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idolatrybarbie · 1 year ago

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lust for a vampire

for my fifty follower celebration! @heareball asked: max phillips and prompt no. nine— "you look so pretty like this." title from the song. i am so sorry this ended up being like, gross. and long. thanks to @wannab-urs for the reassurance and beta. if you recognize the horror movies referenced in this fic i love you.

rating & word count: 4k words | explicit

warnings: very briefly mentioned drug use, sexually explicit content, more plot than porn, dubious consent question mark, supernatural stalking, blood and its consumption, pussy slapping (like once), orgasm denial, spit play ???, background sex work/stripping, physical altercation (not with max), vaginal fingering, pet names (sweet thing, honey, sweetheart), i changed how vampires work from bsb because my writing, my rules.

It’s late now. Another thirty minutes and you get to flick the switch to the overhead lights—on and off, on and off again. Closing time. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Then there’s bar cleanup, a little sweeping, some heavy mopping. Assuring that no one’s upchucked on the stone bust of sexy Dracula out front, or making one of your coworkers clean it up if they have.

You can’t say that this is exactly what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life: living in the slimy suburbs of a tourist trap border city, doubling as a bartender and host at a vampire-themed titty bar. Whatever. You suppose there are worse things. The patrons are usually so distracted by the girls that are actually naked that they leave you alone. The most you get is a grunted drink order, sometimes with an accompanying snort if the man ordering has just spent a little time in a bathroom stall with a bump of Big C.

Usually. Tonight, there’s a man at the corner of the bar who seems to be paying you attention in particular. He’s eyeing you more than Kali, the dancer spinning half nude on the main stage pole as crimson-coloured corn syrup slides down her body in waves.

You noticed him right away. He looks nothing like your regulars; usually sex and death goth chicks and their annoying boyfriends, or black metal listeners who could use a good shower…or three. No, the man at the bar is unlike anyone you’ve ever seen walk in here before. A tailored suit jacket strains slightly against the breadth of his shoulders, waistcoat unbuttoned as he sits sipping at his third whiskey and coke. His hair is slicked yet stylishly tousled. The glint in his eye tells you that he knows he looks good. Cocky, then.

Mercy saunters up to him with a sway in her hips, skin as pale as the moon outside. She bleaches her hair to white twice a month, keeping it shorter to handle the damage. The woman is a vampire in the flesh if you’ve ever seen one, clad in crimson lace as she lays a hand of finely manicured claws on his shoulder.

Mercy leans into him, whispering something softly into his ear. At first, you can’t gauge his reaction, watching the exchange out of the corner of your eye. You’re torn between him shaking his head and telling her to get lost, or happily obliging to let her take him for a private show.

He seems to be considering it, too, eventually nodding with a bright smile. You can’t look at his mouth as he does, teeth too bright for the low light. It looks like they almost glow. He and Mercy disappear to the back, finding one of the empty private rooms to take their business. You finish polishing another rack of glasses before a customer flags you down for a refill.

You don’t see the man when you announce last call, or again before you’re locking the doors behind the last couple of stragglers. The girls are in the back already, taking off their makeup and packing up to head home. You give the bar another good wipe down as Martin and Phil take the dirty glasses to the back. When the bar is adequate in its cleanliness, you get started on spraying down the tables. Louis is mopping both stages, the sudsy water of the industrial pale turning black from the sweat, spit, and fake blood.

Closing at three o’clock, the lot of you get out at almost four-thirty in the morning. The light of dawn hasn’t quite hit the horizon, the moon missing from the sky behind clouds of city smog. The streets are truly dark. You navigate through the alley behind the club, passing a twin pair of Dumpsters.

It must have rained while you were inside, the sidewalk wet with remnants of it. Puddles pool in the corners of the road. If you were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, this scene might be a little concerning. This is the part where the killer emerges, silent but deadly behind the wisp of a girl as she walks the streets alone. The situation isn’t exactly safe, per say. Definitely not ideal. It isn’t your fault that the closest lot with free parking is four blocks away.

You are no wisp, and this is no monster movie. This is a Saturday night like any other.

Or, well, it’s supposed to be. Turning another corner, you come upon Mercy standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Still clad in her outfit from the club, she notices you almost immediately. You stop yourself, processing what it is you’re looking at. Darkness stains half of her silky lingerie, and in this lighting you can’t tell if it’s real or fake.

Mercy sways where she stands, eyes narrowing the slightest before her face softens, an agreeable smile pulling at her lips. Her six inch heels clop against the concrete as she closes the short distance between the two of you.

“Mercy?” you ask. “What are you doing out here?”

“Hey baby,” she drawls.

“Is everything okay?”

“Much better now,” Mercy smiles. Her teeth are stained red. All of this blood…is it hers?

“What happened? Did someone do something to you?”

Your pulse is racing as you dart your eyes around the street. It remains empty spare you and her, your eyes telling you that the coast is clear. Still, the situation feels off. Mercy is still smiling as your stomach roils in your gut. When she sways a little too far to the right, you grab ahold of her arm, looping it around your shoulder.

“We’ll get you back to my car, okay?” you ask.

Mercy takes a couple of steps with you before the axis of the world changes. No, wait. Only the axis of you. The dancer has you pressed to the hard, clumpy brick of a building. Her arm sits over your neck, putting pressure on your windpipe. You claw at her arm, scratching at the milky white of her skin. It’s no use. Mercy is putting those self-defense classes to good use trying to choke you out right now.

She moves in closer to your face, nosing at your jaw down to the side of your neck.

“Smells so good. I just need…a little bit,” Mercy breathes into your ear.

“No,” is the only word you can press past your lips.

“It’ll only hurt a little, honey,” she continues, voice dripping with sweetness. It’s the one she uses with clients, a tone that’s pulled thousands of dollars of cash from the eager wallets of horny bastards. “Then, it’s going to feel so, so good.”

As your vision speckles, Mercy licks a long, wet stripe along the skin of your neck. Something about the action sets you off; the pre-emptive finality of it activates your survival instincts as you bring a knee up to her gut. The blow winds her. Mercy pushes herself off of you to clutch at her stomach, a frustrated growl ripping itself from her throat.

“That wasn’t very nice, bitch,” she mutters.

You take off down the street, praying to whatever god that Mercy’s newfound kink for street violence hasn’t instilled in her the ability to sprint in Pleasers. You’re so close now; the lot where your Chevy sedan has been parked and baking since dinnertime is finally in sight. Air isn’t quite reaching your lungs as fast as you need it, the world around you hazey as you continue to run to your car.

Blinking, the parking lot is gone when you open your eyes again. Someone’s dropped a black curtain in front of you—or so you think. When you collide chest-first with a man on the sidewalk, you recontextualize. You were staring at the shoulder of his suit jacket.

Another moment passes as you realize just who the man is. Three-piece, from the club. The man who sat at the bar making eyes at you all night long. Tonight must be a cosmic punishment.

“Hey, whoa there.” He holds his hands out, almost in surrender. Concern blankets his features as he looks you over. “Everything alright?”

“Look, I really don’t have time—”

You stop yourself, sucking in frantic gasps of air. Grabbing onto the nearest wall, you brace yourself as you cough and choke on oxygen. The stranger watches you, then glances down the street the way you came. It seems his critical thinking skills have kicked in.

“Is someone following you?” he asks.

“My crazy fucking coworker…” you start, “has taken up casual street assault.”

“Let’s get you out of here, alright? Is your car nearby?”

You nod, pushing yourself up and off the wall. He guides you across the street to your car, standing with you as you sift through your bag for the keys. When you find them, you turn to the man.

“Well, thanks.”

“Not a problem at all,” he says. Slowly, he turns to walk away. Then you remember how many drinks you served him earlier.

“Hey, do you want a ride home?” Bad idea. Bad idea.

The man turns around and faces you once again. “I’m alright,” he says.

Three whiskey and cokes, a couple of shots, and whatever might have gone out to his private room that you hadn’t been able to keep track of.

“It’s not a hassle,” you shrug.

This is better. You would rather drive to a stranger’s house at dawn and drop him off than have him pass out somewhere in the street—or worse, let him try to drive home and end up hurting someone.

You tell him your name. He says his name is Max. The two of you get into your car. Buckling your seatbelt, you ask, “Maxwell? Or Maximillion?”

“Just Max.”

You hum. “Straight to the point.”

“I try to be.”

The car starts with minimal fanfare and you pull out of the parking lot. You scan the streets for any sign of Mercy, but come up empty in your search. You’re too tired to think about her or the odd encounter anymore.

“So what draws someone like you to a place like that?” you ask, referring to the club.

“Someone like me?” Max asks.

“Come on, look at you. The suit? You look like you’re fresh off the trading floor.”

“Not quite. Mergers and acquisitions,” he says.

“Point still stands,” you say. “What brings you to a gothic striptease?”

Max shrugs beside you. “Reminds me of college, I guess.”

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your mouth. The strange answer does nothing to satisfy your lingering curiosity, but you focus back on the road. Max tells you when to turn and which streets to take, leading you out of town. Twenty minutes into your drive, you realize he’s guiding you past the university and over the connecting bridge.

“Lewiston?” you ask, glancing at him. Max is already staring at you, eyes softening when they meet yours.

“It’s quaint,” he says.

And he’s right. When you pull into the driveway of his house, you momentarily wonder if you’ve arrived at the wrong address. Max doesn’t share the hesitance, getting out of the car and rounding the front to meet you at the driver’s side window. You roll it down, letting him duck his head in the slightest bit.

Max leans his forearms against the opening in the door. “Thanks for the ride,” he says. And then he’s offering to let you come inside, grab a coffee before you hit the road again.

You want to say no—should, considering how late (early?) it is. Glancing at the clock on your dashboard, you look up at Max to politely decline, but can’t summon the words. There’s something about his eyes, dark and wondrous as they stare. He doesn’t blink, waiting on your answer.

“A coffee couldn’t hurt,” you say. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

Max steps away from the door to let you get out. It closes with a solid thud, and then he’s leading you up to the front steps of his home. He doesn’t reach for any keys, simply turning the knob and pushing the door open. You barely make note of this, too distracted by his presence and the walls of his front hallway.

Everything in here seems perfect, the cutesy makings of a home somewhere in the countryside. And yet that’s what makes it totally out of place; the floral wallpaper, the simple wooden frames holding photos of faces you can’t quite parse in the dark. Maybe you’re letting outdated stereotypes get the better of you, but someone like Max would usually be living in a sleek, stainless steel cavern—not Little House on the Prairie.

Like he can read your mind, he says, “This isn’t my usual decor. It was my grandmother’s house.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Sorry for your loss.”

Max shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave as he turns left and mills about a small yellow kitchen. “She was old. It happens. I’m in town to settle up some things, see what ends up happening to this place.”

“So you aren’t from around here,” you say.

Back turned to you, the laugh he lets out shakes his broad shoulders the slightest bit. “You caught me,” Max says.

“Between condolences and meetings with lawyers, you find solace watching naked women cover themselves in blood?”

He’s facing you again. The coffee has started to brew, steam rising from the machine as the warm smell of arabica greets your nose.

“Something like that,” he says. “What about you? The bartending life all that they say it is?”

“It’s alright.” You lean in the doorway, never quite stepping into the kitchen. “Not as terrible as other places.”

“But you aren’t fulfilled,” Max says for you.

“Things could be worse.”

“Hm,” is all he gives you.

Max gets two mugs out of his grandmother’s cupboards, filling them both when the coffee is done a few silent minutes later. He closes the distance between the counter and where you stand to hand one to you. Then he sits at the short table wedged in against the wall. The implication to sit down with him settles over you, but Max doesn’t say anything.

He’s waiting because he knows that you will. Deep down, you know it too.

When you cross over the threshold into the room, the world shifts. Only slightly, barely noticeable with the porcelain burning in your palm. You take the seat across from Max and set the coffee down.

“How is it?” he asks, nodding at it.

“Good,” you say. Neither of you have taken a sip of the stuff.

Max’s hand is on the table, resting on a doily next to his own mug. He asks, “What’s got a woman like you walking the streets at night all alone?”

“Free parking,” you say.

His lip twitches. “That all?”

“Fourteen dollars a night adds up when you work six times a week.”

“No, I mean,” Max says, “that can’t be it.”

His hand is closer to your own now. You aren’t sure when it moved. The proximity of his skin to yours sets your pulse racing again; instinct kicking in once more.

“Small town, lots of tourists. People from all over the world in and out of there all the time. You’re sure to come across some scary characters.”

“When you’re the one plying ‘em with alcohol, it’s a little different. Don’t wanna bite the hand that feeds,” you say. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” Max agrees. He uses his pointer finger to draw a line along the length of your thumb. His touch is ice cold. The contact makes you shiver.

“I don’t scare easy,” you continue, heart in your throat now.

“Is that right?” he asks.

You can’t tell what he means by that. You move to grab the mug before you, finally taking a sip to avoid answering the question. The brew is acrid. This close to your nose, it smells like lemons and bleach. Frowning into the mug, you look up at Max again. His chair sits empty.

Your brain can’t catch up with your eyes. Suddenly, something is pressing into your back, and for the second time tonight you find yourself pinned to an unfamiliar wall. Max is gentler than Mercy, a single hand at your shoulder to press you against the peeling paint behind you.

You open your mouth to say something, anything at all. Please don’t kill me. The coffee’s fine, I swear.

“Aw, don’t be scared,” he says, low and close to your ear. The words rumble in his chest, something like a purr against your ribcage.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whisper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Max says. “You look so pretty like this.”

“What do you want?”

“What do you want?” he asks, turning the question around. “I’ve watched you… I know you, sweetheart. This isn’t the life you want, is it? Certainly not the life you deserve.”

Despite yourself, you start to lean a little into his body; aching cold against your broiling warmth. Your neck and forehead are damp with sweat.

“I can give you all you’ve ever wanted,” Max says. “Remake you and your life. Never grow old. Never die.”

It’s fun to be a vampire. Yeah, you’ve seen that nineties movie too.

All night, you’ve been missing the forest for the trees. Mercy and her frantic, violent behaviour; the stains that soaked her lingerie. Max sidling up to the bar again, out of place and yet perfectly suited to the grimey, bleeding environment.

“Max…” you breathe.

“All you have to do is say yes,” he says.

This man is overwhelming, breathing down your neck and nosing along your jaw. He’s not pinning you to the wall anymore. You’ve elected to stay here. Thoughts are hard to manage, everything covered in a thick fog. His presence is intoxicating, and you have a feeling that’s on purpose.

All girls don’t want bad boys, and yet you feel yourself caving. An answer sits on the tip of your tongue. If only you could spit out the goddamn words…

“Please,” you say.

“And she’s polite with it too. Sweet thing.” Max’s cool thumb drags across your cheek. “What do you need?”

“Anything. Everything, please.”

God, this is pathetic. In your right mind this scene would make you sick, but at this moment you can’t help it. You are a wound all over, easing into Max’s soothing touch. He can fix this—fix you, needy and wanting in this lovely little home. It’s all you want; all you’ve ever wanted.

Max kisses your neck once, twice before he pulls away. His right hand wraps around your ribs to support you, the other trailing up and over your stomach, your sternum. He splays his fingers across your clavicle, feeling the heat of your skin. His touch is bleak, sapping the warmth from your body.

You can’t tell if it’s his voice or your own echoing in your ears. What draws someone like you to a place like this? But what kind of place is this exactly?

Max shreds the front of your shirt, the sparkly white logo of the strip club torn in two as the fabric hangs limply off your body. With no bra underneath, he has free access to fondle your breast. His cold hand over your heart makes you shiver.

Kissing down your chest, he still holds your side, even as he crouches in front of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch as Max kisses at either of your hips before making quick work of the button and zipper of your jeans. You pull at his hair, needing him up here. Truly, you need him everywhere; to consume you and warp you beyond identification. Go ahead and make you something new.

“Max, please,” you whine.

He licks a line from your stomach to the dip between your neck and collarbones, cold air catching at the saliva in the absence of his tongue. Then he’s face to face with you again, smiling. Max slides his hands into your pants and tuts lightly. You’re wet, and he can feel it. Embarassment floods you, making you squirm.

“Oh honey, relax. It’s only natural,” he says.

Max rubs at you over your panties, lightly grazing your clit through the fabric with each pass. It’s gentle. It isn’t what you need.

You grip his arm harshly. No matter what he is, it hurts. A little bit of something flashes in his eyes, coming and going too quickly. Something you need.

“Give me what I want,” you demand softly.

“This what you want, huh?” Max asks.

He shoves his fingers past the band of your panties, the pads of his fingers brushing hard against you. Two of them find your clit, circling over it deliciously. Still, this isn’t enough. You whimper with a shake of your head.

“Oh no, sweetheart. That’s not it,” Max says knowingly. He’s teasing and it’s killing you. “Want these, huh?”

As he asks, Max bares his teeth at you; long and intimidating, the enamel looks sharp and pointy. Seeing them has you canting your hips up into his hand.

“Bite me,” you gasp. “Bite me, bite me, please.”

His fingers on you move impossibly faster, hedging you towards the edge at a lightning pace. Heat spreads from between your thighs outwards, creeping up through your stomach, your arms, your fingertips. It’s a struggle to keep yourself upright against the wall.

Max returns his mouth to your neck, sucking and licking at your skin. You close your eyes and wait, expecting the heavy hammer of pain to fall on you soon, orgasm just out of reach. Instead, he tugs your underwear down a little further in your jeans, cupping you in his hand. He slaps your cunt once, drawing your attention back to him.

“Look,” Max says. “Pay attention now.”

Then he continues his ministrations, fingers on your clit again. You open your mouth to groan. It’s then that he bites you, catching you off guard. The pain is searing, so hot that it’s cold underneath your skin. You can feel the length of his fangs where they dig deep into flesh.

Blood rushes from the punctures immediately, trailing in a thick stream down your body. Max gulps as he drinks it down, hand still working you over. Your orgasm drowns you, an unforgiving wave. It hurts, stomach clenching at the sensations that wrack your body. There is no air left in your lungs, all of it punched out by the pain. He’s holding your head underwater.

What kind of place is this? A very, very bad one. Strawberry Shortcake’s den of iniquity. You’re bleeding out surrounded by dainty floral wallpaper and a man—monster—that’s going to eat you alive.

You slump between the wall and Max’s chest as he withdraws his teeth from you. Blood pumps out of your carotid artery in a steady pace, another gush with each beat of your heart. It pools on the white tile of the floor. Everything is red and slippery.

Max bites into the flesh of his wrist and brings it to your lips. With the little strength you have left, you grip his arm and hold it against your mouth. You drink what slowly flows from his veins. Max’s blood is cold against your tongue, going down like a shot of cheap tequila.

“There you go, sweetheart. That feel better, hm?” he asks.

When he’s sure you’ve swallowed, he tips your head back gingerly. His face over yours, Max purses his lips. He lets spit gather between them before pushing it out of his mouth, pulling yours open with his thumb to catch it. The saliva, mixed with your own blood, slides coolly against your tongue.

You’re dying, probably. Maybe you’re already dead. Doesn’t matter, really.

Max is here. He has remade you.

#pedrostories #max phillips #max phillips x reader #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips fanfiction #pedro pascal #50 followers

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muteddreamssilentscreams · 2 years ago

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Thoughts I had while watching the IMAX livestream of the Jingle Ball show today

Okay Jax can really sing

Who the fuck is JVKE... oh this song

God I'd let Dove do disgraceful things to me. Holy shit she's doing the Lil Nas X cover!!!! These dancers really are the moment. Should I dress up as Jingle Ball Dove Cameron for Halloween??

Red Carpet Ad Break: Jenna Ushkowitz and Kevin McHale being real life besties is so fun. Dove is so iconic, ugh. Omg HeMo! Becca Tilley! Becca tilleys cohost!(😂) Amanda Kloots!

Is...is Ava Max lip syncing? Like I think she kinda is. Okay she's singing some but lip syncing a lot. 🤷🏾��♀️

This experience is just reminding me of the time my mom wouldn't let me skip ONE middle school band concert to go to the JingleBall concert even though she'd already bought the tickets 🫠🙃

Ava is on but I'm literally still thinking about Dove stepping on me with those boots 🥵👢

Second time "seeing" Lauv this year hehe. Poor thing is sicky and still killing it. His look is giving a little Aaron Carter?

I feel kinda bad that JVKE only got to sing one song. Does he only have one song? Hmm.

Lauv is such a good performer. And he's hitting all the HITS. I wonder what he'll finish with. I bet I Like Me Better. Yeah, of course, how could he not.

LIIIIVVIING FOR ALL THE WOMEN IN SUITS TONIGHT

Did they just repeatedly misgender Demi or did I miss something? Okay, I literally researched this while she sang Sorry Not Sorry because I could NOT believe they would do that and apparently she's been using she/they pronouns so we good fam 👌🏾🫡 Now I can focus again. Why does their audio sound so much muddier than everyone else? Demi is ROCKING tonight.

Red Carpet Ad Break: OMG LIZZO IS GOING TO BE HERE? lol Martha Stewart is so awkward. Y'all she makes he grandkids call her MARTHA. I actually admire that part though.

How long is this whole thing gonna be I wonder. Was gonna hit up Trader Joe's tonight 🤔

Are two of the AJR brothers twins? Because the third one looks so different lol. The horn player is SLAYING this set!!!!! And okay yes when they hit the drop for Weak I smiled so big. It was joyous. But the run off stage and return with instruments was unnecessary and I kinda hated it.

Lizzo!!! Not the nails!

Okay everyone saying MSG is fucking s e n d i n g me

Why ARE men great until they gotta be great??? She really said something with that line guys.

Hell yeah BSB 2000 BREAK IT DOWN NOW!!! The boys still got it y'all. 29 fucking years damn. Uhh they have Christmas music?? Wow. The all white outfits are really working for me. Okay I would've ended on I Want it That Way but their choreo for Larger than Life is very impressive.

Red Carpet Ad Break: okay I'm over these. Let's just get to the music.

Wow Tate McCrae looks so much like Mackenzie Ziegler.

Lol not The Kid LAROI being tired of singing Stay 🤣 like I get it but you can't say it. The acoustic set was a nice change of pace and showed of his voice so well. Okay but his guitarist kinda slays.

Is Dua gonna close the show? Because that would rule

OMG Katie Holmes looks gorgeous. Okay she sucked at presenting though...

So... I guess the person in all the red carpet ad breaks I thought was Charlie Puth is not Charlie Puth because this is Charlie Puth. And he's adorable wow.

People are showing up to the theater 4 hours in?

Charlie has way too much confidence in this crowd lol its cute. Do I have a crush on Charlie Puth? Interesting, I thought the eyebrow notch was a stylistic choice but I think he just has a scar.

Red Carpet Ad Break: Zoey Duetch is so right--DUA LIPA SLAYS. And she loves to eat--FRIED POTATOES ALSO SLAY. omg hi Dove!

I'm dead at this guy in the theater he hates the ad break jingle so much but he screams when the audio goes out. Sir what do you want??

Hell yeah, it's Dua time. And she's giving HAIR. Wait this is my second time "seeing" her this year too! I'm sorry the Dua umbrella dance break 😲😍 oh and now a chair dance 😍🥵 Incredible. What a closer!!

Okay y'all the people who came in 4 hours late were actually there to see Black Panther that was supposed to start at 8:15...and Jingle Ball didn't end until 9 😳 well at least they got to see Dua, that was incredible.

In closing: can't believe I almost didn't come to this because I thought 30 bucks was too much. Didn't know I'd be there for 5 hours but it was so worth it. Loads of artists I'd never go see in concert alone and they of course played the HITS. Non stop bops? Yes please! This healed my childhood trauma of not getting to go hahaha. It's too late for Trader Joes now but that's okay we're having McDonald's tonight!!

If you read this all, you deserve an award... so, here you go 🏆

Peace and love my friends, happy holidays ✌🏾

#jax #jvke #dove cameron #ava max #lauv #demi lovato #ajr #lizzo #backstreet boys #the kid laroi #charlie puth #dua lipa #iheart #iheartradio #jingle ball #z100 #chaos brain #live tweeting #but like 12 hours latergram style

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daydream-comet · 1 year ago

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Absolutely agree on grev ruining her purpose. Most of the time she felt obsolete and made fun of, esp the cooking part like where did that come from? She had enough knowledge about cooking in that one barbeque ep in v force and was giving everyone instructions on what to do. And like being a person who likes cooking a lot, I can tell by her mannerisms that she indeed DOES know how to cook (okay, let me stop here, or else I might go on a rant about cooking xD).

And yess she definitely deserved a backstory. Like vforce starts with having already established that hiromi, kyoju and takao are classmates and hiromi being the strict and studious class president, so timeline wise it might make sense that takao and hiromi were also childhood friends (kinda like how valt and shu are in beyburst) and we know that before s1 takao didnt have any close friends except people who he had battles with (like Akira etc.) so like there's a missed opportunity right there. And like we could get to know more about her interests like in the fortune-telling books too, what got her into it? Why does a practical-minded person like her has a thing for the supernatural/paranormal? It makes her more human and realistic in a way.

And yes she DID deserve a beyblading arc, like what traits of a blader does she doesn't have? And despite the fact that her views on beyblading were initially not pleasant, though still justified, she was humble enough to see it from the boys' point of view and even learn about it, and lets not forget her regime was the one that helped the team master the magnacore system. (And her advice is a good one from an academic point of view as well, if you don't know the basics well enough cough maths cough you can't progress further and will fumble in the long run. Like I did once :P). And she definetly helped takao with his patience problem. Mentioning the barbeque ep once again, she knew everyone was a bit tensed at that time (I mean who wouldn't be, they saw someone die) and she knew a bit of relaxation was needed. She made all cook together, and she knew food would calm them down, esp takao who LOVES food. And guess what she was right and we later see takao, max and rei apologise to each other.

And yea the dynamic was wayy better in v force than in grev (can I just say grev ruined rei and takao's friendship? Like from that teary-eyed handholding passing-the-torch scene in the s1 finale to that is just....meh) and dare I say that Zeo was a well written character, like their mentor-student/idol-admirer dynamic was fun to watch (also I wish we got mentor arcs in bsb like we got in beyburst, like there are snippets here and there but it'd be so cool and if someone like Hitoshi can be a coach then why can't they, Max would be a great coach along w Takao) and like a part of you like feels the string takao felt when Zeo abruptly left and then his sudden heel-turn and revelation. And Takao treating Daichi like his little brother was a far better dynamic than what we got in grev (I got why Takao acted the way he did, but still. that and grev never mentions daichi's backstory. Like if the movie is non-canon at least mention it in the canon one??? I do like grev but damn it has got a lot of flaws too). I think it also has to deal with the age differences w Takao being 14 in the movie and 15-16 ish in grev. Like its obvious that he'd see daichi as an annoying kid in grev while in the movie he's treating him more of like a young friend and being like "wow you dress like mogli" and basically teasing in a sibling-banter manner. Also I think the reason Takao sympathized with daichi is because he gets the pain and grief of losing a parent and having to fend for yourself on your own while trying to reach the top, hence why later on he is a lot more openly affectionate towards him and was the most concerned about saving him. (Also I find it both cute and funny that after daichi fainted from takao's spook at the cemetery takao dragged him back to their place instead of going back to the festival while at the same time being like "why me???")

And yes daichi was so much more well written in the movie. Like sure he wanted to beat takao and was on a goose chase but it wasn't exactly an obsession either. Like after takao brought him back he still stuck to them like a leech but wasn't really 'ruining their vacation' and instead joined them lol, eating food w them and joining them in the beach and thirdwheeling tyhil in the boat and basically being all like "oh alright you arent fighting me now lets fight later, meanwhile I'm gonna hitchhike a ride with you and won't stop haunting your very existence untill you do so. Now, where the food?" (I'd argue the movie should've been the canon start to s3. Oh, and that cave scene. I. HAVE. A. LOT. TO. TALK. ABOUT. THAT. CAVE. SCENE.)

Vforce deserves a lot lot more love than it gets, and its not fair calling it the worst season only for the lack of a proper world tournament while ignoring its hidden gems. Sure it has flaws, but you can see the effort put behind it and be like "yea atleast they tried, maybe something went wrong but atleast there was an attempt". And Hiromi was an amazingly well written character despite being an anime-only exclusive. And I definitely like the saint shields + Kane and Salima in the anime than in the manga.

Wow I've been talking for a while now 😅 sorry I'll stop here xD.

V-force Hiromi thank you for being the icon ever, being chaotic and silly (esp that punch like yas gurl throw hands!! <3) like the others while being the mom friend of the group and doing an actual good job at consoling Takao/keeping him in line while being mature about his feelings too, being a therapist to Kai and many more moments. She's basically the emotional stability the gang lacked previously. And lets not forget the boat scene in the movie when Daichi was telling Hiromi about how his dad died and why he was hell bent on beating Takao, her response was that of understanding as she got where Daichi was coming from as a kid who was trying to fullfill his father's last wish, that was very sweet of her ngl (Takao's response to Daichi's revelation was sweet too, in his own way. I might make another post on that. Personally I prefer their dynamic in the movie than in G-revolution tbh. Also the idea if the team randomly adopting a tiny homeless redheaded gremlin is wayy funnier, like "oh, he's not gonna leave us be, and he doesnt have a home to go back to, guess he's staying with us now huh. Welcome to the gang bud" *daichi proceeds to latch onto them like a leech*)

#bakuten shoot beyblade #beyblade v force #beyblade #takao kinomiya #tyson granger #hiromi tachibana #hilary tachibana #daichi sumeragi #max mizuhara #max tate #rei kon #comet's rambles

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artemiseamoon · 3 years ago

Text

You Too?

About: Max Phillips comes back home from Romania to find his little brother Eddie is also a vampire…

Big bro Max Phillips & little bro Eddie (btvs) (Edward “Eddie” Phillips)

An: I watched BSB again this morning for a laugh and bc I love it so much. Just getting this out to save for later when I write again.

❗️Warnings: Vampire stuff, blood, language cause Max

Max + PP list, if you don’t read things with Eddie in them, or vampire stuff (PP list) just skip the notification

When his mother said she was worried about Eddie, Max assumed the kid finally loosened up and was maybe sleeping off a ragging hangover from the night before.

It’s the point of college anyway, right? To get wasted and do what you want without your parents prying eyes?

Besides, Max had enough of his own shit to worry about. He was a fucking vampire, a vampire - well, it wasn’t so bad. After years in Romania he was pretty alright with it, being a vampire was actually bad ass.

But, he kept it from his family all this time and now he not only had to tell them, but he was send on an instant mission to Sunnydale to see why Eddie wasn’t returning calls.

It’s only been three days. But they always smothered Eddie anyway, Max was glad his brother picked a school farther away, maybe the kid could finally be himself out in the wild.

…

When Max arrived on campus, he could instantly sense something was off about this town. For one, the scent of vampires and demons was everywhere - he didn’t know how all these humans seemed so oblivious to it.

Max goes to eddies dorm room first, it’s as expected. Clean, nerdy, boring, full of books. But then he finds something weird. The scent of blood leads him to a well hidden mini fridge. When he opens it, he finds blood bags.

“What the fuck -?”

He quickly turns around and to see Eddie in the door way, a steak in his left hand. His brown eyes wide. Then relief washes over his face.

“Oh man,” Eddie exhales, “I thought a vampire broke into my room. Hey Max!”

Max crooks his brows. “Little bro.”

Eddie looks around and closes the door, “I still smell vampire though …I know I sound crazy just…so much happened since ….” He looks under the bed.

Max watches closely. He still smells vampire too, and it’s not his scent.

Then it hits him.

It’s Eddie.

Eddie is a goddamn vampire.

“Bro!” Max yells. Eddie jumps and twists to look back at Max with a startled look on his face, “they got you too?”

Confused, Eddie stands up, “what?”

“Vampires! You know, “ Max shows his fangs. Eddie unknowingly raises the steak and drops his fangs too, he quickly raises a hand to cover his mouth, “hey! Put that away.” Max takes the steak from his brother.

Max busts out laughing a second later at the shock of Eddie face, “you? A vampire? What the hell. I mean me, I get it. I’m cool, everyone want to bang me-“ Max goes over to the mini fridge and takes a blood bag. He taste it, then spits it out with disgust, “ how do you drink this shit?” He tosses it, Eddie catches the bag before it hits the floor, “but you? You’re like…book nerd. Anyway -“

“Could you lower your voice? I don’t really want the whole dorm to know I’m a vampire.” Eddie whispers the word.

Max shrugs, “own it dude. It might make you cooler! That’s shits gross, let’s go out and eat someone!” He nods with excitement.

Horrified, Eddie takes a step back, “no way.” He innocently drinks the rest of the blood bag.

Max plops down on the bed with a disappointed sigh, “only you can make being a vampire pg-13,” he looks around the room, “so, you tell mom?”

“Oh god, no,” panicking Eddie sits at his desk. The idea alone gives him anxiety, “no.”

“Cool,” Max grabs a pillow and tosses it at Eddie, “let’s just not tell her.”

“Yeah, sure. Good plan.” Eddie throws the pillow back, hitting Max in the face.

Max grins, “was that aggression I sensed? Ohhhh, maybe being a vampire will make you cooler.”

Eddie sighs and turns his desk light on, “I have to study. I have a test tomorrow.”

Max inmates him, “you’re the genius remember. I bet you can ace the test high as a kite. No studying. I’m bored, I came all the way out here. We are going out!”

…

My fellow Eddie fan / Eddie support group may like this @seasonschange-butpeopledont 💙

Max Phillips: @readsalot73 @waywardimpalawriter @phoenixhalliwell @anaaaispunk

Eddie @phoenixhalliwell

Pedro Pascal: @idreamofboobear @anxiousandboujee @evyiione @mummifymecaptain @seasonschange-butpeopledont @agirllovespancakes @justanotherblonde23 @bumblebee-moreno @salome-c @scarletsoldierrr @mswarriorbabe80 @absurdthirst @dihra-vesa @mrsparknuts

Self - add taglist in my bio & masterlists. My old lists are no longer used. Sign up there, or here. Or, comment below.

#max Phillips #max Phillips au #bloodsucking bastards #eddie buffy #Eddie btvs #eddie buffy the vampire slayer #artes mashups #vampire bros #pedro pascal character

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dailytomlinson · 4 years ago

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A bathroom figures significantly in the origin stories of at least two classic One Direction songs. The first will be familiar to any fan: Songwriter and producer Savan Kotecha was sitting on the toilet in a London hotel room, when he heard his wife say, “I feel so ugly today.” The words that popped into his head would shape the chorus of One Direction’s unforgettable 2011 debut, “What Makes You Beautiful.”

The second takes place a few years later. Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Liam got up to use the bathroom and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words…” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, what if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, what if [the next line was] ‘More than a feeling’? Well, that would actually be tight!”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live show staple. It’s a mid-tempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock and roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was re-defining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of boy band history. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted only did it once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatles-esque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, pop-y guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘N Sync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

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The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ��One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

One Direction famously finished third on The X Factor, but Cowell immediately signed them to his label, Syco Music. They’d gone through one round of artist development boot camp on the show, and another followed on an X Factor live tour in spring 2011. They’d developed an onstage confidence, but the studio presented a new challenge. “We had to create who should do what in One Direction,” Falk says. To solve the puzzle the band’s five voices presented, they chose the kitchen sink method and everyone tried everything.

“They were searching for themselves,” Falk adds. “It was like, Harry, let’s just record him; he’s not afraid of anything. Liam’s the perfect song starter, and then you put Zayn on top with this high falsetto. Louis found his voice when we did ‘Change Your Mind.’ It was a long trial for everyone to find their strengths and weaknesses, but that was also the fun part.” Falk also gave Niall some of his first real guitar lessons; there’s video of them performing “One Thing” together, still blessedly up on YouTube.

“What Makes You Beautiful” was released September 11th, 2011 in the U.K. and debuted at Number One on the singles chart there — though the video had dropped a month prior. While One Direction’s immediate success in the U.K. and other parts of Europe wasn’t guaranteed, the home field odds were favorable. European markets have historically been kinder to boy bands than the U.S.; ‘N Sync and Backstreet Boys found huge success abroad before they conquered home. To that end, neither Kotecha nor Falk were sure 1D would break in the U.S. Falk even says of conceiving the band’s sound, “We didn’t want it to sound too American, because this was not meant — for us, at least — to work in America. This was gonna work in the U.K. and maybe outside the U.K.”

Stoking anticipation for “What Makes You Beautiful” by releasing the video on YouTube before the single dropped, preceded the strategy Columbia Records (the band’s U.S. label) adopted for Up All Night. Between its November 2011 arrival in the U.K. and its U.S. release in March 2012, Columbia eschewed traditional radio strategies and built hype on social media. One Direction had been extremely online since their X Factor days, engaging with fans and spending their downtime making silly videos to share. One goofy tune, made with Kotecha, called “Vas Happenin’ Boys?” was an early viral hit.

“They instinctively had this — and it might just be a generational thing — they just knew how to speak to their fans,” Kotecha says. “And they did that by being themselves. That was a unique thing about these boys: When the cameras turned on, they didn’t change who they were.”

Social media was flooded with One Direction contests and petitions to bring the band to fans’ towns. Radio stations were inundated with calls to play “What Makes You Beautiful” long before it was even available. When it did finally arrive, Kotecha (who was in Sweden at the time) remembers staying up all night to watch it climb the iTunes chart with each refresh.

Take Me Home, was recorded primarily in Stockholm and London during and after their first world tour. The success of Up All Night had attracted an array of top songwriting talent — Ed Sheeran even penned two hopeless romantic sad lad tunes, “Little Things” and “Over Again” — but Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub grabbed the reins, collaborating on six of the album’s 13 tracks. In charting their course, Kotecha returned to his boy band history: “My theory was, you give them a similar sound on album two, and album three is when you start moving on.”

Still, there was the inherent pressure of the second album to contend with. The label wanted a “What Makes You Beautiful, Part 2,” and evidence that the 1D phenomenon wasn’t slowing down appeared outside the window of the Stockholm studio: so many fans, the street had to be shut down. Kotecha even remembers seeing police officers with missing person photos, combing through the girls camped outside, looking for teens to return to their parents.

At this pivotal moment, One Direction made it clear that they wanted a greater say in their artistic future. Kotecha admits he was wary at first, but the band was determined. To help manage the workload, Kotecha had brought in two young songwriters, Kristoffer Fogelmark and Albin Nedler, who’d arrived with a handful of ideas, including a chorus for a booming power ballad called “Last First Kiss.”

“We thought, while we’re busy recording vocals, whoever’s not busy can go write songs with these two guys, and then we’ll help shape them as much as we can,” Kotecha says. “And to our pleasant surprise, the songs were pretty damn good.”

At this pivotal moment, too, songwriters Julian Bunetta and John Ryan also met the band. Friends from the Berklee College of Music, Bunetta and Ryan had moved out to L.A. and cut a few tracks, but still had no hits to their name. They entered the Syco orbit after scoring work on the U.S. version of The X Factor, and were asked if they wanted to try writing a song for Take Me Home. “I was like, yeah definitely,” Bunetta says. “They sold five million albums? Hell yeah, I want to make some money.”

Working with Jamie Scott, who’d written two songs on Up All Night (“More Than This” and “Stole My Heart”), Bunetta and Ryan wrote “C’mon, C’mon” — a blinding hit of young love that rips down a dance pop speedway through a comically oversized wall of Marshall stacks. It earned them a trip to London. Bunetta admits to thinking the whole 1D thing was “a quick little fad” ahead of their first meeting with the band, but their charms were overwhelming. Everyone hit it off immediately.

“Niall showed me his ass,” Bunetta remembers of the day they recorded, “They Don’t Know About Us,” one of five songs they produced for Take Me Home (two are on the deluxe edition). “The first vocal take, he went in to sing, did a take, I was looking down at the computer screen and was like, ‘On this line, can you sing it this way?’ And I looked over and he was mooning me. I was like, ‘I love this guy!’”

Take Me Home dropped November 9th, just nine days short of Up All Night’s first anniversary. With only seven weeks left in 2012, it became the fourth best-selling album of the year globally, moving 4.4 million copies, per the IFPI; it fell short of Adele’s 21, Taylor Swift’s Red and 1D’s own Up All Night, which had several extra months to sell 4.5 million copies.

Kotecha, Falk and Yacoub’s tracks anchored the album. Songs like “Kiss You,” “Heart Attack” and “Live While We’re Young” were pristine pop rock that One Direction delivered with full delirium, vulnerability and possibility — the essence of the teen — in voices increasingly capable of navigating all the little nuances of that spectrum. And the songs 1D helped write (“Last First Kiss,” “Back for You” and “Summer Love”) remain among the LP’s best.

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

Like clockwork, the wheels began to churn for album three right after Take Me Home dropped. But unlike those first two records, carving out dedicated studio time for LP3 was going to be difficult — on February 23rd, 2013, One Direction would launch a world tour in London, the first of 123 concerts they’d play that year. They’d have to write and record on the road, and for Kotecha and Falk — both of whom had just had kids — that just wasn’t possible.

But it was also time for a creative shift. Even Kotecha knew that from his boy band history: album three is, after all, when you start moving on. One Direction was ready, too. Kotecha credits Louis, the oldest member of the group, for “shepherding them into adulthood, away from the very pop-y stuff of the first two albums. He was leading the charge to make sure that they had a more mature sound. And at the time, being in it, it was a little difficult for me, Rami and Carl to grasp — but hindsight, that was the right thing to do.”

“For three years, this was our schedule,” Bunetta says. “We did X Factor October, November, December. Took off January. February, flew to London. We’d gather ideas with the band, come up with sounds, hang out. Then back to L.A. for March, produce some stuff, then go out on the road with them in April. Get vocals, write a song or two, come back for May, work on the vocals, and produce the songs we wrote on the road. Back to London in June-ish. Back here for July, produce it up. Go back on tour in August, get last bits of vocals, mix in September, back to X Factor in October, album out in November, January off, start it all over again.”

That cycle began in early 2013 when Bunetta and Ryan flew to London for a session that lasted just over a week, but yielded the bulk of Midnight Memories. With songwriters Jamie Scott, Wayne Hector and Ed Drewett they wrote “Best Song Ever” and “You and I,” and, with One Direction, “Diana” and “Midnight Memories.” Bunetta and Ryan’s initial rapport with the band strengthened — they were a few years older, but as Bunetta jokes, “We act like we’re 19 all the time anyway.” Years ago, Bunetta posted an audio clip documenting the creation of “Midnight Memories” — the place-holder chorus was a full-throated, perfectly harmonized, “I love KFC!”

For the most part, Bunetta, Ryan and 1D doubled down on the rock sound their predecessors had forged, but there was one outlier from that week. A stunning bit of post-Mumford festival folk buoyed by a new kind of lyrical and vocal maturity called “Story of My Life.”

“This was a make or break moment for them,” Bunetta says. “They needed to grow up, or they were gonna go away — and they wanted to grow up. To get to the level they got to, you need more than just your fan base. That song extended far beyond their fan base and made people really pay attention.”

Production on Midnight Memories continued on the road, where, like so many bands before them, One Direction unlocked a new dimension to their music. Tour engineer Alex Oriet made it possible, Ryan says, building makeshift vocal booths in hotel rooms by flipping beds up against the walls. Writing and recording was crammed in whenever — 20 minutes before a show, or right after another two-hour performance.

“It preserved the excitement of the moment,” Bunetta says. “We were just there, doing it, marinating in it at all times. You’re capturing moments instead of trying to recreate them. A lot of times we’d write a song, sing it in the hotel, produce it, then fly back out to have them re-sing it — and so many times the demo vocals were better. They hadn’t memorized it yet. They were still in the mood. There was a performance there that you couldn’t recreate.”

Midnight Memories arrived, per usual, in November 2013. And, per usual, it was a smash. The following year, 1D brought their songs to the environment they always deserved — stadiums around the world — and amid the biggest shows of their career, they worked on their aptly-titled fourth album Four. The 123 concerts 1D had played the year before had strengthened their combined vocal prowess in a way that opened up an array of new possibilities.

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“They were so much more dynamic and subtle, too,” Bunetta adds. “I don’t think they could’ve pulled off a song like ‘Night Changes’ two albums prior; or the nuance to sing soft and emotionally on ‘Fireproof.’ It takes a lot of experience to deliver a restrained vocal that way.”

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” ��No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

“I think that on Four,” Bunetta says with a slight pause, “there were some tensions going on. A lot of the songs were double — like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

He continues: “It’s tough going through that age, having to spread your wings with so many eyeballs on you, so much money and no break. It was tough for them to carve out their individual manhood, space and point of view, while learning how to communicate with each other. Even more than relationship things that were going on, that was the bigger blanket that was in there every day, seeping into the songs.”

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Fucking amazing,” he says. “They were fucking awesome. I know creatively he wasn’t getting what he needed from the way that the albums were being made on the road. He wanted to lock himself in the studio and take his time, be methodical. And that just wasn’t possible.”

A month or so later, and 16 shows into One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour, Zayn left the band. Bunetta and Ryan agree it wasn’t out of the blue: “He was frustrated and wanted to do things outside of the band,” Bunetta says. “It’s a lot for a young kid, all those shows. We’d been with them for a bunch of years at this point — it was a matter of when. You just hoped that it would wait until the last album.”

Still, Bunetta compares the loss to having a finger lopped off, and he acknowledges that Harry, Niall, Liam and Louis struggled to find their bearings as One Direction continued with their stadium tour and next album, Made in the A.M. Just as band tensions bubbled beneath the songs on Four, Zayn’s departure left an imprint on Made in the A.M. Not with any overt malice, but a song like “Drag Me Down,” Bunetta says, reflects the effort to bounce back. Even Niall pushing his voice to the limits of his range on that song wouldn’t have been necessary if Zayn and his trusty falsetto were available.

But Made in the A.M. wasn’t beholden to this shake-up. Bunetta and Ryan cite “Olivia” as a defining track, one that captures just how far One Direction had come as songwriters: They’d written it in 45 minutes, after wasting a whole day trying to write something far worse.

“When you start as a songwriter, you write a bunch of shitty songs, you get better and you keep getting better,” Ryan says. “But then you can get finicky and you’re like, ‘Maybe I have to get smart with this lyric.’ By Made in the A.M. … they were coming into their own in the sense of picking up a guitar, messing around and feeling something, rather than being like, ‘How do I put this puzzle together?’”

After Zayn’s departure, Bunetta and Ryan said it became clear that Made in the A.M. would be One Direction’s last album before some break of indeterminate length. The album boasts the palpable tug of the end, but to One Direction’s credit, that finality is balanced by a strong sense of forever. It’s literally the last sentiment they leave their fans on album-closer “History,” singing, “Baby don’t you know, baby don’t you know/We can live forever.”

In a way, Made in the A.M. is about One Direction as an entity. Not one that belonged to the group, but to everyone they spent five years making music for. Four years since their hiatus and 10 years since their formation, the fans remain One Direction’s defining legacy. Even as all five members have settled into solo careers, Ryan notes that baseless rumors of any kind of reunion — even a meager Zoom call — can still set the internet on fire. The old songs remain potent, too: Carl Falk says his nine-year-old son has taken to making TikToks to 1D tracks.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

There are plenty of metrics to quantify One Direction’s reach, success and influence. The hard numbers — album sales and concert stubs — are staggering on their own, but the ineffable is always more fun. One Direction was such a good band that a fan, half-jokingly, but then kinda seriously, started a GoFundMe to buy out their contract and grant them full artistic freedom. One Direction was such a good band that songwriters like Kotecha and Falk — who would go on to make hits with Ariana Grande, the Weeknd and Nicki Minaj — still think about the songs they could’ve made with them. One Direction was such a good band that Mitski covered “Fireproof.”

But maybe it all comes down to the most ineffable thing of all: Chance. Kotecha compares success on talent shows like The X Factor to waking up one morning and being super cut — but now, to keep that figure, you have to work out at a 10, without having done the gradual work to reach that level. That’s the downfall for so many acts, but One Direction was not only able, but willing, to put in the work.

“They’re one of the only acts from those types of shows that managed to do it for such a long time,” Kotecha says. “Five years is a long time for a massive pop star to go nonstop. I know it was tiring, but they were fantastic sports about it. They appreciated and understood the opportunity they had — and, as you can see, they haven’t really stopped since. Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing. To have these boys — that had been sort of randomly picked — to also have that? It will never be repeated.”

#rolling stone #ROLLING STONE SAID ROCK BAN SO ITS A ROCK B AND PERIDOT #220720 #10years1d #one direction

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stylesnews · 4 years ago

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“The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” says Carl Falk

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The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ‘One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

“A lot of the songs were double,” Bunetta says, “like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” “No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

“Most of them weren’t necessarily musicians before this happened, but they loved music, and they found a love of creating, writing and playing,” Kotecha says

#rollingstone #july20 #10years1d

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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

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You are writing for Mando, Ezra and Whiskey based on the sneak peeks, so would you ever write for any other PP characters? Max Phillips comes to mind, and you writing Javier would be SO GOOD.

Hi, anon. Um. Well. Max would be a ton of fun to write, just because he’s so silly and has a really good sense of humor (I think) ... so maybe. I’d need to watch BSB again before I even attempted to do that, and it would probably be just a smutty, funny one shot. And as for Javi? There are Things going on inside my head for him, but I want to finish Whiskey and finish Magnetic before I even begin putting (more) ideas down for it. But I have a definite idea and a definite plan for Javier Pena. A Hint or three? - It’s an AU

- It takes place in modern times

- It’s not in Colombia

#ask something tofightfor #thanks anon #Pedro pascal characters #Javier Peña #agent whiskey #mando #din djarin #Ezra #writing

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

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The second takes place a few years later: Another hotel room in England — this one in Manchester — where songwriters and producers Julian Bunetta and John Ryan were throwing back Cucumber Collins cocktails and tinkering with a beat. Liam Payne was there, too. At one point, Payne got up to use the bathroom, and when he re-emerged, he was singing a melody. They taped it immediately. Most of it was mumbled — a temporary placeholder — but there was one phrase: “Better than words …” A few hours later, on the bus to another city, another show — Bunetta and Ryan can’t remember where — Payne asked, maybe having a laugh, “What if the rest of the song was just lyrics from other songs?”

“Songs in general, you’re just sort of waiting for an idea to bonk you on the head,” Ryan says from a Los Angeles studio, with Bunetta. “And if you’re sort of winking at it, laughing at it — we were probably joking, ‘What if [the next line was] “More than a feeling”? Well, that would actually be tight!’”

“Better Than Words,” closed One Direction’s third album, Midnight Memories. It was never a single, but became a fan-favorite live-show staple. It’s a midtempo headbanger that captures the essence of what One Direction is, and always was: One of the great rock & roll bands of the 21st century.

July 23rd marks One Direction’s 10th anniversary, the day Simon Cowell told Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, and Louis Tomlinson that they would progress on The X Factor as a group. Between that date and their last live performance (so far, one can hope) on December 31st, 2015, they released five albums, toured the world four times — twice playing stadiums — and left a trove of Top 10 hits for a devoted global fan base that came to life at the moment social media was redefining the contours of fandom.

It’d been a decade since the heyday of ‘NSync and Backstreet Boys, and the churn of generations demanded a new boy band. One Direction’s songs were great and their charisma and chemistry undeniable, but what made them stick was a sound unlike anything else in pop — rooted in guitar rock at a time when that couldn’t have been more passé.

Kotecha, who met 1D on The X Factor and shepherded them through their first few years, is a devoted student of the history of boy bands. He first witnessed their power back in the Eighties, when New Kids on the Block helped his older sister through her teens. The common thread linking all great boy bands, from New Kids to BSB, he says, is, “When they’d break, they’d come out of nowhere, sounding like nothing that’s on the radio.”

In 2010, Kotecha remembers, “everybody was doing this sort of Rihanna dance pop.” But that just wasn’t a sound One Direction could pull off (the Wanted did it only once); and famously, they didn’t even dance. Instead, the reference points for 1D went all the way back to the source of contemporary boy bands.

“Me and Simon would talk about how [One Direction] was Beatlesque, Monkees-esque,” Kotecha continues. “They had such big personalities. I felt like a kid again when I was around them. And I felt like the only music you could really do that with is fun, poppy guitar songs. It would come out of left field and become something owned by the fans.”

To craft that sound on 1D’s first two albums, Up All Night and Take Me Home, Kotecha worked mostly with Swedish songwriters-producers Carl Falk and Rami Yacoub. They’d all studied at the Max Martin/Cheiron Studios school of pop craftsmanship, and Falk says they were confident they could crack the boy-band code once more with songs that recalled BSB and ‘NSync, but replaced the dated synths and pianos with guitars.

The greatest thing popular music can do is make someone else think, “I can do that,” and One Direction’s music was designed with that intent. “The guitar riff had to be so simple that my friend’s 15-year-old daughter could play it and put a cover to YouTube,” Falk says. “If you listen to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ or ‘One Thing,’ they have two-finger guitar riffs that everyone who can play a bit of guitar can learn. That was all on purpose.”

“You saw that they caught the bug and were really good at it,” Kotecha says of their songwriting. “And moving forward, you got the impression that that was the way for them.”

“We could use their voices on Four to make something sound more exciting and bigger, rather than having to add too many guitars, synths or drums,” Ryan says.

Musically, Four was 1D’s most expansive album yet — from the sky-high piano rock of “Steal My Girl” to the tender, tasteful groove of “Fireproof” — and it had the emotional range to match. Now in their early twenties, songs like “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” “No Control,” “Fool’s Gold” and “Clouds” redrew the dramas and euphorias of adolescence with the new weight, wit and wanton winks of impending adulthood. One Direction wasn’t growing up normally in any sense of the word, but they were becoming songwriters capable of drawing out the most relatable elements from their extraordinary circumstances — like on “Change Your Ticket,” where the turbulent love affairs of young jet-setters are distilled to the universal pang of a long goodbye. There were real relationships inspiring these stories, but now that One Direction was four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

Bunetta remembers Zayn playing him “Pillowtalk” and a few other songs for the first time through a three a.m. fog of cigarette smoke in a hotel room in Japan.

#harry styles #louis tomlinson #one direction #1d ten #220720

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childofthecornmusicreview · 5 years ago

Link

Backstreet Boys – It’s Gotta Be You

As I look through the credits when making my selections for this week, I am completely flabbergasted on how much Max Martin has had a hand in some of childhood’s most favorite songs. The guy is just a beast when it comes to pop production and his presence can certainly be felt in this single “It’s Gotta Be You” from the group’s bestselling record of all time Millennium. On an album that had so many mega hits, this song pumps up the jam on the album after one of the more downer singles “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely” it gets the listener hyped again for the rest of the album. The production has a combination of 90’s house music that reminds me a lot of Quad City DJ songs, but around the 2:00 minute mark, you can hear what would ultimately become the pop style of today with a more EDM sound and a break down section before building the beat back to complete the song. I guess you could really say the boys were definitely looking into the future when selecting this single. The first time I saw the group was in 2014 and the boys had just finished their set, but as fans were leaving this song came on and I could really tell whom the true fans were as people began to dance and sing their way out of the amphitheater. Therefore, hearing this song takes me back to that incredible performance and only adds to my anticipation for seeing BSB perform again this Friday!

#backstreetboys #its gotta be you #millennium #90s music #boy bands #bsb

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max--phillips · 1 year ago

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Max immediately throwing shade at Evan with the I love you thing

Evan just straight up having a panic attack the entire time Max is giving the sales is seduction speech

Also Ted’s right Evan would’ve eaten shit in that position he’s an entitled brat

The fact Max calls her Mandy when Evan comes into his office

Obsessed with the weird low-quality cg games Tim and Mike are shown playing

Mike like “take whatever you want I don’t care about this company lmao bye”

“I believe I know this cat sir”

“I wasn’t gay they just had a really good archery program”

The way that Max says “Evan, Evan, slow down. What’s up now?” without changing his facial expression At All is hilarious

“Okay, now I’m gonna kill him.”

#tori says things #max says things #max watches bsb again

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eldritchsurveys · 6 years ago

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12o.

Do you wish you could paint your bedroom walls? >> Not particularly. I mean, it’d be cool, but I can live without it until we move into a more permanent place.

What’s your favorite musical? >> Repo! the Genetic Opera, full stop. Phantom of the Opera after that, and Jesus Christ Superstar third.

How do you get to sleep? >> I don’t really do anything special, I just read or play phone games or hang out in Xibalba until I’m sleepy.

What happened at the last party you went to? >> I’m not sure what the last party I went to was that wasn’t just some family event that I went to with Sparrow.

Have you ever smoked a cigarette? >> Yep.

What’s your hair like at this present moment? >> Freshly shorn and washed (well, yesterday, but that’s still pretty fresh to me).

Are you more comfortable sitting or lying down? >> It depends on what I’ve been doing more of at the time. I like to sit up but sometimes reclining is a relief if I’ve been sitting too much.

What’s the worst film you’ve ever seen? >> I don’t know, but one movie I absolutely didn’t enjoy was Napoleon Dynamite.

Are you an untidy person? >> No, but I live with a person that isn’t entirely tidy and I have resigned myself to it (because the other option is madness).

Have you ever been a fan of N*Sync? >> Not really a fan -- I liked BSB more back in those days -- but I do still think some of their songs are absolute bangers.

Do you watch a lot of television? >> Not a lot, mostly because I don’t binge-watch like I used to anymore.

Do you think you’re fat sometimes? >> Nope.

Do you like to flex your muscles? >> Sometimes. What little I still have, haha.

Have you ever completely misunderstood what somebody was saying? >> Yep. One time Sparrow was saying that a place was too bougie and I swear my brain heard “boobily” and I was like “it’s too boobily???” and she was like “babe WHAT. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN” and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Favorite kind of cake: >> Red velvet.

Was it a boy or a girl to text you last? >> It was a woman.

Name something you are doing tomorrow? >> I’m not doing anything special tomorrow, so I don’t know... playing FFXIV? Like, probably.

Where are you going to be at 4 PM tomorrow? >> Home, barring any surprises.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? >> Yeah.

Did you have any unread text messages this morning when you woke up? >> No.

Do you think you would be a good parent? >> I don’t know. I think I would do my absolute best, which is all you can ask from anyone, I guess.

Who was driving the last time you were in a car? >> Sparrow.

Are you tanned? >> No, I’m full-on darkskinned.

Did you get any compliments today? >> No. I also have only been awake and online for like an hour.

Do you get jealous easily? >> No.

What were you doing at 3 AM this morning? >> Sleeping.

Are you any good at math? >> I think I was fairly okay at it. I just never developed an interest.

Any plans for Friday night? >> Hopefully we’ll do the Cafe Boba meetup again, with West Michigan Geeks. Last time was pretty fun.

Do you have a little crush on someone? >> Yeah. I don’t know what it’s about, but it exists, so I guess I’ll just deal with it until it finally passes.

How old is the last person you kissed? >> Ageless.

Why did you kiss the person you last kissed? >> No special reason, I just like kissing him.

What is your middle name? >> Frey. I don’t know if I’ll have a middle name when I change it for the [hopefully] last time. I’d like one, but I can’t figure out what flows well. IDK, maybe I’ll just keep Frey. It’s like “Ann”, sounds good in between almost anything.

What are you passionate about? >> Storytelling and mythology.

Do you have any fears? >> You know, my thanatophobia problem has been a little quieter lately. I still have “oh shit” moments, but not like before. And the major change has been... not sleeping in the second bedroom anymore. I maintain that there is something about that room -- either because of the last occupant or because of something I can’t suss out -- that is just toxic for me. So I’ll just keep my stuff in there but not myself, and deal with Sparrow trying to kickbox in her sleep -- it’s better than the alternative.

Where are you from? >> Good question.

What’s your sign? >> Gemini Sun.

What is your favorite color? >> Gold.

Are you a procrastinator or do you get things done early? >> I’m a procrastinator with executive function issues, so I actually sometimes don’t know whether I’m just garden-variety procrastinating or whether I need to be approaching a task from a “let’s fix/cheat my executive dysfunction” angle. When my executive function is in tip-top shape, I can get a task done in no time.

TV Shows and anime you watch regularly: >> Grey’s Anatomy, mainly, because I still have so many episodes left.

Halloween costume idea for this year? >> I don’t have any ideas, because I have never properly dressed up for Halloween and I still don’t know if I’ll ever get to.

Is there anything purple nearby? >> There’s one of those bag clips on my desk and it’s shaped like a purple monster face.

Do you usually leave voicemails on other people’s machines? >> No. I also don’t call people, so.

Do you know somebody whose christmas lights stay up all year round? >> I don’t think so. Aside from people (like me) who use Christmas lights as regular lighting.

Do you always shut your computer down when you’re finished with it? >> No, I usually set it to hibernate or sleep.

Are most of the pens around your house from random companies or plain? >> They’re just random pens, idk.

Sixteen Candles or Pretty In Pink? >> Haven’t seen either.

Do you want to have a big family in the future? >> Er.

Do you get embarrassed when talking about things like sex and periods? >> No.

Do you often write people’s moods off as ‘PMSing?’ >> I don’t recall ever doing that.

Do you think that men endure too much? >> I think that humans endure a lot, period. Men included. It’s unfortunate that it’s in fashion to diminish the struggles of men now in the name of “feminism” or whatever, because not only is that petty and unfair, it’s actually a roadblock to equality. But, you know, who cares, right?

Are there any towels in your house with cartoon characters on them? >> No.

Do the half sheet paper towels annoy you? >> No.

Ever been in a mosh pit? >> No, I watch them but I refuse to participate.

What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush? >> I’m not sure.

Is Vegas one of your must-see places? >> I’m into the idea of going, but it’s not a priority.

Pet rat ; Yay or Nay? >> They’re adorable and I love to play with other people’s, but I’m not sure about keeping one myself. Mostly because I’m a poor caretaker.

If given the chance, would you ride a unicorn to Iceland? >> Uh, yeah, sure, why would I pass that kind of opportunity up?!

Have you ever washed a cat in your bathtub? >> No.

Ever seen the movie Max Keeble’s Big Move? Opinions? >> No.

Would you call yourself a writer? Written any stories lately? >> I suppose. I wrote a short thing with my Fallout 4 Sole Survivor and Preston Garvey a week or so ago.

Are you good at reading people’s body language? >> I don’t know.

Ever ask a random stranger to pretend to be someone for you? >> No.

Are needles something that you’re afraid of? >> No.

Have you ever been prescribed medication? >> Yes.

Did you ever have those glow in the dark stars on your ceiling? >> No, but Sparrow used to, and I actually have a set of them that I got in a Reddit Secret Santa exchange but I never actually got around to sticking them anywhere.

Do you have a Friday night routine? >> No. We might now, though. We’ll see.

Do you kind of have to pee right now? >> No.

#survey #surveys #random survey

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decodingbackstreet · 8 years ago

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Ah yes… Larger than Life. A staple in any BSB fan’s playlist. First track on Millennium and one of the many songs that are dedicated to their fans. Also the name of their Vegas residency. Apt. Anyway, I’m a fan of the video mix more than I am the album version but I still rock out this one. Like I Want It That Way, it’s very catchy. And I just recently realized how much it sounds like (You Drive Me) Crazy by Ms. Spears. They also set a record with the video, which at $2.1 million was the most expensive video at the time. And I looooove the dance sequence. I still know it. They performed it at the 9.9.99 VMAs aka the BEST VMAS EVAH. I don’t think that VMAs will ever be topped. It’s the Wrestlemania 17 of VMAs.

Writers: Max Martin, Brian Littrell, Kristian Lundin Producer: Kristian Lundin

I may run and hide When you’re screaming my name All right

Brian starts the first verse after AJ does some screaming at us to get us hype. Why oh why would you run and hide from screaming girls, Brian? *flashbacks to 1999* In retrospect, 1999 was a very dangerous time to be in a boy band. Especially a Backstreet Boy. I was only 12/13 then and while we were kinda crazy we weren’t the level of cray teenagers were.

But let me tell you now There are prices to fame All right

Nick finishes up the first verse. For the absolute longest I thought he said prices to PAY. But then I actually read the lyrics from the cd booklet and was amazed that I’d been singing it wrong for 15 years. Anyway, Nickolas is warning us that not everything is all sunshine and roses being a Backstreet Boy. Fame comes with a price. Apparently that price is running from crazy fans.

All of our time spent In flashes of light

AJ sings all calmly after he spent the first 20 seconds of the song yelling at us. Flashes of light… On the stage? In front of cameras? I’m sure they’ve taken thousands of m&g pics. That’s lots of flashes. Red carpets. Photo shoots. Concerts. So on and so forth. All for us. The fans.

All you people Can’t you see, can’t you see How your love’s affecting our reality Every time we’re down You can make it right And that makes you Larger than life

The chorus everyone (even those who aren’t fans) knows. Pretty self-explanatory. We make them feel great. I’ve always loved watching the expressions of singers when their audience sings their songs. They look so appreciative. That’s gotta make you feel good; to see thousands of ppl singing your songs right back at you. Plus, the guys have talked about how awesome they think we are and that in turn makes us feel great. Our relationship with the guys is pretty symbiotic.

Looking at the crowd And I see your body sway Come on

Nick sings the first part of the second verse. Gonna be honest. The second verse has always made me raise my eyebrows like dafuq are they talkin about? Like I can make it dirty but since St. Brian of Alpharetta wrote this I highly doubt it’s meant in that way. Not gonna stop me from thinking it tho.

Wishing I could thank you In a different way Come on

Brian finished it up. See? How can I NOT make this verse dirty? It’s too easy. In what other way would you thank a fan? What’s the normal way? Write a song about them? What’s the DIFFERENT way? I guess I’ll never really know the answer to that one. I’ll just continue thinking it’s dirty. After all, it’s not like they’ve never engaged in typical rockstar behavior. All of them.

All of your time spent Keeps us alive

AJ goes from singing to yelling this time. He’s grateful for all the money time we’ve spent on with them. After all, where would BSB be without their faithful army of fans?

We get another chorus and then they break it down for us with a nice little arrangement. Then…

All of your time spent Keeps us alive Yeah

Then, depending on the version you’re listening to, there’s this bitchin guitar solo. I think the only version that doesn’t have it is the extended video mix which replaces it with the music for the dance break. They do the chorus again after that. Then my favorite part of the song…

Yeah Every time we’re down Yeah You can make right Yeah That’s what makes you larger than life Yeah

It’s a sort of call and response between the guys and AJ. I think I said it in the review of I Wanna Be With You that BSB’s signature “thing” is the way they sing yeah. This is a perfect example. And I love it. This part never fails to get me hype.

I’m gonna type out the final chorus…

All you people Can’t you see, can’t you see How your love’s affecting our reality Every time we’re down You can make it right And that makes you larger That makes you larger That makes you larger than life

And AJ ends it with an AJ note that he refuses to let go. I don’t think this song would get me half as hype as it does if it weren’t for AJ. AJ definitely makes this song. Well… AJ and the yeahs.

With this one I have completed every single from Millennium.

#backstreet boys #larger than life #millennium

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