Beckham Mikhail Federov

Nothing sexier than a man in tights

[beckhamsandwhich]

Showcase weekends at the studio were always a  bit stressful for Beck. Truly, this was when he was most grateful for his partner that thrived in these sort of scenarios. When it came to teaching technique, choreographing dances, cutting music, he had all of that down pat. But when it came to sprucing up the studio, decorating, and interacting with the parents? He much preferred to take a back seat there. 

Which likely explained his frazzled appearance, yes even moreso than usual, as he perched precariously on a swivel chair in the lobby, streamers tangled around his legs. “Hey, Wylie! Could I maybe get a hand over here?!” he called out through the rooms, weebling slightly as he attempted to untangle himself. 

@ofmcthman​

[beckhamsandwhich]

ofhellview​:

open starter for @liminalstart​  location: the local bar that also allows bands to play there

Mick had big dreams, and those big dreams were more often than not funded by his father.  What this meant, at the end of the day, was that he was just another wanna be guitar player with a nice voice, a cute face, and he knew it.  While his band had just wrapped up the set, he bounded to the bar, quickly sliding into the first available spot he saw, flashing a quick grin at whoever had been sitting next to it.

“Hey - hope you don’t mind, I’m parched.”  Quickly ordering a beer, he swiveled back to his new companion.  “So what did you think?”

For someone that didn’t drink, Beckham found himself at bars quite often. An ardent supporter of local arts, he made a point to try to see local bands play. And, somewhat unfortunately for him, fledgling bands usually got their starts in bars.  Which explains why he was there now, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a diet coke, when the energetic guitarist bounded up into the seat next to him. 

“No worries, my man.” he stammered, somewhat awkwardly, at the speed of the approach. “Uh, I thought it was solid! I mean, you’ve certainly got some skill. Were those mostly original songs or covers”

[beckhamsandwhich]

ofhellview​:

open starter for @liminalstart​  location: the local bar that also allows bands to play there

Mick had big dreams, and those big dreams were more often than not funded by his father.  What this meant, at the end of the day, was that he was just another wanna be guitar player with a nice voice, a cute face, and he knew it.  While his band had just wrapped up the set, he bounded to the bar, quickly sliding into the first available spot he saw, flashing a quick grin at whoever had been sitting next to it.

“Hey - hope you don’t mind, I’m parched.”  Quickly ordering a beer, he swiveled back to his new companion.  “So what did you think?”

Beckham didn’t drink, so it was weird that he found himself at bars so often. However, he was a proud connoisseur of the local music scene, making a point to support the arts in all facets. And, more often than not, fledgling local bands were playing in bars. So, there he was, perched alone at the bar nursing a diet coke, when the energetic guitarist bounded up next to him. 

“Oh, uh no worries” he chuckled awkwardly, taken aback by the speed of the interaction. “I mean, it was a solid set. The drummer was a little off tempo, no offense. You were on point though. Very solid playing. How long have you guys been playing together? “

[beckhamsandwhich]

bustedbucket​:

OPEN!

who: literally anyone ( @liminalstart​ )

where: a centralia dive bar

          SWEAT BEADS ACROSS A FOREHEAD plastered with dark, damp and matted bangs as an overheated guitarist ducks out through the side door of a tiny dive bar and sucks in a breath. he doesn’t know why he’d gone and been so stupid as to expect fresh air, anything cooler than the absolute boiler room he’d just stepped out of ; maybe he was hoping that the lack of sunlight might knock the temperature down at least a few degrees, that the oppressive heat might have eased into something, if balmy, at least a little more comfortable. he’s wrong. and, completely drenched after what’s arguably the world’s shortest set, kelly wastes little time in shrugging out of his jacket, tossing the damp article of clothing over the nearest trash can.  ( as if that’s better than the ground. if it is, it’s not by much, that’s for damn sure. )  ❝ goddamn, it’s hotter than the devil’s dick out here ! ❞ he groans to no one in particular. hands smack wildly at pockets before landing on his back left and fishing out a crumpled soft-pack of marlboro reds. it’s only after he’s got one between his lips that he discovers he’s lost something very important and he huffs a sigh, looks around before dark irises land on the only other person within earshot.  ❝ oh, fuck me. hey ! you got a light by chance ? ❞

“Well, you’d certainly know. If anyone’s sucked the devil off a few times, it’d be you, big man.” The friend teased. He did his best to make it to as many of Kelly’s sets as possible. After all, he knew how it felt to not have your friends support your art. So, whenever his nights off and Kelly’s sets aligned, he made a point to be there. Even if the venues sometimes left a bit to be desired. “You’re lucky I came from rehearsal, dipshit.” he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and tossed it in the other man’s direction. “You’d think someone with a habit like yours would remember such a crucial ingredient. Maybe that’s your sign. Start vaping.That’s what the cool kids do now, right?”