#got the image from a Kerrang! article

[arsenicemeraldgemerald]

Seems like Vessel finally caught up to the flamingo who was setting fires in arcadia if the feathers are anything to go by.

[unholyverse]

waterparks // kerrang january 2018 #1705

(full article text under the cut)

LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST

The past couple of years have been such a whirlwind for Waterparks that the trio have barely had time to breathe. Beyond all the bluster and bravado, it's taken a private toll on Awsten Knight. On the eve of new album Entertainment, though, the frontman is ready to go again…

Words: Jennyfer J. Walker // Photos: Andrew Upovsky

A few years ago, Awsten Knight dropped out of college to focus on his band, Waterparks. To gain the funds to do so, he spent his time teaching guitar and babysitting. Today, the Texas-based trio—completed by guitarist Geoff Wigington and drummer Otto Wood—are one of the most in-demand young bands on the planet. The name Waterparks first became synonymous with more than just being a fun place to hang out in your swimming trunks in 2016, with the release of their debut album, Double Dare. And the three-piece have only gotten bigger since. After forming in 2011, they picked up Good Charlotte's Benji and Joel Madden as managers (and Benji as a producer), toured the world with All Time Low, sold out Camden's Underworld (4,846 miles from their hometown) in under an hour, and recorded second album Entertainment, which is out next week.

There have been personal moments that made Awsten realise he and his band have 'made it', too, like when he was awarded Tweeter Of The Year in the Kerrang! Readers' Poll ("That's literally just all the dumb shit I said on Twitter," he says, baffled as to why anyone would care about his caps-lock musings). Then there was the time a Japanese fan flew to a U.S. show, and turned up to meet Awsten looking exactly like Awsten…

"He was dressed just like me!" the singer says in more disbelief. "He dyed his hair blue and he had my necklace [the rainbow foot one]. He was straight-up me! And I was like, 'Oh my God, some guy in fucking Japan, who doesn't even know my language, likes my shit that much that he's dressed up like me… that's fucking awesome.'"

Ask Awsten to reflect on his band's success, to properly look back and take it all in, and he'll get uncomfortable.

"I don't really look back at stuff as much as I should…" he admits. "I feel like if I stop to think about any of that too hard, it would freak me out. So I think the best thing, at least for now, is to keep my head down and keep working as fast as I can and as hard as I can to keep it going."

And how do you feel when you're forced to reflect?

Before replying, he thinks for a second and exhales, making his lips vibrate.

"It kinda doesn't feel like it happened…When we got back from Japan I was just tired and laying there, and a week later I talked about it in an interview, and they were like, 'You just got back from Japan with All Time Low,' and I was like, 'Oh yeah! We did do that, huh?'" It doesn't feel…"—he thumbs through the pages of his brain dictionary, looking for the right words—"…it doesn't feel real."

The only time Awsten really nods to his achievements is within the blue walls of his childhood bedroom, where he's rested his head for the past 20 years, and is currently doing so while the band take their first proper break in two years. In between shelves crammed with DVDs, books ("because reading's tight") and his bed there's a nightstand. On the top sit a pack of Twizzlers and a pot of vitamins, and in the cubby hole below rests a stack of six or seven magazines, all of which have Awsten's face on the cover. He'll only take them out to properly look at when new ones arrive in the mail- there have been two this week - but he likes having them there, when he's in the room. "Being able to see those things is small," he says. "But it's enough to be like, 'Okay, cool.'"

[Image of the band walking around with the caption, "The gangs of New York aren't quite what they used to be."]

Awsten's aware that few bands take off like Waterparks have. It's a fact people remind him about often, including his friends and mentors Benji and Joel.

"They tell us, 'Your band is extremely special,' and I'll be like, 'Thank you so much!' I'm thankful to hear it…'"

The Maddens' elder brother Josh, meanwhile, has taught the frontman that it's important to take time for yourself in order to survive in any successful band. "Josh told me, There's Waterparks Awsten and there's Awsten Awsten. They're both the same guy, but you need to make sure both of them have the same love and care. It's tough to do…"

He lets out a brief laugh at what he's about to say. It's something he often does.

"Girls have accused me of being a workaholic before. It's still hard for me to answer when people ask, 'What do you do when you're not doing music?' I don't have that much to say…Which isn't a good sign of progress on that front, because it's what I'm doing all the time. If it's not for Waterparks, I'm working on music for somebody." He has, though, taken steps to care for poor neglected Awsten Awsten while he's been off tour. He's learned the importance of getting the recommended eight hours sleep and not staying up all night working on band stuff. He's started going to therapy. And he's training at a small boxing gym in downtown Houston.

"It's definitely a dumb-guy chemical thing, but Otto and I will go through phases where we're like, 'I just wanna fucking fight someone!' Pretty much the entire last tour I was in that mode. I thought, 'I better actually prepare and be good at this shit if it does happen!'" Now, one of the goals on his bucket list for 2018 is to win a boxing match.

Such drive means the frontman's never struggled to keep his eyes on the prize when it comes to Waterparks. As soon as our morning chat ends, Awsten says he'll start working on more music.

His self-assuredness and stronger-than-graphene vision for the band mean he's never had to fight to stay true to himself, either. He's more likely to walk into the record label and tell them what's what.

"Dude, honestly, I'm so fucking good at marketing!" he says, not-at-all modestly. "I've got a vision for us, and I know what we are. I'm aware what works and what doesn't. I'm a control freak, which I guess is a thing I should work on, but it's definitely kept things very true to who we are."

New album Entertainment is saturated with that same confidence, and the frontman says he feels no pressure whatsoever putting it out.

"When it was getting made, nobody knew [since it was done in secret], so they couldn't get hyped or anything. Now, if anybody wants to have expectations, it's already done. There's nothing I can do."

Doesn't a little part of you worry about whether people will like it?

"Not really," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "because I know it's good. Not to be cocky about it…I just think it's a very good album. There were songs I thought would make the record that didn't, which means everything on there is the best of the best."

The most confident man in rock does have one Kryptonite, though: his feelings. That became apparent three weeks before the release of Entertainment, when Awsten tweeted a picture of two pages from a spiral-bound notebook. On those pages was a handwritten letter, in his trademark caps, explaining that he'd gone off Waterparks' second record. The words were fairly cryptic, stating, "the last couple months have [been] weird, difficult, and everything else that sits in the realm of 'bad'. I lost a lot mentally and physically. Certain things happened and to be overly honest with you, Entertainment was ruined for me. I stopped listening to it, and felt weird to hype it in interviews. However, the worst part was the pure dread I felt thinking, 'Fuck. I still have to tour on this and sing these words every night.'"

Yet fans knew the note related to Awsten's break-up with his TV actress girlfriend, Ciara Hanna, the subject of much of the album's lyrics.

"I was glorifying people and things that I really don't fucking like and that really sucked," he says.

How did you feel about the future when those songs were ruined for you?

"Very fucking bleak!" he says. "I was like, 'Fuck, I'm ready to make another album, let's do that instead!'"

Would you have scrapped Entertainment if that was an option?

"There was a time that I would have said yes. But it's a piece of fucking art, and it would be a shame to let certain people or things ruin that."

In order to feel excited about the album again, Awsten had to change the meanings of the songs in his mind.

"My love songs are not about anyone now," he says. "They're just about love. And the dark places I was put in because of certain people or events? Those are stories. Every album is going to be a snapshot of where I was at that time."

Which explains why he thanks Ciara "for filling me with too many feelings" in the CD's thank you notes.

Quiz Awsten about which songs on the album are the most personal to him, and he'll say "the ones that make me go, 'Agh fuck!'" are Lucky People, Rare, TANTRUM, Crybaby and We Need To Talk.

"I try to keep my shit together around other people," he says when asked if there were any breakdowns in the vocal booth, "but the day Crybaby was made, that was one of the worst days of my life…" What was happening that day?

"I don't wanna talk about that, if that's okay," Awsten says meekly. "I feel like I give a lot to people, and some of the stuff that is written about on this album, I haven't told anybody about, 'cause it's just very… low, dark, personal shit. There are certain things that people don't need to know."

One song he is comfortable delving deeper into is diss track TANTRUM. An album highlight, it sees Awsten rant his frustrations away.

"TANTRUM's blunt as fuck!" he offers. "A lot of the stuff's metaphorical, but that one's like, This married guy tried to fuck my girlfriend and I'm gonna kill him when I see him!' I was like, 'I'll put his name in it, fuck it! I don't care."

We point out that when the guy in the song hears it, Awsten might just get that boxing match he's after…

"I just might, but I'm prepared," he says seriously.

As we wrap up our interview, Awsten's pouring his second coffee of the day, ready to resume being a workaholic. We ask how he's feeling after what's been a frankly terrible couple of months, and at the start of what's set to be the year of his career.

"I mean…" he pauses. "If someone has empathy and is able to feel certain things, like a functioning emotional brain- or in my case, maybe it's more emotional than it should be, I don't know yet—everyone is a work in progress."

He lets out a particularly-Texan "GOD DAMN!" and laughs at how corny he sounds.

"But everybody is literally just doing their best. Everyone is working on it. I'm working on it…"

ENTERTAINMENT IS AVAILABLE VIA EASY LIFE RECORDS ON JANUARY 26. WATERPARKS TOUR THE UK IN MARCH — SEE THE GIG GUIDE

IT'S A FAMILY AFFAIR

THE MADDENS AREN'T JUST MANAGERS FOR WATERPARKS. AS AWSTEN REVEALS, THE TWINS ARE MORE LIKE FAMILY

"The Madden Brothers are the fuckin' best! They've taught me a lot. I knew about the idea of having role models and shit, had them and I've definitely h before, but actually seeing them at work, and the way they accomplish things and get shit done [is very cool].

"I wouldn't be who I am right now without them. What's cool is, I'd never in a billion years be like, "You guys are like me…'but we often have conversations about what we want to to accomplish. Last night I talked to Benji, and he said, 'Dude, everything that Joel and I did, see in you.' And I was just like, 'Fuuuuuuck!

"They're more like friends than mentors to me now. Half the shit we talk about is not even band related. We talk about life, how to be different and things I want to be involved in…I want to accomplish a lot. Some of it is musical and some isn't, but I want them to be my team for all of it."

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Life Is Proud: Life Of Agony’s Mina Caputo: “I don’t like being called transgender or transsexual… I’m a beautiful human being”

Pioneering Life Of Agony singer Mina Caputo opens up about letting go of the past, spirituality, and the Pride movement during the third instalment of Kerrang!’s Life Is Proud campaign.

“You’re setting off landmines inside of me!” says Mina Caputo. We’re 35 minutes into a filmed interview which we are conducting as part of Kerrang!’s Life Is Proud campaign in celebration of Pride Month.

Our conversation thus far has embraced everything from the work of psychologist Carl Jung and his study of the dark side of the mind through to the disinformation of modern media, and on to the liberating impact of artists such as Robert Plant and Freddie Mercury.

The ​“landmines”, though, consist of a few questions about Mina’s remarkable career and her own journey to find herself. They do, indeed, trigger explosions – delivered with her customary frankness and forays into deeply emotional territory.

Mina’s story starts in Brooklyn where she was born in December 1973. At the age of one, she lost her mother to an overdose. Her father was also an addict – ​“I grew up pulling dope needles out of my dad’s arm,” she told Kerrang! last year – and when he OD’d she had to identify his body. Both moments, she says, armed her to face the real world, providing her with ​“spiritual juice” as she also began to seek solace in music.

Raised by her Italian-American grandparents in a brutally traditional atmosphere, Mina experienced a sense of gender dysphoria from a young age – something she carried with her when she formed alternative metal band, Life Of Agony, in her teens. Her sense of alienation increased as the band’s popularity grew and she continued to feel at odds with the bristling machismo, muscle-flexing and sheer violence within the East Coast scene.

“Life Of Agony were a very different band from the jump,” she says. ​“But that time taught me to protect my neck. It taught me how to be afraid of my own unique authenticity. The first five or 10 years of my career, we were abused. There were lots of comments, like I’m a gay junkie, because I looked differently and I sang differently. We were left out of scenes and we were left off bills. But I knew why: because were bad-ass and we rose to the top really, really fast. People didn’t like that. Other bands didn’t like that.”

For Mina, her quest to find herself had become a key issue which she had to address. In a conservative scene, her experimentation with her image and sense of sexual exploration came at a price.

“I started painting my fingernails and toenails with Jonathan [Davis] on a tour with Ozzy Osbourne and Korn [in 1996], and that was seen as rebellious!” she smiles. ​“And I started going onstage wearing a big women’s fur coat and getting so much shit for just being different – and for being someone unlike the scene had ever really seen. I was a trendsetter, a physical trendsetter. And being in that scene, it was horrifying.”

Things came to a head following the release of Soul Searching Sun, Life Of Agony’s third album, in 1997, when Mina finally decided her only option was to leave the band. Against all odds, LOA would reform in 2003 and continue to release a string of acclaimed albums, their story documented in the no-holds barred documentary The Sound Of Scars.

“I felt afraid, I felt like dying,” reflects Mina on the struggles she endured as she quit the band. ​“I felt like my cellular structure was continuously dying and I wasn’t alive or living, I wasn’t sharing my true self. I was definitely afraid. It took me to quit the band because I wasn’t being true to myself. I had to get away from my band, the label, everyone I worked with.”

A hugely varied solo career spanning over 10 albums and endless collaborations followed, but Mina still feels that history weighs heavily on her.

“No-one wants to let go of my past story. Every lame rock journalist starts of the article in the same way because there’s no more creative writing anymore. Everyone’s cutting and pasting. ​‘Mina Caputo – once Keith Caputo’,” she snorts.

“Everyone has to keep reintroducing the fact that I’m a freak, born anatomically a boy. No shit! I’m a different creature. I’m not trying to be a boy, or trying to fit into your dickhead masculine world! Nor am I trying to fit into the genetic female world. I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck about fitting into your marginalised soulless, fear-based spiritually bankrupt world. I’ve gone my own world, my own internal world. I’ve got my music. I’ve got small selection of friends. I’ve got my money. I’ve got my divine protection. I’ve got my studies. I’m not a stupid motherfucker! I study quantum physics! I study Hopi American prophecies! I study philosophy. I’m well-equipped for this fucking world!”

Mina’s bravery in the face of adversity remains inspirational. Experiencing the distrust of ​‘otherness’ during her childhood, she has battled against prejudice most of her adult life. And, yet, she admits that her decision to come out as transgender in 2011 was far from easy.

“It was very, very scary,” she reflects. ​“I didn’t tell a lot of people until my body started to change and I couldn’t hide it anymore. For the first year of hormone therapy, I kept it hidden.”

She is also honest enough to admit that, even a decade on, she still suffers from moments of self-doubt.

“It’s not like, ​‘I’ve arrived! I’m fucking whole!’” Mina says, triggering another explosion. ​“I battle with things every day. Some days I think about going back to living as a guy. The pressure of the world, of politics, of the garbage surrounding me – if I let it get to me, I can get sick. My immunity will collapse if I let the world fuck with my power and who I am. And it’s a good thing that I’ve been doing yoga for 30 years. I’ve been meditating for just as long. Thank the ancient gods and that I’ve downloaded the wisdom codes to give me the strength to carry on.”

Mina’s self-preservation and spirituality is evident in most of her interviews, and yet her quest has also contributed to her ongoing sense of frustration with the world she sees around her.

“I think I am a gentle and considerate human being and I believe in true equality. I want everyone to be in love with their lives and the planet itself,” she nods. ​“That’s what life is about, but there are people and organisations that try and get in the way of that so I get frustrated and angry about that.

“Society, the political paradigm, all of it – it’s one big farce, one big façade! It’s very inorganic and anti-life. I don’t care if you’re Democratic or Republican, nobody is leading with love. Nobody!” she continues. ​“Even in Britain. Your policies around trans people – and it’s the same in America – they’re trying so very fucking hard to continuously disempower the human species!”

The idea of codification is something that Mina frowns upon, so how does she view the Pride movement as a whole?

“Pride is a very ego-driven ideology and I work really hard to cut the strings of my ego,” she explains. ​“Pride means different things to different people. The LGBTQ community wants love from the outside world, but I think the LGBTQ community needs to start loving on one another. We’re never going to get respect from the rest of the world if you don’t do that. You have gay guys constantly coming down on trans girls, you’ve got trans girls coming down on trans girls, you’ve got a new fucking word every day and you can’t say this or you can’t say that.

“If Pride gives people a feeling of wholeness, then it’s a good thing. I know it makes a lot of people happy. But you’ve got to create your own circle in a sense rather than be defined by someone else’s narrative.”

Describing herself as ​“a lone wolf”, Mina concludes our conversation by pointing out her issues with the labels ascribed to individuals by society.

“I don’t like being called transgender, or transsexual, or trans-this or trans-that. I’m a beautiful human being. I’m a gender-creative child. I’m very different. I don’t subscribe to these one-dimensional ideas. My mind is too vast, my mind is like the Dao, you know? I wear my heart on my sleeve all the time and that’s what being genuine and authentic is all about,” she offers as one of her parting shots. ​“But if you’re asking me how I am? I’m full of love, full of harmony and thankfulness. What else do you want?”

[prettyoddfever]

the first part of P!ATD’s summer tour (June 2006)

(THE MAIN POST)

some interviews are in this playlist

P!ATD had started practicing with Lucent Dossier at the end of May.

I rambled about Jon’s reception into the band in this post...

The first show on June 6th was in Tucson, so the band was in L.A. on June 5th packing everything up.

Brendon, Jon, and Ryan looked like they raided an American Apparel store before starting this tour ha. Brendon’s lavender & pink hoodies (and the green one he wore in August) were from the women’s section. It might have been a coincidence, but some of the band’s recognizable items from American Apparel became harder to find in some stores. 

Brendon only wore the lavender hoodie for like a month. There were just a lot of pictures taken of him greeting fans after shows.

the band’s site had a fancy Moulin Rouge makeover.

they filmed the video for Lying is the Most Fun (I think that was somewhere around June 19th based on their tour schedule). 

MTV’s “Panic at the Disco makes a video” segment was on in June for a behind the scenes look at the BIBIYD video.

Ok Go was a support band until June 22nd and then The Dresden Dolls took over on June 27th. OK Go had been double booked for their last 3 shows, so Lovedrug stepped in at Orlando, Myrtle Beach, and Norfolk (at which point the tour got a little wild).

the July shows were still getting upgraded to bigger & bigger venues during June.

Live105′s BFD on June 10th was one of my favorite shows this summer because the outdoor lighting was so good. The KJEE Summer Round-Up the next day was great too.

Some fans were super into analyzing Brendon’s diet. The whole “is he actually vegan/vegetarian” debate continued. Brendon was still figuring out which diets helped him to stay healthy & preserve his voice. Fans reported what they saw him eating in restaurants and seriously got reallllly into it & took it personally. Yeah, he ordered vegan meals sometimes, and he used to make comments that sounded like he avoided animal products... alert the media that he just ordered seafood. I think this apparent “inconsistency” contributed somewhat to Brendon’s image as a liar this summer (which mostly stemmed from a lot of nonsense during the Brent fiasco). 

the band started doing more meet & greets on this tour.

Brendon’s wikipedia page was updated saying that he died on June 23rd. Part of the fandom flipped out and then Jon joked about it in an interview a few weeks later in Montreal. (There were a lot of dumb wikipedia updates by this point tbh. I put more about that in this 2007 post).

The stories from this tour sounded like the band used their bus as a refuge and still played a ton of cee–lo. Spin magazine even started their article on that note. Zack said later on that Ryan had been given a gambling limit. Spencer laughed to Kerrang in July that “I don’t drink or smoke, but me and Ryan have gambling problems.” He also said that “Ryan lost a lot of money to me in ping pong. It started out a $20 game, double or nothing. It went back and forth, and we ended up playing a game for $2,000, and I won, and I’ve never seen him more mad in my life.”

it sounded like the whole band was sick by late June. 

P!ATD’s stuff for MTV’s The Big Ten didn’t air until around the second week of July, but it looked like it was filmed at the end of June maybe. 

the 3 songs from the spring iTunes session were released in mid-June (IWSNT, Lying is the Most Fun, & BIBIYD):

OTHER DETAILS

The band really could’ve used some personal security on their spring tour, so Zack was hired and joined the band at the start of the summer tour. And just to clear up an old rumor: Chris was the tour manager for summer – not Jack Marin (so Jack didn’t hire Zack. But pretty sure Jack would’ve been a better tour manager than Chris ha). Brent and Zack also never worked together.

Some fans were confused why a “big bald guy” was always with the band at the start of summer until Zack told some people he was the bodyguard (which really didn’t help the idea that fame was making the band think they were too good for their fans). Zack definitely wasn’t running the whole scene yet, though, or doing anywhere close to what he did in future years. The stuff I heard made it sound like Zack was still trying to figure out exactly what kind of world he’d found himself in and how to deal with a mob of screaming tween girls that you don’t want to exactly alienate.

BAND JOURNAL UPDATES:

06.29.2006 - it reminds me that its not so bad.. not so bad. good evening family. how everything going? were doing great. just finished up the shows in new york city, they were alot of fun. we were really busy in nyc. we hosted t minus rock for mtv2, that will be airing sometime in mid july. we also had to do a photoshoot for blender magazine, im not too sure what that was for but im sure you guys will see it sooner or later. we also recently purchased a play station 2 and the game guitar hero. everyone is addicted. i suggest everyone to play it with your friends, its a lot of fun. the photo album is up on the website too! i uploaded photos i took from may, the june section will be up at the end of the month. tour is going amazing, the dresden dolls just started the tour with us and they are one of the most talented bands you will ever see live. expect what you dont expect, you will be blown away. the hush sound is doing awesome too, were one big happy family. its adorable. time for much needed sleep. see you soon.  - jonathan walker

this one was cross-posted to Ryan’s personal livejournal too:

06.25.2006 The moon bred new Atlantic life tonight.the salt burned you right out of my eyes.and secrets we’re not proud of were taken with the tide. We were all newborns with blurred vision and no sense of direction. Today I saw cancer, cigarettes and shortness of breath. this is why I walk to the ocean.swim with sharks and jellyfish. I may never get this chance again. this is why if you want to kiss you should kiss. If you want to cry you should cry, and  if you want to live you should live. You don’t have to love me. You already did. At least enough to keep me smiling from South Carolina to Virginia.it's for lovers (orjustfriends) This is why I do it.  - ry

06.21.2006 - st. petersburg - supergrass my mother has just informed me that we havent made a journal entry in the past couple days, so everyone thank her for being on top of things for us since we so busy on the road. atlanta, ga... you were incredible. st. petes, lets hang out tonite. we have all caught up on some much needed sleep. the past few days were pretty busy. we had to fly to la early on monday. im not sure if i can tell you exactly what we did yet, so i wont to be safe. heres a few hints though.. it involves fish, the ocean and one of our songs. after la we flew to ATL for a show last night which was so fun, the tabernacle is a beautiful venue and georgia has raised beautiful people. on another note, some of our crew members visited paul walls studio the other day. if you dont know who that is, he makes "grills" for all the famous rappers you see on mtv. to say the least, our crew looks pretty awesome nowadays. besides that, nothing else is new, just having fun and excited to see you guys in the upcomming weeks. ryan is doing a phone interview in his underwear next to me right now. on that note, im going outside to play. bye friends. ps. cassie in 10 days. chicago in 16 days. <3  - jon w.

06.17.2006 it's been a storm for 17 days. everywhere we go, it rains. i feel like it's going to follow us around the whole tour, trying to ruin what we've got, but it can't. its too good, it's a pretty amazing feeling knowing that these shows are truly ours, and you're all there to see us this time. I remember a year ago when we were just starting to write all of these songs you're singing along to now, and i never thought we'd be able to be doing what we are now.I just wanted to say thank you.we're not you're average band, we've got big ideas and we love sharing them with you, trust me, it's just the beginning.  - ryan

06.15.2006 - she doesnt need much besides the cloths on her floor... good day internet family. we have realized that a few options on our website are currently innactive including the photo album and book club. please sit tight, we are working on getting everything up shortly. we just got done playing in new mexico. we had an outstanding time and met a bunch of great people outside after the show. we are so happy to share this tour with all of you. right now, ryan, spencer and i are in the back lounge of our bus listening to third eye blind and talking about music we enjoy. on a side note, i finally obtained my first IPOD. i feel like a new person, i can fall asleep happily, listening to my favorite tunes now. we play oklahoma city tomarrow, i hope they are ready for 3 pretty alright bands to hang out with them tomarrow. as for right now, im very sleepy. i am going to sleep, see you guys soonly.  - <3 jonathan j. walker

06.10.2006 - the hush sound is soooooweeeet. dear panic website visitors, welcome to the new online home. right now i am sitting next to ryan and brendon, bob from the hush sound is here with us but he hit brendon in the eye during a vicious basketball tournament featuring members from both bands, so he is busy giving us foot rubs. we want to thank everyone who helped us kick off the tour in arizona, i hope you had as much fun as we did. we are doing a few radio shows in california this weekend, but we get to continue the tour on tuesday in las vegas. we also went to the store and bought a bunch of new movies to watch so we will be very busy over the next few weeks! for those of you that are planning to come see us on this tour, be ready for an eventful night, we cant wait to see you. hope you enjoy the new site, we will be writting in our journal frequently so check back. and on a personal note, thank all of you for the warm welcome, its greatly appreciated. ps. anyone in the bakersfield, ca area, goto the hush sound show this sunday, july 11th. they will make you happy - jon walker

I’m also condensing the formatting on the livejournal posts to save space...

RYAN’S LIVEJOURNAL ENTRIES:

June 25, 2006 The moon bred new Atlantic life tonight.the salt burned you right out of my eyes.and secrets we’re not proud of were taken with the tide. We were all newborns with blurred vision and no sense of direction. Today I saw cancer, cigarettes and shortness of breath. this is why I walk to the ocean.swim with jellyfish.I may never get this chance again. this is why if you want to kiss you should kiss. If you want to cry you should cry, and if you want to live you should live. You don’t have to love me. You already did. At least enough to keep me smiling from South Carolina to Virginia.it’s for lovers (orjustfriends) This is why I do it.

June 24, 2006 I’m the ghost in the bed.you can touch because i can’t rest. and the lights are always off so I can mold you in the dark.i can shape and pretend.”i just want to have a good time, just like everybody else, but i don’t want to fall apart”

BRENDON’S LIVEJOURNAL ENTRIES:

June 6: caviar and cigarettes. tucson. first day of tour. i hope you're ready. 6.6.06. oh yes. getting sick again. surprise surprise. still heartbroken. still stressed. well-versed in etiquette. extraordinarily nice. shesakillerqueen.

THE HUSH SOUND’S JOURNAL:

6/9/2006 - we are in tempe arizona at some friends of chris' today. We were also here yesterday. This is been the smoothest two days of tour ever... almost. We had a flat tire yesterday and a five hour practice... which was fun. Afterwards we went to one of the busiest malls i've ever gone to on a thursday and we totally hit all the clearance seven foot four inches signs on the way in and we had to back out of the parking garage and it took about ten minutes. About the actual show: We played the first two nights as main support... i'll be honest the first night was not a great show... we had a million technical difficulties... like mic's not being on. or things feeding back. so we took precaution the next night and begged for a sound check... we at least got a line check... it went a lot better... needless to say tempe was a better show. The opening band the outline out of LA was not only sweet dudes but one of the sweetest bands we've encountered. You should most def. check them out.

6/26/2006 - Hey everyone!!! I'm sitting in our hotel about to go explore the wonder that is our nation's capitol... the smithsonian i believe... b/c it's free and awesome. The shows in the southeast have been so rewarding for us. Thank you so much for making it so special for our first time to Florida, Georgia, South Carolina and Virginia. Tomorrow is our show in DC and we are very excited. I'll see you guys when we get there.  - bob and the lush sounds

[rosalynbair]

Shut Me Up 

Chapter One: Deathblow Written by @darth-stetter and @rosalynbair Masterlist | AO3 link | Previous Chapter 

Words: 7.5k | Warnings: mentions of alcohol, cigarettes, sexual language, Henry and Pat are assholes, mentions of blood and a small wound  A/N: Please head the warnings as we update this fic - but we hope you enjoy chapter one!!

A warehouse was not the ideal place to hold auditions. Granted, it was a converted warehouse, but the walls still bled with rust and the scent of metal assaulted everyone’s nose. Y/N’s foot tapped against the cracked concrete floor that was stained with old oil and unknown liquids.

The building seemed to groan with age and history, each blow of the wind outside rattled the window panes and whistled through the rafters. The only other sound in the building other than the breathing of the last few people waiting to audition was the dull sound of an out of tune guitar playing through a monitor in the back room - once an office. Y/N inhaled deeply with her cracked phone in her trembling hands. She furrowed her brows, lowering the volume on her phone discreetly so the other people around her wouldn’t hear what she was watching. Even with her earphones plugged in, the chord dangling and hitting the sides of her face with each movement she made, she felt extremely self conscious that the other tryouts were watching her stalk Mind Failure.

At the moment, she watched in interest as, Danny Lane, the previous rhythm guitarist, went on a monologue about why he left the band, “They were too wild; I was there for the music but I felt like I couldn’t put in any kind of musical input. Patrick was very controlling about that.”

Danny Lane paused for a moment, allowing the reporter to ask, “Mind Failure’s members are known to have a very reckless and dangerous attitude towards life, did you ever feel that you were in danger being in the same room with them?”

The blonde hair man sighed, pushing back his locks to keep the mohawk out of his eyes. His green eyes stared at the floor as he carefully contemplated what he was going to say, his fingers were gripping the fingers of his other hand, wringing them out of nerves. When he finally did answer, he spoke slowly, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully, “I was told many times when I tried out that I didn’t know what I was getting into, I read interviews on their previous guitarists and I thought, ‘Oh these dudes are just pussies,’ but I mean, Mind Failure are who they are, and while some of the members are decent enough, others are bat shit crazy. I love music, and I love their music, but, being around them made me realize that the music wasn’t worth it if I felt that I was constantly in danger, and alienated from a tight knight group of guys.”

“What kind of things did they do that made you feel in danger?”

Danny Lane’s hair now fell over his eye, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his chin, “I am not comfortable talking about that, but, I can say that I wouldn’t recommend anyone trying out for that band. It’s not worth it.”

The video ended at a sudden halt, cutting of the rest of the interview. The person who posted it was obviously only interested in what Danny Lane had to say about Mind Failure.

Intrigued, Y/N fell into the rabbit hole that was Mind Failure, the year’s most popular metalcore band. Prior to being asked to audition for the band, she had never heard of them - though they had won a Kerrang award the year before for best newcomers. She felt slightly terrible for it as she listened to some of their hit tracks - also the first one that showed up on a youtube search, nodding her head and tapping her moss green doc martens on the dirty carpeted floor; the sounds of their songs melding her mind into a dark reality. The angelic voice of the lead singer rang in her ears, making her feel like she was being personally serenaded; his vocals were twisted in with deep guttural growling, and the occasional high pitched squeal. The drums and bass both worked together to give the music the specific oomph necessary to make it not only sound perfectly composed, but powerful.

However, Y/N felt her body shiver when she listened to the sounds of the guitars, small goosebumps rose on her skin as her mind comprehended the technical leads and melodic rhythm guitars. She knew that this track was Patrick doing both guitar track recordings - information given from another interview she had watched. They had been between guitarists at the time, leaving the dark haired musician to gleefully take over the entire process.

This is so good, she thought, feeling excitement budding in her chest for fact that she was trying out for this band.

Still jamming to the Mind Failure’s music on Spotify, she continued to read up on the band’s history, chuckling at their obvious rock star antics, her amusement apparent when she came across a photo of the bassist, Henry Bowers, in handcuffs being pushed up against the hood of a police car, his face bloody and contorted while in mid shout, the long hair of his mullet sticking up in multiple different positions with sweat and blood. The silver blonde haired man next to him being held back by a heavier man. She assumed those two were Vic Criss, the vocalist, and Reggie “Belch” Huggins, the drummer.

Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes trailed over to the other side of the photo, opposite of him, also in handcuffs and pushed against the other side of the hood was a shaggy haired musician, his lips were pulled up into a large, gleeful snarling smile showing off his bloodied teeth, as if he was laughing at the police officers holding him. His nose was bleeding profusely, drops of the thick, red liquid falling into his mouth. His dark grey eyes were wild as he obviously rode a really exciting wave of adrenaline.

Y/N’s curiosity won her over; she immediately clicked on the link below the Google image. The link took her to a metal news website, the dark . Her eyes skimmed the article, smirking when she read about Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter facing charges for aggravated assault, battery, property damage, public intoxication, under the influence of an illegal substance, possession of an illegal substance, assault with a deadly weapon, mild sexual harassment, public nudity (Henry was pantsed by Patrick).

She read the article further, learning that the whole ordeal came to be when two men accused Henry and Patrick of flirting with their dates.

Fucking stupid reason to fight , she thought to herself, shaking her head.

Upon reading more and more articles about the band members, she learned that the photo in question wasn’t their first run in with the law, or the last. As she scrolled further and further down on the news site, she realized there was a pattern; Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter were the ones that always instigated any kind of reckless behavior.

Y/N didn’t realize how much time she had spent doing research on the band until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped in surprise, yanking her earphones out and immediately getting to her feet, her body tensing up for a fight. She eased up a little when she realized who it was that tapped her, “For fuck’s sake, Johnny, what the fuck did I tell you about touching me?”

Johnny smiled at her, the dimples in his cheeks indenting. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, his deep brown eyes gazing at her with an amused expression, “That if I ever did it you would knock me on my ass, cut by dick off and shove it in my mouth so I can literally suck it.”

Y/N eyed him, still trying to collect her composure. Everybody knew that Y/N despised being surprised, and especially touched, and right now, Johnny was mere seconds away from getting his ass kicked. She cleared her throat, quickly glancing around the room, taking note of the other two male musicians waiting for their turn to show off their skills.  “Are they ready for me now?”

He shrugged, an aura of frustration radiating from him, “I gave them a few minutes to take a break; the guys tend to get impatient if they’re sitting still for too long.Tryouts are usually a big hassle for them.”

Y/N rolled her eyes - something she did fairly often at the slightest inconvenience “Right, because sitting and watching people play music is so tiring.”

Johnny chuckled, his lips tilting up into a slight smile despite his annoyance, catching on to her obvious sarcasm, “You try going through twenty tryouts a day every few weeks.”

“No one told them to be assholes,” Y/N retorted., leaning back in the uncomfortable chair.

Johnny’s brows raised, “I see you’ve done your research.”

“I did,” Y/N said, not bothering to hide the fact that she had spent the past three hours stalking them online “I wanted to know more about the band I’m trying out for, and so far, I am both intrigued and mildly irritated, seems like they’re in this for the rock star lifestyle.”

“A common misconception; you will be surprised to know that they love music as much as you do, they have behavioral issues,” he paused, his gaze intensifying as he held her gaze, “Just like you do.”

Y/N tilted her head, scoffing as she feigned offense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his voice sarcastic on the delivery, checking his phone for the time, “I gotta head back in there; we’re taking these two others before we get to you.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, Johnny,” Y/N complained, her voice a high whine. She adjusted her weight on the chair, feeling the ache on her tailbone and back. “You’re the one that asked me to come here.”

“And you would have had your spot reserved if you had shown up on time, Y/N. But, you didn’t, therefore, your slot was taken and you got pushed to the back. Maybe you’ll take my advice seriously next time and show up to your own tryout when you’re supposed to,” Johnny said as he typed in a text into his phone, not even bothering to look up with the explanation.

“For fuck’s sake, Johnny, I had band practice,” Y/N groaned in defense, crossing her arms as and slumping forward in the chair.

His chocolate brown eyes finally looked up from his phone as he addressed her, “You had band practice with a band that you don’t even want to be in Y/N. You’re lucky these guys don’t pay attention to the roster, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it into the running for tryouts.”

Y/N looked up, brows furrowing, taking offense to his words. She was a fucking great guitarist, and in her mind, she was the best. Her elbows pressed against her knees, digging down until there was a discomfort from the pressure, her voice went dark as she asked him, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Johnny quickly caught the attention of one of the other musicians, nodding to the shaggy blonde haired boy that looked like he was fresh from the beaches of California. The musician immediately grabbed his gear as he stood up, waiting for Johnny to lead him into the room in the back, “It means nothing Y/N. Just wait a little longer. Your turn will come.”

He nodded his head to the musician, motioning for him to follow his lead. Y/N still leaned forward on the chair, only lounging back when she dug into her leather jacket for a cigarette and her silver zippo lighter. She inhaled in relief as she took the first drag of nicotine. From the corner of her eye, she could see the other musician stare at her, judging her for daring to light a cigarette in Mind Failure’s warehouse.

Not that it mattered anyways, the whole place was a fucking mess of old beer bottles, cigarette butts, baggies that held traces of cocaine and marijuana. Another cigarette butt in the sea of garbage wouldn’t make a difference.

She sighed deeply, exhaling the smoke from her lungs and out of her nose. The disgust she felt at the how the band lived on their days off was overshadowed by her interest. Their attitudes didn’t bother her, hell, even she had her fair share of felonies under her belt. If anything, it was the music that enticed her into wanting to join their band. A feeling she only started having moments ago when she researched them.

Obviously, Y/N had no prior knowledge to Mind Failure, which was a shame in and of itself because even their older EPs were amazing. So, when Johnny Ray approached her late last night at a show she was playing with her shitty ass band, she was skeptical.

“I think you should try out, you’d be perfect,” Johnny pushed, handing her a bottle of Guinness.

Y/N chugged down the beer and tossed the empty bottle into the crowd with a wince of disgust  when she was finished with it, not checking to see if it hit anyone, and high key not giving a fuck, “Look, suit, I’m not interested in trying out for your jazz, or blues band. I got my own shit to do, and I have my own band.”

“Of course, but, if we’re being honest, your band sucks. And the only reason why you get a crowd like this is because you’re hot, and slightly because of your skill. The rest of your bandmates are shitty musicians, and you have so much potential to be better,” he said, banging his hand against the bar counter to make his point, “With us, you could get there.”

“I told you, dick, I’m not interested in--”

“It’s not a fucking jazz band, and I’m not a band member; I’m the manager,” he informed, as if that would make a difference, “Besides, everyone knows that you hate playing in this band, the only reason you still do is because you need the cash. If that’s the case, you’d be making ten times more if you joined us,” he paused, brining his beer bottle to his lips, “If you even made it past tryouts.”

Y/N waved down the bartender, who immediately brought her three shots of vodka. She lined them up next to each other, taking them down one by one, not even feeling the burn of the alcohol anymore. Once she finished the last one, she slammed the small shot glass on the counter, finally meeting the manager’s stare, “How much cash we talking here?”

“Enough to get you off of your drummers bed bug infested couch,” he said, watching her with a small smirk. “And some new equipment.”

Y/N learned one simple truth as a musician, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably was. But, Y/N wasn’t known for being careful, she was known for jumping from band to band; using each experience as a stepping stone to get her where she needed to be. Where that was? Fuck if she knew. But, if these fuckers had the cash to pay her for her skill, then fuck it. What was another stepping stone but an opportunity to climb higher on the musical ladder.

“Alright, I’ll try out for your band,” she agreed, grabbing the bottle from Johnny’s hands. She took a long drink before she continued, “It better not be a fucking folk band, John, otherwise I’ll burn the fucking place down.”

He reached out to her, trying to planting a card into her leather jacket. Instinctively, she pulled back, snatching the card from his hand as she pointed her finger at him; her pointed acrylics looking more intimidating than she actually was, warning, “And don’t ever fucking try to touch me again, if you do, I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Y/N began to disappear into the crowd, vaguely hearing his voice calling out to her, “I’ll put you in for 2 pm tomorrow!”

Being the idiot that she was, however, Y/N forgot about the tryouts and rushed out of band practice, only to arrive three hours late with messy hair and a sweat sheen body from the heat of the basement she had practiced in. And, like Johnny said, she was lucky to still be given a chance to tryout. Especially considering the fact that she wanted the money. She needed it.

The musician that went in for his tryouts walked out of the back room in a huff, kicking the cans on the floor and slamming the heavy door of the warehouse shut behind him, she could vaguely hear him yelling curse words as he walked further from the building. The other person in the room stared at her, the intimidation clear on his face.

The echoes from the back room could be heard down the hall as they bounced off the walls, “You can’t keep humiliating and talking down to all the tryouts, Bowers!”

“I was just fucking with him; not my fault he can’t take a fucking joke,” a man said, his voice raspy from the yell, she assumed it was Henry Bowers, as if Johnny calling him by his last name didn’t make it obvious.

She heard childish snickering coming from the room, “Oh, you think this is funny, Hockstetter? We go on tour in three fucking weeks! You need a new guitarist to--”

“I see another guitarist come into that room, I’m going to beat the shit out of them,” Henry said loudly, and she could almost picture the boy standing with his arms crossed and a sneer on his face.

The other musician in the room, seemingly intimidated by Bowers’ words, immediately grabbed his equipment and scurried off. Y/N smiled to herself, crushing her cigarette under her boot, just me now.

“We only have two more left,” Johnny said in a gentle tone, as if he was trying to comfort a band of toddlers.

“Just bring the next person in, Johnny,” a tired, softer voice said, “Henry will get over it once this is over, he just needs to dip into some pussy.”

“Fine,” Johnny spat, “But you’d better fucking sit your ass through these tryouts or so help me god I will--”

“ I will, I will ,” a mocking voice repeated, mimicking Johnny’s voice, “Shut the fuck up and bring those sorry cock suckers in here.”

A roar of laughter erupted from the room. Seconds later, Johnny appeared in the room, confused and puzzled that Y/N was the only one there. Y/N shrugged, simply explaining, “Guess your other tryout bitched out.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and motioned with his fingers for Y/N to follow him, “Just don’t take anything they say too personally- they can be pretty rough.”

“I can handle myself,” she assured, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously,” he paused, a look of terror in his eyes, he needed her now more than ever. “ Please , don’t take it personally.”

Y/N nodded, raising her brow, “I’ll be fine.”

Johnny released a loud sigh from his nose, the stress obvious when he began to rub his hands together. Y/N followed Johnny into a large open room, the walls spray painted with graffiti all around save for the large window on the other end. There was a large plush, black couch pushed against the wall, two men occupied that one, and she immediately matched the guys to their photos; Vic Criss sat on one end of the couch, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression on his face. Belch Huggins looked as if he was dozed off on the other end of the couch, his head laid on the hand rest with his cap over his face, while his feet were sprawled over the edge.

Near the large open window, Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter seemed to be having what looked like an impromptu knife fight. Henry lunged toward Patrick, who jumped out of the way, cackling maniacally, “Getting a little slow there, huh Bowers?”

“Fuck you, twig,” Henry spat.

Johnny cleared his throat, trying to get their attention, “Guys, this is Y/N.”

At the mention of her name, all eyes were now on her. Even Belch, who had been snoring a few minutes prior, was wide awake now, gaping at her like if she was a figment of their imaginations.

Vic Criss tilted his head, a small smile spreading across his lips. He quickly put his phone down and crossed his arms over his chest.

Henry and Patrick however, stared at her in shock. Henry ran his hand through his outdated mullet styled hair, “Are we starting the pussy party early, Johnny? Cause if so, I think you really should have brought more.”

“We can share her,” Patrick whispered, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. His playful figure quickly turned into a sexual gesture, as he thrust his crotch out, his long fingers running over the zipper as he licked his lips. His eyes observed her from her moss green doc martens, the black laces wrapped twice around her ankles, up to her torn skinny jeans, and then to her exposed belly area. His eyes lingered on her obvious cleavage, admiring the way her torn shirt showed just enough skin to tease his imagination, “I go first.”

“In your fucking dreams, creep,” Y/N scoffed, setting her sticker covered guitar case on the ground.

Their eyes watched the movement, and in a sudden instant, their expressions went from flirty to hostile in a matter of seconds. Patrick was the first to speak up, laughing, “Aw, she thinks she can try out for the band, Hen.”

“You can try out,” Henry started, slowly walking towards her, “If you get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Y/N laughed, loudly, throwing the men in the room off, “I’m sorry, but I only fuck with guys who are over 8 inches, and you,” she paused, checking Henry out and sighing dramatically, “You look like you’re 3 inches, tops.”

Vic and Belch snickered at the insult. Henry was livid, and Patrick stared at her darkly, his hand fidgeting with something in the pocket of his plaid red and black overshirt. Y/N turned to Johnny, “Where do I plugin?”

Johnny, who was eyeing Henry and Patrick carefully, turned to her, “We use the Line 6 half stack over here for the tryouts.”

Y/N nodded, kneeling down next to her guitar case as she casually flipped the latches open. Her guitar had seen some better days, once, before she owned it. Now, the once white Ibanez GRG had chipped paint on the edges, the fretboard was slightly warped from previous water damage. The permanent marker drawings she made on it were covered with stickers that she had given up on removing. But, she loved that guitar with all her heart; the only thing she ever really loved.

Lazily, she placed the mickey mouse strap over her shoulder, plugging in the amp cord that Johnny handed to her, and strummed the guitar to make sure it was in the proper tuning.

“You really play with that piece of shit?”

Y/N tried to bite her tongue at Henry Bower’s rude comment, instead opting to focus on her guitar, still tuning it, “This piece of shit has more balls than you and your boy put together.”

She could feel Henry’s glare on her, but she refused to acknowledge him, telling herself that if she lost her temper right now, she wouldn’t get the opportunity to earn the cash for her own musical interests.

Stepping stones , she reminded herself; trying to suppress the fact that she genuinely did enjoy the music these assholes created.

Once her guitar was properly tuned to drop d, the tuning she knew these boys played on, she strummed her guitar rhythmically, playing a small piece of a song from her other band.

She turned to face the guys all staring at her, Vic, the lead singer, leaned back on the couch, “Well, go ahead and blow us away, babe.”

Y/N’s fingers went to the slightly warped fretboard, the tips touching the strings - her nails briefly touching the other strings before she adjusted them - as the fingers on her other hand grasped her 0.5 pick, strumming the strings as she played a technical solo, her fingers bent the strings as she shredded on the frets, doing sweep movements, and finger tapping; her eyes caught a glimpse of Vic’s face, his jaw dropped open in awe and Belch nodded his head to an imaginary beat in his head, as if he was playing his drums along to her.

She continued to shred on her guitar for another minute before pausing. When she stopped, Vic and Belch stood up and gave her a standing ovation, along with Johnny Ray.

Belch was the first to speak, smiling as he walked over and high fived Y/N, “That was fucking awesome!”

Vic came up beside him, holding out his fist for a fist bump, “Hell yeah, I like her, Johnny! Better than the fucking sugar sniffers you brought in earlier - she actually knows how to play.”

Johnny, pleased with himself, smiled, “I knew you would,” his eyes trailed over to the other two men who were eyeing their bandmates with vicious disdain, “What do you guys think?”

Henry pursed his lips together, staring at Y/N up and down, “Do you even know any of our songs?”

“I’m a fast learner,” she answered, holding her guitar by the fretboard.

Henry scoffed, staring at Patrick. Though, Y/N noticed a tiny glint in his eyes, like he was impressed as well. Patrick, however, still remained stoic as he lazily waltzed over to her side. He reached out towards the rack of various guitars, picking up a black ESP Kirk Hammett signature guitar with white symbols imprinted on it. Y/N stared at the instrument with awe and envy, wishing she could afford something as beautiful as the guitar Patrick held in his hands, plugging it into the other Line 6 half stack.

It didn’t take long for him to tune his guitar, and he stared at her with dark eyes as he also began to shred in front of her. He was taller than her, staring down to her with his legs spread.

Y/N knew what this was, he was establishing his dominance; he was cementing his territory, saying with his stance, his hard stare, and the gesture of playing during her tryout, that she was never going to be a part of their band.

The hell I’m not , Y/N thought.

She immediately began to finger pick as well, keeping up with Patrick’s ever increasing speed, refusing to back down and let him win.

The air in the room was tense, she knew all eyes were on herself and Patrick, but right now, it was only she and him. Both of them fighting for their right to play in the band, neither refusing to back down. His riffs were raw, angry and powerful; communicating with her that she was not welcome.

Hers were just as heavy, pushing back, unrelenting.

Finally, Y/N shredded so heavily, so quickly, that two of her strings popped loose, flying and snapping hard against her fingers. She felt the pain in her hands as a small cut formed on her fingers, still, she played with the remaining strings, choosing to stick to soloing.

The battle wasn’t over until Patrick ended his solo with a hard riff, prompting Y/N to stop as well.

They both stood still, the silence in the room was deafening as they glared at one another. Johnny came up beside Y/N, keeping his distance, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Huh?”

Johnny pointed to her hand and she looked down at it as it covered her strings and guitar in blood, “Oh? This is nothing, I’ll be fine.” She shrugged, rubbing the cut fingers on her jeans.

“Like a badass,” Belch smiled, nodding his head in approval; Vic nodding along with him in agreement.

Henry’s face was blank, void of any emotion, but his eyes trailed to her open wounds, and then up to her eyes; he furrowed his brows slightly in amusement, but it was quickly replaced with indifference when he gazed upon Patrick’s dark stare.

Y/N scoffed, smirking when she met his eyes, “Is that all?”

Patrick opened his mouth as he was about to speak, when he was crudely interrupted by Vic, “For now, yes. We’ll keep in touch, but, I think you’re the one.”

“Fuck yes,” Belch agreed.

“Fuck no,” Patrick said, “There’s not a chance in hell--”

“We’re not letting a chick in the band,” Henry said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You just saw--”

“No,” Patrick interrupted as Vic was trying to make his point.

Y/N, frustrated with the bitching between the guys unplugged her guitar and gently placed it in its case while the guys continued to argue. She picked her case up from the handle, speaking loudly over the boys, “Look, mull it over or do whatever the fuck you guys gotta do, but I got shit to take care of and I am not staying here to listen to grown ass guys bitch like high school girls.”

The boys stared at her in shock, their eyes wide as she turned to speak to Johnny, “Take down my number, gimme a call when these pussies make up their minds.”

Johnny smirked in amusement at her obvious ballsy nature; he pulled out his phone, dialing her number, “Let me walk you out.”

“Later, bitches,” she casually said, flipping the boys the finger as Johnny ushered her out of the room.

When they were finally out of the warehouse, he spoke to her as he lit a cigarette, “You shouldn’t antagonize them; your chances of joining won’t be pretty now.”

“I don’t think my chances were great to begin with,” she confessed, somewhat defeated. Johnny handed her his cigarette and she graciously took it, puffing on it and exhaling a cloud of smoke in relief.

Johnny lit another cigarette for himself, his voice was slightly a mumble with the cigarette pressed between his lips, “Probably, but, I’ll see to it that you make it in. Whether they care to admit it or not, you’re the best tryout we’ve seen; and you’re not afraid of them, which means you won’t bail at the first sign of trouble.”

Y/N tilted her head, bringing the cigarette to her lips, “Just how much do you know about me?”

“Enough to know that you’re the real deal,” he said, smirking. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he quickly took it out to read a barrage of text messages coming in. He chuckled with a slight sigh. He pushed the phone back into the pocket of his blazer, looking down at her bloody hand, “Make sure to get that looked at; if you make it in, we can’t have you taking hiatus before you’ve even had the chance to start.”

“I’ll be alright,” she assured, cockiness in her voice.

Johnny laughed in amusement, turning and entering the warehouse, “And get those strings replaced.”

Y/N flipped him off, the blood was now dry on her fingers when the door shut behind him.

She turned, slowly dragging her legs along the hard concrete ground. Nighttime was setting in, and she could have called a cab, but her funds were running low and in all honesty, she preferred to feel the night air on her skin. It was going to be a long walk, but she needed it if she was going to ponder the possibility of being in Mind Failure.

Patrick and Henry were adamant that she was never going to be in the band, but, she had Vic, Belch and Johnny on her side; which had to count for something… right?

It had been two and a half weeks. Two and a half fucking weeks and not once did she hear a peep from Johnny, or any kind of status updates on Mind Failure’s website on the new rhythm guitarist. She checked the sight hourly, waiting to see if it would change, but it still read in big red letters, “Tryouts Open.”

She groaned in frustration for the fifth time that day, vaguely paying attention to the members in her band going on about how they wanted to change the sound of the band, for the third fucking time.

Y/N stood in the background, scrolling through her phone; band practice today was held at Evan’s garage, or more specifically, his parent’s house.

“Yo, who the fuck is that?” Evan asked, pointing to someone outside.

Y/N turned to see Johnny Ray leaning against a black Ferrari.

“Oh shit, yo, I think that’s Johnny Ray, the manager of that fucking band--Mind Failure,” Sam said, snapping his fingers, and jumping up in excitement, “Fuck, maybe he’s here to sign us!”

The guys started yapping away about the possible idea of being signed. Y/N lazily unplugged her guitar, pushing the instrument behind her back as she walked out of the garage and towards Johnny.

“You here to check out my shitty band?”

Johnny laughed, removing his sunglasses, “I’ve had enough of that piece of crap band of yours; and I’m sure you have too,” he turned, opening the door to his expensive car, “Grab your shit, let’s go.”

“What--”

“Do you want to be in Mind Failure or not?”

Y/N turned suddenly, meeting the stares of her ex bandmates and flipping them off as she shouted, “Hey guys, fuck you! I quit!”

She quickly ran to the other side of the car, jumping in and trying her best not to jump in anticipation as Johnny explained to her how her life was going to change, “Right now, I’m taking you to Empire Records to sign a temporary contract.”

“Temporary Contract?”

“So, the way we work this out is we have you sign a minor touring contract; this is only because these guys go through musicians fast, once you have stayed for a full year, then you will sign a permanent contract similar to what the rest of the band members signed,” he said, looking at his phone as he drove, typing a quick text message.

Y/N nodded, “And what are the terms of this contract?”

“You’ll see when we get to the office, I have my lawyer on call to review it for you in case you don’t understand it or want to change something, and I’ll be there as well,” he smiled, eyeing her sideways.

“And the guys?”

“They’re prepping for touring; we leave in a week, so we need to get this underway as soon as possible. If you agree to the contract, I’ll need you to pack essentials to bring on tour with you, as well as your equipment,” he said, turning into a large parking garage.

He hurriedly opened the door, his legs rushing towards the elevator in the parking garage, prompting Y/N to hastily shove her guitar onto the passenger seat. She felt her body begin to tremble with anticipation; she couldn’t believe this was actually happening to her.

She followed Johnny into the large office on the 25th floor, Johnny leaned over the counter of the receptionist’s desk, “Hey Joan, how’s my favorite lady today?”

Joan stared at Johnny with a hard look, the older lady in her mid forties obviously not having Johnny’s flirtatious advances, “You’re late to your appointment, Mr. Ray.”

“Is he pissed?”

Joan smirked, “Fuming.”

Johnny shrugged, walking towards the wide, large doors on his left. Without knocking, he pushed to doors open, strutting inside like he owned the place, “Alright, sorry I’m late, but I was caught in traffic.”

Tristan Roberts, who was sitting behind his desk, leaned forward on his desk, “Traffic? It’s fucking 10 AM,” his hard stare fell on Y/N; he took in her appearance, smirking as he stared at her standing there in her signature green Docs, black jeans rolled up to cuff above her boots. Her fishnets she wore under the jeans rested above the waistband, clinging to her skin, the old standard round neck t-shirt that rested at her hips, eyeing the obvious tattoos on her skin, “Nice, I see why you were adamant about his one Johnny; record sales will skyrocket if someone as good looking as her is in that band.”

“I recruited her for her skills, Tristan,” Johnny said with irritation in his voice, “Now, let’s get this shit started.”

Johnny motioned for Y/N to sit beside him as he dialed the band’s trusted lawyer while Tristan handed Y/N a copy of the contract. She looked over it, listening to Johnny’s lawyer explain to her the legality of it all, “Now, here’s the thing, since you are going to be signing a temporary contract, the only revenue you will make is from playing shows. You will not receive any pay from streaming sites, royalties or record sales until a full contract is signed; this is just so we guarantee that you stay in the band, once that has been established, we will make a permanent contract and you will receive the same amount of pay as the rest of the members, including participating in the making of their future albums.”

Y/N nodded, knitting her eyebrows at the legal jargon on the paper. Tristan and Johnny stared at her when she looked up from the paper, “So,” Johnny said, handing her a pen, “What’s it going to be?”

The tour bus was thick with the scent of cigarettes and cheap beer, Johnny hoped the guys weren’t up partying in the fucking bus again, but once he gazed at the sight in front of him he slowly felt himself die inside; Vic was sprawled over the small couch, Belch was retching in the restroom, Henry laid naked next two blonde women and Patrick was nowhere to be found.

Angrily, he grabbed the air horn he kept hidden in the driver’s seat of the bus and obnoxiously squeezed it; the boys automatically jumped up in surprise, yelling in shock “What the fuck, Johnny?!”

“You guys leave for touring today, get your shit together,” he chastised, his patience wearing thin as he tried not to yell, tossing the blonde woman her skimpy clothing, “Where the fuck is Hockstetter?”

“Fuck if I know,” Henry answered, recording the whole ordeal on his phone; which was going to end up on his instagram account, “Ask mom over there.”

Johnny turned to Vic who shrugged, rubbing his face as he stretched, “You know Hockstetter, he wanders off doing god knows what and doesn’t show up until it’s time to leave, he’ll be here.”

Belch slammed the door of the restroom shut behind him, rubbing his forehead with his sleeveless flannel shirt, “Coffee, aspirin.”

“The coffee is on it’s way,” he said, “Aspirin is in the cupboard right there; you guys really should reevaluate your partying, I don’t think this mess is going to make a good impression on Y/N.”

Henry rolled his eyes, sitting up on the floor, still naked, “I think it will; she’ll see that I’m not a weak three inches and soon enough, she’ll be on her knees begging me to fuck her.”

He laughed at his own joke, amused with his humor. Vic rolled his eyes, tossing Henry his faded jeans, “She’s out of your league, Hen.”

As if it couldn’t get worse, the door suddenly opened and Y/N furrowed her brows at the mess inside the tour bus. She smirked slightly when she saw Henry’s back as he pulled his pants up, catching a glimpse of his ass, “I can’t say much about your dick, but you do have a cute ass.”

Henry turned beet red while the guys all laughed, he marched off towards the restroom in a huff, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Sorry for the mess,” Vic apologized, a sheepish half smile on his lips, his fingers carding through his hair.

“The only thing you need to be sorry for is not fucking inviting me,” Y/N said, pushing the guitar on her strap behind her.

Belch and Vic smiled, already liking the new member of the band. Johnny rolled his eyes, glancing over at Y/N, “Did you bring your equipment?”

“Yeah, your roadies are hauling my stack into the trailer,” she said, kicking the beer cans aside as she sat near Vic, photobombing his selfie with a kiss to his cheek. Vic didn’t seem to mind, as he moved his arm further to catch both of them in it.

“Belch get in here,” Vic called.

Belch jumped on the their laps, prompting groans of pain from Y/N and Vic.

“Vic, show Y/N to her bunk, I have to get back to the office; but remember, try to be on your best behavior- ugh I don’t even know why I bother,” he said, mostly to himself as Belch began to play with Vic’s nipple guard through his mesh shirt, “Make sure Hockstetter is on this bus before it leaves.”

Johnny promptly exited the bus, leaving Y/N alone with the boys for the first time.

Vic and Belch weren’t bad however, they both immediately started complimenting her on her playing, “Your riffs were sick; even Bowers was blown away, though, he didn’t want to admit it.”

Vic got to his feet and motioned for Y/N to follow him to the back of the bus, “The bunks are back here; Henry, Belch and I have the bottom ones, Pat has the top one and that leaves you with the other top one.”

He pointed to the only empty bunk in the crowded room, “It tends to get hot up there, so be careful. Also, there’s an empty drawer over there for your clothes. Make yourself comfortable, breakfast is being brought to us.”

“Thank you,” she said, shooting Vic her most sweetest smile, making the blonde haired guy blush slightly.

Y/N took a moment to glance around the dark bunk room, admiring how each bunk was easily identifiable to whom it belonged to. Vic’s was neat, with fluffy pillows and what looked to be like a soft, feather blanket. Belch’s was slightly ruffled, a pair of drumsticks tossed on it. Henry’s bunk was- surprisingly- somewhat neat, save for the numerous amounts of shirts piled on it. Patrick’s, however, was the filthiest of all. The blankets were on a heap on his bed, the thin mattress peeking out below the blanket; there was no pillow at all and a guitar lay on top of it, with small pieces of paper stuffed into the walls along with a half smoked joint and a pack of Camel Bolds.

She tilted her head, setting her own guitar on the bed. She began to unpack her clothes, fitting them and her accessories into the one drawer. She pulled out her small clip on fan, grateful that she even decided to bring it in the first place.

As she turned to head back towards the “dining” area of the bus, she bumped into the tall, lanky, shaggy haired guy that was Patrick. He wore tight black skinny jeans that were torn at the knees, the cuffs pushed into large, black combat boots. The blue and black flannel overshirt he wore barely covered the dried bloodstains on his white undershirt, his knuckles were cut open as if he was fighting.

He didn’t say a word, he just stood there, staring at her as he smoked his cigarette. Frustrated with the awkward silence, she asked,  “You gonna say something or just stand there and stare?”

Patrick’s stare was still blank, until he finally pushed beside her and climbed into his bunk, his eyes still on her while he exhaled a large cloud of smoke as his hands began to play his guitar.

Y/N scoffed, knowing full well that he was still trying to intimidate her. Just to spite him, she stayed in the room, climbing into her bunk and enjoying the cool breeze of the mini clip on fan, smirking at Patrick’s sweaty face. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, as he was unaware of it, still staring at her.

Belch’s voice cut the silence in the air, “Yo, Pat, Y/N; breakfast is here!”

Y/N continued to stare back at Patrick, finally breaking her gaze as her stomach rumbled, betraying her.

She jumped off of her bunk, heading towards the delicious smell of pancakes, bacon, eggs and coffee in the air; she could still feel Patrick’s eyes on her as she left however, somehow, she knew that the only reason she was here was because of Johnny, Vic, Belch and maybe even Henry.

This was something that Patrick obviously objected to, and he wasn’t going to make her time with Mind Failure easy, she somehow also guessed that he would do anything in his power to make her quit. But, he had another thing coming if he thought he could get rid of her that easily.

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