#if I get to tour with my favourite bands that's a plus

[sschmendrick]

One day I'll become a backliner.

[cads-the-cat]

Sleep Token is being turned into a brand rather than a band and being commercialised to a point where it will harm them more than help them

An opinion on there being too much ST merch

Befofe starting this, i want to clear up a few things

I am aware that Vessel and ii probably have very little responsibility/say in this and it's the management/rca who is doing this

Yes, i am a fan and i support them. However, it is unhealthy and not good to blindly support every decision and action of your favourite artist, person etc without questioning them and holding them accountable

I know that earning money with music in times of streaming is hard/impossible but that does not justify those moves of tryihg to get as much money as possible out of them

This also applies to other bands, but the extent to which this aapplies to ST is extreme compared to others

We are one week into this year and there has already been a new merch drop. After 6 days. You know when the last one was? Less than a month ago. Same merch shop (US). The items? Some of them questionable (flannels??). The leather jacket? Insane (not in a good way). It looks okay but you could make one yourself and make it look way cooler and get it for less money as one of my tumblr moots said.

I remember last year up until July/August it kind of was a running joke in the fandom about the emails with obtain and how we're too broke to obtain, but now? This is not a joke anymore. Ever since last year we have gotten emails ALMOST EVERY MONTH, sometimes even several times a month about new merch releases.

Yes, there are different stores worldwide, but we live in a time of international shipping. And even for one store it's lots of releases. Plus then there's all the licensed products shops like Hot Topic, Impericon, EMP and whatever their local equivalents are, who also constantly release more merch.

What's even worse: a lot of those things are either a shitty quality (if i remember right, one of the hoodies or tshirts from the EU tour 2024 had the print peeling off after one wash) and/or really bland. Where is the cool art, the thing that makes these items special? I got a tshirt from the German Rituals 2023 with this sick artwork on it that i cherish more than anything. But compared to that most tour merch of the more recent tours has been nothing special.

Most of them just have the logo on it and it reminds me of any ither fashion brand. There's only so many jumpers and t-hsirts and sweatshirts with the logo that a person needs and the constant release of new but actually the same stuff is creating this insane overconsumption which harms fans' bank accounts and the environment and is straight up boring. There's nothing about them that makes them special and unique and cool. It feels like at this point it is a contest of how many ST logos can they plaster on an item before it looks ridiculous (on the leather jacket i counted at least four, three of them massive).

Which brings me to the next point. People just slap on a ST logo because the band is so hyped and to make money off it or get more clicks, even if it is only remotely related to them. I understand that in today's world you need to use buzzwords to make people pay attention, but with ST it has reached the most ridiculous level. The air of anticipation some magazines or brands build around some upcoming stuff with words like Worship and whatever, which everyone connects to ST, just to reveal a mid product or result is just horrible and will eventually make it less effective which can harm the band in the long run if they can't build up excitement for new releases as much as they could because everyone is 'burnt out' because it's been overused.

Overall, this insane amount of merch and using ST to sell anything or get clicks is not okay. The fan base is so dedicated and loyal and we deserve better than to be - for the lack of a better word - exploited like this just because we like and support an artist. Prices for everything have been rising for years and it's hard for a lot of us financially. We spend so much money on concerts already and then the ton of merch and everything on top is just too much. ST as a brand is used to exploit fans which is not how you should treat your fans (again want to emphasise that this is mostly on management and label, not Vessel)

You might think 'But you don't have to go to concerts or buy their merch'. That's right, you don't. But concerts are kind of the thing when you're a fan of a band, and you want to support your fave band abd wear merch and show that you like them. However, the merch and everything is limited and posed in a way that creates FOMO and everyone is always drilled to Consume and Obtain (yes that's how capitalism works and that is not good in this situation because it harms us fans so much.) I can't deny I've given in to this as well twice during the EU shows and i am now left with an underwhelming sweatshirt and a hat that i never really needed and probably wouldn't have bought if i hadn't been in this mindset so much.

'Oh but i want to support Vessel and the band.' Yes, merch does help out artists, especially in times of streaming. But how much do you think they make? Merch is using little to no lyrics or song related things that the band could earn money off due to copyright. And i don't know who owns the right to the logo (i did some research and found someone in management with three trademarks on something ST related but it never specified if that applies to just the name or the logo or the music or whatever - it was not Vessel though). Who knows how much is going to management and the label and how much the band actually earns. Right now it feels like the management and label want to make as much money possible from them for their own gain. As an alternative to support them, start buying their albums and vinyls so they earn more money off their songs.

So, what do i want? Obviously i don't want fans to stop buying merch because it does help artists to some degree. However, I want less merch releases, one or maximum two a year per merch store (so AUS, US and UK/EU). We can have a few simple designs with the logo on it, but i also want some cool pieces with art or something else that makes them special. I know artists are expensive and stuff, but that's why you make less items but higher quality. Make them available in larger quantities so that more people can buy them and they will still get their money. Plus you always have extra tour merch, which is another extra release. Make the merch special again and make it mean something to people instead of just being another logo like a fashion brand.

If they continue like this fans will eventually be unable to afford stuff, people will turn away from merch because they realise it's all the same, and the effect of using ST as a brand/connection simply to sell stuff will harm their reputation (it already is). Whoever is responsible for this merch insanity needs to put a stop to it. Please!

This is just my opinion. Disagree if you want to. Some things, especially the effects of the situation, are portrayed slightly exaggerated, but this is how it makes me feel and I truly believe this is not a great situation we're in right now with the merch.

(Not taking any responsibility for typos)

[borninwinter81]

Black metal battle vest update

A few more patches here - still plenty of space, but I'm getting to the point where the free spots are small and/or awkward.

Many of these are traced or stencilled and painted with black fabric paint onto white fabric.

The Greek lettering is from Rotting Christ and means "666". I don't understand Greek so I don't know how that works, but I feel like less of a teenage edgelord with this than I would a patch that just says "666".

Impaled Rektum is the band from the movie Hevi Reissu (Heavy Trip). Strictly speaking they don't belong on a BM vest as their music in the movie definitely leans more towards death metal (or more accurately symphonic post-apocalyptic reindeer-grinding Christ-abusing extreme war pagan fennoscandian metal) but I love that movie. Plus all the characters in the band represent a different genre, and Pasi/Xytrax is clearly supposed to embody BM.

Morbid is the band Per Ohlin/Dead was in before Mayhem. They only did one EP plus a few tracks that were only ever performed live, but they're awesome. Again not BM really, but with the Dead connection I felt like I could include them. Plus the shape is perfect for this spot 😁

Behemoth and Satyricon shouldn't need any introduction - those are both painted - and Rotting Christ underneath, which I bought from their bandcamp store. Seems appropriate to have those 3 together since I'm seeing them all on The Unholy Trinity tour next year.

The Alcest one is also painted. One of their logos is a little more complicated and I didn't even attempt it, but luckily they have another which is very simple and fits this spot perfectly. Alcest are a French band, and created blackgaze, a fusion of BM and shoegaze. Their music is gorgeous.

Last of the painted ones, and the first one I did using my tracing method. I got so much confidence from this that it led me to making all the others. Sarcófago, phenomenal Brazilian band who played a huge part in shaping what we think of as BM today.

As did Celtic Frost just underneath, this patch came from the Danse Macabre boxset because I'm a heathen who uses her collectible merch instead of keeping it pristine.

On that subject... two Immortal patches. Northern Chaos Gods was bought singly but War Against All was from the boxset too. I don't know whether I'm likely to get shit for this or not, but I've listened to Immortal for years, and I honestly think the last two albums (the ones since Abbath left) are their best ever, which is why I'm representing both of them here.

The War Against All box also had a pin badge but I haven't decided where on the vest I want to put it. It also came with an artcard signed by Demonaz which is exclusive to Eyesore Merch in the UK.

Backpatch. This was also homemade, but I'm not skilled enough to paint it, so it was done with printer transfer paper. Ulver are one of my favourite bands of all time, from their 90s BM, to their avant-garde, neoclassical, experimental, noise, psychedelic, and 80s synth style. All their work is absolute genius, and Nattens Madrigal is my favourite of their early material.

Lastly a couple of purchased ones, Bathory who again should need no introduction, and Agalloch who are another all-time favourite of mine, everything they've ever created is stunningly beautiful.

[theemporium]

Omg please I've been craving eastablished relationship sirius x fem!reader fluff I feel like i've read through the entire tag

What about rockstar!sirius who misses reader and is moping so james and remus set up a surprise and fly her out to a show and she's standing at the baracade and sirius sees her and like jumps off the stage to go to her?

i love rockstar!sirius my beloved<3 thank you for requesting!!

.

To be frank, Sirius Black had been insufferable for the last two months.

When the band had been touring around the UK and Europe, you were able to join them at most, if not all, shows. Sirius loved having you by his side, knowing that one of his favourite people on the planet was with him whilst he did something he loved. And you loved watching your boy thrive in his element. 

However, when the tour moved to North America, you were unable to follow. 

Despite his insistence that he had more than enough money to take care of you both (and let you be his full time favourite groupie), he knew how much your degree meant to you and he wouldn’t ever want you to drop your dreams when you supported his so much. So, you had stayed in the UK to continue your education. 

And Sirius was downright miserable with the distance between you.

Not that anyone would notice. To the world, Sirius Black was still going out on stage and performing like every show was his last. He was a rockstar through and through, and the world fell in love with him a little more with each performance. 

But to his bandmates? They had nothing but constant whining and complaining and moping that Sirius didn’t have his girl by his side. And, to be honest, James and Remus had reached their wit’s end. They could deal with a lot, but two months of it?

No. They knew they needed to do something.

It wasn’t hard to convince you at all to fly over and visit for a short leg of the North America tour. You had been just as miserable without your boy back home. The apartment felt empty without him. And his guitars were a little dusty, which was a sight you weren’t used to. And having one side of the bed constantly cold, with his scent long faded from the pillows, it was starting to take a toll on you.

You packed a bag and made your way to the airport without a second thought, landing in Michigan the day of their show. 

“This is ridiculous.”

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Remus, you want me to get into a suitcase,” you deadpanned, wondering if the tour had finally driven him over the edge. “I am going to suffocate in there!”

“You won’t,” James reassured you with a bright grin. “We’ve done it plenty of times. Plus, it’s just until we can get you into the venue without fans seeing and spoiling the surprise.” 

And you knew he had a point. 

The boys didn’t just want to fly you over and throw you at Sirius. No, they wanted to surprise him, completely knock the air out of his lungs. They didn’t want some lame reunion in a hotel room before he was rushed off onto stage and you were forced to stand backstage until the set ended. 

Go big or go home, and the marauders always chose the former. 

It was why you agreed to get in the suitcase, staying in the cramped space until you reached the venue. It was why you agreed to wear the oversized hoodie, despite standing amongst the fans in the ridiculously hot crowd. It was why you agreed to keep your disguise up until the first few songs passed. 

And then, you threw the hood off your head and you gripped the edge of the barricade as you looked up at the stage, as you looked up at your boyfriend and took in the sight of him for the first time in two months. The tight trousers fitted around his thick thighs, the leather jacket exposing his bare and tattooed torso, the sweat gleaming like a thin layer on his skin and the messy black hair that you missed running your fingers through.

Fuck, you missed your boyfriend.

Sirius lifted his head to look away from his fretboard, his eyes on the crowd as he played the opening riff to the next song, only to stop short when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. He blinked once, and then twice to make sure it was really you. And by that point, security couldn’t even stop him as he shrugged his guitar off and shoved it into the hands of whoever was closest to him before he hopped off the stage and made a beeline towards you. 

The crowd was going wild as they watched him, the cameras were capturing every moment but you couldn’t care less as Sirius made his way to the barricade, grabbing your face and smashing his lips against yours. It was sloppy, messy and a little desperate, and probably far too much with so many eyes on you but Sirius never really cared about any of that stuff anyways.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, love,” Sirius murmured before he leaned in for another kiss and another and another. And when that wasn’t enough, he all but dragged you over the barricade, grinning wildly when you clung onto him.

“Sirius!” you gasped, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands rested on your ass.

“God, I missed hearing you scream my name,” he muttered, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he watched you flush at his comment.

“You have a show to perform,” you murmured, nodding your head towards the stage. “I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t,” Sirius told you. “C’mon, let’s go back to the tour bus—”

“Sirius,” you laughed, though there was a hint of warning in your voice which he recognised. “Show first, then sex.”

Sirius grinned cheekily. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” you smiled, leaning down and he pouted his expecting another kiss, only for your lips to brush against his ear instead. “Plus, I want us to have all the time in the world when you see the little surprise I got for you.”

Sirius gulped. “Surprise?” 

“Got ‘em done just before you left,” you told him and his spine straightened in realisation. “Should be healed enough for you to play with them.”

“Show me.”

“Sirius—”

“Baby, show me or so help me, I will lose my mind,” Sirius groaned. 

But you just laughed, patting his cheek as you told him there wasn’t a chance in the world you were going to flash your tits in front of everyone. He groaned as you began untangling yourself from him, making your way backstage where you would watch the rest of the show. Sirius glared at you and your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

“Good luck, baby! Knock ‘em dead!” 

.

[rusalka52]

marauders 70s-80s music headcanons

+complimentary playlist

cw: fluff, a bit of angst for Remus but that’s expected

1.8k words

A/N: I like 70s-80s music, I like the marauders, why not mix the two? I’ve noted a few bands that the boys would like plus their favourite songs (that I’ve linked to youtube so you can go listen to them) and a small short story regarding their favourite band. The songs on the Spotify playlist range from the 1960s’ to before October 1981 so they’re all canon accurate. Hope you guys enjoy this while I write part 3 to Tell me I’m pretty !!!

Sirius:

-Favourite musicians: he’s the world's biggest poser I'm so sorry to say this. Sex Pistols, Queen, the Ramones, David Bowie, the Cure, Talking Heads, the Clash. He’s a massive Queen fan too. He had an orgasmic reaction when he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” for the first time, but let’s be honest who didn’t?

-Favourite songs: “Bodies” by the Sex Pistols because it says the word ‘fuck’ a lot and it bothers Walburga. He also loves “I wanna be your dog” by the Stooges because he thinks he’s funny.

-He might be a poser but he’s MY poser. It’s the 31st of August 1977, the last day before the start of his seventh year and coincidentally the last day of the Sex Pistol’s secret tour of the UK. And Sirius was not about to miss it. Before leaving for Plymouth, where the gig was, he made sure to pack his trunk and ensure that James would bring it safely to King’s Cross station the next day and they would meet on platform 93/4. The gig was amazing, exhilarating and the alcohol was definitely flowing. Everything was going as smoothly as it could for a punk concert until the next morning. When Sirius opened his eyes he was greeted by the bright blue English sky, the shining sun and a sharp pain in his lower back. After checking his surroundings he intelligently deduced that he had gotten so drunk he passed out in the middle of a field. Panic starts to set in as he checks his watch and notices that he only has one hour to get to London before the train leaves him behind. Once he finally manages to stand up, ignoring the throbbing headache and the increasing feeling that he’s going to vomit everything he’s consumed the entire summer, he starts rummaging through his backpack praying to any entity that will listen that he did not lose his wand. Luck seemed to be on his side as he still had the wand neatly secured in his bag. He quickly apparates to King’s Cross station and after throwing up for 20 minutes in the bathroom and spending another 10 washing his face and making sure his hair looks sexy and rugged he finally meets the rest of the Marauders in their usual carriage at 10:58 am, 2 minutes before the train is set to leave. His clothes look and smell like actual shit but he doesn’t care, thinks it makes him look more #punk #rock #anarchy. God, I cannot stand him (/affectionately)

~

James:

-Favourite musicians: a bit more old fashioned when it comes to music, big fan of the Beatles, the Doors, the Kinks, Queen, and Nico and the Velvet Underground because they’re Effie’s favourites.

-Favourite song: “Sunny Afternoon” by the Kinks. No further comment. Hums it during class, quidditch practice, while he studies, while getting ready. The rest of the guys cannot stand him anymore, he drives them mad with the constant humming. Lily learns to tolerate it after they get married and little Harry always giggles whenever he hears it.

-One of his earliest childhood memories involves the singer Nico. Being an only child he used to spend hours every day with his mother, Effie, while his father was at work; once he comes back home they practice Quidditch in the back garden of course, little James flying on his practice broom and catching any quaffles Fleamont tosses his way. One Tuesday morning like any other Effie was making pancakes for James (the blueberries positioned in such a way that they formed a smiley face on the plate -the only way that James would even consider eating his fruit). James was sat on one of the kitchen counters drinking some apple juice and watching his mother cook while some muggle song played in the background. She loved to listen to the radio and hum and groove along to whatever song was playing while busy with chores around the house -truly how did those contraptions even work? How were there so many little singers stuck in the small box? Little James would wonder constantly. No matter how many times his father explained electromagnetic waves and radio signals to the 7 year old he would always remain baffled. “Oh dear, I simply adore this song! Come! We must dance!” His mother exclaimed as the radio show host announced the next song: “These Days” by Nico. Effie turns the stovetop off, turns up the volume on the radio and picks up James. As Nico’s melodic voice fills the kitchen, once she starts singing the first verse, Effie hums along, holding James tightly in her arms. After a few seconds she puts him down from her embrace -he is a growing boy after all!- and grabs his small hands twirling him around while he cannot stop giggling. If anyone asks James what happy memory he picked attempting to conjure a corporeal patronus he would talk about that one time in third year when “his Lily-flower” smiled at him, or the Gryffindor Quidditch team’s victory against the Slytherins in their second year, but deep down James knows that him and his mother dancing together in their kitchen when he was 7 is the only memory that will never fail to make him smile.

~

Remus:

-Favourite musicians: Joy Division, David Bowie, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Jefferson Airplane, the Clash and post 1981 the Smiths

-Favourite songs: “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon, another jokester like Sirius. He also loves “Queen Bitch” and “Moonage Daydream” by David Bowie. Post ‘81 “I want the one I can’t have” by the Smiths

-Remus was ready to spend the summer holidays of their 3rd year alone. He heard James mention on the train carriage on the way back something about his family spending the summer in Spain, Sirius had written to him saying that he was grounded for the whole month because his mother caught him smoking cigarettes and Peter, he had no clue where that boy disappeared off to. That was until one hot August morning when he heard an owl scratching at his window. Not just any owl, the Pettigrew’s owl! He immediately opened the window letting the clumsy small bird inside. The brown barn owl -her name was Marjorie he was pretty sure- upon seeing the food in Remus’ hand releases the letter from her beak, snacks on some owl treats and immediately flies off. Remus chuckles at the animal and opens the letter which obviously came from Peter seeing as it was written in his chicken scratch handwriting and complete with spelling mistakes.

“Dearest Mooney,

Mummy asked me to invite my freinds over for a sleepover. James is in Spain and Sirius is still grounded. Do you want to come over? 3pm on Monday!! Cant wait to sea you! We can eat snacks and watch films and listen to that new record your mum got you for Chrismas that you've been raving about all year!

I look fourward to seeing you!

Chat later, Pete :D

P.S. sorry if Margie bites, i am still training her…”

Remus instantly got excited when he read the letter and got to writing his response straight away, obviously accepting the invitation to the sleepover (not like he had anything else to do). He truly could not wait to show Peter the Hunky Dory vinyl he got. He immediately packed it in his bag ready to show it off.

Monday finally arrived and the two boys met up, went to buy muggle sweets from the corner store first, and then they walked around town for a bit trying to decide which board game to play; they landed on “Battleship” and that was the first thing they did upon entering Pete’s room. “Hey, Wormtail, can I show you the vinyl now?” Remus asks meekly after the second round of their game ended. “My goodness, Rem! Yes of course, I nearly forgot! Come, follow me to the living room, that's where the record player is!” The two boys sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company, the voice of David Bowie serenading their peaceful moment, which was intermittently interrupted by Peter’s mother offering them cookies or cake or tea or juice. The night ended with the boys quietly sitting in the same living room while a 1 am showing of “The Exorcist” played on the tv screen. The pair ran up to Peter’s room terrified and hid under the covers within 35 minutes of the start of the film.

~

Peter:

-Favourite musicians: ABBA, Blondie, the Beatles and Jefferson Airplane. But mainly ABBA. Has been watching the eurovision song contest every year with his mum. From start to finish, even the semi-finals. He complains about the winners every time, except in ‘74 when ABBA won.

-Favourite songs: all of ABBA’s discography. He truly can’t pick only one favourite. Rip Peter Perrigrew you would have LOVED Mamma Mia! (2008)

-Massive Blondie fan as well and no shame about it. The Potters were hosting the 1978 Halloween party and everyone HAD to show up in costumes otherwise they wouldn’t be welcome. Remus went as David Bowie with the lightning bolt drawn on his face, Sirius thought that a werewolf costume would be the funniest thing in the world, the newlyweds decided on a couple’s costume, James went as Danny and Lily went as Sandy from the film Grease that had come out over the summer. Peter had no idea what to go as. He was between dressing up as either a rat, which could be funny to the people who knew about his animagus form, but really lazy to outsiders, or something classic like vampire or zombie. He was racking his brain trying to come up with something, looking around his messy flat in case inspiration struck when suddenly out of the corner of his eyes he spots Blondie’s new album cover, “Parallel Lines”. Oh, he knew what he had to do.

Usually Peter was one of the first guests to arrive at any party he was invited to, helping the host set the table, fixing any decorations etc. but not this time. This party Peter decided to be “fashionably-late, darling”, as Sirius would put it, a fact that surprised everyone. No one at the party expected the meek and timid Peter Pettigrew to show up in a white mid thigh length dress, matching open-toed heels, a white ribbon around his upper arm, white pearls, courtesy of his loving but slightly confused mother, topped off with a blonde and black wig. James was quick to snap a picture of the moment, calling Peter affectionately “Debbie Harry’s fat cousin.”

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day five

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff, flirting, drinking, everyone gets a kiss

length : 4.2k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3

a/n : here we go!! enjoy and feel free to comment, ask, reblog 💗

•••

day five

Something about the check-in at the hotel in Manchester was fishy and had caused a ridiculous amount of chaos that needed to be sorted out by the tour managers. I made the best of the situation and got comfortable in the lobby with my laptop, determined to get some work done ahead of time. Lia was going to be here in just a few hours and I'd promised her to free my schedule as much as possible.

Plus, I knew we would be drinking, so the ride to Glasgow tomorrow was going to be spent regretting my hangover and lying in my bunk, not doing hours of work.

The only strange thing about the day so far was that I had seen neither Oli nor Noah. Noah’s absence was to be expected to a certain extent; he was in a different band, on a different bus, with slightly deviating schedules, so the chances of running into each other could be quite low. I hadn't gotten a message from him either though. At least rumour had been going around that he woke up as good as new this morning, whatever had been beating him down yesterday had vanished completely. Oli was more surprising considering he was consistently put into an adjacent hotel room, travelled in the same tour bus and technically employed me.

Funnily enough, the question about the two missing frontmen was answered sooner than the check-in chaos got resolved. I heard the two of them entering the lobby together before I saw them. Pushing each other away, both seemed eager to get to me first as soon as they spotted me, stealing a bag from each other's hands over and over again.

“Fucking stop, I’m the one who knew to get this for her,” Oli complained, trying to keep the paper bag out of Noah’s reach, who was quicker than him and caught it behind Oli’s back.

“Yeah, and I’m the one who’s gonna give it to her!”

“Give it back, you wanker!”

Their fight came to an abrupt end as they stood in front of me looking up at them over my laptop.

“I got you something,” Oli explained, motioning to the bag.

“We got you something,” Noah corrected.

“Just because you walked next to me, doesn’t mean you had anything to do with it!”

I felt another bout of their little spat coming on, so I quickly intervened and stole the bag from Noah’s hands. Both of them quieted down immediately, watching me as I opened it up. The sweet scent of pastries filled my nostrils immediately.

“Are these��?” I didn’t finish my question as I brought the baked good to my nose, inhaling it deeply once again before taking a hearty bite ouf of its flakey goodness. I didn't know how Oli new. I couldn't remember if I'd ever told him and if I had, I was sure it was in passing only. The fact that he not only was aware of my sweet tooth but also went out of his way to satisfy it with my favourite goods caused my stomach to flip. “Thank you so much, that’s so sweet.”

“From your favourite bakery,” Oli proudly agreed. “You said you weren’t in Manchester that often and- well, I thought after yesterday-”

“Wait, what happened yesterday?”

Suddenly, Noah was all ears. I was much too preoccupied with the best thing I’d tasted in months to think about how to explain. Oli had mentioned it, Oli could solve the situation.

“Aubrey was in a right mood last night,” Oli said with grin. “A little brat.”

I almost choked on my pastry, a few flakes flying away from me as I got my breathing back under control. I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Oli was hardly known for being a prude about these things.

“And I went to sleep instead,” Noah groaned, sounding genuinely remorseful. Our eyes met for a moment. Somehow, I knew we were both remembering last night, too, me bringing him back to the hotel room, him warning me off. He looked away first, as if a little embarrassed. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“I’m sure you’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” it burst out of me. But I’d already learned that the combination of us three left very little room to hold back in that aspect.

Oli leaned down to me, his thumb wiping at the corner of my mouth where some chocolate had seemingly gotten stuck. He tapped my lips. It was enough for me to dumbly open my mouth and suck it in, twirling my tongue around it to get another taste. He chuckled darkly, satisfied how easily I went along with him, before pulling away, finding another bit of chocolate to swipe away, this time offering his thumb to Noah.

He was torn. Quite visibly so. The tension hung in the air as he tried to decide on which move to make now, all three of us basically holding our breaths to see what would transpire.

Then, some loud laughter from the crew erupted somewhere else in the lobby, loud enough to pull him out of it. He actually shook his head, as if that could make the thoughts disappear.

“Fuck you, Oli,” he muttered, without much force behind it.

“Yeah,” Oli laughed, licking the chocolate of his thumb himself, “I bet you’d like to.”

•••

Whoever said that time flies when you’re having fun had never felt time slipping through your fingers when you were desperately trying to get your boss to get to all things in his agenda on time while he was being an absolute arse for no reason but to amuse himself. On top of that, your best friend was blowing up your phone in excitement of getting to see you, effectively starting a countdown that only served to distract you from the work you should be doing.

By seven o’clock, I was thoroughly exhausted and annoyed. At some point, Noah had even pulled me aside to give me a much needed hug, although it had been cut short by Lia announcing her imminent arrival. Luckily, Lia did what she did best and that was raise my mood impossibly the very second I saw her.

Her arms around me felt like home. She was the only anchor I felt I still had, while I was always trying to never get too settled in one place with my work taking me all over, but we’d been friends since childhood and she’d always refused to budge. I didn’t thank her for it enough.

“Okay, catch me up asap, what’s been happening, what’s been going down, have you managed to bang anyone yet?”

I shot an apologetic smile at the two stagehands walking past as I walked down the corridor with Lia, an AAA pass hung around her neck and so excited that I wondered if she’d had a drink before coming here. With a slightly quicker step, I dragged her into Oli’s dressing room, aware he was currently hanging out with the rest of his band.

“Well, there’s been no fucking, but…”

I awkwardly started tidying up the dressing room. It came as second nature, really, trying to make sure things were in order, helping Oli out for later, not letting him drown in his chaos. I busied myself with a hoodie that I decided needed folding.

“But?! Aubrey, you’re not seriously gonna leave me starved for information here!”

“I mean, I did make out with Noah and I’ve seen Oli’s dick, so…”

Her squealing, I was pretty sure, could be heard next door and I couldn’t help but laugh. Lia was nothing if not supportive of basically anything I did.

I gave her a quick rundown of the last few days, keeping some of the details to myself while still letting her know what I’d been up to, including just about every endeavour I’d found myself in with the guys. She did nothing short of react appropriately, aw-ing and ooh-in and gasping and laughing. I’d missed having her around.

In the middle of me letting Lia know that, yes, I most definitely got cleaned up after last night’s escapade and, no, Oli and I hadn’t spoken about it yet and also, no, I didn’t think Noah knew, when the door to the dressing room flew open and revealed Oli himself.

“Speak of the devil,” Lia mused and I briefly panicked about her letting Oli know just what we were talking about, even though I knew fully well she would never betray me like that.

“I could say the same about you,” Oli replied, attempting to sound cruel but unable to hide the smile on his face.

“Why on earth would you have been talking about me?”

“Oh, I wasn’t. I was referring to the part where you are the devil.”

“Oh, you bastard!” Lia exclaimed with a laugh. “You coming out with us after the show?”

“Hell no. We got an early bus call and a four-hour drive to Glasgow. And I know what you get up to, Lia.”

My heart sank a little, even though I knew Oli was only being reasonable. We did only have a few hours in the hotel before we needed to get going again. I was going to be fine, really - I planned on not getting blackout drunk and there wasn’t too much left for me to do tomorrow that I hadn’t already taken care of. Plus, I wasn’t the one who had to be up on stage that night delivering the show of their life.

“Fucking party pooper.”

“I’m so much of a party pooper that I specifically came to get you two because Bad Omens are about to start. Managed to organise some wine for you too. Good enough?”

“Just about,” Lia mused, standing up and walking past him and out of the room with the confidence only someone who had on idea which way the stage was could have. We both looked at her leave, overly amused, until I remembered she was my friend and I should probably make sure she wouldn’t get completely lost.

Oli stopped me at the door. “You gonna stop by when you get back tonight?”

“I could just text you that I got back safe, you know. It might get late.”

He slung his arm around my waist, pulling me into a side hug, a telling smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll gladly wake up for you.”

•••

I wasn’t quite sure how we ended up in Oli’s suite - a suite! Motherfucker had a suite all to himself! - playing questionable drinking games (Truth or dare? Never have I ever? 21 questions? Honestly, it was hard to tell at this point) way past midnight and maybe it was because I was a little intoxicated - not drunk, I was still aware I had a bus ride in just a few hours - but I was tipsy enough not to question it just yet.

The evening had gone something like this: Oli had, in fact, organised two bottles of wine and exclusive seats for us during the show. Lia was blown away by Bad Omens and the way Noah sang and how she couldn’t blame me at all for crushing on him. Then, Lia followed it up by being blown away by Bring Me The Horizon and their production and the Oli’s stage presence and the fact that I had somehow not banged him yet. Especially when he effectively climbed his videographer. Didn't help with the thoughts in my head either. Both of those bottles were killed by the time the show was over.

We had briefly ventured out to Lia’s favourite bar for a few shots, but had quickly realised that talking about Oli and Noah in a crowded place full of people who had just left the very concert they had performed at, wasn’t the wisest decision. So, with some more alcohol in tow, Lia had stolen my phone and texted the two men and somehow, somehow convinced them to join us for a little afterparty. Now all of us were feeling the buzz and going along with Lia’s questionable ideas.

“Worst place you’ve ever vomited?”

“Just about every single time it happened on stage, and love, it happened,” Oli laughed. Those had been the bad times. I didn’t miss them at all. I’d trade them for this version of Oli, happy, healthy, optimistic, flirty, bloody gorgeous any day.

“Alright. No need to get into that. Noah, empty your wallet and show everyone what’s inside.”

Noah didn’t hesitate, grabbing the item from the back pocket of his trousers and emptying its contents. There wasn’t too much interesting stuff in there - ID, a credit card, some loose change in more than one currency. Lia grabbed onto the condom wrappers immediately. Three of them.

“Ultra thin, extra lube, ribbed,” she read aloud. “Damn, someone knows how to treat their partners.”

Noah blushed a little under the redness that the alcohol had already flushed his cheeks with. I was pretty sure I did the same, my mind running away with thoughts. This was good. He quickly gathered them up again and stowed them away but I didn’t think he missed the way Oli raised his eyebrows at him. Surprise enough that he didn’t say anything.

“Aubrey, who would you like to kiss in this room?”

“Who wouldn’t I like to kiss!” I giggled, taking another sip of wine, even though it was starting to get to my head. Obviously.

“Well, me, hopefully, or you’ll have to deal with my wife,” Lia laughed, holding up the wedding ring on her finger. “Anyway. What caused your last relationship to break down?”

She didn’t aim the question at anyone in particular, but Noah, sweet, closed-off Noah, suddenly had an intense urge to answer.

“What didn't,” he groaned, throwing his had back and cradling the bottle in his hands. “Touring, the distance, the groupies that don’t exist, the missed phone calls, the not being enough.” He threw his hands in the air in defeat. I thought it was the most he had revealed about himself, like, ever. “And here comes the kicker. I was talking about proposing to her with the guys and looking up rings the very morning of the day she broke up with me.”

Silence engulfed us. A comment from Folio, just a few days ago, and Noah’s very unamused answer was whirling in my head, but I was too intoxicated to make perfect sense of it right now. I just knew there was a connection.

I didn’t know if telling him I was sorry would cut it. Bit of a big deal, really, finding someone to marry who drops you like that. What do you say to that? Luckily, good old Oli jumped in pretty much immediately.

“Emotionally unavailable and obsessed with myself,” he said. “Pretty sure that’s a direct quote, too. Probably not too wrong about it either.”

Apparently we were sharing break-up stories now. My turn, I decided.

“Told her that, very theoretically, mind, I would be open to polyarmory. Because, you know, I definitely think you can be in love with more than one person. And if everyone’s happy, I’m sure there’s something great about relationships that aren’t just two people. Well,” I mused, throwing back another sip of wine to keep myself going, spilling a little on my top, “all she heard was ‘this is an open relationship without any rules now’ and went and banged someone else the next day.”

The three of us looked each other, throwing pitiful looks around, realising we were all pretty fucked up in our own ways, and suddenly broke out laughing. It almost took my breath away, the intensity of the relief of sharing these little things with people so dear to me, letting them understand me a little better, understanding them a little better in return and oh god more wine on me. These jeans would have to go straight into the washing.

“Enough tearjerker stories,” Lia announced, but there was no malice in her words. “Let’s get back to the fun questions! Worst sex experience! Oli, please, I want to hear yours.”

“Alright, first one that comes to mind right now, couple of years ago, right, I hook up with this girl, all fun and games, but it’s very fucking tame, you know? And out of nowhere she just fucking chokes me. I’m not saying I don’t like it, but that proper came out of fucking nowhere. Like. Normally, you’d ease up to it, if you hadn’t talked about it.”

Suddenly, Oli seemed to be sitting much closer to Noah than before. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination. Or the light.

“You’d have your hands on them somewhere,” Oli explained, drawing out his words, as his hand landed on Noah’s chest. He was caught off guard for a moment, but silently allowed the moment to play out. “Slowly move them up, see if they enjoy it.” 

Oli followed through. Noah was definitely enjoying it. I was transfixed on the display in front of me.

 “Get a little skin-on-skin contact.”

His fingers were tracing the line where Noah’s shirt ended, just letting his fingertips play with the hem a little. I’d never seen Oli so gentle, but it was doing things to my body. Noah’s breathing was speeding up now, chest heaving, unable to keep it hidden. I couldn’t blame him at all.

“See how they react to your hand being closer to their throat.”

Oli’s hand moved higher, carefully stroking the skin at Noah’s neck. Noah swallowed, hard, his eyelids fluttering shut. It was as if he was loosing all control over his bodily reactions. It was intoxicating to watch.

“And maybe, you know, if they don’t move away or move your hand, you can give it a try.”

And Oli did. Wrapping his hand around Noah’s throat and squeezing a little. Just the slightest bit. Just the possibility of more. And Noah moaned.

“And that’s my cue to get myself on an uber home!” Lia declared loudly, standing up and just about catching the wine bottle that had been in her lap before it toppled over onto the carpet. She was swaying a little, quite obviously the most drunk out of the four of us and I quickly made the executive decision to accompany her downstairs and wait with her. Oli gave me a nod, a satisfied smirk on his face. Noah didn’t look at me at all, but he seemed to be questioning all his life choices.

“Girl! What’s going on between the two of them? I knew you were developing… something with both of them, you didn’t tell me about the two of them with each other!”

I awkwardly fumbled with Oli’s room key as we descended on the lift. “I don’t think they know either.”

“But, do you mind?”

I looked at her, thoughtful for a moment, almost missing the time frame to leave the lift as it arrived in the lobby. Did I mind?

“No,” I answered, without giving it any further thought, just knowing. “No, I really don’t.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Lia giggled, giving me a hug so enthusiastically it almost toppled us over. “Now go, go and get them together and then get them both for yourself.”

•••

I didn’t knock when I used the key card to get back into Oli’s room. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I was going to be back - not only had I actively snatched the card from the desk but I had also left all my stuff in there. Still, none of us had seen the situation coming, apparently.

The first thing I saw when I entered the room was that neither Oli nor Noah were still sitting on the couch. The second thing I saw was that Oli had pressed Noah against the wall instead.

They didn’t notice me immediately, too caught up in their own world as Oli frantically pressed his lips to Noah’s. Entangled as if they simply couldn’t get close enough, one of Oli’s hands was in Noah’s hair, keeping him in place, keeping him complacent, the other running up the outside of his thigh, as Noah was pawing at Oli’s back, as if not sure what his hands were looking for, but trying all the same. My heart fluttered with… love? The door falling shut behind me caught their attention.

They didn’t jump apart. In fact, their hands were still exactly where they had left them. But both of them had turned their heads so fast it looked painful.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I grinned. “I’m very much enjoying this.”

Noah was visibly shaken up and out of breath and I wondered if that was what happened to people who got to kiss Oli Sykes, but Oli himself was in the best of moods.

“See, I heard that you went and kissed our Noah here,” he explained, slowly detaching himself from him. Noah’s body almost followed on its own account, seemingly not having enough of the other man just yet. “And I got really, really jealous. But now I’m realising that means he got to kiss you, too.”

“There’s really no need to be jealous, at all,” I replied, letting him come closer and closer, just to push him back onto the couch. Straddling his lap, my thighs on either side of his, was a logical conclusion. “You can kiss me anytime.”

There was a hint of hesitation. Something familiar in his eyes, something like home. A decade-long friendship that was begging to be ruined. I knew he saw the same in me. We’d done things with each other, things to each other, that went beyond any regular friendship. But this moment, this temptation of finally getting his mouth on mine, a kiss, felt like it weighed so much more heavily on both of us.

His hands landed on my thighs, moving up to the small of my back, giving me security and safety and all rationality be damned, I leaned down and allowed my lips to touch his.

A shockwave travelled through every inch of my being, then the tension evaporated, as if this was where I'd always meant to be. Oli was soft and pliant under me, a stark contrast to how he usually presented himself, to how he usually behaved around me even, but I indulged in the feeling, grabbing onto his arms to make them wrap around me, letting him hold me close, tightly. I couldn't stop my own hands from tracing along his torso, his neck, his face, silently mapping his body in a way I had never been allowed to before. When his tongue licked against my lips, I let him in.

The kiss became more frantic as I lost all self-control. Years and years of unfulfilled desires poured into us as I pressed myself into him. Oli tasted sweet, so much sweeter than expected, even with the beer still lingering. I could feel myself falling, deeper and deeper, like a feral animal willingly setting foot into a trap, the temptation of the bait calling too loudly to ignore.

I noticed the couch dip before my brain realised Noah was next to us. Then his hand was at the back of my head, gripping my hair and pulling me off Oli. Instantly, he had me turned toward him, Oli’s hands still on me, my body still on his lap, but now my lips were crashing into Noah’s. It was electrifying, his frantic kiss, how his lust must have built as he watched us. Oli’s mouth now at my neck, licking along my tendon, finishing it off with a soft bite.

Noah swallowed my moans easily, still holding me in place, still roughly moving my head to his own wishes. Oli was grinding up into me, his hard dick against my core making me squirm even through the layers, thoughts of what it had looked like, what he had looked like overwhelming my mind. When Noah let go of me it felt so sudden that I almost lost my balance, hands trying to find the couch table behind me as a way to steady myself. The dull noise of a bottle hitting the carpeted floor had all three of us halt in our movements.

The wine ended up on the carpet after all, like a bad metaphor for whatever the three of us had just started and might be unable to stop.

I got up from Oli’s lap, Noah also standing up as if he suddenly didn’t know where he was supposed to be anymore. The awkwardness in the room was tangible, the lines we had just crossed almost becoming visible in my mind as my tipsy brain struggled to make sense of the consequences.

When Noah and I announced our separate departures, Oli didn’t say a word, still staring at the dark red colour seeping into the plush beneath his feet. Both of us went in opposite directions in the hallway. I didn’t know if that was supposed to be a metaphor too.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Wasting Love, Kirk Hammett

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Angst, bittersweet pining

Word count: 4269

Tw: mention of sex, groupies, that rockstar life™ etc. You also kind of sleep around so maybe kind of OOC to you, but the whole song is about one night stands and sex that doesn’t involve feelings, so cry about it <3 For a fic about sex, it sure lacks actual sex and smut. This is just angst revolving around sex, so I’m sorry to my horny readers :( Mentions of drugs/being drugged (doesn’t happen in the story, but it gets mentioned) and use of alcohol. Swearing, Luna’s favourite swear word fuck <3

Summary: Touring with Metallica brought unnecessary talks about groupies and their nights spent together. And it shouldn’t have bothered you, had you not been head over heels for Kirk. When you see him sneaking out of an hotel room one night, you finally break.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Maybe one day I'll be an honest man. Up 'til now I'm doing the best I can.”

There were so many great things about touring with Metallica: you saw a little bit of the world, met many amazing fans, had fun company and you didn’t have to pay for much. It did come as a plus that you had known James as long as you had. He had, after all, been the one who had managed to get you to be the one to tune the guitars, basses and make sure their amplifiers were working correctly. It was a job that technically only had to be done 2 to 3 hours before the band had to go up on stage, so there was plenty of time for you to enjoy your time in a new city.

The single awful thing about travelling with Metallica: learning a lot more about their private life than you would have actually liked. It was no secret that rockstars had their local groupies, but the time spent with them would continue to baffle you. The worst part of it all were the ineffable feelings that had begun to grow towards a certain guitarist. You didn’t know if he was oblivious or did it out of spite (which would have been way worse), but each time you couldn’t come on the bus or knock on hotel doors because of… well, activities, your heart broke a little bit more.

You should have anticipated this from the start. James had kindly warned you about it, which had been an awkward conversation at first, but you truly thought you could handle it. But when they weren’t busy, they were talking about their nights, bragging about it as if you weren’t sitting right there. What hadn’t helped the situation was that James knew about your whole situation, so the usual comments he’d throw towards his band members had lessened significantly. Especially when Kirk had something to throw in.

“Long roads, long days. Of sunrise to sunset, of sunrise to sunset.”

You had been good friends with all of them for years, so they never really considered you as an outsider to their conversations. Initially, it had led to great talks, but now all they really brought was sorrow. And Kirk seemed perfectly happy in his situation, often talking about how this was so much better than a relationship, because no feelings could be hurt. After that, you could never really find it in yourself to find a move on him.

So, you let yourself get caught up in their lives too. After all, with the involvement the band gave you, many fans had laid their eyes on you as well. If they could find their joy and liberty in sex, you might as well. No feelings attached, just brief hook-ups and nights spent in other hotel rooms. You didn’t know what hurt most: the fact you found little relief in it, or the fact no one seemed bothered you had been sleeping around. When you casually mentioned it once, the band seemed to almost cheer for you, claiming it was good that you found some pleasure as well. You had hoped for that slight shift in Kirk’s posture, or a tiny twitch in his eyes, but nothing.

James hadn’t talked with you about it. He just figured you had moved on. In all honesty, he was too busy as well to properly have a conversation about emotions, actions and feelings. You didn’t want to burst his bubble.

“Dream on, brothers, while you can. Dream on, sisters, I hope you find the one.”

Thus, you continued the tour as you usually did. Some days you’d hang out with the band, other days you’d discover cities on your own. Besides your pining, you and Kirk had been close friends as well, so it wasn’t unusual for you to go to bars together or explore backstreets with just the two of you. But the longer the tour wore on, the more uncomfortable it had gotten. Ever since you had shared your experiences, it seemed to only fuel their… private talks. None showed shame in it, and none noticed that that fake laugh you had been putting up was getting weaker by the day.

You didn’t know how many weeks you had been on tour now or how many shows had been played. You didn’t even really know in which city you were, nor who was the name of the person in the bed next to you. When you had gotten changed and realised they were still sleeping, you couldn’t even tell what time it had been.

You had stumbled out of the unknown hotel room, hair messy and clothes lazily thrown on. It wasn’t as if you were going to run into anyone important during this hour. Except, it did.

By the time you rounded the corner, you found Kirk sneaking out of another room, seemingly in a similar state to what you had been in. Your heart shattered all over again at the sight, but you swallowed it down. When he noticed you, he fumbled with his pants, giving you a goofy grin and a short wave. You hadn’t even noticed you had frozen, your eyes glued on the red marks on his neck. However, you snapped out of it quickly, copying his wave before walking the other way. You couldn’t recall where your room was. You didn’t really want to find it now. Somehow, that sheer sight managed to get you more worked up than it should have.

“All of our lives, covered up quickly. By the tides of time.”

The elevator took too long to reach your floor, so you opted for the stairs after waiting for a full five seconds. All you really wanted to do right now is find a secluded space where you could just sink to the ground and cry. For a really long time.

The only logical place in your head ran to the lobby downstairs. They would have enough bathroom stalls for you to simply collapse there and have a good crying session. When you were done, you could recollect your thoughts. The idea of it sounded so nice. However, by the time you came downstairs, you were simply too exhausted to do anything else but collapse on the nearest chair and just stare blankly at the wall. It was still dark outside, the only thing illuminating the streets being the streetlights and occasional cars. You only saw them from the corner of your eyes, your head still straight towards the empty green wall in front of you.

You could have sat there for hours, and you wouldn’t have known. It probably wasn’t. When you were done staring, you spotted a clock, seeing the pointers on two and six. You didn’t reach the hotel until one, so you couldn’t have sat there for hours. It felt like it, though.

You didn’t want to move. Not really. You just felt incredibly numb now. You should have just mentioned everything at the beginning. You shouldn’t have been such a pussy and should have made a move years ago. You shouldn’t have joined this tour. You could have known this going into it. It was a mistake. This was terrible.

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

In a fit of frustration, you throw the heels in your hands across the room, sick and tired of holding them the entire time. You watched as they bounced on the floor, before coming to halt in an almost cinematic shot. When they stilled, your hands balled up into fists. These heels were gorgeous to look at. You remembered picking them out this night. They went perfect with your outfit and simply looked stunning. You remembered the reason why you had put them on: you were going to a bar with the band. And you looked breathtaking. These were the heels that seemed to ooze sex and ask for attention. Of course these had to be the heels you had worn for him. He had told you how much he loved them when starting the tour. When unpacking your wardrobe, he had casually wandered in and went through your shoes, and these were the ones special enough for him to mention. You had worn them for him. And he left with some chick, leaving you wallowing in self pity in the bed of a stranger.

Fuck those heels.

You couldn’t even properly formulate why it had devastated you as much as it had. He didn’t seem interested in you, so you began to pick up on his lifestyle. You hadn’t even done it in an effort to make him jealous or glue his eyes to you - no; you simply needed the distraction from him. And you were so convinced you were going to find it in the bed of another, but you didn’t.

All his stupid fault. No one told him he had to be so damn desirable and kind. In all truth, you were convinced he couldn’t even see how much it bothered you. You couldn’t tell if that made him a bad friend, or you a bad friend. Probably both. All you knew was that, if it wasn’t for him, you’d be perfectly happy where you were.

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

The longer you remained stuck on your own thoughts, the harder it became to suppress the huge lump in your throat. The urge to cry resurfaced, and you could have cursed yourself for getting so wound up for some guy.

The tears had already gathered in your eyes as you scanned the room, looking for anyone nearby. When you couldn’t find them, the first drop fell down. Resting your elbows on your knees, you leaned forward, sobbing into your hands, repeatedly muttering the word ‘stupid’.

All you really felt now was just anguish, pain, anger and embarrassment. A silent longing for home filled you as you mourned the comfort of your own bed, and the hugs of those you couldn’t take on tour with you. You could use a hug from anyone who had nothing to do with Metallica.

But fate wouldn’t have you sit there weeping on your own. During the tour, you had felt truly secluded when you needed company, but the one moment you simply wished to be alone, you wouldn’t be.

“Dream on, brothers, while you can. Dream on, sisters, I hope you find the one.”

You hadn’t heard him walking down the stairs nor had you heard the sound of the elevator, but you could feel his presence suddenly beside you. And his stupid cologne. That damn thing never seemed to wear off.

You looked up at him in a mixture of annoyance and sadness, holding your hands flat out, not trusting your voice to speak for you. His face softened as he noticed your tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, kneeling down to come eye level with you. The gesture made your heart flutter, even when you least wanted him to be there.

“What are you doing here?” He asked confused, though his voice was gentle all the same. You snorted unflatteringly, simply not caring for his opinion now. “Couldn’t find my room.” You shrugged, wiping stray tears off your face. Then, your eyes fell on your knees, refusing to meet his eyes.

Kirk was silent for a while, one of his hands resting on your thighs, the notion nearly lighting your skin on fire. “You okay?” He questioned, rubbing the skin soothingly. Successfully catching your attention, your eyes met his once more. When you didn’t answer him, he frowned, now looking at your face as if he was searching: “Did he drug you or something?”

Curse him to be concerned when you just wanted to shout at him. You didn’t have the energy to do it, though. He just needed to leave you alone. “No. I’m fine.” You answered, hoping it was enough to get him to leave.

It wasn’t.

“All of our lives, covered up quickly. By the tides of time.”

“You sure?” He went on, his hand leaving your thigh; a touch you didn’t know you would miss so soon. He forced a small smile, trying to lighten the situation: “I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t cry after sex.”

Yes, well, it didn’t lighten everything. It made it worse. The remark came as a dull stab in the heart to you, and you couldn’t suppress the hidden mumble under your breath. “Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

Thankfully, he didn’t catch that. And if he did, he didn’t respond to it. “I’m not drugged,” You assured him. “And I’m not drunk.” “You did drink a lot.” Kirk countered, though the humour had vanished from his face when you didn’t laugh at his remark. You’d always laugh at his words, even if they weren’t that funny. His words didn’t try to make fun of the situation anymore. It was genuine worry now.

“Trust me, it wore off.” You dismissed, running a hand through your hair as you forced yourself to sit upright. Kirk stood up as you did so, holding his hand out in front of him, ready to catch you if you were to fall. When you didn’t, he looked around before looking back at you: “I’m gonna get you something to drink,” Then, he pointed to your seat. “Stay here.”

He took off to the nearest vending machine, fishing for some loose change in his barely buttoned up pants. “Kirk, I’m fine.” You called after him, but he waved his hand in a dismissive manner, now typing in a number. You simply watched him do so, your face set in a scowl as you whispered a hushed ‘fuck you’.

“Sands are flowing and the lines are in your hand. In your eyes I see the hunger, and the desperate cry that tears the night.”

He returned with a bottle of water, handing it you as you begrudgingly opened it and began to drink. “You have room 403,” Kirk’s voice called as he sat down next to you. “You’re next to James, who has 405, and opposite of me: 402.” You just hummed at him, no longer interested to hold another conversation with him. You just wanted to curl up in a warm bed that wasn’t shared with anyone.

“That bad of a night, huh?” He commented as you gave him the half-finished bottle. “It’s not funny.” You deadpanned, doing your best to keep your breathing steady as you stood up. Again, Kirk tried to loosen the tension, though unsuccessfully: “Trust me, I know.” He stood up with you, his eyes still on your figure. You gave him a slight side-eye, shaking your head: “Yeah, I don’t think you do.”

Unsure of what to answer to that, he simply decided to follow you to the elevator. You didn’t speak to him during the short walk through the hall. You always talked with him. Any moment you could, really. It’s why he liked hanging around you so much. Even as you halted in front of the elevator doors, you said nothing.

“Are you alright?” Kirk tried again. “Like, really?” Inhaling sharply, you forced the newly formed tears back, the question cutting you so deeply, you had to do your best to not fall apart right there and right then. “Absolutely not.” You answered honestly, giving him a sarcastic grin before glueing your eyes on the pending floors above the elevator doors. Floor seven. It would take some time before it would get to the lobby.

Again, his hand found your skin, now softly settling on your shoulder. You now noticed he had carried your heels in his other hand, the shoes dangling from them in some sort of sick poetic way. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He went on, new words that pierced through you. But, once more, you forced yourself to keep it together, instead widening your eyes slightly as you spoke mocking words to yourself, aloud: “Oh, that couldn’t be further from the truth.” “That’s bullshit,” Kirk countered. “You can tell me anything.”

Turning around sharply, you pointed your finger at him, the gesture causing his grip to falter on you: “I don’t have to tell you jack shit.” Holding his hands up in defense, his eyebrows furrowed together. “What did I do?” “Nothing,” You replied quickly, unable to resist the slight choke in your voice as a stray tear slipped down your cheek. “You did absolutely nothing. You’re so fucking perfect, how could you ever do something wrong?”

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

The furrow in his eyebrows left, now slightly raised in concern:“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” A painful smile etched upon your face at that, speaking a little inside prayer of relief as the elevator doors finally opened. “Fuck you, Hammett.” You muttered, stepping into the cabin, reaching for the ‘close doors’ button. When they began to slide, Kirk’s hand quickly shot between them, forcing the doors back open: “No, wait.”

You tried your best to ignore him, a pounding headache already forming in agony. “Hey,” He spoke gently. “At least let me walk you to your room. I’m going that way, anyway.” “No offense, but I’d rather be alone now.” You denied, furiously rubbing the tear from your face. At the notion, you could see his expression change slightly. You didn’t want him to feel sorry feel you, but something in his eyes simply made you melt on the spot. “I don’t think that is a great idea.” He offered, holding out his hand again to stall the elevator. Now, annoyance came back into your system.

“Smell my breath, Kirk,” You spoke angrily, blowing breath his way. “There is no more liquor on my tongue. In fact, there are all kinds of things on my tongue now that I couldn’t even taste any alcohol even if I were to throw up. Some trust would look great on you.” “I trust you,” He persuaded, ignoring your innuendo as he stepped into the elevator. “Drunk or not, if you collapse onto the floor for whatever reason, I don’t like to leave you there.”

You crossed your arms at his words, slightly moved by it, but not enough to let all that anguish fade. “How romantic.” You mumbled sarcastically, watching him punch in the number to your floor. Maybe it was for the best he was so adamant on joining you. You didn’t know what floor your room was on.

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

Floor eleven. Your room was on floor eleven. The silence was deafening. You didn’t know what you preferred: his constant worrying or the space you were in right now. It was on floor three when you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Without any warning, a choked sob escaped you as new tears escaped your eyes. God, you hated being in the same elevator as him after finding him in the situation he was in only minutes ago. He was the one who could cheer you up, but at the moment, he was doing nothing but ruining you and he didn’t even know it.

Alerted by your sudden sobbing, he turned to face you. “Hey, it’s okay.” He tried to soothe, walking up to you as he pulled you into his arms. The action was enough to cause you to break down even more. It simply felt so right - so comfortable. “No, it’s not,” You wept into his shirt. “I don’t think it will be.” His hands found your back, rubbing soothing patterns onto it. You hated all of it. You hated how much you longed for it.

“You're worrying me now,” He spoke, his head resting atop yours as you gripped onto his shirt tightly. His heart had begun to sink as his head started to assume the worst case scenarios. What could have possibly happened that had shaken you up this much? There were enough things he could think of and none of them were pleasant. “What’s going on with you?”

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

You tried to calm yourself down, forcing you out of his hold as you stared at the ceiling, sniffling desperately. “Sleeping around is awful.” You confessed, a heavy sigh escaping your throat at the words, your eyes casting back down in front of you. Kirk hummed at your words, nodding in understanding: “Sometimes.” “No; all of the time,” You protested, rubbing your hands over your arms in anxiety. “It feels good for five seconds, if I even get that, and then it’s just humiliation and embarrassment.”

He didn’t know what to say about that. Sure, he has had terrible experiences, but he would be lying if he said he hated all of them. “I’m sorry,” He offered, feeling genuine remorse for you. You knew it was genuine. You knew him good enough to know when he was lying or not. And even though he was the main cause for your sadness, he was also one of your closest friends. And you needed someone to talk to: “I just want the distraction.”

You didn’t look at him as you said that, but you could feel his gaze change into that of remorse. The way he had looked at you earlier was in worry. Now, he just felt sorry for you. Both of them were appreciated. And they both amplified your emotions.

“I want to go home,” You finally sighed as the elevator reached the eleventh floor. “I can’t do this.” Stepping out of the cabin, you could hear Kirk halting for a second before he followed you. From here, it was easy to read the numbers. 388. 390. 392. You knew your room was close.

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

“Are you sure?” Kirk asked, his voice more quiet than it had been earlier. You didn’t know what to make of it. “No,” You answered honestly, grabbing the blank key card from your pocket as you reached door 403. “But the last past days have just been getting worse and worse, and I don’t think I can-“ Your voice hitched as you forced the sob down, now opening your door. You wanted to tell him. You needed to tell him. Even if he would hate it. And you were too caught up in your sadness to think straight now: “I don’t think I can spend another day watching you bang some chick and pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Moments of silence passed as you almost watched Kirk shut down. He didn’t move, he didn’t say anything. His expression didn’t change. There was nothing in his features that could make you decipher any sort of reaction to what you had just said. And it broke your heart into a million little pieces.

Grabbing your heels from his absent hands, you threw it in your hall, your expression softening: “It’s not your fault, Kirk,” You tried to reassure. “You’re famous, enjoy it. I hope you find someone some day.”

But, once more, there was nothing you could see on him that made loose any sort of reaction. You just nodded at him, a sorrowful smile forcing its way up: “We never had this conversation. Ignore me for all I care. I’m going home tomorrow.” And with that, you closed the door, leaving him out there. The second the securing of the lock was heard, you threw your head against the wall. In any scenario you had imagined yourself confessing to him, you would have never expected him to freeze. And somehow, that was the worst reaction.

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

Emotionlessly, you sauntered to the bed in the middle of the room, throwing your body onto it, no longer finding any energy to change or even just get your clothes off. Everything felt heavy. Your eyes were glued to the lights outside, unable to do anything but simply stare.

A hesitant knock brought you back to reality, followed by a muffled voice: “Don’t go tomorrow.” You didn’t have anything left in you that told you to cry at his voice. Perhaps that was for the best. Swallowing thickly, you filled the silence in the room: “Why?” Another beat of silence. This one longer than the previous one. “I’ll miss you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that leaving was definitely for the best. It was. “You can always call me.” You proposed weakly. You were so tired. So tired, yet not tired enough to sleep. Staring would have to do. “Would you answer?” You didn’t respond to that.

“Please, stay.” Once more, you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. It was almost as if your voice had simply failed on you. All you could really do was stare.“Just for one more day.”

When he realised he wasn’t getting an answer, he nodded, even though you couldn’t see his face. “Okay,” He tried to understand. Then, he grabbed the second key card to his room, leaning down to slide it under the door. You could hear the shuffling, and through the neon lights from outside, you could see the key card making its way into your hall. “In case you want to talk.” He offered. Another beat of silence, followed by a sigh you could hear from your bed.

“Goodnight.”

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

[moonchild-in-blue]

So I got pointed in your direction because I asked about the lore for Sleep Token. I'm a fan of the band and I know the basics (I think at least) but I was wondering if there was any more information now, like about Jerry or why the masks change. And besides from the jerks that caused Caramel to be crested. Such a beautiful song but the reason for it is one of the most frustrating. They want to stay anonymous, then let them do so. (Sorry for the mini rant. Privacy should be respected, all I'm saying)

Do you have a favorite song? My favorite still is probably Granite.

Hello there! You've come to the right place - I'm always happy to help a fellow Eepy Token with their questions 😌💙

So! About the masks - there's really not a deeper reason as to why the masks change. They have been doing so with each new era/album so to speak. Their costumes have been progressively become more intricate (especially Vessel's), and more visibly personalized to each member of the band - Espera included.

(photo creds on image description)

Just a fun little thing they do, matching the outfits to the current album/tour. We already know Vessel is green during this Arcadia era, so there's a chance we might see some changes in the other's costumes - maybe even a mask upgrade!

Let me plug here the Sleep Token Reference Archive - a comprehensive google drive archive created by @/a-s-levynn for all Sleep Token photo needs - no face jumpscares!

About Fuckass Ferry (how we refer to the Arcadia flamingo around these parts) - hell if I know 😭 Nobody really knows the reason behind the flamingo - there are some very good theories floating around tho, so you might wanna read them! This post in particular about the physiognomy of flamingos has been floating around in the Sleep Token circle. Interesting stuff! We're still all waiting to see more of Ferry and how he connects to the "lore", aside from being our de facto Feathered Host/ possible metaphor for Vessel himself (??).

#show me how to dance forever #smhtdf #even in arcadia #sleep token lore <- these tags should bring you some nice posts

Also, let me point you to this Sleep Token intro post - it's a bit outdated, but it gets the basics down! Plus there's a really good post about the band origins/story linked there - I advise everyone to read it!

If you have any more questions abou the lore, or any other Sleep Token related Q, don't hesitate to reach out! My asks are always open 💙

About Caramel... I've said everything I needed to say for now, and I'm refraining from engaging in more discourse because the amount of hostility and poor comprehension skills has been RAMPANT these days... Great song, very sad, very beautiful, bomb beat, don't be a dick, respect their privacy, shake some ass, have fun. That's it.

My favourite song is forever and always Atlantic, followed closely by Drag Me Under and Chokehold, then The Apparition and Ascensionism.

Here's a cool Sleep Token song sorter plus my personal results - we'll see how that holds up after Arcadia. Very fun to do if you have some spare hours to fully listen to their songs one by one.

I think that's it? Sorry about keeping you waiting, but my brain just wasn't working yesterday 😣

[romancingdaffodils]

Love Kills.

part 1

bassist!rockstar!remus lupin x roadie!reader

In which one of your closest friends happens to be Sirius Black, who is also the drummer in the infamous punk band: The Marauders. You’ve met Remus Lupin twice before the tour begins and you found yourself quite enthralled with him. The more time you spend, the greater the need is.

warnings : mention of drinking, and that’s about it. gender neutral reader with a small understanding of drums and stuff :333

title stolen from Love Kills - Joe Strummer

hiii i know you missed me

i’d like to give a special thanks to @alegsy for all his help on this one. and if you like Alex turner go check out @joepublicspeakings :33. Seriously Al thank you much for helping me out with all the roadie tech stuff and ideas and punk music too it really means a lot and i love you sooooo much. thank u smsm

ps pls ignore that matt plays electric and not bass it’s not my fault i love him so much

Sirius Black was by far the most interesting man you've ever met. He was also the reason you were stood with your hands clasped tightly around the handles of two stuffed bags.

"C'mooon, you know me, it'll be fun! You like the music, know the tech, got the skills nailed. You're the perfect roadie, join us." Sirius begged, following you around the bar. You frowned at him. Unfortunately for the raven haired man, you liked your job, which meant it took a lot more convincing to get you onside.

"Sleeping in a glorified caravan for god knows how many days doesn't exactly seem like my idea of fun! Plus, Sirius, I only really know James. Met the other lanky one, what, twice? Don't know the last guys name! It's not fair." you argued, crossing your arms and glaring at him. You had included a small white lie in the fact Remus Lupin was not known as the lanky one in your mind - you were familiar with the version of him that haunted your daydreams. He pouted at you. Yes, the fully grown man pouted at you.

"It pays well-ish! It'll get you in with the industry and it's months with your favourite person, ever. Me! On top of that, it's not a glorified caravan, we invested this year so shut your trap." he whined, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

"Right, fine, maybe. I'll, consider it. And, never ever say 'shut your trap' again. You're a daft twat, you know that?" you caved. He grinned.

"So that's a yes! And I'll do you the favour of assuming you're just trying to keep me humble." he grinned once again. Mentally, you smashed your head through a glass pane. What had you gotten yourself into?

“Nice shirt.” a voice spoke from beside you, giving you a small smile. You smiled back. The lanky one - Remus Lupin, you reminded yourself. Not that you needed much reminding; the honey eyed man stuck firmly in your brain.

“Thanks, didn’t know you liked Bowie. Thought all the punk stuff would be more for you.” you joked, peering up at him. He scoffed, as though your statement was the most insane thing he’d heard.

“Can still like the ‘punk stuff’ and Bowie. Plus, he’s a genius. Done every style and more, like.” he replied, some sort of northern accent coming in thick and fast. He was different to Sirius in many ways and you took comfort in it. Even though, at times, Remus was a tad bit mean. But, not really to you. The three times (including now) you’d met him he’d been quite lovely. Sirius had chewed your ear off about that.

“It took me years to get a grin out of him! And you do it straight away? It’s so not fair!” he whined, leaning against the counter of the pub’s bar.

“You’ll recover, posho, promise.” you said, giggling to yourself at his heartbreak.

“Yeah, suppose you’re right. Nice to see you again, by the way. It’s been a while. ‘m excited for the tour and stuff.” you said, deciding that changing the subject might suit you better.

“Me too, can’t believe Sirius actually got you on as a roadie. Did he physically fight you for it? Last time we asked you were dead set against it.” he gestured for you to walk beside him as he spoke. He was holding his bags in one hand and his bass case in the other. He made short work of putting everything bar his bag of necessities into the storage bin. Then, quickly took your own off of you, shoving them into the storage of the bus. He didn’t seem to mind doing the heavy lifting for you.

“He harassed me, a lot. At work. A lot. It’s fine though, I think I’ll enjoy it if I’m honest. If all else fails at least I’ll get contacts and friends out of it, yeah?” Remus snickered. He smiled down at you as he closed up the storage compartment.

“I’ve been telling myself that for the past, what? Decade? Trust me, he entices you in, you’re trapped now. Failed plenty of times and don’t think I’ve gained much - apart from wanting to bash all three of their heads in. On multiple occasions.” you giggle; he smiles.

“Ah well, just promise me you won’t let me kill anyone then. I’ll do the same for you.” you said, holding out your pinky for him to close the promise. It was childlike and somewhat immature, sure, but it locked the deal closed. Wrapping his pinky around yours, Remus silently agreed to your proposition.

“It’s nice to meet you— Jesus Christ! You’re lanky. Sorry. That was mean. Remus, right?! I’m the one Sirius told you about.” you shouted over the blaring music. Submission by the Sex Pistols was causing the entire room to shake and was rocking you to your core.

“Yeah. I know you. Been trying to keep up with Pads, by chance?” Remus chuckled down at you, assuming you weren’t always this dishevelled.

“Always. Thought I could out drink him, you know, for a posh boy, the lad can drink.” he smiled.

“Perks of going to a boarding school. Mix with all sorts of people, it was good for him.” you smiled.

The night seemed to fly by and you couldn’t keep yourself away from Remus. Flocking to him like a moth to a flame, your cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Thankfully, the incomprehensible amount of vodka you had consumed helped dull the pain.

“Can’t believe we haven’t met before.” you purred, peering up at him.

“Neither. Pads is cruel, keeps all his best friends to himself. Didn’t know there was anyone else on the planet who actively enjoyed The Clash and Dostoyevsky.” he responded, bringing a green tinted glass bottle to his lips.

“Let me try it.” you demanded, holding out your hand.

“You don’t like beer.” he said, giving you a small grin.

“Wanna try, it might be different.”

“Oh, yeah? All the beers you’ve had in your life and this one just might be different.” despite his teasing, he offered you the bottle. It did in fact not taste any different. It still tasted like piss.

“Nah, still rank.”

“Shame, that, really.”

You grinned. He smirked.

The tour bus was now filled. The four key members of the band: James, Sirius, Remus and Pete, who you’d finally remembered the name of and the rest of the members of your new team. Oh! And the support band, who you kept forgetting about, The Valkyries. Lovely girls, all of them. It tickled you somewhat that James and Lily were in rival bands. And, that some how they’d persuaded the rivals to support them. The roadies with you had mostly known the Marauders since school, which inevitably led to you feeling like an outcast. It really struck home as they were all discussing stories from their youth. The road was a relentless treadmill of travel and you were provided no solace. Until a small voice called your name.

“You busy?” Remus asked, poking his head into your bunk.

“Trying to be.” you joked, smiling over at him. He looked ridiculously oversized compared to the glorified caravan.

“Don’t think you aren’t welcome. They’re lovely. Sit up a bit, will you? My knees are killing I need to sit down.” you sat up, as he instructed. He sat on the bunk opposite yours, you faced him directly. It was a little scary- his ability to practically read your mind.

“I’m sure they are, just having second thoughts, as always. Dunno, you lot all went to school together. So, just a bit of an outcast, yanno?” you whispered, emphasising this was for Remus’s ears only. He nodded his head, and then began to shake it.

“Y’not an outcast. Promise. They’ll all love you once they get to know you. Like Pads does, poor fucker can’t leave you alone.” you laughed; he smiled. It wasn’t a sympathetic smile; it was genuine.

“I love Sirius too. Best friend you could ask for, really. It’s just such a shame he’s such a slag.” you joked. Remus laughed.

“Really is. How’ve you been since the incident?”

Remus’s hand was acting as a makeshift bobble as you threw up into the bar toilet. His other hand was rubbing small circles into your back.

“I hate him! I hate how much he can drink and- I hate this stupid bar.” you whined, in between sobs. Throwing up always made you cry.

“Shhh, yeah, I know. Come on, let it all out. Y’don’t need to cry, sweetheart, you’re fine. Just have to let it all out.” he cooed, still rubbing your back. God knows how you’d ended up exclusively talking to Remus the whole night and somehow still trying to out drink Sirius. You’d been fucked when the taller of the two showed up and now you were completely gone.

“This is so embarrassing. Sorry, I feel awful.” you threw up again after that.

“Got nothing to feel sorry about. Listen, been there done that with Sirius. Learnt my lesson the hard way too, plus I’m taller than you. Takes a lot more to get me drunk, yeah? He’s just insane. Don’t worry about it.” he comforted, not at all bothered by your sickness. Giving him a dopey smile, you were eternally grateful - even in your drunken state - that it was Remus you had befriended that night.

“Thank you, tell you what, I’ll do you a deal.” Remus nodded “Pinky promise if you ever get plastered I’ll do the same for you”. Holding out his pinky, Remus tilted his head at you. You locked pinkies with him for the first time (and most definitely not the last time).

“Good deal. Do you think we should get you home? Are you close? I’ll walk you if you are.” he offered, wrapping an arm around you to pull you up.

“Yeh, like ten minutes. Thank you, Remus, really. Bet you’re glad it’s me and not you, huh?” you joked, trying to add light to the situation. Leaning into him, you were relying solely on him to stay upright.

“Nah, know you’d do the same for me. Pinky promised it, didn’t you? And, it’s no problem. Think we’re going to be good friends.”

“Don’t bring that up around me. I’m still so embarrassed.” you complained, burying your head into your hands. Chuckling, Remus shook his head.

“Could’ve been worse, you could’ve declared your undying, unrelenting and pure love for Lily, whilst stood on top of the bar and using an empty vodka bottle as a microphone for the announcement. Poor Lils never recovered.” You lifted your head to give him the loudest laugh ever.

“They’re sooo cute. It’s upsetting.” you said, lying back down in your bunk. Remus watched your every move, subconsciously. “Oh, you said your knees were hurting. You get pains? Arthritis? My mum gets that in her knees, she just keeps moving, but I think it’s making it worse.” you rambled, turning your head to face him.

“Oh, yeah, just chronic pains, really. Just try and rest as often as possible.” he explained, stretching out his legs across the two bunks. His legs fell atop your own, now creating a bridge between the gap in the bunks. You smiled over at him.

“Must suck, huh? Well, let me know if I can help. Tour isn’t really resting.” you offered, giving him a big smile.

“Yeah, thank you, speaking of tour we aren’t far off Glasgow now.” he stated, peering out the window and then down at his watch.

“I’m ecstatic.” you stated sarcastically as your stomach twisted with nerves. Telling you not to worry, the sandy haired man gave you a smile that only made your stomach twist further.

The venue was a shit hole. A complete and utter shit hole. The ceiling had a badly patched up leak, which had almost destroyed Pete’s copy of the setlist. The reason Sirius had been so desperate to get you on his staff was because you specialised in drums - his instrument, of course. You’d managed to get everything set up relatively quickly. Carefully, you began to tighten the cymbals, listening for the correct pitch and length of the ring. Humming as you worked, you stopped every so often to admire the work of the rest of the team. Frank, who specialised in strings, was particularly impressive. He had finished up rather quickly and moved on to help his girlfriend, Alice, with getting everything ready for vocals. It seemed everyone here, but you had the perfect relationship. James and Lily were a lifetimes worth supply food for the green eyed monster. Frank and Alice were just as cute, but less well known as they weren’t in the limelight.

“All good?” he shouted over at you. You gave him a thumbs up and smiled over at Alice, who was fighting with some duct tape and a wire. Everything was all good for you, at the moment.

Finally, you finished up the final checks and placed a backup pair of sticks beside Sirius’s chair. It was then onto sound checks, all went well. You actually really quite liked the Marauders music. With inspiration from bands like The Clash and The Jam it’s hard to make a bad sound. He was weird in that he’d always carry around his sticks before the show, believing it would bring him good luck. In fact, in the first show you found out all the boys weird pre-show rituals. Pete laid down on the couch and threw chocolate raisins into his mouth. James clung onto Lily ever so slightly more than usual and insisted on drinking a shot of olive oil. As the lead singer he swore upon it for lubricating the vocal cords. You nearly gagged when you watched him do it. Whereas, Remus sat outside, cigarette in one hand and a cadburys chocolate bar in the other.

Trying to escape the rest of the boys, you ended up going outside and bumping into Remus during this. Quenching your thirst for normality, you couldn’t help your next actions. “Oh, sorry, hope I’m not interrupting.” you stated, giving him a small smile as you gravitated towards him.

“Nah, take it you saw James’s shot?” he said, before taking a long drag from the cigarette. Wincing, you looked at him with pure disgust in your eyes. “No I get it, can’t be around him when he does it either. Makes my jitters worse.”

“Christ, you don’t look nervous at all. Good poker face. Your sound check was really incredible though. James performs like Joe Strummer, it’s funny. You’re good, really fit the part of Paul, huh?” there was an unspoken message behind fitting the part of Paul. The bassist of the Clash and the so called good looking one of the group (as stated by their drummer, Topper). You thought the same about Remus.

“You calling us Clash tributes? Also, he humps less than Joe.” You laughed. Full force laughter left your lungs as you keeled over in genuine disbelief. Snickering, Remus looked down at you, a little scared you’d collapse on the floor and knock yourself out. You went to speak, but the words were drowned out in laughter. “That tickled you, dinnit?” he mumbled, dropping his cigarette and crushing it below his foot. The shout of ‘Five minutes till you’re on!’ snapped you out of your laughter. Grinning up at Remus, you tilted your head.

“Break a leg!”

“It’s not the theatre.”

“Oh, good luck.”

“Thank you.” he replied, smirking down at you. He pushed the final piece of his chocolate bar into your hand before walking inside for the ‘team talk’. Time seemed to move at the speed of light whenever the lanky man was around. You found yourself completely lost in everything about him. Seriously, you couldn’t believe how long Sirius had deprived you of this perfect man.

Frank had told you whilst you were setting up that the band always had a talk before going on stage. The talk often consisted of: “James don’t cry and don’t fuck up” from Sirius and Remus; “Dodge bottles, whatever you do don’t get hit please you’ll look stupid.” as the general message to the whole band and “Jump around”, which was mostly directed to Peter and Remus. Frank had also warned you about the dangers that came from within the crowd. Police. Famously, punk music was viewed as being quite aggressive; it ended up being the roadies job to make sure fighting and dancing could be differentiated. Sirius hadn’t told you about that part whilst advertising the job. However, now wasn’t the time to take offence.

Erupting like a volcano, the crowd filled the rotting venue with noise. You watched the boys sprint on stage. All leather and tight fitting trousers.

James really did look like Joe Strummer when he performed and Remus was right about his comparison too. Sirius looked truly ecstatic whenever he performed and the energy brought about by the show pulled Peter from his shell. And Remus, oh, Remus. He was entirely perfect.

Catching yourself, you blinked and shook your head. You’d met this man three times, including the current interactions and here you were, fawning over him. Sure, it’d get you in a little bit of trouble, but what harm is a crush. Right? Not much harm compared to glass bottles and punk rockers. Oh, and a leak in the ceiling with wires messily taped to the floor.

Bang.

[rocketqueen1989x]

Love to love

🤍Axl rose / reader🤍

⚠️please read the warnings before you read and if you feel uncomfortable please click off now ,thank you :3

warnings : fluff + age gap + mentions of stress + mentions of miscarrying a child + reader also has a child with Axl + mentions of arguments and having a break from partner

axl-62

y/n- 35

📍:California

⏰: 6:07pm

2023

***

Right now me , axl , our 3 year old son were in the studio

oh and slash and duff are here too

he’s currently working on a song with Michael schenker and his band.

the lyrics have been done for a couple of months but now axl is about to do the vocals , sing them and record

apparently he wrote these in February of this year and it’s now November 2023

he wrote these when me and him had a bit of a break from our marriage. we didn’t get a divorce or anything .

no no no

we just had a break and had some time apart. the reason why is because I miscarried our baby in December and we both couldn’t handle it , we were arguing a lot and the miscarriage broke axl apart

plus it wasn’t far on shiloh to see us argue like that

but we’re better than ever now. we got everything sorted just before he started the tour with guns n roses

A big smile was on my face as I watched my son ,shiloh blue rose standing at his fathers feet holding axl’s phone while watching paw patrol . his little hand was around axl’s leg as he leaned against him

Axl was talking to Michael as his hand was down on Shiloh’s head stroking his light ginger and wavy hair

his hair was getting so long. it needs cutting desperately. it’s going to his shoulders

honestly shiloh was like a mini version of axl. it’s like looking at axl when he was 3 years old

well expect from axl had shorter hair at Shiloh’s age

but their literally twins . the hair , the eyes , the face shape , the lips , the nose , his humour , his smile ,his facial expressions and his personality

literally everything was Axl. it was adorable

my eyes moved to axl and i watched his every move

He looked so handsome and beautiful

he had on a plain black shirt and some red shorts with his nike shoes on. his cross necklaces dangled from his neck and bounced on his chest every time he took a step or moved

Axl started to walk over to me and Shiloh climbed on my lap shoving axl’s phone in my face ,showing me one of his favourite cartoons off paw patrol

“I’ll be a few minutes “ axl said looking down at me before leaning down and pecking my lips softly

i smiled watching him walk away and in the booth getting ready “do you want to listen ?” Michael handed me some headphones and I nodded grabbing them with a smile

i put them on as I sat in the chair with shiloh on my lap now looking at Axl on the other side of the glass

“daddy ?” shiloh mumbled looking at me and pointing

i nodded with a smile “yeah it’s daddy” I smile happily stroking his finger hair back from his forehead. his bright blue eyes looked into mine as they got wider and softened

Shiloh turned back waving at Axl which Axl retuned with a smile making us both giggle

the intro started and I smiled looking at Axl then back down at shiloh who had his eyes on his father the whole time

that’s when axl’s voice filled my ears making me immediately look up at him through the window

“Oh it’s been too many times and I go back”

his voice sounded so good

what ?

i know he’s been having trouble with his voice lately and to be honest he’s been getting shit for it online

i mean he is 62 … he’s not going to sound like how he did 20 , 30 or 40 years ago

i smiled looking at him in thr booth ,headphones on and his eyes were closed just taking the music all in

“night bars , guitars , rundown motels like shacks “

I looked down at Shiloh and the phone was off now completely as he watched in ‘awe’

you could tell he absolutely adored his father. it was everything to me and of course Axl

“what it mounts up to i domt wanna know at all , I lost you and I need you today “

as sung the words hit me with love and a bit of sadness as I remembered he wrote these lyrics when had our couple of months away from each other

While the words flowed out of his mouth freely ,axl opened his eyes and immediately looked in my direction sending me a light smile making shiloh start waving again

I could see slash beside me out of the corner of my eye and smile softly down at Shiloh

there was little guitar and then he sun softly but more highly

“ Misty green and blue “

It sent shivers down my spine. I’ve never got this feeling ever. I can sit for hours , watch and hear him sing along to songs of his own or even other musicians and I love it

but this. it was different

i felt so raw and real

and it’s the way his eyes haven’t moved from me or shiloh in the past 40 seconds

“love to love to love you “

I felt shiloh climb up on my lap and stood up as I held him tightly. he stood up to get a better view of axl and he started to wave again

“shiloh “ I giggled softly putting his arm down making sure he doesn’t distract

he carried on singing and it was so beautiful. I felt quiet emotional which was very weird because I don’t really get emotional that quickly

“to be something, to be with you “

his eyes follwed to mine and he looked straight at me. my heart melted and it felt warm inside

it sounded so fucking good

“don’t say that you’ll never know , love to love to love you “

As it kicked in it hit more heavier and powerful

there was a long guitar part and it gave me goosebumps making me smile widely as I watched my husband

he looked so in tuned with it. Axl was nodding his head to the beat and his finger tapped on the side of his headphones while his eyes were closed just listening

soon the guitar part was over and he started to continue to see the next part

for the past 2 weeks he’s been saying to me the after the guitar solo means a lot to him and it’s very deep

nobody knows that expect from me apparently. there a big meaning behind the lyrics so hopefully I catch on what he’s talking about

I let out a nervous breath and Shiloh sat back down going back on the phone

“Half of the time it could seem funny , the other half was too sad “

mhmm. i wonder what he’s talking about

“This west bound moon they rise and fall “

i looked up at him from my lap and he was looking directly at me as he continued and began to sing the other words

i could slightly hear his rasp coming through a little

“I lost you and I need you here today, Misty green and blue , love to love to love you “

axl repeated and I gave him a little smile hue he didn’t flash me one back

he had this expression on his face that I couldn’t read it but I seen he gulped and looked away from me

i adjusted the headphones and turned it up at the side making it louder and I held them tighter to my head

“to be something , to be near you “

I looked up at him through the glass separating us and he looked at me for a split second then he closed his eyes and I felt the emotion in his voice

i could feel myself getting more and more weaker as the song went on and his voice came on again in my ears

“I don’t know where I’m goin’ to “

that right here brought tears to my eyes and I couldn’t help but let one tear roll down my cheek

“I tried and I need you to stay”

axl belted out and his rasp came out as he sung long and in an high pitched type of tone

i felt every emotion in him travel into my ears and into my body.

another tear left my eye and went down my cheek slowly but I quickly wiped it away making sure nobody saw but I’m pretty axl noticed

an hour later we left and we had to go home early because of Shiloh anyways. he was getting all whiny because it was past his bedtime

but now I was just finishing wiping down the counter tops with the cloth but that’s until I felt somebody stood behind me

i just saw the dark tall shadow loom over me but I could just tell it was axl but the the outline of his shadow gave it away anyways

I could hear his soft breaths hit the back of my neck and his long tatted arms wrapped around my waist pulling me back to his chest and he leaned his face further down to peck my cheek over and over softly

his little pecks of love warmed my heart and a big but soft smile was now painted on my face

he didn’t say anything and just continued to peck my cheek and a few seconds later he whispered

“I love you “

[chemnections]

Your blog is rad. I have thoughts.

"think of this while thinking of frank talking about how bands can be scared to make something new because it might ruin their legacy - because he's talking about my chem. that's why they are doing a stadium tour of an album they released in 2006."

I really hope that wasn't what he meant when he said that. I do think it was shade at Gerard because I do think he is scared shitless to release new music. But they have to know that nostalgia touring would do more to tarnish their legacy than new music ever could?

Plus if that's all they are doing why was Frank defending MCR against the 'sellout' allegations in rocksounds comments?

Signed, a fan in desperate need of hope for new music from my favorite band

ahh i wish i could give reassurance but my own personal policy is to assume to worst then if they do something i can be pleasantly surprised. i’d say my chem does end up lovebombing their fans in the way they will drop tour announcements out of no where and then there is an intense period of the shows whether attending or following, then to be dropped and met with silence with no reassurance of what the future hold or if they are even still together. it feeds the frenzy of an already intense fan space, but also it’s not unreasonable to know if a band is still together after the reunion tour. i can’t name another band who functions in this way. It’s chaotic and unprofessional. and it’s why as a fan I won’t hold my breath for them, won’t hope for anything more than they have given. it’s the only way i can have a sense of control and refuse to play the game.

but i can’t deny that i would prefer they stay together and make music. they are still young and together the make some amazing art. it’s hard to see potential wasted.

most fans wish frank doesn’t mean what he says because it’s not what they want to hear.

it is definitely shade at gerard, I am curious if it extends to ray too and probably their management. i wonder about ray because he also doesn’t demonstrate a need to create. only one solo album after the breakup which he never toured and never released more. a few collabs here and there that don’t really go anywhere. and nothing else. and management and the label are always going to be a problem in a sense. they want to band active to make them lots of money but they don’t want the band “devalued” by an unpopular new release.

and they have experience with this through danger days. frank especially talks about the pressure they were put under to top the success of the black parade in an industry that took a step away from rock music. and if you care more about success than the art your doomed from the start. frank has also asked about the meddling from executives who think they know better than the artists and want the artists to take their input so they can feel safe about investing in their music. this happened on danger days and that’s why it is their weakest album. regardless on your own feelings on it, it’s still a damn good album. and higher ups need to recognize endless growth is not possible. low periods for the band are great for die hard fans who get the chance to see their favourite band in cheaper more intimate venues. and low periods are sometimes essential for even bigger comebacks. that’s why you can’t enforce rigorous growth. example being taylor swift. reputation while popular now, when released was seen as a step down from 1989 which was believed at the time to be her peak. then the album after that didn’t do well either. but this built her up for the biggest tour the music industry has ever seen. but the fear is there and it’s being told to them and it’s real. especially for a band who grew more when they weren’t even together.

and backlash it tough. part of gerard’s public disappearance was that good attention wasn’t worth risking receiving negative attention.

the nostalgia touring is the “safe” move. and i rather they try that then nothing at all. part of it is a move to secure their legacy so they can be recognized as one of the big time bands. because it’s not enough to have the potential to do a tour like that, you have to actually do it to prove you can sell the tickets and put on a good show. this is a status changing tour in a way. i will be waiting for the day they are put in the rock and roll hall of fame.

but is that a pure motivation is another thing.

frank was pushing back on the notion of them selling out because he himself is not selling out.

he’s the one who fought like hell to get them to reunite and tour and release foundations of decay. and he fought like hell for them to keep going now in any capacity and this is the capacity. because he isn’t afraid of creating and he is strong and passionate enough to stand by his work against criticism. those comment about selling out must feel like fans spitting on his hard work.

and to give credit where credit is due, mikey is on frank’s side and openly and enthusiastically supports him. there’s a reason he went to the ls dunes show and posted videos and lots of group pictures. and mikey’s need to created is often underrated too, i recommend his comics because he is a very talented writer.

new music breathes new life. like magic to follow the theme. foundations of decay i think was essential to the swarm tour. first to chart at number one, but it helped give the tour its own identity. when i listen to it i feel like i am transported back to the concert. the other songs have been around so long that i don’t have that association because they already have associations in my life from before the reunion.

sorry for not being reassuring.

they should at least be giving the black parade a twist or new edge, with that trailer. which changing a recipe to a classic is probably a more dangerous game then releasing new music.

[biblical-chronicles]

What other music do you listen to? Are you solely Britpop?? Would love a top 10

you just opened a pandora box love, thank you it got me out of me little hole xx please discuss this with me, this is me life lmao

Interestingly, I am not brit-pop at all, more rock, punk, post-punk, metal, jazz, blues territory

If I had to list all the bands I like we'd be here for a loooong fucking time...

but here are some honourable mentions

first of all, PiL, so Public Image ltd. favourite band ever, innovative, the lyrics as well??? god Lydon knows how to write a song and make you reflect, such interesting topics. Also, love the performing style, just adds so much to the overall 'product'. All the albums offer summat different and I love that, although the earlier work is much crazier and experimental which I love. Just such a powerful discog, beautiful and unique sound, it's amazing how many songs from them seem to perfectly encapsulate how I feel, and I could go on forever here so I'll stop meself. (+ his spoken word??? Ahhhh !!!)

with PiL I have to mention the sex pistols too I guess. Love 'em so much, have the whole material ingrained in me brain. Although them going on a reunion tour without John is so meh, he was literally what made them in a way? you just can't get that tone. I think it'd be better if they did it without a vocalist, just let the audience shout the lyrics back. Should've called it just sex or just pistols or ex-pistols without him...)(or just call it the professionals reunion + glen matlock)(like ya just can't do that, what's next? the stones without jagger? dead kennedys with no jello? oh wait.. that's already a fucking thing) nevermind the bollocks... here's the three ex-pistols. It's the great rnr swindle all over again, and we are being swindled yet again, ever get the feeling that you've been cheated? (I have so much more to say here but I'll stop meself, but how fun is it to sue a man with not so much cash that's takin' care of his ill wife full-time? and to sue him with disney so he can't win? and only to win the case because the man has previously won a case for you to split the rights to the music evenly? even though he wrote most, and could've taken all the rights to it easily?) okay, now stopping meself for real, but I could write an essay here.

up next Black Sabbath, I mean come on? Megalomania is one of the best songs ever, love it !! dead crazy discog and impact, thank you tony iommi for choppin' a bit of your fingers off, so that you had to down-tune your guitar to play.

now, the beatles, I mean, I won't even start since you will not stop me as well, won't allow meself to start, nuh uh

janis joplin + big brother and the holding company when she was with them. You just can't recreate that voice, ever. What a powerhouse of an artist, love her.

another woman to add would be courtney love, you just can't stop her can ya? as much as her rebellin' is pretty pointless sometimes, that woman has some serious pipes. Love the visceral screaming and all, mostly am into the first album + live through this.

I'll also shout-out rammstein, you can't go wrong with some straight to the point brutal riffs yeah? from more german speaking bands, I like some Falco, especially the first album, so Einzelhaft, it's just the best lyrically and just so so 80's. Also, Wolfgang Ambros with 'Es lebe der Zentralfriedhof' if you want some more Wiener Schmäh.

The Clash is also great, classic. Plus it gave us Keith Levene, personal guitar hero to me, although he wasn't as involved with the band just helped with creating it / some early material / helped gettin' Joe Strummer in.

Yes is another highlight for my prog-rock fans, me dad is big on them so I had to be as well. Pink Floyd would also fit here which you just have to like, come on.

more metal-esque I am pretty big on Megadeth (better than Metallica fight me), I also went through some death / black metal phases but it didn't stick to me as much? if anything then darkthrone or cannibal corpse is alright, also death.

and since I didn't expand on punk that much I'd recommend Dead Kennedys especially fresh fruit for rotting vegetables, The Exploited, Minor Threat etc. etc. Interestingly, I am not too big on The Ramones, just a tad too 'poppy' for me (don't attack me). But the Buzzcocks are alright. Won't go into the smaller bands since I'd sit here forever once again.

Led Zeppelin as well, I fucking love Led Zeppelin!

post-punk wise, also gotta plug the talking heads in here, you just have to.

thank you, this question got me dead excited, please ask me about music recs or opinions, I am a firm believer that I have an opinion on almost everything. I can debate and talk about music forever please talk to me, please ask me to elaborate, this is me area of expertise (I need a job)

It's also a pet peeve of mine that Liam says he plays rock'n'roll? Chuck Berry, that's rock'n'roll, Little Richard also, but Liam, sweetheart, you are not within' that genre. Nowt wrong with that, just if someone got told they are in for some classic rnr, and then got wall of glass, they'd be surprised to say the least.

[flash-the-readies]

Calling my younger self out for all the embarrassing things they thought/did when I first started getting into Pink Floyd (I just think I was endearing albeit annoying)

Initially confused them with LED Zeppelin because for some reason my brain put them on a similar tier

Went to watch the Pulse tour DVD … promptly realised it was post-Waters, cried, shut it off immediately, and haven’t seen it since (I actually own a DVD and a VHS tape of the film…both of which were gifts actually)

Saw that Live at Pompeii gif of Roger blowing the smoke rings and just stared at it for a long while promptly falling in love

Didn’t know the Wall was a double album and just assumed the second disc was demos so I never listened to it and would only listen to half the album. Eventually I decided to play the second disc and realised how stupid I was (In the Flesh confused me)

Had an entire wall in my room dedicated to The Wall (I painted out the brick design and had these posters)

Didn’t really care much for the WYWH album (and now it’s my favourite Pink Floyd album..)

FUCKING GAVE AWAY THE IN THE PINK NICK SEDGWICK BOOK BECAUSE I WAS GOING THROUGH SOME SHIT AND ROGER WAS MAKING ME FEEL GUILTY AND HORRIBLE

Would listen to the Wall at least once a day for months on end especially while sitting alone at lunch

Used the fact that my mum desperately wanted me to make friends to go to a Roger Waters concert with this boy who had a crush on me and then promptly started trying to convert me to Catholicism once he found out I’m atheist, bisexual, and non-binary. Roger Played the Gunner’s Dream for the encore so no regrets there

Had a long and unhealthy obsession with The Final Cut and would play my LP of it at least once a day

Read something about Roger calling the rest of the band “the muffins” and promptly dubbed David “greasy muffin”…and got the rest of my online friends to join in

Wrote endless HCs with a friend about Watershend (Roger Waters x Pete Townshend)… I stand by this one. Sorry

Did a 10 minute presentation on the Wall for a history class when I was…14

Called in sick to school even though my teachers knew I was going to watch Roger Waters in concert

Found a copy of Rick Wright’s Wet Dream on vinyl at a market… had no cash in the moment … asked my friend if they could give me cash and then I’d pay them back later… my friend agreed thinking it was for food (I wasn’t trying to deceive them I promise I just didn’t communicate what that money was for as clearly as I thought I did… but I did pay them back plus a bit extra!) I did get my record tho

Went to Battersea Station…. DIDN’T REALISE IT WAS A FUCKING SHOPPING MALL ON THE INSIDE BECAUSE I FAILED TO DO MY RESEARCH AND DIDN’T EVEN ATTEMPT TO GO INSIDE BECAUSE I AM AWKWARD AS HELL… so instead I opted to awkwardly stand around the outside and check out the nearby shops (this is recent ;-;)

I used to draw and would just fill my notebook up with drawing of Pink Floyd (mostly just Roger…)

I am just now remembering how much of my fanart was nose-centric

You know that common trans experience of “trying desperately to live as your assigned gender one last time so you overcompensate before you come out”… well that overlapped with my “ukulele and Syd Barrett let’s dress psychedelic” phase

Have bought way too many pieces of clothing because they remind me of something Roger wore once (I think I’ll make this into it’s own post perhaps)

That’s all I can remember for now. Just feeling nostalgic. I could make a second part of all the most recent cringe shit I’ve done. I’m not laughing at myself I’m laughing with myself. Honestly my younger self was iconic, gotta love her

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Fifteen.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,830

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

Twenty-three years old. In truth, Ella hadn’t really known where she’d be the year before, her denial and then acceptance of the need to recover herself at the forefront of her mind. Where she found herself was in a position few women would turn down.  

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, ahhhh!” Her gritted statement was delivered on a bliss filled cry, highly enjoying having her insides rearranged as she was shagged ragged from behind by her boyfriend. Slowing, he grasped her shoulders, pulling her until her back pressed against his chest, mouth laying hot kisses at the side of her neck as his hands roamed over her. 

It shined golden through her, every wave of ecstasy elicited by the slow, deep punch of his cock, one hand squeezing her breasts and sliding to hold her throat, the other moving between her legs to begin stroking at her clit. With every roll of his fingertips, he pulled soft wails from her, teeth nipping her neck, sending little bolts skittering through her.   

“So, how’s your birthday going so far, darlin’?” he panted, Ella turning her head with a big smile, kissing him with smouldering sin. 

“Could be a lot worse than getting pounded by a gorgeous, thick cock.”  

He hummed a chuckle against her lips, rutting her a little harder. “Yeah, ain’t you a lucky girl?” After he’d finished bouncing her around the bed, she had that confirmed even further, too.  

“Baby! No! You didn’t!” she screamed, her mouth dropping open, James’s grin widening at seeing how thrilled she was with her gift. He’d bought her favourite album by The Prodigy on vinyl for her, signed by all four members of the band.  

“I did. Knew you’d die as soon as you saw it, innit. Oh, and you might wanna look inside the sleeve.”  

Curious, she opened it up, her mouth falling open again after pulling out two tickets to go and see them live at Kentish Town Forum in London the following month. The tour had sold out before she’d had chance to get any, so how he’d managed it she didn’t know.  

“My BFG!” she cooed, moving to straddle his lap and kiss him. “You’re the best! Thank you so, so much!” 

“You’re welcome, little,” he hummed, kissing her again and tightening his arms around her. “And yeah, I’m coming with you to suffer the noise. Got us a hotel booked down there for the weekend and all that, too.”  

With his money from album sales running quite low, it was truly more than he could afford, but she was worth it. Besides, he could easily go and pick up some work somewhere around recording their new album come nine days from then, Steve already returned to doing doorman work at various clubs and bars around Warwickshire. He’d done it himself in the past at The Gallows, so supposed he could ask Steve’s boss to hook him up with a few hours. It meant losing weekends around shifts, but it paid very well.  

It was The Gallows they were heading to that evening for Ella’s birthday night out, James half expecting her to want to go to a club that played pounding dance music until dawn. Her revealed plans had been very different, though. He couldn’t say that it wasn’t to his relief.  

After the incident when she’d been grabbed at while dancing on a podium, it had made her feel uncomfortable about returning to her beloved dance scene again, Ella beginning to find herself much more at home on the metal scene. Even the music was beginning to grow on her. Plus, it was well known now wherever she went, exactly who she was; War’s girlfriend, and if there was one woman you didn’t grab out of fear of having your arse handed to you, well. It was her.  

Also, she found that the blokes on the rock and metal scene were much more appropriate, too. Despite the common reputation of being uncouth hellions, she definitely noticed a difference in how she was treated.  

Take one night at The Gallows for instance, Ella walking back to her table from the toilets and suddenly finding herself halted by a man she didn’t know, rapidly removing his plaid shirt and tying it around her waist, whispering discreetly that her hotpants had split at the back. The man had introduced himself as Mark, he and his girlfriend Lizzie becoming fast friends with her and her little group.  

They’d be meeting with them that night, as well as her sister and Andrea, too, who they were collecting from the train station that afternoon after visiting James’s parents. Needless to say, the activities planned for afterwards were the ones he was looking forward to more that day. Apart from seeing his dad and sister, but he was dreading introducing Ella to his mother.  

“If she says anything thoughtless, just ignore her. Carole Kingston ain’t known for having a filter. I’d say she don’t mean it, like, but I’m not so sure any longer. Fucking shit stirrer,” he spoke as they alighted the car outside number forty-seven, Prescott Drive a few hours later.  

Halting him at the bottom of the drive, she grabbed his hands, giving his arms a little shake. “Come on, chill out a bit before you go in there.” 

“I’m fine, I’m chilled,” he spoke. 

Ella snorted softly. “That’s a load of bollocks, baby. You’re practically grinding your teeth. Come on, just breathe it out, relax.” Truly, she wanted it to go well for his sake more than hers, not wanting there to be any existing conflict for him to negotiate. It all depended on what mood his mother was in though, she supposed.  

He dropped a kiss to her forehead, grabbing her hand before walking up the drive past his dad’s car, the front door flying open. 

“Nah, Jimbo! What are you doing with such a pretty girl? Did she not bring her white stick and Labrador with her?”  

“Fuck off, dickhead,” he frowned, Sam throwing her head back with a squeaky laugh.  

“Hi, Ella. I’m Sam, or dickhead, pain in the arse or twat, as my brother often calls me. Nice to meet you!”  

Indeed, those were his preferred names. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” she spoke, James walking past her with a shoulder barge. 

“Out the way, skin!” he muttered, stopping to grin and then pull her into a hug. “What kind of mood is the duchess in?” 

“Not too bad, you know. Freaked out over cheese sauce. She’s made lasagne.” Immediately, his stomach tingled, wondering how Ella would cope with that, a food that was definitely placed on the scary category. It had to be said, though, she was getting better. She managed to eat rice a few times a week without issue, which was good since they had to make food money stretch.  

Moving through the house, they arrived in the large kitchen, the space extending around to a dining room as well. What had once been a modest council house had been turned into a much larger home, the extension built on by Ted, Alan’s brother giving a lot of space that hadn’t existed before, and a garden much easier to manage.  

“Alright, kidda! Ella, looking lovely as usual. Happy birthday, petal!” Alan spoke as he walked back in from the garden, handing her a card and giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Awww, thanks, Alan,” she spoke, opening it up, thanking him again after reading the message and finding a twenty-pound note kindly included, Carole turning from the sink. 

“Oh! You’re here! Hi!” Bustling over, she pulled James into a hug, turning then to Ella with a smile. “Well! You’re nothing like the last one, but that’s a good thing. Bright yellow hair, tattoos on her face and a flippin’ great big ring in the middle of her nose!�� she exclaimed, the corner of her mouth twitching as she laughed.  

James supposed that was a compliment of sorts. Unless you happened to be Chrissie, his ex. His insides unclenched a little, seeing that his mum appeared to be in a good mood. It was what drove him up the wall about her most, the fact that Carole had the capacity to be a perfectly lovely woman, but all too often let her less favourable qualities get the better of her. 

Still, he knew how quickly she could find a fault and begin to pick at it. Like clockwork, it began over lunch, James noticing her eyes flitting to Ella at regular intervals, very observant over the smaller portion of food she ate.  

“Eh lad, I was out with a few of the fellas from work last night, saw Steve on the doors at that new club they’ve opened in what used to be the old Lloyds bank. When’d he go back to it?” Alan asked, placing his cutlery down and picking up his beer.  

“Not long ago,” he confirmed, crunching through a piece of cucumber. “He’s having a word with his boss tonight, seeing if he can get me back in it as well.”  

Carole’s eyes snapped to her son, pausing from chewing. “James, you aren’t seriously considering going back to being a bloody bouncer, are you?” 

“Yeah, I am. I’m good at it and it pays well. Only downside is losing my weekend nights, but it wouldn’t be every weekend. The shifts rotate,” he confirmed, reaching to tickle Ella’s cheek with his finger when she poked her bottom lip out. If there was one thing she loved, it was going out for a good time with her boyfriend.  

Her eyebrows rose. “Really? That’s the only downside? You getting glassed or worse by some pissed up idiot isn’t something you’re factoring in here?” 

“Ease up, love,” Alan spoke lightly, “he’s a big lad, he can handle himself. Then there’s the ole’ kickboxing, you’ve started that too now, right? How’s that going?” 

James thought it was commendable that his dad obviously wanted to move the conversation on from being something to gripe about. “Yeah, I really enjoy it. Only had two classes so far, go on Monday and Wednesday evenings.” 

“Learning kickboxing won’t stop you from being stabbed.” Oh, no. She wasn’t quite done yet. “Remind me how many times you had a knife pulled on you while you were working doors before?”  

“Three, and none ever got me,” he spoke, chewing the inside of his cheek with irritation.  

He watched her shrug, the corner of her mouth twisting. “I hope you’re not going back to it because underneath, you want them to. We’re not back there are we, James?”  

Ella’s eyes widened, gulping down her mouthful of food, reaching beneath the table to rest a hand on his thigh. God, he was right. No tact was to be found there.  

“I’d say I can’t believe you’ve just said that, but I can.” Fixing her with a hard look, he lifted his chin. “No. I’m not.” 

“Carole,” Alan warned, placing his glass down. “Don’t.”  

“Don’t what? Show concern with what ‘profession’ our son is seeking?” 

“I already have one of those,” the son himself stated, “but sadly ‘cos our corner of the metal world ain’t as lucrative as the more mainstream stuff, it don’t pay fortunes. I need quick cash until we get the next album done, get out on the road again and all that. Touring is where the main revenue is, innit.” 

“Then why in god’s name are you flippin’ doing it? Wasting your bloody time, you are!” 

“Because he loves it.” James hadn’t expected Ella to speak up, but there she was, her hand still squeezing his thigh supportively. “Because he wouldn’t be who he is without his music.” 

Carole wasn’t used to having her opinion challenged, no matter how politely. “What’s that then, Ella? A clinically depressed man who seems to be heading down all the wrong paths in his life? Choosing a career that doesn’t pay and sublimating it with a job fraught with dangers?” 

“Clinical depression is what he has. It isn’t who he is. Who he is, is a musician. A very talented one.”  

His heart bloomed, to hear those words. He’d known Ella for six and a half months and yet, she had a better understanding of him than his own mother. It spoke volumes. Carole, however, wasn’t to be defeated like that. Her words were delivered with the brand of cool snide the entire family were sadly becoming all too used to hearing.  

“So, where are you working at the moment, then? What’s your special talent, Ella?” 

James’s eyes fixed on her, his nostrils flaring. His girlfriend had hit her with something she couldn’t argue back against, so she’d changed track.  

“Currently, I’m not working. I start my new job next Monday, though. At the florist just off the high street.” 

“Oh, Bloomin’ Lovely?” Sam interjected, wanting to try and steer the conversation round. “I bought mum a bouquet from there for her birthday a few months back. The lady was so sweet, with all her bracelets and those crazy glasses and bright pink hair!”  

“Yeah, that’s it!” Ella confirmed. “And her hair is orange at the moment. She seems really cool.”  

“So, what have you been living off since you’ve been out, then, since you’ve only recently found yourself work?” Carole then questioned, the corner of her mouth upturning, thinking she had a win coming her way. 

Ella felt uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t be made to feel small. “I had some cash from my former job in the bank.” 

“Oh, I’m glad to hear you’ve been paying your way and not sponging off my son. I thought maybe the reason he could have been going back to high risk, but high pay work was to support you both. I’m glad that isn’t the case.” Her eyes toured her, picking up her wine glass with a little grin. “Not that you eat much, though. You can’t be expensive to keep. Just as well, really, since you probably vomit most of it back up.” 

How James didn’t throw the knife in his hand directly at her head, he didn’t know, placing his cutlery down and glaring. “That was low. In fucking fact, mum, that was spiteful. I ain’t having that, nah.”  

“Good bloody lord, Carole!” his dad remarked, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There was no need for that. Ella, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

She nodded, but inside felt her stomach turning over and over, unable to believe how unpleasant the afternoon had turned. All because Carole was wrong and couldn’t stand it. 

She shrugged, sipping her wine with nonchalance. “Don’t apologise for me. I’m not sorry for pointing out the truth.” 

“Mum, stop it. You’re only embarrassing yourself,” Sam groaned, combing her fingers through her short, bobbed hair. 

With those words, James made a decision, looking across the table to see nothing but smug glee from a woman who truly should have been nothing but ashamed for the way she’d just spoken. If only her ego would let her.  

“And that’s the last time I step foot in this house.” Standing up, he turned to Ella, reaching for her hand. “You can’t help yourself, mum, and deep down I don’t even think you want to. I think you enjoy provoking reactions. Alright so fine, I obviously didn’t grow up to be the son you wanted. I’m a basket case of a black metal musician and that pisses you off, but Ella ain’t done fuck all to you.” 

“James, that’s not...” Carole began, but her eldest had truly had enough. 

“Nah, tired of it, innit. You? You ain’t good for my recovery, you wind me the fuck up every time I have to share breathing space with you. Find someone else to pick at, because it ain’t me any longer and it sure as fuck ain’t my girlfriend either.” Walking around the table, he grasped his dad’s shoulder, telling him he’d see him soon, dropping a kiss to Sam’s head and pledging her the same.  

He was about to leave, turning back suddenly. “You know what? One thing I’ve learned in therapy is that with mental illness, sometimes people with a mentally ill parent are more predisposed to it, like. Maybe you might wanna go get whatever the fuck it is you’re suffering from checked out, save you losing any other members of your family, yeah?” 

“Oh, shut your mouth, James! How flippin’ dare you accuse me of that! You’re the crazy one here, not me!” 

Now she’d really done it, the bile in him rising sharply. “Drop dead, you vile old twat.” 

Leaving the house, the first thing he did was take Ella’s face in his hands and kiss her, wrapping her in a huge hug. “I love you so fucking much. I’m sorry she chose today of all day’s to be such a cunt to you. Gave me the push I’ve needed for a while, though, innit. She ain’t no good for me, so I don’t want nothing to do with her.” 

Her eyes widened, shaking her head. “You were right. I wondered, you know, could she truly be that bad? Bleedin’ hell. She’s worse. It’s so flip switch, too!” 

“Told you.” 

“And she’s so calculated! If you prove her wrong on one thing, she veers off and attacks you over something else!” 

“Told you.” 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry you had a mum like her to deal with, especially while you’ve been recovering!” Her jaw tightened, shaking her head. “I could smack her for calling you crazy! What a nasty woman.” 

He took her hand, kissing it before they walked away from the house, the muffled sounds of his parents yelling at each other fading as they moved down the drive. “Yeah, this is why I ain’t been around her much. Her having that attitude towards me is one thing, but you? Nah. Fuck that.” He smirked a little sadly, his nose crinkling. “I still feel like a cunt for telling her to drop dead though, innit. Didn’t mean that, I was just pissed off with her being like that all the shitting time.”  

“I think you were reserved for how blazing you can be when you’re angry!” she cried, James getting into the car and leaning over to open her door for her. “You didn’t even shout at her. You just like, told her it wasn’t on and then removed yourself. It’s pants, it really is, but if that’s how she chooses to behave then honestly, this has probably been a long time coming.” 

He started the engine, but sat and looked thoughtful for a few moments, reaching to grasp her hand. “I love that about you, babe. You’re so fucking wise, and you’re right. It has. Thanks for standing up for me in there, too. Just wish it hadn’t fucking happened. Proper fucking stressed now.” 

Looking at her watch, she saw that the disastrous lunch had left them with three hours to kill until Andrea’s train arrived, her fingers tickling her way up his arm through the thick, grey sweater he wore. “I can take your mind off the stress, if you like?” 

The suggestion in her voice and the way she looked out from under her lashes at him was undeniable. Half an hour later, and he was relaxing in the armchair, smoking a joint while Ella’s mouth bobbed up and down on his cock. There were much worse ways to spend a Saturday afternoon, he thought. He could have stayed at his mother’s house, for example.  

The tie had been severed now, though, and while he did feel shit about how it had all ended, there was a very real sense of peace he experienced at cutting her out of his life. If she brought him nothing but frustration then she couldn’t remain. Frustration was the last thing he felt in that moment, though, taking one last puff on the joint before placing it down, not wanting to be too high when he had to drive. Besides, Ella was doing wonderful things for him with her mouth all on her own. 

“Mmmmm, fuck, your cock is so hard,” she moaned, flicking her tongue over the head before taking him back deep again, feeling it twitch. “Makes me really want to get on it, but I’ll have enough of that later, and I don’t want a sore little pussy to take that kind of pounding.”  

Working him faster and faster, her hand massaged the base of him while her mouth gradually added more pressure, his hips twitching and abs locking as with a deep groan, he spilled into her throat. 

Swallowing, she carefully tucked him back into his jeans, licking her lip seductively as she reached for her can of Diet Coke and took a big gulp. “Less stressed now?” 

“Mm.” 

Chuckling at his blissed-out reaction, she moved astride him. “Did I fry your brain?” 

“Mm.”  

She kissed him, all slow heat, his hands grasping tight on her bum. “Cool beans. Can’t be having a stressed-out church burner on my hands.” He laughed, and she received a hard slap to her bum, Ella squeaking as she made herself comfortable on his lap. They had about twenty minutes of the flat to themselves before Steve and Snedders arrived back, the guys laden with bags.  

“Happy birthday, Greenhall!” Steve announced at high volume. “Sorry it ain’t wrapped, but I’m a bloke. I’m proper rubbish at all that!” 

She had her face grabbed and a huge smacker planted on her lips, James beginning to laugh filthily. “Ahh man. If only you knew where her mouth was twenty minutes ago.” 

Steve worked it out in two seconds, shuddering, his face so sour that the flat was filled with riotous laughter at his expense as he strode for the alcohol bottles in the kitchen and cleansed himself with four mouthfuls of Jack Daniels. “Oh man. No. Bleugh. Open your present!” 

Ella peered into the bag, her eyes lighting up. “I love you! You’ve been talking to Hester, haven’t you?” 

“I fucking have!” he announced proudly as she pulled out a wooden carved buddha statue she’d been eyeing in the local new age shop, plus a bottle of Absolut vodka. “Get it open! Let’s do shots!”  

Ella shared a look with James. “Only him. Only ole’ Berserker over there would have designs on drinking my birthday present with me.” 

“Oi! Who polished off my fucking tequila last Sunday and then kept me awake while she bounced all over my best friend’s cock? You and your sex screaming owe me, now get over here!”  

He had a point, Ella scrambling from James’s lap with her vodka as he laughed loudly, moving to Steve who was lining up shot glasses. She had the feeling it was about to be an awesome night, regardless of what had befallen it in the hours before.  

She’d be right to, too.  

[invisibleraven]

“This is not the end. See you later, my love.” for Rose/Ray/Reggie. Permission to destroy me lol

One of Reggie's favourite times as a dad was bedtime-which, granted, was weird, but he absolutely adored tucking Julie and Carlos in, indulging them with stories, and songs, even turning old Sunset Curve songs into lullabies. Sure, maybe some would say they were getting a bit old for it, but until they asked him to stop, he would keep it up.

Plus-now that his new album was done, he knew he would be hitting the road sooner rather than later, meaning he would be away from his kids-his family for untold weeks. Don't get him wrong, he loved his career as a country star, but he hated how much time it took him from them.

"Do I have to go on tour?" he whined to Ray and Rose one night.

"Not if you don't want to tesero," Rose replied, playfully shoving him over in bed. "But it would disappoint an awful lot of your fans."

"Plus it'll be all the sweeter to come home afterwards," Ray added as he squeezed into the other side of the bed.

"And you're sure you and the kids can't come with me?" Reggie asked, using his best puppy dog eyes in hopes they would relent, even if he knew they never would.

"We talked about that," Rose sighed. "As much as I miss touring with the Petal Pushers, we are too old to be living on a bus for weeks on end, and we can't take the kids out of school for that long."

"Plus you remember how bad it was last time we did that?" Ray reminded him with a shudder. Reggie grimaced along with him-he did remember, trying to fit the five of them, plus his band and people on the bus, with Julie and Carlos running around crazy, stir crazy from the ride. It had been a less than relaxing family vacation and they had all agreed-never again.

"Fiiiine," Reggie relented. "But I'll talk to Marci about coming home at least once before I hit the East coast, and maybe you guys can come to a show? It'll be spring break by the end, so we could all go somewhere."

"That sounds lovely," Rose stated, worming her icy toes between his thighs as she lounged with her book, Ray snickering as he spooned Reggie, the two of them used to Rose being the night owl that she was.

Time passed all too quick, and soon enough it was the night before he was set to go. His bags were packed, his crew ready to set off at first light. He wished he had another few weeks to spend at home, to inhale the apple scent of the kids' shampoo, to listen to their stupid jokes and fights, to hug them tight, listen to them squeal as it turned into a tickle fight.

God he hated leaving.

"Daddy! Tuck me!" Carlos demanded, in the way only a five year old could. Reggie sh0ook his head, but heeded the call, passing Ray and Rose who had already bestowed their good nights while he had dealt with the disaster that had been bath time. Felt Rose squeeze his hand as she passed. They had explained to the kids that he was going, but it was now a reality and Reggie had no idea how his spouses would deal with the fallout the next day.

"Alright scalliwag, into bed with you," Reggie sated, scooping Carlos up and tossing him back under the covers, pressing kisses to his nose, just to get one more boyish giggle. Reading him The Gruffalo practically from memory now, and turning on his little astral projection lamp so the ceiling swirled with stars. "Love you buddy. I'll see you in a few weeks-you're in charge of fun while I'm gona okay?"

"Okay daddy, love you," Carlos replied, clinging a little tighter as he hugged him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, and was asleep within seconds of hitting the pillow. Reggie took a moment to memorize this-while he was still and not causing trouble. The fluffy curls of his hair, the snuffly little snore, the bow of his lips.

It was so hard to rip himself away, but Julie was waiting on him.

Julie at almost ten, insisted that she didn't need to be tucked in, to be read to. "Indulge your father-just for tonight will you?" he asked, and she relented, as she always did, a secret little smile on her face as she snuggled into her multitude of pillows as he picked up the book.

When she was younger, Reggie had read her fairy tales by the bucketload, had done the princess tea party every time she asked, sang along to every Disney karaoke. Now that she was older, he found adaptations of fairy tales for her-a bit more mature, but still full of love and adventure. They had just finished Ella Enchanted, and now they were a few chapters into The Princess Bride.

He had just relayed to her that Westley's boat had been raided by the Dread Pirate Roberts and she looked at him wide eyed as he closed the book. "Is that it? Is that the end?"

Reggie smiled at her sweetly. “This is not the end." Showed her how much book they had left. "But we both have early mornings, so it's time for goodnight. We can finish it when I get back, or you ask Papi to read it to you."

"He never does the voices right," Julie grumbled. "But will you call when you're gone?"

"Just try and stop me."

Julie nodded, sombre as she pulled him in for a hug. "I love you daddy. Goodbye."

"Never goodbye mija. It's see you later, my love.”

With that he pressed a kiss to her forehead, hoping his tears didn't reach her face before he wiped them away, turning off the lights as he went, knowing Julie would take some time to fall asleep-for not being his biologically, she had certainly inherited his insomnia when it came to nights like this.

"Everybody tucked?" Rose asked, handing him a glass or horchata as he slumped onto the kitchen table.

"It sucked," Reggie grumbled, before righting himself and taking a swig. "I hate this, I hate leaving."

"We aren't exactly doing a jig here either," Ray stated, nudging him with his shoulder. "Though it will be nice to have more room in the bed..."

"Hey!"

A playful little shoving match started, with Rose rolling her eyes. "You two will end up on one of the couches if you wake the kids up."

"Sorry," they chorused.

Rose came over then, plopping herself on Reggie's lap. "Now cariño, we all hate it when you're gone, but deep down, you know you love touring-getting to see all your fans, getting to explore the country, getting to share your music with the world."

"I know it just....it gets harder and harder to leave you guys every time," Reggie replied. "I'm always scared that I'll come home and you won't be here, or won't want me back, and I know that's stupid, but my brain just always worries."

Ray and Rose exchanged glances, then Ray left, coming back with a large book. "Here, take the scrapbook with you."

"But that's for the kids!"

Ray snorted. "Reggie, we have pictures of you-of all of us everywhere, thanks to me. You'll only have your phone. So take the scrapbook, add some pages to it so you have stuff to show us when you're back. Because you have to bring it back."

Rose nodded. "I worked too damn hard on that thing for you not to return it-and you-to us."

Reggie giggled wetly. "I can do that."

Rose smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Nw, how about you tuck us in for one last romp before you leave us for months?"

He barked out a laugh, but just told her to hang on as he got up, taking the stairs two at a time, Ray hot on their heels, flicking off lights as they went.

Maybe their tuck in involved far less stories, and far more smooches, but Reggie felt loved and comforted by the time the covers were pulled over the three of them, and he swore he would keep this feeling with him until he could come home again.

But he was totally taking the money from this tour to buy them a bigger, sturdier, less squeaky bed, or their next 'tuck in time' might have them all on the floor.

[black-arcana]

"Rock'n'roll is alive, and I need it to stay that way": The Pretty Reckless are on the road with AC/DC, and Taylor Momsen is more than ready to rock

Supporting the Rolling Stones and AC/DC in the same week? Sounds like a pretty good few days

(Image credit: Sergione Infuso / Corbis via Getty Images)

Fronted by model/actress-turned-singer and rhythm guitarist Taylor Momsen, The Pretty Reckless formed in New York City in 2009. With their critically praised fourth album, 2021’s Death By Rock And Roll, the quartet ventured beyond alt.rock boundaries to embrace a more mature sound. Below, Momsen talks about the band’s current European tour as guests of AC/DC. 

How did you greet the news that The Pretty Reckless would be opening for AC/DC? 

One of the band members was driving when he heard, and he almost crashed his car [laughs]. Here’s a great story. Last November my agent asked me about touring. We were starting to make a record, and told him no – not unless AC/DC, The Who or the Rolling Stones called. Christmas and New Year passed, and we were in the studio. Then I get a text from Neil [Warnock, the agent] that says: ‘AC/DC, plus The Pretty Reckless. All [European] shows.’ And I go: ‘Oh shit.’ So we put the record on hold, and I guess we are going on tour. 

That’s amazing. 

Yeah, but here’s the thing. A week ago, the Rolling Stones called too. We are playing a stadium with the Stones in Las Vegas, then flying to Germany to join a tour with AC/DC in the same week. My mind is truly blown. 

AC/DC’s audiences can be pretty unforgiving of support acts. Does that bother you? 

We just get up there and do our thing. In that sense we have the same ethic as AC/DC. We’re loud – almost a bar band at the core. I can’t control how others view or perceive us, so I’m not really worried. I get to play music and then watch my favourite band every night. What’s not to love? 

You quit acting for music at the age of fourteen. What was the reason? 

Being in bands and writing songs was something I’d done since before I could even remember, but finally I reached an age where I realised I could do it. It was a bit of a fight to quit my day job, but I did it and it was the best decision I ever made. 

There’s probably a type of person who thinks of you as ‘playing at’ music, rather than playing it. 

Actually, I think the hate and negativity has kind of gone away. I was on a TV show that was a hit across the world [Gossip Girl], but we’ve been a band for almost sixteen years, we’ve toured the world relentlessly and made four records. To all those people who doubted us… [laughs] did I mention we are touring with AC/DC? You don’t get an AC/DC tour for being on a television show. It comes from paying your dues.

Kim Thayil and Matt Cameron from Soundgarden both guested on The Pretty Reckless’s most recent album, Death By Rock And Roll, as did Audioslave’s Tom Morello. Do these elder statesmen offer advice? 

Not really. We just play music together. I don’t see music as a business. It really isn’t like that any more. 

The Death By Rock And Roll album seemed to take The Pretty Reckless up several levels. 

I really like all of our records, but Death By Rock And Roll is my favourite. 

Of the track Harley Darling, Classic Rock said: “If someone said this song had fallen off Neil Young’s Harvest sessions, you’d believe it.” 

That’s an amazing compliment. Thank you. 

When might we hear the follow-up?

The record’s on hold, but we’ll get right back on to it when we finish this tour. 

Our legendary older bands are retiring, and older heroes passing away – the latest, recently, was Dickey Betts from the Allman Brothers. 

That was devastating. We had Warren Haynes [former Allmans guitarist, now with Gov’t Mule] play on Back To The River from our record Who You Selling For [ 2016]. 

Do you feel a responsibility towards keeping rock’n’roll alive? 

Rock'n'roll is alive, and I need it to stay that way. So if I can contribute to that, it’s what I’m going to do.

The Pretty Reckless are currently supporting AC/DC in Europe, with London shows on July 3 and 7, and Dublin on August 17.