#one man band without vocals maybe

[citrus-adventures]

can't go to sleep thinking about the trolls world tour little mermaid au

[ladykailitha]

The Rise of the Fallen Part 1

The thrilling sequel to Icarus and Around the World is finally here!

This universe has decided though, completely without prompting to do a little Christmas story set in this verse. So.... yeah!

Enjoy!

Summary: On the ten anniversary of The Fallen's eponymous debut album, the band decides to do an unmasking. This is the interview with Variety journalist Karla Lopez. SEQUEL TO ICARUS AND AROUND THE WORLD READ THEM FIRST!!!

~

Exclusive Interview with The Fallen Behind the Veil by Variety reporter Karla Lopez.

Karla Lopez: I am deeply honored to be chosen to do this, you have no idea.

Astraeus chuckles: Oh I think we have an idea, yeah.

KL: Why did you decide to do a reveal now? You have all been pretty vocal about not wanting to break persona.

They all look around at each other like they trying to decide who’s going to answer that. Finally Abbadon speaks.

Abbadon: Back when we were first asked about it, Asmodeus said that maybe if we were still here ten years on. This marks the 10th anniversary of our first album, so I guess it just felt right.

KL: Fair enough. There were talks about this being live so you could answer questions from a chat on air. But all of you nixed that. Can you tell me why?

Asmodeus laughs: We all wanted to see the reaction on our friends and family’s faces when they find out who we are.

KL: You have fans among your friends and family?

Abbadon: Oh yeah. It’s funny having to pretend to hate metal so much I won’t go to our concerts.

Astraeus: You have to film yours, man. I have to see his reaction.

Abbadon laughs: Don’t worry, my partner has it on lock.

KL: Someone we’ve been told we can’t talk about until after the reveal.

They all snicker

Azrael: That’s because he’s here and them being a couple is also being revealed today, too.

KL: Awww, that’s so sweet. So this is how the reveal is going to work: each of you will take turns in the hot seat I point to a large red leather armchair off to the side a little and you will take off your mask, tell us your real name and a bit about yourself.

They all nod

KL: So you guys picked the order. Youngest to oldest, right? Again they nod So who’s up first?

Azrael stands up and moves over to the hot seat and sits down. He takes a deep breath and removes his mask. He pushes back his hood. Behind the mask is an unassuming man with blue eyes and wavy blond hair that goes to his shoulders. He’s conventionally handsome but he’s got a bump on the side of his nose where it’s likely been broken.

Azrael: Hi, I’m Spencer Peters, I’m 32 years old with a wife and twin little girls aged four. No she didn’t know I was a drummer for a metal band only that I travel a lot for business. He waves Hi, honey! Shout out to Sweet Pea and Pumpkin. I was an EMT before I met the rest of the band. I had been playing drums since I was ten, but I never thought it would become my job.

KL: Why did you chose the name Azrael?

Azrael: Because I wanted to pick something I wasn’t. As an EMT my job was to save lives. I figured that if I chose the angel of death no one would guess it was me. He huffs a bitter laugh And it fucking worked.

KL: No one in your life even wondered?

He shrugs: If they did, they didn’t tell me. As far as I know, no one in my life put together that my business trips line up with our touring dates.

KL: Do you feel angry about that?

He looks over the other guys and then back at the camera: Sometimes.

Abbadon ducks his head as Azrael (Spencer) stands up and walks back over to the group.

KL: Do you want to talk about that anger?

Abbadon lifts his head: My partner figured it out. Before we got together. It’s partly why we got together. But as far as any of us are aware no one else in our lives have figured it. Not spouses, parents, siblings, close friends. So yeah sometimes it hurts that they don’t know us well enough to guess.

KL: That’s got be hard. How does no one else know? Aren’t there dozens of people milling about after shows?

Asmodeus: Certain people have to know, our agent and our manager. Our chief security; they all sign NDAs but we’re also very quiet about it. We don’t get ready in their dressing rooms unless we have to. And if we do, we have armed guards in front of the door.

Abbadon waves: Shout out to Murray Bauman, though. He guessed I was the frontman for one of the masked bands. Just didn’t care which one. So he’s not on the list of people who knew I was Abbadon, because he didn’t. Until now. He wags his eyebrows.

Azrael: Plus once we’re ourselves again, everyone thinks we’re roadies or PAs or whatever role we can slip into that won’t draw suspicion.

I laugh: I guess I can see how they might make that mistake. Who’s next?

Asmodeus stands up and walks over to the hot seat and sits down. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Abbadon walks over and puts his arm around his shoulder and they whisper for a couple of moments. Abbadon stands up and moves just enough out of view of the camera but close enough that Asmodeus can still see him.

Abbadon nods and Asmodeus takes off his mask and pushes back his hood. The man’s coal dark eyes are apparently natural as he doesn’t remove any contacts. His hair is as dark as his eyes. He has a square jaw and a sweet smile. Abbadon smiles back encouragingly.

Asmodeus: he waves awkwardly at the camera My name is Simon Olsen. I’m also 32, but older then Spence by two months. I’m the biggest nerd of the group. I play D&D, I’m big sci-fi nerd, huge Trekkie. I was trying to write a sci-fi novel when I met the other guys. It’s not very good. I’m a better guitar player than I am a writer. I started playing when I was sixteen to get girls.

KL: Has it worked?

He laughs: As Simon? No. As Asmodeus, girls are always throwing themselves at me. But I never felt that was genuine so I���ve never indulged. I guess I’m a 32 year old virgin.

He winces and looks up at Abbadon. Whatever he sees there soothes him and he clears his throat.

Asmodeus: Like Spence, I picked Asmodeus because he was the antithesis of me. Someone to drive the girls wild. Cool, confident. I like being him more than me sometimes.

Abbadon holds out his hand just out of frame but Asmodeus stands up and takes it and they both walk back to the group.

KL: Is that something you all feel? That you like being your alter egos over yourselves?

They all glance around at each other.

Azrael (SP): Sometimes. We’re all what people in the 80s called preps. I’m not sure what they would call us now, probably nerds. Polos, chinos, Henleys. Suburban dads, I guess. So our alter egos, our personas if you will aren’t like that. They are so much cooler than us so it’s easier to be them.

KL: Has it been hard keeping the two lives separate?

Astraeus: More than you’ll ever guess. It’s why after a tour we don’t immediately go home we learn how to be regular guys again.

KL: I laugh How does that work?

Abbadon: Military grade specialists.

I laugh again but they don’t laugh with me: Wait, you’re serious?

They nod

Asmodeus (SO): They have these people that teach incoming soldiers how to turn off being soldiers and be people again. They’re kinda like that. Not exactly but close enough. Our head of security heads this up. He’s really fucking good.

Abbadon: I was the reason for this, by the way. My persona is so unlike my real life that there was actual talk about me being cursed. Our manager helped me that one time, because she knew me before I went on tour, but it was clear it wasn’t perfect. So she found a couple of people that would be willing to help us get in and out of character before and after our tours. It’s been a real life saver for sure.

Astraeus: And believe me, I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous. But it’s really helped us out.

KL: Who’s next?

Astraeus stands up and makes his way over to the hot seat and curls up on it like a large house cat. It’s a jarring affect to see the large bassist tuck his legs under him like a teenage girl about share secrets with her bestie.

He takes of the mask and drops the hood. He runs his fingers through a riot of tight red curls. His face is freckled and his has a gap-toothed, goofy smile.

Astraeus: Hey guys! My name is Shane Kendrick, I’m 33 and me and Abbadon have the same birthday, year and everything. I’d call us twinsies, but he already had a soul twin in the form of our manager, and you so don’t want to get into the middle of that!

Abbadon, their manager, and Abbadon’s partner all burst out laughing. Astraeus winks at Abbadon.

I am starting to see a pattern and it’s making me a little upset if I’m honest.

Astraeus: I tease, I tease. They’re super cute. I chose the name Astraeus because there aren’t that many night gods, lots of goddesses, but not whole of gods. But I am a huge mythology nerd. In fact I helped everyone come up with their names. I chose Astraeus because he’s not a god of night, he’s the titan of night and that sounded way more metal than just a god.

I was actually studying to become a history teacher for the middle school grade when I met the rest of the band.

KL: Where did you guys meet?

Astraeus (SK): Abbadon was working at a little cafe where the three of us would come in for coffee. Me and Simon would spend hours there. Him doing his writing and me doing my homework. Spence would come in after his shift and just sit in a corner to decompress.

KL: How did you guys become friends?

They all laugh

Astraeus (SK): Abbadon was playing Corroded Coffin on their speakers. First cafe I’d ever been to where they didn’t play some new age shit.

There is a choked off laugh from Abbadon’s partner and Abbadon ducks his head. I’m sure if the mask was off, we’d see him blush.

KL: You bonded over Corroded Coffin?

Astraeus (SK): Yeah, I told him I had a crush on the drummer and he told me that he had gone to high school with them.

My jaw drops: Wait? Really?

Abbadon nods: All Hawkins High alums. Almost all different years though, too. Eddie was ahead of me, Jeff and Brian were below me one year and Gareth was two years below me.

KL: Wow!

Astraeus gets up and swaps with Abbadon. They give each other five as they pass as if they they are tagging the one out and the other in.

~

Part 2

Tag list: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @chameleonhair

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @clockworkballerina @eyehartart

[luvrxbunny]

crybaby

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader 

Prompt: Dacryphilia(?)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, insecure thoughts/relationship doubts, piv, unprotected sex  (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.1k

A/N: *gasp* im on time?! i hope this counts- reader is crying but it's not a turn-on or anything, it's kinda just something that's happening

Eddie’s band had been on tour for a month now, all his classes were online and he’d Facetime you so you could ensure he’s doing his work but you still miss him. He’s supposed to come home in a week and you don’t know what you’re going to do. You’ve been stressed out of your mind without his calming presence, you’ve told him about some of your stresses and he’s helped but you’re starting to feel like you’re just putting a dampener on his tour so you stopped. 

You miss him so much it’s heartbreaking. You knew it would be hard, after being with Eddie for two years now you guys have never spent more than a week apart. You thought though, that after being with him for so long you’d be fine, you’d saved up enough ‘Eddie Time’ to get through the month. You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

He was nice enough to let you stay in his room for the month, and you never noticed how big his bed was. You actually used to complain that it isn’t big enough for the both of you but now the only thing you can think is how big it is. If this bed was really made for one person then why is it so big? 

Your math homework is scattered on the floor, thrown off the bed in a fit of frustration. You miss him. It’s not that he could’ve done the math for you or anything but he’d make you feel better at least, help you google it and try to figure it out, maybe make you feel like less of a dumbass. But he’s not here. You sigh into his pillow before inhaling his faint scent, tears almost springing to your eyes. 

You try not to tell him too much about how deeply your yearning for him goes. You don’t want him to feel bad for leaving, you couldn't be more proud of him for booking this little tour and you’d never want him to stay back for you… but it wouldn’t hurt if he could make a little more time. These past few weeks you’ve barely been able to keep him on the phone, only being available for a few minutes before having to run into a meeting, a practice session, or a vocal lesson. Apparently, he tried to cram all of his meetings and such into this week so that he could spend his last few tour nights getting shitfaced. 

He had told you the plan in a rushed and staticky call while he was in an elevator, that was the only free time he had for you, his girlfriend. An elevator ride.

So now you’re in his favorite pair of panties and one of his shirts in case he wants to video call. He gave you piles of silly promises of video-chat sex, you laughed at them when he made them but started craving them after the first two days. He called you on the Wednesday of his first week gone with plans for ‘sex’ but ended up a bit too tired. That was the only time he called… You’re still hopeful though. 

You try your best to hold back your tears as you press your face into his pillow. You jump when you hear the front door unlock but when you check the time you realize it’s just Wayne. He doesn’t mind you being here, you make your own dinner and buy groceries sometimes, other than that you guys don’t really interact so you stay where you are, sniffling into Eddie’s pillow. Unfortunately, you miscalculated how loud you were because suddenly Eddie’s room door opened and your body froze. You’re waiting for him to make some awkward attempt at a soothing, comforting conversation, muscles tense with the promise of embarrassment. 

“Man, I don’t even get a ‘hi’?” Eddie.

Your head whips up from the pillow and your heart breaks at the way his smile drops along with his bags as he rushes to your side of the bed. “What’s wrong? Did Wayne say some-” You’re sitting up and crashing your lips into his with a sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his body to press against yours. You’re still getting up, wanting to be as close to him as you can and now kneeling on the bed, almost his height as he’s standing. You’re gripping the sides of his face, whimpering into his mouth as he coos into yours and his hands are around your waist, pulling your body into his.

You only pull away once you begin to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen and even then you’re still pressing kisses all over his giggling face. He has to wrestle you into a hug to get you to stop, laughing into your ear with his chest bouncing against yours. “So you missed me?” He says with a cocky tone, but when he pulls away to smile at you there’s a genuine vulnerability in them that you’re in love with. 

You kiss him again, a little peck before smiling against his lips. “I missed you so much, Eddie.” Your voice cracks with emotion and his arms tense around you for a moment before lifting to cup your cheek and pulling you in for a slow, romantic kiss. His tongue slides over your lips before slipping into your mouth and relearning your taste. You can already feel yourself melting for him, all your bones turning to jelly and dampening your panties. You’re pulling him down already, trying to get him in bed and he’s laughing. 

“Slow down, baby! I-” You kiss him again, a silent beg for him to just get in bed with you. You bring your hands into his hair and whimper against him as your hips twitch in the air just from his taste. You slide your tongue into his mouth this time, earning a shocked moan from the back of his throat as your tongue slides against his, admiring its softness and the moans the action elicits from him. His hands leave your body as he fumbles with his belt. He’s nodding subtly and subconsciously against you as he gives in to his needs. 

You can hear him growing more unrestrained as he takes his pants off, his breaths quickly speed up and become heavier. His movements get a bit fumbled and frantic as he tries to kiss you and get his long legs out of his skinny jeans. He ends up crashing on you, tripping over his pants, and landing half on you half on the bed. He’s giggling intermittently, still trying to drown his lips in yours. You’re grinning wildly at his desperation, happy that he needed you as badly as you needed him.

“Calm down, sweetheart.” You chuckle half-heartedly against his neck once he gets his leather jacket off. He’s left in his wife beater, boxers, and chains, climbing over you, hands roaming every part of your body. He has this animalistic look in his eyes, one you’re sure matches the look on your face. You wrap your arms around his waist, running your hands lightly up his back and smiling at the way he shudders as his eyelids flutter. His hand comes up to rest beside your head as he lowers his crotch to yours, holding eye contact and groaning once his pulsing cock comes in contact with your hot core. 

He leans back and reaches down for the hem of the t-shirt- his t-shirt that you’re wearing and pulls it up. He has to apologize for the way his hips jerk against yours, thrusting him against your covered pussy like he was actually fucking you, but he couldn’t help it, not when you’re wearing these panties. He leans back down and presses his forehead against yours to let a ragged groan out against your face. Your hips twitch into his slowly building pace at the sound.

“How-” He cuts himself off with a groan and buries his face in your neck, muttering praises and kissing the skin there before coming back up. “How can you tell me to- to calm down when you know-” One hand comes down to the band of your panties, reaching between your thighs to pull the elastic there and snap it against your sensitive skin. “You know you’re wearing these… hm? Explain that, sweetheart.” He says the last tone with a drop of venom, teasing the nickname you used for him earlier while purposely grinding his tip into your clit so he can watch you stumble over your answer. 

He chuckles and pulls away once he’s had enough of your silent, trembling lips, trying desperately to form words for him. He pulls his boxers down to his thighs and takes one leg out before pulling on the elastic of your panties again. “Are you just gonna watch or do you wanna get undressed too, my love?”

He says it with a smirk but there’s something about it that’s more loving than teasing as it has a new heat blooming over the one that’s already resting in your stomach. You’d been just staring at him, admiring him as he undressed and you’re sneaking peeks at him even now, as you take your panties off. He smiles at your struggle to take them off, wiggling on your back to shimmy them around your thighs and he’s climbing back over you the second you have them off. 

“Been needing you so long, baby.” His statement sounds so genuine as he strokes his cock against your entrance, the tip nudging into your messy hole on every other stroke. It’s a tease but Eddie doesn’t even mean for it to be, he’s just mesmerized by the way his cock is just crying into you, pouring everything he has into your perfect little hole. He groans and has to shut his eyes, a bit worried at how the thought makes his cock throb. He looks up at you for assurance once more and his face crumbles at the way you’re already staring at him. You’re giving him the big pretty eyes, the sweetest face you have, begging him to put it in, to fill your every crevice with his thick cock and he gives it to you before you can even blink. 

He thrusts his hips forward, plowing his way through your tight ring of muscle, groaning at the way you squeeze his cock and the way your hands are gripping his shoulders, looking for purchase from the pleasure he’s assaulting you with. You try to stay calm, you keep your limbs from shaking, your eyes from rolling back and you’re trying to keep your face neutral but his cock twitches inside you once, and your entire resolve breaks. A shiver runs up your spine as you curl in on yourself and groan his name while pulling him down to lean into his neck. You can’t see the way his eyes roll back at your breath on his neck but you can feel the way he’s already shaking against you. His arms give out, dropping him to press flush against you with a grunt. He apologizes mindlessly, his hips never stopping their steady pace. 

You are surrounded by him, floating away yet grounded by him. You love him so much and he’s been gone for so long. You’re overcome with joy at finally having your boy back in your arms, moaning sweetly into your ear, his adorable little body shaking against you as he fucks his desperate cock into you. He didn’t even know you were missing him so much but he came home early anyway, ready and wanting for you. You feel embarrassment nip at your belly as tears spring to your eyes. You try to bury your face in his shoulder and ignore it, let him keep fucking you as much as he needs. 

You don’t want him to stop and if he sees you’re crying that’s exactly what he’ll do. You’ve never felt so consumed, so wrapped and completely enveloped in love before. You only started to even understand what love was when Eddie started loving on you. You’re so grateful for him and everything he is and his dick is sliding into you so perfectly. He’s bullying your G-Spot every time he thrusts in, his fat tip hitting your most sensitive spot and turning your brain to mush with every movement. 

Your tear slides down your face when he moans your name into your ear like a prayer, like you’re the best thing he ever has or will have. It falls onto his shoulder and rolls off his arm, he slows for a moment, his moans turning into muted pants as he listens and observes. His hips slow even more when he takes in your shaking hands and trembling shoulders. He tries to pull your head from his neck, his pace more of a lazy thrust now but you refuse and that’s what makes him stop completely. “Baby?”

His voice is shaking and scared, his hand is trembling on the back of your head, softly cradling it. You whine into his neck and lift your hips, sinking his cock back into your hole with a hushed moan as Eddie clamps his eyes shut, bites into his lip, and presses his hands on your hips, forcing them back down to the bed. “Can’t fuck you if you’re crying, my love. What’s-” You cut him off with a shaky whimper at his term of endearment and try to explain yourself. 

“Still wan’ it.” You whine to him like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. His hips twitch against you before his cock slowly slides out and back in again. “Yeah?” He questions before speeding up a bit, still keeping a tame, relaxing pace. Your muscles un-tense and your head falls back, exposing your neck to Eddie who happily dives in. “Yeah..” You sigh out as he starts pressing air-light kisses to your sensitive skin. 

“Jus’ missed you so much, Ed.” He whimpers into your neck at the confession and his hips speed up just a fraction. “Needed you all the time but-” You whimper as he bites your skin gently, choosing to use a bit more force on some parts. “But you were so busy- an’-” You moan and dig your fingers in his hair as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to draw in, slowly tightening from Eddie’s thrust and your outpour of emotion and love. “An’ now you’re here and you’re so perfect and so good, Eddie.” Your eyes roll back as you lock your legs behind Eddie’s waist forcing him to keep his cock pressed into you fully, making you feel so full. His thighs are jumping at your words- so innocent but somehow have more effect on him than any dirty talk he’s heard before. 

He pulls his head out of your neck, little droplets of water littering his long lashes. “Missed you too, doll.” His words are a rough whimper against your lips before he dives in, his hips now moving at a new speed, reinvigorated by your love. He’s kissing you messy, basically just pressing his lips against yours and fucking you, your tongues are everywhere, trying to taste everything and making a mess of both of your faces, all while his hips fuck into you with mind-blowing precision, sending tsunamis of pleasure through your bones on every thrust. 

The coil in your stomach tightens even further, reaching the point of no return as your legs tighten around him again. You try to calm down, to keep your pussy from fluttering around Eddie but his knowing chuckle in your ear breaks your resolve, and your pussy spasms around him. “Yeah. Felt like you were trying something.” He reangles himself and adjusts his thrusts, changing them to a slow, hard grind so he stimulates your clit, bringing you to the edge closer than you expected. 

Your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails grip him and he groans against you, his eyes rolling back with a gut-wrenching smirk on his face. “Mmm- Mark me up, sweetheart. I-” He breathes out a desperate breath of air, inhaling you instead with a strained whine before dropping into your neck again. His hips grow a bit frantic and his whines turn to rabid grunts as he fucks into you with everything he has, trying to hold off his orgasm as you moan and twitch around his overly sensitive cock. 

“Cum all over me, baby.” It’s a request and Eddie was ready to beg but you let go at his first utterance. You explode all over him, he has to reach up lightning fast to slap his hand over your mouth as your eyes cross and you moan, completely debauched into his hand. He grunts out against his hand, biting his lip to try and hold his sounds in as you soak his dick, squeezing him erratically as you cum. He tries to hold back, let you finish basking in your orgasm before pouring his seed into you but your muffled sounds are too much. He whines out curses and moans of your name against the back of his hand as you moan for him into the other side. 

His hips slam into yours one last time to push himself as deep as he can go before his cock explodes. He doesn’t know how he had so much cum inside him but he’s sure it’s going to overflow. He can’t even think as his orgasm tears through him, he can hear you encouraging him distantly and it forces another load to rack through his body. His balls are painfully tight as he tries to give you everything he has, completely empty his balls into you. It’s all for you anyway. He lets you know too, it’s the only thing he’s able to mutter to you as he cums. “S’all f’you, baby. All for you.”

He whimpers against you with a few more tremors shooting through his body before wrapping his arms around your waist and rolling onto his back with a sigh. You giggle softly and try to climb off of him but you get a groan of protest. “Eddie, m’heavy, baby.” You smile as you speak, letting your fingers run over his wet, pink lips. He snorts in response. “Liar.” He readjusts his position, sinking into the bed some more, wrapping his arms tighter, and falling asleep. You pretend to be upset that you’re left with no option but to cuddle with him until you fall asleep in his arms. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[susiekern]

3. the one with the concert

warnings: swearing, alcohol, suggestive

word count: 1.825

masterlist

previous | next

If anyone were to see you now, they’d assume you were high. But it was just the adrenaline coursing through your body as you first sit in the Uber and then wait at the gates. Thankfully, Yuji decides to match your vibe, so Nobara is left with the two of you, bouncing up and down, and Junpei, who could win an award for the most shy person ever. Or maybe he was just intimidated by Nobara? Who knows? Either way, you four must look hilarious, because when Maki shows up to let you into the “work” zone, she bursts out laughing.

“Does it count as harassment?” Hearing her question, Nobara pouts and leans on the green-haired girl dramatically.

“It hasn’t even started, and I already had enough.”

As pouty as she is, when you go into the venue and she sees how close to the stage tickets from Maki allowed you to get, she gets excited too. As a security manager, Maki gets tickets for each event, but it’s rare for her to actually use them, so she usually gives them to friends. And damn, VIP tickets for The Fallen? Four of these would probably cost a small fortune.

“I’ll see you guys after, but have fun! Y/n, don’t drool too much, I like our cleaning ladies.” Maki jokes before going through one of those “staff only” doors and leaving you to boil in excitement. Not too long after, the whole hall gets dark, marking the start of the concert.

When you hear the first notes of “The Fall”, lights turn on, illuminating four figures on the stage, and the crowd behind you erupts in cheers. For a moment you feel like a teenager again. It’s the same thrill every time, exactly like when your dad took you for your first live concert ever. And then this deep voice starts singing, bringing chills and goosebumps to your skin.

For the next hour, your eyes are stuck on a man in the middle. Something about him was just hypnotizing, even if you couldn’t see his face behind the black and gold mask. Maybe it was his voice alone, maybe a tall body dressed fully in black, maybe his fingers playing on the guitar like it was the sole reason for his existence. You’re not sure.

But something about Zenin makes you feel like a teenage fangirl seeing her idol for the first time, and you’re not even mad about it.

“I’m serious, guys, he could tell me to jump from a damn cliff, and I’d be happy to do so.”

Yuji, sitting next to you in a tight club booth, nearly dies choking on his beer. You were squeezed on the black leather couches, far enough from the dance floor to be able to talk and exchange thoughts about the concert, joined by a few other friends.

For you, it was a cloud nine. The Fallen was one of the bands you could listen to on repeat, which you often did, and your Spotify Wrapped was hard evidence. You’ve discovered them back when they’ve released their first single. There was something about their music that had you in a chokehold every time. The most impressive were their lyrics, so well thought through, hiding metaphors and little mysteries, and vocalists... The main vocal was deep and raspy, the kind that makes your whole body react to it. If it was possible to fall in love with just someone’s voice, you were down bad.

It was also the mystery thrill that intensified that feeling. The Fallen are four men, performing in modified oni masks, their identities hidden behind stage names. Zenin, Suga, Koki, and So. They never spoke on stage. The best fans got were a few videos of Zenin and Suga chuckling at something, but nothing else.

“I’m actually curious why they keep the hidden identities so hard, even outside of their shows. They had one rehearsal yesterday, but only after everyone left the building, only a few people from their team could stay.” Maki says, ripping you out of your thoughts.

“Maybe they’re all ugly and they worry about losing fans without proper face cards.” Nobara jokes. “Or they’re protecting themselves from female versions of Noritoshi.”

“Right, I’m going to the bar, please change the topic before I come back.” You sigh and get up. It takes you a few minutes to get through the crowd on the dance floor; Supernova is packed as always on the weekends. It’s one of the “fancier” clubs in town, high on the list of go-to places for people who want to loosen up after a stressful week. You finally get to the counter and place an empty beer bottle on it.

“No stalkers on your arm tonight?” A deep voice near your ear makes you jump a little, and you turn to see Megumi next to you.

“Funny you say that, but no.”

“Too bad, I was hoping for a full-time job as a bodyguard.” He snickers and leans a bit on the bar.

“Thought you were out of town?” You ask, changing the topic, but Fushiguro only shrugs and nods at the bartender, lifting your empty bottle.

“Got everything done faster than expected.”

“Well, you’ve missed a great concert, so your loss.” When the bartender sets two bottles on the counter, you don’t even have time to take your phone out of your pocket before Megumi gives him some cash.

“It’s on me.” He smirks at you, seeing your furrowed brows. “So, you enjoyed the show?”

“They could play at the dumpster using children’s toys, and I’d enjoy it.” This statement earns you a laugh. For the next minute or so, both of you just stand there in surprisingly comfortable silence, taking a few sips of beer and observing people. You also use that occasion to quickly eye him up, taking in a black t-shirt with a loose collar, ripped jeans in the same color, and his hair that’s ever messier than usual. He looked good, but when did he not?

“Didn’t know you were such a fan.” His words pull you back to earth, and you realize your hand tingled a little, tempted to brush back one black strand from his forehead that looked out of place even in this chaos. Scolding your own brain, you nod and pray he can’t see the blush that creeps on your cheeks. Hopefully, shitty club lighting was on your side. “What do you like the most?”

“Lyrics, I think. They’re well written, and it feels a bit like reading a book. They make you imagine the story, see it with your own eyes, if that makes sense.” His question took you by surprise, so it took you a minute to answer. You turn your head towards the dance floor to avoid his piercing gaze, which warms up more than just your cheeks. There’s also this insufferable smirk on his face that makes you want to scream with frustration. “And combined with Zenin’s voice… damn.”

“I’ve heard he writes all of their songs. But I prefer Koki. He seems cool with the white hair, don’t you think?”

You turn back to him and shake your head a little, meeting his gaze finally. In the dimmed lights of the club, his green eyes remind you of a deep forest. One you easily get lost in.

“I’m not into drummers.” You admit, barely noticing your own suggestive tone, that it seemed to challenge him a little.

“What are you into then?” He gets closer to you, which somehow doesn’t really bother you. Blame it on the alcohol, the two-and-a-half beers you’ve had. Yeah. Alcohol. You can also blame the fact that you get a little closer too.

“Guitarists. You know, I’ve heard they’re skilled with their fingers.” Your cheeks are on fire from your own words, but the way he glanced at your lips for just a second pushes that feeling to the back of your mind. Somewhere in the forest.

“Want me to show you?”

It’s Sunday evening, and you were slowly wrapping up the stream.

“What can I say? Sucks to suck.” You laugh when Yuji groans into his microphone.

For the last three hours, you’ve played a few different games, and every time he lost against you. It wasn’t really surprising, seeing how miserable he looked in the camera. You two talked before the stream a bit, and he admitted he had no idea how or when he got home from Supernova last night. One moment he’s at the bar, and Nobara orders a round of tequila; the next moment it’s 3 pm, and he’s hungover as fuck in his bed. You sighed with relief hearing this, because it means there’s no way he knows what happened at his apartment. And there was a list of things that took place. Not that you’re really proud of it.

“Easy to say when you’ve disappeared and left me with that tequila monster you call a friend.” The pink-haired man hides his face in his hands, peeking at his own chat through his fingers. “Don’t laugh at me, people! She betrayed me after ten years of friendship!”

“Nine.”

“Ah, fuck off.”

Still laughing, you stretch a little and pull your hoodie off. All of the equipment you needed to keep the stream running made the temperature in your room go higher than usual, and you were close to your melting point.

“Now, now, don’t cry, Ita. Promise I won’t leave you alone on the battlefield next time.” You coo at your friend and lean a bit closer to the desk to read the messages.

yusshi: understandable, tequila is a no-no.

[…]

trackstar32: OH miss y/n

lan2137: if that’s why you left Yuji alone, I understand

zeyde_: holy guacamoly

viviaaan: Alexa, play Careless Whisper.

“What are you all on about?” Furrowing your brows, you follow the chat.

“Yooo, bro, what is that?” Yuji leans closer to his screen, his eyes focused on your video call. Suddenly he opens his mouth and looks like he’s connecting the dots in his head. At the same time, you finally notice what your chat was talking about. Hickeys. Starting at your throat and trailing down to disappear under the hem of your shirt. “Octopus got to you or—” You can actually see his eyes fall down to the shirt itself, and you swear, there’s a lightbulb over his head. A curse falls from your lips when you remember you’re still wearing the shirt you stole from Megumi’s chair this morning. And judging by the look on his face, Yuji recognized it. Damn roommates.

“Alright! I think that’s enough for today. I’ll talk to you later, Ita.” Not waiting for a response, you end the call and go through your normal ending for the stream. A few minutes later, you turn everything off and grab your phone, immediately seeing a message on the group chat.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Damn roommates.

[discordantwritings]

Rock Hard (Rock Band!Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 1. Prelude

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist // The Drummer

Warnings: Slightly suggestive but that’s it for this first part!

WC: 2.6k

Summary: The Cross Guild is the newest rock band to hit the music scene and it’s three controversial members need a manager. That’s where you come in.

Notes: Part 1/5 of the rock band cross guild au is here. Nothing spicy in this part this is all just getting to know The Boys but do not fret, everything else will be just so much smut. This part has some similarities to my other cross guild fic but after this it’ll be a whole lot different trust me!

When The Cross Guild dropped their first single the music industry got turned upside down. A band consisting of three musicians who had been kicked out of the music label giant- Marines.

The lead singer was Buggy. Labeled an ICP wannabe by haters and the best clown ever by fans the flashy vocalist aimed to get a strong reaction- good or bad. Even if his wild style wasn’t for you no one could deny he was talented, which is what kept him with Marines for so long despite his many many controversies. Wild parties, fraternizing with fans, throwing knives at haters- if there was something crazy you could come up with Buggy probably did it. But somehow he always came out on top. You thought his string of diving consequences was over once he got kicked from Marines for good and had his band taken away but clearly you were wrong.

The second member was the world renowned guitarist, Dracule Mihawk. If you ask anyone who the best guitarist in the world was chances are the answer will be this man. Years of skill and talent pour through his long pale fingers every time he is on stage. But he’s not on stage very often. Coming in and out of retirement at the pestering of Marines- some remnants of a contract made long long ago- he graces the stage maybe once a year, shows everyone he hasn’t lost any of his skill, and retreats to his remote mansion. No one is sure why he got fired from Marines, but it was the same time that Buggy (and, significantly less importantly, you) got let go.

The last member was someone no one even knew played an instrument- Crocodile. Crocodile was infamous in the music industry. He produced the hit band Baroque Works under the Marines label until it all came crumbling down. There are thousands of rumors about what happened but all of them say that Crocodile was, in some form, stealing money out from under the label for himself. Baroque Works was broken up and Crocodile was fired but no charges were ever pressed against him. No one had thought about him for years until he appeared suddenly as the drummer for The Cross Guild.

All three of them were large personalities and with a history of not being team players the fact that their first song was actually really damn good was surprising. You didn’t consider yourself a huge rock fan but you couldn’t help but play the song on repeat. The drum beat was hypnotizing, the guitar melody filled you with energy, and Buggy’s vocals had you humming along and dancing in your room.

It helped your enjoyment of their music that The Cross Guild’s mission statement of sorts was to stick it to Marines. All three had some sort of grudge with that label and you did to. Of course you hadn’t been high up at all- just an assistant manager to one of the smaller bands- but you got fired in the same massive wave that had gotten Buggy and Mihawk. You never did anything wrong and were dumped without any warning. Living on cheap ramen for months as you scraped by on savings until you found another job filled you with an anger that gurgled up every time you heard one of Marine’s bands on the radio. But now you were given some counter to that and for that you were grateful.

All that is to say, you were a fan. So when an email pops into your inbox from Daz Bonez, the assistant to Crocodile, you nearly dropped your phone. Then as you read you’re sure you’re having some sort of vivid hallucination because it is an offer to interview for the position of manager for The Cross Guild. You never worked with any of the members when you all worked at the same label so how people like them heard of you is beyond you. After checking a dozen times that no it was not some sort of scam email you replied.

A week later you were taking an elevator up a sleek high rise to meet with The Cross Guild. It took you the whole week to pick out an outfit and the entire morning you have been willing yourself not to throw up from sheer anxiety. When the elevator doors opened you took a deep breath and centered yourself. You could do this.

You walk up to a large desk with a man you recognize- Daz, Crocodiles assistant- sitting behind it. When you walk over he stands up and greets you.

“Glad you could make it. They’re waiting for you in here.” He goes over to a door to the right of his desk and you follow a few paces behind, watching the broad man open the door and gesture for you to enter. You slide past him with a polite smile and do your best not to look star struck when you see three rock stars waiting for you.

Crocodile sits behind a large sleek desk, lit cigar in one hand while his other prosthetic hand taps on the desk. He’s dressed in the kind of outfits you always saw him wearing at the office, layers of fine fabric underneath a large fur lined coat. You wonder if he would wear the same thing on stage, or if he would strip down a few layers but you quickly cut off that line of thinking before it went too far. Three chairs are lined up across from him, two of which are occupied by his band mates. Sitting is a loose term to describe what Buggy is doing in the leftmost chair- perched would be a better term. He’s the first to acknowledge you, waving a gloved hand as you approach. He’s wearing a slightly toned down version of his stage costume, you know he always is in some sort of clown get up but it’s one thing to know and another to see a man dressed as a clown in an office building. As you approach the middle you look to your right and see Dracule Mihawk. He has on his signature long leather coat and a float white shirt underneath. You try not to stare at his slender fingers interlaced with each other in his lap as you hover behind the middle chair, slightly afraid to make eye contact with any of them.

“You can sit.” Crocodile says less as a question and more as a demand. You immediately slipped into the seat, doing your best not to shrink under his gaze.

“You worked for a few years as an assistant talent manager at Marines, yes?” Crocodile looks over a folder as he speaks to you.

“Yes I worked with The Vices for three years and floated around between bands for two years before that.” You answer, finding your rhythm and sitting up a bit straighter.

“Everyone said you did good work but you were fired. Why is that?” Crocodile finally looks you in the eyes and you feel your heart rise up to your throat.

You have a prepared answer. Creative differences, life choices, and any other neutral excuse that anyone gives as to why they got fired. But in this room, with these men, something else ends up coming out. The truth.

“I got no respect, and when I demanded it I was let go in a large wave of lay offs that they did to get rid of anyone that ever disagreed with them, even if that person was right.” You say in one breath, scared that if you stopped you’d lose your will. One of Crocodile’s eyebrows raises slightly and you can see out of the corner of your eye Mihawk sit up a bit more.

“Seems you have some opinions on Marines that we agree with.” There’s a slight tilt to his voice now, one that sheers off some of the gruffness of his tone. “I can’t say I really expected you to be so upfront but it’s a welcome surprise.”

“Did I come off as quiet?” You ask genuinely.

“A bit. But mostly people are afraid to speak ill of such a powerful company.”

“Well, I figured among the three of you with the history you all have that I didn’t have to hold back.” You’ve hit your stride now, sitting up tall and keeping eye contact with Crocodile.

“We do hate those fuckers.” Comments Buggy from your left. When you turn your head to look at him he’s staring at you, head resting on a hand propped up on the armrest. You almost lose your nerve but there’s a certain sparkle in his eye that makes you less intimidated- like you can read his temperament so readily that you would know if this was going downhill.

“Well it’s experience like yours paired with a dislike of a certain label that would make you perfect for the job.” Crocodile’s words drag your attention back to him.

“And the job being your manager.” You can’t help but confirm, a voice in the back of your head still gnawing away at your confidence.

“Yes the manager for the band. I know you don’t have direct managerial experience but you worked for a rather large band so this shouldn’t be too far of a leap outside of your knowledge.”

“And- I’m sorry can I just ask- why me? I know we all have a shared work experience but like you said, I don’t have experience managing a band on my own. I have no doubts I can do this it’s just- with star power like yours I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something here.” You certainly don’t want to end up as just a stepping stone or a fall guy, no matter how good it would look on a resume.

“To be quite honest-“ Mihawk speaks up for the first time- “Its because no high profile manager wants to work with all three of us.”

Well.

That makes sense. Considering the strong personalities and countless scandals between the three of them it’s no wonder no one wants to try and wrangle one of them- let alone all of them. You should be feeling a sense of dread over all this information, over being offered an impossible task. But instead you feel a fire inside you. You’ve been told over and over again by others (and yourself) that you couldn’t make it in the music industry and now, faced with three men who could destroy what’s left of your career or skyrocket you to the top. You’re going to take the risk.

“Alright, what are the hours and pay?” You ask with a smile. Buggy claps beside you and Crocodile gives you a wicked smile. Suddenly you get this feeling of being sized up like prey by him and while it should fill you with nervousness you can’t deny the heat that forms in your stomach at his gaze.

What follows is a few hours of paperwork and negotiation that all accumulates in more hours of work than you wanted but more pay than you could have dreamed of. A fair trade in the end, you decide as you sign off the last bits of paper making you an official employee. Trying not to feel like you just signed your soul away to the devil himself you smile wide and promise to be in bright and early the next day.

The next few weeks of your life were pure chaos. A whirlwind of learning by failing as you wrangled the three biggest personalities you had ever worked with. All of them were demanding and arrogant and frustrating that within a few days you were on the verge of quitting. But you didn’t. You buckled down, learned how each of them worked, and after a while got into a rhythm.

Make sure Buggy has enough attention and things to do so he doesn’t go searching for trouble. Make sure the music is up to Mihawk’s difficulty standards and keep the press away. And as long as all of the paperwork was turned into Crocodile on time you wouldn’t have any issues with him. It was hard work. You’d go home at crazy hours exhausted and get up way too early to start it all over again but you have to admit the work fulfilled you. You’ve been making decisions and leading in a way no job has ever let you before and you were doing a damn good job at it. And after a while those demanding, arrogant, frustrating men began to grow on you.

Buggy was fun to be around when he wasn’t whining. He helped you with press and made statements whenever you asked. Once you all got on a schedule he even stopped getting into drama, surprising everyone. Well, most drama. You didn’t miss the way his eyes would trail down your body or the way his hands would linger on you for a bit too long. A glare or two would shut him down for the moment but you found yourself not really hating it- and Buggy could probably tell. It wasn’t something you let yourself dwell on though. Buggy had quite the reputation for sleeping around so it wasn’t like you were something special.

Mihawk had been a difficult man to crack. It was hard to give him any direction at first, the man was surprisingly lazy when he wanted to be. But then you realized it was because there wasn’t anything interesting to him most days. He was a man at the top of his field so you worked hard to get producers who would give him music that at least engaged him and then he began to open up. You found out his love for old wine and even older books. You saw his soft spot for his personal assistant and wardrobe specialist, Perona. You found yourself having long, thoughtful conversations about the music industry late into the night. There was a sense of pride that you had for how close you’ve been able to get with the man- but not too close. You were a professional.

Crocodile was the most interesting one. He was the least into the music, you learned early on being a part of the band was a means to an end for him. But that didn’t stop him from being talented. You would catch him drumming on his desk while he worked, complicated rhythms mindlessly and effortlessly played. You made sure every bit of paperwork was always in order and ran every big picture idea through him. Buggy may be the vocalist- but Crocodile was the leader. It wasn’t often you got any sort of praise or even acknowledgment from the man but when you did you couldn’t help the way your stomached tumbled over itself. You’d have to stamp down those stupid feelings every once in a while, because when you’d let them linger they’d follow you home and into bed.

It was fine though, to indulge occasionally. When it was just you alone in your apartment you could fantasize that one of those men would pull you aside and take you home with them. Imagining Buggy’s mouth on you- Mihawk’s long fingers in you- or how Crocodile’s large body would feel caging you in.

It was fine because it was never going to happen. They were rockstars and you were just their manager. You would never sleep with any of them.

That is until you ended up sleeping with all of them.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

ope.. i got brainrot while driving into work again so here's a rockstar!eddie steddie blurb that goes with this song.

cw for possible refrences to suicidal ideation depending on how you interpret the lyrics (more literal or more metaphorical)

pairing: steddie | word count: 840 | rated: M

The first time Eddie tells Steve he loves him, it’s while they’re awash in the afterglow; Eddie’s still half sprawled over Steve’s bare back with his finger tracing patterns idly over his skin.

“I could trace enough constellations on you to get from here to Mars.” he says as if voicing a thought rather than to Steve.

“Oh yeah?” He snorts.

“Mmhm. And I’d love you from here to there too.”

The steady movement of Steve’s back shudders to a stop, his breath faltering. “Oh yeah?”

A new featherlight touch grazes the skin between his shoulder blades. Eddie’s lips. “From here to Mars, sweetheart.”

Mars becomes a thing between them, and between them alone; “Love you to Mars, Stevie,”, “I love you all the way back home, Eds.” or after some bigot gives either of them grief over their relationship, “Let’s just run away.”, “To where?”, “Hmm. I dunno, maybe Mars?”

So when Eddie has enough of Hawkins, when he does run, and his note is devoid of any reference to their neighboring red planet, it’s crushing.

Steve finds out from Wayne that Eddie and the boys had gone to New York, a two album contract for their band too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He’s jaded and hurt for a long time. Well into Corroded Coffin’s rise to worldwide stardom, and the feeling lasts until a headline in the aisle of the grocery store catches his eye. It screams ‘CORRODED COFFIN’S NORTH AMERICAN TOUR CUT SHORT.”, but there are more: “Frontman Eddie Munson checks in”, and “Eddie Munson: More substance than substance?”.

He and Robin are in Chicago now, running a small bookstore/coffee shop, and Jeff gets in contact with him.

“He’s okay, he’s already doing better. I figured you’d want to know.”

Jeff says it’d been getting worse and worse until Chrissy (who had long been the Robin to Eddie’s Steve, and who’s now his manager) had had enough and sent him off to get help. “He’ll be back sooner than later, I’m sure.”

The next anyone besides Chrissy hears from Eddie, it’s on the radio. A new song from Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson that’s nothing like anyone had ever heard from him. 

Steve hears it first when he’s preparing to open one day, that’s part of the reason why it comes as such a surprise. He has never tuned the shop radio to anything other than the mainstream channels, not wanting this exact thing to happen and hear the voice of the man that broke his heart to pieces.

“Up next, a change of pace from the currently still elusive Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame,” the announcer says as the song starts in behind him. Steve freezes at the name. “You heard of this guy? He and that band of his had been making waves in the metal scene for years now; and he’s reportedly been checked out of rehab for a couple months without anyone hearing anything from him. Until now.”

The song starts for real now, the acoustic fading into the background as a voice so unmistakably Eddie, his real southern twang leftover from growing up in Tennessee shining through, breaks through it.

Steve’s so floored at hearing his voice again, that he doesn’t really register the lyrics until Eddie croons out “What if I run away to Mars?”

“Mars.” Steve breathes out.

Eddie is singing about Mars.

Steve had always assumed he was forgotten. That after the years of fame and years without him, that the memories Eddie had of him would be locked away just as tight as Steve’s of Eddie were.

He can’t even continue to think about it because Eddie keeps going, “Would you find me in the stars? Would you miss me in the end, if I run out of oxygen?”

Eddie’s singing on his own, it’s just him and his guitar and his own backup vocals and he sounds so horribly sad.

Eddie’s not okay. Eddie’s not okay! Where is he? Where did he go after getting out of rehab?

Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, leaning heavily on the front counter now for support, and searches frantically for Chrissy’s number.

He’s hoping she hadn’t changed it when Eddie’s voice comes back in over his guitar, “I can't tell which way is home, I've been gone for so long..It's an empty world up here“

Steve freezes again.

He listens to the entire rest of the song there. Phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button, and heart however many miles away to where Eddie is.

“Three, two, one, I miss you..I'm sorry I got issues” Eddie sings.

Steve finds himself thinking ‘I miss you too’ and ‘It’s okay.’

Eventually, the song ends with Eddie’s voice only. No backup instrumentals, only his voice crooning harmonically with himself 

“Would you miss me in the end if I run out of oxygen? When I run away to Mars..”

He presses the button.

“Steve,” She says in a surprised greeting, “Hi!”

“Where is he?”

star divider is from @saradika

short little part 2 here! | also on AO3

[mayonnaise2004]

Meeting & Dating Dwayne Headcannons

( I need this man to put me into a headlock until I pass out.)

- Most of the bands on the boardwalk gave Dwayne a headache. Yeah, the vocals were nice but the unnecessary amount of riffs made him annoyed. So when The Cure was announced to have a show on the stage, it was a relief.

- The concert went well. The atmosphere was a lot less chaotic than when hard glam rock was playing.

- He was so deep in the music as he walked he didn’t even realize he had bumped into someone and caused their drink to practically explode on them.

- He immediately began to apologize, but went quiet when he saw you. You were gorgeous beyond belief, Almost living up to the image of Elvira (in his eyes of course.)

- He put his jacket around you, and offered to buy you another drink to replace the one he so clumsily ruined.

- The two of you spent the rest of the night talking, and you had a lot more in common than Dwayne thought. Turns out you had lived in Santa Carla for some time now, but just got used to the boardwalk. And you also liked The Cure! (+1!)

- He had to leave when he noticed the sky turning orange, he of course thanked you for your time and the great night.

- He let out a dreamy sigh when he returned to the cave, hanging upside down and getting ready to sleep. The last thought on his mind was a prayer he would see you again..

- He noticed you more at the boardwalk when he went with the boys, and every so often he would walk around with you. Maybe even give you a ride back to your place before he went back to the cave.

- He did eventually end up asking you out with a dinner date. Not too cheesy but still charming of course..

DATING HCS:

- He is enamored with you. He’s your Gomez Adams.

- Adding onto this, Dwayne doesn't believe in imperfections. Do you have stretch marks? He has scars! You're a little chubby? MORE TO LOVE!!

- Will become the definition of (😳🤭) if YOU grab his necklace

- He’s not afraid to vamp out on someone if they harass you at the boardwalk.

- He has a signature scent. (Cologne, Hairspray/hair products.) so don’t expect to leave the cave without his jacket on, or drowned in his cologne.

- Laddie treats you like a parent, and it makes his undead heart swell.

- He’s trying to persuade you to turn with him.. it’s not working very well.

- (Headcannon) Dwayne has two foreign languages. German and Ojibwa. So pet names are more common in either of those than English.

- He’s very possessive at the start of the relationship. If Marko or Paul even look at you the wrong way he’ll snap

- Burying your face in between his pecs when he’s annoyed will immediately melt away any negative feelings

- Dancing to 1950s love songs.

- wearing each other’s jewelry/ him making you some

[lonelyasawhisper]

Queen: A Night At The Garden

Kris Nicholson, Creem, 1st May 1977

Queen's music is like strong mouthwash. It takes my breath away but that initial rush is as temporary as it is abrupt. This probably has something to do with the discrepancy between what Queen is and what Queen would like to be. Queen IS a good studio band-cum-variety show with a flair for novelty, a patent on mock opera and Rock of Gibraltar guitar harmonies. What they would like to be is a good studio band and a great live act. Unfortunately they've mastered a studio perfection that does not lend itself to accurate live interpretation. Whether or not they choose to approach the two mediums separately, the fact remains: kids are amazed at Queen records and they expect to be doubly amazed by their concerts.

If Queen—without the assistance of tapes—could reproduce their studio sound live, they'd certainly be one of the most impressive bands on the rock scene. But they can't and they aren't and it's the vocals that cause most of the problem. They'd need at least five Freddie Mercurys [Aaargh!—Ed.] to do it right. (Imagine Mercury quints; five golden-throated, leotarded, stiffly posed fools.) If only Freddie Mercury could sing two notes at a time!

There is a gadget known as a harmonizer that provides a delayed echo and allows Freddie to harmonize with himself, but this effect has its limitations and is reserved for special occasions like "Killer Queen" and Freddie's spotlight solo in "White Man."

Lacking a consistently believable production of their music, the least Queen could do is compensate for aural imperfections with visual delights. Try as they might, their use of flash pots and strobe lights is old hat and the five basic postures in Freddie's crude ballet are amateur still life, pale in comparison to the volume and the ideas of the band's music.

Let us proceed to the actual scene of a Queen concert and see if we can discover just what keeps this band alive.

It is February 5th at Madison Square Garden. I see a sign bobbing and weaving through the upper aisles of the arena. At first it looks like it's moving of its own free will and then two heads become visible at either end of the banner. This is a familiar one. In three-foot high letters it boasts, "Queen is King." Behind and way above me, up in those seats in the clouds, (that us rock writers never get stuck in) there are two more signs held by fans. They read: "Queen A Night At The Garden" and "Queen Takes My Breath Away."

I wonder how many of these kids have seen Queen before. Will they be disappointed? Darkness sets in. The PA system blasts solo piano recital music that eventually fades into a tape of one of those majestic guitar intros Brian May likes to embroider around the beginning of his songs. The first chords of "Tie Your Mother Down," hit like thunder, maybe even induce butterflies in the stomach, temporarily.

The image of Freddie Mercury strikes. Decked in some kind of baggy white karate jump suit the singer looks sexier than he ever did in those ridiculous striped suspender shorts. For a moment Freddie has me believing that he's cut his overbearing physical exposure from the act. But by the third song he's stripped down to a second skin of white, commonly known as leotards. In Freddie's case they're pain in the ass leotards. Every five minutes he becomes distracted as a leotard strap shimmies down his shoulder. He searches for a moment when he can inconspicuously slide it back up before the whole damn thing falls off. Unfortunately Freddie is not cool about it. By the end of the set I'm almost more intent on calculating the next time a strap will drop and how he'll get it back up, than I am on hearing the music.

Freddie is a strange cookie on stage. He waves his magic wand (actually it's a mike stand but you can use your imagination) and the flashpots explode. No big deal. Personally I think the Wizard of Oz had better flashpots and that movie was filmed decades ago. Freddie addresses the audience, "Listen my darlings, let me do the talking for a change." Yecch! Too coy. I don't believe him.

"Somebody To Love" comes early in the set. This is what is called strategy. It comes early in the set because it's impossible to do justice to in concert. If everything else goes right, by the end of the show the kids will have forgotten how punchless the live version is in comparison to the lush production that stole thousands of AM hearts.

Deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent.

Besides Freddie, the only really visible member of Queen is Brian May. May is the exact opposite of Mercury— a real Yin-Yang combination. In the words of Chuan Tzu, "The perfect negative principle is majestically passive (May). The perfect positive (Mercury) is powerfully active...the interaction of the two results is that harmony by which all things are produced." Somehow it DOES work.

Wanna puck? Monreal Mercurys owner displays the franchise's new uniform. (Note the hand-tailored sleeves and custom-fitted mouthpiece).

May appears silent and serious. He plays guitar as if he were studying constellations. There is nothing silly about him. Even the starch in his Elizabethan white shirt fits. He looks elegant, contemplative, (a misplaced 18th century poet?) and yet he plays with all the erotic energy and guts of the heaviest and dirtiest of rock 'n' rollers. You could say he doesn't look like he sounds. But this inconsistency serves to make his character all the more enchanting.

During "Brighton Rock" Brian takes a long solo. With the use of two echoplex systems he manages to produce the sound of three guitars. It's a well-crafted solo with lots of showmanship and lots of clean, thoughtfully executed riffs. He hardly moves while he's playing. All the energy is flowing from head to fingers. It's one of the few moments in Queen's set where nothing threatens to cancel out the emotion of his playing. Looking back on this a moment later, it's easy to understand what Brian has in mind when he says, "I want to be good in the sense of being more expressive."

Queen dares to attempt May's Mccartneyish " '39." It doesn't fare too well. Freddie sings it. Freddie sings all the songs. Funny, on the record Brian sings " '39." Maybe he feels that singing would be too much of a diversion while he's playing guitar.

In introducing "You Take My Breath Away," Freddie announces, "Maybe next time we'll come back with an orchestra." (While he's at it I hope he remembers to bring a choir, too.) Freddie adds, "You are what we call our sophisticated rock audience." Is he laughing because he knows it's a joke or is he uneasy because that's what he'd like to believe?

Imagine (Freddie) Mercury quints; five golden-throated leotarded, stiffly-posed fools.

Meanwhile the set has been embellished with intermittent gimmicks; a roadie hands a triangle to bassist John Deacon to hit one solitary note. What drama! Brian May plays a ukelele for five seconds during the band's instrumental version of "Bring Back Leroy Brown," etc. etc.

Freddie's vocal exhibition in "White Man" is impressive. He manages to sound like a voice and an instrument at the same time. It offers substantial evidence that deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent. Too bad he has to mask it in such demeaning external distractions as his unsteady Ian Anderson pose and his off-time dances to the music.

"Bohemian Rhapsody" is the evening's anti-climax. When the song reaches the really ornate vocal rounds Freddie disappears from the stage and all twenty thousand of us are left sitting in the dark. It's like faking an orgasm (need I say that the real thing is so much better?). Of course this maneuver is done so that Freddie can change his costume but it doesn't sit too well with me, not to mention the fifteen-year-olds behind me who think they're being ripped off. After all, they can hear the record at home. They want to see Queen do the humanly impossible, and when they're slipped a fast one they know it. "This is unforgivable," says one kid. "Yeah, they're gonna haveta do somethin' big to make up for that," his friend replies. Hear that, boys? You can't fool Mother Nature.

Freddie returns in black tights. He looks much better in black, especially now that he's got one of those real slick short hairstyles. White is too feminine. Again, strategy saves the day. The kids have been screaming for "Stone Cold Crazy" all night and now, when they're feeling cheated, "Stone Cold Crazy" will pacify them.

"Stone Cold Crazy" is perhaps one of the most breathless hard rockers that Queen does (on record) but somehow it loses its bite when a series of strobe lights begin to flash to the beat and eventually wind up totally off-beat, turning the frenzied effect into gaudy confusion.

Freddie dedicates "Keep Yourself Alive" to the audience. "Liar" is followed by "In The Lap Of The Gods." There are two encores, so l'm told. I didn't stay for them. I came to see if Brian May still knew what he was doing—I didn't need any more Mercury shenanigans.

We turn now to the scene of the post-Queen party. It's held at Oh Ho So in So Ho and it's so-so. Freddie is reputed to have a fascination for the Oriental and that's as good a reason as any to jam 500 press people into a 250 capacity restaurant. The food in this joint is really good, I come here all the time. But food is not what I'm interested in. Standing well over six-feet-tall, Brian May is easy enough to spot but he's busy holding court. I can barely justify barging in on the ladies in waiting, the men in waiting, the fans in waiting...later.

"Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio."

In the meantime my friend Liz and I have decided that we're going to corner Freddie and ask him what brand nail polish he wears. She sees someone she knows who knows who we want to meet (Freddie) and she manages to get introduced while I play voyeur. Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and women... Freddie's nails aren't black or white. They're just old plain old fingernails. But, we do manage to find out that Freddie has been asked to pose with Mr. Pumping Iron himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whether or not the event will take place is still a mystery. Freddie wasn't giving any clues.

Queen poses at left, shortly after Brian May's guitar mysteriously exploded sending slivers of wood and steel into the eyeballs of the rest of the group, causing temporary blindness. The matter is under investigation by Scotland Yard. Below, Roger: "Aye likes to put me boogies in me pant cuff 'cause it keeps 'em clean...Wot about it?"

Freddy: "Aye think ee wants one on 'is lens, eh?"

After at least an hour of anxious waiting for parking space beside Brian I finally score. Yes, he remembers doing the interview last year, but he says I look different. Yes, it must be the glasses. I don't have them on tonight. I'm blind as a bat but you know what they say about girls who wear glasses.

Pulling no punches; I explain to Brian that I'm doing a Queen story for America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine. I am totally understanding as he apologizes, "We haven't been doing interviews 'cause we're so busy. We're playing all big concert halls and we're in a different city every night. We travel about five hours every day. It's just too hectic." If he wasn't such a nice guy I'd be saying, bullshit, everyone else does it, but he is SUCH a nice guy and I sympathize with every word he says. Two points for the power of smooth talking.

I proceed to find out that the next album will NOT be named after a Marx Brothers movie, that Groucho owns an official Queen II jacket and that Queen will be meeting him in L.A. Rock on Groucho!

On the subject of the band's incessant use of gimmickry, Brian comments, "A Day At the Races can be seen as an extension of A Night At the Opera". Though last year Brian's favorite album was Queen II, this year he professes to like A Day At The Races despite its similarities to Opera. He had once expressed discontent with Opera due to the switch of emphasis from guitar riff-based rockers to experiments with instruments like the Toy Koto, the genuine aloha ukelele and "Good Company's" guitar jazz band, not to mention Freddie's obsession for music in the movie musical genre.

A Day At The Races is the first self-produced Queen album. Previous albums had been stamped with both the band's name and that of Roy Thomas Baker—the man who served as scapegoat for numerous accusations regarding overproduction. A Day At The Races bears a pattern of excess remarkably similar to that of A Night At the Opera. Of producer Baker, Brian said: "We grew together and now we've got our own things to do. We always had a lot to say about the production anyway," he added, hinting at the possibility that Queen's vices have long since been self-inflicted.

Considering the vast amount of time and money spent on studio technique it is not surprising to discover that even before May had heard the influential playing of guitarists like Page and Hendrix, he was fascinated by Phil Spector's productions. "They were very emotional and very slushy," he explains with a gleam in his eye. Strange combination this romanticism, this background in astronomy, this technician who built his own guitar from the wood of an antique fireplace, this man whose songs are to him "very personal." Strange that all these experiences convene in one brain and come out with a split vote, half in favor of the schmaltzy sentimentality of numbers like the Beatle-ish "Long Away," the other half thrashing out in malevolent waves of heavy sound and male chauvinism, witness "Tie Your Mother Down."

Getting back to the matter of production. Brian recognizes the discrepancy between the live and studio version of a song like "Somebody To Love." It doesn't seem to bother him. Being dead set against the possibility of a live album, why should he worry as long as he's so busy filling big arenas that he doesn't have time to do interviews. Still, his heart is into making good studio recordings. "If we did a live album, it would have to be really good, but I can't imagine it. I think live albums are a cop out." He pauses and smiles, "Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio." This was all said with a degree of sincerity that I'd like to believe but a conflicting report challenges his position. Reliable sources seem to believe that Queen is considering the possibility of recording live in Japan this summer with the able assistance of none other than Roy Thomas Baker.

So Queen and success have met. So far the two are getting along. A year ago Brian May proudly announced that the only tape the band used was "God Save The Queen" at the beginning and ending of concerts. "We don't like the idea of using tapes as backing tracks," he explained. Considering the role tapes play in their current show, suffice to say times have changed.

A year ago Brian believed there were things Queen could do in a small theatre that they could never do in Madison Square Garden. "When you start playing those places you have to change your whole act. A group can become like a picture in a frame. Communication in arenas is much more difficult and needs to be approached carefully." Now that Queen is playing only big arenas Brian expresses a feeling of comfort within the new atmosphere, explaining that the band feels geared towards it now. Queen certainly manages to fill large halls with sound but whether they know it or not, they've not mastered a way of filling their new frame with a coinciding picture.

It's deadline day and devoted soul that I am I've taken it upon myself to listen to all the Queen albums in order. The first two are a breeze, Queen bouncing from melodic early Yes style to heavy Led Zep riffing and then on to the sledgehammer stance of Deep Purple at their most menacing.

By Sheer Heart Attack the seeds of gimmickry are planted and they begin to grow like a small malignant cancer. Freddie Mercury has stopped singing about mercury and biblical references are less frequent. The band's image becomes less majestic, more decadent, killer Queen, and then a complete turnaround with A Night At The Opera wherein the boys abandon guts for cutesy cleverness. It is by this album that Queen have become definitely Queen. Maybe the novelty twist is their only surefire approach to originality: heavy metal novelty? A Day At the Races, as accounted for earlier, is more of the same as Opera.

I can still hear Brian talking about Jimi Hendrix with a sense of awe: "He was the man." At the same time the image of Freddie comes into view. He is posing for pictures. He keeps an eye on his reflection in the mirror. He primps his jet black hair and snickers in a barely audible but intentional tone, "Got to keep up the image." It's hard to imagine a more diverse marriage of ideas. It's transient, it's experimental and it's confusing as hell.

Ever since their 1973 debut I've followed Queen. I've reviewed every album with enthusiasm and then somehow forgotten them until the next release reminded me that I like the last one. I get all excited when a Queen record comes out, but it doesn't last. What's the answer? Staying power? Preservatives? It's driving me stone cold crazy.

Retrieved from The Creem Archive

[some-triangles]

SOUNDS OF 2024

My ferret wife and I were driving down 82nd listening to KINK FM 102. If you are not familiar this is a radio station that specializes in a particular vocal type - it's a voice that transcends genre, ranging from alt rock to white blues to what I can only describe as the Mumford zone - but the key point is that you will not understand a word the singer is singing. Think Hootie, or Eddie Vedder. Crunched through car speakers it's a sort of audio spackle that tickles the brain with the occasional half-recognizable phrase.

Every six or seven songs, though, they play a classic from the 80s or 90s. On this day we got lucky and it was Major Tom by Peter Schilling. You don't think you know this song, but you do. It's the one where the chorus goes like

Prior to this moment I'd occasionally gotten the "earth below us" bit stuck in my head without having any idea where it came from. Making the connection activated something in my brain and, consequently, in the youtube algorithm, and for the rest of the year all I cared about was Neue Deutsche Welle.

I fell in love with the singer from Trio - no longer with us, sadly. This is a band that you will know from their international hit Da Da Da Ich Liebe Du Nicht Du Liebes Mich Nicht Aha Aha Aha. If you're my age you'll remember this tune from Pepsi commercials, but like Chumbawamba, Trio were a weird art punk band with a fluke chart topper rather than your standard one-hit wonder.

Stephan Remmler was so fucking handsome, you guys. And his tragic Weimar cabaret clown of a drummer. And his mysterious, weirdly femme guitarist.

So I went on a dive. As a whole there is more cod reggae (kraut reggae?) in the NDW catalog than I'm comfortable with but other than that it's a true flowering of DIY weirdness. Start with 99 Luftballons and just keep going... the wall should never have fallen, you guys. RIP to the gulag archipelago but global culture never recovered from glasnost.

Anyway that's what I was listening to this year, except also Kendrick vs Drake happened and suddenly hip hop is good again. You don't need me to tell you about this - there are ten million youtube essays you can watch. I'd just like to encourage everyone to keep an eye on Tyler the Creator moving up as a dark horse candidate for commercial AND artistic success of next year. And that's the really miraculous thing about Kendrick - I can't remember the last time an album I really liked had five songs in the top 10 at once. Because it's never fucking happened before!

Music nerds bouncing off GNX are cheating themselves out of a rare opportunity to like something popular. (Maybe that's why they're bouncing, actually.) But it's undeniable stuff.

Painfully beautiful, and this isn't even what he's supposed to be best at. Pop music is fun and interesting and deep again. You can't relax for a second - even now that Drake has been chased out of rap into the right wing influencer sphere and courtroom trolling, Things are still happening. Christmas day, Tyler smokes Kendrick on his own beat:

And where's Vince Staples? Surely he's got a statement album coming. I haven't even gotten a chance to listen to scHoolboy Q's Blue Lips enough times for the ink to sink in. I've always been a west coast guy where rap is concerned, mainstream or indie, and I've been eating so good...

It's been a great year for me and music, basically. A lot of this has been due to picking up crumbs from Ferret Wife's Kendrick obsession and various other treats she's brought me. From a creative standpoint I've made nothing ambitious but steadily cranking out jingles and silly parodies has made me a better player and singer than I've ever been, and surely there's a sensitive guitar man album in me waiting to come out.

In the meantime please enjoy my contribution to this year's Exit 605 Christmas Album.

[spaceorphan18]

Sketch of a Crack Fic called : Dearest Gentle Family (written with @ckerouac )

Eloise and Colin have a sign up sheet for Penelope time

Eloise: It is clearly 3 o'clock, it is my Pen time.

Colin: But she is my wife.

Eloise: And your point is...? Do you have your name down in the 3 o'clock slot *holds up paper* you do not. Pen, we are going. Good day, brother.

4pm -

Colin: It is 4pm, and my name is clearly on the sign up sheet.

Eloise: Go away, we're discussing the new Jane Austen.

Colin: *takes off shirt*

Pen: Sorry Eloise, wife duties.

Eloise: Brother, you clearly are the worst.

5pm:

Eloise *comes crashing through the door* - oh, ew, why are the two of you always in some state of undress.

Colin: If you didn't barge in unannounced and uncalled for you wouldn't witness things that aren't for your eyes.

Eloise: It is 5pm.

Colin: We haven't even finished....

Pen: Actually, I have finished.

Eloise: I don't know whether I should be amused or alarmed. At any rate, it is my turn and Jane Austen awaits.

Colin should intrude on Jane Austen time. Eloise said with a grin that he should leave unless he has something to contribute to the conversation but JOKE’S ON YOU he’s read the book and ready to discuss themes

Eloise: You read it?? You actually READ IT???!? *bickering continues and intensifies* *meanwhile, Penelope slips away and enjoys a nice hot bath and some peace and quiet*

Because they are both grown ass adults but also ✨siblings✨ Violet should get pulled in with each insisting that she make the other ‘see reason’ and she’s all ‘oh… no, not going to do that’

With Pen leaving notes of ‘dearest gentle family members - pull yourselves together’

They both have to appeal to Violet :

Eloise: It's a matter of principle, really, mother. Don't you believe that women should band together and support each other in their own endeavors? We should be able to join together and live our lives without always bowing to the needs of the opposite sex.

Colin: She. Is. Still. /My/. Wife.

Eloise: Spoken like a true man...

And you know Anthony and Benedict get involved

Anthony is team Colin - of course he should be able to adore his wife whenever she may need adoring. Benedict is team Eloise - fuck the rules and go have fun

The Featherington sisters would ask if they could join the book club and Eloise agrees vocally as she’s trying to one-up Colin only to regret this decision almost immediately

Portia and Violet are just at a loss what to do...

And the other siblings - Daphne is totally team Colin, Hyacinth team Eloise, Francesca stays out of it but plays intentionally dramatic music in the background. Poor little Gregory just wants everyone to be happy.

And of course, Pen LOVES all of it

the end is totally the Dearest Gentle Family moment

The end has to be Pen spending time with Lady Danbury (with maybe Simon and Kate commiserating)

[sleepanonymous]

i saw in a passing comment somewhere, i believe it was on a video of iv’s vocals in rain, someone said he previously did harsh vocals in another band and my brain.. oof. if that is indeed true i wish there was a way to listen to them without things being spoiled. but for right now if the closest we get to appreciating his growls are from rain, vore and tmbte we are blessed. and the antIVist performance, never forget 🙏🏻 that one altered my brain chemistry in the best way

I’m feeling ballsy today, I guess, so I’m gonna answer this one. Under the cut though, so people can scroll past if they wish 🖤

Okay Anon, ty for bringing this up because I’ve wanted to talk about this forever. It’s likely, of all the band's he's been part of, that the comment you saw was talking about an EP IV made with a total of five members from two other bands, one being Wilderness. (UK) and the other being another band that IV was a tech/guitarist for.

This group called themselves Mourn, and IV was the vocalist. They unfortunately only released four songs on an EP titled The Next Life. Mourn’s genre was metalcore, and they described themselves as delivering “a powerful sonic experience of crushing instrumentals, vicious vocals and relentless energy.” The lyrics have a heavily religious undertone, backed by the The Next Life’s artwork being a distorted rendition of the Annibale Carracci painting Christ Crowned with Thorns.

It’s unclear exactly who wrote what for Mourn, as all five members are listed as composers. There are also no credits to a producer, so the EP may have been produced by one or multiple band members as well. In Wilderness. (UK), Mourn’s bassist is credited as the lyricists, and Mourn’s drummer is credited as the recording, mixing, and mastering engineer. In a playthru video on the band’s YouTube channel, IV is the lead vocalist and he is backed up by the bassist (he’s definitely been working on breath control and stamina, compared to some recent videos of his screams in Rain). I was thinking about taking the Full Band playthrough on YouTube and editing IV out, but I have no energy for that 😅 I do have the ripped MP3 in the Lost Media folder, if you want to give it a listen.

The Next Life EP was released September 3, 2021, just a few weeks before TPWBYT. The band was only set to have played one live show, in February of 2022 supporting Decapitated, but it’s possible the band dropped out or the show itself was canceled. All I could find online for the date were some news articles/Facebook posts from the announcement but no photos or videos from the actual concert for any band listed on the bill.

It's theorized by fans that this band dissolved after IV left to focus solely on Sleep Token, but I’m not entirely sure that’s the case, or the sole reason. The first tour Sleep Token did in 2022 began in August, and the last tour they did ended in November 2021, so it’s not exactly like IV would have been incapable of performing with both bands. It wouldn’t be the only instance of one of the members of Sleep Token performing in multiple projects at one time.

I’m not confident enough to upload the music onto Tumblr, but I’ll happily share the band name and YouTube/Spotify links with anyone who asks. I ended up compiling the lyrics to the four songs on the EP in a Google Doc a while back for a fan who wanted to avoid IV’s name (since his name and face are plastered onto this band). Also, there were two posts from last month (? maybe September) that brought this band up, and I’m pretty certain they both had audio attached. Unfortunately, I could only find @kaddyssammlung's post for one song, and its the studio version of the same song I added to the Lost Media folder.

If anyone can direct me to the second post, please do so and I will link it here 🖤

I’ll leave you with this gem of a photograph from the band’s Facebook page. Man loves his hoodies and sneakers istg.

[luvangelbreak]

Sturniolo Triplets/Sam & Colby as a rock band

Nicolas Sturniolo Drummer

The drummer is the backbone of any band and Nick is for sure the backbone of the triplet's careers. He holds it all together exactly like a drummer does on stage and on top of that, he’s often the one breaking into song and tapping along in their videos. Drummers are known to keep the show running by guiding the rest of the band and I feel like Nick would hate to be in the spotlight so being a drummer would give him the perfect balance of involvement and hiding without the stress of being directly looked at on stage or otherwise.

Matthew Sturniolo Bassist

Matt is a bassist and if you disagree, argue with a wall because I don’t want to hear your wrong opinions. Bassists, like drummers, are some of the most crucial people in a band. They give the song a feeling you can get from any other instrument and it makes or breaks a song. Matt is also a bassist because although bassists are at the front of the stage, they are often in their own worlds as they lose themselves in the music. They aren’t seeking out any attention but they’re not going to be mad if they get it.

Christopher Sturniolo Rhythm Guitarist/Backup vocalist

I know so many people are going to say Chris should be the lead singer but I feel like Chris is not all that into singing. He’s a rap guy at heart and that’s why he’s perfect for a backup vocalist. He has pipes but he doesn’t have a very wide range so he could nail backup vocals in his range. He would also be the rhythm guitarist because keeping a steady flow with the music while singing would be great for his ADHD brain. Two things at once to focus on but neither of them are too hard that he would get overwhelmed.

Samuel Golbach Rhythm Guitarist

We know my boy Sam can play but I feel like if he were in a band, he would undoubtedly be the lead guitarist. He’s cool with going along with the rhythm guitarist but when he gets his moment to shine, he will bask in all of its glory. Lead guitarists often add life to a song and I think Sam being such an outgoing person, it makes perfect sense for him to play such a loud role in a band. He’s also already fire at the guitar so who knows maybe he will actually become a lead guitarist in a band one day.

Cole Brock Lead Vocalist

We know Colby can sing. That’s just a fact. Man’s has pipes. But the reason I put him as a lead vocalist is because he gives off such a confidence and charisma that is needed on stage. Half of a lead vocalist's job is bringing phenomenal stage presence and I feel like Colby would know exactly how to engage the crowd without making it tacky or tiresome. Even though he is an introvert at heart, he could snap right out of that and fall in love with the adrenaline of being a frontman on stage. He likes being the centre of attention and this is the best way to get it.

a/n: this is for my girl @muwapsturniolo she gave me so many ideas for these types of posts w her half-blood ones. lmk if u guys want any specific topics for me to put the triplets/snc as !! this also comes from my love of music and i feel very passionate abt this so if u disagree, ur wrong <3

[purestxblood]

𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢, 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥

"Do you love him?" Peter's words came out as if he were in disbelief that you could so easily be wed to another. You scoffed without thought, "do you love Rose?"

𝗘𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀. 𝗦𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁.

“So…this guy…” he said, his voice was nearly hesitant, curiosity overruling his tongue. He fumbled with his nearly empty beer bottle upon the bartop, toying the neck between his fingers while looking your way. His eyes were lingering everywhere besides your focus, trailing over every feature of your frame without landing upon my own stare. You knew the question brewing was burning the tip of his tongue, however, you waited, willing him to actually vocalize it aloud– full well knowing, the second he brought it to light, the notion would be a full blown reality.

Peter brought his bottle to his lips, swallowing a large gulp, finishing the remainder of beer. 

“Alekszander,” you finished for him. Though it nearly pained you to hear the strained name within your ex’s voice, the concept of him saying your new lover’s name seeming foreign, you couldn’t help the warmth that radiated your cheeks, hearing your fiance's name upon his tongue.

Fiance.

You thumbed the ring around your left finger, glancing down at the diamond. Once upon a time, you longed for the moment Peter placed the band upon your hand, never once expecting it to belong to another. Still, even after Peter, you never thought you’d fall in love again, let alone, get married. 

Peter’s attention followed yours to the ring upon your hand then drew to your face. “Yeah,” he muttered, placing his bottle down and motioning for the bartender to go another round. 

You followed suit, knocking back the rest of your beer before placing it next to his empty one.

“Do you love him?”

His question was aloof, merely as if he were asking how you enjoyed your Stella or the baseball game echoing from the flatscreen above the liquor cabinets across your way. You stared at Peter as he slouched over the bar, faking his attention upon the game. 

You scoffed without thought, “do you love Rose?” 

Those four words tasted sour and you couldn’t help the bitter sensation bubbling in your stomach. That, or it was the fact you were on your fifth beer with an empty stomach besides your lunch seven hours prior to now. Peter turned his head, meeting yours.

Your eyes bored into the other but you were the one who broke the fixational hold. The bartender placed your beers in front of you and you took the easy way out of breaking his hold to focus upon grabbing your fresh bottle and bringing it to your lips.

Peter didn’t say a word and out of your peripheral vision you could see him staring at you as you drank your beer. Your entire body felt hot, nerves tickling your insides more than the buzz you eagerly welcomed. 

The answer should have been simple – an easy quick yes.

However, as you sat here beside him, you found yourself once again fixated upon all the what if’s, all the feelings of the past you desperately hoped had dwindled. Your eyes trailed from the band upon your finger to your ex. When Aleksander proposed to you, you agreed without hesitation and tear filled eyes. However, later when you found yourself nude and tangled with him hours later into the night when he fell asleep, did you find your mind wandering.

You couldn’t help but imagine that it was Peter laying beside you. Many nights had been spent sharing a bed with him, plans of getting married, and starting a family. However, Peter’s fear of the worst being wed to a man in the service had gotten the best of him. You grew tired of waiting for the impossible with him. 

Peter let you go once he came to the harsh realization that he couldn’t give you what you wanted. No matter how much he loved you, he couldn’t be a husband; or so he thought.

Maybe he could have but rather than facing fear head on like he typically did with swords ablaze, he turned and ran like a coward. Hearing of his newfound relationship with Rose had broken your spirits. It was selfish of you to even feel saddened by it when you had moved on yourself. Still, it hurt knowing that there had been something this new woman could give him that you couldn’t. Something that he felt worth tying himself down too and trying to again commit to something serious.

Your hands fell into your lap and you sighed, “I’m sorry,” you uttered. You tiptoed on the words forming, you were hesitant but you needed him to know the truth… at least most of it. 

“You’re the only man I had ever truly loved Peter,” you admitted. “After you,” your eyes briefly met his, “I didn’t think I’d ever get that feeling again but with him…I felt something, I felt love, I–”

A different kind of love, one that didn’t nor would ever compare to the love of Peter’s, but as you both sat beside each other, you couldn’t find the will to spill the truth. It was easier to allow him to think otherwise. 

“I do love him,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t.”

｡°✩ 𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ✩°｡ | ☼☾⋆｡ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ｡⋆☾☼

[ssivinee]

➢ 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝙲𝚕𝚞𝚋 𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜

⚠︎ Directions ⇒ Main | Chapter 1 Abyss- A bond that formed during high school, the five girls met in their school's music club. One was a beginner guitarist who wanted to learn more about music and how to get better. The other was a girl with a passion for singing. The last two were girls looking for new hobbies.

On the other hand, you became friends with the four and excelled in multiple instruments, and they let you join their makeshift band. After all those years, you girls are doing your best to put your group's name into the world.

Cha Y/n 03' Liner | Vocal, Bassist, Maknae The so-called "Miss Popular Perfectionist" during her high school years you weren't able to make many genuine friends. This was especially something that became an issue for you during your first year until you managed to come across one of the older music rooms being used by the four girls.

You started meeting up with the girls every day, and they were all intrigued by your musical talents. Karina herself asked you to join their band as the official bassist.

Things Y/n has said: "You can talk shit about me. I'll just be your worst nightmare after." "Maybe if you used your brain before speaking, we wouldn't be hearing bullshit all the time." "I feel bad for you. Do your two remaining brain cells ever work properly?"

Yu Jimin, aka Karina 00' Liner | Drummer Karina wanted to graduate from school while making a statement for herself, so she took matters into her own hands. The first of the girls to join the club, Karina was actually the first person to talk to the music teacher about starting a band within the music club.

With Karina being one of the teacher's favorite fourth years, it was an easy start-up. She had the school providing the instruments. Karina just needed the people for the next step.

Things Karina has said: "I'm all for world peace unless you eat my food in the fridge or talk shit about Minjeong. Then it's war." "Sorry about Giselle, she can be a hot mess sometimes... she's just an extra hot mess today." "Are you here to join the band, or are you here to just try and get some head for tonight?"

Uchinaga Aeri, aka Giselle 00' Liner | Rhythm Guitar The resident "hot girl" of their school was Karina's best friend. The oldest herself asked the girl to join, and Aeri obliged willingly, wanting to learn an instrument for a long time now.

She had worked with Winter and one of the music teachers to become the guitarist she is today. Knowing nothing about holding an instrument, to becoming the rhythm guitarist of their band.

Things Giselle has said: "I had to pair the top and shoes, or else I would literally jump off a cliff. My reputation is on the line here." "So I play this cord and this cord, but what are the little turny thingies on the top?" "The pattern of your skirt was totally last season. It's spring in 2024. Get with the program."

Kim Minjeong, aka Winter 01' Liner | Lead Guitarist The shy third-year girl all those years ago is now currently Karina's girlfriend. She had previous basic knowledge of reading music and playing an electric guitar. Once she saw the dorky flyers of the music club looking for more members, she quickly joined without another thought.

She was the first to reach out to the music teacher, and she was happily taught, becoming one of the most well-known musicians in their school.

Things Winter has said: "Maybe let go of the guitar if you don't know shit :3." "I wouldn't let a man or woman come near me with a ten-foot pole. Jimin is the only exception." "I didn't know a girl who was literally so good at everything couldn't do something as simple as read between the lines."

Ning Yizhuo, aka Ningning 02' Liner | Lead Vocal, Guitarist The outgoing, extroverted second year of the band at the time. She always flaunted her vocal capabilities and wasn't afraid to speak her mind.

You and Ningning didn't have the best relationship when you first met. Ning was prideful and had a massive ego, so your presence kind of intimidated her. Along the way, Ningning found your love for music admirable and became your best friend.

Things Ningning has said: "I auditioned for the lead role in my musical theater class in middle school. The rest were told to just 'go home' 'cause I was so good." "This kid in my class, Gyuwon, asked me out in class today, and I just laughed in his face." "Y/n is the best friend who would hug me out of love or try to choke me 'cause of the stupid shit I say. There's no in-between."

[our-hextech-dream]

okay so like a heartsteel version of cherry doll scandal would PROBABLY make the most sense as an ezkayn or settez au bc kayn and sett are softhearted jerks but like. i don't wanna. 1 am nsfw ezyone cds (kinda) au rambles incoming. 🍋

yone accidentally finding out that ezreal jerks off to fanmade ASMR videos of his voice is so much more spicy than it being another member, imo. yone's not even a member of the band, his voice is nothing special (except to a very dedicated contingency of heartsteel's fanbase, he's finding out) and the video is just compilations of him talking from interviews and variety shows, it's not even anything inherently sexual in nature, but apparently it still gets ez off. multiple times.

okay, knowing about what his bandmate jerks off to is one thing, but then - what, if anything, should he do about it? he could pretend he never found out. no harm done, he could just let ez do his thing. everyone needs their alone time and whatever works is none of yone's business. but, hm... is it going to affect ezreal's ability to work with him if he makes a habit of it? (.... he hasn't already made a habit of it, right?) yone suddenly can't stop thinking about leaning over ezreal's shoulder to deliver some feedback, feeling him flush and shiver and knowing why his voice goes tense and faux-casual. "Careful, don't strain your throat." and his breath is hot against ezreal's ear and-

fuck.

is he even gay? he's never felt anything for a man before, and honestly, maybe he still doesn't? he tries to picture himself with aphelios, k'sante, sett, or kayn. heugh. okay, no. definitely not. so it's either just ezreal, or it's the novelty of knowing someone wants him... like that. probably the second one. he definitely isn't going to do anything until he figures it out.

but then, it's weird. it's surprisingly hard to gauge whether he likes ezreal or likes attention because ezreal actually... doesn't really act any differently towards him in public compared to the rest of the group, now that he's really paying attention. ezreal is touchy and affectionate and playful with everyone equally and he's never once been reticent or timid. rather than fulfill yone's lurid fantasy about accidentally turning ezreal into blushing shy mess, ezreal just pushes his face away when he gets too close and complains about how it tickles, and goes right back to perfect vocal runs without missing a beat.

so what is the truth?? how can it be that ezreal is the one who is so turned on by yone's voice that he can't help but touch himself over it, but yone is the one left flustered and hyperaware of every casual touch? and he KNOWS he's starting to catch looks from k'sante, with his horrible sixth sense for these kinds of things- it's so embarrassing to be the one on the back foot for the first time at his age. it's so bad that he even, briefly, in a moment of weakness, considers asking his brother how he knew his girlfriend was interested. he doesn't, though, because he can already imagine yasuo's face and it's insufferable. he'd rather die single.

and at this point it's starting to seem like he will. ezreal is not coming onto him, despite his secret attraction. in a weird way, it's starting to make yone feel like he's being used. ezreal obviously likes his voice, but what, is the rest of him chopped liver? sure, he also hasn't done anything to indicate that he might be interested in changing his relationship with ezreal, but it's different. he's older and he's the band's producer, it wouldn't be appropriate.

k'sante saves him, of course. one day while they're all just hanging out in the common area, k'sante flat out asks if ezreal has ever dated anyone or if he has a crush? what's his type? a cute hoobae or a caring sunbae? it clearly catches ezreal off-guard (mainly because he didn't think k'sante knew those words), which is probably the only reason why he doesn't call yone out for choking on his drink and suppressing a cough until his eyes water. but once kayn and sett taste blood in the water they're all over the singer. come on, ez! what IS your type?

"Uh, I think I would like someone older than me. Someone really responsible and mature."

yone feels like sinking through the floor. k'sante is casually sitting back like he didn't just open a can of horrible flesh-eating worms and dump them all in yone's lap. kayn says something about milfs and ezreal laughs. helpless and trapped, yone is forced to listen as the conversation turns to physical preferences. face or body or personality? what's the most important? kayn says face, sett says personality. when pressed, ezreal says a nice voice is a must. and then, finally, finally, yone catches a hint of color in those cheeks as a pair of golden eyes subconsciously flick over to him and just as quickly dart away.

how could he not be sure after that?

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 827: Shellac 1000 Hurts

This is a long and tough one, so I'll spare your timeline and force you to make the jump.

On February 21, 2001, one of my husband's closest friends was murdered by a man named Michael Gargiulo. She was stabbed 47 times.

Not surprisingly, my husband does not share my appreciation for slasher movies. I still feel like an asshole for dragging him to a midnight screening of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre on my birthday years ago. I was an idiot for not realizing that someone who lost a loved one in a brutal act of violence wouldn't find a film recreating that kind of violence entertaining.

"I don't enjoy the sound of people begging for their lives," he told me after the movie. I can't blame him. Even music with "tortured" vocals tends to get an immediate "can we listen to something else?" from him.

Transgressive art is a weird thing. People will always be drawn towards art that's shocking, forbidden, or taboo, but I also assume most people have a line they don't want crossed. I love Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but I hate Cannibal Holocaust. As far as music goes, I have a much easier time ignoring the cartoonish violence of death metal than I have sitting though music laden with brazen sexism or homophobia in the lyrical department.

Content aside, art gets even trickier when the artist's life comes under scrutiny. Again, I assume most people have a line they won't cross. You might not have an issue listening to Michael Jackson, but you would probably have a major issue listening to an artist who assaulted a member of your family. Or maybe you do have an issue listening to Michael Jackson. Maybe you also have an issue listening to an artist because of their political alignments. And maybe you have an issue with an artist simply because of something they've said in the past. There's no shortage of music out there, so why give your attention and money to assholes? On the other hand, artists are human beings, which means they've inevitably hurt someone in the course of their lifetime, so if we blacklist every artist who's ever done something hurtful, we're eliminating art from our lives. Everyone has a line, but I think any rational individual understands that the line will vary from person to person.

I've been thinking about transgressive art a lot since the passing of Steve Albini. The public overwhelming seems to mourn his loss, but I've seen a few people weigh in online with some valid criticisms: he was in a band called Rapeman; he said some sketchy things about child pornography in a zine back in the '80s; some of his lyrics reflected racist elements of society without taking a clear stance against them. Albini addressed these incidents later in life, acknowledging that though he was not advocating for the kind of behavior he was portraying in his art, the ambiguity that made his songs feel dangerous could also be construed as promoting or celebrating the subject matter.

By the time Albini got around to forming Shellac, he seemed to have shed the dodgiest parts of his confrontational persona. That said, I know a few people who take issue with Shellac's most popular song: 1000 Hurts album opener "Prayer to God." True to the title, the song is a literal prayer to God asking for the Almighty to kill the singer's cheating lover and her partner. It's essentially a murder ballad without the actual murder. Or maybe it's more in line with The Beatles and Elvis singing "I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man," except in Albini's case the majority of his ire is aimed at the male lover. It's a visceral song, and while it might feel cathartic for someone who's been betrayed by their romantic partner, it might feel too harrowing for someone who's actually dealt with a potentially dangerous jilted ex.

I played "Prayer to God" for my husband once. He wasn't a fan. To be fair, I don't think Albini's brand of minimalist tone-scrutinizing math rock was ever gonna be his cup of tea, but the lyrics certainly weren't going to help. Consequently, I reserve 1000 Hurts for times when I have the house to myself.

And ultimately, I would hope that his reaction to Shellac would be the kind of response we'd see in people who take issue with Albini. Simply put, it wasn't my husband's cup of tea, but he didn't try to convince me that I shouldn't enjoy it. Yes, Albini dealt with some ugly and uncomfortable themes, and by his own admission he took some of it too far. But his music was both a reflection and a reaction to the things he saw around him. Just as the slasher films of the '80s were a reaction to the era's conservative bent and puritanical attempts at censorship, so were Albini's songs (particularly with Big Black) a rebuttal of that decade's benign soft-rock FM radio staples, PMRC campaigns, and right-wing fundamentalist attempts to whitewash the media.

Much like those slasher films, Big Black has aged with an unexpected patina. Yes, there is something still "dangerous" about it, but that danger seems less rooted in pushing back at "the establishment" and more like it's picking at the wounds of the most vulnerable and injured parts of our society. Given even a minimal amount of context, I'd think the average person could appreciate its attempts to say "no, this world isn't perfect and we're not going to pretend that it is," even if those attempts are admittedly a little ambiguous and sloppy at times. But that kind of context doesn't arrive as a disclaimer on the album packaging, so its reasonable to understand how someone could find Big Black's unflinching first-person villain profiles to be a little problematic.

Consequently, I completely understand why someone would take issue with Big Black's "Jordan Minnesota" or Shellac's "Prayer to God." On the other hand, I want art to be uncomfortable sometimes, even if that unease is unintentional. There's no shortage of art out there that aimed to be progressive but aged to show the inherent biases of its time. Just consider the contingent of people wanting to change the racist language in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I'd argue that sometimes the shortcomings, biases, and outdated perspectives in an artist's work are as much a statement on the times as the actual subject matter.

Everyone has a line. And for a lot of folks, Albini probably crossed it a few times in the course of his career. For me, listening to Big Black or Rapeman or Shellac is like watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre---I don't need Steve Albini to explain his lyrics anymore than I need Tobe Hopper to explain that we shouldn't cut people up with chainsaws and turn them into human barbecue. But Albini also dealt with minor horrors that impacted a far greater percentage of the population, and that's something he had to reconcile and acknowledge later in life. For me, his charity work, fierce advocacy for marginalized people, and willingness to stand up to bullies in public forums offset any of his early artistic missteps, but I also understand that making art about human suffering is always going to elicit pain from people who have endured those particular trials.

Everyone has a line.