Isabel - Belgium
...
This fic is a clusterfuck and a mistake, and so is SuFin. But I'm having fun too. And I do love SuFin so much :D
Only a handful of people stayed after the show, milling about in the bar just off of the reception as the band packed up their instruments. Tino included, sipping on more water at the request of Eduard. The man himself had decided to go straight home to nurse the purple bruise on his forehead after convincing a dour Tino to come back in the mosh pit with him. Tino had subsequently - but accidentally - punched him into the stage. He did stop dancing in order to help his cousin though, naturally. 'Twilight of the Thunder God' was certainly a fitting song to chip a tooth to, in a way. Tino, meanwhile, was currently more preoccupied with wondering whose blood was now on his shirt. Probably Eduard's. He'd wanted to take his cousin to the hospital, but Eduard said it was fine and to stay.
Vidar and Tolli were next to him, bickering in a stream of Norwegian that he couldn't be bothered to follow, and at the table next to him was that dancing woman, with bright red lipstick and a brighter smile, in conversation with a man built like a tank. He actually looked like he could be at home here, in his black tank top and seemingly endless supply of muscles, but Tino still got the impression this wasn't quite his scene, less so than Miss Smiley and her pastel pink cat jumper.
They were the only five people waiting for the band.
Tino didn't think too much of it - the Screaming Pagans were new, but it was a little disappointing that no one else wanted to get their autographs, or a photo with the band. Tino was going to ask for both, nerves permitting. He'd like Berwald's phone number too, but was pretty certain that was too far fetched an outcome.
The second half of the show picked up after Tino had been pulled out of his mope, with good music and a bit of a laugh, and now he was nursing his little bottle of water and clutching his new Screaming Pagans t shirt, fresh in its plastic wrapper and not coming out until Tino himself was clean and sterilized. Or if the band agreed to sign it. Actually, would there actually be a pen that would show up on black material? Whatever, they could just sign the CD and poster he bought too. Berwald looked just as good on paper, and said poster would certainly find a nice home on his bedroom wall, somewhere where he could easily kiss the beautiful man goodnight.
He really needed to get out more.
"Hey, wow, thanks for waiting!" Gunner waved cheerily, closely followed by the rest of the band. They were sweaty, dishevelled, but absolutely glowing with energy. Berwald hung behind, eyeing Tino of all people with a stony glare. The fuck had he done now? Well, besides act like a complete dipshit for the whole evening.
He could kiss that number goodbye then.
"Good show," cooed cat jumper lady, scrambling up and running over to Adriaan and Luca. She pulled the pair of them into a crushing hug, ruffling Adriaan's hair and effectively ruining what looked like hard work. Adriaan seemed only half-annoyed at that, though.
"Thank you, Isabel," gasped Luca, patting her back gently as he tried not to get makeup on her jumper.
"Hey Luddy, did'ya enjoy the show?" The drummer, Gilbert, bounded over to the big muscly guy, ruffling his gelled hair, lightly punching his shoulder and laughing.
"Very good, yes," 'Luddy' sighed. "You've been practising hard, I see."
Gilbert beamed. "I try. Well, as you know, I don't really need to but just to make sure-"
"Little sloppy in places," admitted Luddy, "but I can let things slide."
"You certainly let a lot of beer slide down your throat."
"Glad you could make it though," Gunner practically boomed as he pulled Vidar and Tolli into a hug, "and you brought some friends too." He glanced at Tino and winked, before his sharp blue eyes began searching the room. "Where's the other guy?"
"He had to go home," Tino admitted, wondering just what he could do to make it up to Eduard.
Gunner nodded in understanding. "Got knocked about pretty bad, huh?"
Tino winced. "You saw that then?"
"Saw? If ya don't recall, I was standing on the stage you whacked him into."
"Sure he didn' mean ta." It took a moment for Tino to register just where that voice had come from. When Berwald talked, it certainly didn't have the same presence as his singing voice, although it was still rather beautiful, Tino would be willing to admit. His accent was heavier, and his mumble more pronounced. And now he'd come forward in Tino's defense? He was too stunned to reply. Partly because he was certain the man thought lesser of him, and partly because he'd just realised Berwald had the most beautiful eyes in existence.
He couldn't tell if they were a bluish-green, or a greenish-blue, but he would opt for the latter if he had to pick. They were like a mountain pool hit with the first whisper of dawn light; sunlight filtered through ice; an ocean, calm after a raging storm; a- damn right he could be a poet, his old high school teacher didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. Stupid Ms Nieminen.
"I didn't," he eventually squeaked out, "honest."
"Ah, we know," Gunner laughed, "just fucking with ya!"
"Hey, I'm going to - maybe - be reviewing your band so be careful who you fuck with." Tino took another swig of water, as if that would prove anything. He did want to prove to Berwald that he wasn't just some guy who flailed about like an obnoxious idiot, without a care for who he hurt.
"You're the blogger, then?" Gunner's eyes seemed to light up at that; "Vidar's told me all about you. Hope you have good things to say about us."
"Entirely! I really liked you guys," Tino's smile took a wicked turn, pushing his merch towards Gunner's side of the table, "you know, if you all sign my shit."
"Hey boys, get over here!" Gunner waved the rest of the band down, "get a pen and sign his shit!"
Berwald was the first to move, taking the pen Gunner held out to him and pausing just above the poster.
"Jus' sign your name," Gunner rolled his eyes, "I know we never get asked for autographs but it's not that hard."
Berwald grumbled to himself as he scribbled something in the corner of the poster, glaring at his own face so intently Tino feared the poster would burst into flames.
"Oh, and I'll need to ask a few questions, you know, about the band's history and stuff," he added.
Gunner nodded in understanding. "Talk to Berwald here," he patted his cousin's back, "he's our main guy. The band was his idea, after all."
"Oh?" A good or bad thing, Tino couldn't tell. At least he could actually exchange words with Berwald, and have those beautiful eyes glare at him.
The guy in question just nodded, a little awkwardly to be honest.
"Yeah, you two go for a walk while we sign," Gunner, grabbed the pen to scribble his own name and draw a dick and balls next to Berwald's face.
"Okay, but stick around because I'll want a photo with all of you." And with that, Tino tentatively took Berwald's arm and lead him outside. The air out in the open was chilly, but he didn't mind at all- hell, Tino barely noticed it half the time. Out in the car park, they were completely alone, a slight breeze playing with the sleeves of Berwald's t shirt. Tino wasn't too sure he liked how the guy looked in the half-light, face creased and scowling.
"So," he began, not wanting to waste any time, "how come you wanted to start a band in the first place?"
Berwald shrugged. Well this was going to go well.
Tino groaned. "Look, did I do something to offend you? Because you're looking at me like you wanna kill me and dump me in that skip over there. Whatever you have to say, you can just say it to my face. I'll understand. Sorry I was loud and stupid, earlier. I'm really embarrassed about that."
It was a full thirty seconds before Berwald seemed to find the right words to reply. "Fuckin' contacts are useless. Left m'glasses at home. Nearly blind now."
"Oh, so that's your regular face, or your blind face, at least;" Tino grimaced and Berwald nodded, "my bad." Berwald made a noise that might've been a chuckle. Tino might've joined in with that. "Look, sorry. I don't go out much. I'm not too good with communicating."
Berwald raised an eyebrow. Okay, pot kettle black.
"You're a great singer, though," Tino tried, playing with the corner of his own t shirt, "especially that first one, holy fuck." He decided not to mention the food-related imagery he'd come up with to describe Berwald's voice; that was too stupid.
"Gustavus Adolphus," Berwald nodded, "favourite 'storical figure."
"Oh? Yeah, he's… cool." Tino knew nothing about Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden that wasn't mentioned in the Sabaton song, and his one quick browse of Wikipedia.
"'Nd you?"
"Simo Häyhä!" There was no need to think about it, Tino had idolised the man since he was little. He'd almost wept the first time he listened to 'White Death'.
"Shoulda known."
"Because I'm Finnish?"
Another shrug.
Tino chewed on the inside of his mouth as he thought of something else to say. "I liked your versions of 'Swedish Pagans' and 'Leather Rebel' too." Or more specifically, how his plump, leather-clad ass rebelled against physics. For one horrifying moment, Tino had to recall if he'd just said that out loud.
Berwald just nodded, looking a little unsure of himself.
"I love your tats by the way," Tino reached a hand up to stroke his arm, but Berwald just flinched, a murderous glare thrown in Tino's direction.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled.
"S'fine," the glare had subsided now, slightly, "didn't see ya." He waved a hand on front of his face as a reminder. "Scared me a bit."
Tino didn't think anything could really scare Berwald as much as he could scare everyone else, but he didn't comment. "Oh. Well, can I see your arm then?"
"G'head." Berwald held out his elbow awkwardly, and Tino wasted no time in running a hand over his upper arm. God, it was like warm marble, smooth and solid. Secure too, Tino reckoned. He, for one, would feel completely safe with those arms wrapped around him.
"Wow! You must work out every day!" he exclaimed, and in the gloom he almost swore he caught a blush off the other- might have been his imagination though. Did a guy like Berwald even blush?
"And your tattoos too, so beautiful," he continued to gush. There was so much detail now he was up close, and even in the poor lighting he could see it must've taken hours - maybe even days - to ink. Then again, it had probably been nothing to someone like him. The guy looked like he ate pain for breakfast. Tino knew he was probably being a little creepy, but he just loved running the palm of his hand across that succulent tricep, feeling- hang on just a diddly darn moment!
"Are these tattoo sleeves?" asked Tino with a flat voice and dead eyes. The tattoos felt a little odd, and seemed to be moving when he brushed them. Berwald squirmed, giving a strangled noise that he took to be a confirmation. Tino pulled on the sleeve slightly, letting go and watching it snap back into place.
"Dun put that on yer blog..."
"Hey, your secret's safe with me," Tino gave him a warm smile as reassurance. "So… got any real ones?"
"Jörmungandr on m'back," Berwald pointed, though it was still hidden by his shirt. Oh boy would Tino be having a good look at that sometime, along with Berwald's back muscles. "Gunner has Fenrir and Vidar has Hel. Got them together."
"That's..." kinda weird, and a little dorky, "cute!"
"'Nd," Berwald paused abruptly, definitely blushing this time.
"Yes?" Tino drew out the word, a sly smile on his face.
"...Was drunk."
"A good story, then?"
Berwald buried his face in his hands. "Was Gunner's idea..."
Tino was going to kiss Gunner's boots. "Hey I'm not gonna judge. You can trust me with your secrets." He'd whisper those secrets back to him between the sheets of his bed, whatever the hell that meant. It was probably best to stop thinking such thoughts though, because skinny jeans would do absolutely nothing to hide the inevitable boner. Not that Berwald would be able to see it, thankfully.
"I-" Berwald whined, "I h've 'how deep is yer love' tattooed on m'butt… in runic alphabet."
Holy fuck. Was he serious? Tino definitely wanted to take a look at that one. "Really? Oh my gosh, that's so funny!" He gave Berwald's hand a squeeze when the man resorted to embarrassed mumbling. "We all do stupid shit when we're drunk, and it's a pretty funny place to have that written."
"What about you?"
"I'd say around fourteen centimetres."
"N' do ya have tattoos?"
Fuck. He was a complete idiot. "Oh, nah. Not yet." He'd not found the right one. There were a lot of good tattoos out there and he was only little. Wide, but still little.
"So," Berwald glanced around, "waddya want to ask me?"
Oh right, the interview. Well, despite being still rather shitfaced, he'd handled things reasonably well so far so this interview would be a piece of-
"Well, for starters, you can sign my tits."
Okay, never mind. His brain and mouth were still apparently running on different engines and the mouth engine was faulty and haywire. Would he get away with vaulting across the car park, changing his name and moving to Timbuktu? Probably not. He could've said stupider, but Tino certainly wasn't happy about it.
Berwald almost smiled at that. "Y'know, I heard of rockstars getting asked that; never thought I'd get asked m'self."
"And by a sweaty fat guy of all people," Tino laughed. Feeling emboldened from Berwald's response, he lifted up his shirt; "pick a moob, then; I promise I'm not one of those creepy stalker fans."
Luckily, Berwald still had a spare felt tip in his back pocket. However, he still seemed a little nervous, and unsure, about what he was supposed to do. "Should I-"
"Just write your name, sweetie."
"Mm."
"And maybe your phone number too."
"Huh?"
"I mean-" why did he do this to himself? What was it about this guy that made Tino lose all sense of shame? "I'd like to hang out sometime," he tried instead, "you seem cool."
"Cool?" Okay, Berwald definitely smiled at that.
"Yeah," and Tino was definitely blushing, "like, really cool."
New talent right on my doorstep?
25th August, 2017- thefinnishbear
The Screaming Pagans are an Uppsala-based folk metal band formed by maternal cousins Berwald Fredrik Gustavus Oxenstjärna and Gunner Axel Densen in their grandfather's garage, during their time at university. They were later joined by Gilbert Beilschmidt and brothers Adriaan and Luca Morgens, who form the current lineup. Oxenstjärna's powerful voice is accompanied by Densen's superb guitar skills and talented keyboard playing from L. Morgens. And of course, how can we leave out the bass and drums? Beilschmidt and A. Morgens keep the rhythm going and are not to be forgotten!
Until recently, they regarded themselves as a cover band, but last night I had the pleasure of hearing their first live performance featuring original songs, which Densen and Oxenstjärna inform me they've been working on for several years beforehand. The pair have shown themselves - to me, at least - to be more than passionate about researching and perfecting their songs, and have a keen interest in Norse mythology and the Vikings.
All five of the band's members tell me they recently moved to Stockholm to further their collective careers, and I hear they plan to keep playing in the city until they're big enough to tour the country - and eventually Europe and the rest of the world! I honestly think they can do it - they're a likeable bunch of lads and have the passion and talent to go far in this industry.
I hope you Stockholm-based readers will look out for them in the coming months, and that you'll grow to love them as much as I do. Let's support this fresh talent - and any other overshadowed talent we come across in future.
Manly hugs and kisses,
Tino V xxx
PS. I have the lead singer's number, get jealous bitches ;P
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I promise that not every chapter will contain Tino talking about his moobs. Just most of them.
I know it wasn't mentioned all that much, but here's the setlist for the second half:
Hunting Pirates- Turias
Luxtos- Eluveitie
Nehalennia- Heidevolk
Vodka- Korpiklaani
Poltava- Sabaton
Wolf and Raven- Sonata Arctica
Leather Rebel- Judas Priest
Swedish Pagans- Sabaton
Twilight of the Thunder God - Amon Amarth