage me to continue. “The memories have flooded back. They called me The Requiter. I was their weapon for annihilating all of their rivals and anyone who they thought wronged them. I killed so many people. So much innocent blood was shed by my own hands and I even began to like it along the way. I trusted so many people and they turned me into an animal. There’s been so many times in my life where I broke down and almost lost myself completely but I had no one to help and had to put myself back together on my own. My mom and dad died but even before that they never paid any attention to me. Dad was too busy with the company or busy teaching my brother how to run the company. Mom was too busy cooing over Tony and keeping him and Dad from arguing. Tony was there occasionally but never when I needed him most. He had too many expectations thrust upon him to be able to spare time for the twin everyone forgot about.”

I stopped to take a breath and caught the look of sympathy on Bucky’s face. He gently rubbed my back, “Go on,” he whispered, “Vent all you need. I’m right here.”

I smiled a thank you and continued, “I went into the military after Mom and Dad died. I figured it was the best way to get away from the spotlight of Stark Industries and make myself useful and maybe even do something Mom and Dad would’ve been proud of. I spent years over there after I got captured and when I finally got free of the brainwashing Syndicate, I stumbled onto an American military base completely on accident. If it weren’t for my dog tags and prints, they would’ve never believed that I was who I said I was. The Syndicate had wrecked my appearance. I had extra muscle than before of course but the rest wasn’t as good a change. They dyed my hair dark black and littered my body with these tattoos. They even pierced my brow and lip but I took them out a long time ago. I made it home and it was like a whole new world. By that time, Tony had handed the company over to Pepper and stopped producing weapons. He and Pepper let me stay with them for a while but I couldn’t stay in one place too long, after having moved around the Middle East so much and always being on the move. I left not too long after coming home and went to travel Europe. I only came home again this time because The Syndicate had caught up with me. Now, I guess they’re either too scared to go knocking on Iron Man’s front door or they are waiting me out.”

I finally stopped to breathe again. I hadn’t told anyone my life story like that. Bucky smiled reassuringly, “Tori, it sounds like you’ve had a long, rough life. And I know that sounds like I am stating the obvious but I mean it to show respect. You’ve gone through so much and made it through every last bit of it. I’m proud of you.” The tears broke through the dam. I dropped my head in my hands. No one had ever told me that. Not once in my miserable life have I ever heard the words “I’m proud of you,” be directed at me.

I look up at Bucky, “Thank you so much. You’ll never know how much that means to me.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as I continued to cry and held me until I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning in my bed.

PART 4 || Masterlist

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magistralucis · 5 years

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Ed Banger House Party @ Electric Brixton, 25 Jan 2019 [Review]

😍 Fucking fantastic you funky little Frenchmen... 😍

This was a very wild night. I can’t quite believe I survived it, even as I finish off writing thousands of words about it. It’s probably the most detailed review of a concert or show I have done to this date. I finally saw Sebastian in the flesh, was treated to over eight hours of sweet sweet music, and feel that I have begun my Ed Banger-related pursuits for this year in the perfect way.

And the loot. The sweet, sweet loot.

Read on for more. Mobile users, be warned this is a very long post.

The Journey

If you’ve read my other gig reviews you know the drill: I don’t live in London, have to commute there from wherever I’m living at the moment, London is difficult to navigate. But I had no trouble with my journeys this time, there were no Underground closures, and this venue was exactly the same one as the TBB show two years ago. Nothing to report there, only that I give props to our driver. There was an accident on the motorway, about 25 mins into a 2hr 20min journey. He took us on a thirty-mile detour to avoid the scene of the crash and still got us to London in time. If you’ve ever been on a National Express coach, you know what a big deal that is.

That wasn’t the only accident we stumbled upon in our journey, somewhere in Croydon (part of Outer London for non-UK readers) there was an altercation between two drivers and something like thirty police officers were present. It is rare to see that many police officers on scene for a single collision, so I wonder whether something more sinister was going on. All of them were wearing fluorescent vests and they reflected the light of the traffic most gloriously for a ten-meter stretch of the pavement. It was very attention-catching. I like to think they shared the same general sentiment of (o_o ) when they looked over and saw an entire busful of people goggling at them, but that’s neither here nor there. It was around 8:30PM when I got to London, and I spent some time lingering in the train station before making my way to Brixton.

I like queuing up early. I had no idea what I was going to find there.

9:20~PM: If you follow Thibaut on insta you might have seen this.

This instastory. It’s not obvious, but these three were far from the only ones in this picture. I know this because I FUCKING WALKED IN ON THIS PHOTOSHOOT. THESE THREE WERE NOT THE ONLY PEOPLE THERE. THIS WAS A VIP GROUP SHOT SESSION WITH 25+ PEOPLE OUTSIDE ELECTRIC BRIXTON AND I NEARLY BARGED IN AMONGST THEM LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! ;A ;

I’ve met my favourite bands spontaneously. Gone for signings. Received compliments from Rammstein. I’ve shaken hands with Xavier. But I’ve never just happened upon an entire group of my favourite people engaged in a situation not meant for ordinary fans. I was honestly more terrified than elated. I knew they were VIPs because they (all DJs included) had blue wristbands on which allowed continued re-entry into the club, instead of the usual red club stamp on the back of the hand. Later in the show I recognized two of those people as stage photographers. Pedro was closest to me, Irfane passed by (he had very vivid eyes, even under poor lighting), and around the right-hand side Thibaut was putting his arm around Sebastian. I may have seen Vladimir Cauchemar unmasked. Shit was surreal.

This could potentially have been a good place to greet Sebastian zdravo. Unfortunately there’s a time and place for such things, and a VIP photo session I wasn’t involved in was not one of them. (Electric Brixton isn’t known for facilitating after-show fan meets either, due to the club’s structure and how everyone has to be herded out at the end.) Even if it were just the Ed Banger folks milling around, I'm not sure if I’d have been able to approach them in this case. ‘Cause ultimately, I am just an Animal Experiencing Fear, and I was caught so off guard; I stepped back and pretended I had nothing to do with the area. At least that way I could gather my thoughts and continue to observe.

I can tell you this entire moment took five minutes from 9:23pm to 9:28pm, but only because I checked my phone later. I didn’t want to take it out in the moment because I got paranoid they’d think I was a creep. As the phones and cameras were put away and normal conversation resumed I looked up and saw Sebastian five steps in front of me.

You know that recent Seb + Vinco picture. Hang on I’ll find it. You know the look Seb has in that pic?

That. That is his actual gaze. That is what Seb actually looks like when he has nothing to pose for and nobody to speak to. Unless something mind-boggling was happening in the empty space several feet away from where I was standing, that’s his normal nothing-to-see-here expression. At one point we met eyes. I think he blinked like once. You can’t tell his eyes are blue even from a short distance. He looked down, exhaled vape smoke, and bit his lip. Then someone (Myd?) ushered him into the open doors. And that’s how I accidentally stumbled upon the Forbidden Ed Banger Content, and while I was excited at what I saw, I think I’d prefer a do-over in the future. When they’re not all engaged in other business, when I have a pen and an adequate surface, and when I am not a fool with poor timing.

Also Sebastian was not as tall as I thought he was, but also far from short; Irfane was taller than I thought, but visibly shorter than Thibaut; Thibaut was taller than I thought, but no match for Pedro, whose height continues to boggle my mind. I have seen all of those people before, save for Sebastian. Pedro I have seen multiple times, with multiple people, in multiple contexts. Yet I still have no grasp of how tall anybody is in this label.

I don’t know what that implies about my visualization skills. At this point, I’m too scared to find out.

9:33PM: I’m going with this timestamp because that’s when I noted down that security cleared out completely with the VIPs, closing the front doors behind them. A girl comes up near me and stares at the venue, the ‘Ed Banger Records’ written in lights, then at the queue barriers (not open) for some time before turning to me. There were maybe five people altogether waiting.

Girl: Excuse me, is this the queue for people with tickets?

Me: I don’t know. We might be queuing to find out where the queue is.

Girl: [To a freshly emerged security guard, holding a sandwich.] Excuse me, do you know if there’ll be tickets at the door?

Security guard: [Incomprehensible - he’s speaking at close distance and a bus is freshly pulling up behind me, so I can’t hear them. He goes inside and shuts the door as soon as he says his piece.]

Girl: He doesn’t know. What am I going to tell my friends.

Me: Oh my God did you not get tickets.

Girl: My friends did! I was meant to get in early and get the drinks and stuff oh my God I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE GOING TO BE SOLD OUT 😰

Me: DIDN’T THEY SAY THERE WOULD BE A LIMITED RELEASE THOUGH 😰

By this time we’re both mired in anxiety.txt and others were coming forwards with the same experience. A group of three girls who got there shortly after me were all waiting for door tickets, and a guy came along who had a ticket for himself but was trying to get his friend (Asian girl, very pretty) in. (I will see this friend repeatedly throughout the show, but not the dude.) Eventually we looked up what the Electric Brixton website had to say, and gathered that a very limited number of tickets were available and they were all here at the right time to purchase it. As far as I know, everyone there got in without trouble.

First release tickets were £15.00. Later I was told it was £25.00 at the door.

Yeesh.

9:50PM: They finally open up the queue barriers. I’m fourth. Several of us in the line take a poll on who we’re here to see:

Pedro: ///

Breakbot: //

Sebastian: ////

Riton: /

Vladimir:

Myd: /

‘Everyone’: //

‘I’m here because of my friends’: /

The girl in the above section answered with the last one. Ed Banger rookie. Writing this now, I’m sure she had the time of her life.

I say Sebastian. Two guys in front of me nod sagely. One of them wears a Woman Worldwide T-shirt and a Justice logo jacket. We mutually express wonder that Seb’s, like. Doing anything again. At this point, however, the queue is split into two: ticketed and buying at the door, on the opposite end of the entrance. The girl and I say farewells as she departs for the latter. Unfortunately, I do not get to see her again. It’s a shame. She was lovely.

9:55PM: Security emerges with QR code readers and club stamps and starts to call us in go go go go go go go go

9:58~PM: The bouncer initiating pat down pauses over my portable battery for a very long time, seemingly considering whether that’s legal. Fuck my life. Eventually, though, he lets me in and I s p r i n t for the bar.

It has begun.

A note before I start: like the XOYO gig review last year, this review has been composed via rough notes, photos, and videos I took through the show. It was a longer night than last year, and everyone played for a lengthy period of time; this review is thus split into six sections, one for each DJ, including timestamped observations and photos/gifs of the night.

The gifs are taken from my own videos. Unfortunately, Electric Brixton’s setup made photography difficult for three reasons: 1) an abundance of flashing lights, 2) the elevation difference between the dancefloor and the DJ booth, unlike in XOYO where there was no audience-DJ divide, and 3) smoke machines, as well as actual vapers in the form of Sebastian Akchoté. Those three things make a mess onscreen, so images are potato quality compared to where I was (front center). This was a constant problem during the night, so instead of complaining about it with every DJ, I’ll just refer to this as the I Cannot See For Shit (ICSFS) syndrome and call it a day.

Busy P (10PM to 11:50~PM)

10PM: Mother fucking sons of bitches raised the price of water!

As mentioned in the TBB review, a 500ml bottle of water at Electric Brixton was £3.00 in 2017. (Even in 2019, at a supermarket it can be as little as 55p/500ml.) Harsh, but it is what you’d expect from London. But when I came back they’d raised it to a whopping £3.60. You could buy yourself a meal with that kind of money, albeit a small one, even for London. Disgusting.

But what can you do with something as necessary as water. I did expect it. I’m sore about it, is all.

10:05PM: Restroom visited, water bought and tucked into bag, jacket tied around waist. I was wearing armwarmers. I take my place by the barriers, front row center, with a guy on my left and an empty space on my right. Left-hand arrangement will not change during the night, while on the right it will be chaos.

10:10PM: Very superstitious / nothin' more to say / very superstitious / the devil's on his way / thirteen month old baby / broke the lookin' glass / seven years of bad luck / good things in your past

This is my first video of the night. Might upload it later.

10:21PM: USE IMAGINATION 💫 AS A DESTINATION 💘 USE IMAGINATION 💫 AS A DESTINATIoOoON 💘 USE IMAGINATION AND COME CLooOoOSER 👄✨ 👄 FOREVER BEEEEE 😘 😘💋

‘Pleasure’ summons the two dudes I was talking to in the queue to my right, especially the Justice fan guy. They stuck with me through Pedro’s set.

10:30~PM: Pedro looks a lot happier than he did at XOYO last year. He’s interacting a lot with fans, smiling, bopping about the way we have all come to expect from him.

10:40PM: I see the first glimpse of another DJ hanging around at the back. It’s Myd, drinking in a corner.

10:50PM: Is that what I think it is. I think it’s what I think it is

10:51PM: POP THE GLOCK THE GLOCK YOU POP IF YOU OUTTA LINE IT’S YOU I’LL BANG POP POP THE GLOCK THE GLOCK YOU POP IF YOU OUTTA LINE IT’S YOU I’LL BANG POP

Fantastic to hear some Uffie in the mix. I missed her so damn much. I think I might upload that clip as well because I want to share the experience with y’alls.

10:54PM: Thibaut jitterbugs into the scene. The lighting’s too bad for a photo so I post about it on the hellsite instead.

11:19PM: The display in front of the DJ booth has remained constant until this point, displaying the Ed Banger logo with only the occasional change in lighting. But now the display suddenly starts changing. Check it out.

It got really trippy with Breakbot.

11:29PM: ‘Genie’ comes on. I can see Thibaut and Irfane at the back now, ready to take over. I take my first drink since I entered the club.

11:52PM: HE PUT ON ‘BURNIN’. HE ACTUALLY DID THAT.

Pedro picks up the mic at this point and greets us for the first time during the night. I have what he said on video but it’s hard for me to transcribe it over all the audience noise, it might have to be an upload later on; I have videos of most DJ-DJ segues of this night, so hopefully that should be an interesting exercise. According to the timestamp on this video, 11:52-53PM is when Thibaut put on the headphones and took over from Pedro, but he continues to linger

11:55PM:

just so he can cOMPLETELY LOSE HIS SHIT APPARENTLY.

Breakbot (Thibaut and Irfane) (11:50~PM to 1:30AM)

12:00AM: At midnight Thibaut and Irfane take over fully with ‘Break of Dawn’. There��s something wild about listening to people sing a song with no lyrics (da DA DA DA darararaRA).

12:05AM: Irfane was on serious mode all night. I’ve also realized that the light situation is not going to get better; if it was Pedro alone I could have forgotten about it, but Breakbot’s set was where the ICSFS got really, really bad. There are so many photos where I tried to capture beautiful moments between Thibaut and Irfane, as they were quite touchy with one another (not as much as they were at XOYO tho), and yet it all turned to shit. I’m so sad.

12:10~AM: The two dudes to the right of me leave. The music is most funky fresh and the smoke machines are on max, so much I cannot actually see either of the DJs on scene. A girl wearing light blue takes over to my right.

I think Electric Brixton has reached full capacity. It’s not a big venue, fitting only about 2000 people or so, but I can feel it in the air. I look behind me and all around me are unfamiliar faces, packed tightly in a crowd. It’s hot. I take off my armwarmers and cram them into my bag.

12:16AM: Irfane baby I love you but that was not a smooth segue.

(I don’t actually know what song he was on but the music like. Stopped 100% for a second. It didn’t sound intentional.)

12:25AM: I have a note on my phone that says ‘12:25 Pedro making heart’. I have no memory of this. Fangirl magistralucis what are your secrets.

12:30AM: you 😍💖 are all I think about 😍✨😍✨😍 keep me sulking and down 😘👇🏼 but you fill me with 🔥 so much 🔥 emotion 😳💖😳 and I’ll show my 🙏🏼🕊💐 devotion 💐🕊🙏🏼 to you ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

12:31AM: I cannot see for shit. Here have a light show I guess.

12:36AM: Dance, dance with me / Life's a fantasy / Stand next to me / Like ecstasy

12:48AM: Irfane puts on ‘Funkytown’. Thibaut dances beautifully. I’ll drink to that.

12:51AM:

What the hell is this?

1:07AM: Extra, extra, read all about it! The Mysterious Ninth Planet, located at last! Turns out it was in the hands of funky Frenchmen all along, who were hoarding not just the ninth planet, but ALL THE PLANETS

1:08AM: You may have seen what was happening during the above in Irfane’s instastory, actually. He put on ‘Le Freak’. I wonder whether I should upload this clip from where I was.

1:10AM:

?????

1:20AM: Pedro comes back into view. I try to film him but it doesn’t work out, and for once it had nothing to do with ICSFS. The girl to the right of me, who was rocking out for all of Breakbot’s set, is beginning to slump over on the railing. "Are you okay?” I call, but I don’t think she heard. From how rapidly it came on, how she could barely stand during the first five minutes of VC’s set, and how frantically her and her friends left afterwards (she could barely walk), it is quite possible she was going into diabetic shock. She did not return.

This is a known issue. You generally cannot bring food into London clubs, even if you’re diabetic. Electric Brixton had a complaint two years ago that a diabetic person was not permitted to bring in their food to prevent this exact thing happening. I hope whatever she had wasn’t that serious, but. I do wonder.

This leads to a note about security, I suppose. There were none up front by the barriers. There was no one to call for help to, except for maybe the stage photographers, and that’s not what they’re trained to do. People who were falling sick or too inebriated to stand would have benefited from having security help them beyond the barrier straight away, instead of having to wade their way back through a tight crowd.

This continued to be a problem.

1:20~AM: Vladimir Cauchemar is visible. He doesn’t have the skull mask on, but with something smooth concealing his face, kind of like the Taikobots of Danger’s Taiko-era set. When he takes over he has put the mask on.

Vladimir Cauchemar (1:30AM to 2:30AM)

1:30AM: I gotta say, VC was the easiest and the best to photograph in this show, and I both respect and resent that fact.

VC’s lighting stayed a consistent red and black through his set, similar to how it was at XOYO, and the clearest images I have of the night are of him. I’m still not over his collab with 6**9*** so my impression of him isn’t out of the woods yet, which is why my notes for him are brief.

I tell you what, though. He got the crowd going. VC was the first DJ to get the dude standing to the left of me dancing, and this is the dude who stayed the entire eight hours of the night by my side while on my right people faded in, faded out, barged into places. (Dude was holding out for Sebastian, but stuck around for all of Myd as well.) His set had serious limitations - the most gregarious sin of which I’ve noted down below - but he had a great stage personality. I have very mixed feelings.

Still didn’t prevent me from standing out certain songs to go on Russian duolingo, but that was my pride.

1:35AM: ‘Aulos’ comes on. I will upload that video because I might as well, I’ve little else videoed for VC. Someone taps my shoulder. It’s the friend of the dude whom I encountered outside, the Asian girl. “Can I put this here?” She calls, and places her coat down beyond the barrier; there are steps on the other side where you can place your drinks, bags, coats etc if you’re front row. She withdraws behind me afterwards, and when I next look back, she’s gone.

1:40AM: I’m honestly surprised how many people are digging VC’s set. He was not first choice for anyone I asked.

1:51AM: Vladimir, Aulos is great but not twice in the same set.

2:00AM: Third drink of the night. My legs are getting numb. The first 3-4 hours of a set are always the hardest. I don’t remember what VC was playing. At several points he played Michael Jackson but I have no record of when. I stood still to rest my legs and distracted myself with other pursuits.

2:18AM:

Hi I’m in this photo and I don’t like it.

2:26AM: VLADIMIR. AULOS IS GREAT, BUT NOT THRICE IN THE SAME SET.

This. This is the major problem with his set. I know it’s his biggest hit, but VC exploits ‘Aulos’ way too much, and from what I hear he essentially does this for every set he plays. Would it injure him to play a different song every now and then. Seriously. There are so many excellent songs in the world, and some of them might even be ones he’ll drop in the future. Why stick to ‘Aulos’ alone. I don’t get it.

2:26~AM: As I was noting down the third instance of ‘Aulos’, the girl who put her coat down returned. “Can I have my coat back?” She calls over the sound, and I peer over. I can’t see the coat. The red spotlight passes over the floor; the coat’s rolled off the steps and is now lying on the ground.

“I can’t reach it.” I shout. “It’s fallen off.”

“Oh no.” She shouts.

“Can you wait until the segue?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll go over the barrier, but thanks.”

I offer to help her over, but she doesn’t think she'll make it. She ducks out past the crowd and goes around the side instead (no security to stop her), runs over to grab her coat, and then leaves straight away. She’ll be back for Sebastian’s set, but now it’s Riton time.

Riton (2:30AM to 3:30AM)

I didn’t enjoy Riton’s set very much. This had 0% to do with his music and everything to do with the chaos on my right-hand side, which made it worse. If it was the artist that was bad you chalk it up to a mismatch in interests, but knowing other concertgoers unilaterally deprived you of a good experience is a unique level of terrible. There are no timestamps for this section because I was too busy keeping an eye on my surroundings to take notes; he was also afflicted with the ICSFS, which didn’t help, but it’s a darn shame how much I missed out.

Oh and that too. That was his light show. Riton was a special guest and his name/logo was the dominant display for the entirety of his set. But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk about the chip on my shoulder.

Here’s the thing. I attend most of the gigs I go to by myself. I prefer it that way because I get anxious when things go wrong. I have a very specific set of items I bring with me to concerts, and practice very meticulous timekeeping. One of the rules I observe during gigs is that I do not move from my position: I prefer front centre or front centre-right generally, but wherever it is, I stay put.

I am not a tall woman. If I lose my place, it is unlikely I’d get it back. I’m full of anxiety about being at my place, but I’m more anxious to avoid losing it, so I defend it with all my might. I have never lost my place in almost ten years and this show was no exception. But my goodness did the guys to my right push my buttons this time. The guy who was to the right of me for Riton was with a group, all of whom were banging on the barriers and creating a ruckus. Just my luck he was the only one who seemed actually inebriated. He kept putting his head down on the railing, slumped over for minutes at a time, before suddenly raving and flailing around whenever Riton dropped a beat. He had no consideration for whoever he was accidentally knocking about (i.e. me) during this. And as I said, there was no security up front, so I was on my own.

At first I had some sympathy, because I still wasn’t over the girl who left earlier. I’ve never seen people who were inebriated/high during shows last very long where they were, either. But the fifteenth time dude nearly poked my eye out, it was just too much. I do not like people prodding their way into my personal space. I do not like it, Sam-I-Am.

The last time I had to be vicious with a concertgoer was at TBB, where a ginger-haired girl kept on trying to tear people from their place up front, and eventually was ejected by security after she got into a catfight with another girl next to me. Apparently this time it was my turn to give into Righteously Indignant Bitch Hours and the next time he started flailing his arm into my neck, I grabbed him and slammed his hand onto the railing and shouted “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.”

I wish I could say this made him stop. However, life is dumb. Dude was too out of it to comprehend his own actions, let alone my complaints. His friends pulled him out of the front row for about five minutes but then he came staggering back, muttering something about his lens cap (?) and if I’d seen it. It wasn’t long before he began to barge into the surrounding people again. Only elbows were the solution; I can barely move my right arm even now, it feels so bruised. I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not sure what I could have done differently, and I would do the same even now.

But, you know. It could have been worse. If you’ve been front row, you know there’s a difference between those who’re trying to grab a good time and those who act out of malice. The former usually try to sneak a hand in next to yours on the railing, or crash into you from the back, or wedge their way in - but they almost always follow it up with an apology, and they tend to carve out their own little space, not actively steal yours. Yes I’m talking about that ginger-haired girl at the TBB show again. I’ve attended full on firebreathing industrial metal shows at much bigger, suffocating venues, and yet those audiences still managed to avoid being vicious and petty. She was the worst. Holy shit. It’s been two years and I’m still mad. Fucking bitch I hope you step in a puddle. What was I writing about again? Oh yeah the dude. He wasn’t acting out of malice, but out of irresponsibility. And to be honest, his friends weren’t that better, save for a girl who was about five feet eight tall and complimented that I was still standing later in the set: “I had to sit down after Thibaut and you’re still jumping like nothing happened!”

That made me think about my own stamina. I never thought I had much. I’m twenty-five years old. I’m in my prime, but I had more energy when I was eighteen, and I am old enough to keep that in mind. I’m not getting younger. After a show I’m bruised and my muscles ache and I pass out asleep for hours at a time. I’m usually awake for 30hrs~ during those times. I don’t eat or drink much before shows to prevent bathroom breaks. I ate on 3:30pm on the 25th and didn’t touch a single morsel of food again until 7am on the 26th, and even then it was a sandwich. After dancing for eight hours.

It’s been that way for years. But maybe most people? Don’t? Do that? And maybe I am? Actually quite strong? For regularly surviving what I do to myself?

I don’t know. Let’s move onto what I think 70% of you are here to read about.

Sebastian (3:30AM to 4:30AM)

3:30AM: Predictably, Sebastian gets the loudest cheers of the night when he comes on. Riton announces him and passes him the headphones. He still does the hand thing, by the way.

This thing.

3:30~AM: Not an observation of the moment, but of the entire set. Seb played some big name EDM songs and what I believe are versions of his YLS tracks. He was the only set I wanted to record in full, but I wasn’t tall enough and my equipment wasn’t good enough to do so. ICSFS is in play. I sort of hoped he'd stuck with his vicious red lighting from Primary Tour, and he did, but not to a degree where I could get good shots of him.

Is anyone excited for him to drop an album this year or what. Pedro said he would.

3:38AM: Seb also has the dubious honour of being the only DJ who contributed extra to the ICSFS problem. He vapes through the entire set. I have lots of feelings and I don’t know what to do with myself honestly.

3:39AM: Neither do the dudes to my right. They are the friends of the inebriated dude who has since staggered off into the crowd. They are completely losing their shit, screaming and taking their shirts off and kicking at the barriers. They contributed to some of the bruises on my right arm. But they still didn’t take my place so whatever.

3:40~AM: Seb is not a smiler. Photographer comes by and he gives him a single glance before turning back. I don’t know why I’m surprised.

3:43AM: The Asian girl with the coat from earlier comes back. She asks me to deposit a different layer of coat this time over the barrier, and stands behind me. I feel very protected.

3:50~AM: Balm to aid my pain: photographers start coming down from the stage to pass out Ed Banger pins and stickers. The first lot are thrown into the audience, but the second photographer takes the time to give all of us one. This is the first time I’ve scored thrown Ed Banger merch during a set. I usually can’t reach them because I am smol.

I am also bonding with the dude to my left during this time. We collaborate to catch the pins we want and share them out between the two of us. He gets the Ed Banger melody logo pin, and gives me the Ed Banger 15 Ans pin. “Are you sure?” I ask. He smiles and nods. I thank him and hand him a Breakbot sticker, one that’s of his name.

4:06AM: What the fuck the lights are changing

4:06AM: Is that

4:06AM: IT IS

4:07AM: IT’S JUSTICE. IT’S HEAVY METAL. SEB’S PLAYING HEAVY METAL AND HE’S DOING THE HAND THING AND THE LIGHT SHOW’S TRIPPY AS FUCK ALL OF A SUDDEN AND EVERYONE IS SCREAMING AND THE DUDE LEFT OF ME IS DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR SEB IN FRENCH AND I AM SCREAMING OH MY FUCKING GOD

4:09AM: HE SEGUES TO ROLLIN’ AND SCRATCHIN’. HE LITERALLY DID THAT. SEBASTIAN AKCHOTE IS PLAYING ROLLIN’ AND SCRATCHIN’ AND WE’RE ALL GOING BATSHIT INSANE. I’M SORRY FOR THE BAD CAMERA WORK. THIS IS HOW I DIE.

4:15~AM: Myd is finally going back and forth. He will close the night after Sebastian has finished his set. Looking back on the videos of the night, I can’t believe he only played for an hour; it felt a bit longer than that, Sebastian never let up for a single second as long as he was onstage. Not a single minute wasted. And now you’re going to have to excuse me babes because he’s puttING ON STRESS AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE AGAIN RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

4:24AM: AAAAAAAAAAAA

(Seb’s still playing Stress. Looping the chainsaw noises. Steady camera work lmao what steady camera work)

4:30AM: Sebastian hands over the reins to Myd at this point. I do not have a video of this segue because he does not announce the takeover; with one of his inscrutable hand gestures and a proud look, Sebastian takes up a whole bottle of wine and silently walks offstage. Again, I don’t know why I am remotely surprised. That is probably the most Seb thing I have seen Seb do all night, and it was a night extremely full of Seb things.

At this point I stop jotting down notes on my phone. But I’m at about 58% battery and going strong, so I’m still taking photos and videos whenever I can. Myd’s section is reconstructed from these records.

Myd (Round 2) (4:30~AM to 6:00AM)

4:30~AM: Not a specific observation. As mentioned in the Breakbot review of May 2018, I have unfinished business with Myd. Or at least: had. Myd played the closer in XOYO last year, and back then I was weak and I could not stay through his entire set. I swore to myself the next time he returned, and I was able to see him, I would last as long as he was onstage.

And I did. That’s one promise to myself kept, and what I hope was a little justice done for a DJ of Myd’s caliber.

4:35AM: Coat girl taps my shoulder again. “I’m going home. Could you...?” She gestures to the barrier, and I reach down and pull up her coat. It didn’t roll onto the ground this time.

“There you are.” I say. She takes it and gives me a hug. “Have a good night.”

“Have a good night!” Then she’s gone, alongside the exodus of people who are leaving the club. More people stuck around for Myd here than in XOYO. Guy to my left nudges me to look; stickers are coming around again, specifically the ‘Hello My Name Is _______ [Myd]’ one. We each take one.

4:44AM: I’m out of water. Actually I was out of water immediately before Seb finished, because for some reason I thought downing the last of my only means of hydration with over 1h 30mins to go was a sensible thing to do. I regret this decision bitterly, but I’ll probably survive.

4:58AM:

@_@

5:03AM: It is very difficult for me to ID Myd’s tracks. I suspect a lot of them are original or are from his recent release that I haven’t yet listened to. Appropriate to a closer, he takes a very trance-inspired line to his entire set, with lots of repetition and few loud drops; this was the same in XOYO. I wonder what a Myd headliner set must be like.

5:10~AM: The guy to the left of me is struggling. So am I. But further to his left, there is a guy slumped on the rails. His girlfriend is beside him. They’ve been there all night, but they’ve clearly reached their limit. My right hand side keeps refilling and emptying as people step away or leave.

I talk about that other guy because he summons Thibaut to him.

5:28AM: I took several vids of this but this timestamp belongs to the longest. Thibaut comes back with his own phone to film the audience. He winks and shyly gestures all of us to gather our strengths and be more pumped up, and I recall we obliged him because he asked so nicely. He lingered for some time, gazing at us as fondly as we were gazing at him. He then looked at the guy slumped over on the railing and hopped down from the stage, gently patting his shoulder to talk to him.

I didn’t hear any of their conversation, save for Thibaut asking the dude ‘where he was from’. By the way he clasped his hand to his chest several times, though, I’m inclined to think he was really concerned about the guy. They eventually shook hands and Thibaut made as if to hop back onstage. (The photo was taken as he was leaving.)

Except he couldn’t jump that high. He gave us another shy look and braced his foot against the barriers, perching neatly on the stage before clambering up. He stuck around for about five more minutes to check up on the audience.

I love Thibaut so much. He’s so gentle.

5:34~AM: Holy fuck my bag is full of crap. I haven’t organized it in some time. Discarded cups, beer cans etc have accumulated by my feet, and as I kick them away I’m trying to check my loot is in place and I still have my items. I can’t feel my passport and my blood runs cold for a moment. I turn the camera flash on to look.

“Are you looking for something?” The guy to my left asks worriedly.

I feel my passport in my front pocket. False alarm. “Just organizing my bag.”

(I didn’t see any lost foreign ID or driver licenses on the floor this time.)

5:43AM:

Russian duolingo says fuck millennial lives

5:50~AM: The smoke machine is turned off. I still can’t see for shit, though, because the lights flash rapidly between deep blue and violet and Myd’s hidden behind it.

My last video of the night is timestamped 5:55AM. Myd has a most benevolent smile on his face. He knows the night is drawing to a close.

6:00AM: I did it.

We made it.

I have made it through a Myd set fully and have survived the night.

Myd finished exactly at 6am and exited to a crowd of applause. There are calls for an encore, but given that it's... like, literally morning, it’s not realistic to expect him to stay any longer. Security comes by as soon as he exits, and we all leave Electric Brixton behind at last. The sun has not yet risen. I fall in step with the guy next to me.

Guy: Where are you heading to?

Me: Coach. I came up from Brighton.

Guy: From Brighton?! Was that last night or what?

Me: Yep, two hours before the show. I haven’t eaten or slept all night.

Guy: Wow. [Pause.] Though I think that’s the longest I’ve danced in my entire life, too.

Me: You’re not kidding. I really didn’t think I was going to last beyond Sebastian.

I think he was a Londoner. We say farewells in front of the Electric Brixton bus stop, and I leave for the Underground. My legs are numb and I can barely walk, but somehow I stumble past the barriers and sink into the seats of the train. Back at Victoria Train Station I drop in at Sainsburys for a sandwich and two cans of grape soda, and then realizing I need a resealable container to take on the bus, buy a bottle of Pepsi. The grape soda was just because I really love grape soda and I cannot find a place in Brighton that sells any. It was around 8AM when I finally got on the coach back home.

I had not slept for some twenty hours. I continued to not sleep on the bus. I tried very hard to, but I couldn’t, because I was still buzzing from the adrenaline. It wasn’t until I got home, just after 11AM, that I began to feel sleepy for real. Sig. other made me a cup of tea, and I took the interval to admire some cat slippersocks that had arrived for me in the meantime.

LOOK AT IT.

Overall I’d say this was a fantastic night. I have taken care of unfinished business and seen Sebastian in the flesh. I have, however, come away with another unfinished business to replace the deal with Myd - I should seek out Riton again, the next time he comes here, and deliver a full review of what that was like. To think of the Ed Banger crew making their way across Europe in 2019, with new material and a new Sebastian in tow...

😍😍😍

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f1chronicle · 4 years

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Lewis Hamilton Inspires Others To Dream

On the day he was crowned World Champion for a record-equaling seventh time, Lewis Hamilton had a simple message: Always believe in yourself, and continue to dream.

In a year that has seen unprecedented challenges for people across the globe, many people have been looking to leaders to inspire them to keep pushing, something Hamilton is all too aware of as he continues to inspire millions.

Crowning Achievement One Of Lewis Hamilton’s Best

After being accustomed to starting on the front row of the grid, a tricky qualifying session saw Hamilton start from the third row, setting up a mouth-watering battle with the likes of Max Vertappen and the two Racing Point drivers ahead of him.

In the end, it was the experience gained on the road to seven titles that saw Hamilton not just claw back a deficit, but go on to record arguably one of the best wins of his F1 career.

‘I’m a bit lost for words. Naturally, I have to start with saying such a huge thank you to all the guys here and all the guys back at the factory, both our factories, and all our partners for enabling us and giving us this opportunity.

‘I wouldn’t be able to do this if I didn’t join this team and the journey we have been on has been monumental. I’m so proud of them. I want to also say a big thank you to team LH for sticking with me all these years and then to my family.

‘We dreamed of this when were young, when I was young, when we were watching the grands prix and this is way, way beyond our dreams.

‘It’s so important for kids out there to hopefully see this and know that… don’t listen to anybody that tells you you can’t achieve something. Dream the impossible and speak it into existence. You’ve got to work for it. You’ve got to chase it and you’ve got to never give up and never doubt yourself.

‘We knew coming here it was already such a difficult weekend. We weren’t massively disappointed with our qualifying position. We knew that we were kind of on the back foot and we did the best we could.

‘But then we learned a lot. This is what we do as a team. There is no blame game. We hash it out. We do hash it out. We continue to try to improve our communication so that we can make moves forwards. We don’t always get everything perfect.

‘We had that small moment at the beginning of the race with the new tyres and then I couldn’t get past Seb for a while. At that point I could see Albon pulling away and I though “Jesus, this race is falling through my fingers”. But I just kept my head down and kept believing that I would eventually just pick up pace of some sort at some stage. And that’s what I did.

‘There was a point at which Seb was pulling away from me and I couldn’t figure out at the time what it was. I was checking my temperatures. I didn’t know if it was because the tyres were overheating or they were too cold. They went through a drier patch.

‘I went through the real rough phase of the graining on the tyres and then it started to come back, the grip started to come back. The track was drying in some areas and I was improving my driving lines the whole way through the race and I started to pick up pace.

‘Then Seb pitted and for me I knew that wasn’t the right choice personally and so I decided to stay out and as the tyres got more and more slick that’s exactly what you needed. Fortunately that intermediate tyre holds temperature. If I went out on new slicks I wouldn’t have made it round.

‘I lost the world championship in the pit lane and I learned my lesson from 2007 that’s for sure. I felt like I really had it under control and the grip was feeling good and I was going to deal with the rain if it dropped… oh wow.’

Here you can watch Hamilton deliver a powerful message at the conclusion of the 2020 Turkish Grand Prix.

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How Does Turkey Result Rank For Lewis Hamilton?

With many pundits and fans alike feeling the result was one of Hamilton’s best wins of his career, the 7-Time World Champion didn’t see it that way, as every race feels unique to him.

‘I’ve been racing a long time, so it’s difficult to compare! I would say that generally every race fells like it’s the first. It’s unique. I don’t compare any race to any other race.

‘I’m always in a different place in life, so I like to say they are all unique in their own way. I think for sure, this one felt like a very, very complete day on track, under the toughest circumstances.

‘With this track and the new surface here, you see people who are professional drives, incredible drivers, you saw them losing control today, that’s how slippery and difficult the conditions were.

‘This was a big test for me because you know, in the rain, you know what you normally do in the rain, but this is different, in the sense that this is ice!

‘I don’t remember having an ice race before. I feel like I achieved something different today. For sure I know that not everyone expected that. I definitely didn’t expect that, but I was hopeful that I was going to move forwards.

‘I got a good start, lost position on the first lap with those new tyres, but the more I race, the more I feel like I’m getting better. I think I’m understanding myself more. I know what I want from the car. I know what buttons to push. During a race I’m constantly tweaking my driving style.

‘It’s like trying to find the right numbers to put together to be able to get you through the corners in a way that is faster than everyone else. That mathematics, that algorithm never seems to stop. It’s always a challenge from lap to lap and I think today I was really mastering it, at least from half way in the race.’

Lewis Hamilton Made Call To Stay On Old Tyres

With the race coming to him in the second half, Lewis Hamilton was able to use his experience to make the call to stay out on old tyres – a move that paid off with the race win.

‘Obviously I got a really good start and then I lost position. I avoided getting a penalty going around the bollard. I struggled behind everybody. I know everyone was struggling but I was struggling behind that group of cars that was ahead of me.

‘Then, we saw people even like Max, who is great in the wet, spin and lose control and have to do extra stops. I was behind Seb and for a moment I was thinking I might get past him but then me and him were having this battle and it was so frustrating not to be able to get past him.

‘But also I was thinking, “you know what, Seb has had the toughest year, I would say arguably perhaps in his whole career” and I just thought he was driving so well, but at the same time I was like, “he’s doing so good, but dammit, he’s in the way, the guys up ahead are getting away!”

‘And then he started pulling away from me and I think at that point I could definitely see the win seeping away. I looked at my dash and I was on lap 30 or something like that and then I was like, “no, there’s a long, long way to go and anything can happen, so just keep your head down, keep going, keep pushing”.

‘All of a sudden I found a few things that improved the handling of the car and I started getting around in much quicker laps and I started to close on Seb, and then he pitted.

‘And I knew, for me, I was like: “There’s no way you guys are pulling me in. These tyres aren’t done and the track is in this progressive state and it’s not going to dry up fully by the end of the race.” So I knew all these things from all these experiences I’ve ever had so I was able to use history, to use past experience to deliever those laps I was doing afterwards.

‘And as soon as I could see the Racing Point’s ahead I knew that it’s game time. You’ve just got to keep your head, keep your cool and don’t make mistakes.’

2020 Turkish Grand Prix, Lewis Hamilton (image courtesy Mercedes-AMG Petronas)

Lewis Hamilton Still Blazing A Trail

With the worlds microscope on racism in 2020, Lewis Hamilton has led the charge for greater inclusivity, highlighting systemic issues in the sport as well as leading the #WeRaceAsOne campaign.

‘It’s obviously no secret that I’ve really walked this sport alone: the only black person here, or the only person of colour here and it’s a really interesting point.

‘The fact is that as I’m bi-racial, whilst it’s the term of the black driver here, I’m bi-racial and I think this colourism that perhaps people should perhaps read about.

‘I think that, hopefully, shows, when I was younger, I didn’t have anybody in the sport that looked like me and, so, you know, it was easy to think that that’s not possible to get there, because nobody of your colour has ever been there, you don’t see anybody on TV, any black people on TV that are in Formula 1.

‘I think hopefully this sends a message to the kids that are watching. Hopefully they’ve seen that performance today and hopefully they can see that it doesn’t matter where you come from, I think whatever your background, I think it’s so important to you to dream big.

‘And if you are looking at places, industries that you don’t see someone of the same background as you, or the same ethnicity as you, or with the same religion, create your own path. Because that’s what we did. That’s what I’ve been able to do. And it’s been so tough. Tough doesn’t even describe how hard it’s been. I hope that sends that message. That’s the most important message for kids: to dream as big as possible and not give up.’

Hamilton Emotional After Crossing The Line

Lewis Hamilton often wears his heart on his sleeve, especially when discussing the journey he and his family have gone through to get to seven titles.

That emotion poured out as the Brit took the chequered flag in Turkey.

‘Very rarely do I ever lose control of my emotions and I think those last few laps, I remember those last few laps and obviously we’re having a discussion whether we’re going to pit.

‘I was just telling myself, ‘keep it together Lewis, you’ve got this’. I could feel it getting closer and also knowing that, if I finish where I’m finishing right now, that I’ve got this championship.

‘So, all of these emotions were running through me, and I was trying to stop it because I was thinking about my whole career. From when I was five, when I drove in the go-kart, from when we’ve won our first British Championship, driving home with my Dad, singing ‘We Are the Champions’, and dreaming of being here – it is right there, minutes away and that was a lot to take in.

‘When I came across the line, it really hit me and I just burst into tears, I think. That whole in-lap. And then I really just couldn’t get out of the car because I just couldn’t believe it.

‘I’ve been very strong but I couldn’t have done it without the great man behind me, my Dad, who, on the days when I didn’t think I was good enough, or wasn’t going to do well enough, he stood me up and kept me going.

‘So, I was thinking of him, I was thinking of my Mum, I was thinking of my step-mother Linda, my brother, who all stood by me through thick and thin. I didn’t want the visor to come up and for people to see tears flowing and all of that stuff – because I had always said that I would never let you see me cry. I remember watching other drivers in the past crying and I was like” ‘I am not going to do that’ – but it was too much.’

2020 Turkish Grand Prix, Lewis Hamilton (image courtesy Mercedes-AMG Petronas)

Race Win Silences Critics

Many critics point to Hamilton always having the best car, always starting at the front, and not having to overtake.

All of these arguments flew out the window as Hamilton won a race that wasn’t his to win.

‘I want more of these weekends. More tricky conditions like this. The more opportunities like this, the more I’m able to show what I’m able to do. And I think today hopefully you can see… I think I deserve my respect.

‘I think I have that with my peers. They will know how hard today is, particularly that it is not a car thing.

‘However, I couldn’t have done this without that amazing group of people behind me – but there is another great driver who is alongside me, who has the same car who obviously didn’t finish where I finished.

‘I do notice that there are these interesting comments from past drivers, particularly. I really, really promise you, and hope that I stand by my word, when I stop in ten, 20 years from now and look back, I want to be embracing and encouraging the next youngsters that are here, whether it’s Lando, whether its George, whoever it may be, whether it’s Max.

‘I know how hard it is to do the job and I know how this world works. Of course you have to have a good team and of course you have to have a great car. There is no driver that’s ever won – really won – the Championship in the past without it.

‘It goes back the same all the way down to karting. You’ve got to have the right equipment. I remember my first championship. I raced and the kid that won was on rocket engines, which Jenson Button’s Dad had tuned. Those engines were real rockets. Compared to the cheap, crappy engine that I had which was fifth hand, there was no way I could keep up with these kids, and I remember that one weekend with Kim Bolton in 1992, 1993, and he was moving on to the next class, he was selling on these engines. I remember my Dad had to re-mortage the house to get this £2000 engine – but what we did that day was me and this kid, who’d been winning everything, we put his other engine that I was going to buy, that we were looking to buy, in my car and I was ahead of him all the time on track.

‘So, of course, you’ve got to have the equipment, of course you’ve got to have it and that’s something that will always be in this sport. But then it’s also what you do with it that really also counts – and hopefully you can see that today,’ concluded the 7-Time World Champion.

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