#barricade for my favourite band sounds pretty good right now

[somethingsgottasaveyou]

I was thinking about doing VIP for one Simple Plan gig and then I realized what comes with it; actually getting a credit card and also booking early check in at the hotel for which they charge an unreasonable amount of money as well..

#unreasonable amount of money like 20€ if i remember correctly from past hotels #am i doing it anyways? probably #just need a credit card first #barricade for my favourite band sounds pretty good right now #like 2nd row for atl was pretty rad ngl #didn't think that'd be my thing #also finally being able to show them the tattoos of them sounds worth it too #it's been 7 years #seb and chuck liked the pic of one on instagram #and seb also liked the one with his guitar i have which is pretty cool #but i kinda wanna show them #anyways

[youngveinsworld]

quotes from a fan's recap of the young veins' show at the masquerade in atlanta on 24 march 2010

(this is quite a long one but definitely worth it!)

We stood up close to the barricade- I guess second or third row if someone put it in a row perspective and it mattered. What mattered is it was ridiculously close and the venue is already tiny. Before the show started, I went over to see if they had merch even though I fully suspected that they probably did not. Turns out they had three shirts ($15 each) and I bought two of them because how could I not? 

While the next band was setting up, Ryan picked up an amp and carried it over to help. Everyone was mostly like, “He can carry that thing?” or “Show off” or “It‘s really hollow inside.”

Next was The Young Veins. They come out, Ryan wearing what he’d been wearing the whole tour so far and Nick Murray in a fresh shirt today, and start setting up the stage. I don’t think they got a sound check because it took a good fifteen or twenty minutes to get everything to sound okay -Ryan and Jon telling the sound guy what to turn up and down and so on. Most of us were just mesmerized enough to be cool with that.

Honestly, Ryan has more stage presence as a front man than I would have predicted (or probably given him credit for before this show). At one point Jon started talking about the album and then he told Ryan that he got the information off of their Wikipedia. Ryan obviously wasn’t expecting that answer because he cracked up. After listening to all the songs, I really think this album is going to be better than I was expecting. “Cape Town” is my favourite, possibly, but really, it seems like a solid, well-made bunch of songs. And Ryan has quite the lung capacity. I never saw it coming. There’s hope for our boys yet!

After the show, they were tearing down their equipment and some girls called him over to the side of the stage and Kelsey assumed they were going to ask for the set list. They didn’t though so she called out to Ryan and asked for it. He went over and got his for her and she handed it to me. He took Jon and Andy’s set lists and tossed them into the crowd where Andy’s was instantly ripped into pieces by vicious fangirls. It was a bit scary. When they were finished packing things up, Ryan went to head off the stage and tripped, but caught himself. 

Since the Masquerade is the coolest venue ever, I waited a few minutes, then walked right out back where the band had assembled. A few other fans went out back too and I walked out with Ryan’s gift basket.

“Ryan,” Kelsey called, then looked at me. “You wanna give it to him?” “This is for you,” is all I said and held it out. I was mentally flipping out because I’ve only been trying and failing when it comes to meeting this guy for years and now all of a sudden there he was. Ryan just smiled and said, “What did I do to deserve this?”

I told him I had just been trying to meet him forever so it was kind of like a gift to him because I had finally gotten to meet him and was celebrating. He’s a hard guy to get close to! I pointed to the fox in the basket and said, “That‘s your pet fox until you get a real one. This one will tour better.” He smiled and said, “I might feed it to my real fox when I get one. How‘s that?” I was pretty much like, “Fine with me!” because really, anything he wanted would probably be fine with me. He thanked me, all shy and sweet, and said he was going to set the basket out of the way.

Some other girls called him over and Jon, Andy, and Nick Murray were all standing around so I pulled out my bag and started handing out silly string. Of course the first thing Mr. Jon Walker does is shake it up and spray silly string all over Nick. Nick looked down at his shirt and got this very kicked puppy look about him. So I handed one to Nick and told him to retaliate. Jon ran off with his can and to some other fans, but he kept spraying people. In a few minutes, he had sprayed Nick, Will (tour manager), Andy, me, Kelsey, Ryan, and some people I didn’t know. Ryan saw his shoulder covered in silly string and proceeded to try to decorate his shoulder with it. I gave Ryan his silly string to retaliate and he forgot to shake it so when he sprayed it on Will it mostly just came out this watery liquid and soaked the guy’s shirt in a spot. FailRoss strikes again.

I asked if I could hug him and I’ve been anticipating hugging that boney kid for quite some time, but you know what? It was like the softest hug I’ve ever gotten. It wasn’t at all like I expected. It was delicate and fragile and soft. It was better than I thought though. Way better.

We saw Nick White and gave him his silly string. We told him the others had some so it was best to be ready to defend himself. He laughed and took it before running off with it in hand. A few minutes later, Ryan and Jon end up by the merch booth and a decent amount of fans gathered to meet them. We gave Jon his choice of the thread bracelets and he chose three of them and then said, “I can braid them together. Want to see me braid them?” He looked around for a moment then held the ends of the three bracelets up to me. “Here, hold these.” he said, so I did and he started braiding them really quickly. “Have you ever had braiding competitions to see who could braid the fastest?” he asked me, but honestly, I’d never even thought of having braid competitions. Apparently, Mr. Walker does this in his spare time or something. We then tied them around his wrist and got him to sign and take a picture with him. We gave him this green glow in the dark bracelet that he was excited about and instantly snapped it so it would glow and put it on. We got pictures with him and left him to the other waiting fans. One of the fans had a Foxy Shazam poster from the venue that had been up advertising the show and Jon drew himself into the picture as a stick figure. Pretty awesome.

We stopped Nick White before his family (who were at the show considering it was a home show for the Georgia boy) got to steal him away. He was awesome enough to sign three of my Bright Eyes liner notes that I had brought with me. I told him my mother was from Georgia and that her maiden name was White and he laughed and said, “Do we have the same mother?!” Pretty sure Nick White and I are unofficially family now. (Edited: Since then, we've found out we're distant cousins for real, but we fondly refer to each other as siblings. He knows us his sisters when he come to a show and we call him our brother so that's cool enough for us.) I asked him how they differentiate between the Nicks usually and he said Nick Murray commonly goes by Nicholas with the band. However, Andy and Will had also said earlier they call Nick Murray “Wildcard” and Will said he called Nick White “Peaches.” Take any of those as you’d like. We gave a glow bracelet to him too and he said, “Oowh, I want a pink one!” Dinosaur Grab-bag result: pterodactyl. It fit nicely into his pocket too with it‘s orangey-yellow head sticking out to confuse people.

Jon was now finished talking to the crowd he had had earlier and so we let him play Dino Grab-bag and he got a stegosaurus that he was quite happy with actually. (I don‘t even know what these guys are going to do with them, but they were too epic not to get them.) Kelsey mentioned his lack of flip flops and he said it had started when they were moving equipment because he has a tendency to tumble over his own feet a bit. He even volunteered to take his shoes off if Kelsey preferred, but the ground was wet a bit where people was tracked things inside so we let him keep them on. He said also something about how they didn’t get to shower as much since they were in a van. I said, “Yeah, and they only have one shower here.” Jon nodded and cringed and said, “And I don‘t want to use it after those dudes have been in there.” He said it like he was a pretty clean little girl and boys were yucky. It was fabulous. 

I gave [Ryan] a beaded bracelet. “Owh, it has my name on it,” he remarked, but almost instantly Jon appeared and held out his and said, “I‘ve got one too. Don‘t feel too special.” Ryan deflated a bit, but it was all playful as Jon wondered off again. I asked if it would be okay if he signed my Panic liner notes and he said, “As long as it‘s not their new album.” 

Kelsey immediately goes, “Are you going to ask him?” I’d forgotten my question so she had to remind me. “Birthday…”

“Oh yeah,” I remember, “Did you get the flowers I sent you for your birthday?”

Ryan smiled a little. “Yeah, I did. That was you?” he asked, “They came to the studio.” (It was the only address I had found that would reach him and it actually took some stalking in itself.) I told him my mom owned a florist so I got them wired out to California for him. He shrugged a little and looked down and said, “It was nice to get them. Made me feel like someone still cared.” My little Ryan Ross loving heart just broke. How could he think someone didn’t?! And if I remember correctly, all the card with them said was, “Hope your have a great birthday, Ryan! Can‘t wait to hear the new music! -Lindsey”

We let Ryan pick a thread bracelet and he looked over them and picked one that Kelsey had actually made on the way to the show with Ryan specifically in mind. It was turquoise, tan, and dark green and she thought it was so ugly that no one would want it. Ryan held it up to his pale yellow shirt and said, "It matches, see?" Who knew Ryan Ross was concerned with matching clothes?

When we left, our oh-so-awesome mother had parked next to their bus in the back alley (she always parks in that alley at shows so it wasn‘t like she was stalking them for us). We passed the bus and saw Ryan’s gift basket in the front seat and Ryan’s fort thing in the back seat (yeah, it‘s still there..ha!). Anyway, she had parked next to the bus and it was dark enough that they couldn’t see us so we sat there when they came out and packed everything in. My mom was all like, “That‘s Ryan, right? And that‘s Jon? Who is that?” and funnily, “That little guy is 24?!” and she seriously thought Nick Murray was like 14.

Over all, the entire band is humble and sweet and anything but self-absorbed like some people want to make them out to be. Each one thanked us multiple times for coming and for the gifts and for being so nice and everything. Really, they’re great guys. Go see them. Talk to them afterward. You’ll thank yourself. Seriously. Worth every minute.

(Also, the tweets about bracelets, plastic dinosaurs, glow sticks, play-doh, Ryan‘s puppy&kitty coloring book page, and the “vixen” were all gifts we gave them. Seriously, I don‘t ever want to hear about these guys being anything but amazing to fans. THEY.RULE.)

More information from the comments:

By the way I don't think it said it in there but before I left that night I walked past Jon and he was combing his hair with his dinosaur complain that it was all sweaty and curly. What a dork.

Haha...he was complaining about his hair all evening. I had no idea his hair was such a big deal to him. But if he wants to comb his hair with a dinosaur toy, who are we to try to stop him?

oh god @ me being in the bg of your picture with jon... anyway i was gonna tell you that we met jon right after you gave him the bracelets and he spent like ten seconds looking at it saying, "they gave me a bracelet, look!"

– from this Livejournal post

#the young veins #young veins #tyv #ryan ross #jon walker #recap #spring2010 #24032010 #with fans #silly string

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vinnie

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

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

[paulsmashedpotato]

Do you make The beatles fanfics? If yes, can you make one with Paul for me, where y/n has a huge crush on him and all the other beatles know except him because he's always been oblivious? I would like to read it hiihi. You can decide how it ends. Thank you so much!

Thank you for this idea! It's really cute! I'll try my best to write it as good as I can :-))

Masterlist

Midnight

Pairing: Paul McCartney x reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: None that I could think of :-))

Summary: The request is the summary :-)) But to elaborate, y/n has been working as the secretary for the band and she became really close friends with the boys over the course — she had a huge crush on Paul which he was very oblivious about.

Year: Mid-60s

You’ve been friends with The Beatles since you started working in their team two years ago as a secretary and you’re usually the one that talks to the press during cancellations when the manager and the band cannot. It wasn’t entirely hard working with the boys, they’re well behaved — well sometimes. Okay fine, not that behaved but they were still a bunch of nice-sometimes-immature-but-funny boys.

You were in a small two-storey cottage where the band hangs out when they feel like taking a break — also to write songs for a new album. You didn’t really need to be around since it was just a casual hang out and didn’t need a professional aura but since they’re really good friends with you, they always tag you along in their plans which you are forever grateful for. You really enjoyed spending time with them and just watching them fool around the place. 

“Come on, just admit it already," John pushily says, puffing his smoke to the other direction — he knew how much you hated the smell so he’d blow it as far from you as possible. “Admit what?” You asked innocently, like as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. He started picking up on your huge crush for Paul, saying he’s known since the first year and he just didn’t want to pressure you into admitting — but now he says it’s been long enough and he was assuming you’ve already gathered enough confidence. “Your big fat crush over —” 

“Did you really call me up here just to talk to me about this?” You butt in before he could even mention the name. You were both seated on the lounge chair out the cottage’s terrace, relaxing under the almost setting sun. The sky was painted with colours of golden orange and splashes of pink were also vivid. The wind wasn’t too harsh, it was just perfect and relaxing.

“Yeah, today’s the only time I can help you out on your crush problem. Tomorrow, we might start writing all day again," he said, finally putting the cigar out on the ash tray. “I have no idea what you’re talking about John," you said, sighing as you got up. “I’m going back in.”

“Maybe you’ll know what I’m talking about if I went into details,” he said, almost in a jokingly-threatening manner, you squinted at him; you weren’t going to give in to his dirty tricks, he’s just saying that, you thought, turning around again, what details is he even talking about? Pfft. You mentally scoffed.

“Like that one time you were taking pictures of him while he was writing, took a bunch, by the way. God, if I just get my hands on that camera I’d be RICH in proofs!” You turned around, sending him a glare. ”You are nosy!” 

“A little, yeah,” he laughed, standing up and putting his heavy arm over your shoulders. “Just tell him already! I’m helping you out here, y/n.”

You were about to say something when both George and Ringo walked in. “Tell whom what?” George asked curiously. You immediately looked at John, who seemed really excited to tell. “Don’t you dare —”

“Let us in on the secret,” George frowned. “Come on, not fair.”

“There are no secrets, George, John’s just playing around —”

“She likes Paul,” John said nonchalantly and a little too loud. You kicked his shin causing him to yelp and curl trying to rub it to stop hurting. “Stop spreading fake news, you a —” 

“I knew it!” George beamed, causing John to laugh. “See, you’re obvious.”

You just sighed, giving up and plopping back down on the lounger, there’s no point denying it to them — you guess you were pretty obvious sometimes. You would always stay up late whenever Paul does just so he won’t be alone, you’d hug him more than you did the other guys, and you loved taking photographs of him — not as creepy as it sounds. “If it were that obvious, how come he’s never said anything about it?”

“You know Paul’s a bit... dumb sometimes," George says, making you chortle. “No, he’s not.”

He nodded his head defensively, putting both hands up in mock surrender. “Oblivious, I mean.”

“Very," John added. “I mean, I think he had every reason to, you also hug the three of us all the time, you bring us same amount of foods and drinks, you complimented all of us often — he’s probably thinking you’re just doing your job.”

“I hug him twice as much,” you muttered sulkingly, your eyes closed and your arms crossed against your chest. “Doesn’t matter, it’s just a small crush. Not really expecting anything,” you lied. You knew you wanted to at least have something more with Paul. Even for a while, see if it works out. “Just try telling him.”

“Can’t, George. I can’t just throw all my cards on the table like that,” 

“You’ve been throwing one card a day since the first time, bird. You’ve long ran out,” John said matter-of-factly. You just groaned. “Whatever. I just want to keep it professional. My contract with you guys is ending in a few weeks anyway.”

“Aren’t you renewing?” Ringo asked, you opened your eyes to look at him, he looked sad. Ringo was the calmest out of the four (Although he can be a bit talkative too unlike George who's really quiet) and he’s treated you like a little sister since the beginning, he’d say ‘your brother is lucky to have you' with a matching ruffling of the hair.

“I don’t know," you mumbled, closing your eyes again. “If it’s about Paul —” 

“It’s not, it’s not. I just... really have a long list of other things I want to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like Paul," you cockily joked and they all turned away with a stifled laugh. “Kidding, I’m kid —”

“What about me?” You froze when you heard Paul’s voice, he was walking towards the rest of you, a glass of whatever alcohol is in his hand. The other three fell silent and they were sharing awkward glances with each other. You mentally groaned, can’t they be any more fucking obvious?

“What were you guys talking about?” Paul asked again after a few minutes of silence and just awkward glances while you were seated, frozen. “Y/n’s contract is ending and she said she’s not getting it renewed," Ringo said, carefully lifting himself up to sit on the barricade.

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s all the reaction I’m gonna get from Paul while I got sad looks from the other three?

“Yeah, oh.” you sarcastically repeated, you were a bit disappointed with the reaction. John immediately noticed, getting up, walking towards the door back inside the cottage. “Help me with something, y/n?” He called, you looked at him, nodding and getting off the lounger, you walked past Paul, your shoulder hitting him. You lazily apologized, not looking at him. 

John walked you to your room, he was seating on the edge of your bed while you were lied down, your pillow over your face. “Y’alright?” He finally asked after debating about it in his head, he didn’t want to trigger your tears but he also wanted to make sure. “Yeah, yeah," you spoke sotto voce, the pillow still on your face. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t really need to care, it’s not like I do. I could care less about Paul —”

“Don’t lie, it just makes it harder, y/n," he murmured, you stopped rambling, sitting up and putting the pillow on your back. “You’re right, who am I kidding? God, I care about him so much, his opinions and all that — getting an oh is just... disappointing.”

“Come on, you know Paul better, he’s not very open about his feelings. Who knows, he may be disappointed as well, just not showing it. He tends to avoid attachments," John explained, you just weakly smiled, bringing up your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

The night still went on pretty smoothly, you were keeping distance from Paul, hoping it’d make you like him less if you just stay away for a bit. You thought you were just liking him because you’re spending a lot of time with him.

“S’fine,” you smiled, not looking at him, “What are you doing still up?” 

It was already midnight and you couldn’t sleep so you decided to go out the terrace, seating on the barricade with your feet dangling down. You were just looking at the bright, silver moon. “I didn’t know it was a full moon tonight,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Me neither.”

The very familiar and your favourite voice startled you and luckily, he was able to grab on to you immediately. “Careful, you’re gonna fall,” he says, finally letting go of you so he could jump up the barricade as well to seat beside you. “Sorry, I startled you.” 

“I should also be asking you that,” he said, you see him looking at you through your peripheral vision. You were trying so hard not to look at him, you’re scared it will just give away all that you’re thinking about at the moment.

You looked back up to the moon, silence engulfing the two of you. The only thing you could hear was the cold wind that was brushing against your skins and each other’s quiet breathing. 

“Can’t sleep,” you replied, putting your hands down against the cement to prop your shoulders higher. “I can’t too."

You finally turned your head to him, he was looking at his hands. “Do you want me to make you tea?” You asked and he just shook his head.

“I was actually thinking about something,” he finally said. You relaxed your shoulders, putting your hands on your lap. “What about?” 

“Just... are you really not going to renew your contract?” He asked, looking at you, his voice sounded miserable than it did when he reacted with an oh a while ago. “I don’t know, Paul,” you sighed. “I really don’t know, there’s really no reason to renew —”

“Are we not enough reason for you to stay and want to renew? John? Ringo? George?” He asked. He sounded a bit hurt. “No —” 

“No?”

“No. No, I mean — no, that’s not what I meant —”

“Then what do you mean?”

“God, let me finish, hush,” you said, making him break into a fit of laughter. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s just really hard to explain, Paul. I don’t think I’m always going to have that emotional capacity to take care of you, guys —” And watch you flirt with fans all the time or random chicks at the bar. It’s... not making my life any better.

“Are we giving you a hard time?” He asked, you shook your head with a silent snort. “Sometimes, yeah, I mean, John’s always playing around, George would need food every second to function, you’re always all over the place. Ringo was the only break I ever really had — sometimes George too when he's not in the mood to talk,” you laughed. “But I enjoyed it. So, so much. I enjoyed being with you... guys. With you guys." You cleared your throat.

“Then stay.” 

You were going to say something but it escaped your mind, looking at him sadly, you smiled. “I’ll think about it, Paul.”

He didn’t say anything. You fell into another deafening silence, it was getting even colder, he must’ve noticed you shiver a bit so he moved a bit closer, taking your hands and wrapping it with his and pinning it between his thighs. You just looked at him do what he was doing. You didn’t want to give anything meanings as you didn’t want to keep your hopes up. He’s just being nice. You thought, your eyes glued on both your hands. 

“You didn’t talk to me much tonight, are you okay?”

You nodded hesitantly, he didn’t say anything back.

Another long silence.

“I’m just gonna throw it out there, I like you, Paul," you finally said after rehearsing it over and over again in your head. You had nothing to lose anymore, the contract’s ending anyway so if it turned out awkward, you’d only have a few weeks to endure until you never see him again. You were too afraid to look at his reaction, so you kept your eyes on your hands. 

You looked at him when you heard him let out a quiet laugh, you nudged him with your shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m being serious.”

“I know, but — why did you just tell me that now?” He asked. “It was risky. Too risky. But since my contract’s ending soon, I couldn’t care less anymore. Just thought you should at least know before I leave,” you sadly said, it was sincere and vehement. “You’re a really, really, really great person and I admire you a lot.”

“You could’ve told me that sooner, been waiting to hear it since last year." He shrugged.

“What?” Was all that came out your mouth — is he saying he knew? Does that mean he likes me back? What is happening? What is he talking about? Multiple questions came rumbling into your mind. “I always thought you were just being nice because you are, not just to me. But I had this little hope that you liked me more because... well, you hugged me a bit longer than you did with the rest. It’s just one small thing but that extra three seconds really meant a lot to me and I gave meaning to it.”

You just looked at him, not really knowing what to say, you were overwhelming with joy, fear that it’s a dream, confusion, questions, but mostly with joy. He leaned in a little closer and you started to feel heat rush up to your face, the warmth of his breath was all you could feel. He freed his other hand to cup your face, pulling you closer, your noses were basically touching. You were just waiting for him to do it but part of you is thinking he’s gonna pull back and say it was a joke and then laugh at you — you’d be ready to jump off by then.

“Is it okay?” He asked, his voice was barely above a whisper. You took your hand up to his nape, initiating the kiss. It wasn’t aggressive, hungry, or the like, it was sweet and longing. Like something you both have been waiting to do for so long — neither just had the confidence to admit. 

You wondered what stars aligned tonight for you to have the confidence to admit and him saying he liked you back — and getting a kiss — all at the same night. You couldn’t think of any other explanations — all possible constellations must’ve been made.

Random pic bc he looks cute here. :-))

This was requested three weeks ago, I think? Forgive me, yes? :-))

---

Let's be mutuals please!

#the beatles #the beatles x reader #paul mccartney #george harrison #john lennon #ringo starr #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison x reader #john lennon x reader #ringo starr x reader #fem!reader x paul mccartney #sorryifitsucksimnottoogoodatthishahahahaenjoyanywaythankyou

[capcarolsdanver]

Backstage

Request: Would you do an Envy Adams imagine ? Maybe being all flirty and meeting after a show or something

Pairing: Envy Adams x Reader

A/N: My first Envy fic! It’s kinda short but when requests are open again I’d definitely be open to writing more for Envy! I’m not really sure how in character I wrote her so please let me know what you think! Also, Reader’s friend is just a character I made up and is obviously not from the movie. Feedback is always appreciated!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

You grin widely as you and your best friend, Hannah, lean on the barricade directly at the front of the stage, buzzing with excited energy. You’d waited a long time for this day to arrive, and it was finally here.

The Clash at Demonhead was your absolute favourite band and you weren’t at all ashamed to admit it. You’re completely obsessed with the band members, specifically Envy Adams, the lead singer, and this is your first time seeing them live, so to say you’re excited is an understatement.

Though generally you’re definitely a bit of an introvert, and people constantly point out how shy you seem, when you’re at concerts you tend to let go and let the music completely take over you. When the lights go out and the beginning notes of the first song sound across the crowd, you and Hannah turn to each other and scream ecstatically before you turn your attention to the stage.

You hear Envy’s voice and when the stage lights up your eyes finally land on her. You stare at her in awe for a solid few seconds before you lose yourself in the music. You and Hannah loudly sing and dance pretty terribly, but of course you were having too much fun to care so you kept going with every song the band played.

Towards the end of the concert, when the band finish playing one of their songs, Hannah grabs your arm and pulls you towards her.

“Dude, Envy keeps staring at you!”

You look at her, bewildered, and shake your head.

“What? No way.”

“Seriously!”

“Aren’t you too busy staring at Todd to notice what Envy’s doing?” You tease, knowing that your friend has always had the biggest crush on the bassist. She rolls her eyes lightly and looks at you.

“I’m telling you, it’s that obvious that even if I was staring at Todd I would notice.”

You chance a glance at the stage, where Envy is getting a drink of water near the other musicians.

“But basically everyone knows that Envy and Todd are a thing though. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah says with a shrug. “Maybe everyone’s wrong.”

You and Hannah watch Envy walk over to Todd, touching his shoulder to make him lean down so she can whisper in his ear. Seeing this, the crowd goes wild, cheering in their obvious belief that the two band members were in fact together. You raise your eyebrows at Hannah.

“See what I mean?” Hannah looks kind of disappointed, her eyes moving from you back to the stage. You notice them widen slightly and she starts insistently tapping your arm.

“Hannah, what the hell?”

She subtly tilts her head towards the stage and you look up to see Envy and Todd both looking in your direction now. Envy continues speaking quietly to Todd and he nods at her.

“Now do you see what I mean?” Hannah says and you look at her, disbelief across your face.

“I still refuse to believe they were looking at me. There’s so many people here. They could be looking at you for all we know.” Hannah rolls her eyes at you before Envy’s voice captures your attention.

“How’s everyone doing?” Her airy voice carries across the crowd, who loudly cheer back at her. “Alright, we’ve got one more song for you.” The crowd let out a joint sound of disappointment and Envy frowns with them.

“I know, I’m sorry. But all good things must come to an end, right? Thank you all for coming. See you next time!”

The stage goes dark again as the band begins playing Black Sheep, and when they get to the verse the lights come back on. This time you pay more attention to Envy, Hannah’s words playing on your mind.

And sure enough, to your astonishment, she does keep her eyes on you for majority of the song, openly smirking now that she’s finally got you looking back at her. You can’t help but stand in awe as everyone sings and dances around you.

You watch Envy moving around the stage, unable to take your eyes off of her, and during the last chorus she offers you a wink before the final notes of the song play and the stage is once again dark.

“Believe me now?” Hannah teases from beside you.

“Oh my god. I don’t even think my life can get any better than this.”

“Excuse me?” You hear from the other side of the barricade, and turn to find a man smiling at you. “Envy Adams has asked for me to escort you backstage to the band’s dressing room.” Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Wait, what?! Are you serious?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man nods and chuckles a little at your reaction. “Your friend may come with you, too.”

You look at Hannah, who looks just as dumfounded as you, before the two of you follow the man backstage.

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

He leads you to a door, music thumping from behind it. Smiling at you again, he knocks loudly on the door before nodding and leaving you and Hannah to stand in the hallway.

A second later the door swings open, revealing Envy Adams.

“Well, hello there,” she greets and you don’t even know what to say, still taken aback by the situation you find yourself in, so you stand with your mouth slightly open. Envy smirks at you.

“Envy, thank you for inviting us backstage!” Hannah says, obviously picking up on your failure to find words. “You guys were amazing!” You give a quiet sigh of relief when Envy looks to Hannah, giving yourself a moment to attempt to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” Envy smiles, her eyes drifting back to you. “Come on in.” She pulls the door open wider, stepping aside to give you room to walk in and you give Hannah a silent look of thanks for covering for your awkwardness.

You and Hannah enter the room and stop in the centre of it. Your introverted nature is thankful that there’s enough people in the room that the sole focus isn’t on you. Envy shuts the door and approaches you again, noticing your nervous gaze on the people all around you.

“We have friends in this town, so it’s a little more lively than usual tonight.” Your attention falls on Envy and you nod at her but feel immediately awkward when you see her eyes scan over your body, trying not to squirm under her gaze.

“It’s uh. It’s a great atmosphere in here,” You reply, mentally facepalming at how incredibly lame you’re acting in front of Envy Adams right now. Her lips pull into an amused smile before another voice grabs her attention.

“Envy, who do we have here?” Todd joins you, standing next to Hannah who shoots you a quick look before looking back at Todd. He wears a confident smile as he looks between you and Hannah.

“You know, I’m still trying to find that out too,” Envy comments, looking at you and Hannah expectantly. “What’re your names?”

“I’m Hannah,” your friend announces and Envy nods at her before her eyes fall back onto you.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say.

“Y/N,” Envy repeats your name in her airy tone as she takes a step closer to you. “A beautiful name to match a beautiful face.” You feel your face flush, lost in the way Envy looks at you.

“Hannah, how about we go have a drink over here?” Todd gestures behind him and to no surprise, Hannah immediately agrees, giving you an encouraging smile before following behind Todd. You watch them walk away, feeling Envy’s eyes still on you.

“Would you look at that? We’re all alone.” Envy smiles at you when your eyes meet hers again. “How about you go take a seat and I grab us some drinks?”

“Oh, yeah sure!” You try not to let your nerves get the best of you and you smile at Envy and sit down on a couch away from the rest of the people. You silently try to shake your nerves off before Envy saunters over to you, handing you a drink and joining you on the couch.

“Thank you,” you say politely and you hear Envy chuckle.

“You know, after seeing how you were during the show, I’ve gotta say that I’m a little surprised by how reserved you are.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to disappoint then,” you mumble, feeling yourself tense up and pull away from Envy slightly.

“Oh, no. You didn’t disappoint at all!” Envy quickly clarifies. “I like it.” Your muscles relax a little and let a breath out, nodding.

“Well, thank you then,” you say, a bit more confident now.

You quickly scan the room for Hannah, your eyes eventually landing on her. Todd has an arm slung around her shoulders as he talks to her and she catches your eye, smiling and offering a subtle thumbs up to you. Envy follows your gaze to the two across the room.

“I know it probably seems like we bring girls backstage every show, but I swear we don’t,” she says, watching Todd pull Hannah closer. “Well, I don’t. I can’t speak for Todd. I hope your friend isn’t expecting anything serious.”

“I wouldn’t worry. I really don’t think she has a preference what they do to be honest, just as long as they do something.” Envy laughs. “And you’re different?” You get the nerve to ask and Envy’s intense gaze is back on you again.

“I’d like to think so,” she says and you squint your eyes, looking at her skeptically.

“So why’d you ask me back here, then?” Envy’s eyes soften slightly and a small smile plays at her lips.

“The way you were so into every single song we played, I’ve never seen anyone experience our music like that before. I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

Her answer surprises you a little and you blush, biting your lip. Envy’s eyes are immediately drawn to it.

“Well, what can I say? Your music makes me feel like I can let everything go and just be me,” you shrug, replying to her honestly. Envy places her hand on your thigh lightly, studying you intently.

“Well, I hope it’s not just my music that can make you feel like that.” You gulp nervously, your eyes trained on Envy’s hand as she squeezes your thigh gently. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, letting out a shaky breath and Envy scoots a little closer to you.

“Do I make you nervous?” She practically whispers.

“Well, yeah. You’re Envy Adams,” you laugh and she smirks at you, her confidence radiating off of her.

“You know, we’re staying here for a little longer because of all the friends we have here. I’d love to get to know you some more over the next few days.”

You hum at her. “And what about tonight?”

Your gaze falls to Envy’s lips when her tongue darts out to wet them before they pull into another smirk.

“Well, I was hoping you’d maybe like to come see my hotel room.”

#envy adams x reader #envy adams imagine #brie larson x reader #brie larson imagine #envy adams #brie larson #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim #envy adams fic #brie larson fic #mine #fic

[lalcne-blog]

index: illumia farryn

sunlight. a piano melody. dense forests. new books. glass slippers. fairytales. stepping into the unknown. quiet dinners. band-aids. cafes. grass-stained dresses.

          TINY FINGERS DANCE across the piano keys, a distinct melody surrounding the room. illumia closes her eyes, imagining music notes floating through the air, the sunlight from the open window shining across them, perhaps even creating a rainbow without rain. a serene smile makes its way onto her face, an expression that would suit a much older woman, not a five year old like herself.

          the music stops and she opens her eyes, looking expectantly at the woman standing beside the piano. her expression is stern.

          ❝ excellent, illumia. i can tell you’ve been practicing. ❞ despite the apathetic face, illumia is happy. this is high praise from her teacher. ❝ keep at it. you will achieve great things. ❞

          illumia beams.

          her childhood is full of pretty dresses and silk ribbons and lavish parties. she learns that she’s a noble and that she should act as such, sitting with her back straight and her legs positioned just right so that she appears elegant. she smiles around people she doesn’t know because a young lady must be polite, and her mother does the same thing, so why wouldn’t she ??

          most of the time, she is given permission to play with the other children ( providing she doesn’t dirty her dress or stuff her face or let her hair fall out of place ), but as she grows older, she finds her parents requesting her presence during conversations more and more. at first, she sees this as a blessing. she isn’t being treated like a baby anymore.

          but that feeling is a fleeting one.

          she soon realises that she isn’t part of the conversation, at least not in the way she wishes to be. there is no room for her opinion. instead, she’s the subject of scrutiny. she is introduced to other nobles whose names always escape her the moment the night ends, but according to her mother, they are good friends. no proof is ever given to substantiate that.

          the strangers’ responses to her vary, but most are along the lines of ❝ she’s a very polite girl, isn’t she ?? ❞ and ❝ she seems so mature for her age ❞ and ❝ i’m sure she’ll blossom into a fine young woman. ❞ she -- these people know she has a name, right ?? -- doesn’t understand what any of this means, or why it’s so important, or why her parents are so satisfied when the conversation is over.

          she’s at the age where her imagination begins to run wild, where she dreams of leaping out her window and exploring the forest at night while the wind blows through her hair. not that she ever would, of course. her parents wouldn’t take too kindly to that.

          she’s also been reading her story books lately, presents from when she was younger. they tell her tales of love and happily-ever-afters, and she decides she wants that for herself someday in a future that seems so distant from where she is now. she’s only a child, after all, and she likes to remain as logical as she can despite her active imagination. the chances of her having a whirlwind romance at such a young age are zero to none.

          her belief is that everyone deserves a happy ending and that it’s attainable for everyone, but she’s noticed that one relationship in particular doesn’t quite match up to what her stories tell her.

          ❝ hey, daddy, ❞ she says one night when her father comes in to tuck her into bed, ❝ you and mummy are in love, like in the stories, right ?? and this is your happily ever after ?? ❞

          her dad appears surprised at the question, and for a moment, he stares at the butterfly mural on her wall. she follows his gaze, seeing no issue with this. her wall is rather pretty, after all.

          ❝ i love your mother, of course i do, ❞ he says with a reassuring smile when he turns back to her. ❝ and of course this is our happily ever after, because you’re in it. ❞

          he runs his hand through her hair before switching off her lamp and leaving the room. his answer is a comforting one, and it will be several years before she pieces together what’s wrong with it, what he didn’t say. but for now, she’s content.

          this isn’t the first time illumia has imagined leaping out her window and flying into the night, but it’s the first time she’s genuinely considering it. she could resume her unfinished homework that lies forgotten on the desk, or better yet, ask her parents what in the world they were talking about when she passed the kitchen earlier, but the night sky is the subject of her focus tonight. or at least it should be. the conversation continues to run through her mind despite never being part of it.

          ❝ and what about fern’s son ?? he’s a few years older, but once they’re adults, that won’t matter. they’ll get along just fine. ❞

          ❝ i’m not sure, i’d rather she be with someone closer to her own age. she isn’t even a teenager yet. adoran’s boy might be more suitable. ❞

          ❝ perhaps, but his father isn’t offering as much as fern is. this is our daughter’s future on the line, you know. my father only accepted the best for me, and that was you. i want the same for her. ❞

          illumia hadn’t stayed around to listen after that. she’d heard enough. now she’s crumpled against her window seat with her arms folded across the windowsill, breathing in the night air as she contemplates what her parents meant.

          well, she actually already knows. she’s heard the stories of arranged marriages within the noble seelie ranks, and she’s sure one or two of the weddings she’s attended were for arranged couples. it never seemed like something to worry about, never something she might be subjected to some day, and yet here she is, wondering who her life is going to be tied down to for the rest of time the moment she becomes an adult.

          as her father said, she isn’t even a teenager yet. she still has a few more years to go before then, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’ll never be ready. she wants to fall in love and choose the person she’ll ultimately marry herself. this shouldn’t be about money. her mother says she wants the best for her, and yet doesn’t even ask her opinion.

          and then there is the revelation that her parents were also arranged. it may not change the fact that they are legally bound in marriage, but to illumia, it changes everything.

          she narrows her eyes at the moon, but immediately feels bad, as the moon doesn’t deserve her wrath. she sighs and is about to look away when she sees something flickering -- zooming ?? flying ?? -- in the distance, a humanoid shape that she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from.

          she learns what freedom is.

          freedom is diving out your window in the dead of night to fly across the treetops. freedom is not caring if you dirty your nightgown and socks. it’s innocent first kisses and skipping stones across the river, dancing among the fireflies as they tangle themselves in your hair. it’s spending time with people she never would have met otherwise.

          it’s these nights with her friends that make the routine of the day bearable. she’s aware of just how much her parents keep from her now, and she suspects that this is her way of retaliating. just because she’s young doesn’t mean she can’t have secrets of her own.

          she can tell they’re pleased because her mood has been so much better lately, and there is a certain satisfaction to knowing how much they would hate the truth.

          it’s only when she’s home from lucille for the winter holidays that she notices something that was right in front of her all along.

          the annual winter ball is nothing new to her, nor is the way her parents stand with their backs straight, side-by-side but never touching. the closest they ever get to affection is linking arms when walking into the room. no, her parents’ lack of chemistry is something she’s been aware of for years now.

          it’s the way her father’s eyes seem to follow one man, another noble that illumia has known for years. adoran is the father of one of her potential ❛ suitors ❜, and has therefore always been seen as the enemy -- one of many -- but something is different tonight. or perhaps everything is the same and she is only now noticing.

          she recognises the expression on her father’s face. it’s one of longing, of watching something you can’t have, when there is some sort of barricade between you and what ( who ) you want and nothing you do can break it down. a look of helplessness as you find yourself unable to look away despite knowing better.

          ( she knows this look because she sees it in the mirror all the time. )

          her parents have never been in love. she’s known this for a long time and learned to accept it long ago, but she never considered anything beyond that. she never considered that they might have been in love before. that they might still be in love.

          she’s going to be a doctor.

          it wasn’t some big revelation, nothing in particular that sparked her interest in medicine, but a series of small, almost inconsequential things. tending to the scrapes and wounds of the younger skull bois, researching potions for different ailments, never looking away when the family doctor was conducting his check-ups. it’s always been there in the back of her mind, but it’s her need to assist others that rises above them all.

          all she wants to do is help people, so why is she crying ??

          she’s standing on one of the highest bridges in lucille, one that connects two turrets together. it’s one of her favourite spots and a place rarely ever visited at night when most people are safe and sound inside the dorms. no one is here to hear her sobs.

          that is, until she senses a presence behind her.

          ❝ are you mad at me, too ?? ❞ she asks.

          ❝ no, ❞ dusk says, and even without turning around, she can see him shaking his head. ❝ i can’t say i relate, but i’m not mad. to be honest, i couldn’t see you doing anything else. ❞

          she manages a brief smile at that. ❝ thanks. ❞

          ❝ no problem. ❞ he walks forward so he’s standing next to her. ❝ can i ask, though -- why a doctor ?? ❞

          at first she shrugs, but after a moment of silence, she answers, ❝ because i think i can make a difference. and because i’m interested in it, of course. making people feel better is something i always want to do. ❞

          ❝ illumia farryn, always thinking of other people, ❞ dusk says with a grin, but she shakes her head.

          ❝ i like helping people, but i’m not doing this for anyone else. i’m doing this for me. i knew... i knew what would happen if i stayed here, but... i know it’s the best option for me. i feel like a lot of the decisions i’ve made have been for other people, but... i don’t think i can do that anymore. ❞

          she faces forward as she says it, but she can see dusk looking at her from the corner of her eye. he appears thoughtful, and he soon follows her gaze, though she can’t say she’s looking at anything in particular.

          ❝ as someone who makes decisions for himself and only himself, ❞ illumia scoffs, because that isn’t entirely true, but dusk continues as if he hasn’t heard her, ❝ i can say that making a decision based on what you want alone is a good one. especially one as productive as choosing to be a doctor. ❞

          ❝ thanks, dusky, ❞ she says, teasing him with the name vista has for him, then says more seriously, ❝ i appreciate it. ❞

          over the years, her definition of ❛ freedom ❜ has changed. it used to be about disobeying her parents and running off in the middle of the night, dirtying her clothes and feigning innocence if her mother caught the stains in the morning. now it’s so much more than that. something more powerful.

          freedom isn’t necessarily about breaking the rules ( though sometimes they are ). it’s about establishing your own rules and making your own decisions, of choosing your own path in life despite condescension from those around you. it’s having faith in your own decisions and learning to live without regrets.

          she still has a long way to go, she thinks, but she’s getting there.

#「♔」illumia farryn #「♔」illumia farryn | isms #「♔」illumia farryn | para #「♔」para #「♔」worldbuilding #i'm just gonna tag all of these as worldbuilding now idk

[anon-e-miss]

A Matter of Convenience

Operating the snack shack off the raceway served two purposes. It provided a steady source of secondary income for his mechlings, and it served as a cover for his less wholesome primary function. The Twins loved it. With their 'genitor operating the Shack, they raced for free, however often as they liked, and they took fill advantage. Jazz took advantage too, he was a speed demon, his creations were cautious by comparison.

All around, it was a good set up. Rather than get a license to serve engex, Jazz kept the Shack youngling friendly, he had the Twins to consider. Not serving intoxicants did not stop it from being a hip hang out, as he still brought live bands in to perform once an orn, and sometimes he performed as well. It had become a favourite spot for the district's younglings and families. When he had other places to be, he had a good manager to keep the place hopping, and when he was, it was time well spent with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. The Polihexian had memorized his regulars' favourites fuels and treats.

One such pair of regulars had been sitting in the stands for joors. It was odd for Smokescreen to not have brought Bluestreak up to hang while he drove a few circuits. Blue, despite being a few vorns younger that Jazz’s twins, was probably their best friend. His youngling brother was their sometimes sparkling minder, because though the Twins were no longer sparklings, they were still young yet to be left alone. Also Sideswipe would probably destroy the house. It was odd that Smokey had not driven a single race, and he had not bought them any fuel either. Suspicions having risen beyond tolerable levels, Jazz stepped out the staff entrance and jogged down the stand until he came the where the brothers were sitting.

"Gettin' late Smokey," Jazz said, keeping his tone light. "Not gonna run a race?"

"Can't," the youngling replied. "I don't want to waste the credits."

"Somethin' wrong?" The Polihexian asked.

"We ran away," Smokescreen explained.

"Fight with yer brother?" Jazz asked.

"No," the young Praxian said. "He lost his job and our place got scrapped thanks to some fuel leak."

"You lived in that dump?" The barmech asked. "Thought yer brother was an Enforcer. "

"Pay's not great," Smokescreen said and he shrugged his shoulders and doorwings. "Anyway he got canned. No job, no home, court said we had to go back to Praxus."

"Ya don't wanna, 'm guessin'," Jazz said.

"They're making us live with Origin's Conjunx Endura," the youngling replied. " That aft didn't want us around when they bonded and Origin shipped us off to Prowl. Without even telling Prowl we were coming. Now all of a sudden he wants us? Now that Origin is dead? Our 'genitor left us some credits. I think he just wants access. Prowl does too. He never touched our credits. He put it in stocks for us so we can go to university."

"'M sorry Smokey," Jazz said. "Ya can't stay here forever though. Y're gonna get hungry 'n cold."

"If we go back to the hotel, Prowl will walks us right to the transport," the youngling replied. "I don't wanna go back to Praxus. I don't wanna live with that slagger. The only time we ever spent time with him he screamed at Bluestreak and shoved me into a wall."

"Did ya tell the court that?" Jazz asked, feeling more urgency for the young mech's. "Or Prowl."

"The court doesn't care what I say," Smokescreen said. "Prowl said he'd petition to get custody back but it's not gonna be an easy deal. They're gonna want him to prove he's stable when Barricade's made him look like a walking defect."

"They're gonna come down hard on'm when ya don't turn up," barmech warned.

"That's why he doesn't know where we are,” the youngling replied. “So he can’t get in any trouble.”

“Tell ya what, the pair o’ ya can come to my place ‘n have a slumber party with the Twins for the dark-cycle,” Jazz said. “In the light-cycle, I’ll call y’re brother ‘n we’ll see if there’s anythin’ we can do.”

“Okay,” Smokescreen sighed. “What you think Blue?”

“Yes!” Bluestreak said, perking up for the first time since Jazz had come over. He deflated almost immediately. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

“I don’t wanna see go either,” the Polihexian replied. “Don’t fret. Everythin’ works out in the end.”

It probably would not, and Jazz was not in much of a position to help, but he was curious as to how the court came to the conclusion that sending the brother to live with a stranger was better than their brother. Sure, he had lost his job, and how and why were good questions, but the habsuite thing? How was it his fault that it collapsed after the ruptured fuel line caught fire. For Pit’s sake, he should have received remuneration for the fact his fragging home was destroyed. Obviously he had not taken the mechlings to live on the street, and they were clearly well fueled, so what was the panic? At the very least he should have been getting some income assistance while he looked for another job. Either Smokescreen only had part of the story, or Prowl needed a better lawyer.

“Come on mechlings,” Jazz said. “Twins are gonna be done their trainin’ session with ‘Hide ‘bout now. We’ll swing by ‘n gettin’em then head home.”

Prowl would be justified to be furious with Jazz, but since they had never met, the Polihexian was not particularly concerned with his ire. It was pretty fragging clear the mechlings did not want to leave him, or Iacon, and if Prowl did not know about the assault, then how could he have raised it? The situation was not hopeless, but it was not exactly promising. But if Jazz was not going to sit back and let these two mechlings get shipped off to a mech with a history of aggression, not happening, nope. Maybe he could hire the Praxian? Even just for a few quartexes while he looked for something else. So long as he had evidence of employment, that was something? Maybe?

None of this was his business but he liked Smokey, and the Twins loved Blue, heck they loved Smokey. Sides was thrilled to have a willing participant in his prank wars, and Sunny liked the break from his brother. Maybe Prowl was letting them, go. Maybe raising two mechlings was more than he wanted to deal with, but from what he had heard that did not sound right. According the the youngling, when Blue had memory-purges, the results of witnessing his ‘genitor’s death in a botched robbery, only Prowl could soothe him. And the point here was, would their origin’s widower bother? Probably not. It did not sound to Jazz like their origin had bothered.

“If they make us go to Praxus, I’ll just keep running away,” Smokescreen said when they stopped outside the gym where Ironhide trained the Twins. Mechansisms had questioned why Jazz had them training with the old warbuild. The answer was simple, they needed a safe outlet, and a safe way to learn. Ironhide had the touch. “I’ll live on the streets until I can make it on my own. I don’t care. I won’t live with Barricade.”

“Ya think it’ll be that bad?” Jazz asked.

“It was the last ‘cycle we were in Praxus,” the youngling explained. “Origin told me to stop acting like a little punk. His fragging Conjunx Endura calls Bluestreak a worthless little scraplet, and tries to put me through the wall, and I’m the punk? I was slagged right off, getting shipped to Iacon. I didn’t even know Prowl. I think I saw him once when ‘Genitor was alive. But I went because I figured it wouldn’t be worse. It wasn’t... Prowl’s a hard aft, but he never laid a digit on me. But the court doesn’t care what I say, Jazz. Barricade painted me like a pathological liar, and Prowl like a spastic glitch... They didn’t even let me talk... I should have a say, but they didn’t even let me talk.”

“Lemme see if I can’t talk to a friend o’ a friend, get an emergency stay,” the barmech said. “Don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ll give it a shot, okay? I don’t want y disappearin’ outta my suite this dark-cycle.”

“I won’t,” Smokescreen promised. “I’ll stay... Thanks.”

“Any time,” Jazz replied. He looped his servo over the youngling’s shoulders. “Might look bleak now, but when y’re trapped in a room with not door, ya just gotta make one.”

#a matter of convenience #marriage of convenience #jazz/prowl #obviously #maccadams #ficlet #fanfic #why do I do this to myself?

[lightblue-flower]

Love Lies - Prologue I

Summary: Arthur Kirkland is one of the most successful producers and DJ in the world. Known to the public as KING, he managed to dominate the EDM scene after his first year breaking into the mainstream. Unluckily for him, another DJ also broke through at the same time - French DJ and professional womanizer Jean Épine-, and after a bit of a snarky conversation and Jean winning first place on the DJMag Top 100, Arthur made it his mission to beat Jean at all the awards and become the real number one DJ.

That all changes when, after a few more years later, after the two always managing to keep the top two positions to themselves, newcomer Lars Jensen rocked the EDM scene by being the youngest DJ to win the title. Not wanting to disappear from the public eye and wanting to stay relevant, Arthur and Jean decide to collaborate on an album that would top the charts.

Little did either of them know that there would be more to their year together other than producing music…

A/N: Hey everyone! It’s been a long while since I posted a story here, and since I made a new account, I decided I’ll post my most recent works here- if you’re in the FrUk sphere, you may have heard of a small EDM/DJ AU that I really wanted to do so..I wrote it! I hope anyone who’s reading this will enjoy this chapter, I will try my best to update it (though it won’t be a long work), and thank you so much for just reading this piece! 

Pairing: FrUk (Main), Undecided small pairings (RoChu, NedPort)

Characters: KING/ Arthur Kirkland - England Jean Épine/ Francis Bonnefoy - France LUK∀S/ Lukas - Norway Matthias- Denmark, Tino - Finland, Berwald - Sweden Mei Xiao - Taiwan Camille Bonnefoy - Monaco Eduard Von Bock - Estonia Raivis- Latvia, Toris - Lithuania

Also Read Here: AO3

Prologue I

Click, click, click, click, click, click!

“King! Over here!”

Click, click, click, click, click, click!

“Smile for me, KING!”

The man was absolutely awestruck at his surroundings. The sudden flashes of the cameras lined up behind the barricade nearly blinded him as he stood on the carpet, trying his best not to squint too much as to not stupid in the photo.

The man was currently in Festhalle Frankfurt, the huge arena located in Frankfurt, Germany, where he was attending the MTV Europe Music Awards. See, this man was no ordinary man- he is now one of the rising names in the DJ and music producer scene internationally so far, and his popularity is only rising from there.

After meticulously and slowly doing DJ gigs from small bars to getting signed by Braginsky Entertainment , a small yet well connected management group, to doing EDM concerts in Europe, the man was able make his big break at the beginning of summer that year with the release of his EP Runaway , with the titular track breaking through to mainstream. He didn’t expect the success with Runaway would be as huge as it did, but it landed him nominations after nominations, and after actually winning Teens Choice Awards for best EDM Song, placing 20th on the DJMag 100 list, he went on to winning Best Breakthrough DJ from the DJ Awards in Ibiza.

Things were looking up for this man, and even though this was his first attending these sorts of events, he was sure that he would be at least in the top 10 in the 100 list next year.

“Arthur, come over here right now,” he heard a woman beckon from the side, a bit further back in order to allow other singers and attendees to pass them. Arthur sighed, as he trailed away towards a short woman with long brown hair, who was extending her tanned arms out towards him towards his neck. “How did you manage to loosen your tie again!”

“Why do I have to wear this stuffy suit, huh Mei? I didn’t have to wear this at the DJ Awards…”

“Because no photographers were allowed there,” Mei whispered sharply, her eyebrows pulled into a slight frown, though due to her voice having a high and sweet sound to it, it didn’t sound as threatening as she would have liked it to be. “If you keep up this good image when you go events, you’ll be taken more seriously by potential collaborators and artists, which would help you kickstart your album for next year.”

“We just finished the tour and we’re already talking about another EP…”

“This is what you were working towards Arthur! Producing your own music! And thanks to that mix, you now have to opportunity to make your way up to the top 10! That would only make your base bigger!”

What started as a hobby one afternoon when he was 20 in order to escape the dread of his everyday minimum-wage life in his small, cramped apartment his family of five shared, soon turn into a skyrocketing musical career ever since he started to upload mixes online. Arthur was originally in an indie rock band as a guitarist and backup vocals from secondary school until then, who did relatively well in the U.K., however, since their disbandment he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He didn’t want to go to university - something his parents wanted him to do- and he wanted to keep making music.

“Now, smile,” Mei said smoothly, her glossed lips turning up as a smile, as she mindlessly brushed Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur gave a smile, knowing that she was only thinking about what’s best for him - Mei was his manager since the day he signed on to the label.

Although at first, most people at the agency were hesitant to sign an inexperienced person on (at the age of 22, Arthur only performed in clubs and had few mixes to present), Mei felt that he could make it big, and immediately extended her help to Arthur. Arthur knew his hard work and endless hours poured into producing was what helped him on his way to success, though he admits that he’s as big as he is now because he Mei by his side, along with his agent and publicist, Yao Wang, who unfortunately couldn’t make it (or so he claims…Arthur knows he’s having another rendezvous with the CEO’s son).

It’s only been almost 1 year since he signed on, and he somehow managed to make his big break from a small record company. This kind of thing wasn’t unusual, but for someone to have such little experience before entering the industry, this was a pretty amazing feat.

Arthur strode down the red carpet, looking up and standing on one spot for photographers to take photos of him. Both hands in his pockets, he stood up straight and flashed a smile. He may not be the most attractive man attending the event, but he knew that his somewhat boyish, punkish charm is what wins the media’s heart. It clashes with the way he talks- with a delightful London accent that doesn’t sound too posh or too much like a chav- which gave him a somewhat gentlemanly air.

He eventually walked down the carpet, where he can hear the screams of the public being held behind the silver rails, and additional bodyguards holding some of the girls who were trying to lean over to touch the people that pass. Some could be heard slightly saying his stage name, but Arthur was still unsure how to handle fans, so he walked down to the area where the interviewers were standing, busily trying to interview as many of the attendees as they can.

“Hey, King! If it isn’t everyone’s favourite new DJ, how’s it going man?” Arthur was called over by a tall, young man with a dirty blond undercut, and a very who he recognized immediately as one of the most popular music reporter for the magazine Weekly Entertainment: Eduard Von Bock. Arthur has done a previous interview with him about his album in one of their issues (Mei knew Eduard personally, and was able to get him to interview Arthur) and the two encountered the other more during the festivals and events Arthur attended over the course of the year.

Edward was a decent man and was very level-headed, but the moment the camera is on he becomes the talkative, confident, and vibrant guy the internet loves to watch. He also tends to contribute to the magazine’s many gossipy articles claiming it was from ‘an anonymous source’, but everyone in the music industry knows that he’s the source and finds information first hand. Eduard has a way with words, and he could easily analyze whatever you say and find a hidden meaning behind your facial expressions- he knows just the right times to press on with questions.

Even though Mei trusts Eduard not to harass Arthur, Yao coached him on what to do when the press tries to badger you with personal questions- he especially made sure Arthur was prepared for Eduard’s questions, making him watch a few of his interviews and pointing out how to counter most of his questions.

“It’s been a while Eduard- I’m loving the white,” Arthur replied lightly as he approached the man, who was wearing a white suit black lapels and tie. He definitely stood out from the rest of the reporters. Arthur has seen him when he would be lounging around at his flat one time when Arthur tagged along with Mei as she tried to squeeze some intel about other potential competitors from Eduard. Eduard was mild with his outfits at home, with dark earthy hues as his usual palette- but that wouldn’t match his online character, and so he would wear these bright colours in order to grab the stars’ attention and to get an interview with them before anyone else.

“If it isn’t the one and only King!” Eduard smiled brightly as Arthur approached, shifting the microphone to his left hand and reaching out to shake Arthur’s hand with the other. “Good to see you, man, you’re looking quite snazzy with that suit. I didn’t think you’d be the type to wear something like this- you always wear jeans and shirts to your shows!”

“Well, this is the biggest music awards in Europe and I wanted to at least look as good and fancy as everyone else. Of course, I don’t look as handsome as you Eduard,” Arthur quipped back. “You need to give the rest of us a chance, you know!”

“Always with the compliments Arthur save it for the ladies,” Eduard replied with a cheeky grin. “I was just taking a break from the interviews and I’m starting it up again- it would be awesome to get an interview with one of the best DJs in the world so far.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m the best DJ,” Arthur laughed his comment off, wanting to appear humble. He can’t let his sudden success get into his head early on- he especially doesn’t want to give Eduard’s any reason to claim him to be arrogant and egotistical.

“Alright,  we’ll be going live soon, so get ready. Raivis, you steady the camera! Toris, how’s the audio?”

“Yessir!” The small man holding the camera said quickly, looking nervously as he fumbled to hold the camera over his shoulder, as another taller man handled a little pad and headphones, fidgeting with a metallic square.

“You’re going live, Eduard, in 3, 2,” the taller man said, mouthing ‘1’, and Eduard immediately had a much clearer and louder voice. “Ladies and gents, we are back on the MTV European Awards, standing on the red carpet, and I am currently joined by King, who is one of the most talked about DJs in the world. King, how do you feel being here in Frankfurt tonight?”

“Well, Eduard, I am very happy and grateful that I was able to have the opportunity to attend this award show- this is my first time at anything like this, and it’s really exciting being able to actually witness everything as it happens,” Arthur said cooly into the mic, give a small smile. “Everything is just so new to me, and I can’t wait to watch all the live performances.”

“That’s right, this is your first time attending the EMAs, and this year really boost your popularity with the release of your song “Runaway” during the summer allowing you to attend these sort of popular events. Not only is this your first year attending this sort of thing, but you’re also nominated for two awards, for both Best Electronic Artist and Best New Act award. Tell me, how do you feel being nominated in two categories during your first year attending this show?”

“Well, it’s certainly a lot of anticipation and pressure, because in Best Electronic Artist, I’m against veteran DJs who are amazing, and as a newer DJ I’m just happy being in the same category as they are.”

“Ah, but you’re also against newcomer Jean Épine for both awards. How do you feel having to compete against him again for Best New Act after winning Best Breakthrough Artist in Ibiza? Do you think you have a chance of winning again?”

This little shit starter , Arthur thought as he gritted his teeth upon hearing that name, and he could see Eduard’s eyes twinkle behind his glasses, ready for Arthur to say something.

“Look, we’re both here because we love to produce music and I think Jean Épine makes good music, but I don’t really care about winning the awards. It’s all about making the music and experiencing the journey,” Arthur replied, as Eduard did his usual end of the interview laugh and smile.

“Alright, well, thank you for talking with us King, we hope to see you on the stage!” With that, Eduard looked at the camera, a sign for Arthur to walk down the red carpet.

Arthur continued along while being stopped here and there for an interview from other magazines and entertainment channels. As it was approaching the start of the main event, Arthur found his way to his spot at the nosebleeds section reserved for artists, special guests, and participants in the award show. As he trailed along the railings, he managed to thread his way through the myriad of people standing around. He gave a quick hi to some familiar faces that came up to him and introduced themselves.

He didn’t make friends as easily as he should have, so he was grateful that people were mostly approaching him rather than the other way around.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the King himself!” Arthur turned around to the source of the voice, and immediately knew who it was from the high tone to the Danish accent. There were three men sitting around a table, all wearing casual, yet stylish, clothing, and Arthur felt a bit more relaxed seeing them. 

“I thought all of you were performing tonight. I was looking forward to Matthias’ singing!”

“You know you love my voice,” the one with his long yellow-blond hair pulled into a bit of spike replied - that being Matthias. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smirked, “If you bothered to read the itinerary, you’d know whether we’re performing or not.”

“I was too busy to read it- besides, it’d be nice be a bit surprised with the acts,” Arthur waved him off as he exchanged a quick handshake and hug with Matthia, happy to see him after a long while. He turned to the other two- one who was shorter than the other two with short, blond hair and the other one with shorter hair and glasses-, and did the same. “Tino, Berwald, it’s good to you lads. How was your tour?”

“Hm.” Berwald, the tall one with the glasses, nodded, while Tino laughed.

“We’re still really tired from it, but we didn’t want to miss the chance of hanging out with you and Lukas,” Tino said, his voice light with a Finnish accent. “It’s been too long since we’ve partied together!”

“Where is Lukas anyways? I didn’t see him when I was walking down the carpet?” Arthur asked, as Matthias allowed Arthur to slip between him and Tinos to sit down on the couch. “Is he also going to perform?”

“I texted him and he said he just arrived,”, Matthias replied, glancing over to his phone. “Though I don’t remember if he’s going to be performing right now.”

“No, he’s just going to be hosting until the Best Electronic Act portion in the middle of the night,” Tino replied, pulling his eyebrows down slightly, as if thinking. “And we’re presenting right after Jean Épine’s performance.”

Arthur pulled his lips in when he heard that name again.

“Jean Épine?” Berwald repeated with a monotone voice, before pausing momentarily. “…Who’s that.”

“Seriously Berwald! You’ve heard his track ‘X and O’ before, it was playing on the radio on our way here!” Matthias laughed.

“Your head’s always up in the clouds,” Tino sighed, taking a sip from the drink he had in his hand.

“That guy’s doing pretty good isn’t he? He’s already gotten an award at the VMA for that single,” Matthias replied. “Along with NRJ’s Best Single and Song of the Summer…”

The NRJ Awards are bias towards French DJs though , Arthur scoffed in his head, remembering Yao’s words about holding his tongue from saying anything about an award he could potentially win in the future.

“That’s crazy good compared to our first year in mainstream,” Matthias sighed, turning his face slightly up as he leaned back into the couch, a hand running through his blonde hair. “You and Jean are killing it on the charts. I’m kind of jealous…

“You two are already got nominated for both Best Electronic Artist Category and Best New Act!” Tino said cheerfully, in order to show support. “I’m sure one of you would win!”

“Hey, you guys are nominated for Electronic Artist too! You guys might have a better chance than me,” Arthur waved Tino’s comment politely with a kind smile, although he felt his ego boost by two folds.

Jean Épine…that’s all he’s been hearing about ever since his song started to climb up the charts.

One of the most talked about DJs in the world at the moment, Jean Épine is a French DJ that made his breakthrough that year with his hit song ‘X and O’ featuring one of the biggest pop singers in the world, RiRi. From what Arthur knew about him, he had been in the Parisian club scene much longer than Arthur, but only turned to producing songs that year, with much success from having a decent following from his mixes. Other than that, he didn’t know anything other than what he saw on magazines.

It’s true what Mathias said thought- both him and Jean Épine broke out into the mainstream around the same time, and rather than either of them one upping each other, their popularity skyrocketed at the same time.

Matthias, Tino, and Berwald all belong to the Scandinavian DJ group called The Aftermath- a name that they carried with them for the past three years since they started to make songs that were a hit with the public. Though, their first song didn’t nearly do as good as either Runaway or X and O.

Arthur never directly encountered Jean surprisingly- he only ever attended music festivals that year instead or reward show. Even so, Arthur knew he didn’t like the French DJ the moment he saw Jean Épine’s face on the cover of Weekly Entertainment. He was a man that was a few years older than Arthur, with long blond hair that he didn’t bother to tie back, with a light stubble along his jaw and chin, and small, yet beautiful blue eyes that were enclosed with long lashes. He had a smirk on his face that Arthur read as Jean saying, “ Yeah, I know I’m hot, what are you gonna do about it?” He wore a white and black style shirt with a blue jacket, and he had rings adorned on his fingers, along with a single gold chain tucked into his shirt. His black jeans were too tight for Arthur’s taste, and he wore very expensive trainers that must have been Christian Dior. Jean exudes sex appeal in his cover photo, and even more in the small photoshoot in the magazine itself

Arthur immediately did not like Jean. There was something about him the oozes narcissism, overconfidence, and arrogance. It didn’t help that Arthur had a feeling he was one of those rich kids that grew up with all the luxury in the world that this producing thing was just for fun, and he probably doesn’t even produce his own stuff.

Despite this subtle hatred from Arthur’s part,here were no rivalry between them, though, exemplified by Eduard’s interview, the media sort of attempted to make it seem like there could be one. They are never seen talking to each other, but really they never had the opportunity to.

Mei wants to introduce Arthur to Jean after this awards show though- Jean will be performing and attending The Aftermath’s after party that’s mostly for producers and DJs, and she wants them to be acquainted as soon as they can, much to Arthur’s dismay. Luckily, he hasn’t yet run into him, but he knows that he’ll have to see his stupid French face when he performed.

It won’t hurt to meet him, Arthur though, as the light started to go down, and the entire stadium went silent for a moment. Maybe we can even collaborate on a project.

The even started immediately, with the fans who attended the show in the front of the stage screaming when the first act went on. Arthur wasn’t prepared for all the excitement that he felt - it was much different being there than watching it on a tv screen. It was even more so exciting when he was one of the people that other scream and get excited about- this is how fame must feel like.

As the night progressed, their friend Lukas appeared on the stage. Arthur was, needless to say, impressed with how clean cut Lukas looked in his little navy blue suit and his wheat-blond hair being brushed back to show his baby blues. He still didn’t forget to wear his iconic silver cross clip in his hair, but he made it work with the rest of the outfit.

Lukas was a Norwegian DJ Arthur met through Matthias and his group. His stage name was simply his name stylized as LUK∀S- he was one of the lucky few who could use their actual name and make it sound cool enough to put on an album cover.

Imagine if Arthur put his name on an album- he doubts people would be interested in buying songs from a guy named Arthur Kirkland. That’s too posh and uptight of a name that didn’t scream ‘ I’m cool, I like to stay out late partying and drinking until I pass out! ’

Lukas presented a few awards alongside a well-known singer while giving a bit of a spiel for each of them. Finally, he said,

“And now I’ll be presenting this award before we get back into the performances. The Best Electronic Music Act!” People for the audience cheered as Lukas picked up a hin, metallic black envelope from the side of the stage, as the screen behind them lit up with a blue, pink, and yellow geometrical formation, and the pre-made video with all the artists that are nominated for the award appeared.

“ Best Electronic Music Act, ” A women’s voice said from the video, as she started to list the contestants. There were five people per nomination, and a snippet of their most popular music video of the year played. “ …The Aftermath…Jean Épine…KING .”

Arthur felt goosebumps on his arms as he saw his face appear from the music video for Runaway , and felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement well up in his chest. Despite what he thinks, he knows that he has a good chance of winning both awards tonights. He can’t wait to add this award to his list… it would be amazing if he managed to win all these awards in his first year.

“And the winner is…” The girl beside Lukas started, as she opened the envelope, before turning it around. In that millisecond, Arthur was ready to hear that one word, when he saw Lukas lean into the mic.

“Jean Épine!”

Screams and cheers could be heard as the stage lit a bit brighter shade of blue, and Arthur could the cameras attached around the balcony shift over to the main catwalk to the stage. He could hear Matthias wolf whistle, and Arthur forced himself to clap as a vague disappointment washed over him, but nothing too serious.

Jean Épine walked down the aisle, wearing a casual grey jacket with a long black shirt, and pants to suit it. He wasn’t as dressed up as Arthur, but he still looked good in what he was wearing- again, with the stupid rings and the chain kept hidden, and his long golden locks were pulled back into a low ponytail. He managed to look like he was walking out of a fashion catalogue, even while wearing the most ridiculous thing ever.

His song played in the background as he accepted the award, and he smiled that sweet smile. Arthur could hear most of the girls scream and swoon as he winked at a few near the stage. He shook hands and hugged both Lukas and the girl, before taking the award in his hand and the mic.

“Um, sorry if I don’t say this right,” Jean started, and Arthur realised for the first time that he actually never heard the man speak. Ever.

There was something seductive and romantic about his voice- the tone wasn’t too deep, but not too high. He had this weird fluidity, and his French accent, although thick, had this weird charm to it. There was a bit of a rasp to his voice, but it could be because of how he pronounced his ‘r’ in that French way.

“Thank you to all my fans for supporting my work,” Jean continued a bit slow, as if he was being careful with what he said. Arthur knew then and there that this must have been the first time Jean was speaking English publicly. He grew up in London - a very multicultural city in its own rights. There’s a thing most people do when they learn a new language where they look like their thinking about what to say and making sure not to say it in their own language- and that’s exactly what Jean was doing. “Et uhh, to my beautiful manager, Camille, for helping me with the album and supporting me with the making of it. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you Record Spinnings for allowing to continue to make music that I love, and thank you MTV for the award!”

Of course, more screams, and Arthur can tell that the girls must have been swooning over how cute he was for how careful and slow he was, and how charming his stupid French accent was. None of which Arthur found nice on him. If it were others, he would have been fine with, but there was something about watching Jean talk and the fans screaming that really…

 Annoying, Arthur thought trying so hard not to make any obviously annoyed faces, know that if the camera happened to zoom in on him, there’s going to be another supposed beef between him and Jean. And he was not ready to get into any celeb fights. Not this soon anyway.

 It was perfect ‘coincidence’ that Jean was performing soon after this award, because a good few minutes after Matthias, Tino, and Berwald left to go backstage to prepare for their performance, Jean Epine came back out on the stage to present his song with RiRi. The stage was set with a small disk jockey, as the lights started to dance to the beat of the music, and the singer, RiRi, came out looking as much of a fashion icon as she can. The crowd was completely hyped, and Arthur tried to enjoy it, but he was cringing at the excessive use of electronic sound to the song.

Arthur tended to be the type to merge a bit of piano and guitar into his piece instead of relying heavily on whatever Guitar Band rehash that every DJ abuses - hence why he doesn’t actively listen to Jean’s music in the first place.

The Aftermath went on soon after, and as the night rolled on, Arthur was caught up with all the amazing performances that he was disappointed when the show ended. But he knew the night was not quite over.

“Let’s have another drink!” Matthias exclaimed, as the cork from the champagne he held in his hands catapulted up to the dimly lit roof of the limousine they were in. Along with Lukas, Arthur had joined his mates to go to one of the after parties in Frankfurt- more specifically, the one The Aftermath was in charge of, but they were running a bit late thanks to Matthias’ Snapchat spree he did at the end of the event.

 Arthur texted Mei, who was waiting at the club and trusted him to get there in one piece.

 Remember, don’t drink before you get here! Mei had texted him, and Arthur consciously knew that he shouldn’t accept the glass Matthias was handing him, but his subconscious said he deserves to party after being stuck in the studio for so long and touring around Europe during the summer without properly partying.

One little drink won’t hurt, Arthur thought, taking a small sip from the glass, laughing along with the others as Matthias drunkenly sang along the pop songs that came on the radio.

Mattias had to get Berwald to help him out of the limousine, as Tino and Lukas trailed along with Arthur, who was a bit tipsy on his feet as he walked up the stairs to the doorway. The music was blaring, and the ground felt like it was shaking, but it must have been Arthur’s imagination. He couldn’t see much through the light fog that clung in the air, but he managed to make his way to the top floor with the others to were all the couches and tables were.

He managed to spot Mei near the little bar on the side and started to make his way over. As he approached Mei, he saw that she was talking to a young woman who was slightly taller than her, with peach skin and long blonde hair that was tied back in a French braid. She was definitely pretty, but she had a cold air to her, and her resting face didn’t help.

“King!” Mei exclaimed loud enough for him to hear, as he pulled Arthur into a gentle hug. “I want to introduce you to Camille Bonnefoy. She’s a manager at Record Spinnings!”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Bonnefoy,” Arthur courtly replied, reaching out his hand and shaking hers.

“Please, call me Camille,” the woman replied, and Arthur noted her slight French accent. She reminded him of someone - from the clear blue eyes to the dark blond hair-, but he wasn’t sure of whom…

“She’s Jean Épine’s manager,” Mei said to Arthur before he can open his mouth, and a sudden dread swept over him, the swirling around him intensifying. He really shouldn’t have drunk before coming here…did Matthias put something else in his drink? Or did he drink more than one glass?

“Well, you must be proud of his win tonight,” Arthur said, before muttering, “and of his subpar act.” Mei immediately pinched his back so he would straighten up and watch what he said, but luckily for her, Camille didn’t hear anything.

“Yes, he’s really surprised that he managed to win amongst all the other artists! But he worked really hard on his EP,” Camille smiled kindly. “I must say, King, I am a big fan of your EP as well. I wish I brought my copy for you to sign!”

She knows how to flatter you, Arthur though, though he didn’t mind that at all. At least someone is showing him a bit of love. Mei was good at that too- flattering other artists. It must come with being a manager. “I’ll be sure to send you one with my autograph.”

“Camille and I were talking about a possible collaboration between you and Jean Epine,” Mei started, as she took her glass of Sangria from the countertop. “But we wanted you two to meet.”

“Now, where is that guy- Jean?” Camille exclaimed into the crowd of other people, looking around, until she looked behind her, and sighed. “Always with the models… Jean vien ici!”

Arthur looked passed Camille, and lo and behold, Jean Épine was at a couch nearby, surrounded by a bunch of female models who had managed to make it on the invite list. He could see that the Frenchman was chattering away, and his hand gestures made it seem like he was flirting- a few of their smiles and laughter confirmed that he was, indeed, flirting.

When Camille called him over, Jean looked up. He didn’t make any sign of agitation, and instead stood up with a smile, told the girls something, gave another wink, and waltzed over to bar where the group was standing.

“Je veut t’introduire a Mei Xiao et KING, ” Camille said in French, and Arthur was slightly confused as to why. Thankfully he paid a bit of attention to French class from high school, but he knew Mei didn’t know a lick of French to save her in the streets of Paris. “Il est le nouveau DJ de Londres dont tout le monde parle. He’s the new London DJ everyone is talking about.>”

Jean looked up to Arthur, and Arthur sort of froze on the spot. There was something completely different when you looked at him in person, and it was completely different looking him in the eye rather than through a magazine cover. Arthur felt his heartbeat slightly, and he remained even more entranced when Jean broke into a warm smile and reached out for his hand. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Arthur quickly mumbled, not wanting to look like a baffoon, and shook his hand quickly. “You had a good performance tonight, and congratulations on winning your award.”

He heard Camille quickly translate exactly what Arthur said in French, and Jean nodded along, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Thank you,” Jean replied, and there was something about it that sounded incredibly sincere. But that vanished as soon as Jean let go, and he looked at Mei - and then that arrogant clint in his eyes returned, and he had more of a flirtatious smirk.

“Et vous aussi, mademoiselle,” he said and his voice turned smooth and low, taking Mei’s hand and planting a kiss.

Arthur was back to not liking Jean.

“Oh, oh, merci,” Mei said quickly with the only few French words she knew, a flustered look on her face, and she giggled like an idiot. Arthur was gravely disappointed with his manager- not even she can control herself around this man.

“Je savais pas que les femmes de Londres sont si belle,” he continued to Mei, who had no idea what he was saying, but Arthur knows what ‘femme’ and ‘belle’ means and put two and two together.

“Elle n’est pas interested,” Arthur suddenly mumbled close to Jean, knowing that he spoke some serious Franglish at that moment, but he just wanted him to get out of Mei’s face.

Jean laughed at what Arthur said, and leaned back, his smirk not leaving his face and pissing Arthur off greatly.

“Okay you two, me and Mei are going to go and talk some more business stuff, so have fun,” Camille said, and repeated it in French, before looping her arm around Mei’s, to escort her out of the area.

“Yao said he can pick you up and take you home,” Mei said before she started to walk away. “Make sure to call him! Have fun!”

“I will!” Arthur replied back as he watched Mei start to go down the staircases to the main floor.

Now it was just him and Jean Épine. No Mei. No Camille. And now that whatever he had in the limousine started to overtake his system, Arthur has no filter.

“Do you always flirt with any women or is that just a thing you French men do?” Arthur slurred as he leaned on the counter. Jean looked at him, and there was an expression of amusement on his face.

“Pardon?” Jean asked, as Arthur huffed.

“Right…you don’t understand English much, do you?” Arthur replied, a bit more clearer for him to hear him properly. Jean looked at him for a moment, thinking.

“I understand…but it’s harder to speak,” Jean replied, his silky smooth voice still sounding nice even when he’s struggling to talk. “I know more now than when I was…petit.”

“I thought they taught English in French schools?”

“Yes, but I didn’t need to learn it,” Jean continued, his voice a bit more sure, before his smirk returned. “Plenty of women don’t mind me speaking French.”

“So you’re that type, huh,” Arthur mumbled, glancing over at the table. One of the models was getting up and coming towards them. He then felt a bit annoyed and wanted to be a bit of a douche to him. “Did you get into DJing because you knew fame came with all the models and sex in the world?”

To this, Jean laughed. Then, it the clearest and most confident voice, “Well, at least one of us gets to experience it.”

Now Arthur knew that he did not like Jean at all.

The model that came up to them hooked her arm around Jean, saying, “Come on, let’s dance!”

“Oui,” Jean replied, and spoke a bit more of French.

Jean Épine turned around as the model dragged him along past Arthur, and he glanced back Arthur…only to give him that same stupid smirk he used on that magazine cover. Except now, Arthur read it additionally as “I know I’m hot, everyone wants me, and I’m the shit, what are you going to do about it?”

“See you around, little king,” he could hear him say, a bit of a teasing tone in his voice, and Arthur gritted his teeth.

What an ass! Arthur thought, wanting so bad to call him out, but Jean disappeared amongst the many other people in the club around them.

At that moment, Arthur swore he was going to be a better producer than motherfucking Jean Epine. He’ll even be number one next year on the DJMag Top 100!

Watch out Jean Épine, Arthur scoffed, before hearing Matthias calling him over from the bar. I’ll make you regret making a fool out of me…

And he’ll do exactly that.

Next

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