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[sidthorne]

[sidthorne]

Paperwork was the worst part of agreeing to start a record label with his fellow musician friends. A necessary evil is what they all tended to call it, something they had to do in order to reap and spread the benefits of having a label that catered to their needs somewhere other than Los Angeles or New York City. He almost forgot he had a meeting with Azra that day until she greeted him. "Oh, hey!" Sid was actually really happy to see her because it meant he got to procrastinate even further with the added benefit of it being for a good reason.

He stood up to greet the tv host properly, taking the one earbud he had in to listen to music while he worked. "Uh, to be honest I'm not sure if we did or not," he let out a quick laugh and looked around. "That's not my department. I decorate my office and usually my wife or my sister helps me out with that." Mostly helping him make sure everything was straight and flowed together well. "Let's go in the meeting room over there," he pointed and motioned for her to sit on one of the black comfy leather chairs. "Do you want anything to drink? I think we have water, tea, coffee, and some random assortment of sports and energy drinks."

Closed: @sidthorne

Location: Bad Omen Music

Azra knew that she was pretty lucky when it came to her line of work. She had the opportunity to showcase current, upcoming, and hidden talents of all genre types on her show. Getting to share that with audience members five days a week was no easy feat, but it was a lot of fun and combined her passions and interest in the best of ways. Behind the scenes, many hours were dedicated to discovering who exactly they were bringing on the show, hence why she was back at Bad Omen Music's headquarters to discuss her potential line up for the fall months.

"Hey Sid!" she said waving as she approached one of the owners. "It looks different in here. Did you guys redecorate?"

[sidthorne]

"I'm not a fucking plant. I don't need sun, plus ultra violet rays cause cancer. That's why there's supplements, bud." Which Sid needed to get better about taking but that was not the point. There was no way he was about to admit there was any benefit to walking around under a big ball of fire. Sid coughed when he patted him on the back which made him laugh because hell if it wasn't a sign he should cut back on smoking. "Those days are usually the times they say to get to meetings or give someone a call, like a sponsor or a sober friend." He quirked an eyebrow up at him and offered a smile, if there was anything the singer knew it was the difficulty of reaching out. That was what that first step was all about though, wasn't it. "These things always get to me," he motioned around the fair. "Never did like being around a bunch of people though."

Anyone who saw Sid and Colton together probably thought them an interesting pair. Where Colton was all sunshine and rainbows, Sid was storm clouds and heavy metal music. They didn't really make sense as friends but something about a shared experience of addiction really brought people together. If it hadn't been for Sid's mentoring, Colton really didn't know where he'd be right about now. "Now how you gonna say you don't love the sunshine? It's good for you! Get that vitamin d, my guy." He slapped Sid on the back and laughed as he shook his head and looked back out at the street fair and people mulling around. "I'm alright. Had a tough few days honestly last week but I kept myself busy and it's been okay since then." There were few people that Colton would talk so candidly about his struggles with but Sid was one of them. He understood.

[sidthorne]

[sidthorne]

"No judgement here," he exhaled a quick laugh from his nose. "I'm a high school drop out and have to look up lyrics all the time. Especially if people as about the old stuff." There were a few songs he would always be able to recite off the top of his head, just by how many times he sang them. "That's why we practice right?" Otherwise the band would forget the music, or they wouldn't be in sync and he'd forget the audio queues for parts of the song. It would all be a disaster. Besides, and he was sure the other man could relate, after you've written enough songs things could get jumbled. Especially when asked to remember a random line on the spot. Even more so when it came to Brooks, he had to assume, who had extremely lyric intensive songs.

His eyebrows twitched upwards when the other man said his name. Not that he was unaware that his name was known, it just gave him a quick surprise that the other man knew it. "That's me," he confirmed and shook the hand offered to him. "I know it a little too well. That part never gets easier either. I wish I could say it did." Maybe it did for some people, but in his experience with musicians - whether writing songs or music - it was always scary to release something you cared about. "Yeah? That would be fucking cool, man. I've really wanted to work with some different styles and talents. Your storytelling in your lyrics is top notch." He commended, hoping he didn't sound dumb by saying it. On stage and in the studio his confidence was through the roof but social interactions were touch and go. "Dial Drunk really hit home for me, in more ways than one."

"Oh so cool. But you gunna laugh at me if I tell you I also had to pull the lyrics up on google to make sure I wasn't spelling anything wrong?" In his defense, the girl was going straight to the booth at the fair to get it done. He wasn't going to make her have a tattoo that was both unreadable and spelled wrong. Brooks was so bad with names it was honestly kind of embarrassing. So one of the things his manager sat him down and made him down when he moved to Nashville was go over the names of some of the bigger players in the industry. The man holding the slushy beside him was one of those faces, but it took a few seconds for him to put the face to the name.

But the compliment raised some warmth in his cheeks. He's proud of his music and what he's done, but hearing others - especially others that were in the same line of work - say they enjoyed his music made Brooks feel like he was doing something right. "You're...Sid right? Crimson Crypt? Hey man," The shorter man held a hand out for a shake. "That means a lot. Always hard to put something out in the world that means so much to you, y'know? But honestly, I'd love to. Sounds like fun."

[sidthorne]

Sid let out a quick chuckle at her response. "I got two modes, one word responses and rambling on for too long." That was normally reserved for interviews and those close to him, however. It was said most of the band couldn't get a word in around him which he was trying to get better about but they never seemed to care much. "I picked out the name of my band when I was fifteen, before I even had a band." Now that he thought about it, it was kind of funny it stuck as long as it had. He paused to listen to the lead singer's intro and welcome to the small crowd that gathered. "Asteroid Cows," he answered, looking over to his new companion again. "Not an awful name for an alternative punk band, I guess." Sid shrugged because honestly what did he know? As long as the fans like it, names didn't seem to matter a ton. "What would you name yours?"

“Oh don’t even worry about that,” Emilia said quickly. “I’ve been told I’m extremely good at one way conversations.” Laughing a little bit, she leaned against the barrier they were standing by. Silently she was patting herself on the back for finding someone who apparently had a sense of humor to bother about this. Emmy had the horrifying thought that he’d tell her to fuck off and she’d have to face another twenty minutes of small talk with a man who was as interesting as a wet paper bag that her friends wanted her to date. Turning back to the stage as her new companion spoke, she snorted. “Yeah I have…honestly it’s how I’d be if I was starting a band…I couldn’t pick just one name. What one are they going with today?”

[sidthorne]

"Nope, pretty certain I read a study about it. Sugar helps cure addiction." Of course now Sid was talking right out of his ass. He did plenty of reading but it wasn't about addiction or anything related to studies. Then again, he could have but he doesn't remember. "Junk food is better than regular shit anyways. Life's too short to waste on spinach." Or any other vegetable for that matter. Even though he's been forced to consume them a lot more in the past year. Apparently all the partying, fighting, and crazy stage antics caught up with him. He looked over when Chloe answered and nodded knowingly. "Yeah, it's a lot. Social events are my, what's that word," his brow furrowed and he ticked his fingers trying to remember what his therapist called it. "Trigger. I fucking hate that phrase but it's true." With both his and Juliet's positions it was kind of hard to avoid, however. "I usually hang around the music or the food." He nodded to her further concerns and sighed, motioning off to the side for her to follow him. Once away from people he handed over the rest of the donuts to her and lit up a smoke. "See," he started as he took a drag and exhaled smoke away from her. "What worked for me was coming up with an action plan. I don't go out after our set, I go say hi to any fans lingering outside and head straight to the tour bus." It had him catching shit from other bands they toured with but he didn't care about that anymore. "Then I eat, call Juliet if she's not with me or turn on some show or something till I fall asleep. The temptation is still there but not as much, you know?"

A skeptical feature graces her features as Sid speaks, before a small laugh follows as she accepts the offered treat. Chloe trusted the man, given the mentor role he’d taken on after they learned they had far more similarities than initially realized — Despite the obvious differences in outward appearance. “I’m not sure powdered donuts are the best replacement,” Chloe points out, pausing to eat the donut in question. “But I’ll let it slide this time, because these are fantastic.” The light tone doesn’t last as long as she’d hoped, when he asks about the elephant in the room. She appreciated having someone care about her well being, even if it felt strange to discuss openly. “It’s intense,” she nods, before adding a shrug. “Nothing unmanageable, you know? I just avoid bar carts and play lame carnival games instead.” Surprisingly, the street fair wasn’t too tempting — Though she had a feeling once the sun went down and kids left, it may be a different story. “I’m more worried about when I start touring again.”

[sidthorne]

"And I think you're just being mean to yourself." He pointed out with a knowing look. His arms moved around her in return and held her tight to him. She was safe, he was safe, not a single thing could even try to get between them. Decorated hands and fingers moved slowly down her spine and up her arm. He rested his chin on top of her head, his eyes closing just a moment to relish in the warmth moving through his body that felt so much colder without her near it. "What? Me?" Sid pulled back to look at her with faux shock and offense. "Can't I just compliment my gorgeous dark goddess of a wife without there being some underlying purpose?" In her defense there was plenty of reason to worry he may have said or done something he wasn't supposed to. He had a long history of inciting fights, snapping at people, and generally being aggressive when he could have chosen to defuse a situation. "I've been off to the side, watching bands like a good boy. Promise. Only yelled at one person." Who deserved it because they were drunk and running into everyone. He grinned down at her moving in to steal another kiss then dot a few more across her jawline.

"How much longer do we have to stay in this hellscape?" Sid asked softly against her ear. From what he could remember, it was awhile but he was crossing his fingers she'd changed her mind. There were a lot of bands playing - some that he should probably be around to see as wall - which meant she could need to be there till the end. If Juliet needed to stay he would be there to support her just as she supported him at every show he played or had to attend.

if doubting yourself was an olympic sport, juliet would have a gold medal by now. she was always quick to point out the flaws in her photos, finding even the smallest of things that would prompt her not to use them. normally she'd get a band's approval on her work before doing anything with it, but when it came to bands at festivals, all bets were off. juliet should've learned her lesson by now when it came to asking for sid's opinion, but anyone with eyes would be able to tell that she liked the validation her husband gave her.

the kiss to her lips caught her off guard, a whimper-like noise leaving the back of her throat as it ended too soon, though she made no move to catch him in another kiss. instead, juliet pressed close to sid's side, watching him flick through her photos one by one as her eyebrows knit together in a scowl. "i think you're just being nice to me," she grumbled, hands carefully draping her camera around her torso so she could use her arms to wrap tightly around sid. before they had met she wasn't big on public displays of affection, all of her previous partners left disappointed when she paid more attention to her camera than she did to them. but sid would always be the exception; he was her soulmate, her top priority, and the person that she would always take the time to be with. "and you're trying to butter me up for some reason? what did you do? did you accidentally make someone cry?" there was a teasing smile on her features now, her arms moving from around his middle to drape around his neck, forcing her to stand on her toes so he wouldn't have to bend over too far, lips gently brushing against his. "it's working, though. it always works."

[sidthorne]

"What if someone did spit in my food, Colt, what then?" He answered in a flat tone. No one did, yet. That he knew of at least. Though he wouldn't put it past someone to do. "The only thing I like in that series is live music and even then it may be questionable." He offered the other man his fist to bump quick in greeting. Colton wasn't the worst person to have around, that optimistic attitude could be draining but he could entertain it for awhile. "How are you doin', man?" Sid did like to check in every so once and awhile. He couldn't remember when he saw Colt last but he knew he had been doing good last time they talked. "Besides being in love with the evil day star."

starter for: @sidthorne location: street fair

"You know, you don't always have to walk around lookin' like someone spit in your food, Sid." Colton approached him with a shrug and a half smirk. It was a gamble what sort of mood his friend would be in. Honestly, Colton wasn't sure that they even were friends because Sid was a little more prickly than most people Colt knew. He had been his sober sponsor for a couple of years now and had seen Colton at his absolute worst a time or two when he'd relapsed and had nothing and nowhere to go but to Sid. "How can you even be grumpy when there's live music, sunshine, and a chili cook off happenin' out here?"

[sidthorne]

Seemed like him and the cowboy had something in common when it came to lighters. Sid snorted a laugh and nodded. "Heard that," thankfully the man did have a lighter and his nic fit was coming to an end. He lit his cigarette and handed the lighter back over. "Cowboys have tattoos. But, I'll take it. I've been called much worse." Sid exhaled the smoke and hummed, satisfied in that moment. "Thanks, by the way. I'm Sid." He gave him a nod, because at the moment he was his favorite person in the world.

Wes was in his element, having a grand ole time smelling all the good food, trying some new beer, and being with Diego. However, he figured that if he was going to smoke, he should probably stand off a little to the side. "I should, could've lost it by now though," He had a habit of misplacing things even in the span of a few minutes. It was in his pocket, though. "If I'm cowboy, does that mean you're tattoo boy?" He chuckled, as he offered him the lighter.

[sidthorne]

Anyone that knew Sid well enough (or hung out with him longer than an hour) knew he had a sweet tooth. He couldn't even blame it on any of his old vices, either. It had been that way ever since he could remember. When he saw the rainbow slushie things coming from the Tin Roof area, he had to go get one. Lucky for him they had it in a non-alcoholic version as well. He stuck around to watch the drag show, always a fan of the work that went into them and sometimes discovered a tip or two from them. It was rare, but it happened. Either way, he was entertained. When Brooks approached him he already recognized who he was. Though he didn't look like the type of guy who normally listened to indie rock, he most certainly did. He listened to almost everything.

"Yeah, but it's really cool when they get your lyrics tattooed on them or the symbol of your band. It always makes this cold, dead heart beat a couple times." He offered up a quick laugh and cleared his throat. Honestly, how badass could he look in all black drinking a rainbow slushie out of a straw. He may as well be an overgrown toddler. "Hey, your last album was really fresh, I dug it. We should do something together sometime." Sid was almost positive it would be denied but it's not often he actually gets to collaborate with people.

— who: anyone — when: Street Fair — where: Outside The Tin Roof

Walking through the fair, Brooks felt a little bit like he was back in Massachusetts. Crowds of people enjoying live music, hanging out on sidewalks surrounded by food stalls and small businesses. The only thing reminding him that he was not in fact back home was the heat. He tried walking out of his apartment in his lucky sweatshirt, desperate for every ounce of luck he could get for his first performance in the city he now called home later on, and immediately went back inside to swap it out for something else as soon as he felt the humidity. So now, he was walking through the streets of Nashville in his hand me down Hyannis Fire Department tshirt, which was just as lucky, having a grand old time with a beer in his hand, when someone spotted him.

Brooks Feldman loved meeting his fans, taking pictures and listening to how they connected to his music, but as this particular group walked away, he couldn't help but chuckle. Grabbing his beer off the spot on the ground he placed it before, he shoved dark curls out of his eyes as he looked at the person next to him. "It's always a little weird to me when peopel say they want to get my handwriting tattooed on them, y'know?" he said, taking a swig from the can in his hand. "Like I got shitty handwriting...that's going to be permanent."

[sidthorne]

stats • pinterest • connections

name: Sid Thorne age & birth date: 30 years | October 30th, 1992 ☼ scorpio ☾ capricorn ↗ libra height: 6’4” occupation: musician, songwriter, co-owner of bad omen music, lead singer of crimson crypt likes: the color black, music in all aspects, jewelry made from old guitar strings, his wife, goth punk aesthetics, batman, horror movies, breaking gender barriers, tattoos, guitar riffs dislikes: complete silence, most people, happy families, exercise, restriction, black coffee, the system, assholes, eating breakfast, soprano opera, drum machines, high standards, money good qualities: creative, ambitious, direct, protective, meticulous bad qualities: cynical, withdrawn, anxious, obsessive, temperamental orientation & status: demisexual, married to juliet thorne place of birth: detroit, michigan time in nashville: 12 years

diving deeper -

tw: addiction, terminal illness, death, overdose

born and raised in detroit, michigan to a single mother and an absentee father. they lived in a rough neighborhood. his father only occasionally was in sid's life, he had another family with three children who were his main focus. his mother more than made up for it though

from a very young age he was performing and as he aged it was the only thing he ever wanted to do so he practiced at it every chance he got whether that was singing, playing instruments, putting on shows, writing lyrics, etc.

he never fit in much, he painted his nails black, wore eyeliner, clothes never fit right because they were thrifted or hand me downs, he struggled to follow lessons, and he was always getting into some kind of trouble. he stayed isolated from the crowd. between that and his father, it led to added anger and resentment that he still carries a lot of to this day

his mom passed away from a terminal illness when he was sixteen, it was devastating for him. he took off to memphis to live with his cousin then later moved to nashville to pursue his music career

formed the Crimson Crypt and immediately started making music, playing gigs, and grinding their way through the underground - eventually they started collecting a following and got signed though they remained having mixed reviews

with little to no social skills and thrust into an environment with no experience was rough for sid. he was on tour constantly, opening for bigger names, playing festivals, and small gigs throughout the country met with a mixture of love and hate

sid became a garbage disposal for substances to deal with the anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and the undealt with grief of losing his mother mixed with the anger he'd harbored from a young age. he developed an addiction which got worse over time.

he started fighting concert goers that would hate on the band, withdrawal only made him worse, getting into fights with people in the crowd or at bars that dared to show any kind of dislike for him or the band or even looking at him wrong

juliet came into his life somewhere between it going from bad to worse and between her and the band he realized his problem. when he tried to stop the managers and label encouraged his drug use to get through shows. eventually he ended up in the hospital after a public overdose.

they left the label, sid went to rehab, got married, and started a new label with other fed up rock bands.

since then things have gotten better, he's still a work in progress with a couple relapses but he has 3 years of consecutive sobriety under his belt and he's trying to work on his other issues but it's been slow

the band is doing much better, having a few very successful albums - he lives in a penthouse downtown with his two black cats who are like children named onyx and poe and his wife juliet.

he smokes like a chimney, generally looks angry or apathetic, still barks at people when he gets overstimulated but doesn't fight as much. he still has the goth/punk aesthetic and is hard to miss between how he dresses and his height.

[sidthorne]

juliet & sid thorne

i was smoking and drinking and trying to forget all the stress of the mess and the credit card debt and i'm still surprised you never left me we were young and in love but forgot to show up i was there in my head, just a fool left drunk and i'm still surprised you never left me slow down, i'm going too fast now and i can't keep up with time, not letting go slow down, so i can touch you 'cause i can't keep up with us, not letting go you feel like heaven with my eyes closed

a song he wrote for juliet listen here

[sidthorne]

[sidthorne]

Sid frowned at first, then it melted into concern when she explained further. He looked for her friends and debated the situation. Scariest looking guy here. Sid laughed. "Probably the least talkative, too." He could play the role, though. Easily putting on the mask of performer to oblige for as long as he could manage because he understood how shitty it could be to be forced into meeting and talking to people when you just want to have a good time. "Don't worry about it. I'm not offended," he paused. "Yet." The intimidation factor was something he liked about himself, he also liked that most people avoided talking to him. It let him enjoy being in public a lot more. "Alright, so this band that's about to get on stage. They have changed their name three times and I'm starting to think they're pulling one of those Mouserat things from Parks and Recreation. Have you seen that show?" This was his best attempt at riveting conversation. All he had in his arsenal was music, random television shows and films, and Batman. Not something that carried well from person to person.

She knew she should've just gone to the fair alone. But instead, Emilia found herself walking down the lanes of booths with her college friends who were insisting on finding her a date for the rest of the evening. Which would've been fine, had her friends had any sort of standards besides man with a pulse. After they started yelling to get the attention of the third man that was not Emilia's type, she melted into the crowd, grabbed a drink and tried to avoid her friends. But that plan wasn't a long term one, and she knew she'd have to get them to back off some how.

Her solution came in the form of a tall man covered in tattoos and all black. Perfect. Emilia approached, and gave him a sheepish smile when he acknowledged her. "Look, I need you to act like we're having an extremely riveting conversation," Great start, Em. Both hands holding her drink like a life line she sighed. "My friends are being very pushy for me to end my singleness tonight and while their hearts are in the right place I need them to stop and I know they won't bother talking to me if I'm talking to you because you're like...the scariest looking guy here." As soon as the words left her mouth, Emilia closed her eyes. "Wow. That was...not supposed to be so rude, I am so sorry...I'm great at this, can you tell?"

[sidthorne]

who: @chloecampbell

where: street fair near the food

"I'm trying to tell you that junk food is a solid alternative for any substance. Especially these little fucking donuts with sugar all over them," Sid popped one of the mini donuts into his mouth then tilted the container to her as an offering to take one. Eating healthy was never his strong suit. His mom gave up trying to get him to eat vegetables before he became a teenager. Presently he was trying to do some sort of balance but like every other issues of his, it was a slow process. "How are things going, anyways? Shit like this set you off?" Sid motioned to their surroundings. Those things always nagged at him, but more because of the anxiety of being in a crowd, being seen, or having to talk to strangers without warning.