#my favorite living rock guitarist with my favorite living rock singer

[steddiealltheway]

Rockstar AU in which Corroded Coffin is slowly becoming more and more famous to the point that Dustin and Mike are STRESSING that after this next concert, the tickets will go through the roof with their pricing. So they have to go now.

Lucas isn’t as big of a fan, but he still wants to go. And Will takes any opportunity he can to hang out with Mike so he joins in on the need to go.

They all realize that they can’t drive, and someone will have to take them.

So they go about nagging Nancy who outright refuses no matter what they bribe her with. Jonathan apologizes because he has work that night and can’t call out.

All the boys agree that there’s no way they’re asking their parents.

Dustin reluctantly offers up Steve as their last option.

“No fucking way!” Mike yells. “He’s so fucking lame and probably doesn’t even know what Corroded Coffin is! I’d rather have my mom take us!”

Lucas points out that if Mrs. Wheeler goes, she will tell all the other moms about it, and the lead singer and guitarist Eddie Munson is known for his… unhinged theatrics.

Will hesitantly says, “I wouldn’t mind if Steve goes with us.”

Mike’s eyes snap to him. Will shrugs. Dustin prays that this will be enough.

“Fine.” Mike gives up. “But if they kick us out because of him, I’ll never let you live this down!”

“Mike, that doesn’t even make sense,” Lucas comments.

“He hasn’t even agreed yet,” Dustin reminds them, already heading out the door to ride over to Steve’s and ask. The others trail behind him.

“Like he’ll have any other plans,” Mike sneers.

The ride over is filled with Mike making rude remarks and the other boys asking what his fucking problem is.

“I just don’t want Eddie thinking we’re lame!” He finally confesses, praying that the cool air is enough to blame for the flush on his face.

Will catches his eye, and Mike nearly falls off his bike. Luckily, he can play it off since they’ve made it to Steve’s.

Dustin is ushered forward because he’s the favorite. He knocks and Steve almost immediately answers.

“Steve! Dude! How are-”

“Nope,” Steve immediately says, jutting his hip out, leaning against the doorframe.

Dustin gapes. “I didn’t even ask anything.”

Steve crosses his arms and looks around the group. “I know that look. It’s the ‘we need a babysitter’ look. I’m not doing it this time.”

Dustin pushes past him and the others follow behind him into the house.

“Hey hey hey! I didn’t even- take off your shoes at least!” Steve yells after them.

Will already has his shoes off while Mike rolls his eyes at Steve, begrudgingly taking his shoes off. Lucas apologizes. Dustin doesn’t even bother to untie his shoes.

“You have to take us to this concert. You owe me,” Dustin says.

“Owe you for what?”

“For… for telling me my hair looked good at the snowball dance!” Dustin exclaims proudly, complimenting himself on his improvisation skills.

All the other boys rapidly agree with Dustin while Steve tries to argue that it did look good. The conversation derails quickly into a general argument until Mike unexpectedly speaks up, “Alright! Enough.”

He digs through his backpack with alarming urgency and pulls out a picture of… Eddie Munson?

“We need to see him. This may be our only chance! And when I tell you that you were my last option, I mean that you were my last option. I would rather have my fucking dad take us! But they insisted it be you. You have to understand that begging you like this- this is rock bottom for me. But I beg you. Please take us,” Mike finish dramatically thrusting the picture into Steve’s hands.

“Dude, why the fuck do you have a picture of Eddie Munson in your backpack?” Dustin asks and the other boys join in egging him on.

They’re all oblivious to Steve’s little crisis over the image of the metalhead until he suddenly announces, “I’ll do it. I’ll take you guys.”

Dustin immediately yells and hugs him. Lucas and Will hug each other as Mike snatches the image back and stuffs it into his backpack again - face beet red.

“Wait, when is it?” Steve asks breaking the hug.

Dustin stammers out a few, “Well, it’s funny that you asks… so funny actually. Hilarious. Funniest thing I’ve heard all day…” All the boys make their way to the front door.

“Dustin…”

“It’s tomorrow night at ten! We’ll be here at nine!” Dustin yells immediately rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

The boys all laugh as the rush to their bikes, hearing Steve yell, “Always the goddamn babysitter!”

-:-:-:-:-:-

Nevertheless, Steve rushes into his car at 9:05, while Dustin and Mike scream that they’re going to be late as if it’s the end of the world. About ten minutes into the ride, Mike finally notices what Steve is wearing.

“Uh, Steve. Please tell me you have something on under that,” Mike groans.

Steve glances down at his yellow sweater and asks, “What’s wrong with this?”

This sends Mike spiraling while Dustin laughs, “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

Steve shakes his head. Dustin joins in with Mike’s breakdown.

When they get there, Steve realizes what they mean. In the venue - that is on the surprisingly smaller side - there isn’t a single person who isn’t sporting either a t-shirt from the latest album Hellfire or wearing all black.

Steve sticks out like a sore thumb. The people around him give him looks, but he doesn’t really care since he’s never heard of Corroded Coffin. Besides, with him standing a few rows away from the stage, there’s no way the band would spot him.

The opening band is alright and gets the crowd really going to the point where Steve can see why none of the kids wanted one of their parents to bring them. He gets lost in the general vibe of the place, reminding him of a way more intense version of the big high school parties he used to go to. He knows Dustin would kick him in the shins if he told him that.

Once the opening band walks off stage, the lights go out, startling the audience. “What the hell-” Dustin says before loud chords play out with a flash of lights.

Steve catches Will and Mike holding hands in one flash and in the next they’ve broken away with red faces.

Steve would laugh fondly at the pair, if there wasn’t a sudden spotlight on Eddie Munson. And fuck he’s gorgeous. His eyes flicker over the crowd, and Steve swears that his eyes narrow when he looks toward him, but there’s no way he can see anything in the spotlight.

He sings into the mic, and Steve’s heart beats a little faster. Thank you kids for making him take them here.

A few songs in, Steve is relaxing into the music which isn’t his usual taste, but there’s something about Eddie that… makes him want to hear more.

There’s an odd pause between songs when Eddie begins talking to the audience. He pulls his hair in front of his mouth and is… oddly adorable. He seems to get flustered by the crowd while simultaneously radiating with all the praise.

He introduces each band mate and gives them a look before saying, “They’re going to kill me for this, but we’re going to do something new tonight.”

One member - Gareth - gives Eddie a look like not again.

The audience waits in anticipation for Eddie to announce whatever scheme he’s thought up. “Ladies, gentlemen, and everything beyond and in between… we’re going to invite someone to the stage.”

Steve laughs as Mike and Dustin fight to get Eddie’s attention.

Eddie takes his time, holding his hand above his eyes to block out the stage lights and actually observe the audience. Eddie laughs darkly into the mic. “I won’t lie to you guys. I had this person picked out from the moment I saw him. Welcome Mr. Yellow Sweater to the stage!”

Steve’s heart drops in his chest and everyone around him turns to him as if they’re going to murder him - especially Mike. Dustin, Lucas, and Will, on the other hand, excitedly shove him along, ushering him to the stage.

Steve makes his way to the edge of the stage and looks up to see Eddie holding his hand out. Steve takes it and perfectly scales the stage, ending up right up in Eddie Munson’s personal space. “Well, hello there, pretty boy. What’s your name?”

Steve is thankful that only he can hear Eddie’s words. “Steve,” he manages to choke out.

“Steve, please tell me you spilled something on your shirt and this was the only thing left for you to wear,” Eddie says.

Steve looks down at his sweater once again because hey, what’s wrong with his sweater? He shakes his head.

“You keep getting better and better…” Eddie looks him up and down.

The drummer yells, “Eddie! The fans are getting restless. Get on with whatever this is!”

Eddie shoots him a apologetic look and tugs Steve towards the microphone. “Everyone, meet Steve the exact person I pictured when writing this song.” The crowd begins screaming as a few notes ring out. Steve has never heard this song in his life but it somehow sounds familiar.

Eddie pulls a stool forward and whispers, “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

Steve immediately sits down and prays that his face isn’t as red as he imagines it to be. Eddie shamelessly eyes him up and down as he sings some song about a place like Hell called The Upside Down with demobats, strange vines, and what sounds like the budding romance with a stranger.

It’s weird as fuck, but somehow Steve just gets it.

As the final notes ring out, Eddie looks off as if he’s recalling some memory or trying too. He shakes his head and says to the audience, “Let’s give another round of the applause to the poor soul I dragged up here.” The audience roars with applause that confuses the shit out of Steve, but luckily it drowns out Eddie saying in Steve’s ear, “Meet me after the show at the back right door.” He cocks his head towards the back at Steve’s left.

Steve immediately replies, “Okay, but I have four kids with me.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“They’re my… friends.”

Eddie stares at him in disbelief and huffs out a laugh. “You’re full of surprises, Steve. I’m happy to meet them.”

Steve nods at him not knowing what else to do and makes his way to the edge of the stage and hops down. As he makes his way back to the kids he can’t help but think what the fuck just happened.

All the boys are yelling, asking what he said to him and why did he choose him and is he nice and…

“He said he wants to meet us after the show,” Steve says first.

“What did you say to him?!” Mike shouts.

“I told him that we couldn’t because Wheeler here has a strict bedtime.”

All the boys’ jaws drop, and Steve is actually afraid Mike will murder him. “I’m kidding. I said we would,” Steve says nonchalantly leaving out the part where Eddie had rendered him speechless after asking to just see him.

The rest of the concert passes pretty quickly, and Steve tries not to get his hopes up that the winks Eddie gives the audience are all directed at him.

As Eddie wishes everyone a goodnight and makes his way off stage, Steve’s heart starts pounding in his chest. Mike and Dustin are frantically trying to appear cooler than they are while Lucas and Will try to muffle their laughter. Steve guides them towards where Eddie had told him to go, going directly against the flow of everyone exiting the venue. 

Steve looks around, making sure no one else is following them and pushes the door. It swings open and Steve steps through expecting some sort of security to be blocking him but… there’s no one.

There’s a loud shout of “Holy fucking shit!” chanted over and over again down the hall, with more people joining in. Steve follows the noise cautiously until he gets to a door that is slightly cracked. Sounds of squealing, laughter, and floorboards creaking - from what sounds like people jumping up and down - ring out through the crack.

Steve pushes the door open and is met with a startled shout that comes from none other than Eddie Munson. “Man, you’ve got to get better security in this place,” Steve says without thinking but Eddie’s bandmates are nodding in agreement and shouting out things like “That’s what we’ve been telling him!”

Dustin pushes past Steve and gets down on one knee to bow and say, “My lord,” he stands up and continues, “I am Dustin Henderson. Huge fan.” He holds out his hand and giggles as Eddie bows back and shakes it. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Dustin. Never change.”

Dustin’s smile widens into what is an almost terrifying grin of joy. Steve turns to find Mike gaping at Eddie, frozen in place. 

Eddie smiles at Mike and asks, “And you are?”

“Mike,” the boy chokes out. He clears his throat. “Mike Wheeler.”

“Good to meet you, man,” Eddie says, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

Steve’s heart warms at the interactions, he turns around to find Will and Lucas nearly hiding behind him. He nearly tells them to get a grip, but he knows what it’s like being under Eddie’s gaze for the first time and can’t blame them.

“Eddie, this is Will and Lucas,” Steve introduces them as if Eddie’s one of his friends or something. 

Will blushes when Eddie shakes his hand, and Lucas makes a comment about loving his work which Eddie thanks him for.

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can’t wait to speak to you guys more, but I’m going to request a few minutes with Steve here. If that’s alright?” Eddie holds eye contact with Steve who looks at the other kids first - who are all urging him to say yes with their eyes - then he nods his confirmation. Eddie tries to hold back a smile. “I hope the rest of my band can provide entertainment that isn’t lame.”

“Hey, fuck you, man! What do you mean your band?!” Is the general response from the other members before the four boys are firing questions at them.

Eddie pulls Steve into a small dressing room and closes the door. Steve doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it certainly isn’t Eddie’s response. “I’m so sorry, dude. I- I don’t what came over me up there,” Eddie’s face has dropped and he’s fidgeting with his rings looking endearingly awkward. He continues pacing and going on, “I just saw you, and, really, stage Eddie is a huge flirt, but I’ve never singled someone out like that before. And you clearly aren’t even a fan. Are you a fan?” Eddie questions, eyes narrowed, invading Steve’s personal space.

“I am now,” Steve replies, glad that his charm has suddenly made a reappearance. Eddie blushes and he pulls a strand of hair in front his face. Steve finds him absolutely adorable. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize... again. You’re just... so familiar, and I needed a closer look. Because... I meant what I said about you. You’re exactly who I pictured and... Fuck, I’m coming on way too strong right now.” Eddie sits down in an uncomfortable looking foldable chair, burying his face in his hands.

“You know,” Steve says slowly approaching Eddie, “I hadn’t even heard of you or your band before those kids showed up at my door yesterday.”

Eddie sarcastically replies, “Thanks.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, that- that’s not what I mean. I mean... I almost didn’t take them here. I truly didn’t want to.”

Eddie looks up and smiles amusedly at Steve. “You’re really digging yourself a deeper hole right now.”

“I-” Steve sighs and grabs the chair closest to him, drags it directly in front of Eddie, and immediately sits across from him, so they’re eye to eye. “I wasn’t going to until Mike showed me a picture of you. And something in me told me I needed to go; you know? That I somehow had to meet you. And that song, man, it was so fucking weird-” Eddie snorts. Steve continues, “But I understood everything you were saying as if it was... weird deja vu or something. I don’t know.”

Eddie holds eye contact with him for a few moments, searching his eyes for any lies. He shakes his head and sighs, “I know exactly what you mean. But maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Maybe,” Steve replies. He boldly grabs Eddie’s hands and holds them in his. He glances down at their hands and smiles. Then, he catches sight of his watch and more specifically the time. He shoots up. “Shit! I have to go. The kids’ parents are going to absolutely kill me if we don’t head back soon.”

Eddie stands and nods at Steve. Neither of them wants to leave each other’s company. Steve frantically looks around and spots a pen. He scribbles his home number onto Eddie’s arm and rushes out of the room. “Guys, we need to head out.”

“What? Why?” Mike asks, and man that kid needs to keep that attitude in check.

“Check the time,” Steve suggests. The boys look at their watches.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dustin says then turns dramatically towards the group. “Gentlemen, it was lovely meeting you, I can’t wait to see you again one day.” He nods his head and rushes out the door. The other boys hurriedly say their goodbyes and rush out. 

Steve holds eye contact with Eddie for a moment then hurries after the boys. He wonders when he will call. 

(Oh gosh... is this... unfinished??? I meant to finish it. Anyways, Eddie definitely calls Steve and when they meet up again Steve is like “How the hell do you still have my number on your arm?” and Eddie nonchalantly replies, “I got it tattooed so I wouldn’t lose it.”)

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #slight byler #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie rockstar au #homophobia doesn't exist in this universe #simply does not

[zivazivc]

What kind of nu metal music fits Les's band?

First of all I gotta clarify that I sent this ask myself because I accidentally lost the original through constant editing and drafting. I realize I could just make a regular text post but I'm quirky like that, and a question is a nice little attention grabber for those who are interested.

Anyway...

It's hard to point at one song and say this is their sound, because A: I'm picky, B: the band's style changes over time, and C: I don't know what I'm doing lmao

This answer is very long uhh I don't seem to be able to form short responses, mi scusi 😅

Back at home the brothers' music and then also the first year on the road with Flea the band sounds like the albums Music and especially Grassroots by 311. (Grassroots is such a banger of an album, I listen to it all the time, really recommend.)

Hed's the main influence on the band's sound because he's the main vocalist, songwriter and overall the most invested in the band succeeding (Les's main concern is making ends meet, and Flea is just enjoying the ride lol). At the start Hed and Les have had basically no contact with Rock Trolls so even though they're both more metal/punk than regular rock, their "rock side" is softer at this point. Hed also grew up with hip hop because of his peers so there's a lot of rapping in his lyrics. And he also incorporates reggae into his style a lot because of his favorite uncle, Kymani (one of the guys who live with Ish) who is a Reggae Troll. Hed is pretty much a sponge when it comes to music, much like Floyd. The closest I can come to describing his genre is a fusion of Rap Metal and Reggae Rock which are both already fusion genres jskksdjsk

(The band 311 has two singers and oddly they both sound like Hed and Les to me. SA Martinez (the higher of the two voices) sounds 100%, exactly like how I've imagined Hed's voice in my head. For Les I have a different voice claim because Les's personal style of music is much different from the band, but Nick Hexum (the lead vocalist here) is still in the second place when it comes to voice alone. Imagine my enthusiastic surprise finding voices for both brothers in the same band 😄)

examples from the two albums:

...

While driving around and performing small gigs they come in contact with the alternative and nu metal scene and meet a lot of Rock Trolls (mostly various Metal Trolls) and other mixed trolls, and in the following couple of years their sound gradually becomes heavier (Hed rediscovers screamo lol) and they go from rock to metal.

A year into their "touring" is also around the time Hed meets and starts dating Liv and gets her to join the band. Liv's genre has the heaviest sound of all of them (Industrial/EBM), which influences Hed and the band too. And with Liv on the drums, Hed takes over DJ-ing and is also able to put more focus on the vocals, which also makes Les step down and only sing backing vocals with the rest of the band if needed.

The band in this era sounds like the album Revolution by Insolence and to some degree Introduction to Mayhem by Primer 55.

examples from the albums:

...

Two years into the bands existence is when Floyd runs into them. At first he's more just standing there, observing their practices and performances warily, because he's had bad experiences with Rock Trolls in his one year alone and metal music still kinda freaks him out at this point. But he soon starts joining in in melodic parts and then it progresses into him singing longer and longer segments because he has the strongest vocals of everyone. And once he saves enough of his earnings for a guitar he starts playing the rhythm guitar too. (The guitar he took with him when he left the Troll Tree got stolen before he met the band.)

I guess I should clarify: Flea is the lead guitarist, Les is the bassist, and Liv and Hed switch on the drums and DJ-ing depending on the track. At one point they also get a keyboard.

It's also not that long before Hed and Floyd start actively writing songs together, sharing each others notes, and they start to split the singing parts more evenly. Hed even teaches Floyd screamo techniques, because he thinks Floyd has a great voice for them (He is correct, Floyd has a mean scream 😁).

During this time the band still pretty much sounds like Revolution by Insolence but with more melodic singing parts from Floyd (and screaming/shouting lmao). I think Verge of Umbra is another good band to compare, it sounds more clean and Floydy but still Hedy. (Man, I should write scientific research papers skjdkjf)

↑↑↑ song with the lyrics from the drawing at the top

From here on out I'm a bit unsure how the band's sound develops, but I'm pretty sure Floyd would unintentionally infect them with a mild case of radio friendliness (Pop trolls can't help their in your face nature lmao 😞). So for now I'm stopping here...

This took me days of searching and writing so I would appreciate to hear any thoughts you have if you've come this far and given some of the songs a listen. :)

#i spent way too much time on this rip #but i'm happy i did all the research bc now i have an album to point to that sounds a lot like what i had in my mind for the band #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls floyd #trolls oc #ex bandmates #hed #les #liv #flea #answered #my art #long post #music #nu metal #alternative metal #insolence #insolence band #primer 55 #verge of umbra #311 #311 band

[daydreamingyuta]

My Rockstar | Yuta

summary: fluff, being a supportive girlfriend to your aspiring rockstar boyfriend, Yuta, was fun. But when his band starts to gain a following, you're unexpectedly hit with jealousy from him suddenly having girls all over him. word count: 2,493 a/n: Happy Yuta Day!!! 💚

Sitting on a plastic fold out chair in a garage, listening to your boyfriend Yuta and the rest of his band play a song that he wrote for you, was always something you looked forward to. Today, there are two other girls there, the girlfriends of Johnny and Jaehyun you assumed. You take the time to say hi and offer them some water, but you don’t remember their names because you know they’ll be replaced next week by some other girls, so there’s no point.

That’s what’s so different about Yuta, he only wanted you. Being the lead singer and guitarist, there were occasionally girls who would throw themselves at him, but you had his heart and that was one thing you loved so much about him. 

Another thing you loved was his passion and drive. His band hasn't taken off yet, playing small gigs here and there, but that doesn't stop him from believing that his band will be huge one day. He often shares these dreams with you and every time, you can’t help but fall for him all over again. He was going to become a rockstar, he knew it, and so did you. 

⸻

Sitting down on Yuta's living room couch, you watch him pace back and forth in the kitchen while he’s on the phone with someone. You can’t hear the conversation but you can tell he’s upset about something. You watch him hang the phone up and you decide to get up and walk into the kitchen. 

You plant yourself right in front of him and run your hands through his hair. “Yuyu, what’s wrong?”

“The ‘Lone Palm Bar’ canceled on us again.”

“They’re not gonna let you play?” You watch as he shakes his head, his eyes looking tired from practicing hard for the gig that now wasn’t going to happen. You raise your hands up to his face to cup his cheeks into your hands, “Hey, don’t worry. They’ll be venues begging you to play one day.”

He nods his head at you as you watch a smile creep onto his lips. You adored the fact that you could make him feel better. He snakes his arms around your waist, backing you up so that you’re leaning against the kitchen island, “One day soon, baby.”

You nod your head as you bring your lips to his cheeks and press two kisses on them. “You’ve been practicing so much lately, I think you need to catch up on some sleep.” He rests his forehead on your shoulder and nods, pulling you closer into a tight hug, “You’ll stay the night with me?”

You hadn’t planned to stay the night, but you knew Yuta slept the best with his girl by his side. Plus, in the beginning of your relationship he had insisted on keeping the essentials at each other's places, so you had all that you needed. “I’ll stay if you let me wear my favorite shirt.”

He lifts his head up and motions it towards his room, “You know where it is.”

You practically skip to his room, and once inside, you beeline to his closet. You skim his clothes before you finally find it, his old ‘One Ok Rock’ shirt which was easily the most comfy t-shirt you’ve ever worn. Yuta has had it since he first started liking the band and he told you that his heart melted a little every time he saw you in the shirt, so of course it quickly became your favorite shirt to wear when you slept over. 

You do the rest of your nightly routine in the bathroom as Yuta waits in the bed for you. You expected him to already be asleep by the time you were finished, but when you walk out of his bathroom, he’s propped up on the bed with his hands behind his head. You tilt your head to question him but all he does is a twirling motion with his finger, signaling to you to do a spin for him. You do as you're told, letting him get a good view of the cozy outfit you both loved so much. 

Once he looked satisfied, you crawl into bed with him, “Ok we have to go to sleep now, Yuta.” You say, sternly because the both of you had a habit of talking until the sun came up.

“Hmm, come here then.” He says, welcoming you to cuddle into him, resting your head on his chest.

 ⸻

You’re both woken up by the buzzing sound of Yuta’s phone ringing against the nightstand. Yuta answers it, half-asleep, but as soon as the person on the phone told him who they were, he was wide awake. You could only hear Yuta’s side of the conversation, but his expression tells you that it’s something very exciting. The conversation comes to an end and as soon as Yuta hangs up the phone, he turns to you.

“Baby, we have a gig at Boulevard Hall!” He says, beaming at you, not able to hide his excitement. 

“Boulevard Hall? That’s bigger than any gig you’ve ever had, Yuta!”

“I know and they. asked. us.” He says, emphasizing every word. “Can you believe that?” You watch as Yuta gets up and starts getting dressed. “They had an artist cancel on them at the last minute and one of the guys working there has been listening to our music lately so they decided to ask us. I have to go tell the guys.” He says as he pulls his shirt over his head and walks over to you to give you a kiss. 

“This is going to be so big for you guys, I’m so proud of you Yuta.” You say, truly meaning it, the proudness you feel in your heart right now is more than you’ve ever felt before. Yuta showers you with a few kisses before he leaves, since the call was so last minute they’ll have to practice day and night to be fully prepared. 

 ⸻

Yuta had a few pre-show rituals he always did before going out on stage. One of them was always having hot tea to soothe his throat so he can sing the best he can. Another, was always making sure he wears the earrings you got him for the first birthday you two shared together. However, your favorite pre-show ritual of his was when you got to sit on his lap and do his eyeliner. 

You arrive backstage a little before the show starts. Your eyes scan the room for Yuta and when you see him he already has his earrings on and some tea in hand. You stride over to him making sure to say a quick hello to Taeyong and Mark on the way. This was their biggest show yet, so they were all visibly nervous. Even Yuta was a bit on edge, you can tell by the way his hands were fidgeting but as soon as you slide onto his lap, his tense demeanor was replaced by calm. “Hi, baby. Ready for your eyeliner?” You ask, pulling out the makeup from your bag. He nods his head and you get to work, deciding to go for a bit of a smoky look.

“You know, I looked out at the crowd before I came in.”

“How many people are out there?”

You pause for a moment so that you can really see his reaction when you tell him. “Baby… there's like at least four hundred people.”

“Four hundred?” Yuta almost drops you off his lap from shock but his firm grip on you stopped that from happening. Once you get comfortable again he kisses you like you were the reason why so many people came. You knew he was really in shock when he let you finish his eyeliner as he just sat there in amazement.

You thought he was going to say something else about the crowd but he surprised you. “You look so pretty tonight angel, trying to distract me while I'm on stage?”

His sweet words always made you blush, but that didn’t stop your mind from thinking about all the girls you saw out there in the crowd. “I don’t know if i’ll be distracting you, there are so many pretty girls out there tonight.”

You had finished his eyeliner so you were about to get off his lap but he stopped you. “Hey, don’t say things like that.” His demeanor very serious. 

“I wasn’t saying anything Yuta, the girls out there are gorgeous.” You respond, matter-of-factly but not looking into his eyes. 

“I’m sure that’s true but they won’t be the one distracting me y/n. I only have eyes for you, you know that.” 

Of course you know this to be true. Sometimes your mind just went to the worst especially since it’s the norm for musicians to get with fans. You nod your head and Yuta smiles, pressing his lips on your forehead. 

You slide off his lap when their manager announces that they go on stage in ten. “Ok, I should get out there.” You say as you notice the other girlfriends start to leave. You grab your bag and wrap your arms around Yuta’s neck, standing on your tippy toes to give him a few kisses. “Good luck, baby. You’ll be amazing, like always.” 

He pulls you into a tight hug and presses his lips onto yours one last time. “Thank you, baby. I’ll look at you if I need encouragement, ok?” He says, loving the fact that he always has his girl cheering him on in the crowd. 

You nod your head and head out the room to get into the crowd, ecstatic for the show to start. 

 ⸻

The show was absolutely perfect. You had been to every one of their shows prior and this was definitely their best yet. As soon as you enter backstage, Yuta engulfs you into a hug that was a bit sweaty but you couldn’t care less. “You were amazing, baby.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from speaking into his chest. 

“I felt it, y/n. It was like-” Yuta’s sentence was cut off by his manager telling him that there were people waiting to get pictures with him and the rest of the band. Yuta flashes you a shocked expression before turning around cooly to meet his fans who had stayed after the show. 

You watch from afar, with a proud smile on your face. The band’s never gotten this type of attention before and you knew they were all basking in it. You were relishing the moment too until you noticed how close all the girls are to Yuta, and how pretty they are, and how they’re finding any excuse to touch him. You really were trying to not think this way, but as soon as one of the fans motions to her cheek and Yuta presses a quick kiss on it, you are fully taken aback. 

You didn’t want to make a scene so you just decided to try and leave. The only issue was that you didn’t exactly know where the exit was and in the state of mind you were currently in, you found yourself lost. You were opening doors at random until your tears began to fall and you decided to hide yourself in a storage room until they stopped. 

You tried to calm yourself down, but the tightness in your throat just constricted even more. Your tears were less about a stupid kiss on the cheek and more about the fact that if a kiss on the cheek wasn’t crossing the line, what was? You really didn’t want to doubt Yuta’s words of devotion to you, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the worst happening in the future. Ten minutes went by before you heard a light knock on the storage room door. “Baby? I was looking for you and someone said they saw you come in here. Are you ok?”

You open the door and it’s obvious you have been crying. You try to deny that anything is wrong but obviously Yuta knows you better than to believe that. “Baby, I can tell something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

You don’t dare look into his eyes, knowing that your tears were bound to fall again if you did. You really weren’t going to say anything but the words slipped out before you could stop them, “I feel like it’s just only a matter of time Yuta.”

“A matter of time before what?”

“Before you actually give in to one of those girls throwing themselves at you.”

“Is that what you think? Y/n…Is this about me kissing that fan on the cheek? I should have asked you if you would be ok with it-”

“No, it’s not really about that. I just didn’t think that it would be this hard seeing you get this kind of attention and I know that that’s selfish of me because this is your dream but-”

“Y/n, it’s not selfish. Honestly if it was the other way around I would have a hard time with guys showering you with love too. but you know how I feel about you. If that was crossing the line tonight, then I’ll never do it again.” He steps closer to you, regret in his eyes. “But I promise you, I mean it with my whole heart when I tell you that you’re the only one for me. I mean, who was with me every step of the way?”

You didn’t say anything at first, but you could tell that this wasn’t a rhetorical question Yuta was asking you. “I was.” You say, meekly. 

“You were, y/n. And who was the only one cheering me on when no one else would?”

Again, you felt silly answering his question, but he wanted you to answer again.“I was, Yuta.”

“Then how could anyone ever compare to you, baby?” Yuta cups your face into his hands and kisses you gently. “You’re mine. You have my heart. Nobody else. I've written you a million songs telling you exactly that, and I'll write a million more if that's what it takes for you to believe me."

"I believe you, Yuta."

He flashes you his smile that always makes your heart skip a beat, "That's my girl." He says, giving you another tender kiss that makes your head feel slightly dizzy. “Let’s go home, ok?”

“Wait, aren’t the other boys still meeting fans?” You say, stopping him. 

“They are, but I have the only fan I need.” You cringe at him, but you can’t deny that his words make your heart immeasurably happy. You knew Yuta was only going to get more famous and he was only going to get more attention, but you found comfort in the fact that if you ever felt unsure about his feelings towards you again, he would always be there to remind you.

#happy birthday yuta! #happy yuta day!! #yuta #nct #nct 127 #fanfic #fluff #fanfiction #k-pop #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #imagine #nct scenarios #established relationship

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 1: Before the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.

warnings: It's the Daisy Jones and the Six!AU, Enemies to friends to lovers, Love triangles, sex, drugs, rock and roll, etc., fake relationships, bad parents all around, era-typical misogyny and sexism, mentions of reader's looks (as being very beautiful), partially interview format, no use of YN

AN: Hi, if you're a longtime TCGU reader, please read this note from me explaining this new format. If this is your first time coming across This fic, welcome! Please enjoy my attempt at a Daisy Jones and the Six!AU with some Fleetwood Mac-messiness thrown in.

MASTERLIST🎸

Prologue 🎤

WC: 8.6K

***

STEVE: Right, so I just start talking into this microphone thing?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, but you need to introduce yourself first.

STEVE: You know who I am, we’ve known each other for—ah, okay, okay sorry. I’m Steve. Harrington, obviously. Former lead singer and guitarist of The Downsides. So, uh, where do I start?

INTERVIEWER: The beginning—tell me about how you first got involved with music.

STEVE: Right, okay, I can do that. I grew up kinda lonely. My dad was this big real estate investor but we lived in Indiana of all places, so he was always traveling. I don’t think I remember him ever being home for more than a month straight growing up… and my mom was there but she wasn’t there, ya know? She drank a lot and spent a lot of time in bed, that sort of thing.

***

1962-1972, Los Angeles California

Your childhood is a lonely one but it’s also a boring and predictable one.

Born in sun-soaked LA to a movie director father and his much younger model wife, two people who didn’t know each other well enough to either love or hate the other. They maintained a similar distance in their marriage as the one they tried to uphold in their individual relationships with you, their child.

So, your infancy was spent in a rotation of different nanny’s arms with your parents’ presence only dotting the periphery of your life. Who could blame them, after all? Infants are so contrived and boring compared to the big, wide, world of art that was Los Angeles in the 1960s.  Your parents were far too busy trying to cement their legacy in the art they created and inspired to spend too much time looking after you.

(Much later in life, you would find yourself wondering if your parents ever saw the irony  in the fact that your art ended up eclipsing their entire existence in the end and their only legacy was that of being your parents.)

As a child, however, you spent little time thinking of legacy and instead spent your time trying to feel less lonely.

***

STEVE: When I was a kid I would wonder why my parents even had me. Sorry, that’s like a total bummer thing to say during an interview. But it’s true. And you said to tell the truth. I never felt wanted by them. Until I got famous, and even then… but that’s not new,  a lot of kids grow up feeling lonely, right?

***

The employees who raised you were nice enough, but they saw you for what you were: a means to an end. A paycheck with big, sad, beautiful eyes that may beget sympathy, but they couldn’t get too close to.  The children you came to meet at your elite California private school seemed palatable enough at first, but the more you interacted with them, the more you found yourself at a loss. It was like they spoke a secret language you did not know—a language of price tags, and ever-changing hierarchies and thinly-veiled insults. One that your mother spoke perfectly, but never bothered to pass down to you.

You end up turning to books instead. The home library your father kept up for appearances’ sakes became your favorite room in the house and your teenage growth spurts were fed by any and all novels you could get your hands on from historical biographies to soapy romances, you read them all.  You loved them all, but you loved poetry the most— emotive and raw in ways you were unfamiliar with. You liked the way the syllables rolled gracefully into one another and how each word served a purpose—compact with meaning and so unlike the people around you who were so careless with their words.

As you began to age, and the meaningless mess of childhood shifted into the sharpness of adolescence, you began to write yourself. One day, somehow you had the idea of putting your poetry to music. If you could write songs good enough to be played on the radio then maybe you could earn people's adoration through your art like your parents had, you reasoned. Maybe you could even earn their adoration. You beg your parents for piano lessons, and they scoff at the thought.  “But what’s the point of having one if no one can play it?” You ask, referencing the piano in the grand foyer.

“That piano is not meant to be played,” your mother explains, slowly, “it’s meant to be admired by our guests.”

She walks away from the conversation before you can even protest.

Instead of giving up, though, you went to the library and borrowed all the books you could on music and piano playing and slowly began to teach yourself. You were not very good, at first, and both your parents made a habit of reminding you whenever they were around to hear you practicing. Luckily, they were rarely around.

***

STEVE: My parents signed me up for every single activity and extra-curricular you can think of: karate, basketball, pottery.   The one that really stuck though, was guitar lessons. Soon, that was the only thing I wanted to do it was something I was actually good at. Not something I had potential in, not something I was passable at. It was something I was good at. My dad did not like the idea of me going into music at first—he wanted me to take on a “manlier” hobby—but even he couldn’t deny that I was talented, and he sent me to this specialized music school in Indianapolis. That’s where I met Robin. That’s when I stopped feeling so alone.

ROBIN: Robin Buckley, brass, bass, and synth for The Downsides.

I met Steve when we were thirteen, I think, at this fancy music school in Indianapolis. I was there on scholarship.  I’m not going to lie, he was obnoxious, but most thirteen-year-old boys are. Even then, though, there was something about him that made everyone want to be his friend. He was also really talented. He never had to work very hard to be good at something, but he worked hard anyway. I hated him at first, but he wore me down and we eventually became best friends.

***

1978

Your music became a good outlet for all your loneliness and anger and disappointment, but it was not a cure for any of those things. You craved friendship and commonality and to be liked beyond the surface.

One day, when you were towards the end of seventeen, you decided to go exploring. You had heard Emily Cooke whispering salaciously in the girls’ bathroom at school about sneaking into the Whiskey A Go-Go to see The Six playing and an idea began to blossom.

Your home was only a walking distance from the Strip, the aptly named piece of street that was lined with clubs and musical venues, so that day, after hearing Emily’s plan you decided to try your luck at the Whiskey. You loved music, after all, and you wanted to be good at it, like the musicians that played there. Plus, there were others that shared those interests and the was a chance that some of them would be more tolerable than Emily Cooke.

You waited in line, by yourself, donning an outfit that you hoped made you look older than you were in an organic, cool way. When you made it to the doorman, you smiled trying to look more confident than pleading. His eyes raked over your body once, then twice and you resist the urge to flinch away. You had known then that you were beautiful—mostly because it was the only thing your mother valued in you— but what you hadn’t known was how far just being beautiful could get you. The doorman had let you in the club, not even questioning when your voice wavered while you had told him you were older than you actually were.

***

ROBIN:   Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Steve was my first kiss.

INTERVIEWER: Uh, Robin?

ROBIN: Oh, right…. Well, whatever, Steve Harrington was my first kiss. He was also the first person I told that I liked girls. I knew from a really early age that I didn’t find men attractive but when Steve kissed me at our high school dance I had this immediate realization and I sorta burst out, “Steve, I like girls.” It was a really great moment of self-awareness for me—growing up as a girl, they always try to put you in this box of like feminity and being whatever men wanted you to be, including an object to be looked at or pawned over. I didn’t know how being gay fit into all that, until that moment.

I don’t think it was that great of a moment for Steve, though.

STEVE: She told you about that? Well, for the record, it wasn't that I wasn't happy for her, it's just when you're a teenage boy and if your first crush admits she's a lesbian moments after you kiss her for the first time, well, it does not do your ego any favors, does it?

***

The moment you walked through that door, your life became severed in two: the before and the after. You watched, from the fringe of the crowd, as Billy Dunne crooned soulfully, and the audience sang his own words back to him.

You briefly imagine yourself on the stage, being someone that people would actually want to come see, someone that people would listen to. Someone people would love.  

***

STEVE: I always knew I wanted to be in music. It was the only thing that ever made sense. Wait, no, that’s not right… It’s the only thing that ever made life make sense. So, I started working at it, like seriously working it at, when I was 16. I bought as many records as I could, figured out what I liked, what I could do, and I practiced all the time. Like all the time. Robin did, too. I would play the guitar and sing, and she was insane on the trumpet and bass. I don’t think we ever sat down and had a conversation about whether we wanted to form a band or even what we wanted for ourselves in the future. We just always knew it was going to be the two of us, and we were going to be making music. Of course, you can’t have a band with only a guitar and a trumpet, so we had to start looking for more members.

***

1980

From that point on, your life had purpose.

You began to study everything about music—obsessively. You collected records, you played the piano until your fingers became cramped and sore or until your mother yelled at you to stop.

You filled notebook after notebook with lyrics, some good, many bad.

But you also kept your eyes on the tabloids and the gossip rags and the fashion magazines. To be a successful musician, you had to be good of course, but you also had to be well-liked. Growing up in the environment you did had given you a very unique perspective on this. Since infancy, you had seen hopeful artists-to-be approach your father for a chance, or ask your mother for advice. The most successful of them were not always the ones who had the best things to say, but those who said what they had to say in the best way.

 You practiced giving fake interviews in front of your mirror and in the shower. You stayed on top of trends and bought the best-fitting clothes. And most importantly, you tried to associate yourself with all the right people.

By the time you turned 18, you were well-known, even beyond the Strip. Photos of you standing next to the bass player/drummer/guitarist/lead singer of whatever band might have been riding a momentary wave of popularity at the time began to appear in tabloid magazines.

Most of them were men. Most of them wanted something out of you. You became a master in the art of giving just enough for them to think they had a chance with you if it meant that you could learn from them or convince them to listen to one of your songs. But every time you would even mention the idea that you wrote music, you would come hit a wall of patronizing, feigned interest followed by a grab at your chest.

Then came Jason Carver. Lead singer of the Letterman’s, Jason Carver. You dated him for a few weeks, right after you had turned 18. He was 25 and just charming enough for you to overlook his frequent condescension. Plus, he had promised that he would teach you a few chords on the guitar.

One day, you had come over to his apartment and he was getting all worked up because the band’s label was on his ass about writing a song and he couldn’t quite get it right. He needed to write a love song, something introspective and sweet but Jason could only churn out party anthems and songs meant to be played in dive bars.

Eventually, after hearing him gripe for what seemed like an eternity, you sent him off to take a shower and in the meanwhile compiled all of his shreds of half-lines and began to work filling in the gaps. Forty minutes later, you had a solid chorus and first verse to present to him for a song you thought should have been called “All At Once”. You thought that this would’ve made him happy, after all, you had gotten him one step closer to a possible song. (And maybe, you had secretly hoped, in all of his gratitude he could be swayed to give you a writing credit on the song).  Instead, he laughed at you like you were a child pretending to do an adult task and asked you to leave with a hasty promise that he would call you later that week. He never called. The hurt you felt was only a pin-prick. Six months later, you heard The Letterman’s on the radio: a new song by them called, “All At Once”. You tried to convince yourself for a moment that there would be no way that Jason could blatantly steal your song after having mocked you for even trying to write. But, boy, were you wrong. Those were, in fact, your lyrics, on the radio. Yes, the band had added another verse but, ultimately, your lyrics were all there. The same lyrics Jason had so easily dismissed six months prior.

That was when you realized if you were going to get ahead in the industry, you were going to have to play dirty, like Jason Carver.

***

 ROBIN: We met Argyle in Chicago. Once we graduated high school Steve and I started working as subs for small bands in the Midwestern circuit. Yes, it was as grim as it sounds, but it paid the bills and helped us meet people. Argyle was the drummer of some Reggae band that needed a bass player for a few weeks when their bassist got arrested on possession charges. I subbed in and was immediately super impressed by his skills. People always underestimated Argyle, to this day, because of the whole vibe he gives off, you know? But he’s smart and adaptable. Anyway, when his bassist lost his case, the band broke up indefinitely and I tried my best to convince Argyle to join Steve and me. There were two of us, we’d never played an official gig, and we didn’t even have a name, but Argyle said yes. Next was Nancy. We held open auditions for a keyboardist once Argyle was onboard. After five passable auditions, Nancy Fucking Wheeler walks in in this long skirt and bows in her hair. She had a book of Debussy sheet music for God’s sake. I almost burst out laughing when I saw her because I thought she must have been lost but then, in true Nancy Wheeler fashion she blew us all away. Ugh, was that woman talented. And gorgeous. Steve’s jaw had to be crane-lifted off the floor, it was love at first sight.

STEVE: It was not. She’s exaggerating.

1980

Ironically, you met Murray Bauman at one of your parents’ parties.

You knew he was a music producer for Starcourt Records because he kept loudly boasting to his date about it. The same Starcourt Records that the Letterman’s were signed on to.

You waited until he was two gin martinis in and standing alone admiring your father’s latest art purchase before you approached.

“Hello,” you said, brandishing a dazzling smile, your whole body angled and ready to perform this familiar dance.

“Aren’t you the producer for the Letterman’s?”

He shot you a grin that borders on swarmy and said, “why yes, I am and you look like you’re out past your bedtime.”

You didn’t react to his statement and instead marched onwards, “I loved their latest song, ‘All At Once’ right? It’s so romantic.”

“Between you and me, I’m not sure how Carver popped that one out, he’s a bit of a meathead if you catch my drift.”

He didn’t wait to see your reaction before laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah, actually, I’m not surprised to hear that considering I dated him,” your eyes flashed in a way that you hoped came off as dangerous, “and that I wrote that song.”

He regarded you for a moment before breaking out in a laugh. When he saw your expression remained unchanged, he stepped back in assessment.

“Oh shit, you’re being serious.”

You only nodded grimly.

“Okay, well that’s a new one. Usually, girls come up claiming that one of those idiots impregnated them, not this.”

He regarded you again, searching for a trace of a lie. He sighed, “So let’s say that you did write the song, which, knowing what I know about those Neanderthals, I am willing to entertain the possibility of this being at least partially true, then what does that mean? You’re going to blackmail Starcourt? Do you want money?”

You gestured vaguely behind you, sure that he must have known who your parents were. “I don’t need money.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I write music. Obviously. I want to write for your label.”

A grin broke out across his face, “Oh, boy.” He started to laugh: a deep chuckle that floated up from his belly.

“You and every other Joe Schmoe in Hollywood, sweetie.”

“But not every other Joe Schmoe wrote a song for one of your most popular bands.”

Murray regarded you again, he gave you a look you’re all too familiar with. One that says he did not expect such a fight in such an unassuming package.

“Here’s the deal,” you start, taking his brief lapse to pounce, “all I want is for you to take my demo tape and listen to it, like actually listen to it. Do that and we never have to mention this again.”

“And if I say no to your little proposition?”

You smile at his question before offering a small piece of paper, “Then here’s the business card to my lawyer he’ll be reaching out.”

This, puzzlingly, makes the man burst out laughing once again.

“Let me get this straight, you just want me to listen to your tape? That’s the grand blackmailing scheme? No record deal, no music video?”

You shake your head in response, “No, I think my music speaks for itself. I just need to get it in front of the right person.”

Murray’s still chuckling to himself as he extends his hand out signaling for you to drop the tape you are now holding in his hands.

“Fine, but you are one shitty blackmailer.”

You were signed to Startcourt Records a month later.

***

STEVE: Once Nancy joined, we were a band, and so we needed a name. I suggested the Steve Harrington experience but the girls shot me down like, right away. We ended up fighting about names for like an hour. It was actually Argyle who ended up coming up with our name. The Downsides, he had said, since we were all so negative about everything. He had said this after Robin had said I was 'all hair and no brain'. Not the best of origin stories, I guess. But we liked it and that’s how we became The Downsides.

***

NANCY: Nancy Wheeler, former keyboardist for The Downsides.

  I had been playing piano since I was eight, it was just one of those things my parents signed me up for to make me more well-rounded for college applications but I ended up loving it more than they had hoped.

I auditioned for the band on a whim, I was going to Indiana State at the time, getting my teaching degree but I loved playing the piano more than I would ever love being a teacher. To be honest, when I auditioned, I didn’t think they were going to take me, not even after I saw they had another girl in the band. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I had the talent for it, I just didn’t necessarily give off Rock and Roll vibes, but they accepted me anyway.

  I had a feeling Steve liked me from the moment we met, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him then. He’s Steve Harrington for God’s sake. Girls had posters of him up on their walls for the better part of the 80s. I just—I didn’t want people to think I got the spot because I was involved with the lead singer. I wanted people to know that I earned my place through talent. Steve was really disappointed when I turned him down, but he was always really respectful about it.

  That didn’t mean he stopped being interested or that I didn’t feel his eyes on me during every rehearsal in the summer of ‘81.  

1981

Of course, you knew that when you had been signed to Starcourt Records it wasn’t completely because of your talent.

You had started to wonder, however, if Starcourt had given you a shot because they didn't want to risk litigation or maybe because those record execs had seen your name floating around in a magazine or, more importantly, your picture.

The more you thought about it, the more insecure about your place you had felt, like an imposter among others who had earned their spots. But, after one week of rubbing shoulders with the musicians over at Starcourt, you realized that to be able to make it, you were going to have to ooze confidence, even if that confidence was fake.

***

NANCY: We started playing gigs together around the Midwest. In the beginning, we mostly played covers but eventually, we started writing our own music. I’m not a great songwriter and, to be frank, neither is Steve, so a lot of the stuff we were coming up with was pretty simple but it worked for us. We went from playing weddings to actually getting gigs that paid money. I mean it was barely enough to cover gas to get there but it was something. I guess, for the sake of transparency, there is one more thing I have to talk about while we’re talking about this time in the band’s life.

Steve and I spent a lot of time writing music together. It was great, being able to get close. I thought we were becoming friends. He was still a bit hung up, though and one night, when we were up late writing at his tiny apartment, he kissed me. And I kissed him back.

The next day, I told him that that couldn’t happen again. I gave him my reasons and he respected that but still, I could tell he was crushed. I think that between the kiss and us having this talk, he had begun to hope that something would happen between us.

I think that’s what made me and Jonathan hurt him so much more. 

1982

You didn’t necessarily like Murray when you first began to work with him but you did trust him. In the professional capacity at least. He never tried anything with you, which you appreciated although that bar was abysmally low.

You hadn’t known what to expect on your first day in the studio but you had a feeling that as far as the music was considered, you were in decent hands.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

The moment you had stepped into the studio, Murray had handed you a stack of music, all unfamiliar and definitely nothing you had written.

“What’s this?” You had asked, eyes crinkling in confusion.

“A few contenders for an EP. The team over at marketing came up with some branding concepts and this is what we landed on.”

He then pulled out a thick folder overflowing with pictures of what you assumed the studio had wanted to mold you into. It was all bubblegum and teased hair and not at all what you had envisioned.

“Wait, Murray, I don’t understand.  I have a brand, one that I've spent a lot of time curating along. This isn't me and this is definitely not my music.  You said I could sing the music that I’ve written.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Murray hummed, condescendingly, “I never said that.”

“Well, if I can’t sing my music then I just won’t sing at all.” You were the full image of a petulant child, arms crossed and lips dangerously close to a pout.

Murray feigned concern for a moment before hunching down so that he was at eye level with you.

“You signed a contract,” he spoke slowly, “Starcourt owns you, and if you don’t like it, then talk to a judge.”

He turned away from you, leaning against the mixing console. He speaks again after what seems like an eternity.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not saying it’s ethical or right, but if you want to make it in music, you got to play the game. You can’t come in here, swinging your metaphorical dick around, calling the shots when you haven’t proven you can rake in the dough.

“Sure, you’ve got talent, but who doesn’t? Right now, there’s a line of girls around the block who can sing and write and are probably better at following directions, waiting to take your spot.

"Plus, I read the songs you sent over, you have some good lines but there's not a single song worth attaching Starcourt's name to. Take this as an opportunity to learn, to be better, to actually work for something for the first time in your life. You have nothing right now, so nothing is below you, not even this pop dribble they're giving you to sing.

"I’m not saying it’s always gonna be this way, but you have to prove to them that you can play before they take you seriously, and then if you got what it takes, you can start writing your own music. Hell, if you make them enough money, they’ll let you play the fucking didgeridoo and go out in a nun’s habit… well, maybe not the habit, but the point stands. So, can we stop acting like the spoiled princess we are for just one afternoon and get to rehearsing?”

You snatched the book of songs from his outstretched hand and with a smile on your face, tore it down the middle before stomping off.

It had taken five days of Murray, along with various other executives at Starcourt, pounding on your door at the Chateau Mormont—the hotel that was your permanent residence since you had turned 18— before you had even considered setting foot in Starcourt again.

All it took was a gift basket full of Champagne and half a dozen threatening letters from their legal team.

***

NANCY: Jonathan came on as our second guitarist. I remember when he came to the audition he was this quiet, super shy kid who barely managed to make eye contact, but once he had a guitar in his hands, he had this way of coming alive. He wasn’t a showman like Steve, but he was electric when he played.

We—I never meant for things to turn out the way they did but with Jonathan, it wasn’t much of a choice. I know this sounds so cliche, but we were drawn to each other. I remember, during rehearsals, even before we really knew each other, he and I would lock eyes from across the room and I would know exactly what he was thinking.

Soon, we were sneaking around together. We were getting more and more serious, it was only a matter of time, honestly, before the others found out. Jonathan wanted to come clean early on, he could tell it was causing me so much stress, but I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Part of it, was Steve, of course, but also, what Jonathan and I had felt precious and personal and ours. I wanted to stay in this bubble we had built for ourselves.

Of course, it was Steve and Robin who eventually caught us, making out in Jonathan’s car after rehearsals one day.

To say that Steve took it hard is probably an understatement. He skipped rehearsal for five straight days and when he showed up he had this new song he had written, this ballad called, “Regret You”.

“If I never had you, then why can’t I forget you / I hate myself because I could never regret you.”

Yeah, that was an awkward one to rehearse but, to his credit, it was a great song. It was the song that got us noticed.

1982

You had spent months recording your first EP, a five-song collection the studio had decided to name “The Setlist”. It was meant to be a play on your groupie status, or at least that’s what some intern over in the marketing department had claimed, a little too proud of himself for your liking.

While you couldn't ignore the sense of accomplishment that bubbled below the surface, you mostly felt empty. 

The whole thing made you think of your father, whom you hadn't spoken to in years but had a very staunch view on artistic integrity. He despised artists who 'carelessly churned out poor imitations of real art for money'.  "To make art is as close as one can get to being god," he had explained to you once, with self-important tears in his eyes, "why would anyone sell that off? Art should mean something to the artist. Otherwise, they are a peddler of fake divinity." 

Your father had never had to worry about money a day in his life. 

That empty feeling was only exacerbated when, the Friday after you had officially finished recording, Murray had invited you to lunch with a particular proposition in mind.

“No, Murray, not gonna happen. Over my dead body and all that,” you spat from across the table.

“Listen, I don’t want to pull the contract card on you, but I will,” he warned with no real heat as he swirled his gin martini in one hand.

“Nice try,” you mirrored his pose, martini and all, “but the contract doesn't cover this, only original work. Not duets. You know that, I know that, so why don’t you try again and give me one good reason why I would even consider a duet with The Letterman’s.”

Murray gave you a look you had come to familiarize yourself with—one that was equal measures of pride and annoyance. It was the look he gave you whenever you bested him.

“How about the fact that they’re one of the hottest acts right now and being on a track with them would guarantee you a spot on the charts which is a great place to be at any point in time, but especially when you’re about to release an EP?”

Your face dropped in the way it only did when you knew Murray was right about something you didn’t want him to be right about. A look he had been starting to familiarize himself with.

"Fine, I’ll do it, but I want to spend as little time as possible with Jason. He’s a pompous ass.” “No disagreements there, sweetheart.”

The day you were scheduled to record with Jason and the rest of his band, he was an hour late. You hadn’t doubted for a moment he had done this on purpose.

When he finally had shown, he pretended not to know you, a game you had quickly caught on to, and made sure to respond with, “It’s so nice to meet you, Jackson” after he made a show of introducing himself to you which made the rest of his band and Murray guffaw.

Jason narrowed his eyes at you, his voice struggling to stay level, and said, “Watch it. We’re the ones doing you a favor here, remember?”

“I did you one first,” you responded, your eyes meeting his gaze, “remember?”

It had taken 20 minutes for his bandmates to calm him down, but eventually, the two of you got into the booth.

Your only priority had been to do your best job in as few takes as possible because you did not know how much longer you could tolerate being in Jason’s presence.

In the end, after a two-hour session, Murray had sent you both home, either happy with the finished product or at his wit’s end with the tension. Either way, three weeks later you had a duet with The Letterman’s called “It Was You” and just as Murray had predicted, it was quick to climb the charts.

You were getting noticed.

***

NANCY: Not long after Steve wrote “Regret You” we got noticed by a scout from Starcourt Records. I think at first we thought it was some sort of scheme, but it was legit. They had us record a few demos and in something like six months, they moved us to a house in Culver City.

The whole thing had felt like some sort of fever dream. I had to quit school and tell my parents. They didn’t even know I was in a band. Or seeing anybody. Needless to say, they didn’t take any of it well. When we got to LA, we did more test recordings and they even had us playing some shows at a few clubs on the strip.

Like I said: total fever dream.

But, when you’re under the thumb of a label like that, there are certain stipulations. One of the first things they told us was that they wanted to make our sound more modern and pop. We kinda

had an alternative, experimental sound back then. They said synth was going to be the new thing so they wanted Robin to learn how to play the synthesizer which meant that on certain songs, Jonathan would have to take over for bass. Also, they wanted Steve to be more of a frontman and less of a guitar player. Steve could always work a crowd, and they wanted to use that, especially with this new sound they had envisioned for us. All of this meant we needed another guitar player and, believe it or not, the label already knew who that was going to be. Eddie Munson.

***

EDDIE: Okay, here we go.

 I’m Eddie Munson, lead guitar for The Downsides.

 I  grew up trailer trash in some town that no one’s ever heard of. My mom died when I was eight and my dad was in and out of jail pretty much my entire life--well, until those royalty checks started rolling in, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

  People always use the dead mom/jailbird dad thing to either turn me into a sob story or villainize me, so I generally tend to avoid talking about it but since it's you, I'll say this: the thing I remember most about my mother is her absence and there is not a single redeeming thing about ole' Munson Sr. but I don't think they're responsible for any of the ways I've fucked up over the years. Nah, kid, that was all me.

Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?

At the tender age of ten, I was gifted an old beat-up guitar by my uncle. Clearly, something he had picked up at the local Goodwill to try and keep me occupied and out of trouble. The neighbors hated us after. They hated us, even more, when it turned out that I could actually play.

When I was 18, Uncle Wayne got the idea that I was ready to commit to a life of indentured servitude over at the factory and that did not sit well with me, at all. I wanted to be a musician. But, instead of talking to him about it, you know, like a rational person? I just ran.

I sold my van and got a one-way ticket to LA. The metal scene was starting to pop up on the strip and music—metal—was the only thing I was good at, so I thought, ‘what the hell!’ and booked it. I slummed it for a few months and then, through some stroke of luck, I heard about a band that was auditioning for a new guitar player since their last one got hitched and quit. The Metal Gods smiled down on me the day of the audition because that same afternoon they called me back and told me they wanted me on as lead guitar.

1982

“It Was You”, your duet with The Letterman’s peaked at number 6 on Billboard’s Top 100 in October of 1982.

Suddenly, everyone wanted you to be featured in their songs. Your EP did well enough, but it didn’t even crack the top 30. That didn’t keep you from being the hot new thing on the scene and a

huge part of that was your reputation.

Of course, people knew who you were because of your groupie days, and you unintentionally built a reputation for being romantically involved with different musicians. So, when you broke out on the scene with a romantic duet, people started talking, and the tabloids began to spin stories about you and Jason being romantically linked which only caused a buzz for the song. You, of course, hated this and vehemently denied being involved with Jason to anyone who would listen. Jason, meanwhile, played it coy with the press, only fueling the rumors and your rage.

“Listen, I hate the guy as much as you do, sweetheart, but you got to respect the strategy,” Murray had said after hearing you gripe about one particularly salacious headline.

Before the year was through, you had been featured in five other duets. All with male artists. All resulting in more and more outlandish dating rumors. And all enjoying a lengthy stay on the top of the charts.

Starcourt had begun to push you to take it a step further and Brenner had asked for Murray to arrange outings between you and whatever male artist you were collaborating with. The meetings—you refused to call them dates—were always somewhere that was strategically public, somewhere where there was always at least one paparazzi with their cameras locked and ready. The pictures they would take would always make it to at least one gossip magazine, which resulted in even more publicity for the song.

Your partners—you refused to call them dates—were, at their best, cordial and business-like, one or two of them even asked for your permission before holding your hand. At their worst, though, they were handsy, entitled, and rude. None of them ever tried to ask you out on a real date and you weren't sure what that said about you.

Soon you were racking up duets and notoriety in equal measures. Radio DJs would make jokes about you every time they would play one of your songs—and they played your songs a lot. Once, while you were walking around Rodeo, a woman stopped you in the middle of the street and told you, very brazenly, that you needed to stop sleeping around so much. Before you could even tell her off, though, she proceeded to gush about how much she loved your duet with The Letterman's.

It seemed like everyone seemed to see you in a similar light though: they thought you were some sort of despicable maneater but all they wanted was more of a reason to talk about how you were a despicable maneater.

Murray had his work cut out for him, “We just need to find a way for you to have this same buzz all the time.”

***

EDDIE: Things started to pick up with Corroded Coffin. We were playing shows pretty much every night.  As I said, metal was on the rise and we were at the forefront. Eventually, record label bigwigs had no choice but to acknowledge that.

Some of them got smart and started poaching bands early on, like Starcourt. Corroded Coffin signed with them in ‘82. We thought we were hot shit after that.

There’s a certain lifestyle that goes along with that, though, you know? A reputation that you have to uphold.

I'm not trying to make excuses for myself here, trust me. I'm just...trying to explain myself.

People always love to talk shit. They'll call you all sorts of names before they see you as an actual person. Trust me, I would know. But, these interviews are an opportunity to set the record straight, to finally be seen as an actual person.

So, there I was, a nineteen-year-old kid from Bumfuck nowhere, finally making it big, finally feeling like I belonged somewhere--like for the first time I wasn't a freak whose mom died or some trailer trash high school dropout--of course, I was gonna get swept up in it all. Of course, I was going to start picking up the bad habits and doing drugs. There was no one there to tell me otherwise.

It started out as something to get us through the madness that was our schedule: between the live shows and the studio time, we needed uppers just to keep us on our feet. Then, obviously, you needed the downers so you could fucking relax because the uppers made you so tense. 

I stopped enjoying the drugs pretty early on, but at that point quitting wasn't something that I was willing to put that much effort into. 

1983

The first time someone asked for your autograph, you were at a show at Whiskey a Go Go. Murray, acting as a sort of manager, had set up a photo opp with Charles Riva, your latest duet partner. He hadn’t shown that night but you never walked away from a live show.

Two girls, not much younger than you, appeared behind you as you were ordering at the bar and tapped you on the shoulder.

“See, I told you it was her,” the shorter one, a strawberry blonde with severe bangs whispered excitedly to her friend, a taller brunette.

Before you could ask either of them exactly what they wanted, the strawberry blonde spoke again, “Can we have your autograph?”

You could only nod dumbly as they handed you a cocktail napkin and a pen. You tried to think of something meaningful to write, but in your shock, could only come up with “Best wishes, xoxo”. You didn’t even ask them their names. The best you could do was offer to buy them a drink, which they happily accepted.

You regretted the offer as soon as you registered how young they looked underneath all that makeup, an observation that made you unsettlingly sad. You were reminded of your first days on the Strip: lonely and young and wanting someone to notice you for the right reasons.

Your thoughts became too heavy to deal with at that particular moment and you abruptly excused yourself, leaving the two confused girls behind. A shame, you thought to yourself, in another life you might’ve all been friends, but no one really wants to be your friend these days. They just want to tell people they’re your friends. Walking away saves everyone the disappointment.

You needed a drink.

By the time the main act had taken the stage, your vision had started to haze at the edges as a result of the multiple drinks you had procured for yourself. You watched, half-interested as a band you’d never heard of, Corroded Coffin took the stage, your eyes tracing after each member, eyeing the things only a fellow musician would: the models of equipment they had, the way the band queued each other up.

You didn't know enough about metal yet to know whether you'd consider yourself a fan or not but even with the little familiarity you have, you can tell this band is good. Their playing is unpolished but overflowing with energy and the crowd is feeding into it, screaming the lyrics along with the lead singer.

All of it reminds you of your first show at the Strip—what seemed ages ago—and that memory summons a whole other thought entirely: the reason that you had gotten into music was to actually make music you liked, not to be a topic of discussion in a gossip magazine, getting no say in the music you created.

You don't even remember the last time you had even written a lyric.

You think to yourself that maybe you should wander backstage after the show, like you once did and talk to the band. Maybe you could pick their brains about songwriting. They clearly didn’t care about mass appeal if they were making metal music which means they were probably doing it for the art.

At the very least they probably had a decent stash of pills.

Either way, it would be worth it.

***

EDDIE: It was pretty much love, at first sight, the moment I saw her in the crowd that night at Whiskey a Go Go. I remember seeing her for the first time halfway through our set and it was like I went blind for a moment. I had completely forgotten what I was doing, I think I even missed a cue. After the show, I made a beeline for the bar where she was standing, trying to act as cool as I could but I was shitting it.

***

Once that band had wrapped up, you made your way to the dressing rooms. You maneuvered to the dressing rooms like you had dozens of times before, but the band wasn’t there.

You milled about for a bit, before growing bored and leaving wondering if maybe they had seen you coming and left.

***

EDDIE: I ordered a drink just as an excuse to get closer and it worked. She was even more beautiful up close and so, so kind. Told me she loved our show and even pointed out specific guitar solos of mine that she liked. She always had a way of making you feel special like that. Chrissy Fucking Cunningham. Even her name was perfect, not a syllable too few or too many.

I asked her for her number that night and we went on a date two days later, I could hardly keep it.

together having to wait two days to see her again. Then, after a few weeks, we were going steady, as the kids say. It was perfect. I never really had anyone to myself, you know? She was the first person that ever made me feel seen and cared about.

I remember one time; she was hanging out at my place while the band was in the studio. When I came back, she had done all my laundry. When I asked her why she had done that, she just said “I dunno, just because” then, all of a sudden there were tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like that for me “just because".

My life had never been better--so of course, I fucked it up.

***

While you did not manage to meet Corroded Coffin, you couldn’t stop thinking about them, even days later. It was like seeing them play had awoken you from a daze you didn’t even know you had been in.

You spend a few days getting incredibly drunk by the pool after that. But no matter how much you drank or how many pretty dresses you bought yourself or how many pill you took, you could not shake the feeling.

A few mornings later, you had called Murray, “This stops now, Murray. No more duets or features or whatever else. I want to meet with Brenner. I want to do this my way.”

Murray, not used to being awake so early, gave a weak attempt at talking you down.

“No,” you urged on, “you said once I started making money, I could have a say. Well, now I’m making money and I’m tired of Starcourt just using me for that. So, I want something permanent and I want to write my own music, got it?”

“You have a contract,” Murray parroted back, half-heartedly.

“Yes, I do, and I plan to honor that contract but so help me God I will make life a living hell for you and for Brenner and any other exec that tries to get me to do another duet with Jason fucking Carver. In fact, I will find a way to lose Starcourt money if you don’t get me out of this. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Great, I’ll see you at lunch Murray.”

He signed, “See you then.”

***

EDDIE: My drug use was getting more out of hand. Chrissy hated it, but I couldn't bring myself to quit. Especially the things that I thought I needed to make it through the day.

Chrissy was a saint throughout the whole thing, until one night when she caught me in the dressing room of Whiskey with a girl who was not her. She walked away and I don’t really blame her. Out of all the regrets of my life—and trust me, kid—that was one of the biggest.

She moved out that day and refused to take my calls, moved in with one of her friends and I spent days just calling her, sending her flowers, the works.

She told me she wouldn’t budge unless I got clean. So, I checked myself into rehab. She was a good enough reason to quit. 45 days later, I checked out, clean as a motherfucking whistle.

Chrissy was gone though, I had no clue where she had disappeared to, but wherever she went, she didn’t want me to find her.

On top of that, my band was fucking pissed. I left the band for 45 days without telling anyone, right as we were finishing recording our debut album. Yeah, they weren’t happy. I was in something called “breach of contract” with the suits over at record label and they wanted to take me to court, and not the Star kind.

I definitely didn’t have lawsuit type of money back then, so it was in my best interest to work something out with Starcourt and jump back on fulfilling my contract. Problem was, Corroded Coffin didn’t want me back anymore, even though the guy they replaced me with wasn’t half as good as I was.

I thought that because my old band didn’t want me, that meant that I would be free of my contract. I was wrong. What actually happened was that my fate was then put into Starcourt’s hands and they could place me in whatever podunk production or band they wanted. They owned my ass.

And that’s how I ended up with The Downsides.

PLAY NEXT TRACK

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Eddie Munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #steve harrington #rockstar!eddie Munson #past!eddie x chrissy #nancy wheeler x jonathan byers

[jqmalikhsgib]

bloom

five

Meet Corroded Coffin, The Up And Coming band of today!

Corroded Coffin was discovered by rock legend, Ozzy Osborne. He saw the band preform and instantly thought of his own band, Black Sabbath and just had to sign them.

“They reminded me so much of us,” Says Osborne. “I just had to get them in the studio immediately!”

Corroded Coffin started off as just four boys with a dream. The band formed when lead singer and guitarist, Eddie Munson met his best friend, Gareth playing his drums in his parents garage.

The two instantly looked for more outcast, such as themselves, to form a band! That’s when they met Jeff, who plays guitar, and Doug who plays bass. Corroded Coffin soon being born.

The group later got gigs in their small town in Indiana at the hideout. From then they’ve continued to jam out and only hoped their dreams of making it big became a reality.

As the years went by they got more and more love from people all over the world, including love from the band Metallica.

The metal group saw them jamming out on Instagram live and immediately shouted the band out! From then on they received more and more gigs from all around the world until soon being discovered.

“It was so fucking insane!” Doug points out. “To be notice by some of our favorite artists, it’s still surreal.”

“We have over ten million followers on our official site. When we opened Instagram the night we got verified it felt fucking sick!” Gareth states.

But the band isn’t the only dreams they have! Obviously being a big as they’ve gotten over night, a lot of their fans are curious about their personal lives.

They didn’t give too much detail, wanting to keep some things to themselves, but lead singer, Eddie Munson had spilled a little about his life outside of being a rockstar!

“This has been my dream for a while. Finally being noticed, having more and more gigs, traveling around the world, releasing an album, and eventually getting my family the fuck outta Hawkins.”

“Your uncle, right?”

Eddie laughs before shaking his head. “Naw, that old geysers gonna die in that town. Trust me, I’ve been trying to convince him to leave Hawkins for years. He loves it there.” Eddie states.

“Oh? Does that mean you’re not a bachelor, Munson?”

“Naw, man! Left that behind me years ago.”

“You just broke a million girls hearts.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. He seemed amused that people didn’t know he had a family.

“I got a whole football team of kids, man! Six beautiful ones. One boy and five girls! I’m currently engaged to the woman I’ve known almost my whole life! She’s my whole world.” Eddie points.

The man goes to state his love for his family before slowing drifting the conversation back to his music.

“They all encourage me with my music! A lot of the songs I’ve written just myself are about them! That’s what the band and I try to do when it comes to our own sound! We use our own voices, our own experiences, our own heartbreaks, and love stories and put them into words. We share them with one another and whichever ones we like, we record the sound!”

“Exactly! A lot of bands don’t have that. I think when it comes to it, having your own individual interests is important! It’s what makes us stand out a bit.” Jeff states.

“We obviously write a few songs together, maybe even change a lyric or two in each others individual work, but ultimately, we try to make sure our music reflects who we are, not just together, but individually.” Gareth finished.

There you have it folks, Corroded Coffins gonna take over the world soon. There next single, Lullaby comes out next friday. Check it out!

#jqhotchner #eddie munson x reader #jqhotchner masterlist #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie stranger things #dad!eddie munson x reader #rockstar eddie munson #modern eddie munson #eddie munson #bloom jqhotchner #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fake texts #fiancé eddie munson

[sevlawless]

dead apple's discography: 1/?

review taken from their local newspaper:

Dead Apple's debut EP 'Running Out of Time' has hit all streaming platforms, and despite the title, they are doing anything but. Their punk rock influences shine throughout, as well as co-lead singer Arabella Aveiro's love for Fiona Apple, partially to credit for their band name. The band consists of its other lead singer, Seven Duckstein, guitarist Rowan Hart, bassist Devyn Powell, drummer Jazzy Dawson, and Iris De Luca on the keys. Each track has a emotional tie in to at least one person in the group, making the five tracks feel as though you're experiencing their lives yourselves.

When the current 11th graders of our own Green Meadow High were asked about this, Aveiro simply said:

"We want to make music that people can relate to. I think it’s more rewarding when you create something that you love, and that other people can love as well. Making these songs with my friends has been so fun, and we can't wait to make more music together."

For everyone's sakes, let's hope this band never runs out of time.

cover and songs breakdown under the cut <3

the cover was taken by seven when the whole gang went to the city. devyn had just got her license and her parents let them take the minivan to fit everyone LMFAO and arabella stuck her head out the window on the drive home. earlier versions of the ep had seven on the back cover doing the same pose (arabella had taken that photo in return <3), but after the breakup any physical copies printed had the same picture on the front but blurred.

where the heart is

written by: jazzy and seven

the drums on this song YOU KNOW jazzy had a hand in this! she wanted to write a song for the ep and was kinda struggling but seven helped her out :) so this is one of their many co-written songs together <3 this being the opener is so fitting for me because of lines like "6:30 alarm, brush my teeth, and start the car" and "it's time to go home again, that's so boring"

starting off at 6:30 am, early in the morning, starting off this ep with this song just feels fitting to me! and the whole "i hate my town" rite of passage most punk rock bands go through!

favorite lyrics:

"all in all, i've always had the same thoughts riling up my heart // and all in all, i haven't changed a single thing to feel differently"

"my mind's been in a million places, but my body hasn't moved an inch"

"if i could just take a chance, i wouldn't feel so bad // to see past myself, i wouldn't feel so bad"

baby tonight

written by: devyn, arabella

this is just an iris and devyn love song im afraid! i have this VIVID headcanon of devyn coming up to arabella and being like "i wrote some lyrics for a song about iris can you help me out" and arabella IMMEDIATELY being on board! i imagine devyn inviting iris over to her house and the whole band already being there in the garage ready to play this song for her :) it's such a cute lil moment and i like to think whenever they have a gig on or around iris' birthday or their anniversary they play this song! they put this on their first ep because they love devyn and iris and SO DO I!

favorite lyrics:

"she's a diamond in my fucked up world // prettier than the pearls that lay around on her neck // she makes me so fucking SICK!"

"so baby won't you take my life? or maybe you could crush my soul?"

red with love

written by: seven

unrequited love is really something else huh LMFAO i like to think that seven wrote this after him and arabella went to a party and played spin the bottle which resulting in them kissing for the first time (which later on when they're dating arabella doesn't count it as their first kiss because her eyes were open and the kiss was horrendously bad because that's her BEST FRIEND and she CANNOT have feelings for her BEST FRIEND-)

anyways ! i think seven started developing some sort of feelings for arabella after that and this song is the product of a late night writing session on his roof. when he shows it to the band they're like "who the HELL is this about" and arabella just looks at him like she knows and is immediately just like "let's practice it right now!" much to seven's relief.

when they're dating though and they perform this song together i like to think that after the line "you kiss me so sweetly, it gets me high" arabella ALWAYS without fail would kiss seven on the cheek :)

they stop performing this song when seven leaves the band.

favorite lyrics:

"the sunlight through my windowpane illuminates your face // i need you closer and you're not even an inch away"

"when you come home, you call my name // believe me when i say // tomorrow i will love you more than i did yesterday"

"i can't seem to get enough // it makes me sweat, you’re in my head // it turns me red with love"

sleep to dream

written by: arabella, iris

this bitch loves fiona apple idk what to tell you. i imagine that during high school arabella dated the WORST people but that just fueled her writing so she wrote this after one particularly bad boyfriend. iris also helped with the piano composition! i fear these breakup songs will become a pattern for arabella in later works LMFAO

favorite lyrics:

"i tell you how you feel, but you don't care // i say tell me the truth, but you don't dare // you say love is a hell you cannot bare // and i say gimme mine back and then go there, for all i care"

"this mind, this body, and this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways // so don't forget what i told you // don't come around, i got my own hell to raise"

where the lines overlap

written by: arabella, rowan

just the first of MANY certified rowanbella classics! rowan came up with the basic chords and arabella wrote the lyrics. this song is just them basically saying we're so happy to be in this band with our friends and we hope that never ever changes and it WON'T… right?

anywayyyy.. this song is an absolute crowd favorite and whenever they play a gig they always play this one last :)

favorite lyrics:

"no one is as lucky as us, we're not at the end but oh, we already won"

"now i've got a feeling if i sang this loud enough, you would sing it back to me"

#infamous if #inf: arabella #dead apple discography #so um . hi LMFAOSKJSBSBSJSJS #if you read ALLLL of that i love you <3 #i have desperately been wanting to make dead apple's discography for some time and i finally got a kick in the ass to do it #even if the journey was so stressful #i just . LOVE THIS SM #this is so dead apple to me i love this band and i love arabella so so much #AND I LOVE INFAMOUS !!!!! #my edit

[thats-h0w-th3-light-g3ts-in]

International

Women‘s Day 2024

— To my favorite girls in rock —

This international women’s day is for these two incredible ladies. Immensely talented, candidly beautiful, tremendously underrated. They were trailblazers in their profession. At a time where the rock & pop music scene was dominated by male only bands, such as The Beach Boys or The Beatles, and crowds were bowing to rock-gods such as, Jimmy Page or Roger Daltrey, Christine McVie and Stevie Nicks were right up there with them. Women, as anything else than pretty faces and background singers were scarce in 1970s leading bands. Among Grace Slick, Joan Jett, Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart and of course ABBA‘s leading gals Agnetha and Frida, they were in good company but still leading ladies in rock bands were a rare breed.

Christine Anne Perfect had been in a band called Chicken Shack over in the old country when she married the bassist of Fleetwood Mac and finally joined his band in 1970. After their founding member and frontman had left the band (and in some ways also this universe), the rest of them, consisting of a rhythm section and two guitar players found themselves somewhat lost and in need of a fresh spark. The spark came in the shape of Christine (now McVie) a very talented keyboard player with a soulful, mellow voice who conveniently, had already been living with them, having spattered her talent all over the last album they’d made as an all male blues band. After a while the music scene in Great Britain had developed in a different direction as the Mac, so they decided to try their luck in the land of dreams — the United States. After initially being promised to be back home by christmas, Christine would stay with the band — abroad — for the next 28 years. She would be a driving force and function as the fierce and headstrong but at the same time caring and peacekeeping den mother of the group, captivating countless souls with her love drunken songs.

In 1975 the somewhat unlucky band that was Fleetwood Mac found themselves in need of personell once again. After all of their lead guitarists had either gone insane, joined a cult, were fired for infidelity or left to do their own thing, in particularly that order, the band anew, was missing a crucial part of their lineup leaving them with an uncertain future. Their luck seemed to have turned as a new guitarist was quickly found, only to discover that he came as a package — with a girl.

Stephanie Lynn Nicks was the grand daughter of an understated country singer who took little Stevie on stage when she was only five years old. Having grown up around music, writing songs since she was a teenager, she was trying to make it big with her boyfriend in the city of angels. Her dreamy lyrics and hoarse, rusty voice was a welcome contrast to Christine‘s neat and upbeat love songs and it was soon clear she would fit right in. Even after splitting with the very boyfriend that brought her into the band, she would stay on as the main focalizer and diligent contributor for decades to come.

Both of those women were in their own way unique and oh so contraire but still stuck together, having each others backs. Neither jealousy nor competition seemed to be able to break them apart. They were co-existing in the sometimes toxic but oh so vital eco-system that was Fleetwood Mac forming a symbioses, as friends, keeping each other sane and most importantly alive and kicking — kicking in the glass ceiling that was the male dominated scene of 70s music and thus paving the way for so many talented young girl-singers, songwriters and musicians to come.

Christine once casually stated in an interview upon being asked if she ever felt the got enough credit, that nobody ever really said, ‘thanks for groundbreaking‘, so here it is: Thank you, ladies. Thank you, Christine McVie, queen of the keys and Stevie Nicks, goddess of the stage, for groundbreaking, for being role models in many more ways than just your talent in music. Thanks for sticking up for each other, for lifting each other up instead of taking each other down, for showing us what true and honest sisterhood is all about. Thank you from the bottom of the heart of just another girl out there trying to make it.

#international women's day #christine mcvie #stevie nicks #fleetwood mac #linda ronstadt #agnetha fältskog #anni frid lyngstad #grace slick #patti smith #ann wilson #nancy wilson #rock #women in rock #trailblazer #groundbreaking

[hauntedparadisebandana]

141 x drummer!femreader

Summary: fanboy soap drags the group to a downtown bar to see his favorite band member play live.

Pt 1/2

Warnings: swearing, implied scent kink??, Mentions of drinking, Y/H means your height

[The pov's switch in this story]

*7:00 pm, downtown bar*

The bell rings as the group enters, doors shutting behind them, they stand there, taking in their surroundings. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, the lights above are dim, giving the atmosphere a chill vibe. The group takes a seat in a booth near the stage.

"Why are we here again?" Grumbles ghost, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. He was forced to come on the groups adventure downtown.

"We're here to see the band play. They're one of my favorites." Explains soap, being the ring leader of the trip, excitement coursing through his viens.

"Couldn't you just listen to their music back at base?" "But it wouldn't be the same, plus now I get to see 'em live." Ghost huffs at his response, leaning back into the seat. He always ended up on soaps trips, whether he wanted to or not.

"What's the band called? I may have heard of them before." Says gaz leaning in.

"The Deck, a total of five people, each named after a card. They mostly play rock/metal, and a few of 'em can sing. My favorite member is the drummer."

"Hm, never took you for the metal head type, soap." Quips price, coming to set down their drinks, then popping a seat by gaz.

"Well, ye learn something new every day, gaz what time is it?" "It's 7:20, are they playing soon?" "Yep, they play at 7:30 once every week at different bars in town, at the end the drummer gives away her pair of drum sticks she used to play that night, if im lucky she'll give them to me."

This gets a reaction out of everyone, ghost chuckles lightly while price and gaz lets out hearty laughs. At this soap's face flushes red, getting embarrassed, "What's so funny?"

"So the drummers a girl huh, sounds like you're a bit of a fan boy." "Am not!" "Are too! You even know what time they play each week! And that the drummer gives away her sticks, whats next, their favorite colors, foods?"

Soaps flushes more, face red as a tomato as he leans back and turns away, "You know what, gaz, I officially hate you." "So you do know all that! Admit it, you are a fan boy!" "You are such a dick! I only know because they said it in an interview!"

Price laughs at soap and Gaz's bantering, getting a little chuckle out of ghost as well.

"Don't worry soap, it's cute how much of a fan boy you are for the drummer," gaz leans in and starts to pinch soap's cheeks, cooing and babying him; earning him a swift punch to the arm.

"That's enough out of you two, they're coming."

"What? No joke?!" Soap whips his head around to look at the stage. No one's on. When he turns around, gaz is laughing into his hand, and price hides his smirk in his glass of whiskey.

"Captain! I thought we were cool, now yer teasing me too?"

"Sorry soap, couldn't resist, but they're coming on for real this time" as he points to the stage the members bring out equipment, setting up quickly as possible, when they finish and take their places. The singer up front, the guitarist to the right, drummer on the far right. On the other side is the bass and second guitarist to the far left. The group could see the appeal, she was hard to miss.

"Soap, if you don't stop staring so hard, your eyes might fall out of your head." gaz laughs again, placing a hand on soaps shoulder.

"Just look at 'er tattoos! They're awesome. "

You could see ghost perk up at 'tattoos' she has officially piqued his interest, but he didn't want to show it, so he just stared at her intricate ink. Her most visible tattoos are on her arms, one arm is a full sleeve, the other arm has scattered tattoos. There is one peeking above her neck line of her shirt, it goes down between her breasts. Ghost nodded slowly, taking in her appearance. She was special, different, the whole band was, and the group liked that. Slightly extroverted, and bold, ready to fuck shit up.

"Aint she a sight for sore eyes" price mumbles, taking a longer sip, the thoughts coming faster than he can drink. "Ghost I can tell you're thinking, You looking at her too?" Says price quietly, taking another sip of whiskey, it turns out ghost can't hide his emotions from everyone,

"She's different..." "That she is," Price chuckles,

"I told you guys, she's cool,"

Suddenly the main lights turn off, and the stage lights come on, illuminating the band. after the singer gives introductions they begin to play. It seems as if the group controlled the bar entirely, the music was bassy, compelling, loud; and the people seemed to like it, as most sung along screaming. The drums and guitar had a solo part, and soap almost melted, gaz just laughed at him. Soon, the song was over, the last echo of sound was heard and the bar erupted into yells, claping and whistling.

By the end of the songs, the group was tipsy, with soap and gaz almost on the edge of being drunk. The group sits there in awe for a moment. The experience was new. "I'll say, that wasn't half bad, I like their style." Price crosses his arms.

"Yeah, you picked good soap," Ghost nods to soap. "I knew you would come around ghost! They're good, right? The way they play is amazing!" "Uh oh, he's fanboying again." "I'll kick your arse."

*y/n pov*

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, taking a swig of water. Me and my band mates smile and wave taking in the praise, the excitement. "Now it's time for the fun part, y/n, pick the lucky winner for tonight's sticks."

I smirk and quickly look around, I spot a booth close to the stage. A total of four men sat there, all looking at me. They're all cuties at that. The one sporting a mohawk had a twinkle in his eyes; a true metal lover at heart, I assume. I nod to the leader, hopping off the stage quickly making my way to the booth. The guards follow close behind, ensuring my safety. As I got closer, their eyes got wide. I take the guy with a Mohawk hands, giving him my drum sticks, my glossy lips form a grin as he stares at me, like a child meeting santa for the first time.

"You're tonight's lucky one." I smile at him sweetly, nodding to the rest of his table mates. Up close, everyone is rather handsome, their eyes drilling into my face, focus y/n. I make my way back to the stage, putting up my equipment, getting ready to leave.

*pov, 141*

Soap sits there, jaw slack and eyes wide. Gaz busts out laughing for the third time this night, and price smirks. "I-I got 'er sticks, I really got 'er sticks!" He exclaimed

"You sure did soap,"

"I don't know if anyone noticed, but damn she smells good," adds gaz. "Her smell is strong, sweet." "It's intoxicating." Ghost mumbles, rubbing his temple, the bourbon was finally getting to him. Her smell is like a sweet musk, hard to rub off, hard to get rid of. He remembers the way her bracelets and bangles jingled, sweet music to his ears. Fuck. He could feel something straining.

"'er voice is sweet too.... and her smile, shes really cool." "Oooook fanboy soap has gotten delirious." "Am not!" "Are too! Stop denying it!" "Whatever!" Their words slur a bit. Maybe they were a bit drunk after all.

Price sighs, rubbing his head at the twos antics. "I'm grabbing another drink, care to join?"

"Yeah, I'll go, but just to move around. I've been sitting so long it feels like my ass is glued to the seat." Gaz complains, holding his head in his hands.

"Let's go." The entire group gets up to get drinks, soap gasps as he spots y/n. She took her shirt of some time ago, now only in a sports bra, showing off her rad back tattoo. She stands with her hands in her pocket. The second guitarist is also standing, leaning against the booth talking to her, laughing.

"You should've seen the way he was looking at you! It was like looking at a kid seeing gifts under the tree."

"I seen his expression, I thought he was gonna get emotional and start crying right there as I gave him the sticks!"

the guitarist smirks glancing past y/n, "speak of the devil, it's the kid on Christmas and his group."

"Oh hush spade, leave the man alone."

We get closer to hear y/n hush the guitarist, we sit at the bar near where they stand, away from her and the guy, too drunk and weary to make decisions. Plus, the band's guards were close by, best not to piss them off. The guitarist continues to look over at us

"You know you guys can stand by us right, join us, we don't bite....well, I do but y/n doesn't." He pulls y/n in by the shoulder, to which she punches him.

"Don't listen to this jackass, come, it's safe to sit over here." She waves us over, inviting us to join her, those same bracelets and bracelets making the same sweet noise.

*y/n pov*

Theres a bit of an akward silence for a moment, I tap my hands on my thighs. Its then broken as the guy to my right speaks up, his voice rough and deep, smooth around the edges. It sends a shudder through my body, the smell of cigar smoke and cologne fills my senses.

"These are my men, ghost, gaz, and soap, I'm price." Each one nods and greets me as price says their name. Spade always being a dick has to speak up,

"So the kid on Christmas is soap, hm," he takes a sip of his drink, I pinch him after he says this.

"ignore him, so, what brings you guys downtown tonight..." I say, taking spades cup and taking a sip of whatever he's drinking.

"Well, our buddy soap here wanted to come see you guys live." Gaz grabs soap by the shoulders, shaking him.

"See us live hm? You a big fan?" I grin, looking soap right in his eyes, questioning him.

"Well-" "He's a huge fan, he knows the times you play, where you play, he even watches the group interview-" "Yes, I'm a fan," he says, cheeks red. Hand slapped over gazs mouth to hush him.

I put down my glass, "Oh, well we love very dedicated fans, don't we spade." "Mhm, love em'"

I lean back, looking at the two. The big one to my left, ghost, speaks up.

"Your tattoos..."

"Hm, what about them?" I look up at him, fuck he's tall, about 5 inches taller than me, as I'm Y/H. He looks about 5'10-6'2, well built, pure muscle, and oh that accent... he could easily crush me-

"Where do you get them done..." those eyes

"I do most myself, others I get a friend to do. I run a tattoo shop in my spare time."

"You have talent, y/n" price speaks up, smiling at me.

"Oh you flatter me," I joke, placing a hand on my chest. "No really, you play in a band, run a tattoo shop along with doing your own tattoos? That's pure talent that deserves recognition."

"Why thank you price," I laugh, running a hand through my hair, getting it out my face.

He nods down at me, I look at him. I see something shift in his expression, it was dark, hungry, I don't question it one bit; getting that all to familiar feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I squeeze my thighs. His eyes are a deep shade of blue, all of theirs are blue, except for gaz, his are a pretty shade of rich brown

"You smell really good..." gaz perks up,

"Ah, that's my perfume, strawberry poundcake, got it as a gift."

"..." Gaz soon has the same aura price had, hungry, wanting. I catch onto this quickly. Feeling my stomach jump I avert my eyes, looking for a distraction. Maybe he's just drunk...

"Hey y/n we need to head out, ace is tired of waiting and hes starting to bitch about it." Thank fucking god

"Ace is tired of everything" I sigh turning back to the group. "I gotta run boys, but me and the group will be down here tomorrow around 7:00 for an off day, if you wanna join."

"Sure lass, we'll join ya" soap nods eagerly, getting the others to agree even in their drunken states.

"Ok that's great! See you soon." I turn on my heels to run after spade who had started leaving without me. Face flushed and the feeling still in the pit of my stomach. Still feeling their eyes drilling into my back, I slide out the bar doors.

#mwii #i accidentally posted this from my que #finished #kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod mw2 #i should sleep

[dustedmagazine]

Aluminum — Fully Beat (Felte)

A bare wire bass bumps and sputters, all by itself for an interval, then in conversation with a tense snare-heavy drum syncopation.  Then, the guitars chime in, bright, lingering chords, then a friction-y scramble.  Marc Leyda enters serenely, his delivery somewhere between a chant and a melody.  It’s all very full of space, each part distinct and interlocking, at least until the chorus starts, a wild overload of everything that is nonetheless enticingly tuneful.  It’s a whirl and a swirl and a tidal wave of shoe-gazy sonic sensation and very much the best part of the song — which is “Smile,” the first one on this debut album from Aluminum. 

Comparisons to My Bloody Valentine, Swervedriver, Primal Scream and Happy Mondays are not entirely off the mark, in these overdriven guitar confections, which wail and scream and shriek and probably bust eardrums live, yet, on the record sound surprisingly gentle.  The band, from San Francisco, convenes established talent from multiple other bands—guitarists Leyda and Austin Montanari from Wild Moth, singer-bassist Ryann Gonsalves from Torrey and drummer Chris Natividad from Marbled Eye, Public Interest and sundry other projects—and gives them room to run. 

There’s a good deal of variation in these tracks.  “Smile” and “Always Here, Never There,” sound most like My Bloody Valentine, while “HaHa” has a 4AD-ish dream pop drift.  “Behind My Mouth,” though, has a hard-charging, psychedelic boogie-ing grooviness that might remind you of Primal Scream, alongside a girl punk bratty charm that sounds a bit like the Muffs.  Since it’s the single, let’s unpack the elements, a spare, defiant drumbeat, Gonsalves spitting a disdainful “Huh,” someone else chuckling darkly, and then a rolling, spiraling, surging wave of guitar noise that moves with a swagger and purpose.  Gonsalves has a soft, edgeless way of singing, but there are sharp bits lodged in the earworms.  “Do you ever see behind my mouth?” is a taunt as much as a question; when you’re obsessing about her lips, you’re missing what she has to say.   

Aluminum can also enter the serene, mind-bending spaces frequented by Spiritualized, as on the drift-y, dreaming “Call Me an Angel,” which spins out in hypnogogic circles only to snap back to the drumbeat, rock solid amid hallucinatory expanses. 

The sound varies, combining different proportions of tune and squall in different songs.  The balance is the thing: no matter how wildly the guitars howl, there’s a thread of melody, no matter how sweetly the vocal line runs, it’s braced by an unflinching thwack of drums.  This is an album you can sing to or get lost in, that can provide solace or burn the whole house down.  It’ll be one of my favorites for 2024 for sure.   

Jennifer Kelly

#aluminum #fully beat #felte #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #shoegaze #dream pop #san francisco #Bandcamp

[bellamybellamyblake]

OBX Rock Band AU (headcanon)

Characters:

jj maybank, john b routledge, pope hayward, kiara carrera, sarah cameron

Word Count:

~700

A/N:

i have no idea if this has been done before but the idea came to me the other night in the shower lol. i’m in a band so you can guess what i loosely based this on

JJ - Drums

is my opinion biased on this one? probably

my favorite band member and character

the one with the most problems

drinks a little too much,  stoner

personal life in shambles most of the time

once he found the drums as an outlet he dove into it, eventually becoming an intensely devoted musician 

that drum set has seen some things

jj lets his anger out on that poor, innocent drum set

all the different pieces have had to be replaced so many times because he beats the living shit out of them

the one that got john b into rock music and the rest was history

he's not one of the chill drummers who just shows up and does their thing, this man is a show-off

so many tricks

long solos whenever the chance arises for one

flirts with the entire band

music genres: rock, grunge, alt, metal

bands/artists: Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard

John B - Lead Vocals/Rhythm Guitar

a no-brainer. this is practically canon

no i will not be hearing opposing opinions at this time

he's the frontman

the one most people's eyes are drawn to right away

controls the vibe in the room

him and jj put on a show

stoner

is naturally a gifted singer, but had a vocal coach for a little while to get some pointers

rhythm guitar because most rock songs need at least two guitars and he's played guitar since he was a kid just for fun

music genres: country, rock, alt, pop when jj isn't around

bands/artists: The Rolling Stones, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, Aerosmith, Taylor Swift, Johnny Cash 

Pope - Lead Guitar/Band Manager

he's just there to vibe but also an incredibly skilled guitarist 

the one that tries extremely hard to keep everyone on track, but can't because no one listens to him

also the one that found kiara and Sarah

he's classically trained, but he only did classical as a kid because that's what he thought the smart kids were supposed to do

he plays like Slash: relatively controlled body language, but his fingers fly back and forth on the frets 

music nerd

everyone can tell he loves what he's doing

manager because who else would manage these fools?

music genres: rock, alt, indie rock

bands/artists: Falling in Reverse, Foo Fighters, Arctic Monkeys, Green Day, Hozier, The Killers, The 1975

Kiara - Bass

i will not be accepting arguments on this one

she 100% grew up on cello, but wanted to rebel against her parents as a teen and switched to rock but realized she fucked with it

this girl is hot as all hell and knows it, but has nothing to prove

she's one of the more responsible members of the group but also super laid-back

stoner

effortlessly keeps everyone in check 

she just wants to vibe and play some songs

flirts with the entire band

weird, hippie, earthy screams bass player

music genres: indie rock, r&b, pop punk, anything from the '60s and '70s

bands/artists: Janis Joplin, The Strokes, Young The Giant, Hozier, Paramore, Joan Jett, Whitney Houston

Sarah - Backup Vocals

she was definitely an attention seeker in her young years and would've hated backup, but now she's perfectly content chilling in the background with some killer harmonies 

she has a few songs she leads in the set when john b needs a rest

she absolutely KILLS them

but she loves playing with the melody and adding a harmony on something that you wouldn't expect

this girl has perfect pitch so harmonizing takes about 3% effort from her

if a song is too low for her or too high for john b, she transposes everything (perfect pitch and all)

she will. not. touch. an electric guitar with a 10-foot pole. 

don't ask, i have no explanation for that one

on the occasion a song needs keys, she's the go-to

music genres: she's a retired theatre kid so she listens to just about everything under the sun except country

bands/artists: Taylor Swift, The Beatles, Queen, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Knicks, Amy Winehouse

#outer banks #obx #obx headcanon #john b routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx cast #obx fic #obx x reader #rock music #rockband au #alternate universe

[sam-loves-seb]

gallavich questions

thanks for the tag (and the questions) @callivich !!

What’s a fic you’ve read more than once? intro to quantum dating by @spoonfulstar, i think i've read it 3 or 4 times now, it's one of my all time favorites

What’s a gifset you always have to reblog? anytime i see a gifset from that one s5 deleted scene, yeah that one, i have to reblog

What’s a headcanon you can’t stop thinking about? i have a very specific headcanon for a tattoo ian gets post-canon for mickey, and i hesitate to even explain it now bc i think one day i do wanna write a fic about him getting it, but whatever--my headcanon is that he gets an M tattooed on his left ring finger and it's a subtle yet sweet nod to his husband. (i could talk about this for 9 hours but i will limit myself and stop here)

What’s a fanart you love looking at? i've spent an obscene amount of time staring at this fanart by @doodlevich it just checks all my boxes (domestic, husbands, fluff, etc.) and it's so well done, i'm obsessed with this pieces

What’s an idea you’d love to create if you had the time/inspiration? listen, i have this idea for a rock band au that lives rent fucking free in my head, and if i can find the time and the inspiration to actually turn these vibes and unorganized plot points into actual words and a coherent story in the new year, then maybe it'll see the light of day in 2024 but no promises. for now, i leave you with this: four milkovich siblings are in a rock band that is rising to success with the launch of their second studio album and subsequent tour, and ian gallagher is lead singer mandy's (fake) boyfriend--at least in the eyes of the public--and he spends some time that summer touring with the band and hooking up with their lead guitarist in secret until the band's manager/father catches wind of what's going on behind closed doors

What’s something you’ve discovered since entering this fandom? A new trope you love? A different analysis of the show? Something else? i've always been a post-canon enthusiast for almost all of my ships, but i think before gallavich i always envisioned them with a very cookie cutter standard american dream family with the house and the careers and the 2.5 kids, which usually fits a lot of my ships, but with gallavich i... don't have that same vision ?? i think they're actually my first ship that i hc more often than not without kids in their post canon life, which is a new vibe for me entirely but i kinda love reading/writing it. idk if that answers the question you asked, but it definitely answered a question

What’s an underrated trope or concept you’d like to see more of? honestly i want more s9/10 prison era gallavich fics (and/or fanart). i think it's a gold mine era with so much untapped potential, and there are very few fics/series/whatever that really get deep with it and get to the good stuff of these two boys who haven't spent any significant time together in years but still love each other like they did way back when

What’s your favourite season? And has this changed after multiple rewatches of the show? it flip-flops for me between s4 and s5, like right now i think it's s5 but idk if i could actually pick one or the other as my absolute favorite

What’s a plot hole you wish had been answered or resolved? i would give my left arm to know how the fuck (and why the fuck) mickey started rolling with his dad again in post-prison s10 era, like in 10x08 he's going to terry for advice on how to protect ian, just for terry to try to kill him again 3 episodes later ??? make it make sense john wells i'm under your bed

What scene or moment do you feel isn’t discussed enough? personally i think the promise ring scene in 10x09 is criminally underrated and not talked about nearly enough, like you don't understand how happy that scene made me (stay with me here) seeing mickey stand up and fight for the future he really wants with ian and not settling for anything less

What line/dialogue/description from something else (a poem, a book, a tv show, a movie, or something else) do you feel describes Ian and Mickey’s relationship? can i do song lyrics? i'm gonna do song lyrics--i've always thought the song godlight by noah kahan was very gallavich, especially the chorus, and especially during s4/5/6 era and it may or may not be a piece of inspiration for my big bang canon divergent fic

What do you think is next for Ian and Mickey post-finale? i think they take a while to really settle into their new place and and make it their own, and it's a bit of an adjustment (for both of them) to fit in with this new crowd and this new environment, but they're learning how to grow and evolve together and at the end of the day that's all that really matters to the both of them

tagging: literally anyone who wants to play bc my brain is tired and i am too tired to try and remember everyone i probably should tag

#gallavich meta #gallavich questions

[sailorspica]

reijean hitchannie college band AU headcanons that may not lead to fic form but i feel strongly about because i did undergrad at a huge university with a prestigious music school where everyone was depressed + i've been giffing kids on the slope (2012) w reiner's seiyuu + the given akihiko/haruki reijean agenda:

all the warriors grew up playing classical music w/ varying degrees of parental pressure, for example mr leonhart is a violinist and annie's first and forever teacher so maybe she maims him here too (he's like jk simmons in whiplash); karina is into classical music as a status symbol

by contrast hitch and jean know how to have fun. hitch learned everything from youtube, jean's mom let him quit piano lessons as a kid so he came back to it on his own when he realized it was cool/thought it could get him girls (it doesn't) (inspo: nick cave)

annie (lead/rhythm guitar), hitch (vocals/rhythm guitar/octave pedal "bass"), jean (vocals/keys/bass), reiner (drums). reiner would do bass if he had sukuna arms

reijean meet in intro to audio engineering which counts as a science class for some reason, form the band after roping annie into their final recording project; annie's an undeclared part-time student who mostly works

first they try marco as rhythm guitarist but he is too jazzy and cannot wrap his mind around rock tone, annie is furious (low stakes version of trost; sounds derogatory but marco just looks like a jazz guy)

hitch is a business major who thinks music is a hobby, kinda yasu from nana energy. annie recruits her after overhearing her teaching/berating marlowe before he absolutely bombs an open mic night

hitch is an acoustic girlie (dark ukulele past) but annie and jean take her shopping and she picks a danelectro stock '59

annie plays a jaguar bc of her short fingers, she's some combo of lindsey jordan / luna li but also j mascis

reiner's favorite drummer is karen carpenter, deadass

hitch is the least disciplined which equal turns teaches them to relax but incites rage, annie and jean lock her in a room w reiner bc this bitch cannot count

everyone sings but especially hitch and jean, the vibe is michelle zauner and craig hendrix; i think they hype up the other two who are very self conscious

main songwriters are annie and jean, jean finds jazzy chords that hitch hates

annie was concertmaster of her arts magnet high school orchestra until mikasa showed up and the worst part is violin is mikasa's like, tertiary instrument; now they are ex-gf roommates

opera singer mikasa ruins lives, she is kissing kissing mezzo historia in boy drag (inverse girl armin) in uhhh idk la clemenza di tito

ymir is probably a drummer in a nu riot grrrl band, root of her frenemyship with reiner, also i think she's trying to steal annie and/or hitch

reiner is a cello performance major who became interested in rock percussion after hooking up w eren; eren's taste is incredibly lame, he likes like, dave grohl

eren and mikasa both did piano lessons as kids and she forces him to be her accompanist most of the time, but he and jean tag in and out ever since eren gave himself gamer's carpal tunnel before mikasa's first jury freshman year

jean is Not a music major but he makes money as music majors' accompanist; he could be studio art? or something "reasonable" (a la the MPs, business school hitch), like cybersecurity

annie and marcel = violin, pieck and bertie = viola, reiner and porco = cello

bertolt is living studio ghibli whisper of the heart in italy

for the first half of undergrad reiner lived with marcel in place of porco bc that little shit felt smothered by the galliards bUyINg a whole apartment for their boys, but when marcel graduated pocco moved in and uhhhhh evicted reiner, who thought he had saved enough to make it on his own by living rent free but uhhhhh karina stole it

uhhh pieck looks like my first gay crush (a violist opera singer) so let's say she's studying abroad

point is, reiner is isolated through no one's direct fault, really, besides pock; annie is his closest friend in town and she's such a tsundere about it. he lived on her and mikasa's couch for a week but will never return because it was too awkward even for his broke ass

#my aot fanfiction is: post-rumbling political criticism and/or pushing my hobbies onto blorbos #anyway #hitchannie #reijean #☽ #♀

[joons]

Have Brian Wilson and Elvis every been connected in any way? Like, did they ever meet, listen to each other's music, etc.? If not, what do you think would have happened if they had?

Brian adored Elvis, as most teenagers did in the early '50s and '60s. Brian covered "Blue Christmas" in 1964 and often cited Elvis as one of his musical inspirations. Brian loved him for his vocal abilities, not just his status as a rock-n-roller: "I liked Elvis Presley’s songs," he said. "... I thought Elvis was a very underrated singer, he was a very good singer. He was more of a star. He was known more for his fame than his voice. I think he deserved more credit for his voice."

Brian's affinity for Elvis is evident in his stage setup for his Smile concerts in 2004, which was the first time his incomplete masterpiece (originally set for release in 1967) was performed in its entirety for the public. Brian, like Elvis, has dealt with extreme stage fright for most of his career, so for inspiration, he includes notes from his band and an image of Elvis on his keyboard.

According to band members Mike, Al, and Bruce, Elvis did know the Beach Boys and got to meet some of them in 1968 when he was preparing to resume live appearances and recording tracks for the Comeback Special.

AL JARDINE: Bruce (Johnston) and I met Elvis in the late '60s. He was working in the studio across the hall from us at Western. Bruce and I went over and introduced ourselves and he was very delighted to see us. He was trim and great looking, just like his album covers. He hadn’t gone back out on the road yet. We encouraged him to get back to work and he took us up on it. MIKE LOVE: He was in the big room at Western and had his cape on at the time (laughs). He was preparing to go back out on tour and he was asking us, “Well, what’s it like?” He was a really kind gentleman. He couldn’t have been nicer. He definitely knew who The Beach Boys were. You couldn’t not be aware of who The Beach Boys were in the '60s.

Brian was not with them at the time and never got to see Elvis perform live, but their careers continued to connect in interesting ways. Jerry Schilling, a member of the Memphis Mafia and good friend of Elvis, departed Elvis' group in 1976 to begin managing the Beach Boys full time. He became good friends with the band, especially Carl Wilson, the youngest Wilson brother. "After Elvis, Carl was my closest friend," Jerry said. After Elvis' death in 1977, Carl offered to visit with Vernon Presley, Elvis' dad, to spend time with him and get his mind off his grief.

Jerry Schilling was also married to Myrna Smith, a member of the Sweet Inspirations, a gospel group that provided backing vocals for all of Elvis' stage shows. Myrna wrote the lyrics for many of Carl's solo projects, including a tribute song for Elvis that was being considered as the theme song for the 1981 documentary This Is Elvis. Carl wrote the music, played guitar and sang backing vocals, and Myrna wrote the lyrics and sang. The song was abandoned, but the demo tapes were recovered not too long ago.

JERRY SCHILLING: The song ... tells who Elvis was … the lyrics and the music. It’s simple, it’s sweet, and it’s deep. It’s emotional to talk about it, because all three of these people – who were so close to me in my life – are all gone. But boy, this is a great piece of all of their music left behind honoring Elvis, and done by Carl and Myrna.

Elvis and Brian also both got to work closely with guitarist James Burton. Burton was much more of a long-term staple for Elvis, but he played in sessions for Smile and remembered how Brian would invite musicians to his home and make them spend the night so they could play at all hours.

Now, we get to the best part: Brian and Elvis did meet once, and it's one of my favorite stories of all time. Here is Brian telling the story on The Tonight Show.

It's been told a few different ways (Brian, bless him, is sort of an unreliable narrator, so bear this in mind), but every version is just incredible.

JAMES BURTON: I walked into the big studio, and Brian Wilson was in there mixing a record that I played on. And he said, "Whatcha doing here, man?" [I said,] "I’m in the next room with Elvis rehearsing." He said, "Oh! Please, please take me to meet Elvis." I took him in and he walked up to Elvis and was just looking at him. And Elvis stuck his hand out to shake hands and he couldn’t move. Daily Express/Elvis Birthday Celebration at Graceland, 2020

•••

JERRY SCHILLING: We were at a rehearsal session at RCA Studios in Hollywood, and Elvis always prided himself on our security. There was security at the studio as well. This big, overweight, bearded guy came into the studio and went right up to Elvis and went, "Hi Elvis, I'm Brian." And Elvis was very upset with us thinking, "How did this guy get in here and who is he?" So Brian said, "I'm recording next door. Would you come over and listen?" And Elvis looked at us; it's almost in spite of us since this guy had gotten through. He said, "Yeah, I'll go over."  So we went over, and Terry Melcher, Doris Day's son, was producing. Terry played a track for Elvis, and Brian said, "Do you think we have anything?" And Elvis said, "No." And we went back to our studio. Later, the security guys told us it was Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys. elvis.com.au

•••

BRIAN WILSON: I was recording with Terry Melcher at RCA Victor Records in 1975. We were working on the song “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” Terry said, “Hey, Elvis is in the next studio recording.” That was a big surprise to hear he was in the studio next to me. So I walked into the studio and said, “Hi, I’m Brian Wilson,” and he goes, “Hello, Duke.” I don’t know why he called me Duke. I said, “Would you like to hear what I’m doing in the studio?” and he said yes. So we walked over to my studio and listened to what I was doing and then said he had to leave. It was a thrill to meet him and he was real happy to meet me. Rock Cellar, 2013

•••

BRIAN WILSON: Yeah, around 1969 we were recording in the same place as Elvis, and I asked him if he’d come across the way to our studio. He shook my hand and goes, “I’ve heard a lot about you. How you doin’, Duke?” He called me “Duke,” don’t ask me why. (laughs) So I figured okay, Elvis is like me, a joker, so I’m going to play a little joke on him. I knew he was a black belt, so I faked a karate chop and a kick at him. He blocked them both easily, and I started cracking up, to show him I was kidding, but he didn’t think it was funny and said, “Hey, Duke, don’t do that.” I said, “Hey man, I’m just kidding around.” So we talked about music for a few minutes, about “Good Vibrations,” and then the conversation sort of died down, so, to liven things up, I threw another karate chop at him. He backed up in his chair, says, “I’m a little worried about you, Duke,” and then signaled to his boys that they were leaving. I never saw him again. I regret that. He was quite an artist. Interview with Alex Simon, 2012

•••

What has been your most embarrassing moment? BRIAN WILSON: When I karate chopped Elvis Presley. He called me "Duke" - I was so nervous I acted stupid. It was in 1975 at RCA Victor Studios. After I did that, he said, "I gotta get outta here." The Guardian, 2004

BLESS HIS HEART.

This was definitely in 1975, not 1969, while Elvis was working on "Pieces of My Life" from the Today album. Around this time, Brian was mostly just fussing around in the studio, trying to come up with the Beach Boys' next album and attempting to produce small songs for other acts. Brian says he met Elvis while recording "Why Do Fools Fall in Love," which most likely means not his 1964 version but the version he was producing for California Music, a supergroup involving Terry Melcher, Bruce Johnston, Dean Torrence, and others.

This is the song he played for Elvis, most likely.

BRIAN: Do you think we have anything? ELVIS: No.

I agree with E, I think; you had to have the biggest brain imaginable to understand Brian's sound in the mid-'70s. The songs he'd come up with over the next two years are awesome, but weird, and you can tell this is an early effort in a period where he wasn't really trying very hard to complete anything. Actually laughing so hard at Elvis listening to this and just 😬

I don't think Elvis was actually mad or anything, there are a thousand stories of him and his bodyguards reacting quickly to any sudden movement and then relaxing once they realized it was just an overeager fan, and Brian is the biggest wild card, lmao. I'm sure if Elvis had no idea who he was at the time or how he got in, he was probably a bit unsettled but didn't want to be rude. Also very likely that Elvis was bored out of his mind recording in this time period and just wanted an excuse to procrastinate.

Getting back to the other ways they're connected, I love what Brian said, "Elvis is like me, a joker." That's so true. They are both always the Weirdest Person in the Room, which you can SEE in this brief meeting. It kind of makes me think they wouldn't get each other unless circumstances were ideal to really let loose. They both had bonkers, deadpan humor that would go over most people's heads, and they both loved playing pranks on people. I think they would enjoy talking about music and spirituality as well, though Brian would have to keep it to non-drug-related revelations. They are also both girl dads, and it makes me happy just to imagine Lisa, Carnie, and Wendy all playing together. Carnie and Lisa were almost the exact same age, born just two months apart. 🥺

And, to wrap up this incredibly pointless deep dive, what I would wish most is that them knowing each other would have sped up their mutual healing. Brian to me represents the impossible, one-in-a-million shot where the cycle of exploitation that befalls sensitive, genius people in the industry breaks, and someone who was taken advantage of regains control of their life and makes their art on their own terms. Like Elvis, Brian also dealt with enormous creative pressure at a young age, crippling stage fright, a sense of alienation from his peers, a longing to go beyond formulaic music and tap into deeper emotions, binge eating and general disregard for his own health, problems with overmedication, and eventually an abusive manager who controlled all aspects of his personal life. And just ... somehow, he got out of all that and got another chance. I dearly wish Elvis had had more time. Both their stories show how precious life is and how important it is that our loved ones advocate for us, even when we're unable or unready to advocate for ourselves. And to keep responding to the joy and humor and heart in ordinary experiences and people, even when life feels hard.

And they're both so funny, pleeeeeease.

#elvis presley #brian wilson #the beach boys #(brain damage) #(it's my party and i get to pick the breakdown)

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly 1. Before the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

warnings: It's the Daisy Jones and the Six!AU, Enemies to friends to lovers, Love triangles, sex, drugs, rock and roll, etc., fake relationships, bad parents all around.

MASTERLIST🎸

Prologue 🎤

WC: 3.4K

A/N: long time reader, first time poster. Please share your thoughts and any tips you may have. ❤️❤️

***

STEVE: Right, so I just start talking into this microphone thing?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, but you need to introduce yourself first.

STEVE: You know who I am, we’ve known each other for—ah, okay, okay sorry. I’m Steve. Harrington, obviously. Former lead singer and guitarist of The Downsides. So, uh, where do I start?

INTERVIEWER: The beginning—tell me about how you first got involved with music.

STEVE: Right, okay, I can do that. I grew up kinda lonely. My dad was this big real estate investor but we lived in Indiana of all places, so he was always traveling. I don’t think I remember him ever being home for more than a month straight growing up… and my mom was there but she wasn’t there, ya know? She drank a lot and spent a lot of time in bed, that sort of thing.

***

1962-1972, Los Angeles California

Your childhood is a lonely one but it’s also a boring and predictable one.

Born in sun-soaked LA to a movie director father and his much younger model wife, two people who didn’t know each other well enough to either love or hate the other. They maintained a similar distance in their marriage as the one they tried to uphold in their individual relationships with you, their child.

So, your infancy was spent in a rotation of different nanny’s arms with your parents’ presence only dotting the periphery of your life. Who could blame them, after all? Infants are so contrived and boring compared to the big, wide, world of art that was Los Angeles in the 1960s.  Your parents were far too busy trying to cement their legacy in the art they created and inspired to spend too much time looking after you.

(Much later in life, you would find yourself wondering if your parents ever saw the irony  in the fact that your art ended up eclipsing their entire existence in the end and their only legacy was that of being your parents.)

As a child, however, you spent little time thinking of legacy and instead spent your time trying to feel less lonely.

***

STEVE: When I was a kid I would wonder why my parents even had me. Sorry, that’s like a total bummer thing to say during an interview. But it’s true. And you said to tell the truth. I never felt wanted by them. Until I got famous, and even then… but that’s not new,  a lot of kids grow up feeling lonely, right?

***

The employees who raised you were nice enough, but they saw you for what you were: a means to an end. A paycheck with big, sad, beautiful eyes that may beget sympathy, but they couldn’t get too close to.  The children you came to meet at your elite California private school seemed palatable enough at first, but the more you interacted with them, the more you found yourself at a loss. It was like they spoke a secret language you did not know—a language of price tags, and ever-changing hierarchies and thinly-veiled insults. One that your mother spoke perfectly, but never bothered to pass down to you.

You end up turning to books instead. The home library your father kept up for appearances’ sakes became your favorite room in the house and your teenage growth spurts were fed by any and all novels you could get your hands on from historical biographies to soapy romances, you read them all.  You loved them all, but you loved poetry the most— emotive and raw in ways you were unfamiliar with. You liked the way the syllables rolled gracefully into one another and how each word served a purpose—compact with meaning and so unlike the people around you who were so careless with their words.

As you began to age, and the meaningless mess of childhood shifted into the sharpness of adolescence, you began to write yourself. One day, somehow you had the idea of putting your poetry to music. If you could write songs good enough to be played on the radio then maybe you could earn people's adoration through your art like your parents had, you reasoned. Maybe you could even earn their adoration. You beg your parents for piano lessons, and they scoff at the thought.  “But what’s the point of having one if no one can play it?” You ask, referencing the piano in the grand foyer.

“That piano is not meant to be played,” your mother explains, slowly, “it’s meant to be admired by our guests.”

She walks away from the conversation before you can even protest.

Instead of giving up, though, you went to the library and borrowed all the books you could on music and piano playing and slowly began to teach yourself. You were not very good, at first, and both your parents made a habit of reminding you whenever they were around to hear you practicing. Luckily, they were rarely around.

***

STEVE: My parents signed me up for every single activity and extra-curricular you can think of: karate, basketball, pottery.   The one that really stuck though, was guitar lessons. Soon, that was the only thing I wanted to do it was something I was actually good at. Not something I had potential in, not something I was passable at. It was something I was good at. My dad did not like the idea of me going into music at first—he wanted me to take on a “manlier” hobby—but even he couldn’t deny that I was talented, and he sent me to this specialized music school in Indianapolis. That’s where I met Robin. That’s when I stopped feeling so alone.

ROBIN: Robin Buckley, brass, bass, and synth for The Downsides.

I met Steve when we were thirteen, I think, at this fancy music school in Indianapolis. I was there on scholarship.  I’m not going to lie, he was obnoxious, but most thirteen-year-old boys are. Even then, though, there was something about him that made everyone want to be his friend. He was also really talented. He never had to work very hard to be good at something, but he worked hard anyway. I hated him at first, but he wore me down and we eventually became best friends.

***

1978

Your music became a good outlet for all your loneliness and anger and disappointment, but it was not a cure for any of those things. You craved friendship and commonality and to be liked beyond the surface.

One day, when you were towards the end of seventeen, you decided to go exploring. You had heard Emily Cooke whispering salaciously in the girls’ bathroom at school about sneaking into the Whiskey A Go-Go to see The Six playing and an idea began to blossom.

Your home was only a walking distance from the Strip, the aptly named piece of street that was lined with clubs and musical venues, so that day, after hearing Emily’s plan you decided to try your luck at the Whiskey. You loved music, after all, and you wanted to be good at it, like the musicians that played there. Plus, there were others that shared those interests and the was a chance that some of them would be more tolerable than Emily Cooke.

You waited in line, by yourself, donning an outfit that you hoped made you look older than you were in an organic, cool way. When you made it to the doorman, you smiled trying to look more confident than pleading. His eyes raked over your body once, then twice and you resist the urge to flinch away. You had known then that you were beautiful—mostly because it was the only thing your mother valued in you— but what you hadn’t known was how far just being beautiful could get you. The doorman had let you in the club, not even questioning when your voice wavered while you had told him you were older than you actually were.

***

ROBIN:   Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Steve was my first kiss.

INTERVIEWER: Uh, Robin?

ROBIN: Oh, right…. Well, whatever, Steve Harrington was my first kiss. He was also the first person I told that I liked girls. I knew from a really early age that I didn’t find men attractive but when Steve kissed me at our high school dance I had this immediate realization and I sorta burst out, “Steve, I like girls.” It was a really great moment of self-awareness for me—growing up as a girl, they always try to put you in this box of like feminity and being whatever men wanted you to be, including an object to be looked at or pawned over. I didn’t know how being gay fit into all that, until that moment.

I don’t think it was that great of a moment for Steve, though.

STEVE: She told you about that? Well, for the record, it wasn't that I wasn't happy for her, it's just when you're a teenage boy and if your first crush admits she's a lesbian moments after you kiss her for the first time, well, it does not do your ego any favors, does it?

***

The moment you walked through that door, your life became severed in two: the before and the after. You watched, from the fringe of the crowd, as Billy Dunne crooned soulfully, and the audience sang his own words back to him.

You briefly imagine yourself on the stage, being someone that people would actually want to come see, someone that people would listen to. Someone people would love.  

***

STEVE: I always knew I wanted to be in music. It was the only thing that ever made sense. Wait, no, that’s not right… It’s the only thing that ever made life make sense. So, I started working at it, like seriously working it at, when I was 16. I bought as many records as I could, figured out what I liked, what I could do, and I practiced all the time. Like all the time. Robin did, too. I would play the guitar and sing, and she was insane on the trumpet and bass. I don’t think we ever sat down and had a conversation about whether we wanted to form a band or even what we wanted for ourselves in the future. We just always knew it was going to be the two of us, and we were going to be making music. Of course, you can’t have a band with only a guitar and a trumpet, so we had to start looking for more members.

***

1980

From that point on, your life had purpose.

You began to study everything about music—obsessively. You collected records, you played the piano until your fingers became cramped and sore or until your mother yelled at you to stop.

You filled notebook after notebook with lyrics, some good, many bad.

But you also kept your eyes on the tabloids and the gossip rags and the fashion magazines. To be a successful musician, you had to be good of course, but you also had to be well-liked. Growing up in the environment you did had given you a very unique perspective on this. Since infancy, you had seen hopeful artists-to-be approach your father for a chance, or ask your mother for advice. The most successful of them were not always the ones who had the best things to say, but those who said what they had to say in the best way.

 You practiced giving fake interviews in front of your mirror and in the shower. You stayed on top of trends and bought the best-fitting clothes. And most importantly, you tried to associate yourself with all the right people.

By the time you turned 18, you were well-known, even beyond the Strip. Photos of you standing next to the bass player/drummer/guitarist/lead singer of whatever band might have been riding a momentary wave of popularity at the time began to appear in tabloid magazines.

Most of them were men. Most of them wanted something out of you. You became a master in the art of giving just enough for them to think they had a chance with you if it meant that you could learn from them or convince them to listen to one of your songs. But every time you would even mention the idea that you wrote music, you would come hit a wall of patronizing, feigned interest followed by a grab at your chest.

Then came Jason Carver. Lead singer of the Letterman’s, Jason Carver. You dated him for a few weeks, right after you had turned 18. He was 25 and just charming enough for you to overlook his frequent condescension. Plus, he had promised that he would teach you a few chords on the guitar.

One day, you had come over to his apartment and he was getting all worked up because the band’s label was on his ass about writing a song and he couldn’t quite get it right. He needed to write a love song, something introspective and sweet but Jason could only churn out party anthems and songs meant to be played in dive bars.

Eventually, after hearing him gripe for what seemed like an eternity, you sent him off to take a shower and in the meanwhile compiled all of his shreds of half-lines and began to work filling in the gaps. Forty minutes later, you had a solid chorus and first verse to present to him for a song you thought should have been called “All At Once”. You thought that this would’ve made him happy, after all, you had gotten him one step closer to a possible song. (And maybe, you had secretly hoped, in all of his gratitude he could be swayed to give you a writing credit on the song).  Instead, he laughed at you like you were a child pretending to do an adult task and asked you to leave with a hasty promise that he would call you later that week. He never called. The hurt you felt was only a pin-prick. Six months later, you heard The Letterman’s on the radio: a new song by them called, “All At Once”. You tried to convince yourself for a moment that there would be no way that Jason could blatantly steal your song after having mocked you for even trying to write. But, boy, were you wrong. Those were, in fact, your lyrics, on the radio. Yes, the band had added another verse but, ultimately, your lyrics were all there. The same lyrics Jason had so easily dismissed six months prior.

That was when you realized if you were going to get ahead in the industry, you were going to have to play dirty, like Jason Carver.

***

 ROBIN: We met Argyle in Chicago. Once we graduated high school Steve and I started working as subs for small bands in the Midwestern circuit. Yes, it was as grim as it sounds, but it paid the bills and helped us meet people. Argyle was the drummer of some Reggae band that needed a bass player for a few weeks when their bassist got arrested on possession charges. I subbed in and was immediately super impressed by his skills. People always underestimated Argyle, to this day, because of the whole vibe he gives off, you know? But he’s smart and adaptable. Anyway, when his bassist lost his case, the band broke up indefinitely and I tried my best to convince Argyle to join Steve and me. There were two of us, we’d never played an official gig, and we didn’t even have a name, but Argyle said yes. Next was Nancy. We held open auditions for a keyboardist once Argyle was onboard. After five passable auditions, Nancy Fucking Wheeler walks in in this long skirt and bows in her hair. She had a book of Debussy sheet music for God’s sake. I almost burst out laughing when I saw her because I thought she must have been lost but then, in true Nancy Wheeler fashion she blew us all away. Ugh, was that woman talented. And gorgeous. Steve’s jaw had to be crane-lifted off the floor, it was love at first sight.

STEVE: It was not. She’s exaggerating.

1980

Ironically, you met Murray Bauman at one of your parents’ parties.

You knew he was a music producer for Starcourt Records because he kept loudly boasting to his date about it. The same Starcourt Records that the Letterman’s were signed on to.

You waited until he was two gin martinis in and standing alone admiring your father’s latest art purchase before you approached.

“Hello,” you said, brandishing a dazzling smile, your whole body angled and ready to perform this familiar dance.

“Aren’t you the producer for the Letterman’s?”

He shot you a grin that borders on swarmy and said, “why yes, I am and you look like you’re out past your bedtime.”

You didn’t react to his statement and instead marched onwards, “I loved their latest song, ‘All At Once’ right? It’s so romantic.”

“Between you and me, I’m not sure how Carver popped that one out, he’s a bit of a meathead if you catch my drift.”

He didn’t wait to see your reaction before laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah, actually, I’m not surprised to hear that considering I dated him,” your eyes flashed in a way that you hoped came off as dangerous, “and that I wrote that song.”

He regarded you for a moment before breaking out in a laugh. When he saw your expression remained unchanged, he stepped back in assessment.

“Oh shit, you’re being serious.”

You only nodded grimly.

“Okay, well that’s a new one. Usually, girls come up claiming that one of those idiots impregnated them, not this.”

He regarded you again, searching for a trace of a lie. He sighed, “So let’s say that you did write the song, which, knowing what I know about those Neanderthals, I am willing to entertain the possibility of this being at least partially true, then what does that mean? You’re going to blackmail Starcourt? Do you want money?”

You gestured vaguely behind you, sure that he must have known who your parents were. “I don’t need money.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I write music. Obviously. I want to write for your label.”

A grin broke out across his face, “Oh, boy.” He started to laugh: a deep chuckle that floated up from his belly.

“You and every other Joe Schmoe in Hollywood, sweetie.”

“But not every other Joe Schmoe wrote a song for one of your most popular bands.”

Murray regarded you again, he gave you a look you’re all too familiar with. One that says he did not expect such a fight in such an unassuming package.

“Here’s the deal,” you start, taking his brief lapse to pounce, “all I want is for you to take my demo tape and listen to it, like actually listen to it. Do that and we never have to mention this again.”

“And if I say no to your little proposition?”

You smile at his question before offering a small piece of paper, “Then here’s the business card to my lawyer he’ll be reaching out.”

This, puzzlingly, makes the man burst out laughing once again.

“Let me get this straight, you just want me to listen to your tape? That’s the grand blackmailing scheme? No record deal, no music video?”

You shake your head in response, “No, I think my music speaks for itself. I just need to get it in front of the right person.”

Murray’s still chuckling to himself as he extends his hand out signaling for you to drop the tape you are now holding in his hands.

“Fine, but you are one shitty blackmailer.”

You were signed to Startcourt Records a month later.

***

STEVE: Once Nancy joined, we were a band, and so we needed a name. I suggested the Steve Harrington experience but the girls shot me down like, right away. We ended up fighting about names for like an hour. It was actually Argyle who ended up coming up with our name. The Downsides, he had said, since we were all so negative about everything. He had said this after Robin had said I was 'all hair and no brain'. Not the best of origin stories, I guess. But we liked it and that’s how we became The Downsides.

NEXT CHAPTER 🎹

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #Daisy Jones & the Six AU

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

Queer Metalhead History

It’s time for a brief lesson about the history of queerness and metal music. That’s right, the metal and queer communities are old friends and allies. 

So, the leather community has been around since the late 1920′s/early 1930′s, but leather bars specifically became more popular in the late 1950′s. And you know who was hanging out at leather bars? Gay bikers and veterans, who needed safe places to gather during McCarthyism and the Lavender Scare. In fact, the Satyr Motorcycle Club, the oldest gay biker club in the United States, was recently inducted into the Leather Hall of Fame.

And who was spending time in those clubs and with those gangs? Rob Halford, lead singer and songwriter for the legendary heavy metal band (and my personal favorite band of all time) Judas Priest. His song “Raw Deal” (1977) includes the line: “The true free expression I demand is human rights” and references “Fire Island”, a popular gay hangout in New York. 

He stated in a 2019 interview: “I urge people, LGBTQ, any of us that are still trying to find that moment to break down the door … step forward and say, 'This is who I am and I’m proud of who I am. I'm not going to be intimidated. I'm not going to live in fear. I'm not going to put everybody else before me.”

In 2020 he was interviewed by Rolling Stone and said: “Everything changes when you hit the stage. Just getting out there and holding a mic, there’s something very tangible that shifts in me and suddenly it’s the Metal God. It’s a bit like when Superman went into the phone booth and came out. Whereas he came out in a cape and tights, I come out in leather chaps.”

The title “Metal God” comes from Priest’s sixth studio album, British Steel, which was released in 1980. The album cover depicts a man’s hand holding a razor blade and wearing a spiked leather cuff on his wrist; Halford’s experiences in the leather community forever affected the metal community, who picked up on this trend quickly and spread it through the culture. 

He posted selfies with his favorite cat t-shirts through the entirety of the COVID-19 lockdown, for fuck’s sake, and swaps book recommendations with his life partner, Thomas. 

And yet the metal community remains largely homophobic, with Motley Crue’s Nikki Sixx using the f-slur repeatedly, the infamous “AIDS Kills F***s” t-shirt worn by Skid Row’s guitarist Sebastian Bach, and plenty of other examples should you care to learn more. 

This Pride Month, as a metalhead raised by an 80′s metalhead who took my queer ass to see Judas Priest a few years back (love you Dad), let’s say thank you to this badass “stately homosexual”. Let’s remember who’s predominantly responsible (not entirely, but he helped A LOT) for the leather aesthetic in metal. For some of the queerest lyrics of all time (Grinder, anyone? Perhaps Hell Bent for Leather?). For being a general badass Metal God.

Rock on, Rob Halford.

#rob halford #judas priest #metal music #pride #pride month #lgbtqa #queer #queer history #queer music #queer music history #metalhead #queer metal #queer metalhead #stranger things #y'all this fandom hurts me sometimes with their music choices for billy #ngl #music history #leather #we respect and support the leather community here #queer community #hell bent for leather #british steel

[maypearlss]

𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐝𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

my #1 fear is that duke becomes the babygirl of tni!, because trust me guys, save it for logan and tommy. anyways, i both love and hate duke? he's super fun to write... and he's the worst. but he has his moments... but he sucks. the duality of blond men. i'm very curious to see what you guys will think of him! let's go!

despite duke's vicious presence on stage, his name has been synonymous with charisma from the moment he first walked in front of a crowd and dedicated overconsumption's hit song "red hot lovergirl" to his girlfriend, nona. fierce, charismatic, confident: that's duke strickland. or, at least, duke strickland as the world knows him. those around him know a much different story.

duke's devil-may-care attitude is, by and large, a mask meant to cover his insecurity. nobody really knows the cause of it—by all accounts, duke's wealthy, rock 'n' roll life is as easy of a ride as it possibly can be—but nevertheless, it's obvious to anyone who considers themselves close to him. it's no big deal; most people are insecure in some way. and, as everyone knows, duke is a nice guy. harmless.

isn't he?

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋆｡°✩

full name: duke alexander strickland

age: 22 (1985)–tbd

birthday: february 18th

pronouns: he/him

sexuality: heterosexual

ethnicity: white american

occupation: lead singer and guitarist for overconsumption

love interest(s): none

likes: nona, performing, attention, cheeseburgers with fries (with mustard, no ketchup), gaslighting may

dislikes: may, his siblings, open-toe shoes, being ignored, cats

height: 6'1

build: muscular, broad-shouldered

hair: long, wild, blond

skin: light, suntanned, with soft freckles

eyes: bright turquoise

noticeable features: a faint scar running vertically down his right cheek

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋆｡°✩

⋆ you could be mine - guns n' roses

⋆ i wanna be your man - l.a. guns

⋆ love gun - kiss

⋆ too fast for love - mötley crüe

⋆ kickstart my heart - mötley crüe

⋆ all in the name of - mötley crüe

⋆ detroit rock city - kiss

⋆ live wire - mötley crüe

⋆ it's so easy - guns n' roses

⋆ any way you slice it - kiss

⋆ wild side - mötley crüe

⋆ locomotive (complicity) - guns n' roses

⋆ bitch is back - l.a. guns

⋆ king of the mountain - kiss

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 ⋆｡°✩

he's one of the middle children out of six and he routinely pretends that all five of his siblings do not exist, especially his oldest sister, barbi

he had red hair in my initial design for him before I decided on may having red hair instead

he hates being cold but he's cold 90% of every day

his nickname in my brain has been "duke dickhead" for as long as he's been a character

he was originally way more of a one-dimensional mustache-twirling "look at me, i'm so bad, let me evil laugh now" antagonist, but i think he's much more fun and interesting to write the way he is now

his arc is probably the one I'm the most excited to write

yeah, that's duke! he's such a problem :D my favorite thing about this post is that now that it's done, i can work on the posts for tommy my love <3 also, feel free to yell at me in the comments to actually work on plotting this, because my brain hasn't been braining recently and i need it LMAO

#oc : duke strickland #wip : the nona incident! #my wips #my ocs #writeblr #creative writing #oc intro #oc introduction #meet the oc #meet my ocs #wipsbymor