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lettersfromleslie · 2 years

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TOUR FADES / FINGER DAYS / & THE TWISTY PATH UNSCROLLIN AHEAD

Welly well, much has happened since I last wrote ya, as ever. The new album, "Halfway Home" went live on August 5th. There was a slammed release show at the Sultan Room. Vinyl records, CDs, and cassettes started tip-toeing their way out into the world. A hectic and sweaty phase of nightly park busking. And then off on my first tour since 2014, an 11-date meander around Central Europe.

What a lot of ground to cover! Especially looking back at it from the start of this next phase of lassitude and healing. I reckon I'll just not cover most of it, for now. It's out of sight, out of mind. I'm back in my place in Brooklyn, with a garbled head and a bandaged finger, all of it behind me, and little idea of what comes next. I always knew the old lost feeling of having-put-something-out would find me once I got home, but it's been stepped up some because of my damn finger.

The finger phase, that's how I'll remember this time. Here's what happened: Two thirds of the way through the tour, in Slovakia, on my way from Bratislava to a concert Nitra, I caught my left index finger in an especially slicey metal door. One minute I was whistling away, thinking bout my set, looking forward to diving into some Raymond Chandler on the train ride over, and the next I'm looking in complete disbelief at my finger, half the damn tip hanging off and the blood starting to flow. A lot of paper towels, a panicked ride to the hospital, a very sheepish phone call with my Slovakian booking agent from the E.R. waiting room, asking her to cancel the night's performance. And then a big, serene Slovakian surgeon preparing the needle and thread. "Do you think you could give this finger a bit of extra love?" I mumble, lying down on the operating table, hot on top of everything else because I'm still wearing my coat (too much blood and paper towels to take off). "I mean, not doubting you, but I really need that finger to be okay. I'm a guitar player. I'm here on tour." "You play the guitar? For work?" "Yeah." "You should take better care of your hands, then!" "Well, yeah." "How long before you go home?" "About two weeks." He looks at me laconically. "I think you will not be playing guitar in two weeks." My finger was anasthetized, disinfected, stitched up, bandaged. I was worried about the bill because I have no health insurance. As it turned out, the out-of-pocket cost of stitching up a finger in Slovakia comes to $37.10. So that was something.

Depressing conversations followed, of course. Everyone around me took it as a given that the remaining four dates would be cancelled. I refused to consider it... I figured that as much as I love noodling around on the guitar, I'm a yodeler first. Shit, even if the crowd showed up and I was just standing there in a hospital gown with me finger in the air, mumbling apocalyptic verses, that sounded like less of a bummer than if I cancelled. Besides, I had other acts to consider - the lovely Andrea Bucko, a local celeb in Bratislava, was opening the following night, and after that two shows with my old friend Karl who would open with his act Interbellum. Even if I bombed I wanted to give them a chance to play. So, what can you play without a left index finger? Started looking around for autoharps. I found out that Bratislava is not a great place to search for autoharps. I started looking around for keyboards. As luck would have it one of our contacts in Bratislava was able to loan us a small Yamaha keyboard - one of those slightly cheesy-sounding jobs with the built-in speakers, drum patterns, and an unnecessary amount of functions. I stayed up half the nite trying to re-arrange my songs for keys while taking breaks to ice me throbbing fingey. As good a way as any to keep yer mind off the catastrophes...

I was thinking about David Byrne the whole time. Last January Ariel and I had snagged tickets to see his American Utopia show on Broadway, and days before the concert half his band had tested positive for COVID. Rather than cancel the show, he'd written all ticket holders a breathless email in which he wrote that he would be happy to refund or change our tickets, but that we should know he and the remaining band members were creating an "Exciting new show, a show you'll never, ever see again, a 'Once in a Lifetime' experience, that will only be seen for a few performances!" What was striking was how badly he still seemed to want us to come. Every seat was filled in that theater that nite. And all through the chaotic, stripped-down performance, Byrne and his band did everything they could to make the crowd feel like they really were getting something special, something that attendees of the regular show wouldn't experience. For the crew it must've been a nightmare, but for us in the crowd it was inspiring.

So I'd like to thank D.B. for that one, as well as his music. That's the attitude I took to putting together a new set... And the show went on, eh? I stumbled and gaffed plenty, but I made sure everyone was in on it. "We'll always have this, me darlings" - said jokingly, but I meant it - "Up to the days of our deaths we'll always have Stubby Bob's Fingerless Roadshow - for your eyes and ears only. Enjoy!"

Hell, I'm proud for seeing it thru. And I hope everyone does remember it. Aside from Nitra, the day of the slice, not a show was cancelled.

That was that. Ariel joined for the last part of the tour and we flew back to NYC via Romania, a country we'd both always wanted to visit. Took a night train from Budapest to Sibiu, going thru the grotesque learning process of changing a finger bandage in our rattling sleeping compartment. Spent a week slinking about Transylvania, dragging me mummyfinger around the vampire-kitsch of the local tourist industry. Spooky season. Just right. Blew some tour money. Pushed off the reckoning.

Anyway, here it is, that reckoning. Out of work I be for a while, sitting on my arse in Brooklyn watching the weather turn from gold to grey, signing bills for suture removal and hand specialists. No workers comp for DIY busker bum tours, chappies. You just pay the dang bill. As part of my ongoing effort to never have a real job, I'm planning to go out into the parks all the same to tell fortunes and improvise poems for finger money. Can I predict the future..? Guess we'll see.

And you - have you listened to the new record yet then, eh? If you're here reading this, I reckon so. I'm doing two long-form bits here back to back - keep scrolling for my post-partum thoughts on the new baby. What a lot of luv I have for those songs. Every one I send out into the world feels like a form of life insurance.

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taylorswiftstylequestions · 2 years

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Hi Sarah! How did you go about snagging that last minute red show ticket? I’m trying to go to a concert this week and it’s sold out, with resale prices higher than I’m willing to pay. Do you just wait until the super last minute and they tend to go down?

Hi! Last minute ticket buying is the biggest gamble of all and should only be done if you're also absolutely okay with not going - depending on how in-demand the show in question.

I got my ticket purely on a whim. I happened to be in town the night of the show and wasn't entirely sure if I was going to go or not. My best friend and I were roadtripping and already had tickets for the show in Tacoma literally the next day (after already seeing her a few months prior in Vancouver) so I was in a situation where if I saw her in Portland it would just be a fun bonus. I checked to see if there were any tickets and there were so I grabbed one.

It's really just about luck and availability and if you're going alone or you don't mind not sitting with your friends you'll be in better shape to get a ticket because single floating seats are more common than seats grouped together that last minute.

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hashtagmagazine · 5 months

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#economybookings #flights #savingtips #travel

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pulsdmedia · 1 year

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The Week Ahead In NYC 8/6-8/12

The fun is on! Summer is still going strong, and we're diving deep into everything that's happening this month before September creeps in. The sunshine will be out (give or take a few summer showers) and we'll be out there - will you?

$29: Dinner With Cocktails & Comedy Show Ticket, Flatiron

Described as "upscale" by Time Out, Slate is a treasure that's reshaping nightlife to suit all types of New Yorkers. Prepare to savor chef-driven delights like the delectable Spinach & Artichoke Dip Pizza or the irresistible Chicken Wing Confit, offered with an array of finger-licking sauces. Indulge in your favorite libations and relish the sumptuous fare while the charming hosts and comedians, Gideon Hambright and Patrick Hastie, take the stage. They'll introduce you to a fabulous lineup of eight top-notch comedians. Get ready for a HA-HA-HA-hot night!

Shop the 260 Final Sale Featuring Sergio Tacchini & Hugo Boss

As we cruise through the last official month of summer, don't miss out on the chance to grab some pieces for any last minute vacations or some transitional items to propel you into fall! Head to 260's Final Sale to snag some items from amazing brands Sergio Tacchini & Hugo Boss.

$29: 2 Hour Open Bar Tiki Party, Including Special Tiki Cocktails!

Free-flowing drinks, electric social vibes, playful games, and a tropical oasis await at SPiN's Tiki Open Bar Party! Enjoy a 2 Hour Open Bar serving up Cocktails, Tiki Themed Cocktails, Wines, and Beers amidst the festive, tropical tiki decor. Be it never-ending piña coladas, frosty brews, or vivacious wines, revel with ample liquid courage to hit the dance floor as the live DJ plays the hits. It's no wonder celebs & socialites adore this booze-lover's paradise...

An Unbeatable Outdoor Performance by the Talented Alexander 23

Alexander Glantz is the creative force behind Alexander 23 who would gain widespread attention with the release of his RIAA Gold Certified Track "IDK You Yet" which was featured on Spotify's Today's Top Hits and has been streamed over 300 million times on Spotify alone. In 2021, Alexander 23 received a Grammy Nomination for his co-production on "good 4 u" by Olivia Rodrigo.

$50 Ticket To The 18th Annual Jazz Age Lawn Party

Glamour, celebration, vintage extravagance, indulgence, and sunshine - the annually sold-out Jazz Age Lawn Party returns for its bacchanal of technicolor beauty & bliss. Amidst the sunshine & greenery of this beautiful part of the city, you'll swig on cocktails, hit up activations like the Dreamland General Store offering parasols, hand fans, and picnic sundries, partake in dance lessons, snap vintage portraits, marvel at the 1920s motorcar exhibit, shop the vintage clothing market, and so much more! So whether you slip into that seersucker suit or prefer to be dripping in bejeweled frocks a la Josephine Baker, you'll find yourself in a paradise of playful sensations...

Section 101 Creators Evening

Section 101's Creators are connecting with their favorite content creators to launch Drop 104. Go to Showfields NoHo to meet Maddie and Olivia, local influencers, and try on their newest pieces. There will be drinks, fashion, and a professional photographer to capture content for you!

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t-h-i-n-g · 2 years

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idk if i asked but

can u write a fanfic of Max just getting out the hospital but is blind and the reader is her big strong gf who goes to work all day and goes home to take care of Max to find her stuck on the floor while Max's mom is passed out drunk so reader kicks Max's mom out and takes care of max, always telling her she loves her and taking her everywhere she goes from then on?

Locked Door

a/n: i missed a little part in your request i hope thats okay. it's like the tines tbit and it's practically still there BUT I DON"T WANT TO SPOIL. i hope you still like it :))))

word count: 2k

summary: after your shift at the local market you head over to max's to get out of the heat. but what you find there was nowhere near what you were expecting.

warnings: basically everything in the request, light swearing, if i missed any let me know!!

st - masterlist m.masterlist

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

Sweat dripped off your nose as the sun’s burning rays shined down onto your face. Huffing breaths escaped you, while your legs were peddling. The market's vest would have blown off way behind you by now if it wasn't for the sweat that made it to cling to your front. Thank god Max lived only a 10 minute bike ride to her place from your work. You don’t think you could do the half an hour one to yours without a water break. Maybe wearing a long sleeve and jeans wasn't the best option of the day. But it was 60 when you left the house. How were you supposed to know that it was going to get up in the 90s by the time your shift ended.

The air conditioner in the back was so nice. And the fact your job was to only unload the new produce and other foods back there didn’t really give you the hint either. You muttered cuss words to yourself quietly as the bumping gravel made your jeans rub feverishly against your skin. It was almost certain that you’d get a rash.

Max would for sure have some of your clothes at her house you could snag back. You didn’t care what it was. The basketball shorts and oversized tee you left there accidentally at your last movie night. Or even the swimsuit that was a size too small from the beginning of spring break. It didn’t matter. All you wanted to do was get these sticky, smelly clothes off of you.

Your legs subconsciously went faster as the trailer park came into sight. The bike's tire smoothed across the rocks and grass. A cloud passed over much to your relief and you used the rest of your new found passion to hurry the hell up.

Your shoulders heaved up and down in an animated motion when you slowed down to a stop. Hunching over the handles you took a much needed couple of deep breaths.

“You good over there, L/n?” A familiar voice called from the right of you. Turning your head you caught sight of Eddie. A hose in his hand. His van drenched as suds were flowing into the grass. Eddie himself was in a white muscle-tee and some shorts. His pale skin blinding you more than the sun.

“Yeah, remind me to never wear jeans in the middle of August ever again,” you voiced back, getting up to place your kickstand. You took a couple steps closer to him while he took in your miserable state. Shuffling awkwardly as your workers vest even had sweat shown through it. The little plastic name tag with a smiley face pin on it didn’t look too smiley contrasted to your glum expression. He let out a couple chuckles in amusement.

“Lessons were learned though not?” he asked. His lip curled up in the corner slightly. You rolled your eyes, kicking off your shoes and pulling off your socks. Tossing them to the side. You were not in the mood for his teasing behavior. You stood with legs shoulder width apart as your arms spread out, eyes closed.

“Just spray me. Give me some sort of relief,” you practically begged. The sound of bike chains were heard behind you as Eddie gave you a generous douse of water. The clothes clung to your skin. Wiping the water from your eyes you turned to see the new visitors.

“Woah, didn’t know we had tickets to the gun show,” Lucas whistled. You let out a snort, snagging your shoes and socks from the ground, waving to Mike, Dustin, and Will on your way across the street.

“Thanks, Ed,” you called over your shoulder.

“Anytime.” Walking around to the back you took down a towel from the clothes line. Patting yourself down to get some of the water off. Then grabbing another one to wipe down the floors later. Approaching the deck you walked up the steps and noted the blinds were down. It didn’t raise your suspicion till you tried to open the slide screen door. It didn’t budge.

A little odd for the fact Max knew you were coming over when you called her around two. She said she would leave the it unlocked.

You tapped a finger on the window. Waiting for a response, your brows furrowed when you didn’t get one. Trying once again you still got nothing. Going down the stairs you shoved a hand into your pocket. Pulling out a couple keys and fishing through them. Finding the one marked with an M and clung to it.

You entered the front again. Glancing at the boys who were now soaked head to toe. Dustin had a pretty epic beard going on with the bubbly soap.

“Back so soon?” Mike called in your direction. His own body was covered in suds. Waving a hand in dismissal you went up to the front door. Knocking once more just in case.

“Max?” you yelled, knocking a little louder. The boys watched you with expressions of light confusion on their faces. You let out a huff of frustration before deciding to just unlock the door yourself, worry slowly building in your veins. Once the door was free you went to call again but stopped short, body freezing up.

The sight of Susan passed out on the couch, a hand falling near to the floor. However the line of vision from her hand led to a rolled away glass bottle of Jack Daniels and next to it was an unmoving Max. Your eyes widened and your body lurched into action. You fell to your knees, carefully maneuvering Max to face you. A visible red mark that was slowly turning into a jumbled mess of colors laid on her forehead. Tapping her cheek lightly you tried to receive some sort of response.

“Max, Max. Hey, c’mon.” Your hand moved to her neck. Checking for a pulse. As the throb of her heart met your fingertips an incoherent mumble passed her lips. A relieved sigh passed your lips. “Max, can you hear me?” A groan filled the quiet living space. You waited anxiously for to come to her senses. Slowly her cloudy eyes appeared behind their lids. Her hand slowly went to your cheek. Her thumb crossed your cheekbone.

“Y-Y/n?” She went to sit up but you carefully ushered her back down.

“It’s me. Just slow down for a sec. Let me-” You looked around the room before snagging a fallen pillow. You carefully pulled up her head and slid it under it. Once settled on the cushion, she moved a hand to the now prominent bruise. Wincing as she touched. You scanned her body, checking if there were any other marks. Not seeing anything major you went back to her face. Cupping her cheek lightly examining the injury.

“I don’t know what happened,” she spoke in a hushed voice. Placing her hand over yours. “I just remember you called. And I went to unlock the back but then... I-I must have slipped on something.” Your body went still. The realization of it all sinking in. You looked at the empty glass bottle, following the trail to the unconscious mother of year sprawled out across the couch. Without thinking you stood. Max’s hand clung to your briefly. “Where are you doing?” You didn’t answer as she called your name. Gabbing the pillow that Susan was currently drooling on you ranked it from under her. She jolted awake when her head hit the hard arm of the couch. A groan left her as she cradled her head.

“What the hell?” she mumbled, looking up at you with furrowed brows. Before looking down again as the sun’s rays beamed into her eyes. Her headache multiplied. “What are you-” You crouched down to her level, hands on your knees.

“It’s not fun hitting your head is it?” you questioned in a sarcastic tone. Still not fully coherent, she scanned the room in confusion. Eyes landing on Max who was slowly sitting up. The bump present as day. Susan went to call out to her in concern but you stopped her. “Maybe if you weren’t so wasted off your ass you’d realize your own daughter was passed out on the floor.” Susan's face scrunched up.

“Are you blaming this on me?” she asked in a rather offended voice. You scoffed.

“For the fact that there's just a convenient empty bottle of Jack just lying on the floor and you smell worse than the pub two blocks down? Yeah you just might have to take the blame,” you stated, pushing her to get up. She scrambled around, trying to gain traction on her feet while you practically hauled her to the door.

“What are you doing?” she all but yelled.

“Maybe this will give you a reality check to be an actual mom.” You pulled her out of the house, shoving her to the ground. She once again winced when she rounghy hit the soil. “I’ll let you back in when you’ll be some actual help.”

“This is my home. You can’t just kick me out of it.”

“I actually can and did.�� You gave her a tight lipped smile before slamming the door and locking it. Huffing out a sigh you turned around to face Max. Only to meet with the sight of her wobbling to her feet. “Hey, stop,” you commanded gently, reaching her side. You took her arm and placed it over your shoulder then took yours under her knees and shoulders.

“What the hell just happened?” she questioned. She felt your shrug.

“I took out the trash.” Max’s brows furrowed.

“Did you just call my mom trash?” A soft chuckle passed her lips when you hummed in response, nudging her door open in the process. You placed her carefully on the mattress, laying her head on a pillow gently. You brushed a couple of stray hairs behind her ear. Frowning at the sight of her now purple mark.

“She needs to realize she needs to take care of you when you need it. And not be passed out almost daily from drinking. That should just be common sense but apparently not.” She bit her lip anxiously.

“I don’t need to be taken care of. I’m not some helpless little girl, y’know.” You hummed once more.

“I know but with everything that’s happened. You need a shoulder for support. It’s not the same anymore, Max. It’s alright to admit that you need help cause you do need it. That doesn’t mean you're weak. It means that you yourself know what your limits are and are strong enough to know when you need a little boost.” You sighed when you didn’t get a response. Stretching to your full height. “I’m gonna find an ice pack,” you murmured. You exited the room, turning to the kitchen and moving to open the freezer. Once getting the goods you headed back. Snagging a rag from a cabinet and wrapping the ice pack with it. You sat on the side of the bed, placing the object onto her lightly. She hissed through her teeth. Silence settled over the two of you.

“I know I need help,” she spoke softly. “It just sucks feeling helpless all the time and knowing I can’t do anything about it. I never thought that one day everything I ever cared for I would never be able to see again. I can’t see the sun or the stars. I can’t see you or the party or Steve's stupid hair. All I can see and will know for the rest of my life is fog. An endless void of fog.”

“You’re not helpless Max. You went through hell and back to get where you are now. I know it sucks losing your best key part to navigate, but I promise the people around you that care and are so happy that you are still here would be more than happy to help lead you through that fog.” You took her hand in your empty one. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Thanks, Y/n.”

“Anytime, honey.” Silence once again swept over you before she broke it again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ofcourse,” you responded. A light smile grew on her face.

“Why are you wet? I noticed it when you picked me up. You're almost soaked.” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Eddie gave me a hose down.”

“Eddie gave you a hoe down?”

“No! A hose down!”

“Jeez, I was about to say…”

#stranger things x reader #max mayfield x you #max mayfield x y/n #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield x yn #max mayfield imagine #max mayfield

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la-undercover-latina · 2 years

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Amber & Andy Meeting

Summary: After scoping out the lineup for the 2011 Warped Tour will there be a second year of Slutty Summer or will Amber hang up her title?

January 2011

“Alright, I’ve got the wine coolers and booze for our research,” Amber smiled, holding up her purchase.

The email had just come through of all the bands that would be touring this year for Warped Tour. The two founding members of White Rabbit got together to go through the lineup. They’d have to be surrounded by these people for the entire summer, so they wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be miserable.

“You sure the Slutty Summer won’t bite you in the ass?” Ella asked as they got set up in the loft at the Sixx house that Taylor and Nikki allow the girls to use for White Rabbit business.

“We should be all good. They were all drunk one night stands, mostly,” Amber shrugged

“Yeah besides Chris,” Ella agreed.

“But that was a friends with benefits situation, so we should be all good. Hell, probably see if he wants it again,” Amber smirked. The frontman knew exactly what he was doing with her.

“Alright, well let’s get started,” Ella tried to get her cousin back on track.

“You’re right. I’ll get the email pulled up,” All of the women had access to the band’s email, but Ella and Amber were the only ones that really dealt with all of this.

Between Ella and Amber, Ella was the one that did the most regarding White Rabbit. White Rabbit was Ella Sixx’s baby.

“Alright so it seems like most of the same lineup from last year is showing up. But there are a few new additions,” Amber spoke, her eyes combing through the lineup.

“Alright let’s go through the new bands,” Ella told her.

“Lemme pull up Youtube,” Ella told her, loading up Youtube on the smart TV in the loft.

“Alright first off, Black Veil Brides,” Amber spoke once she saw that Ella got YouTube pulled up.

“I think I’ve heard of these guys,” Ella mumbled as she typed the name in.

“Yeah I think some fans were talking about them when we did our last Hot Topic signing,” Amber conceded and put her laptop next to her on the couch, her eyes moving to the tv as Ella pulled up the first music video.

“Perfect Weapon, huh?” Ella mumbled. Almost a minute into the video, the lead singer started screaming and Amber’s lips pulled up into a smirk.

“Have you found your Summer Toy?” Ella asked teasingly, seeing the look in her older cousin’s hazel eyes.

“Maybe. He’s hot. Let’s watch one more after this,” Amber smiled at Ella, who rolled her eyes.

“How’s your research going?” Taylor asked, coming into the loft to check on the girls.

“Good. I think we found Amber’s newest victim for this summer,” Ella teased and shoved Amber.

“Already? I thought she was just gonna have Chris again,” Taylor teased her niece that she also regarded as a second daughter.

“To be fair, the guy is pretty hot. I’d let him bend me over if I was 20 years younger and not married to your dad,” Taylor told Ella, who covered her ears.

“MOM! AH-AH-AH,” Ella covered her ears and Amber laughed in victory.

“It’s the truth Ella, you’re just gonna have to face it,” Taylor shrugged, snagging one of the wine coolers.

“Who’s bending you over Bunny?” Nikki asked, popping his head around the wall leading to the loft.

“You later, rockstar!” Taylor yelled back with a smirk, making Ella and Amber dry heave.

“MOM!” Ella screeched.

“AUNT TAYLOR!” Amber yelled.

Taylor rolled her eyes before leaving the girls to their work.

“Alright, back to business now that we’re adequately scarred, we should go to one of their shows before Warped Tour starts. They can sound as good as they want in the studio, but that doesn’t mean they sound good live,” Amber spoke and Ella looked into when their next show was.

“We’re in luck. They’ve got a show in town next week,”

“Where at?”

“The Whiskey,” Ella told her and Amber had to do a double take.

“Shit, I’ll call Tony and see if we can get some tickets,” Amber told her and grabbed her phone, messaging the promoter at The Whiskey.

The Whiskey was where White Rabbit, like Motley, played their first show, and the women have been pretty good friends with the people at The Whiskey since they were young.

A week later, the girls were standing outside the Whiskey for Black Veil Brides’ LA show.

“Ella, Amber! What’s up?” Adam, one of the long-time bouncers smiled at the girls. He may be in his early fourties, but he can still fuck someone up.

“Hey Adam! We’re here for the show tonight,” Ella told him and he let the two in, and the girls headed towards the bar.

The girls found a couple spots at the bar to get drinks in them before the show.

Meanwhile, someone already picked them out, and made his way to the bar while his bandmates got ready for their show.

“Hey, what are you guys drinking?” Ashley asked, licking his lips as the girls turned around.

“Jack is usually pretty good,” Amber answered. Just because she thought the lead singer was hot didn’t mean that she wouldn’t try her hand at a bassist. From what she’s heard from her aunt Taylor, bassists did it deeper.

“Now why would you gorgeous girls pay for booze? We’ve got a bunch of free booze backstage,” Ashley smirked, thinking that he won, not realizing that he was sorely outmatched.

“But we can’t get free booze,” Amber played along, letting him think he had control in the situation.

There was nothing like having a man think they were in control just for a woman to snatch it back at the last second and then it becomes obvious that she had control the whole time. Amber traced her fingertip over his forearms, flipping her hair and Ella took her shot.

“I’m sure we can come up with ways for you to pay me back darling,” Ashley’s voice was like honey, but Amber still had Ashley in her clutches.

----- Backstage -----

“Dude, we’ll be fine,” Jake tried to reassure the pacing anxious frontman.

“Not if his hall pass comes walking in the door,” CC remarked, twirling his drumstick. Jake elbowed him.

“Not helping!” Jake hissed.

“I mean what are the chances though. I’m pretty sure they’re on a break. She’s probably sipping mimosas in Mexico or something,” Andy tried to reason himself out of the anxious cycle.

“Dude, go splash some water on your face and calm down. You being anxious is doing nothing but making you more on edge,” Jinxx reasoned, finally looking up from his guitar.

“I guess so,” Andy stood up and walked to the bathroom. Thankfully he hadn’t started the stage makeup quite yet.

Seconds later, Ashley walked backstage with Amber and Ella. Jake nearly choked on his water.

“No fucking way,” Jinxx mumbled under his breath.

Jake and Jinxx pulled Ashley to the side while the women got comfy on the couch and CC’s eyes bugged out when he saw the fellow drummer and bassist sitting next to him.

“Damn, how much did I drink?” CC laughed and Amber reached for the bottle of Jack.

“Don’t worry drummer, you’re not hallucinating,” Amber winked before chugging the whiskey.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Jinxx asked as he saw the woman that caused Andy such anxiety sitting on their couch.

“What? I’m just letting loose,”

“Dude, don’t. You know exactly who that is and what she means,” Jake hissed, keeping his voice low so the women didn’t hear the confrontation.

“Well, I’m a grown ass man and I’m going to have as much fun as I want,” Ashley smiled before shoving past the two guitarists and walking towards Amber, reaching a hand out for her.

“Hey baby girl, you wanna go somewhere more private?’ Ashley purred in her ear, and Amber stood up.

“Lead the way,” She told him, and anger flared up in all of the other members. They all knew how big Andy’s crush was, and that if Ashley went through with this, And would end up kicking his ass.

“Why aren’t we stopping him?” CC asked lowly, walking up to the guitarists.

“Not yet. If we cock block too soon, it won’t do much,”

“Don’t let her,” A faint Cockney voice whispered in Ella’s head and she blinked, looking at the booze she didn’t have more than a shot of. All it took were those three words to get her to her feet.

“We’ve gotta stop this,” Ella spoke, walking towards the men.

“Alright, now,” Jake told them and Ella walked with CC to the door where they could hear slow and sensual music playing. The pair knocked on the door. When nobody answered after a few seconds, Ella knocked again, this time calling through the door.

“Pipsqueak, code Razzle,” Once the words registered in the drummer’s ears, she stood up, buttoning back up her shirt and grabbing her jacket from the couch.

“C’mon darling. We were just starting to have fun,” Ashley pouted playfully before reaching out for the drummer.

“My cousin needs me. It’s important.” Amber walked out, shutting the door behind her to see CC and Ella standing there. Amber allowed herself to be pulled to the lounge area.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“Andy has a major crush on you. Plus, code Razzle,” She told her and CC raised an eyebrow at the code.

A bone chilling feeling went down the drummer’s spine. She hadn’t heard or seen Razzle in years and the only time he makes any sort of appearance is if the kids needed him or were about to make a grave mistake.

The cousins sat down on the couch, grabbing the booze from the table and starting to drink again. Ella knew she couldn’t let Amber near Ashley. Especially if Razzle showed up.

“Hey guys, I think I’m chilled out now. Thank god Motley made it common for them to keep booze everywhere,” Andy laughed, looking at his phone as he came into the lounge.

“Glad to know. I’ll let my dad and uncles know their legacy is still alive,” Amber gave a wide smile and Andy’s eyes shot up from his phone.

“Okay, did one of you assholes slip me something?” Andy laughed nervously. His earlier anxiety spiking again.

“Nah, I’m real. Come touch me and see for yourself rockstar,” Amber winked and scooched a little over to give the frontman room to sit. Andy gulped but walked over towards the woman he fantasized about since he was a teenager.

Sitting next to her, he grabbed another bottle of Jack.

Taglist:

@youlightmeupfinn

@kata1803

@buckysimp101

@hallecarey1

@midsummereve1993

#andy biersack #amber lee #ella sixx #Taylor Sixx #nikki sixx #Tommy Lee #ashley purdy #jinxx #jake pitts #cc #christian coma #black veil brides #andy black #andy bvb #black veil brides imagine #ocs

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theswarmanthology · 2 years

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Myrthe, 21, The Netherlands

Fast Facts: How long have you been a fan?: 5-8 years Did you get to see MCR live before this tour?: No, this tour was my first time seeing MCR How many shows on this tour did you attend in total?: 1 Favorite album: Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge Show experience out of 10: 10 Did you cry at your show?: No

Which date of the tour did you attend? 06/02/22, Ahoy, Rotterdam, Netherlands

When did you get your tickets for your show? Was it a struggle, or were they easy to grab? I actually got tickets for the show in Bologna, Italy first, since they hadn’t announced any in the Netherlands the first time around. So I figured, if I’m gonna have to travel anyway I should just plan a vacation and go to Italy for a week even though the Germany shows are closer. I had an entire trip planned including plane tickets, a hotel and some small excursions to Rome and Florence. Obviously the pandemic started a few months later and that all went out the window. I was very sad my show and trip got canceled/postponed and cried a lot. The show got moved by two years, and a month (from July to June I think) and I couldn’t make it to Italy at the new date anymore. But then they suddenly announced new Europe dates including one in Rotterdam so I could go! Getting the tickets for that was pretty easy and I was so excited when I got my tickets!

Did you attend with anyone else? With my dad

What did you wear? Black jeans, a black sleeveless t-shirt and black canvas shoes (boots? Not sure if they count as boots or sneakers or whatever)

Where were your seats? Pit, center stage!

What was your favorite song(s) from the setlist they played at your show? It’s not a fashion statement it’s a deathwish!!

What song were you most hoping to hear? Did you get to hear it? I love their entire discography so I was happy for them to play anything! Some of my favorites they didn’t play were sharpest lives, desert song and heaven help us but they did play sleep, deathwish, skylines and give em hell and many other songs I love!

What was your favorite moment from the show? I don’t have a specific moment, more something that was spread out across the entire show: I loved hearing the entire crowd sing along to the songs and singing with everyone. It felt magical. Especially during Mama and Famous Last Words, it’s incredible to hear everyone. Also seeing Welcome To The Black Parade was amazing because it’s such a classic. Really felt like, ‘wow, shit, that’s actually My Chemical Romance up there. They’re real!’

What was the most unexpected moment from the show? The thing that felt the most unexpected should really have been the most obvious thing actually: the start of the show and the band actually walking on stage and starting to play. I guess I was still very nervous they would cancel last minute, and the static before the show seemed to last an eternity and it didn’t feel real. And suddenly they were actually right there, and it felt like a huge surprise.

Did you snag any merch? What pieces? Yeah! I got the haunted castle Newark NJ shirt and the black swarm one with the yellow/green fly

Many fans describe seeing MCR live as feeling like coming home. Did you experience anything like that at your show? Yeah! It’s one thing I don’t really have words for but it definitely felt like magic, coming home and the best night of my life. It’s just that those words don’t even begin to cover the experience.

Thanks, Myrthe! They can be found on Tumblr at @extinctioninthemorningrays.

#story #06/02/22 #mcr rotterdam

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dailytomlinson · 3 years

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There’s something to be said about artists that grow up with us. For many, spending over a year in isolation brings up nostalgia for simpler times. It may bring memories of being a zit-faced pre-teen jamming out to “What Makes You Beautiful” in the back of a minivan, times when one’s biggest worry would be whether they’d end up with Zayn or Harry when playing MASH at sleepovers.

Although many former Directioners’ music taste has certainly evolved since 2010, 2020 was the perfect opportunity to revisit childhood obsessions. Luckily, Louis Tomlinson is providing a new virtual concert and an opportunity for fans to fall back in love.

For those unfamiliar with the British pop scene, Tomlinson started his music career on the X-Factor, was one-fourth of One Direction, has writing credits on 37 of the band’s tracks and garnered over a billion streams from his solo music.

“The Away From Home Festival,” Tomlinson’s brainchild, was held on Aug. 30, 2020 at the historic Crystal Palace Bowl in London. Over 8,500 lucky fans scored tickets to the completely free one-day event through an online prize-draw.

For those who didn’t snag tickets to the in-person event (or hop on a flight to London), Tomlinson will host a global streaming event on Sept. 4, featuring a mini-documentary, 70-minute full concert and backstage footage from the festival.

For all live-music junkies, the pandemic has been a sad, lonely drought from a favorite pastime, a void that’s been filled, to an extent, with new music releases and concert live streams.

The Away from Home global event isn’t Tomlinson’s first rodeo with pandemic streaming. The British singer-songwriter sold over 160,000 tickets to his concert live stream in December 2020, making it one of the biggest concert live stream events that year.

Monday marked the artist’s first time performing in front of a live audience in 18 months, after his sold-out world tour was postponed in 2020. According to a statement released by Simon Jones PR, the festival was held in celebration of the return of live music this summer.

“I’ve been sat on this idea for the last 12 months at least, and now to see it come to life makes me very excited,” said Tomlinson. “Personally, playing live shows is the best part of what I do, and it’s been far too long since I’ve seen my fans, so I wanted to put this festival on to say thank you for all the support and celebrate the return of live music. I’ve got a really good feeling it’s going to be a really special night. We all deserve that!”

For those who would like to tune in, tickets for the global streaming event are available for purchase at https://smarturl.it/awayfromhome.

#umkc roo #press #afhf21 #louis tomlinson #310821

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

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Helplessly, Hopelessly

Cutting it a little close to the deadline, but here’s my entry for @levihan-drabbles Angst Monday! My prompt was: Levi and Hange are in an established long distance relationship, Levi surprises Hange by showing up right before midnight on New Year's Eve.

Once again, I got a little carried away :’) it’s not my favourite thing I’ve written this week but it’s done ahaha, please enjoy! And a HUGE thank you to the mods for running this whole thing, it’s been a lot of fun actually writing again.

Warnings: mentions of cheating (but I’m a big ol’ levihan sucker so worry not), body weight, anxiety/depression

It took him three attempts to knock. He even considered turning back and trying to change his flight, to head home and pretend this never happened, to live in blissful, agonising ignorance over Hange’s sudden, disinterested quiet. It was shameful, that he’d rather keep Hange ostensibly his than face any outcome where he lost them.

Levi hadn’t intended on turning up quite so last minute.

His flight was supposed to land at noon, which would have given him ample time to make his way over to Hange’s part of the city. But the weather had not been in his favour—his first flight had been delayed due to intermittent snowstorms, the chill air so thick with snow, Levi could barely see his own hand in front of his face. In consequence, he had missed his connecting flight by well over an hour, and spent the majority of his evening sitting on the floor in the overcrowded airport, surrounded by his bags, sipping piss-water tea and waiting for the next available flight taking off to London.

It had been almost eight months since he had last seen Hange in person, and even then, they hadn’t spent nearly enough time together. Hange had returned home only briefly to attend their grandmother's funeral. Levi had seen them at the service, and they’d snagged a few hours together between family engagements and the regular study periods Hange had set aside for themself during their stay, but it felt rushed, lacking. Hange had seemed flustered, then. They had confessed that their studies were proving a lot more demanding than they had initially anticipated, that they were tired. That they were beginning to feel a little burnt out, but they had no time to take any substantial break without getting too far behind to catch up again.

Levi missed them. He and Hange had, from early in their childhood up until Hange left for university, spent almost every waking second in one another's company. It was impossible to recall a time when they weren’t together, excluding a handful of miserable periods during which Hange’s family had whisked them away on some holiday or other while Levi sat in his mothers tea shop and made himself as useful as any child could.

They had grown together, through school, through their awkward, angsty teenage phases, through Hange’s stuttering realisation that gender and sexuality were incredibly confusing things, and they had no idea where they stood on either spectrum. They had tried alcohol together for the first time, tried holding hands, tried kissing and fumbling with clumsy, nervous, eager hands in Hange’s old treehouse, a touch too small for two grown teenagers, but just big enough.

They had been each other's first partners, in every sense of the term. The progression, Levi remembers, had felt equal parts strange and yet completely natural. Expected. He and Hange fell into step with the same absent simplicity as breathing; it took little thought and even less effort, to love Hange as more than a friend.

And then, Hange left for university, and Levi stayed behind to help his mother with the shop. And things had still been easy, in a way. Hange was only a phone call away, and they made sure to call or text at least once a day, even if they only had the time to spare for a quick good morning or good night or did you shower? I can smell you from here or I love you, too.

It was okay. Not ideal, but manageable. But in the last few months, Hange’s texts had grown infrequent. They were busy, they’d told him. Too many deadlines, not enough time. They would get back to him when they could.

They never did.

It was always up to Levi to reach out, and Hange, to their credit, was always incredibly apologetic about the time elapsing between points of contact—I completely forgot, Levi! I’m so sorry. Now isn’t a good time though, I promise I’ll call you back when I get a minute?

Levi had tried to reason that they probably were busy. But there were terrible, guilty, nagging doubts, and they had only grown more as time went on, as Hange’s texts and calls dribbled down to almost nothing.

It wasn’t that Levi didn’t trust Hange. He did, implicitly so. But they are young. A young couple from a small town, where a handful of kids their age are all they’ve ever known. And suddenly Hange was living in the big city, surrounded by like minded people—people who were astronomically smart, academically driven, who shared Hange’s interests. Who could do more than just listen while they chatted endlessly about plants or bugs or the vastness of the ocean, the movement of the Earth’s crust, the stars, the atmosphere in outer space, anything and everything that caught their interest. Levi had never been able to keep up, could only lend an ear and let Hange ramble until they were spent.

But they would meet people now, who could match them word for word and raise them facts they’d never even heard before. People Hange could have discussions with, debates with. People who could engage with Hange in a way Levi could never even hope to. The thought of it made his stomach hurt, and it crossed his mind too often, a guilty little echo in the back of his head every time Hange was too busy to talk to him. Every time his texts went unanswered.

And so, he had dipped into his savings and, with a little help from his mother, had bought a ticket to surprise Hange with a visit on New Years Eve. His mother assured him it was a sweet idea—romantic, she’d said, which had made Levi flush and scowl—but in truth, Levi had only decided on surprising Hange with the visit in fear that they wouldn’t want him to come, if he told them he planned on it.

Now, he was stuck navigating an endless network of underground trains, staring hopelessly at the maps on his phone and trying to figure out which line he needed to be on to make his way out to Hange’s apartment. It was already 11pm. Levi felt drained, his back and shoulders aching from carrying his luggage. The weather was cold and wet, the streets lined with slush that splashed up his legs and soaked into his shoes as he walked, and by the time he made it to what he hoped was Hange’s apartment building, an icy rain had started to fall, soaking into his pants and running in great rivulets from his coat.

He paused at the entrance. There was no keypad on the door, no way to buzz up to Hange’s room to get them to let him inside. He could ring them, but it had been weeks since Hange had answered his calls. Levi groaned, huddling under the small canopy above the door. It offered little shelter from the rain, and no barrier at all to the biting chill of the wind.

Levi had resolved to at least trying to call Hange when, by a stroke of luck he hadn’t thought possible today, the door opened, and three rather drunk and incredibly underdressed people tumbled out. They apologised to him as they stumbled by, but had the decency—or else the stupidity, Levi thought—to hold the door open for him. He thanked them quietly and slipped inside.

Hange’s apartment was on the third floor. Levi took the lift, which clattered ominously as it crawled four stories before shuddering to a stop. Levi’s stomach churned as he stepped out into the quiet hallway. There was a bubble of excitement, a thrill at the prospect of seeing Hange again after such a long time, but more than that, he felt nervous. He had no back up plan if Hange couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accommodate him. He wasn’t sure he had the money for a hotel even for a night or two, and he had optimistically booked his return flight for seven days’ time. If Hange had really changed their mind about him, about them, he had no idea what he would do.

Marking this off as one of his worst ideas to date, he dragged his luggage down the hall until he found apartment 3C.

But he was here now. He had made his bed, and he would lie in it, whatever the outcome turned out to be. He rapped three times on the door, and waited.

And waited. And waited.

His mind wandered back to the party-goers he had passed in the doorway. It was New Year's Eve, and Hange was in university. It hadn’t crossed his mind that they might have plans, since he and Hange had always spent the night together, before now. But Hange couldn’t have anticipated Levi’s appearance; it would make sense, if they had taken one night off to enjoy themselves. Pass the occasion away with friends. With someone special, even. Someone who wasn’t him. Levi’s gut turned unpleasantly at the thought.

Lost in his musings, Levi almost missed the door opening. He blinked dazedly, took in the figure in the doorway, and his stomach dropped.

There was a man standing there. Taller than Levi, with a mop of light hair and a sweet, open face, wearing a somewhat rumpled, baggy shirt and a pair of threadbare sweatpants. He took in Levi’s appearance with a startled expression. Levi swallowed hard, mouth dry, tongue thick behind his teeth.

“I’m looking for Hange,” he said. Cleared his throat. “Are they home?”

The man jumped at the sound of Levi’s voice. He rallied himself well enough, then nodded, and turned to call over his shoulder, “Hange? There’s someone at the door for you.”

Levi mumbled his thanks. He felt lightheaded, heart thudding in his chest. For a moment he and the strange man simply looked at each other, until he heard a familiar voice from inside saying, “Moblit? If it’s Nanaba, tell her to go away. I already said I’m not going.”

“Not Nanaba,” Moblit called back. Levi heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then Moblit stepped aside, and he was face to face with Hange.

It seemed to take them a second to register who he was. Their tired eyes landed on him, bloodshot and bruised purple behind their glasses. Levi watched slowly as realisation dawned on them. Their eyes grew wide, lips—dry, cracked—parted in surprise, and their skin, already sickly looking, paled further. Levi’s gaze darted to Moblit over their shoulder and back again. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words would come. Blood pounded in his ears.

He never should have come. He had thought he was prepared for any eventuality, ready to accept that Hange might have found some happiness in somebody else. Ready to let them go. It would be painful, he knew; it’d suck, more than anything. But he had thought he was ready for that.

In front of Hange now, staring the prospect in the face, Levi realised he was terribly mistaken. He could not have anticipated how sick he would feel, how dizzy; his chest felt heavy, full and leaden and yet hollow all the same. The most painful kind of emptiness. He looked at Hange and tried to find something to say, but his mind was blank. He could think of nothing but Hange, and the man still standing a little way behind them, watching curiously out of the corner of his eye.

The silence was long, and dreadful. Neither Levi nor Hange spoke. Levi, for his part, couldn’t find words to say, and wouldn’t have been able to push them past the lump in his throat either way. Hange had tears welling in their eyes. They built up thick and heavy on their lash line, swimming in the light from the hallway, before spilling down their cheeks.

A terrible, bitter part of him thought that Hange had no right to cry.

And then, without any warning at all, hange launched themselves at him. Their weight hit him full in the chest, their arms winding around his back and squeezing tightly, punching the air from his lungs. Their face pressed into the side of Levi’s neck and he could feel wetness on his skin, an endless flow of tears as something wretched and agonising ripped from their throat; a sob, the heavy, desperate kind that bursts up from the gut and hacks out like a terrible cough. Again, and again, Hange sobbed, sucking jumpy, shaking breaths and crying them out again.

Instinctively, Levi’s arms came up around Hange, too. One hand carded into their hair—it felt limp and greasy and knotted between his fingers—and the other flattened against their back. Something twisted in his gut. Hange felt thin. Too thin. He could trace the knots of their spine and the ridges and valleys of their rib cage; their skin pulled taut over their shoulder blades; their hip bones dug into him where Hange had pressed themself impossibly close.

Levi’s pain was replaced abruptly by concern. He held Hange a little tighter, but they felt breakable in his arms now. Fragile. Hange had never felt so small before.

Moblit’s voice broke Levi out of his stupor. He had a kind smile on his face, though his eyes held the same worry Levi felt.

“Maybe you should come inside?” He suggested. Hange sniffled against Levi’s neck. They took a few big, gulping breaths to steady themself, pulling away, though still remaining close. Levi watched as Hange pulled the sleeve of their jumper over their hand and rubbed at their cheeks, at their eyes. Something in his chest ballooned, pressing hard against his ribs, his throat. Hange looked a complete mess. Levi felt concerned, and confused. Even still, looking at Hange now, he felt terribly certain of one thing: he loved them. Helplessly, hopelessly, he loved them.

He let Hange step out of his grip slowly. His hands lingered, slipping around their waist and down their arm, but before he could move too far away, Hange closed their fingers tight around his. Levi stared at their knotted hands, then at Hange, and wordlessly let them drag him inside.

Belatedly, Levi remembered he was drenched. He could see wet patches on Hange’s jumper where they had been pressed against him, and the chill of his wet clothes seemed to sink into his bones as he crossed over the entryway. They passed Moblit, who watched them with some intrigue, then wandered out into the hallway only to return with Levi’s luggage in tow.

Hange’s apartment was open plan, the kitchen separated from the sitting room only by a countertop. It was small, and cosy, cluttered in the way Hange’s spaces always tended to be. They kept plants on every available surface, but Levi could see that some were in desperate need of tending, with dry, shrivelling leaves and sagging stems. That wasn’t like Hange at all.

By the sofas, Hange stopped him.

“Give me your coat,” they said. Their voice still sounded thick and choked, and they sniffled pitifully, but they were no longer crying. Levi obliged them in a daze. Hange took his dripping coat and tossed it, uncaring, over one of the stools by the counter. Moblit quietly collected it and hung it on a hook on the back of the door.

“What are you even doing here?” Hange asked, sitting down and pulling on Levi’s sleeve until he dropped down beside them. “How did you get here? When?”

Levi’s eyes roved over Hange’s face. He couldn’t figure out how they felt. It was an uncomfortable realisation—Hange had always been an open book to him, easy to parse no matter what they were feeling. Now, they seemed...reserved. Subdued. Not the Hange he was used to.

“I had some savings,” Levi said slowly. He cleared his throat, debated on what level of honesty he was going to reply with, before saying, “I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t up and died on me.”

At that, Hange’s expression grew somber. They grimaced, and Levi watched fresh tears well in their eyes. He reached for their hand without thought, and Hange gripped on tightly. Levi let his thumb brush lazily back and forth over their knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Hange said. “I’m really sorry. I just—things have been—I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Hange rubbed a hand tiredly over their face, then let their head drop onto his shoulder. They felt warm, a welcome weight against him. Levi let his cheek rest against their head, felt the tickle of their hair against his skin. Hange pressed closer, and Levi turned to nudge a kiss to their hairline.

The sound a stool scraping the floor turned Levi’s attention to Moblit. Levi shot him a look that was probably a little more murderous than intended, but fought to relax his frown at Moblit’s wide-eyed expression. Moblit scratched a little awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“Would you--ah, would you like a drink of anything?”

“Tea,” Hange mumbled. “He likes tea. There’s early grey in the cupboard, I think.”

Moblit nodded, and turned quickly into the kitchen. Hange adjusted their grip on Levi’s hand, until they were palm to palm, fingers slotted loosely together. Levi could feel them taking long, measured breaths.

“I’m really sorry,” they said again. Levi half wanted to tell them to stop apologising, but—well, until he knew for certain what they were apologising for, he couldn't be sure if they really needed to say it. “I know I’ve been a little...distant, lately. I’m sorry. I kept—I wanted to get back to you, I promise I did. I wanted to talk to you more than anything, but everything is just—God, Levi. Everything is going wrong.”

Levi gave a quiet, questioning hum. He knew Hange; there was no need for him to prompt them. If Hange had something to say, they would say it whether he probed or not. He waited, and eventually, Hange let out a distressed little sound and turned their face fully into his neck.

“Everything’s...so much harder than I thought it would be. There’s so much work to do, all the time. I’m struggling to meet all the deadlines. I keep failing my tests. I’m so tired, Levi. I just want a break, but there’s no time.”

Levi unthreaded his fingers from theirs and looped his arm around their back instead. He ran his fingers lightly up and down Hange’s spine, settled his face into their hair.

This side of Hange wasn’t wholly new to him. He had seen Hange upset and overwhelmed a handful of times before, but it hurt all the same—and more still, when he considered the fact that Hange had been feeling like this for who knows how long, without him even being aware.

“You can tell me shit like this,” he said. Hange flinched a little.

“I know,” they said quietly. “I know I can. But I...you’re so far away. And I knew you’d want to help, if I told you, but travelling this far isn’t—I couldn’t ask that of you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Levi knocked his knuckles gently to Hange’s head. “Stupid. Look how that turned out.”

Hange let out a wet laugh. “Yeah, it kinda backfired, huh? Or did it? Maybe it was a ploy to get you to come out here all along.”

Hange sounded tired. Drained. The joke was weak and hollow without the right injection of humour, but Hange, it seemed, didn’t even have the energy to pretend to sound amused. Levi gave a scoff of a laugh anyway.

“Congratulations,” he said, deadpan. “You got me.”

The conversation fell flat. He was so used to having Hange talk his ear off that the quiet between them felt awkward, stifling. Hange only breathed, long, measured breaths, while Levi held them loosely against him. Moblit pottered around in the kitchen. While Levi felt mostly certain that things between them, at least, were okay, he was still curious about Moblit’s presence—but it felt like the wrong time to ask.

As if they could read his mind, though, Hange said, “Moblit’s been helping me study for the catch-up exams.”

“Oh?”

Hange hummed. “He’s good. I think I’ll give him an aneurysm one day, though.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Oi,” Hange grumbled, digging their fingers weakly into his sides. Moblit chose that moment to come into the sitting room juggling three cups of tea. He looked a little apologetic as he handed one over to Levi, who took it with a mumbled thanks.

“I’ve been telling Hange they should speak to you,” he said. Hange made a quiet, affronted noise, lifting their head and sitting up straight to take the tea Moblit offered them. “I thought it might help if they had someone to actually talk to. I can help out with the academic stuff, but the rest…” he trailed away, and Levi caught his gaze flitting to Hange’s thin frame, then back up to Levi’s face.

“Moblit, you’re a whole traitor,” Hange said.

In unison, Levi and Moblit rolled their eyes. Hange had settled their weight against Levi’s side again, feet tucked up on the sofa next to them, and was busy glaring at Moblit over their steaming tea cup. Levi laid his hand on Hange’s knee and gave it a small squeeze.

“I like him,” Levi said. “He’s got good ideas. You should listen to him more, Hange.”

Moblit looked pleased with himself, though there was nothing smug about it. He seemed like the kind, earnest type—pair that with his intellect, and Levi wasn’t surprised at all that Hange seemed fond of him. He felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, then considered their positions; Hange was nestled into his side, had cried on his shoulder, and was holding his hand. It was petty, but Levi took some small delight in it all the same.

Hange poked out their tongue at Moblit, who wasted no time in telling them he knew he had been right. Hange struggled to find a compelling argument against him, and resorted instead to more petulant, childish gestures. Moblit looked perfectly used to the behaviour and retaliated little, only reiterated his stance and pointed out rather happily that Levi agreed with him.

The atmosphere felt warm, calm. Hange seemed, for the moment at least, something close to content, with a soft smile that almost reached their eyes. Levi felt marginally more at ease than he had done prior to coming, though Hange's current state made him anxious—but at least he understood the problem, now. He could help in the coming days, and then continue to offer whatever support the distance would allow. He determined then that he wouldn't let Hange go silent on him, that they'd come to an agreement before he left, to ensure Hange would talk to him next time.

He listened as Moblit and Hange quietly bickered over their tea. Hange's usual energy was severely lacking, their tone less volatile. There was no indignant flush of colour to their cheeks and the shine in their eyes was dull, subdued. But they were no longer crying. No longer on the brink of breaking. Levi would take that, for now.

The three of them were startled suddenly by the loud crack and boom of fireworks outside. The sky lit up in vibrant colour, flashing and receding in tandem with each bang and pop and fizz that rent the air. For a moment, they all paused. Hange and Moblit turned to look out the window, while Levi—sappy, hopeless fool that he was, could only look at Hange. The light played across their pale face, glinting from their glasses, filling out the hollows of their cheeks and their sunken eyes until they looked almost whole again. Levi gave their hand a small squeeze. Hange's gaze remained glued to the sky, but they squeezed back just as hard.

Moblit was the first to speak, when the light show came to an end. He checked his watch, then looked up and smiled.

"Happy New Year."

Levi blinked. He had all but forgotten the day and the time, too wrapped up in his concern for Hange. He turned to look at them, and found Hange watching him already. Now, they had some colour—a light blush of pink on the apple of each cheek. Levi's heart stuttered in his chest. They'd been together for long enough, had years of sure kisses and even more stray ones, and yet, every damn time, the prospect of kissing Hange made his palms sweat, his chest tighten with giddy, childish excitement.

“Another year without breaking tradition,” Hange said, a little breathlessly. Levi felt gratified to know that Hange seemed just as affected as he did. “You made it right on time.”

Hange kissed him as softly as ever. Levi's hand braced on their narrow waist as he kissed them back. Hange melted against him, their lips rough and dry but pliant, opening easily to the gentle press of his tongue. It took a concentrated effort to remember himself, remember their company, to keep the kiss somewhat chaste; to stop himself nudging Hange to lay back on the sofa and cover their body with his own.

He pulled away reluctantly, entirely too pleased when Hange chased him a little way, stealing another quick kiss or two before leaning against the back of the sofa and looking at him. The flush on their face was more prominent, now. Levi quietly delighted in it.

Moblit sighed, almost wistfully, and gathered up their empty cups. Hange cooed quietly at him.

"Don't worry, Moblit," they said. "You'll get your turn soon. When does Nifa get back again?"

Moblit's face flamed. Levi had never seen someone colour so quickly, bright red from his neck to his hairline.

He stormed through to the kitchen, and choked out, "Next week, I think. And it's not like that, Hange."

"Not yet," Hange corrected. "We'll get you there."

Hange let out a great yawn. The little light of life in them, the small pleasure of teasing, snuffed out as they sat up straighter, spine crunching in several places as they did.

"We should get back to work," they said. They sounded dull again—Levi could hear the strain of stress in their tone. Moblit looked a little torn. Levi shook his head.

"It can wait," Levi said. "I've had a long, shitty day, and you," he pinched the skin of their cheek, tugging a little, "need sleep. You look like shit."

Hange's face twisted. Levi could see the anxiety building in them, churning. He cut them off before they could say anything more. "A few hours, four-eyes. You're not gonna remember shit when you're tired anyway."

"Levi's right, Hange," Moblit interjected. He looked tired, too. Levi felt a pang of sympathy for him—how many hours of sleep had he sacrificed trying to help Hange desperately prepare?

Levi tugged on their hand, pulling them in closer as he sunk back, reclining a little on the sofa.

"I'm tired," he said plainly. And then, embarrassed by the heat already flooding his cheeks, he added, "I've missed you. Just a few hours."

Levi was never blatantly vocal about his feelings. He considered himself very lucky that Hange knew him well, and could understand the intent behind his rude remarks. Right now, though, he felt desperate. And his honesty paid off.

Hange scrutinised him for a short moment, then said, "okay. But only a few hours."

"Deal."

"Just a nap."

"Fine."

Hange adjusted to tuck themself against his chest. They drew their knees up and curled into his side, dragging a throw from the back of the sofa and adjusting it to drape over them both. Moblit settled himself quietly on the other sofa.

Levi drew absent patterns over Hange's back with his fingertips. His touch bumped over their spine, bones even more pronounced with their back curled the way it was. How long had it been since they ate a proper meal? How regularly did they ingest something more substantial than a protein bar? He knew Hange was prone to fits of forgetfulness when they became too fixated on one task or another, easily bypassing meal times and leaving it too long between showers, but hunger always won out in the end. Hange had always been a little on the skinny side, but this, now; it scared him. They looked, and felt, unhealthy.

He dropped a harsh kiss to the top of their head. He wanted to say so many things, felt full with the weight of it all—I'm worried about you, you're scaring me, please look after yourself, I love you. Instead, he kissed them again, roughly, nuzzling his face into their hair, and hoped somehow they would understand.

Tomorrow, Levi will drag them for a shower. He will make them a good breakfast. He will make sure they drink water, and take small breaks during their studies, even just five minutes to breathe and regroup. Tomorrow, he will stand by as a silent support. He will let Moblit guide Hange through their studies, help where Levi cannot, and then, if things get too much, if Hange needs something to ground themself again, Levi will be right there.

Tomorrow.

But for now, Levi will make sure they rest.

#levihan #snk #my writing #angst

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

Eight Second Ride

Okay, so I did a thing. This is for @charincharge who made me think this was a good idea and @wordsxstars who convinced me to post it anyways when I reconsidered. XD I hope y’all enjoy.

CW- An inaccurate portrayal of modern cowboys. They ain’t shit y'all. XD

The smell of hay and top soil fills the arena and Aelin can feel the anticipation of the crowd rushing through her.

So far, Bulls Night Out had been more epic than she was expecting. When Aedion had showed up at her apartment and presented her with the tickets, she wasn’t impressed. A night in a building filled with dirt, watching men attempt questionable things with animals wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

Yet, with every near-fatal miss and the difference between victory and failure lying in the milliseconds between competitors- Aelin found she was quickly becoming invested in the bizarre sport.

Lorcan Salvaterre was the name highlighted at the top of the leader board with an impressive nine-point-one second ride. A lot of the men, she noticed, didn’t even make the minimum eight seconds before flying off their bull.

Aelin had watched in morbid fascination as a rider named Vaughn was tossed and narrowly escaped death. A hoof missing his head by a hair. His buddies had helped pull him back over the fence just as a gate at the far end of the arena opened. She watched as two men on horses roped the angry steer and guided it back towards the stalls.

When Vaughn saw the timer which now reads N/A he took off his hat and threw it on the ground, yanking on the ends of his dark hair. A couple of hands reached around to pat his shoulder consolingly.

Aelin’s attention was pulled away as Aedion squeezed his massive thighs through the tiny, crowded stadium seating. A cherry frosty in one hand and the funnel cake she requested in the other.

He set the dessert of fried batter and powdered sugar in her lap, and her heart nearly stopped in her chest. Whether it was from the sight of something so greasy, or the pure joy of the carnival snack she didn’t know.

“It’s about time,” she goads Aedion through a mouthful of dough. The sugar already coating her fingers and a layer of it dirtying her jeans. It was a mess, but so good.

Aedion’s eyes narrow at her as he sips his frosty, “It’s a mad house down there. All of the lines are like a mile long and I’m pretty sure a clown tried to grab my ass.” He snags a bite of her funnel cake and shoves it in his mouth. “I hope your snack was worth it.”

“Keeping me happy is worth it,” she smacks his wrist when his fingers try to swipe another bite.

The crowd roars and Aelin looks back down to see a rider running back towards the fence, a glinting smile on his face. On the big screen, they replay his ride and clock him at nine-seconds even, placing him in second place.

Aedion whistles appreciatively at the footage and Aelin claps when a Fenrys Moonbeam is placed just below Lorcan on the leader board.

“Damn, he’s attractive.” Aedion comments, and Aelin nods enthusiastically.

“I’m not going to lie. I was skeptical about this-“ they watch as another rider is helped onto a bull and they await the go, “but this is way more fun then I thought it was going to be.”

“It helps that all of these people are fine,” he laughs. Aedion pulls out his phone, and videos the next ride. It only lasts five seconds, but makes an excellent boomerang that he swiftly posts to his story. Followed by a selfie of them and their snacks.

Lysandra would be so mad she bailed.

“Shit,” Aedion swears as he drops his frosty and the red ice bursts across the front on his shirt. “Shit. I forgot napkins.”

“I’ll go get some,” Aelin assures, but as she battles her way through the crowd and bumps various limbs against other peoples body parts, she regrets her chivalry.

It takes five minutes alone just to get to the bottom of the stairs. Pulling herself free from the throngs of people, Aelin leans against the bars looking down, directly into the arena. She needed a moment of fresh air, not surrounded by dozens of sweaty people. Aedion could wait an extra damn minute.

But, as she peels her eyes open, they nearly bug out of her head. Directly below her she can see right into the shoot, and the bull rider who was being set up for his next ride.

His eyes are the same pine green as the forests of her homeland, and she can see the white hair coiled into a bun right before his buddy slaps a hat on his head.

He was beautiful. A work of masculine art. Muscles for days and Aelin swore she could gut glass against his cheekbones. Aedion’s napkins are long forgotten as she stares at the man situating himself onto the fidgeting bull.

Rowan Whitethorn- the name is plastered on the big screen alongside his previous states and homeland. He’s from Wendlyn, her mother’s country of origin.

When Aelin looks back down, she startled. His face is locked on hers, green eyes piercing her skin with its inquisitiveness. He’s close enough she can see his pail eyelashes droop, apparently satisfied by what he sees. Aelin forces her expression to stay neutral as his yes flitter back up her face to meet her own gaze.

Their eyes lock, neither of them blink. Aelin can feel the temperature of the building rise by several degrees and she bites her lip.

A man slaps Rowan’s shoulder, telling him the count down has started. He barely pays the person any mind though as the seconds before his ride dwindle down. Just before the horn blows, he winks at her.

Aelin’s whole face burns as the gate is released and Rowan is out of the shoot like a rocket. Her heart is thumping in her chest like a base drum and she’s about ready to lay on the floor and die.

That man. She caught that beautiful man’s attention and got into a veritable starting contest with him like a five year-old. Her horror is only exacerbated when she realizes her hands are still coated in powdered sugar and it was probably on her face as well.

So much for her image as smoldering, goddess.

A roar from the crowd rises like never before. The men above the shoots near her have their hats off and are cheering at the top of their lungs. People are stomping, clapping. Something big just happened.

A replay of Rowan’d ride is playing across several different screens. Below his name, is his time.

Twelve seconds.

Suddenly, a pair of calloused hands are gripping the rails near her face, and a heavily muscled body is pulling itself up and over the edge.

Aelin staggers back as Rowan drops onto the floor in front of her. His eyes are lit with adrenalin and sweat beads his brow, but despite the whirlwind he’d just gone through he looked strangely serene.

He marches in front of her grabs a paper from inside his pocket. It’s a crumpled paper with a bold number on one side and on the back is his name and information.

Information like his phone number.

Her mouth goes dry as he presses it into her hand. Rowan gives her a smile that sends a tingle down her spine and makes her toes curl in her shoes.

“You are good luck, doll. You should give me a call sometime.”

Aelin’s bravado catches up with her and she places a hand on her hip, meeting his gaze full on. “If I’m such good luck then you would take me out for a drink. Tonight.”

Pulling the hat from his head, Rowan combs a hand through the loose strands of silver hair cascading around his face. “I think I can manage that.”

“I’ll be in row ten, seat seven. When you are done.” She pushes the piece of paper back at hum and nods to where Aedion is sitting. He’s be pissed when he realized she would be ditching him.

“I’ll see you in about an hour,” his eyes rake over her one more time before walking away to join his jovial friends.

They clap his shoulders, he’s so tall some of them have to jump to rustle the top of his head. All of them enthused over his almost assured win, before they sweep him away and he disappears into the crowd, he looks back at her one more time.

An hour, she mouthes to him.

A half-grin graces his face and he tilts his chin as Aelin makes her way back to Aedion.

Yeah, the rodeo was definitely more exciting then she was expecting.

#one shot maybe #cowboy au #rowaelin #rowan #aelin #charincharge asked #I delivered

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rvspberry · 3 years

Text

Idk if I’m gonna end up posting this on AO3 because it’s very different from what I usually write.

But below the cut is some Johnny Lawrence sexuality crisis angst with a happy ending if you feel like it. (Heavy Christian themes and Lawrusso ending ahead.)

He was righteous, on high, the Almighty personified. Forgiving, and gracious in victory, and good through and through. Set his mind to something and he could make the whole world come alive.

That’s how Johnny felt at the Tournament, at least, when the entire crowd swarmed the floor and lifted LaRusso onto their shoulders, and Johnny snagged the first place trophy. Handed it up like an offering, a sacrificial lamb — all that Johnny had at stake, all that he’d lost, given freely and openly to this holy being.

The crowd grew louder. Johnny called out, “You’re alright, LaRusso. Good match.”

Got a pained, “Thanks,” in return.

He’d touched someone holy and lived to tell the tale.

Once Johnny is at Bobby’s house that night, since Sid and Laura flew to Miami for the week before Christmas, he asks Bobby to pray with him.

“You okay, Johnny?”

Johnny glances up to find worried blue eyes looking over at him, sizing him up — no, not quite. Measuring him, trying to gauge Johnny for what no one could see. Bobby’s eyes are such a different blue than Johnny's, clear and crisp but never cold. Johnny wonders if Bobby sees anything, if Johnny shows anything.

“I just…” Johnny rasps, gripping the glass of water in hand again and taking a hesitant sip. They told him at the hospital that he’d have to rest. Asked if he wanted to press charges, but Johnny just shook his head. “I need some guidance.”

“No better place to look to than to Jesus,” Bobby agrees, reaching out to take Johnny’s hands. He closes his eyes, and Johnny pauses for a brief moment, body going stiff, before he follows suit. Takes a deep breath as Bobby begins. “Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name.”

Daniel.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” Bobby continues.

Johnny squeezes his eyes tighter and tries not to let his grip tighten, too.

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Please forgive me. Please. Daniel. I’m sorry.

“And lead us not into temptation—”

Daniel’s eyes. His grin, his mouth, his lips. Daniel’s body. The confident smirk when he gets up into Johnny’s face.

“—but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,” Bobby finishes, squeezing Johnny’s hands. Johnny blinks his eyes open, jaw clenched, to see Bobby giving him a small smile. “Forever and ever. Amen.”

“Amen,” Johnny repeats weakly, clenching his teeth against the urge to cry. To sob.

To throw himself onto the floor and mourn the loss of a life he’d had for years now, the life he’d fought so hard for. The life of a champion, of a winner, the life of a kid from Encino Hills. The life of someone normal, a leader, head dog even though he came into this life late, no rules established, flying blind and feeling his way into his place.

“You’re sure you’re okay, man?”

“I’m not,” Johnny chokes out. Hangs his head.

There are too many thoughts in his head, too much guilt and shame, and he can’t focus on one without the other flaring up to take his attention. Back and forth, back and forth, between Kreese almost killing him and Daniel’s sensei saving him and Daniel winning the match, to needlessly tormenting Daniel all semester and making a bigger ass of himself each and every time. Over and over, like it was on a loop.

“Do you want to pray again?” Bobby asks, voice dropping lower. “Sometimes it helps. The… repetition. Try to focus on the words this time. Focus on God. Let the spirit take you.”

Take me where? Johnny thinks, but he just tightens his hands around Bobby’s and nods.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

When Bobby leaves at the end of the summer to go to college in Oregon, a special school for religious studies, he leaves Johnny with his new number and a prayer book.

“If things get hard, turn to God,” he reminds Johnny. Pats Johnny’s back while they hug tightly. Johnny hasn’t been apart from Bobby since they became best friends at thirteen, both newly enrolled in Cobra Kai. “God has a plan for all of us, and you can find all your answers in the Lord, man. You just have to be open to hearing them even when they’re not the answers you want.”

Johnny keeps the prayer book. Says a prayer every night. Calls Bobby once a week, like clockwork, and stops drinking. He gets kicked out of Sid’s house when he turns 18 in July, gets a job as a handyman, then starts apprenticing for a carpenter, then starts working construction. It’s hard work but it’s honest work.

Every time his eyes turn to one of his coworkers, when they catch on the sweat and grime smeared over their muscles, or the curve of their ass, or the line of their jaw, Johnny recites one of those prayers in his head.

Dear Lord, please give me strength when I am weak, courage when I am afraid, love when I feel forsaken, wisdom when I feel foolish, comfort when I am alone, hope when I feel rejected, and peace when I am in turmoil. Amen.

Every time he gets asked out for drinks by his well-meaning colleagues, he politely declines and spends ten minutes praying in his car after his shift is over, hands blistered, muscles aching.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among sinners and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Every night, Johnny lays in bed and freestyles his prayers. God needs to know, he probably already knows, but he needs to know that Johnny doesn’t want to be like this. He wants to change. He wants answers. He wants to be open to them, just like Bobby told him.

“Go out tonight,” Bobby laughs when Johnny calls him on a Saturday at his usual time. “Just get out and have some fun. Go to a movie. Buy yourself dinner, whatever. Go meet someone. You’re just working and sleeping. You need to live a little, Johnny.”

Is that what God wants me to do? Johnny thought to himself. To go out and find a woman to settle down with? Is that God’s plan?

It’s what Johnny’s supposed to do, right?

“Okay, okay,” Johnny groans into the phone, ready to slam it back onto the receiver when Bobby whoops in elated triumph. “Some good, clean fun. Fitting for the best friend of a pastor’s son.”

Johnny goes to the movies. The new sequel to Alien, aptly titled ‘Aliens,’ looks halfway decent. Definitely not a good clean movie, but Johnny can live a little. It’s on its last leg, only playing the earlier showings, so Johnny snags the ticket since he figures he can be mostly alone that way. He loiters in the lobby trying to decide between popcorn or an overpriced box of candy to go with his soda. The bored teen behind the counter pops her gum and rolls her eyes as she waits for him to make up his mind.

He doesn’t fidget as he looks in the glass case, even as much as he wants to. It’s been conditioned out of him.

“Back straight, shoulders down, chin up, Mr. Lawrence.”

“Hey, can I get a large popcorn please?” comes a voice from beside him.

Johnny glances over, shaggy hair whipping around his face, and spots the one person he thought he’d never see again. Daniel LaRusso looks the same as he did before — a little taller, maybe, his long limbs filled out a little more, but still the shrimpy kid who kicked his ass.

Same eyes, same voice, same body.

Same mouth.

Dear Lord, please give me strength—

“Johnny? Johnny Lawrence?!” Daniel’s words cut through his prayer.

Johnny inhales sharply. He has to control himself. Give me the strength when I am weak, courage when I—

“Holy shit, man, look at you,” Daniel laughs, tapping Johnny’s bicep tellingly. A year-plus in construction had done wonders for his body, and his arms in particular. “Like a brick shithouse. Are you on steroids?”

“No, I work construction.” Johnny doesn’t know why his voice sounds so rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi, LaRusso. Small world meeting you here, I guess.”

“Yeah, man! You here with anyone?” Daniel glances around, as if trying to pin someone else in the lobby to Johnny, but there was no one to match him up with. No one to match up Daniel with, either.

“No. You?”

“Flying solo today,” Daniel croons, running his hands down his chest. Johnny blushes and looks up at the ceiling.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee—

“What movie are you seeing?” Daniel asks, taking the tub of popcorn from the teen and passing a bill over the counter. He snagged a handful and popped a few butter-soaked pieces into his mouth.

“Uh…” Johnny glances down at his ticket. “Aliens.”

“No way! Me too!” Daniel says around chewing the popcorn. He pauses and looks at Johnny with his head cocked curiously. “You wanna watch it together?”

O, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You. I detest all my sins because of your just punishments, but most of all because they offend you, My God, who are all good and worthy of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.

The movie theater is empty. There’s butter on Daniel’s bottom lip, shining in the dimly lit room. Johnny licks it off in the black silence of the end credits.

Kissing Daniel feels like coming home. It feels like touching something divine, and Johnny’s stained gold in all the places they touch.

Is this God’s plan? Johnny asks himself. Daniel’s fingers tug at his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp. Johnny pulls Daniel across the seat and into his lap as he swallows Daniel’s moan.

Below Johnny’s hands, Daniel feels like an answer.

#lawrusso #lawrusso fic #johnny lawrence fanfiction #daniel x johnny

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