#teddy price

[onyxstorms]

♫You're just a wild guess in a see-through dress, I don't wanna hear you squealin' up my drive, It took guts to think that I would buy that wink, But that little thing you do just ain't right, More fun to miss than to be with, More fun to kiss than to be with.♫

Daisy Jones & The Six → Track 4 - I Saw The Light

[felixcatton]

DJATS Appreciation Week, Day 4: Favourite Platonic Relationship –– Teddy Price & Billy Dunne

At one point she said, “Do you honestly think you can’t write another good album without Teddy?” And I said, “I’ve never written an album without Teddy, period.”

[bumblesimagines]

Daisy Jones

by the time i woke up, you were gone.

i cannot mix my professional life and my personal life.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: No real warnings

"I'm tellin' you, (Y/N)." The quiet sound of the lighter flickering on and lighting a cigarette filled his ears. "This collab will be fuckin' historical." 

"I'm sure that's what everyone thinks, Ted." (Y/N) sighed as he leaned back into the plushness of the couch's cushion, his chin coming to rest on his palm in thought.

His manager had already given him the go-ahead to accept a collab with Teddy's newest rock band but he hardly found the idea of collaborating with a band so early in their newbie years enticing. Sure, they'd been a fairly popular band when they were just 'The Six' but Teddy had recently added a new singer into the mix. Too fresh, too new, too much possibility for drama. "I've heard them and they're good but.. you know bands can be difficult to work with. They all have something to say."

"You should give them a try, (Y/N). Brainstorm with Daisy and Billy, listen to the others mess around with their instruments, and then, decide if they're worth it or not." A cloud of smoke escaped Teddy while he spoke, his lips tugging up into a confident smile. As much as (Y/N) trusted Teddy and his ideas, he still remained unconvinced but he'd never been one to not experiment. 

A door in the distance opened and closed, echoing through the hall and followed by the noise of loud chatter. The band entered the room and their different conversations promptly died the moment they noticed him on the couch. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and stood up, bracing himself for the awestruck liners his fans always gave him; it soon followed with the youthful curly-haired guitarist's hand shooting out to shake his with a big smile and the typical 'big fan' tumbling out of his mouth. (Y/N) politely smiled and thanked them, shaking each of their hands as he properly learned their names. 

"Daisy should be right-"

"Here!" The newest singer of the band shuffled past her bandmates until she reached him, her eyes bright and twinkling with energy. He stared at her, his lips almost pursing as he finally realized why the name 'Daisy Jones' rang a bell the first time he'd heard Teddy mention her. Daisy stuck out her hand toward him with a soft giggle. "Hey," She greeted softly. 

Before he could say anything back, Billy slunk up to stand beside her. "We've got a song we've been tweaking for the past few days that I think you'd like. We could play it in the studio for you and see what you think about it." (Y/N) caught the way Daisy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Still a fresh band and already with tension, just as he expected. 

"Yeah, sure, sounds good." He nodded, returning Billy's smile with one of his own and watching the band hurry into the nearest recording room to set up their instruments and prepare themselves. Daisy lingered behind, motioning for the keyboardist, Karen Sirko, to go on without her before she turned to him, her brow lifting and lips curling into an amused smile. "Listen-"

"I thought I'd never see you again if I'm honest. By the time I woke up, you were gone and I didn't see you again at any of the bars or clubs. For a second, I thought you'd left for tour again and then, Teddy Price gives me a call to tell me we might be getting a collab with everyone's favorite rockstar. Crazy how the world works, huh?" Her head tilted to the side, her wild auburn hair swishing with the movements. 

"Look, Daisy, I enjoyed talking with you and all that but I cannot mix my professional life and my personal life. Everyone loves the sex, drugs, and chaos of being a rockstar but I don't like drama. It makes for a good article or song, sure, but it gives me a headache and I hate having to do damage control." (Y/N) explained softly, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "It's better to... be friends or at the very least amicable colleagues." 

"We can be friends." Daisy agreed with a nod. "But I don't think that'll last."

[darlingmarie3]

“Daisy Jones & The Six weren’t a real band stop crying over their break up.” Shut the fuck up they were real to me

[agentsofniceentrances]

Daisy Jones & The Six ft. Simone Jackson

Track 10: Rock 'n' Roll Suicide

[aew-regression-cove]

okay okay- I'm not gonna lie- I'm only up to episode 7 and I definitely have been thinking about CG Billy Dunne. HOWEVER all I've had on my mind since seeing these two on screen together is CG Teddy Price with (vent) Regressor Billy Dunne.

"I hadn't planned on being anyone's father" I'm sorry- but oh my god?

anyways- kinda hoping other people see my vision lol 🙏🏻 it's like half 2 in the morning so I should probably get offline now lmao but I needed to share this immediately 😂

Tagging - @half-eclipse , @daisy-jonesss

ⓘ if you want to reblog, let me know and I'll decide to temporarily unlock the post or not <3

[whenthep8wn]

Graham Dunne (nfsw alphabet.)

~~ Requested ~~

A/N: bear with me this Is my first time writing something smut related so sorry If it's bad.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare king. He will immediately gives you cuddles and kisses and then runs you a hot bath. I love him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of his body is his arms and fingers because of how proud he is with his guitar playing skills and his skills with you (wink, wink.) 

His fav of your body is your eyes, he just loves to stare into them for hours on end. Or your boobs to be honest he's a boob guy. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Gonna be honest he has a breeding a kink, so he loves to cum inside you. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Luke I said this man has a breeding kink, I mean he is a family man soooo. But, otherwise I feel like he is kinda ashamed or embarrassed about a lot of things when it comes to sex because I feel like he really doesn't like to talk about with other people that aren't you. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like my man was a virgin before the band started but as the six got more and more famous he definitely got more and more experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. Enough said.

I just feel like he loves to see your eyes and your facial expressions.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's pretty serious but he can be Goofy, because if something awkward or cute happens Graham will flash a smile and laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Lets just say the carpet does match the drapes, but i feel like he doesn't let it get our of hand like he trims and stuff. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very intimate likeeeeee…. Duhhh have you seen this man has is very rom-com Rose pedals in bed esc.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon).

He doesn't do it that much because he has you but when he's on tour or just misses you he does it, and imagine phone sex 🤭

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I've said this like 3 times already but breeding kink! Hehe. And I feel like he has a thing for sneaking around.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Either your guys house or like when you guys are in public you'll find a closet or something like I feel like he loves fucking in the closet at the recording studio.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This mother fucker like a God damn horny teenager so basically anything. 

When you say something sexually, when you lip your lips a certain way, when you keep eye contact, and especially when your cleavage is showing. Like I said mans a boob guy.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No pain kink. He would not want to hurt you and even If you said it didn't hurt you he still wouldn't be up for it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving. 

But when he does do it he eats you out like a starved fucking man, he loves the sounds you make and how your thighs shake from underneath him. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood you or him your on but usually slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Man's loves quickies.

Before practice, after practice, before you have to go to work, in the morning, before yall go to bed, ect. 

My man's lives for them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Yes. Most of the time atleast. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Like I said: horny mother fucker. So, mostly average Stamina, but when he really needs you he could be lasting a while. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have any himself but If you do and use them around him he will be jealous of an inanimate object.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does like to tease. Enough said.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is average-loud but he tries to cover it up. you're gonna have to get it out of him and believe me it's not gonna take much.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's a switch. 

(I wanna dom this man.)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average. (Like 6-8 inches.)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGHHH.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I feel like he does most of the time but not after taking care of you. 

[coneyislandbabey]

i don't need no beast of burden. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: excessive consumption of drugs and alcohol, profanities

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together.  word count: 3,847

NOTES: This is part (4/8) of the beast of burden series! Part 3 can be found here.

Also posting today as part of @djatsappreciationweek day one: fav character! Eddie my first love from the show 🫶

On the road, 1971

You woke up laying on your stomach on the bed in your hotel room, head throbbing and entire body aching so badly that you just want to roll over and die. Last night’s show had not gone well, and you went a lot harder than you usually did at the afterparty to forget about it. The remnants of the night were still visible around the room: a film of white powder clouding the glass surface of the side table, the sheer poncho you wore on stage thrown haphazardly over a lampshade in the corner, Warren knocked out on the floor with his sunglasses still on. You weren’t sure if he had started on the bed and fallen off at some point in the night, or if he’d just fallen asleep on the floor. The way last night had gone, both were equally plausible. 

You let out a groan as you pushed yourself up on your forearms, squinting your eyes at the light coming through the window. As you moved into a sitting position, your vision swooped and blurred as if whatever you’d done the night before still hadn’t worn off. Your tank top and jeans were sticking to your skin with sweat, and you felt rumpled and stale. You noticed with chagrin that your boots were still on your feet, gray shoe prints stamped into the white sheets. 

“What the fuck,” you muttered, and the vibrations of your vocal chords sent a headache shooting right up your neck and into your skull. 

“Shhh,” Warren sounded off from the floor. “Let me die in peace.” 

“The maid services won’t enjoy finding your body,” you grumbled, setting about the task of sliding out of bed and standing on your own two feet. This took you several minutes to complete. You stumbled like a newborn deer across the room and to the bathroom, shutting the door and pressing your forehead to the blessedly cool tile. 

After rallying yourself, you peeled last night’s clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. You took stock of the bruises on your legs and ribs, all in varying states of healing, none of which you knew the origin of. In the mirror, a woman stared back at you that you didn’t recognize: skin pallid, lips tinged an unhealthy blue, deep rings depressing the skin beneath the eyes, hair an untameable rat’s nest. You wished you could pretend you didn’t know when you changed from you into this woman, but you could pinpoint the very night. 

The fight. Eddie storming out. The two of you hadn’t spoken in the weeks since. Not even a single word. It was funny, you thought, how little the two of you actually needed to interact directly in order to complete your jobs. Not that you had been doing a great job of that, either. The chemistry that had existed between you on stage was gone; you avoided each other like two repelling poles. You tried your best, and technically you were all playing the songs correctly, but something was off. Well, that was the understatement of the year. 

You showered, scrubbing at your body until the skin was agitated and raw, doing your best to rectify the hair situation and wrestle this new, unfamiliar woman into something that resembled you at least somewhat. When you emerged from the bathroom, shower steam curling out and around you, Warren conscious and on two feet, holding two cups of black coffee. 

“We gotta be on the bus in fifteen,” he said, offering a cup to you. You nodded, taking it gratefully. 

“Alright, I’ll see you down there,” you agreed. Warren nodded and left. You sipped the coffee and closed your eyes, willing the caffeine to work you into a more functional person. Haltingly, you dressed yourself and grabbed all of your things from around the room, stuffing them into your bag and making your way down to the bus. You were touring the New York area opening for Rick Yates for a little while, which meant that when you got on the bus that morning, people were still drugged out of their minds and behaving like the afterparty was still in full swing. You collapsed into a seat near the front, the energy leached from your bones. What you needed right now was absolute quiet and a week of hibernation in a hotel room that nobody knew you were in, but. Well. You can’t always get what you want. 

The doors opened again, and you watched as Eddie climbed the stairs, walking past you to sit somewhere near the back without so much of an acknowledgement that you were alive. He didn’t look much better than you felt, tousled and sleep-deprived and very clearly still wearing last night’s clothes. A sour taste invaded your mouth, and you turned away, looking through the windshield instead. 

Briefly, you thought of standing up and dropping into the seat directly across from him, demanding his attention, demanding he acknowledge your existence. If only he looked at you, you thought, there would be a way for you to fix things. And maybe that was true, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take the first step. You hated the way that Eddie was behaving, sad and scorned, as though he wasn’t the one who walked away from you. As if he wasn’t the one who had decided your friendship was worth less than his wounded pride. 

The gig that night goes a little better than the night before, but there’s still something glaringly missing. You snorted a line of coke backstage as soon as it was over, closing your eyes and willing every emotion to drop away into oblivion as quickly as possible. 

“Hey, some chicks brought edibles, they said they’re crazy strong,” Warren said, suddenly at your side, his hand on your shoulder. “Ready to go back to the hotel?”

You nodded, the movement slightly off beat as you wiped your nose. “Yeah, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

You followed Warren and the small group of people he was inviting back to the afterparty to the hotel and up to your floor. The hall was dim, made murkier by your inebriated state, and you focused on Warren’s curly head in front of you, on the brightly colored dress of the girl with the edibles who was standing snugly at his side. 

Just as you reached Warren’s room, noise and movement from a little further up the hall caught your attention, and you looked up in time to see Eddie backed up against his door, a girl with long blonde hair pushed up against his front. Her hands were fisted in his shirt, and one of Eddie’s was slipped into the back pocket of her jeans, the other fumbling for the doorknob. She disconnected her lips from his for a moment to say something, and they both laughed. He got the door open, and for just the most fleeting second, looked up and locked eyes with yours. You tried to read anything on his face, in his eyes, but he had shuttered you out well before this. 

The pair fell into Eddie’s room, the blonde kicking the door closed with her foot. As you entered Warren’s room, you felt your senses sharpen. There was a pain in your chest alternating from dull to sharp and back again, and you kept running your hand across it, as though you would find a shard of glass or some other offending object lodged there. You were angry, you realized, even if deeper you were hurt. You zeroed in on the feeling; all you wanted to do was march across the hall and bang your fist on Eddie’s door until he opened it, you wanted to ruin his night, scream at him until you lost your voice, shout until he understood, because clearly he understood nothing. Instead, you grabbed two of the laced cookies the girl had brought, eating them one after another. Some guy was sitting on the bed and offered you another bump of coke, and you happily obliged. 

It was shortly after that, that the night began to slip away in an unrememberable blur. You took whatever was offered to you–which was a lot– not much caring what it was, to the point that even Warren, though he was pretty far gone himself, started to worry about you, intercepting drugs and booze before they could make it down your throat or up your nose. 

You woke up in the morning miraculously in your own room, feeling worse than you had the morning before. You stared up at the ceiling through bleary eyes, willing the intense pain in your head to ease enough to allow you to sit up. Vaguely, you registered that you were naked and laying on top of the sheet; there was someone sleeping next to you, but your fractured mind couldn’t call to memory who it could possibly be. You wished you had some adderall or something to help you get out of bed, but you knew in the long run it was only going to make your day worse. 

Slowly, you roused yourself into a sitting position, clutching your head and grimacing as more aches and pains made themselves known to you on the journey. Your nose itched, and when you took your hand away after scratching it, there were flakes of dried blood on your fingers. You vaguely recognized the guy in bed next to you as the one who first offered you coke last night. You had no recollection of talking to him after that, let alone bringing him back to your room or having sex with him. 

Fuck, you thought. All at once, it hit you that this… thing, this bender you had been on since your fight with Eddie those weeks ago, had become something too big, uncontrollable. Your body was crumbling under the beating you were issuing it, and you knew it wasn’t plausible to keep up the way you were for much longer. And yet, when you remembered Eddie stumbling into his room last night, that blonde attached to him like a sucker fish, you wanted to vomit, you wanted to seek out another bump of coke or anything else you could get your hands on in order to erase the images from your mind. 

Eddie woke up in his hotel room, a hangover headache pressing behind his eyes and a girl he didn’t know the name of wrapped around his torso. The feeling of dread he’d been waking up with every morning had, by this point, given way to a peculiar emptiness that he was sure meant nothing good for him. Slowly, he tried to extract himself from beneath the woman, but she stirred, stretching and lifting her head from his chest. 

“Morning,” she said, yawning again. 

Eddie sent an awkward smile her way. “Morning. Listen, uh, I have to get my stuff together and get on the tour bus in a minute, so…” 

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding once she finally caught onto his meaning. “I’m sure my girls are wondering where I disappeared to last night, so I better get home.” 

With that, she stood from the bed and dressed quickly, fixing her hair as best she could in the mirror before bidding him goodbye and slipping out into the hall. Once the door closed behind her, he flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered what you were doing at the minute, where you were, whether you were still asleep or maybe staring up at the ceiling of your own room too, and then quickly tried to banish you from his mind. Any thought of you smarted like a sore tooth you can’t help prodding. 

And yet. 

Ever since the fight, he’d been trying to pretend you weren’t there, because interacting with you was just too hard. Every time he looked at you he remembered that kiss, remembered how he’d felt like maybe he was finally, finally getting to have you in his life in the way he’d dreamed of for years, and then how you’d ripped the notion from him within seconds. He tried to understand where you were coming from that night. In fact, he thought about your words every day, turning them over in new ways in his mind. He came to the conclusion that he did get why you felt nothing could happen, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Eventually, it felt like his window to talk about these feelings with you had closed. He saw how his ignoring you made you angrier and more upset by the day, the chasm between you growing ever wider, and felt helpless to actually do anything to fix it. Each day he just felt more miserable, wallowing as he did in his own self-pity and heartbreak. He started bringing groupies back to his room every night in an attempt to forget you and try to move on, but he only felt sick every morning after. 

What made him feel the worst, though, was what he could tell was happening to you even from the rare glimpses he got of you these days. He saw the bruises, the grayish pallor your skin had taken on, the sunken skin under your eyes. The fog, the confusion, how you always seemed to be just adjacent to whatever was going on, but not exactly rooted in reality. You were strung out. You were partying too hard. You were losing your grip, and he knew it was because of him. He was a coward that couldn’t put his own heartbreak and misery aside in order to save you from the hole you were digging for yourself, and it was killing him. 

As he got dressed and gathered up his things to leave, he hoped that when he saw you on the tour bus, you would look better. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case. He hoped it every day, and it never was. The sick feeling was always with him now, and he didn’t know if it was caused more by the actions he did take, or the ones he didn’t. 

Los Angeles, 1972 

Los Angeles was going to be it for the band, you could feel it. Rock and roll was happening right there under your nose, everywhere, from the clubs and the bars to the studios. It was happening right there, and you were in it. Finally. 

Los Angeles, unfortunately, was not going to be good for you. As Warren pointed out on your first night in the city, after you all decided to fuck it and take Rod’s advice to move permanently across the country, it was way easier to score drugs in Los Angeles than anywhere else you’d been. And that means anything. And the way you’d been running, you knew that just simply couldn’t bode well. You wanted to regain control, to get back to normal, but it just seemed impossibly out of reach as long as everything else stayed the same. 

You were doing better, all told. There were some days where you did no drugs at all, days where you threw yourself into practicing your bass parts until your fingers bled. There were other ways to forget, you were learning. You were learning, too, how to cope with the situation with Eddie better. The loss of the friendship was still sharp, like gravel in your shoes or paper cuts on every finger tip, but you were learning how to not let it disable you so alarmingly anymore. But that fight was long from over and you didn’t see an end in sight. Really, you were afraid that something might happen to make you lose the sparse control you did have, and that being in L.A. would allow you to go off the deep end further than ever before. 

At the end of your first week in Los Angeles, once the house was fully settled, you woke from a nap to a knock on your bedroom door frame. When you opened your eyes, Camila, Karen, and Warren were crowded in the doorway, the expressions on their faces almost grim. 

“Be down in the living room in five minutes,” Karen said, and with that, they all disappeared down the hall. You sat up immediately, replaying their faces in your mind and wondering what could have possibly happened to have them all looking like that. 

When you got down to the living room, you saw the three of them standing in the middle of the carpet, looking like they were having some kind of conference amongst themselves. And then you saw Eddie, sitting on the couch looking flighty, and clearly also not knowing what was going on. You froze in the doorway, contemplating if you should just get the fuck out of the house to avoid whatever was happening, and knowing that even if you managed to escape for the moment, you couldn’t escape forever. 

“You. Sit,” Karen said sharply, pointing from you to the couch. The tone of her voice left no room for argument, so you obeyed, sitting as far from Eddie as you could manage while still being on the same piece of furniture. 

“Are you gonna tell me what this is about?” you asked once you were sat, the three of them standing there and looking between you and Eddie like they were sizing you up. 

“You really don’t know?” Warren asked, incredulous. 

“No, I really don’t know what the impromptu living room conference is about,” you responded, shocked by the undertones of anger coming from him. You hadn’t seen Warren be actually angry about something in, well, years. 

Camila stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest and that chastising look on her face that made you feel like you were disappointing your mother. “Look, none of us know what happened between the two of you, but it has gone on long enough.” 

Turning to address only you, she said, “If you keep on the way you have been, you’re going to end up dead.” She wheeled on Eddie then, saying, “and you, I’ve never seen someone more clearly miserable in my life. All of us are worried about what you might do next, and that goes for both of you.” 

“You’re scaring me, man,” Warren said, looking at you. Your heart pinched when you saw that fear in his eyes right then. “Some nights it’s like you’re not even there.” 

“You’re gonna sit here and talk out whatever the fuck happened,” Karen demanded. “And we’re all gonna give you some space to do it.” 

With one last mom-esque look, Camila turned and left the room, the other two following behind her. You sat looking at your lap for a moment, contemplating your options. You were angry that they’d tricked you into doing this today, but more than that, you were ashamed that they could see the depth of your problems and that it scared them. Perhaps you should thank them, for making you take the step you could never make yourself take. 

When you looked up, Eddie was already looking at you. The eye contact shot right through you, so strange after so much time of pretending each other doesn’t exist. You looked at him, trying and trying to find words, but they evaded you completely. What was there to say, after everything? So much. Not enough. 

“(y/n), I…” Eddie started, his voice rough. He swallowed thickly, started again. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry for the way I reacted back in New York. I’m more fucking sorry that I haven’t been there for you when you needed me. Watching you do this to yourself is…” 

You closed your eyes, trying to ward off the tears that were already threatening. It felt so good to have him talking to you again that you almost weren’t able to focus on the actual words he was saying. You tilted your head back in yet another effort to keep the tears at bay, a water laugh escaping you. 

“You have every right to your feelings,” you said, once you were sure that you weren’t about to burst into hysterics. “I should have been– I shouldn’t have let myself lean into that kiss when I knew that’s all it could be, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, as if physically deflecting your words. He shifted forward, a little bit closer to you on the couch but just barely, like he was afraid to come too close. “None of that matters! I’ve been selfish and a coward for getting stuck on that and doing nothing to– to–”

You leaned forward, resting a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. It hurt to see how worked up he was getting over the situation, and you wondered exactly what kind of hell it was for him to watch you these last few months while you tortured each other. “You’re not responsible for my actions, Eddie. You’re not responsible for how I reacted to what happened, just like I’m not responsible for how you did. It just… happened the way it did.”

“I regret that it happened the way it did,” he insisted. There were tears pricking the corners of his eyes when he looked at you. “I’ve missed you so fucking much. Feels like one of my arms was chopped off. I can’t think, I can’t play right, I can’t sleep. All I can do is just miss you.” 

You laughed again, a sound of relief, a sound of something thawing, something mending. “I missed you, too, Ed. More than you can know. More than I could handle, which is why, well, everything.” 

“I want you back in my life, (y/n). You’re my best friend, and this has been hell. I understand if you don’t want that, but, god, I’m ready to get on my knees and beg.” 

“That’s not necessary,” you assured him with a smile. “You’re my best friend and you always will be. Not even something like this could change that, okay? Let’s just start working on getting past it, yeah?” 

The grin Eddie offered you was brilliant. “Good. That sounds good.” 

That night, you were playing a show at the Troubadour. For the first time in months, you were completely sober before a show, and you felt good. Not just because of that, but because you were sure that, now that you and Eddie were on the mend, you would sound better on that stage than you had in months. 

It ended up being the best show you had played in months. You and Eddie were in sync again, playing near each other, to each other. Everybody else seemed a little shocked that their intervention worked but nonetheless entirely pleased, playing more enthusiastically than ever. It was so good, in fact, that it caught the attention of Teddy motherfucking Price. So good that it got you a record contract. 

Things were finally looking up. Way fucking up.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm @spidermanenthusist @mannstarkey @luvrgirl555 @toyourloves @thefemininemystiquee @how2besalty @vyctorya @neptunes-curse @littlehoneyfreak @itsjustmikii

[andreabaideas]

Headcanons for the DJATS characters middle names? I wish we'd gotten them, and not just Eddie's (Side note: Demetrius seems like a very out there middle name for him, I feel like he's probably embarrassed of it.)

Cool ask!!!

Yeah, I have them... I got to say that Demetrius sounds less typical than Edward, so at least Its original. I dont mind It XD I'll follow the show, cause It kinda inspires more ethnicity wise.

Well , lets start!

Eddie keeps his names the way they are so

"Edward Demetrius Roundtree"

Let's go with Camila :

I dont know how It goes on in all Argentina, but the female argentinians that I know that lives in Spain they usually have Only one name, or if they have two, then the second one Its either María or Isabel, so as i think Isabel sounds better combined with Camila, then It IS :

"Camila Isabel (née Álvarez) Dunne"

Lets continúe with Billy , Its easier for me , I kinda want It to sound Celtic so instead of the obvious Adam I went for Aidan, just cause I like the sound better. Also I was kinda tempted to name him Sam Finn or even Edmond ( nod to Sam Claflin and some of Its roles like Finnick or Edmond Dantes ) but I contained my weirdness XD

" William Aidan Dunne" (my prefered one)

Alts: William Finn Dunne / William Sam Dunne / William Edmond Dunne (This one actually sounds super cool too!!)

Continuing with Graham , he gets another one just cause I like the sound XD.

"Graham Cillian Dunne"

Warren won't have two, he doesnt need it, and he prefers It that way :

"Warren Rojas"

Karen gets something very posh like flowery or regal, as a British posh girl like :

Karen Marigold Sirko / Karen Euphemia Sirko / Karen Candance Sirko (then Candy Floss would make sense). Karen Marie Sirko Its the most possible. My prefered one Its the Candance one, to mod at Candy Floss.

"Karen Candance Sirko"

Lisa comes from Elizabeth, all the elizabeths i've known were Maries as second name so yup.

" Elizabeth Marie nee Crowne Rojas "

Rod comes from Roderick, which IS long enough. Roderick Reyes

Teddy can be from Edward or from Theodore so as i dont remember how It was in the book...XD

Theodore Edward Price

Bernie comes from Bernadette Mae Jackson (i'm giving her Simone's surname as they are married and I love them your honor)

Simone gets a cool one "Simone Dido Jackson"

Julia gets Julia Wilhelmina Dunne to honor her dad William/Billy. In some families It IS common to give the first kid the fathers name as the second name, instead of as the first one, which IS cool. New name + dad name Its better in my opinión, new identify plus tradition and everyone Its Happy. So Wilhelmina Its the female of William , can be shortened as Billie or Willow too, so Its cool!!

And last but not least : Margaret Jones as in the show, or Daisy as in the book. Logically It would be Margaret Marie Jones, but i'm not logical, It bores me soo...XD I Heard once Daisy Margaret (twice the same flower) too repetitive! , also Margaret Lily sound cool too! Daisy's Mom Its french, and her father was a painter...fancy painters name their kids more Margaret than Daisy, I liked that change in the show so...Also they get names like Isabella , Francesca or Florence (i've know like 5 British Girls named Iiked that with artistic parents XD) Florence would be too much like Florence Welch and Stevie too obvious from Stevie Nicks XD

Isabella, Lillian or Francesca works,I prefer Francesca, I already have a main character called Isabella (Twilight ) and also Lily Evans from Harry Potter, so as i want to write a ultra crazy crossover, those two can't be XD

So you have my 3 óptions Francesca Margaret Jones /Margaret Francesca Jones or Margaret Lillian Jones.

My fave one Its :

"Francesca Margaret Jones"

Looong but cool!!

Thanks !! ☺️👋

[porkchop200324]

Incorrect quote (DJATS):

Rod: Does anyone here actually have a good relationship with their dad?

Billy: Yes.

Rod: Billy, your dad-

Billy: Is right over there. *points to Teddy.*

Billy: I don't acknowledge Hank's existence anymore.

Billy: I'm giving Teddy adoption papers for Christmas.

Rod: I-

@mzannthropy @andreabaideas @jesstasticvoyage What do you think?

[phynoma]

Party Foul - Fully posted!! (Now with art!)

First ever cowriting experiment a RESOUNDING success. Get yourself an OTP of original characters and roleplay them. HIGHLY recommend.

Warning: may cause obsession, inability to relate one's excitement to peers, dry mouth, and did I mention obsession?

Including my (explicit, be fair warned) art in the reblog, and @milkteamoon can add their (not explicit, absolutely lovely) art as well if they so please

[onyxstorms]

♫"There ain't no words for the song I'm here to sing, No, there ain't no words to the song I came to sing, Oh, I just don't know the words, babe, to tell you what I mean. And I'm at the end of my mind trying to do the right thing."♫

Daisy Jones & The Six → Track 5 - Fire

[grandesainz]

My Evelyn Hugo idc

[jesstasticvoyage]

Teddy Price with Daisy Jones & The Six

[greatcometcas]

Teddy + His Glockenspiel in Track 6: Whatever Gets You Thru the Night

[agentsofniceentrances]

Daisy Jones & The six

Track 8: Looks Like We Made It