#the bassist started calling me their groupie after the first one and it was funny

[cloudshapedpatch]

unfortunately i've now slept with 2 out of 5 of my friend's band members and the other three think it's hilarious and keep calling me their groupie

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

A bad kept secret ( Dave Snake Sabo x reader)

A/N: Requested by this anon. Sorry for the wait, I hope you will like it !

Living with a band sounded so cool, right? Sure you got to visit plenty of cities, had fun to so many parties and if you were lucky, you got to meet some other famous musicians, but not everything was peaches and cream.

It was weird to admit but living with Skid Row was a job too, not only because you were Doc’s helper, but because first you were the band’s best friend. So you had to make sure that they basically survived, you took care of them when they were sick or drunk, you made sure they didn’t kill each other while they fought and all of that, so yeah it was very challenging.

But the most difficult thing was to pretend that you didn’t like Dave Sabo, or Snake as everybody called him. He was one of the most responsible out of the boys, and usually you two would be the “mom and the dad” of the band, taking care of the boys and listening to their problems, and many times you two relaxed together on the couch, watching a movie and enjoy the peace.

He was funny, sweet and kind, but also reserved and you never understood if he was into you or not, so you never had the guts to tell your true feelings to him. But you were also scared that a rejection could make things awkward between you and him the band, resulting in a weird tension between the band too, so you just decided to shove your feelings down and pretend to not have a crush on him or to be hurt every time a groupie was flirting with him.

You were at a party, sitting on a couch with a cocktail in your hand. You were talking to a random girl, probably some rocker’s girlfriend, you were not sure because there were so many people that you could get lost. She seemed nice though, and also she was kind enough to talk to you most of the night and stay at your side.

“I know what it is like to not know many people, darling. Don’t worry, give it a couple of months and you will have tons of friends!” She said with a smile, sipping from her drink.

You were nodding absently, not because you hated her but because your eyes for fixed on a certain guitarist who was talking to his childhood best friend. You were lost in his beautiful smile, wishing so bad that you could go to him and tell how he made you feel, how much you liked him. If only things weren’t complicated and you weren’t such a coward.

You decided to ask her to dance a bit, just to get distracted, when you felt someone tugging your dress lightly. Already rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to the usual creep who tried to flirt with you, but instead you met with Scotti’s worried face.

“Y/N, Rob doesn’t feel good. I don’t know what to do, you said to call you when things got bad. This seems quite bad isn’t it?” He slurred a bit, visibly drunk.

You moved your eyes and saw your favorite drummer holding is stomach in pain, his face getting a weird shade of green. This didn’t look good at all.

“C’mon, help me take him to the bathroom! Rob, can you hold up for a little longer, please?” You pleaded, but the boy didn’t seem too convinced about it.

Luckily the house was huge and had an empty bathroom, so that you could have your privacy. You three made it safely to your destination, even if Scotti was not very helpful, maybe a bit too buzzed to walk perfectly straight.  As soon as you closed the door, the poor drummer clung to the toilet, while empyting his stomach, you put his hair up, encouraging him to let it all out.

“It’s okay sweetheart, let it out. Did you take anything you shouldn’t have?” You asked like a mother-hen but Rob simply shook his head.

“I told him those mayo sandwiches were not good! He kept ate them like an idiot!” Scotti remarked bitterly.

Rob had a sad pout now, looking very offended, even if you were glad he was not puking anymore. But you didn’t want your drunk friend crying because your other drunk friend was being an asshole, so you hugged him close.

“Don’t mind Scotti, Rob, he is just a dick right now. You are not an idiot and sandwiches can be really tempting sometimes!” You comforted him with a smile, which made him grin too.

“ Now I get why Dave likes you. You are such a sweetheart!” The drummer said, resting his head on your shoulder.

Your brain stopped working, as well as your heart. Did he really say that David likes you? But what “likes” really mean? As a friend? Romantically? Fuck, you were so confused, happy and scared at the same time.

Scotti, who seemed to be lost in his drunk world until that moment, sobered up instantly, running towards Rob a putting a hand on his mouth.

“You’re a fucking idiot! We promised him to not tell Y/N anything!” He said in a desperate tone, still slurring.

Now you were so confused. Who was this “him”? Was it Dave? And why he didn’t want you to know he liked you?

“What are you talking about guys? What should you tell me?” You asked, but before they could answer the door swung open and two familiar boys got in, closing it soon after.

Sebastian and Rachel stumbled in the bathroom and you noticed the bassist had bloody knuckles, while Sebastian was heavily intoxicated. It was so exasperating how you couldn’t catch a break this night, especially when you needed to know things.

“Sebastian, take Rob here and make sure he doesn’t cry. I’ll take care of Rachel, but what the fuck happened to him?”

“It is always Sebastian’s fault. He picks up a fight and I have to punch people with him!” Rachel replied angrily.

“Well, then just don’t take part in it!” You said, while looking for a first aid kit in the cabinet.

“I can’t when they insult me too!”

You rolled your eyes and made him sit down, taking care of his bruised knuckles. Rob’s words were still floating in your mind, and you were unsure if just let it be, or trying to talk to the drummer about it.

“Hey man, why are you crying?” Sebastian questioned, holding Rob in an awkward hug.

“I spilled out Snake’s secret to Y/N”

“ Oh do you mean Snake having a crush on Y/N?” He covered his mouth immediately but both Rachel and Scotti groaned loudly.

“For fuck’s sake you two idiots!” Scotti cursed and you felt even more confused than before.

A part of you knew you couldn’t trust of four drunk idiots, this could be a joke or they simply thought he had a crush or any other thing, but also you hoped it was the truth and you could finally kiss that damn idiot you loved so bad.

You needed to talk to them and understand what was going on, before going nuts. However as soon as you started to speak the door opened again and this time Snake got in.

“Are you doing a secret party without inviting me?” He joked with a smile.

“Nah man, I had a fight and Rob was vomiting. I hear there will be strippers though, so we are getting out of here!” Rachel shot a look to Scotti, and literally dragged Sebastian out with him. The other guitarist led slowly Rob outside, even if he wanted to stay.

Dave laughed a bit, then he lighted up a cigarette. You couldn’t help but looking at him, feeling more and more anxious because you wanted answers so bad, but you were too afraid to ask so you just kept staring at him.

After a while he turned around and smirked at you, finishing his cigarette and getting closer. You felt your heart doing somersaults, so you tried your best to keep a straight face.

“Do you need something  Y/N?”

“ The guys told me that you liked me. I have no idea what that means and how they were drunk, but fuck I’d lie if I part of me doesn’t want that to be true because I-I have a crush on you Snake! And I’m so scared of telling you this because I don’t want to ruin our relationship or the band’s but I can’t keep it anymore. So it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, just please let’s not make things awkward between us.” You blurted out quickly, feeling your chest tightening and your cheeks turning red.

You were just so scared, you wanted to close your eyes and wait until it was over. However Dave gently stroked your cheek and made you look him into his eyes.

“They were right Y/N, I like you and very much too. I told them one time when you were not on tour with us, I was drunk and a mess so I confessed everything and they promised me to keep the secret. I was as scared as you, I didn’t want you to feel weird around us because I had a crush on you. But I looked at you every time and I wanted to kiss you so bad!”

You couldn’t help but smile, looking at him surprised. It sounded too good to be truth, but there he was Dave Sabo telling you he loved you back, staring at you with eyes full of love.

“Does this mean we are together now?” You asked, holding his hand.

He pulled your wrist, making you getting closer, then he kissed you on the lips. It was a slow sweet kiss and when you took separated, he was grinning widely.

“Did that answer your question, love?”

You kissed him again, just to get lost in his arms after.

Meanwhile the rest of Skid Row were trying their best to not make any noise as they kept listening to you and Dave talking in the bathroom.  

[baddly-well-done-translations]

Who is (and who was) who in Marilyn Manson | by Lala Toutonian (Madhouse magazine N°84, year 1997)

A very normal family

  Stop with the Reverend, for Satan’s sake! It’s the turn of the rest of the band, those relegated who maintain a lower (although not less controversial) profile. It’s difficult growing behind the shadow of such a character as Marilyn Manson, because of that is essential to maintain a spiritual strength and a fire-proof constancy. Here, an article (with the most solicited data) about the members and opus of the group which has most given to talk in this time.

Twiggy Ramirez: androginous (but sexual)

  The second place in the category which refers to a visual phenome, is undoubtedly for the androginous bassist. Twiggy Ramirez is only one step away from taking the name of Antichrist Superstar, as his mentor. 

  “I pretend trying to break that barrier between what’s femminine and masculine” says the one who insists with dresses; “I think I had my first erection the day I put on my mother’s undergarments. It’s a part of me which feels comforted with that, as so many other people. Obviously I’m not a hermaphrodite, although people believe so. There’s a very thin line between hetero, bi, and homosexual”.

  His thing is terminant. “We’re here to change today’s mainstream because it’s very mediocre. There was a time in which music wasn’t exciting anymore, there wasn’t a single one rockstar, it depressed me. I’m proud of being part of the mainstream now, somebody had to change it, turn it more exciting”. 

  He asegurates his thing was there since his mother’s womb. “She danced in a cage for the Kinks and Leslie West’s band”. His father could be the legendary guitarist West or Ray Davies from the Kinks: “I grew up surrounded by music. I lived with an aunt who was a groupie and very friend of the Ramones. I remember she hung up with one from the Bee Gees too”. If he hadn’t got success with music, he assegurates he’d be a prostitute. 

  And he continues with polemic themes: “I was raised without religion, I’ve never been cristian or satanist, I’m nothing”. He’s a rockstar: “Our music is so straight forward… There’s a group of idiots who simulate they don’t want to be rockstars, like if they felt pity for themselves. We’re the exception. The last time I talked with my mother, she told me little boxes with pubic hair were arriving at the house. I thought it was spectacular. Someone has to raise and care for those children. If their parents raise them, they’ll be just like us”. 

  Twiggy’s musical career started in primary school. He started playing violin because of a Star Wars film. In secondary school days, “Shout at the Devil” by Mötley Crüe and “Stay Hungry” by Twisted Sister were the albums which had most amazed him and the ones which ended up being decisive in his career. “Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show” was his first band: “A blend of country-wester disco with rockabilly bits”. 

  Ramirez met Manson in a Shopping Mall. “We had a band called ‘Mrs. Scabtree’ in which I dressed up as a black woman and sang. Then we started ‘Satan on Fire’, christian death metal group. I also sang and played guitar while Manson played the bass there. All these projects were while the creation of Marilyn Manson was taking place. He (Manson) played drums and bass, mostly so I could improve with guitar”. 

  Attracted by most dark metal genres “because of its message and rage”, Twiggy realized there was a lot of limitation, you couldn’t go further and the audience was minimal in this type of events. 

  He was invited to join the band after the recording of “Portrait of an American Family” and after two rehearsal weeks, they went on tour. “First album was recorded as a live band. In ‘Smells Like Children’ most of the material were covers. Scarcely in the song ‘Scabs, Guns and Peanut Butter’ I could give my own musical idea”. 

  Until that moment nothing could prevent the path the “Antichrist Superstar” would take, although the creepy version of “Sweet Dreams” deatheached a rotten smell. Ramirez assegurates that while in the “Smells..” tour, Marilyn and him had the same dreams, so they started composing together because it seemed that inspiration had the same start point in common: “In those days we talked about telepathy. We knew what the other was thinking and what we pretended for every song”. 

  The recording process of “Antichrist Superstar” ended up being pretty stressful for Twiggy since the moment in which Daisy was fired out of the band: “I don’t really know what was up with Daisy, but I was feeling alone, I wasn’t contributing in anything. I was lucky that there was Trent (Reznor)” Twiggy, with Marilyn Manson, plus Madonna Wayne Gacy’s contributions, were some of the pillars that helped “Antichrist Superstar” being the success it is.

God’s chosen one

  The last thing the group’s members needed after the recording of Antichrist Superstar was having to search for a replacement for Berkowitz. But in the face of Daisy’s inability to get into the Manson family, they had to search for a six string player. This was in May 96’, and after a year they crashed into Zim Zum. While dozens of musicians paraded around Treznor’s house, the trio Manson-Ramirez-Gacy was acting as a judge while watching auditioning aspirants. 

  Although his name doesn’t derivate from a sex simbol and a murderer, the nickname has a particularity worthy of emphatize: the idea was taken from Hebrew. Zim Zum was the angel God had chosen to do the dirty work at the start of times; the same function was given to him by Mr. Manson while including him in the band. There are other dark sides in his ambivalent personality too: Tzimtzum refears, in cabbalistic terms, to the place God left for giving place to humanity. Also his name could be attributed to the serial assassin from the 60’s, called Raymond Zum. 

  From Illinois, Chicago, he worked for a long time in a guitar factory (In fact, three guitars of his are self-made). Apart of LSD (Life, Sex and Death), he had never participated in a band before. He debuted recording the live version of “Irresponsible Hate Anthem”.

A simple guy: Olivia Newton Bundy

  Brian Tutunick is an original member of the Spooky Kids, after the initial project of Marilyn Manson, he continued his career in Collapsing Lungs and now he plays in Nation of Fear: “Nation of Fear started in 1995 after the dissolution of Collapsing Lungs. This project really was in my plans before that Marilyn Manson thing, as something more industrial. But some members of the bands preferred hip-hop. Then I met DJ Grinch, who was a Collapsing fan, and we started Nation together”.  He assegures his thing is industrial, goth, alternative and a bit of rap and hardcore, everything blended with computers. 

  How was his history in Marilyn Manson? “Perry (Zsa Zsa Speck) and I were working on the Collapsing thing, and we were very friends. We had never made music before, but we wrote a lot of poetry. He started hanging out with Scott (Daisy Berkowitz) and recorded something like six tracks. That way they started Spooky Kids and I was asked if I wanted to be part of the project.  I joined them, although I always pretended returning to Collapsing. Everyone gave ideas about performance and the visual part, but Manson already knew what direction we had to take. Between 1989 and 1990 we had only five shows. Madonna was bizarre. When we quit off the band because we wanted to keep up with Collapsing, we told him to take charge of the samplers. He was an encyclopedia of bizarre acts”, tells Olivia. 

“I basically left the band because Manson and I have our own messages, someones in common, others not (...) I’m not on the musician's side. I hate musicians. I’m with entertainment, because of that I have more in common with a stripper than with Billy Joel”, concludes Wayne Gacy like if he wanted to make clear his mental lucidity. 

  Olivia practically doesn’t see the members of Marilyn Manson anymore, unless they met in a club or pub in the city. “Marilyn Manson is a shock rock band. They’re what they’re because they’re very controversial. There’s a thing I find particularly funny: religious groups which attentate in it’s shows. I consider that threatening a stadium full of kids with a bomb is a lot worse than a simple guy who’s trying to play his music”.  Simple? Guy?...

Leafing the Daisy

  When Daisy Berkowitz said goodbye to his peers in the middle of Antichrist Superstar’s production, fans were left totally shocked. After desperate searches by the press hand, he finally appeared, only to present Three Ton Gates, his new aggrupation. Now he’s heading towards the trial Manson initiated because of his composition’s rights. 

  “I wasn’t fired. I felt like I didn’t have credit for what I was doing and certainly not the opportunity of doing my music, while that was all I did between the first album and Smells Like Children. Manson didn’t accept any of the compositions I had for Antichrist Superstar. He only wanted ‘Wormboy’ and I felt deceived. He didn’t respect me. He changes opinions every five minutes, I’m not exaggerating. He was always searching for a sonorous personality and I contributed a lot in that field. When you write, you cannot simply transmit what you have in your head. He isn’t a musician, so he doesn’t understand that. He never appreciated my effort in creating a big sound unity”. 

  He assures Manson wanted to work with Twiggy and not with him, because the bassist took charge of the guitars after Daisy’s departure. “When I noticed I had only participated in a third part of the album, I decided to go away. They didn’t even include lots of guitars! They literally didn’t let me enter the studio, I only entered two times per week to do the basics with guitars. I played in five tracks: ‘Warmboy’, ‘Tourniquet’, ‘Mr. Superstar’ and ‘Antichrist Superstar’. Then they told me ‘Now you can leave’ and they hadn’t even ended the album. I realized I had to leave...“ laments Daisy. 

  He criticises the Reverend saying he had never had a band before and he doesn’t know what professionalism is. He doesn’t hang out with any of the band members now: “Nobody has even invited me to a show”. What does not being “Daisy Berkowitz” anymore feel like? “A bit better”, he tries to convince us. 

  The ones who want to contact the ex-Daisy, can do it at http://www.spookykids.com/threetongate (It’s a magazine from the ‘97, I hardly believe the page even exists now)

[zwiezraczek]

The Perks of Being Roger's Girl... [Chapter 1]

SUMMARY: Anna is Brian’s friend, his childhood best friend. They were separated for a long time, but when Smile performs at the Royal Albert Hall, Anna is here, invited by Brian. There, she meets Roger, the dentist drummer, a loverboy.

CHAPTER 1: Begining  - CHAPTER 2

WORDS: 6.4k

Anna walked into the concert hall. It was hot in there, she could almost feel herself sweat as she entered the place. She thanked herself for wearing only a long coat above her red dotted white shirt and her brown fabric bell-bottoms. She touched nervously her afro, before going towards the bar to have a beer. It was exciting to see Brian, her friend, playing on stage. It was something she missed a lot. She heard that he was playing in a band, she even went to some of his early concerts. But, sadly, her studies disabled her from coming to see her friend, she only wrote letters to him while being in Cambridge as a broke student for several years. But now, she was back home, to work and study – that she could now afford, not being too busy at University. She could even afford a small flat, nothing too cozy, but nothing in too bad shape; after all she wasn't paying much.

When she heard some agitation near the stage, after her first beer, she looked in that direction. The band was there, Smile. She immediately recognized Brian's luxurious hair, she missed her long-lost hair twin during the years they were apart. She was extremely happy to see him embracing his natural hair, because she remembered the times when he used to straighten it. Real massacre.

Anna rose from her seat at the bar to go see them clearer. She tried to catch Brian's gaze while he was adjusting his guitar, the Red Special as he used to call her. She waved at him, he saw her – who wouldn't recognize this afro in a crowd? – and shyly waved back before the beginning of the show.

Introductions were made. She swore that Brian spoke about four members, not three; but somehow, during that night at the Royal Albert Hall, only three of them were here, on stage. Tim, the lead vocalist and bassist, Roger the blond drummer and Brian, her friend, no Chris. Something must have happened, but for now it wasn't important.

They began to play. People around her seemed to know their music by heart, sharing their energy with the band which was exciting and beautiful. On her side, she was mesmerized by their performance. They were in such symbiosis that everything around her – cigarettes scents, alcohol, the crowd – seemed to fade away. Brian was absolutely amazing, she definitely knew it before but this performance brought it on another level – she had to admit that the last time she saw Brian perform was a few years ago. The other members of the band were mesmerizing too, Tim seemed so passionate about his singing, and so concentrated while playing bass and on the other hand, Roger looked so carefree, so wild while playing the drums. Everything looked so perfect, everything was enchanting.

When the magic ended she could go backstage to join Brian and the band. She had to make her way through the crowd towards the stage and to almost fight with the guards around the scene while explaining to them that she was invited by one of the members of the band, no she wasn't a groupie, no fuck off. Finally, Brian had to come and tell the guards that it was okay for her, that she was indeed his friend and she was invited backstage. Anna felt relieved, she had a haughty expression while getting there before it faded when she was alone with Brian, almost alone. She was so happy to see her old friend that she hugged him, a little more than usual. He was still taller than her, something that she always found irritating because she was used to be the tallest around. This was how they began their friendship, height and hair. He was doing well, he was still studying astrophysics, still playing music, and still full of talent. She always admired how versatile he was, it was one of his biggest qualities. Anna on the other hand was just studying English literature, nothing big, but she was good at it. She used to write with Brian when they were in high school, he had such a way with words. Anna only added some touches when he was writing, telling him what sounded better in her opinion, and he listened to what she had to say; they could discuss about the text for hours. Good old days.

Brian showed her around, leading her to the band's small space backstage. The question about not being four burned her lips and finally the fire started, Brian put an end to it by explaining why Chris had to leave them – argument, Chris Smith was out now, ugly argument really. Brian didn't give names, but something told her that Roger, this troublesome friend of his, the dentist, was the cause. She referred to Roger like that in their letters, which amused Brian a lot. When he pushed the curtain a bit, Anna and Brian came across the room dedicated to the band. Everything was blurry from smoke, heat, groupies. A lot of groupies on the couch, three groupies, for a small space three too much. She first met Tim, sitting on one of the chairs while discussing with a man with a peculiar face, but peculiar in a good way, it was something about his teeth... Tim shook her hand with a smile on his face, bringing her back to reality. She told him that she really enjoyed the show they put on tonight and he thanked her, he seemed genuinely relieved that she enjoyed the show. And then, Anna saw this blond head with this little smile, looking at the girls gathered around him on the couch, both hands spread on the headrest. The dentist. Yes, she now remembered that Brian told her about his “attractiveness”, which on the one hand brought them fans but on the other was a pain in the ass, Brian's words. But Roger seemed to enjoy the mess he made around him, if we believed the smile displayed on his pretty face. A loverboy. He smirked when he saw Anna. A dentist loverboy. Great. She wasn't sure if it was their coming or their hair that caught the drummer's attention when they entered the small space. Brian sat in front of Roger, on an armrest while Anna made herself comfortable in the same chair.

“Hey, Rog, this is Anna. You remember, my friend, the one I invited tonight,” Brian precised while pointing at Anna who waved shyly. Brian quickly looked at the three girls gathered around Roger, all having a good laugh with the drummer.

“How could I forget mate,” Roger replied, Anna and Brian had his full attention now. It was quite spectacular to see two persons with such hair in the same room, near each other. “I'm Roger Taylor, nice to meet you Anna”, he said looking at her. “Damn, you two look like twins, even the look and stuff. Brian, you didn't tell me you had a beautiful sister!”

“Rog, please”, Brian seemed to have enough of all of this, he only sighed and looked at Anna with an apologetic smile. She wasn't upset, she liked the idea of them looking alike, it always was fun to be taken for siblings. Especially with Brian. Hilarious situations came to her mind at that moment. Like the time they tried to convince a man while entering a bar that Brian was Anna's twin, the guy was slightly drunk but he saw most of the trick, but let them in anyway. Good time.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” she replied, with a kind expression which reassured Brian. “Great show, great drum work and all,” she wasn't really a specialist, she knew it, but she found the performance really interesting, and her compliments were absolutely genuine. Even if they were not totally important, at the end, who was she to judge their performance? A mere mortal.

“Oh you know, these hands can do wonders”, he answered with a cocky smile making the girls around him burst into laughter and cuddling up a bit more against him. Anna just looked up at Brian, a little confused, a little amused. Brian wasn't surprised at all.

“As you can see, I didn't lie to you when describing Roger in my letters to you,” Brian said with a little smile on his face, just to tease the blond. Anna absolutely knew that little smile of his. Classic Brian.

“Described me? What letters?”, Roger asked, loosening the cuddling position he was in. A wave of incomprehension crossed his face, he seemed to be processing every information he heard, slowly, without understanding everything, what Anna found quite funny.

“Oh, the dentist things, he only described the dentist things”, Anna playfully answered, then casting a knowing look at Brian. “Only dentist things, right?”

“Brian, for the love of God I won't become a dentist,” one could hear determination in Roger's voice. He became petty, pretty petty, and this blond hair was only enhancing his childish look which made him look so innocent, even if, from what Anna could read and see, he wasn't at all.

“If you say so, Rog.”

Roger processed the information, he had the whole process of thinking on his face, his eyes slightly shut, his mouth open a little and a gaze into nowhere. Anna didn't really know how to react to that... Absence. Brian elbowed her, as if everything was alright, and then started to ask how Cambridge was. They had so much to catch up, she had so much to tell him, she had so much to hear. Everybody in the room had their occupation, beer in hand, Anna having a great time speaking with Brian about the crazy stuff she did while in Cambridge while laughing, cross-legged in the chair, Brian laughing wile leaning closer to her to hear what she actually said to him because of Roger's girls laughing at his jokes. It was getting later and later, darker and darker outside and Anna had to go back home, into her small flat. Something she didn't enjoy much, she was having a great time there, with Brian, just like in the good old days. But everything had to come to an end. Sadly. Brian offered to walk her home, just in case and she gladly accepted that offer. Brian took his guitar, excused himself for not helping with the instruments tonight but he had to walk her home, safety first. Roger smiled, a knowing smile.

“Roger, she is my friend.”

“Yeah, for sure mate,” he winked at her, while hugging on of the girls more against him.

“Have a very, very pleasant night,” Anna commented while smiling at him. He pissed her off a bit, but nothing to serious, it was all in fun.

“You too girl, tell me if Brian was nice enough then,” he commented and Anna's attempt to reply was covered by one of the girl's laugh. Great.

And while Anna a Brian left the room, Roger was still thinking about Anna.

~~~~

Seeing Anna around during their gigs was something absolutely normal by now. She came back to London four months ago, and for the past two months she was going to see them perform as much as she could. In London, at home, everything was easier.

She finally became a huge fan of the group, it was inevitable with Brian's texts. He had some talent, no doubts. She was very fond of Doin' Alright, she always enjoyed when it was played during gigs. Something soothing the atmosphere, dulling the rumble of the crowd, making everything blurry when she was sitting legs crossed at the bar, a beer in hand and watching the stage from afar. And obviously then, she went backstage with them. There, she met Freddie, Tim's friend, the one she saw the first time she came, a talented art student. Shy and exceptional. He had extra teeth, something that made Roger laugh at first, but when he heard Freddie's singing voice, he, and his falsettos, got their jaws dropped. Anna herself was amazed. His performances, she guessed, will be bomb.

Tonight, Roger came in long after Anna – Anna was usually the last one to come into the band's space, knowing how much they needed a bit of rest after a gig – something that became normal, usual with the bringing girls ban Brian and Tim established especially for Roger. So now, Roger came in late. Everybody knew why, nobody wanted to hear it. But Freddie was always teasing him about it. When he showed up with a sheepish smile, some lipstick on his neck and a napkin with numbers on it, Freddie couldn't resist the urge to comment.

“Darling, you're always playing the perverted part after gigs,” and Roger just rose his shoulders, innocently, a dazzled look, a flirtatious smirk for Anna and a reply.

“You know, somebody has to play that part, I don't really see Brian playing it, nor Tim,” he explained, it sounded as a self-sacrifice for the greater good of the band. So dramatic. So Roger.

“Sure Rog, I could definitely not be as perverted as you are,” Brian replied and the looked at Anna, smiling. He once told her a Roger's adventure, when two girls showed up after their gig, claiming they were his girlfriends. He had an immense pleasure watching Roger hiding in closets while the girls were chasing him. Anna made a funny face, and could only nod in order to not burst into laughter while thinking about it.

“What “sure Rog”, mate? And you, what was that nod for, huh?” Roger looked at both of them, suspicious, straightening himself on the couch, scrutinizing them and their chemistry.

“Nothing Roger,” she replied amused, “nothing in particular. I mean, Brian could never be as good as you are at this kind of games.”

“You're on tight rope, Anna,” he warned her with dark yet smiling eyes, pointing right at her. He wanted to know why he was the butt of the joke, right now.

“Literature students are always on tight rope, Roger, I'm used to it. Plus, when you have Brian's hair because you're half black, being on tight rope is your destiny,” her answer was full of sarcasm, but full of truth too. She had difficult times with her hair, really difficult ones. But now, with her hair pal, everything seemed lighter, more joyful.

“Be careful Roger, she's taller than you,” Brian warned him changing the subject.

“And? What does that change exactly, mate?”

“She's taller, that's the joke,” Tim insisted encouraged by Freddie's laugh.

“Fuck you”, Roger replied, arms crossed on his chest, looking from time to time to see if Anna was looking at him. And she was. This dentist was a funny guy after all.~

~~~~

Smile was dead. God save the Queen.

Smile had to fade to let Queen rise. This was how Brian explained Anna that Tim wasn't playing with them now, they separated after a few more gigs together, but remained friends. Funnily enough, the one replacing Tim was Freddie. The Freddie that Roger first called a “dental freak” to what Freddie replied that a drummer dentist shouldn't give any opinion on his teeth, especially when he couldn't sing properly. Roger was red, and Brian and Anna were only laughing, covering their mouths while doing it. But then, they became friends, even when Freddie called him a perverted little brat. Even then, Roger could only be more bitchy than ever and cock-fight with Freddie about who had more sass. Anna secretly loved these small challenges.

As Tim left the band, they needed a bassist. Freddie wasn't really suited for the bass, and God knew they tried to make him play – it was a disaster that Anna never wanted to forget, seeing Brian's absolutely jaded expression while Roger was screaming at Freddie for not playing it alright, a priceless moment – but this never really worked, and they needed a bassist. Quickly. And there he came, John Richard Deacon, born on August 19th 1951. He was studying electric engineering, nothing too fancy, he looked like a shy person who had nothing to do on stage – Roger's words when he came in, according to Brian – but he shortly proved that they absolutely needed him in the band while softly playing the bass, with such passion, yet stiffly but they could work on that. And when Anna saw the whole band for the first time, during one of their rehearsals, as Mary, Freddie's friend was sitting next to her on the couch, she immediately saw, and said to Mary, that these guys were going to go places. Mary agreed. Both of them thrilled by the aura the group made.

Anna was already in bed, her hair in a a blue turban, thick socks on and under a huge blanket when somebody knocked at her door. She wondered who could bother her at that hour. First, she thought that something happened to her parents, so she rushed towards the door, but instead of gloom and doom she found Freddie, mist coming from his rosy lips as he smiled when he finally saw her open the door. It was cold outside, and Anna asked herself how Freddie was not freezing his ass out there.

“Freddie,” she yawned. Then, she rubbed her shoulder in order to heat herself up a bit. “Come inside, it's so damn cold outside. I'll make some tea and you'll explain to me what's happening to you.”

“Oh, nobody's dead, darling,” he playfully said while sitting on one of the chairs around the small round wooden table. “Not yet.”

If this sentences was meant to reassure her in any way, it failed its purpose. Truly. Anna turned around to face Freddie, the water was boiling behind her, two cups with jasmine tea were ready to be used. Her expression was perplexed, she was still sleepy, and didn't get the joke nor any other information.

“Nobody's going to die, darling, I swear,” Freddie said after a small chuckle as he looked at this sleepy-head. “I just need another genius to help me with a song, nothing more, darling,” he finally told her as he put a small notebook on the table. It once was a small notebook, but now it was composed of hundred different papers flying around and some brown pages. All Freddie's works. Every one of them better than the previous one. And Anna was supposed to... Help him? She heard the boiling water and poured it into the cups before serving them on the table. She sat in front of Freddie, thoughtful.

“I don't know how I could help you,” she admitted and drank a sip from her cup after the water became brown, “ I mean, Brian is a better specialist than...”

“Darling,” he interrupted her abruptly, “here lays the whole the fun. Brian won't know anything about it because we will rewrite Keep Yourself Alive together before Queen's first performance! Isn't that fantastic?” he frantically asked her, absolutely thrilled about the idea of creating something new out of this song.

Anna wasn't sure about what was going on. She wanted to help Freddie, so badly, but at the same time Brian should know about the changes before their first concert which was in a few days... But everything was so exciting, adrenaline ran through her veins at the thought of being part off a secret project like that. And Anna liked surprises, she liked to surprise Brian a lot, he always made funny faces when something unusual happened around him, and she secretly enjoyed these funny faces and these moments when he lost his composure, just for a second.

“Show me these lyrics, Freddie,” she said and drank some of the tea from her cup, “we'll work this out and this will be the best song ever I swear!”

“Your enthusiasm is so divine, I love it Anna!”

They both smiled before beginning to look at the pieces of paper. And so was the song, divine.

Anna and Mary were in the crowd in the small bar Queen performed in, standing along strangers, standing close to one another, waiting for them to begin their performance. She then felt a presence, some guy tried to touch her hair in the back, drunk as hell, she absolutely told him to fuck off while Mary just put her arm around Anna's shoulders to keep her closer and to – somehow – avoid another unwanted contact. When Anna rose her eyes on the stage, she saw Roger's expression. It was a true mixture of rage, incomprehension and anxiety. She could ready each one of these emotions from where she was. She was curious to know why he had such expressions imprinted on his pretty face, why he had to experience these feelings all together. Suddenly, Freddie's voice broke the hubbub in the room after Brian's introductions and some cheers for Roger, who wasn't clearly paying attention to whoever shouted his name in the crowd.

“Hello beautiful people,” Freddie cheered the audience as a voice rose asking where Tim was and who this “Paki” was.

Anna and Mary looked back at the man and almost killed him with their eyes; but as soon as they turned back to face the stage, they saw Freddie struggling with the microphone during the beginning of the song. Nearly hitting John, nearly killing John on his first performance, with the microphone. Yet, he still managed to catch audience's attention while singing so perfectly the song they all knew, or thought they knew. As soon as the lyrics began to change, Freddie winked at Anna and the grin on his face grew.

Brian's expression went funny. Anna could kill – metaphorically speaking – to see this expression on Brian's face; she could almost hear him saying “Wrong lyric, Fred” while continuing to play on his guitar, which was absolutely hilarious when you were aware of the little trick Freddie had prepared.

The band's meeting just after this gig was the best one Anna assisted to so far. When Mary and her entered the space, Freddie almost ran to hug Anna tight. She hugged him almost as tight as he did.

“Thank you darling, thank you for helping me,” he exclaimed after breaking the hug a while after and fondly looking at Mary then. “Anna's the other genius who wrote this song.”

“The other what?!” Anna could hear irritation in Roger's voice. She wasn't sure what it was about. Was it about what happened just before they came on stage, when his expression was a monstrous medley of emotions or because of the change of the lyrics?

“Anna you didn't,” Brian interrupted while looking at Anna, somehow disappointed, or just maybe weary.

“We worked all night long,” she admitted as she sat on the armrest of the couch, playing nervously with her afro, “and the result isn't as bad as I thought it could actually be.”

“I feel betrayed,” Brian said, looking like a sad puppy at Anna who just sent him a kiss across the room. “No kiss will heal the betray of a friend, Anna.”

“Soothe the pain maybe then?”

“I can go for a kiss as an apologize,” Roger said while looking at Anna from across the room with a playful smile on his face. “I'm all for negotiations.” She blew him a kiss, jokingly and then began to laugh. Roger's face became paler than usual, he went silent for a long moment, maybe for a too long moment.

“You got Roger but not me,” Brian continued, and Roger internally thanked him for his intervention at that particular moment, when he felt maybe too much, when he remembered how pissed Anna looked when that guy touched her hair while he was on stage, not able to tell him to fuck off and when he remembered that she blew him a kiss, jokingly. Softly. He got shivers down his spine, body relaxed, his mind being somewhere else for a long moment as he lost himself into her blue eyes.

~~~~

As Queen was rising, Anna became a regular in their rehearsing room along with Mary. The two girls were always sitting somewhere in the room, doing their things as the boys were playing music. Anna found it absolutely calming, even when they were trying to rip their heads off – when Roger tried to rip Freddie's head off mostly – because the music they made right after was divine. Especially when The Night Comes Down was performed next to them, the two girls caught themselves moving their heads in rhythm with Roger's drums while listening to the song. One of Brian's masterpieces, and Anna, as an English major, went crazy when she heard it for the first time. She had already read the lyrics and found them particularly beautiful, but hearing these in Freddie's mouth was another experience, an experience worth living for. She immediately stopped writing whatever she was writing and endlessly looked at them playing, Freddie sitting on the chair next to the piano and Brian carelessly touching the strings of his guitar while John was in the back, playing softly, stiffly. And Roger, Roger never seemed so calm and focused. Anna remarked how glowy his porcelain face was when he was playing, making kissy faces unknowingly as he played. His hair was smoothly moving along with his sharp and precise movements, and sometimes, she managed to catch his eye. His glistening eyes looking at her, and for a second, his confused face became a smiling one: he winked. She chuckled, shaking her head still in rhythm.

On other days, while Mary and Freddie were speaking, Brian in the small kitchen space drinking another tea and Roger somewhere, over the rainbow probably, John and Anna found themselves in the room, each of them sitting on a chair, in perfect silence. Anna would lie if she told that she found this silence awkward, it was, indeed, a great silence. Mostly, John was scribbling something on a notepad, Freddie gave it to him a few months after he joined the band, as a gift and John felt really happy about it, genuinely happy, and Anna would sit an try to write an essay about another lecture she had or about another poet's feature. The would look up, lock their eyes, smile and finally, go back to their activity. It was strangely relieving. John wasn't talkative, and Anna usually neither and somehow this kind of relationship brought them close. It became a ritual, nobody – except Roger, – would disturb them.

“What are you doing,” Roger finally asked, after making so much noise that Anna could hear John sigh while writing something, so she rose her eyes and smiled. He smiled to. Roger smiled too and came nearer. She hoped that he wouldn't ask questions, vain hopes.

“Magic as you can see,” she sarcastically answered as Roger was peeking over her shoulder, “trying to cast a spell to maybe become rich and famous someday and to have a good grade. But the grade part is optional actually,” she admitted while looking up. She saw his beautiful eyes looking down at her, nearly veiled by his fringe. He had a halo made of light-bub light above his head.

“Want some help?” he offered.

“You're a dentist, Roger.”

“Fuck off Anna,” he replied visibly annoyed. But this comment didn't prevent him from sitting next to her in the couch. “I may be a dentist, but that doesn't mean I don't know shit about literature and whatever you're doing here.”

“Oh really? Wow, Mr. Taylor will help me with my essay,” she teased him as he looked at her. “Okay, let's see what you've got then. See?” she asked while pointing at the line she was actually studying, “I need to find the exact definition of the term, so I'll be able to...”

They spent an hour and a half trying to understand what exactly the author meant in this poem, what could be useful to comment upon this Nightingale. Roger was smart, smarter than Anna thought and she was ashamed to admit it. He frowned when he couldn't get the point of the author, trying to analyze the structure of the line as well as he could, while Anna was analyzing the stress pattern of the line, iambic pentameter, fade away... They didn't even notice when Freddie's voice could be heard from the other side of the room, complaining about Roger being “so involved” that Brian had to seriously talk to him, for his own sanity. And maybe John's.

“Rog, Freddie will rip your head off if you don't get up and come banging your drums,” he said, as both Roger and Anna looked up at him, in great confusion. “You're late Roger, and you're lucky that I'm the one coming and not Freddie.”

“I heard that darling,” Freddie commented.

“Shit, sorry!” Roger said, understanding finally what was going around him. The bubble burst, and the moment he was sharing with Anna was over. “I was helping Anna with this analysis and then...”

“Freddie, I'm absolutely sorry,” Anna said looking at Freddie across the room, “it won't happen again! I won't steal your drummer any longer I promise!”

“He wasn't bothering you?” Brian asked, a bit off and confused as he got a nasty look from Roger.

“Hey, I'm not the botherer here, mate!” Roger commented, with or without innuendo.

“He was actually quite helpful, Brian! Who knew something was under this blond wig!” she joked.

“First of all, fuck you Anna and second of all, don't you give me that look Brian I can be helpful!”

“If you say so, Rog,” Brian commented , a smile on his lips after Anna's comment.

“Yes darlings, be all lovey dovey while John and I are dying out here because we can't rehearse,” Freddie remarked, striking a dramatic pose that made Mary chuckle as John just rose his shoulder, having his bass hanging on one side.

“I'm ready Freddie, let's do your thing,” Roger said while getting up, before turning again to look at Anna. “Mr. Taylor was pleased to help you, Mrs. Anna,” he winked at her, with a teasing smile. Anna could hear Brian sigh and catch a glimpse of his deary expression. The poor guy had to deal with this group – Freddie and Roger – all day long, courageous man. “So, we're playing what now?”

“Liar,” Freddie answered, his look full of surprises, Mary standing next to him.

“Very funny Fred,” Roger remarked as he reached his drum set and sat, waiting for them to begin.

 John and Anna were sitting in silence, each one of them trying to focus on their work, on anything while the band took a small break. Strangely, Roger was nowhere to be seen, no shouting, no talking, no peeking, nothing. When both of them heard light footsteps next to them, they rose their heads to find Roger: Anna gave John a knowing look as the man just nodded before heading back into his work. Russian roulette: who Roger wanted to bother today? Anna already felt that her essay's conclusion was to be forgotten, not done here, not today actually but how wrong she was. Roger sat on the couch where she was, on the opposite side with a pen and a small notebook. He curled one leg up on the couch, as he put the notebook on his lap and began to think, deeply think as he frowned. He then began to scribble on his paper. John and her exchanged a curious look, as Roger sat silently and began to tap his fingers on the hard cover of the notebook. Curiosity killed the cat. Anna approached his side of the couch, leaving the conclusion of her essay, and began to peek over his shoulder, as he always did either to John or her.

“What are you doing here, Roger,” she playfully asked, as he always did when he came in the room to bother John or her.

“Magic,” he sarcastically replied mocking her as her eyes opened a bit wider in confusion, “trying to cast a spell in order to have a great song, the great part is actually optional.” She chuckled as she remembered saying the exact same thing to him the other day.

“I guess you could use some English major help then,” she offered as Roger always did.

“You're implying that I can't write all by myself?”

“I'm implying that you came here because you wanted either John's”, she began to say before noticing that John was already on the other side of the room, speaking with Freddie, “or my help. But it seems that I'll be the only one offering help here,” she suggested. “What's the title of the song?”

“Modern Times Rock'n Roll,” he proudly answered looking at her.

“Very evocative of... Rock'n roll?” She had a little smile on her face as she wasn't really sure what to say about the song.

“You're so perceptive it hurts Anna, I'm impressed,” he admitted nodding slowly.

“Show me that thing, I want to see the lyrics Mr.Taylor!”

He put the notebook on her lap and she looked at the lyrics with great attention. It wasn't Brian's fondness and delicateness put on page, but something more... Effective? She knew absolutely nothing about rock compared to Roger who was following every trend, many bands, reading, writing about it... And these lyrics weren't made to sound only “pretty” – these actually weren't what Anna could call “pretty” but “accurate” and “well chosen” for this subject – but to state something: the changes in the rock world. So, it didn't require a lot of metaphors, no love interest, no Kings nor Queens, but only words, raw words arguing about the new rock facing the old one. And Anna would lie if she didn't admit that it was pretty interesting to see lyrics under this perspective. She laid her eyes on him, on this porcelain face framed by blond strands of hair and asked if he could sing it. Bloody yes, was his only answer. He looked as excited as a child on Christmas Eve. He closed his eyes for a moment, began to tap his fingers on the couch they were sitting on and sang. So he did. His raw and raspy voice was everything the lyrics needed. Anna could not imagine Freddie singing this song, not with as much passion as Roger did with his own song, with the knowledge, the wisdom. Freddie was amazing, but this was Roger's turn to show off – besides his falsettos that they once discovered when the man saw a spider and began to cry his lungs out, a marvelous moment as Freddie recalls. Anna's mind was dazzled, impressed.

“So?” he finally asked, looking at her a bit longer than he should, making her realize that she went silent for a moment.

“So?”

Nothing to say?”

“You want compliments or real judgment?” she said joining her hands around her knee and leaning back.

“Do I look like somebody craving for compliments?”

“Kind of,” she joked as he frowned before she continued. “It was really good, I'm pretty impressed,” Roger's ego was puffing in front of Anna as a mating pigeon.“But”, she continued as his enthusiasm faded immediately away, “I have a problem with this line, let me show you...” She looked at the paper, searching with her finger for the line that didn't sound good to her ear, not as good as the rest of the song. “Here! And my musical's life lookin' // Like a long Sunday School cruise, the idea is good but... It doesn't sound well actually... It lacks something...”

“Lacks something?” he asked, astonished by her remarks as she began to bit her thumb while thinking about something better. The verb “lookin'” was really bothering her, there was an alliteration in “l” which should be nice, but as a matter of fact it gave a heavy tone to the line...

“It seems a bit off, you know what I mean?”, he frowned even more, but now in incomprehension. She remained silent for a while, thinking about what could replace this verb to make it more airy, a sunny afternoon, a light afternoon... “What about changing lookin' into feelin'?”

“This was the only thing bugging you, like really?” his voice was almost full of reproach, but more full of relief. He thought that his song was absolutely off, lacking something more essential, but here, she was just going into details. Which was good. Actually really good.

“Shut up Roger!” she said as she straightened on the couch and pointed at the lyrics. “The alliteration in “f” will be more effective here, it will give a lighter effect than the one in “l” which is basically heavier... Try with feelin' then.”

“You became a musicologist or what?” he joked as she elbowed him with a small chuckle.

“Poetic studies specialist would be more accurate,” she corrected him, “I want to hear it, try it please!”

Her excitement was remarkable. Roger sang the lines as she requested, and it felt lighter, gave some air into the structure of the song. But this wasn't Anna's only remark, the real work only began here. They finally sat there, for a few hours, figuring out ways to make the text as light in sounds to contrast with the heaviness of the thoughts. At one point, their shoulders brushed against each other. They were so close to each other, invading the other's personal space a lot, Anna putting sometimes her hand on Roger's shoulder while he was singing again to give birth to the text again. When she leaned closer, her hair tickled his nose making him sneeze and Anna could only laugh. Roger joining the fun right after. Sometimes one could see some blushing faces when both of them realized how close they were.

[deans-baby-momma]

Rebel Without A Cause-Ch 3

A/N: This is a day late because I was so busy at work yesterday I let it slip my mind. But, hey now you don’t have to wait so long. LOL Next update will be Friday as previously scheduled. For now enjoy……and don’t forget to leave feedback. :)

“Shopping!” Jo announces, answering Maggie’s question of how she was going to be transformed into a rock music groupie. “New clothes, new make-up, whole new hairstyle,” she continued, counting off things on her fingers. “Give me 3 days and I’ll have you looking the part!”

“I-I don’t know,” the shy girl stammers. "I've…”

“Margaret,” Jo interrupts, placing a hand on her new friend’s shoulder. “You gotta just have faith.”

“Please call me Maggie,” she tells her coworker. “Margaret is such an old woman’s name.”

“Well Maggie, then we need to get you to quit dressing like a Margaret and start dressing more like a Maggie. ‘Tis a cool name though. I like it.” Jo says with a smile.

“You really think you can make me look like I belong in the crowd at a rock concert?”

“Sure I do!” Jo exclaims. “Let me ask you this, how against dying your hair are you?”

In the end, Jo convinces her to meet up at the mall first thing the next morning, a Saturday. “The earlier the better, since the families who usually crowd the mall will still be at home”, Jo declares. Maggie is still hesitant about the change of hair color but agrees to at least get a trim. Her rust-colored hair falls halfway down her back when she loosens the clip holding it up. 

'Wow! You’ve got to tell me your secret. Other than some dead ends, your hair is beautiful!“

"Good morning!” Jo chirps as she passes a styrofoam cup toward Maggie the next morning. She had been standing just outside the entrance to the mall when Maggie walked up. “Ready to be revamped?”

Maggie smiles at the blonde as she takes a sip of the steaming liquid. The coffee is sweet nectar to Maggie since she hadn’t had a chance to brew any herself in the rush to meet Jo at the appointed time. Somehow, Jo had known that and had provided exactly what she needed. Maggie wondered if this was a sign that the woman in front of her would actually be able to help her get what she needed; a behind the scenes look into the nuances of the Winchester Sex Bombs.

After work the evening before, Maggie had spent hours scouring the web and all articles related to the band. The group was made up of five childhood friends, two of them brothers. The lead singer, Dean, was the older brother to the bass player, Sam; the keyboardist (Seriously? A keyboardist in a rock band?) Meg Novak was married to the guitarist Clarence, or Cas as most know him as; the loner was Benny, the drummer. He was an unattached drifter that probably saw quite a lot  from his view on stage; Maggie speculated if that could be an angle she could use for her piece? She wanted to keep a low profile with the band, not wanting to draw the lead singer’s attention at all.

The five of them hailed from a small town in Kansas, Lawrence. They all went to high school together, forming the band in the senior year of four of them. Sam was a few years younger than the others, the baby of the group. He had joined when the original bassist had moved away to go to college. Maggie briefly wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The band he left behind was finally making a name for themselves, traveling the continental US to play in a different city every couple of days, but was also leaving behind carnage and unflattering reports in their wake.

After finishing off their beverages, Jo and Maggie head into the mall. 

“Okay, first things first. The outfit!” Jo announces as she claps her hand together. “New shirts, new pants, shoes….oh, you definitely need boots, at least. The higher the better!”

“Jo, I can’t walk in heels,” Maggie informs. “I’ll break my ankle and neck. Aren’t I supposed to be able to dance and….mosh?”

“Look at you!” Jo chuckles, putting an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “You’re already learning the lingo. But no, these boots have flat to minuscule heels. I meant they have to at least be knee-high and zip up. Easier to get off when you want to get busy, ya know”

Maggie couldn’t help but blush. The only kind of 'getting busy’ she was doing was typing up her story at the end of this assignment. The last thing on her mind was getting laid…but after some thought, it had been a while. It’s been six months since her ex-boyfriend Luke left her for Sabrina and probably twice that long since she and he had been intimate. 'Has it really been almost a year since I’ve had sex?’ Maggie ponders as they head for the Shoe Plaza. 

“Here. Go try these on,” Jo demands, shoving a pair of jeans in Maggie’s direction. “And I wanna see, so come out here and model for me.”

In the dressing room, Maggie removes her slacks and holds up the garment Jo had given her. The material is a dark blue with a few places looking worn, the fabric frayed. The left knee has a patched hole on it. As she studies them, she realizes she is going to have to practically pour herself into them. She glances at the tag, thinking Jo had picked up the wrong size but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

Pulling the material over her hips, Maggie is astonished at how comfortable the jeans were. They aren’t as hard to button as she assumed either. Turning left then right, she eyes herself in the mirror. Maggie hadn’t worn anything this form-fitting in years, if ever. The fabric hugs her curves perfectly. Taking a breath, she opens the door and steps out.

“Oh my god!” Jo exclaims. “I was right. Look at you! Look at that ass! Those jeans make it pop,” she announces, making sure to snap her lips on the 'p’ “I swear if I wasn’t confident in my sexuality, I’d turn lesbian for you. Girl, you are hot!”

After leaving J.C. Penney’s with a few pairs of jeans, the two women head to what Jo calls the 'ideal rockstar outlet’, Hot Topic. Maggie balks at the site of the store. The lights inside are dimmed, making the place look ominous. There are floor-to-ceiling displays of numerous different styles of band t-shirts and apparel. In the back, there is a glass counter with glowing jewelry and ornaments. The place is empty as they enter, Maggie looking back and forth taking it all in. Some of the outfits she wouldn’t be caught dead in! Like the leather full bodysuit with zippered pockets throughout or leggings that were so thin, they were practically see-through. “Do people actually wear this stuff?” she whispers to Jo. A chuckle from behind causes both of them to turn to see a younger woman standing there.  She has the goth look down. Thick black winged eyeliner, a nose piercing, and her hair is jet black and lays in waves down over her shoulders. “Nah, those are mostly for aesthetic. Although, those-” she says pointing toward the transparent leggings, “-they really work if you’re trying to turn your man on. They come crotchless too,’ she continues with a wink.

"Oh my god! Why would anyone…”

“Easy access”, both Jo and the girl, Francesca by her nametag, declare with a laugh.  

“How can I help you two today?” Francesca asks.

“My friend here is going to her first rock concert next week. She needs to look the part,” Jo explains with a nudge to Maggie’s side. 

“Oooo, which band?”

“Um, Win-Winchester Sex Bombs,” Maggie stutters out.

“Ah, yes. They’re coming to the River, aren’t they? Music’s pretty good but I don’t think that’s what’s making them such a hot commodity. It’s that lead singer, Dean. He and his dreamy green eyes. And those thighs! Damn, the things I could do on those.” Francesca proclaims, Jo nodding her agreement. “Could you imagine the power of his thrusts!”

Maggie blushes at the girl’s lack of a filter. She and Jo keep talking about their fantasies if they were ever to get a night with the man as Maggie steps away, not wanting to have those images in her head as she interviewed the band. As she perused the array of clothing she picks out a couple of shirts with sayings on them that were funny and one with a picture of her parent’s favorite group, The Beatles.

Jo eventually joins her, with an armful of clothes. “Here, this is what you’re wearing with those jeans and the gray suede boots.”

Hanging on a hanger is an ivory-colored lace top with sheer fabric underneath. Maggie knows that the top would definitely show her underclothes and shakes her head. She couldn’t wear that! No way. 

@pink1031​ @spnbaby-67​ @winecatsandpizza​ @joseyrw​ @kricketc28​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​

[cultofbeatles]

hello reece i am the teach me led zep pls anon yes hi hello hehe idk what i wanna know mabye like ur fave song from each album and basic facts about each member ??? dont be afraid to ramble btw im taking all the info i can get !!!1!1!!! thank u sm ily 🥺

annie i have three words for you... i got you. i already told you this, but i am working on a “beginners guide to led zeppelin.” i planned on it being more giggles mainly, but i'm going back and adding a decent amount of information just for you

fun facts about led zeppelin and the beatles: led zeppelin were the band that beat the beatles record held for most attendance at a concert (55,000 people). on may 5, 1973 (and with no opening act) led zeppelin beat that record by having an attendance of 56,800 people. also! for the beatles movie ‘a hard days night’ jimmy page did the instrumental version of this boy that plays while ringo is wandering around. pretty rad. oh, and george harrison went to a led zeppelin party once and was thrown into a pool by john bonham. 

i gotta say this before i begin though, led zeppelin is one of those bands where hardly anything gets confirmed or denied. at least nothing “controversial” or anything more than basic gets an answer to it. so sometimes you gotta take things with a grain of salt, and you gotta just have the mindset of “well this might not be true so I'm not gonna claim it as so.” with that being said i'll start with getting you into led zeppelin. 

through the span of their short career led zeppelin had eight studio albums. 

led zeppelin (january 1969)

led zeppelin ll (october 1969)

led zeppelin lll (october 1970)

led zeppelin lV (november 1971) this album technically doesn't have a name but we all call it ‘led zeppelin lV since it was the fourth album

houses of the holy (march 1973)

physical graffiti (February 1975)

presence (march 1976)

in through the out door (august 1979) 

they also have a few live albums and compilation albums as well. but when people talk about led zeppelin albums they're mainly referring to these ones. i like all of their albums. i think they're all good. my personal favorites are the second and fourth albums. i do think that led zeppelins music isn't for everyone though. they're not as clean as some other bands are. I will list my favorite songs from each album. 

led zeppelin: good times bad times, dazed and confused, babe i'm gonna leave you, communication breakdown, how many more times, i can't quit you baby 

led zeppelin ll: whole lotta love, the lemon song, thank you, heartbreaker, moby dick, ramble on

led zeppelin ll: immigrant song, since i've been loving you, tangerine, that’s the way 

led zeppelin lV: black dog, rock and roll, stairway to heaven, misty mountain hop, going to california, when the levee breaks, the battle of evermore

houses of the holy: the song remains the same, the rain song, over the hills and far away, the ocean, no quarter, dancing days

physical graffiti: the rover, houses of the holy, kashmir, ten years gone, trampled under foot

presence: for your life, achilles last stand 

in through the out door: fool in the rain, all my love 

i think all of these are good starter songs for someone just now getting into led zeppelin. i hope you like them! they have one movie, the song remains the same, and it’s weird but also good. it’s basically concert footage of their madison square garden show but there’s also cuts of little skits they made? idk how to describe it lol.

in my beginners guide post i'll write more about the members and go into more details and funny facts about them. right now i'll just briefly introduce you to them. to talk about led zeppelin you have to start with the yardbirds. jimmy page (zeppelin’s guitarist) was in the yardbirds until they broke up in 1968 and then jimmy started looking for his “super group.” him and Peter grant (zeppelin’s manager) started looking for the best of the best people. in 1968 led zeppelin was formed. 

jimmy page is known as one of the best guitar players in rock history. he’s usually always in the top three listings. he was a session guitarist for a while and would fill in on people’s records. on Joe cocker’s version of ‘with a little help from my friends’ jimmy is playing the guitar on it. and he joined the yardbirds with eric clapton and jeff beck who are also listed as the best guitarists. he was a soft spoken, quiet dude. he seemed very shy and introverted. but then you read groupie stories about how he had whips, handcuffs, and razors. he was also given a lot of shit for studying crowley’s work, and was known for his “witchcraft ways.” he struggled with addiction (heroin and cocaine) and pulled himself through in the end. but he was, and still is, an amazing guitar player. he also produced all of zeppelin’s albums. so he’s an amazing producer as well. he got a lot of unnecessary hate and criticism back in the day (still does). and you can thank jimmy for all the newish led zeppelin stuff we get bc that’s all on him more than likely. 

john paul jones is known as one of the best bassists in rock history. he was not only zeppelin’s bassist but also keyboardist. and he can play recorder as well. like jimmy, he was also a session musician. jimmy and jones knew of each other  and when jones heard about jimmy putting a group together he called him. he was more of the serious member in a way. jimmy, bonham, and robert were more wild and would cause chaos. john paul jones would deadass book a room at another hotel and not tell anyone where he was. he just wasn't into that kind of thing. so I don't think he was really all that close to the other members. he felt left out a lot. him and john bonham were an amazing rhythm section. the best in history. they knew exactly what to do to stay in sync. he was also the one to find john bonham when he died. so that’s sad. 

robert plant is known as one of the best vocalists in rock history. his voice is *chef kiss.* i love him. he wasn't jimmy’s first pick in a singer. in fact, jimmy’s first pick was the one who recommended robert to jimmy and also said that he looked like “a greek god.” robert plant is just about the most attractive man ever. jimmy liked roberts voice a lot but doubted his songwriting skills so was weary of him at first. robert had never written songs until joining led zeppelin. robert was the reason john bonham joined the group. him and bonham were best friends before the group even formed and remained that way until bonham’s death. robert also went through a lot of shit during led zeppelin’s timeline and honestly i'm so proud of him for getting through all of it. right now robert likes to act like he was never in led zeppelin though lmao. 

john bonham is known as one of the best drummers in rock history. i’m not even kidding. his power behind the drums is mind-blowing. when he was approached by jimmy about the band he denied the offer. and continued to deny the offer bc he had a family to take care of, and didn't know how well this band would be. but it was robert plant who convinced him to join so they could play together. he loved his family very much (a wife and son who name is jason). he hated being away from them. he was known as the sweetest man ever unless he was drunk. the problem was that he was always drunk. he had a drinking problem. he did a lot of stupid shit when drunk. he died in 1980 after he had the equivalent of 40 shots of vodka and threw up in his sleep causing himself to choke. after he died, led zeppelin died as well. 

after john’s death the band called it quits. they all like to say it’s because no other drummer would be able to compare to bonham. robert says that he loved john bonham too much and couldn't force himself to go out there and do a show without him as the drummer. robert plant is likely the reason we’ll never get another zeppelin reunion show. there were three reunion shows in the past. the first reunion was their live aid show which fucking sucks. john paul jones wasn't even informed about the event and ended up on keyboard instead of bass, jimmy was likely on drugs bc of how out of it he was, robert’s voice is awful, and the drummers hardly knew the material. it was a rushed show but it was for charity and i'm sure they made a lot of money. the last show being the celebration day reunion in 2007 where jason bonham (john’s son) played the drums. it’s a really really good show and i cry every time i watch it. you can watch the whole thing on youtube. still to this day it’s evident that jimmy, Jason, and jones would love to do a reunion show again. 

led zeppelin is one of the few groups that can say all of their members were just about the best at what they did. each member will always be in the top ten rankings for lists of the best artists/musicians. that’s really impressive. they were really, really good together. I hope this was a good starter post! 

[angrylizardjacket]

act your age: [3] Fight For Me

Chapter Summary: Ash goes to see Queen’s all-ages gig, makes a friend with ‘that year ten who sung about his balls’, and makes an enemy.

Word Count: 2943 | [act your age masterpost]

the heathers: @brian-may-brian-may @marvelismylifffe @whoschantel​ @cosmicsskies @somefanfic-to-love @happy-at-home @peteyparkersbabyy

“They’re putting on a musical at my school.” Ash tells Oscar over dinner on Saturday night, and Oscar snorts where he’s chopping up tomatoes.

“You’re the lead, I assume,” it’s dripping with sarcasm, and Ash isn’t even close to offended, laughing at the very idea as she washes lettuce in the sink.

“Of course, that’s me, I’m Heather.” She snickered, but Oscar paused, and when she looks over her shoulder at him, he’s wide-eyed.

“They’re putting on Heathers?” 

Ash nods, a little confused.

“Like a Junior version, or -?” He trails off, but Ash just shrugs helplessly. Oscar hums thoughtfully before going back to the task at hand. “That feels inappropriate.”

“You’re telling me, one of the Year Tens sung about his balls, it was funny as shit, but like… felt super weird too.” Shaking the excess water from the lettuce, she quickly placed the leaves in front of her brother as he scooped the chopped tomatoes into the salad bowl. She hesitated by his side for a moment before adding, “Roger’s probably gonna be in it.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me.” Ash snapped, turning a little pink around the ears, "I was only at callbacks because of him and John.” She shoved her brother in the side before moving to go collect cheese from the fridge; Oscar has been strangely quiet as he shreds the lettuce and adds it to their salad. “What?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he’s holding back laughter, she can hear it in his voice, “the fact that you went to callbacks for a musical, that John and Roger might be in said musical, or that the musical is fucking Heathers.”

“John’s not in the musical, he was just at callbacks, like me, for Roger i think,” Ash muses for a moment. The conversation moves away from the musical and the siblings have dinner in peace,before Ash hurries off upstairs to get ready for the night. It’s the first all ages gig Queen has played since she’d first seen them, and she was excited to be able to watch the band without having to worry about being thrown out for her fake ID.

“Boy, you’re going with her, right?” Ash can hear from her room when their father gets home, when he asks about the kids’ plans for the night, and Ash can almost hear Oscar’s eyeroll.

“Obviously.”

He’s not; he’d made it very clear that he’d rather jump into a volcano than spend a night surrounded by highschoolers. Not even the chance to see Brian could lure him in. But he was Ash’s ride, and he was studying at a friend’s house and said he would pick her up whenever she needed him. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he’d do pretty much anything to enable her crush on Roger, a crush which Oscar found both hilarious and adorable.

Ash still doesn’t know a lot of people from school; she’s friends with Roger mostly because her brother is in love with their shared tutor, at least that’s what she tells herself, and Oscar keeps dragging her along to see their band perform. She’s content talking to her friends back in Scotland via snapchat and messenger, and throwing herself into her art. Which is probably why the first person she recognises at the bar is that girl from the callbacks, the one Ash had barged in on on Thursday with the killer voice… What was her name again? It started with G.

The girl introduces herself as Giselle, and her handshake is firm and unwavering, as is the confident stare she fixes Ash with. She’s dressed in a floral dress and denim jacket with her hair pulled back, and looks far too classy to be both fifteen, and in what happens to be a buffet style restaurant. But the night’s young, and the moment one of Giselle’s friends finds her, Ash, once more, feels out of place.

The band is warming up when Ash settles herself on one of the sofas at the edge of the crowd. John waves to her, Freddie and Brian both throw her a smile, though they do look for Oscar in the crowd and seem disappointed when they don’t find him, and Roger doesn’t seem to see her, though that’s to be expected, he keeps forgetting to wear his contacts to gigs and usually flies blind.

What comes as a surprise is when a somewhat familiar figure drops themselves onto the sofa beside her.

“You’re Ash, right?” It’s the guy from the callbacks who had sung about his balls. Ash has to take a moment.

“Yeah, why?” 

“Oh, I just thought I recognised you from the callbacks.” He holds out a hand. “Joe.” Ash shakes it warily.

“I didn’t sing.”

“But you’re very distinctive.” Joe counters, and his grin is bright. Ash snorts, that’s the first time she’s been called distinctive and had it sound like a compliment.

“You were fun in the auditions,” Ash says carefully, and Joe at least has the decency to flush an amusing shade of scarlet, though his smile is still wide.

“Well hopefully fun gets me a role.” Crossing his fingers, he slouches a little lower into the sofa. Joe’s easy to talk to, actually seems as out of place as Ash feels, and it’s kind of nice to be able to enjoy a gig with someone who wasn’t her brother. Ash’s own sense of humour is rather dry, but it seems to make Joe laugh, and he seems to enjoy the band, for which Ash is quietly glad, she’s become rather protective of them, not that she’d ever admit it.

“You’re friends with that Roger dude, right?” Joe asks, and Ash hums, tipping her head to the side as she looks up at the band, “that’s how you know these guys, isn’t it?”

“Actually, my brother’s in love with the guitarist,” Ash corrects quickly, without really meaning to, and Joe barks out a laugh. It’s something she jokes about with Roger and John, but it’s not something she usually casually mentions to anyone else.

“I get that; look at his hair, he’s a majestic man,” Joe hums in agreement for a moment, before turning and grinning at Ash, who let herself relax, just a little, and smile back.

“But yeah, I’ve got art and physics with Roger,” Ash muses, and Joe nods thoughtfully. It’s at this moment that the opening chords and beats of ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ starts playing, and Ash’s entire expression scrunches up with amusement, much to Joe’s confusion.

“It’s the car song,” is all the explanation Ash gives, and Joe’s expression lights up.

“Is this the one you yelled at him about in the call backs?”

“You remember that?”

“He wrote a car song, of course I remember it.”

“He wrote it right after he got his Ls,” Ash’s lips quirked into an amused, but surprisingly fond smile, “at least that’s what I’ve been told; Freddie refuses to sing it.” 

Actually listening to the song, Joe manages to go through an entire face journey, turning to Ash as it, along  with the first set, comes to an end.

“It’s just a bit... weird,” he murmurs, and Ash can’t help but laugh at that, loud and amused, and it’s enough to draw Freddie over to her. Ash gets to her feet to hug him, letting him spin her around.

“Ashley, my favourite groupie, you are my only solace in a night full of teenagers,” Freddie sighed dramatically, finally putting Ash down, giving Joe an amused smile, “no offence, of course.” 

“When you sing that well, you can get away with saying whatever you want I guess; I’m Joe.” He stands, grinning and holding out his hand. Freddie takes it without hesitation, and Ash gives the singer a fond yet exasperated smile.

“Oh, I like you,” Freddie nods very seriously, shaking Joe’s hand. After a beat, he turns back to Ash.

“Where is dear Oscar?”

“He’s allergic to high schoolers who aren’t me, John, or Rog,” Ash answers back, and Freddie sighs.

“Awful, but understandable,” and with that he’s swanning away to make conversation with whoever Brian had found. 

Roger’s the next over, though Ash isn’t surprised by that. He shakes Joe’s hand first, a little out of breath from both singing and drumming, but he thanks the other guy for coming before he makes a point to lean on Ash.

“You didn’t even realise I was here until Freddie came over, did you?” Ash asks, smirking and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Of course I knew,” Roger huffs, his nose in the air, “Deaky pointed you out after the first song.”

“Because you asked about me?”

“Because you’re somehow still one of the only people in our school who he knows the name of,” Roger countered, though he was a little pink around the ears. After a beat, he turns his attention to Joe, but doesn’t move from Ash’s side, in fact, she’s got an arm slung around his waist to help him keep balance. “You having a good night?” 

“Great night, actually,” Joe answers honestly, “you guys are talented as shit, how old is the kid on bass?” 

“Fifteen; he goes to our school actually,” Roger preens a little, proud of John; he spots the kid in question milling about, drinking a glass of water near the stage area and calls him over. “Deaky, this is-” he frowns a little, at a loss for Joe’s name. Joe, however, fills in smoothly, shaking the bassist’s hand, complimenting him brightly. John grins, quietly pleased.

“I gotta go make the rounds, say my hellos,” Roger muses, looking to Ash, her expression is quietly adoring and amused when she looks back, “you sticking around for the rest of the sets?”

“Of course; Oz said he’s studying at a mate’s house which means they’re doing anything but studying, I wouldn’t want to interrupt too early.” She grins, an expression Roger matches easily.

“Watch it, don’t let Brian hear you saying that,” he responded, which makes Ash laugh, though he leaves not long after with a faint ‘catch you round’. Joe and John have been making good conversation, much to Ash’s surprise; Joe’s the first person to really compliment the way John dances while he plays, and they’re getting on like a house on fire. 

The second set goes even better than the first, and Ash lets herself get dragged onto the dance floor. It’s abundantly clear within ten seconds that she can’t dance to a beat to save her life, but the other kids around her aren’t seemingly paying attention, apart from Joe, who somehow managed to dance in time with her, making her feel just that little more comfortable. As the second set is winding down, Ash makes her way through the now-closing restaurant section to the bathroom.

Things take a turn, however, as she passes a few guys she thinks she recognises from her year, sitting around one of the tables in the mostly empty restaurant.

“Is this why he’s not playing footy? To drum in some pussy-ass band with those fuckin’ grandpas?” One scoffs, and Ash has a sinking sensation in her stomach as she comes to a stop.

“Did you hear him sing?” Another laughed, giving a screech as an imitation, “who’s cat got run over?” 

“Just because you don’t like the music, doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole;” Ash hears herself saying, gaining the attention of all three of them, “if you’re not having a good time, go home.”

“Who are you?” One scoffed, though all three of their faces read clear derision.

“I don’t think I remember asking your opinion,” the third sneered, but she doesn’t back down, “fuck, are you one of their little fangirls?”

“I never got why half the girls froth over him so much, he looks like a barbie,” the first muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re talking about Roger, right?” Ash asked, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she held her ground.

“Piss off,” the second rolled his eyes at her, “go slobber over him and leave us out of it.”

“I’m his friend,” though at that the three jocks snickered and rolled their eyes.

“Whatever,” the third smirked, “I’ve got more talent in my left nut than he’ll ever have in his life.” 

That’s just a blatant lie, and Ash feels anger bubble up in her, white hot and filling her all the way to the tips of her fingers. She usually tries very hard to curb her more aggressive impulses, but there’s a stack of plastic serving trays beside her, and she picks one up, surging forwards with a scarily calm expression, and smacks the third dude in the face hard enough that his chair topples backwards. He lands safely on the plush carpet, but the first dude, the tallest of the three stands abruptly, hitting Ash in the face out of sheer instinct now that she was in range. A few of the other students have caught the altercation, and now the band’s being drowned out by the quickly growing chant of ‘fight fight fight’.

“Fuck off! Psycho bitch!” The second shoves her backwards hard enough to fall on her ass, and Ash seems too stunned to stop it, both from being hit, and hitting someone to begin with. A few people are trying to help her to her feet while also shoving her back at them, a security guard is shouting, but then there’s someone hauling her quickly through the crowd. 

The band is still playing. Seeing how quickly Joe is moving Ash back to the sofas, all four of them are wearing looks of concern, still not quite sure what happened.

“I’m so fucking dumb,” Ash is shaking, curling in on herself despite how her nose bleeding onto her jeans.

“What happened?” Joe asks, voice quiet, barely audible above what Ash recognises as the final song of the set, “Ash, those guys are on the footy team, what the hell happened?”

“I gotta call Oz.” Her hands fumble for the phone in her jacket pocket, and she’s up, heading for the exit in a blur before Joe can stop her. She’s crying quietly when she calls her brother, and he’s immediately rushing out the door to come pick her up. She waits, sitting on the curb, hand holding her nose, if only to catch the steady, gentle drip of it.

Before Oscar arrives, someone sits beside her.

“You going?” It’s Roger, he sounds... confused.

“Yeah.” Ash still holds her nose; she can’t see Roger’s concerned frown.

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. It was stupid. I was stupid.” And finally she raises her face to meet his gaze. Roger’s eyes widen as he sees the way the blood from her nose drips from her hand onto her jeans with this change of angle. 

“Holy shit.” Gingerly, he takes her hand away from her nose, sees the bruise blooming over her cheek and nose. After a beat, he smiles, actually looks a little starry-eyed. “You got into a fight? That’s bad ass!”

“Oz is gonna kill me,” Ash says sheepishly, but she’s smiling. He’s still holding her hand, though neither seems inclined to let go, “and it wasn’t really a fight, it was like, maybe three hits.”

“Did you hit someone?” He asks, seemingly delighted. Ash flushes, her nose bleeding a little harder, but her smile widens at his enthusiasm. She nods. “At my fucking gig, that’s nuts, Ash.” He scoots closer, tucking her arm into his as they wait for her brother.

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” she says, speaking to his mention of nuts, though he doesn’t realise, and just acts confused. Ash, unwilling to admit that she’d actually gotten into a fight because of him, is grateful when Oscar pulls up a few moments later, screeching to a halt a few metres away. Roger’s smiling, and gives Oscar a wave as the taller of the siblings steps out.

“Hey biscuit, what’s wrong?” Oscar asks, though he goes pale as a ghost when she turns to face him and he takes in the damage. “Jesus H Christ on a bike.” 

“What’s the H stand for?” Roger asks blithely, which makes Ash laugh. She gives his hand a squeeze. “She’s alright, just a little bruised.”

“Yes, I can see that Roger,” Oscar’s tone is unusually clipped as he offers Ash a hand, but once Ash is standing, he sighs. “Thank you for keeping her company.”

“She’s our favourite groupie,” Roger shrugs easily, and Ash has to turn to hide her smile. Roger heads back inside as Ash and Oscar get into Oscar’s beat up, shitbox of a car.

“What happened, are you okay?” His voice is so soft as he turns the key in the ignition. Once the car is on, Ash is still quiet, and Oscar leans over her to open the glove compartment, and pass her a travel pack of tissues. Ash’s hands are shaking again.

“I was being dumb, okay? I just got... protective and shit.” It was difficult for her to explain, but Oscar nodded like he knew exactly what she meant.

“Do you wanna get a thickshake?” He asks quietly. Ash’s voice is barely audible when she agrees. They drive to McDonalds in silence, and in the line at the drive through, Ash plugs her phone into the aux cord. They both get chocolate thickshakes and listen to pop music, and when they get home, their father calls out asking how the show was. He doesn’t come out of his office. Ash and Oscar lie through their teeth.

[malekshardy]

groupie love – hardy!roger taylor x reader

summary: queen has just finished performing at madison square garden, and you and your best friend have decided to sneak into their afterparty, where you make the acquaintance of one roger taylor. you’ve gotten to know plenty of rockstars before – so why does this one feel different?

a/n: hey everyone! after being obsessed with borhap like everyone else for the last couple months i finally caved and made a sideblog/wrote this and decided to post it. so this is my first official roger taylor fic! the title is groupie love by lana del rey just bc i think it fits well and i listened to it a ton while writing this lol. let me know what you think!

word count: 2,164

part two

New York City: February 5, 1977

The living room of the apartment is already in disarray from excited, drunk partygoers, although no one actually knows if the band is here yet or not. You lean against the wall, holding a strong mixture of mystery alcohol and some kind of fruit juice in your hand. You can’t help but feel excited – sneaking backstage and into afterparties always gave you such a rush of adrenaline – but nothing could compare to your excitement tonight. You’re still buzzing from Queen’s performance at Madison Square Garden, and from the success of one of your most daring stunts yet: sneaking into the private, record-label-organized afterparty of one of the most popular bands in the world, already slightly drunk, with your very drunk roommate Betty. You’re still in the process of patting yourself on the back when the crowd begins to cheer; Queen has officially arrived.

Betty giggles. “This is so fun, Y/N!”

You resist the urge to look over at the band and nod. “It’s exciting.”

“And you do this all the time?!”

“Well, not all the time.” You say, smirking. “Just when people I like are here.”

“So when do we get to say hi to the band?” Betty asks distractedly, taking a sip of her drink and glancing around the room.

“We have to wait until we get someone’s attention.”

Betty’s gaze lingers on the band for a moment, then she whips back around to face you and snorts into her drink. “I guess we don’t have to wait very long, then. Roger Taylor is staring at you.”

You look over your head and sure enough, Roger Taylor is staring at you, with a playful smirk on his face. A hint of a smile graces your face as you make eye contact with him, then you settle your gaze back on Betty, finishing off your drink. “C’mon, let’s go to the bar.”

***

Roger doesn’t quite know what’s hit him as he walks into the room, fresh off the stage of Madison Square Garden. The crowd had been electric, and despite having a few minutes between the show and the party, his heart is still beating out of his chest.

“Good show, Roger,” a girl giggles as she flits past him. He watches her go for a minute before turning back to say something to Freddie. But before he gets the opportunity – his eye catches on a girl across the room from him, holding a drink and talking animatedly with another girl.

“What was that, Rog?” Freddie asks, but Roger doesn’t reply. Sighing, Freddie follows his friend’s gaze, groaning when he spots you.

“Who’s that, Fred?”

Freddie smiles, just a little, at the awestruck look on Roger’s face. “I have simply no idea who she is or how she got here, dear. But her friend’s looking so you’d better change your expression. Wouldn’t want you to lose that darling playboy image you’ve worked so hard maintain.”

“Oh, piss off,” Roger mutters, but he follows his friend’s advice just in time to make eye contact with the girl. A smile ghosts over her face before she looks back at her friend, finishing her drink. Hardly thinking straight, Roger takes a step towards the bar.

“Where’s he going now?” Brian asks Freddie from behind him. “I thought Reid wanted to talk to us before everything gets too crazy.”

Freddie must make some snarky comment about him, because Roger can hear Brian laughing behind his back, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get them back later.

***

You’re ordering your fourth drink of the night with Betty beside you, reveling in how everything has become light and soft around the edges, when suddenly Betty’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, what? You’ve already talked to the bassist – which is the one thing you wanted to do tonight, might I remind you – what else could you possibly be freaking out about?”

Betty looks down at her glass as you hear a soft chuckle come from behind you. “So you have a thing for Deaky, then?”

You freeze, knowing immediately who the voice belongs to, then turn around. “Not me,” you say, smiling softly. “That’s my friend, Betty.”

“And your name is…?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Roger,” he says. “But you probably already knew that.”

“Cocky,” you smirk. “But you’re right, I did.”

“You were at the show tonight then, I assume?”

“We were!” Betty exclaims, her voice a sudden reminder that you and Roger are not the only people in the room.

“You know,” Roger starts. “I’m sure Deaky would love to continue your conversation from earlier? He’s not usually a huge fan of these sorts of scenarios. I mean –” he coughs. “If that’s okay with you, Y/N.”

Betty laughs. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

You turn back to face her and wink. “I’ll be okay. Go have fun!”

With Betty gone off in search of her beloved bassist, Roger slides closer to you, his hand falling over yours. You smile, excitement growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Now, if this was a real bar, I’d offer to buy you a drink and then take you somewhere more private,” he grins.

“Well, unfortunately for me, I already have a rather full drink,” you say.

“So I suppose all I can do is take you somewhere more private.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Your heart is pounding in your chest and internally you curse yourself. You were what many would call a groupie, you had done this exact routine nearly a hundred times – so why did you feel so nervous?

Roger’s grin widens, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, steering you towards the door to the terrace. It’s freezing outside, but Roger keeps his arm around you, his thumb brushing against your hip, and you can barely feel the frigid New York air.

“So, my first question is… how did you get into this party?” He bites his lip, smiling widely.

You shrug, trying not to focus on the way his shirt is completely unbuttoned or how he’s looking at you with his lip between his teeth. You feel almost like a sixteen-year-old girl again, the way you’re blushing, the butterflies in your stomach. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol. You’ve been with your fair share of men – your fair share of rockstars, even – and yet you’re painfully aware of how close Roger is to you, the way his fingers dance on your skin, occasionally slipping just under the hem of your shirt. You’ve been with your fair share of rockstars, yes, but none of them have had this kind of hold over you.

He chuckles, reminding you that you haven’t answered his question yet. “Oh. I guess it’s how most other girls get into these kinds of parties,” you answer as innocently as you can. “Your crew is easily persuaded.” You shift your body ever so slightly, so that Roger’s whole hand can rest more comfortably on your hip.

“That’s not true,” he laughs. “My crew is easily persuaded by pretty girls. That’s a very important distinction.”

You smile, taking the last sip of your drink. “That’s probably more accurate.” You stand there for a moment longer before you start to shiver.

He pauses in the middle of his sentence. “Sorry – are you cold?”

You can’t help but burst into laughter. Your last drink has fully hit you now and suddenly everything is funny – especially the idea that you might possibly be cold while standing outside in New York in February, wearing only a short sleeved shirt and a skirt with sheer tights underneath.

“Yeah, just a little bit. I’m also,” you pause for dramatic effect. “In need of another drink.” You stumble a bit when you take your weight off the railing, but Roger’s grip on your waist tightens and you find yourself toppling into his chest.

“Maybe you don’t need another drink,” he chuckles.

“You’re also drunk,” you chide, laughing. “You were slurring your words a lil’ bit back there too, I noticed. Plus, I’m okay. I’m fun drunk.”

“You’re something, that’s for sure,” he says, and your heart stops for a minute when you catch his eye. He looks… soft. Who would have guessed it. Roger Taylor, notorious womanizer, soft? You stare at him for a second longer as he leads you to one of the couches in the corner of the room, stumbling a little as he walks. You have half a mind to bring this up and make fun of him for being just as drunk as you are, but you’re distracted by the eager look on his face as he sits down on the couch.

“So I feel like I haven’t really gotten to know you.” His hand rests on your knee and your heart hammers in your chest – come on, Y/N, what’s gotten into you?! – and blushing, you lift your gaze to meet his.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, turning your body towards him. His hand trails ever so lightly up your thigh to your waist and your whole body feels as if it’s on fire. Once again you’re aware that you’re close enough to Roger to feel his heart pounding. He’s mere centimeters from you, and without thinking you bite down on your bottom lip again. He laughs – not really a laugh, more of an exhale – and before you can fully look up at him his mouth is on yours.

To say that he leaned into you would be an overstatement. A more accurate way to put it would be that he fell into you. It’s a lazy kind of kiss, a sweet one; not what you had come to expect from his reputation. It only lasts a second, and that’s another surprising thing, but when he pulls away he only looks at you for half a heartbeat and then he’s kissing you again. He pulls you closer to him, one of his hands gripping your waist as your hands tangle in his hair. You must tug on his hair in the midst of all this because he opens his mouth ever so slightly to moan, the vibrations rippling through your body. You laugh, and he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. This kiss – this is what you had expected from Roger Taylor. It’s all passion. You can feel his hand burning into your waist, and excitement bubbles up in your chest. You had made fun of Betty earlier for making her dreams come true, talking to her bassist – and now here you were, on the couch in a crowded living room, making out with Roger Taylor.

After what feels like hours, he pulls away, breathing hard. His pupils are blown wide, hair a tangled mess, and you realize with a shock that you’re now sitting on his lap. With a dazed smile on his face, Roger slides out from under you and stands. “I’ll be right back – I’m going to get a drink.”

You sit there in blissful satisfaction for a moment, watching him make his way towards the bar, when someone sits down next to you.

“Y/N!” She hisses. It’s Betty, jolting you out of your dreamy, post-makeout haze. “It’s almost four in the morning and I have to be at work at nine!”

You giggle. “You sound sober.”

“I feel sober! We have to go home!” She hops back up, grabbing your arm and tugging at you.

“I can’t leave,” you say seriously.

“Yes you can,” Betty replies. “I’m making the executive decision, let’s go.”

Sighing, you stand, wobbling a little as you and Betty start walking. “I have to – I have to say goodbye to Roger.”

“Mhm,” Betty hums, taking your hand. “If you see him, you can wave, but we’re not stopping. C’mon, let’s get home.”

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmingly tired, barely able to keep your eyes open. Somehow, the two of you stumble out of the apartment complex and into the snowy street. Betty manages to hail a cab and before you know it, you’re back in your apartment, dressed in warm pajamas and covered in blankets, a glass of water on the nightstand next to you. There’s something in the back of your mind bothering you, something you know you should have done, but you can’t possibly be bothered to remember right now, so instead you burrow down further into your blankets and drift off to sleep.

***

When Roger makes his way back to the couch from the bar holding two cups of water, he finds it empty. His heart drops to his knees, it feels like, as he sits down. This is an uncommon feeling for him. He’s been with his fair share of women – his fair share of groupies – and yet he is painfully aware that you’re no longer sitting on the couch next to him. That you had left without saying goodbye – and that he had no way to find you again.

[auskultu]

Hendrix: An Experience To Remember

Chris Welch, Music Maker, June 1967

POP NEVER loses its powers to produce surprises. Just as the community imagined themselves shock proof and immune to any new madness the Brethren of Beat might have to offer—along came Jimi Hendrix. Recently groups had almost become conservative institutions like Ascot or the Labour party. Members of the public had begun to yawn visibly when the usual succession groupies appeared in the news, denying drug charges, being named by tearful Wendy Binns aged sixteen of Liverpool: and photographed with Clarissa Shrimpots in the latest whirlwind romance.

It seemed as if all the steam had gone out of British beat—sensation-wise. It was reaching the stage where if Steve Marriott, Paul McCartney, Lulu and Engelbert Humperdinck had danced naked in Trafalgar Square fountains during the rush hour, shouting hedonistic slogans, they would barely have made a news brief in the Metropolitan Water Board Gazette, tersely indicating that the free flow of water remained unimpaired during the incident. Beat needed a new shot of real excitement, and it was injected late last year by the arrival from New York of one James Hendricks, guitarist, singer and showman extraordinary. Chas Chandler, the ex-bass player with the Animals turned manager, discovered the guitar playing sensation blasting away in Greenwich Village and brought him to England as Jimi Hendrix. A group called the Experience was formed around Jimi comprising bassist Noel Redding and drummer John "Mitch" Mitchell. After a few rehearsals the group were hurled into the maelstrom of Swinging London's discotheques and within days the talk among the In Crowd was: "But my dear, have you seen Jimi Hendrix?" And the girls got quite excited about it all as well.

At London clubs like Blaises and the Bag O'Nails, the Experience blasted out an earth shattering combination of blues, folk rock and general hot rhythm. It drew swarms of guitarists. Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, Pete Townshend and whole legions of hippies stood on each others' shoulders in sweltering heat to witness the amazing spectacle of hairy Jimi, tiny Mitch and the Dickensian Noel gelling into one nerve blasting unit. And after the In Crowd had been duly impressed. the general public were let in by means of 'Hey Joe', which leapt as high as four in the Melody Maker Pop 50 of January 4 this year, and the follow up single 'Purple Haze'.

Who are these strange young men of the Experience? Why, whither and whence? These are questions that must be answered. Who is this Hendrix. who bites flaming guitars with his teeth, surrounded by deafening attendant sprites? Jimi's own background is rather steeped in mystery, which he does little to dispel. Happy, smiling, cheerful—Jim tends to skate blandly round his musical origins and influences. He is understandably more concerned with the present, rather than the past—or even the future.

Fuzzy haired Noel, who wears rimless goggles and plays bass guitar, admits that his musical career started fairly conventionally—in a school skiffle group. "That was when I was fourteen," said Noel, inhaling cigarette smoke and sipping Scotch when I went to meet the group at Jimi's London flat recently. "I went pro when I was sixteen and went ligging around England playing mostly jazz. Yes I did have an ordinary' job for a while. For two days I worked in a plastics factory making tracheotomy tubes. Then I went to Germany with a group working eight hours a night. We did radio and concerts and we could have done well but the group broke up.

"Then I was in the Loving Kind playing pure pop and we made three records. I left in June last year and I was broke for two months at home in Folkestone. Then I ligged around and came up to London with three quid and my guitar. I heard the Animals were having an audition for a guitarist. I saw Eric Burdon, but he was like a big star and I was too scared to speak to them. Then Chas asked me if I'd got a bass and I got the job playing bass with Jimi. It's funny how we get on so well," mused Noel. "Mitch likes jazz, Jimi is blues and I like rock-'n'-roll. It's amazing the way we play all that music together!"

Mini-Mitch the transistorised drummer started his showbiz career very early, and was in fact the Bisto Kid on telly-ads and even an original Ovalteeny-bopper. "I was always keen on drums as a kid," says Mitch. "I had toy drums when I was three or four. When I was ten I went to drama school and I was lucky because Rediffusion was just starting then and I did TV jingles for about two years. I was the Bisto Kid and the original Ovalteeny Bopper.

"I didn't know whether to stay at drama school or be a musician, then the Ivy League called me up and I went along and did 'Funny How Love Can Be', and all those things. I also did demo sessions with a group that became the Riot Squad but it just didn't work out. Sessions are a dead end thing and the best thing that happened to me was meeting Denny Cordell who knew Bill Eyden was leaving the Blue Flames. Bill wasn't very happy and I went and played with the band at Sussex University. Then Georgie asked me to turn up with my drums at the next gig and Bill wasn't there. Nobody ever said I had joined, so as far as I was concerned I was always on trial. I was very green. I wasn't given any help at all, but nobody could help and it did me good. I get on much better now with Georgie than when I was in his band. He had his own problems as well. I was going to leave the Blue Flames three weeks before it ended.

"I was very brought down after that then Chas phoned me up and said he had this guy Jimi. I had never heard of him but I went along. What surprises me is not how quickly it all happened, but how the band has changed since we started. We all want to progress all the time. What is a drag is the snobbery in jazz in Britain. They don't realise half the jazzmen in the States like Kenny Burrel do pop things as well. Music is music and people like Roland Kirk could come and have a blow with us because we are all interested in sounds. If you are a musician, you are a musician, and should play everything.

"It's the same as the blues fans. They are just as snobbish." Said Noel: "I don't think you can class our music. We are a meeting point between jazz and pop."

"When we go into the studio we never rehearse anything." said Mitch. "We never know what we are going to do in advance. We're a pretty raw group." Jimi, the kingpin of the group, is a guitarist and singer in the American tradition of blues showmen. Jesse Fuller has his Fotdella, a complex one man band machine. Jimi Hendrix plays guitar with his teeth. "I learned guitar from records and the radio," said Jimi studying the burnt out wreck of his guitar which burst into flames on the opening night of the Walker Brothers tour. "I never had any lessons. When I was seventeen I got a group together. I've never worked in offices or anything. I started playing around the South where I heard the blues. The first group I played with... oh God, I can't remember their names. I played in Nashville with a guy called Gorgeous George. He got me on some tours with B.B. King and Jackie Lewis.

"Then I played in a group in Greenwich Village and we were very popular. We played a blues style. Then I met Chas who asked me to Britain. He seemed like a pretty sincere guy, so I came. We formed the Experience and we're still experimenting.

Jimi played some rough acetates of tracks off their first LP—Are You Experienced.

"I want the album to show how we play in person," he explained. "I don't necessarily want it to be perfect. Most of the time we play the songs I write, but the boys are getting their little tunes together now. 'Purple Haze' was one step on the way to getting our own personal sound. But we have so many moods. We play exactly the way we feel. And I write about everyday things, and change the words a bit to make them commercial. We're happy playing together as a three piece. A few months ago we were going to add an organ, but that would have made us sound like any other group. I'm pretty happy right now. It's true we're one of the loudest groups around. It can be a fault to be too loud. But we don't mean to play loud. In fact we do play softly as well. You've got to have dynamics in songs. We just have so much trouble with amplifiers.

"I started using feedback first of all in the Village. I used a Fender amp. and an old extension loud speaker. It made the weirdest sounds. I'm so tired of 'Midnight Hour' things. I used to play them myself, but you still see groups in clubs that play the same things night after night. Everybody sings the same old songs and there's no variety. Why don't they write some of their own things? Anybody can write a nice little blues riff.

"We do get tired of our own numbers as well. I wrote 'Foxy' so long ago, what we are doing today is as different from that as night from day. Our music is getting uglier. I get my inspiration for songs from everyday things... and girls. Girls can misunderstand you so much—they really can. But it's nice to have them around. One song I wrote is about a girl I used to know. I think she's an acid head now—and much nicer.

"I think this group will stay around," mused Jimi. "The music is free form, and it has variety. I just wish I could sing really nice, but I know I can't sing. I just feel the words out. I try all night to hit a pretty note. But I'm more like an entertainer and performer than a singer."

Does Jimi dig much jazz?

"I dig if it's axes, and I like free form jazz like Roland Kirk and Mingus. But as far as that other stuff—playing standards all the time—no. Mitch is a jazz addict and he keeps on about this cat Elvin Jones all the time. I really would like to meet Roland Kirk and I'd like him to play with us. If people read this they'll say: That guy must be joking', but I really think we are doing the same things. We have different moods and I think some of the moods are on the same level that Roland Kirk is doing."

[thewebofslime]

FROM snorting ants with Ozzy Osbourne to that very graphic opening sex scene, Motley Crue's rock biopic The Dirt has left viewers shocked since its release last week. But real life with Motley Crue was "even more debauched" than the Netflix movie, according to their former limo driver Al Bowman. AL BOWMAN 14 Tommy Lee partying in Al's limo in around 1985 In an exclusive interview with Sun Online, Al Bowman, now 60, revealed how he would be tasked with finding the 80s rockers "virgin groupies", driving them back and forth to drug dealers - and even dropping them at strange Satanic ceremonies. He recalls doing countless "condom clean ups" in the back of his limo - and how drummer Tommy Lee would almost tip his car over with rampant sex sessions. "I enjoyed the movie but there was much more debauchery in real life," Al, who now lives in Henderson, Nevada, said. "I mean some of the sexual stuff they used to get up to was kind of disgusting but I guess there's only so much you can fit into 90 minutes. "I drove them for about five years, I became like a fifth member of the band. "I would take them to buy drugs, to pick up girls, to rescue them when they had partied too hard - they'd call me at all hours. "They called me 'Al the rock-n-roll limo man.'" Al, who has driven a host of other stars including Prince, Whitney Houston and Madonna, says all the band members would have sex with girls in the back of his limo - but he particularly remembers drummer Tommy Lee's in-car romps. He says the star was so well endowed that when he had sex with women in the back of his limo, the car "would almost tip over" when they stopped at red lights - while the girls would be "squealing with pleasure". ATLAS ICONS 14 Al (centre) with Motley Crue in a photo taken by legendary rock photographer Neil Zlozower MIKE STOTTS FOR SUN ONLINE 14 Al next to his platinum Motley Crue's Dr Feelgood record at his home in Henderson, Nevada AL BOWMAN 14 Vince Neil with first wife, Beth, in Al's limo in late 1984. AL BOWMAN 14 Mick Mars partying and drinking champagne with then-wife Wendy in the limo Play Video Ozzy Osbourne licks a puddle of his own urine in front of the band in Netflix's The Dirt "Tommy Lee has the biggest weiner I've ever seen on a man and he used to make the girls squeal in the limo," he said. "Because he was so big he just seemed to rock the limo more than anyone else - it was like it was going to tip over. "You couldn't tell when we were moving but when we stopped at a red light the limo would actually be moving back and forth and I would be thinking, 'Please turn green - everyone is looking'. "They'd all get high on coke and booze and screw - Tommy loved to f**k girls in the limo. "Sometimes he'd get himself into trouble - I remember one time when he was in a relationship with a girl called Candace but he'd been with this other girl who had a boyfriend - and all of a sudden the boyfriend came back and started chasing him with a knife. He had to jump in the limo to escape. "One time I took some photos of him and some girls in the limo and gave them to him - but his girlfriend found them and hit him over the head with a pan. "He called me up and said, 'Why did you give me those pictures - she's ready to kill me you a**hole!' "Another time he called me from a phone booth in North Hollywood and asked me for some cocaine to perk him up - then the line went dead - so I rushed to where he said he was and found him blacked out in the phone booth with his sports car still running. ATLAS ICONS 14 Al pictured with the band in another picture taken by Neil Zlozower in 1984 AL BOWMAN 14 Vince Neil, Al, and Rudy Sarszo from Quiet Riot at a Las Vegas party. ATLAS ICONS 14 Al known as "the rock n roll limo man" with Crue guitarist Mick Mars "I had to drag him into the limo and take him home - I saved his a** a couple of times." And Al claims while the band had no shortage of groupies - they were particularly fond of virgins - and would ask him to go find them so they could "pop their cherries". "They were always on the hunt for virgins," he said. "That was my job when I drove on the Shout at the Devil tour when they were playing with Black Sabbath - they would always say, 'Al go see if there's any groupies out there who are are virgins and bring them to us. We want them'. They just wanted to pop their cherries. "I remember one night in Bakersfield during that tour I got two virgins for Nikki and Vince and then they got me my own hotel room as a thank you. "That was a fun night." While Al remembers having a lot of fun with the band - he also remembers they used to have a dark side. He recalls taking various members to creepy ceremonies and rituals around Los Angeles. Al says bassist Nikki Sixx was particularly interested in the "dark arts" and he once gave him and famous occultist Anton LaVey, who founded the Church of Satan, a lift to a strange ceremony at a house behind the famous Whisky A Go Go nightclub in Hollywood. "I remember them having an interest in Satanic rituals and I used to take them to these weird parties at an old mansion in Hollywood where there'd be people doing all kinds of creepy stuff," "Nikki was very much into the black arts, Alistair Crowley, incantations, witchcraft, all of that stuff. "I drove him once with Anton LaVey and they were doing these weird chants. "I had an intercom system so if they put up the divider in the limo I would just turned on the intercom and listen to everything that was going on. "So I heard everything they were talking about. Then I dropped them at this strange house covered in ivy behind the Whisky A Go Go. NETFLIX 14 Motley Crue's story is the subject of Netflix film biopic The Dirt AL BOWMAN 14 Al pictured the first night he ever drove the band - outside their sold-out concert at Whisky A Go Go in 1982 AL BOWMAN 14 Al in front of his limosine with rocker Don Dokken in 1985. "There was some weird ceremony there and it was full of up and coming actresses and they were all into this stuff. "They were in circles and there were candles and blood and horse hair - all kinds of weird stuff. "At the time I just thought 'Ah it's Hollywood - it's all a big horror show anyway'. "I said, 'You guys making a horror movie about witchcraft or something?' But it seemed like serious business for them. "Nikki would call on spiritual forces. I remember asking him, 'What's the deal with all this stuff? Are you trying to call on angels from heaven to guide the band?' "He said, 'No I'm trying to conjure up demons from hell to guide the band.' So I was like, 'Ah so you're calling them up not down?' It was kind of funny." The band's hard partying and excess finally caught up with them in 1984 when singer Vince Neil lost control of his sports car after a night of boozing - killing his passenger - Brit Hanoi Rocks star Nicholas 'Razzle' Dingley - and injuring two others. Al, says he and Motley Crue guitarist Mick Mars saw Vince and Razzle just before the crash at the liquor store in Redondo Beach, California, where they had driven after hours of partying. "Mick had just got his divorce through and was celebrating with four women in the limo," Al said. "We stopped at the liquor store - we all lived in the same area of Redondo Beach and Hermosa Beach in those days. "We saw Vince and Razzle and they were both drunk - so we told them to get in the limo. "But Vince insisted in getting in his own car. He drove a Pantera at the time, which was not the most practical car for getting around town - it was loud and huge. "He was always a bit of a show off." Vince was sentenced to 21 days in jail for manslaughter - and he did 15 days of the sentence in July 1986. But Al said as soon as he was released - the rock star couldn't wait to get partying again. "The day he got out of jail - or at least very soon after - I was his driver to a concert at Santa Monica Civic - the bands Dokken and Ratt were playing as I recall," Al said. "Everybody went and everybody was welcoming Vince back like nothing had happened. MOST READ IN TV & SHOWBIZ TRAGIC AMY This Morning fans' tears as Ruth visits colleague brain damaged from nut allergy EXCLUSIVE 50 SHADES OF JEN Jennifer Aniston, 50, looks incredible in latex dress on VERY sexy shoot FEARS FOR KATIE 'Drunk' Katie Price struggles to get words out in ‘hyper’ video with Harvey NIC IT IN THE BUD Nicolas Cage 'files for annulment 4 days after getting married to Erika' ON HER COLL-IDAYS Gemma Collins shows off weight loss in bizarre solar-powered swimsuit "He just wanted to party. As soon as he got out of jail he started drinking again, trying to score coke, getting b**w jobs in the limo. "It was the first thing he wanted to do. Nothing had changed - it was the same old Vince." A representative for Motley Crue declined to comment on any of Al's claims but said: "All I can say is that it seems rather remarkable that four band members had one limo driver who was at all those places, when the band had multiple limos and drivers in that era." Al hit back saying it was "well known" he was a regular driver for the band - and that his photos prove it. GETTY IMAGES - GETTY 14 Vince Neil, Nikki Sixx, Mick Mars and Tommy Lee of Motley Crue at the premiere of Netflix's The Dirt earlier this month ELEKTRA RECORDS 14 The boys liked pretty different back in their 80s heyday - from left to right Nikki Sixx, Vince Neil, Tommy Lee and Mick Mars

[itsiotrecords-blog]

http://ift.tt/2roTiFs

Murder they wrote – and mostly, the celebs played out the murder onscreen or tried to appear murderous in their sports’ professions, or hell, even sang about slashing and clobbering and all things bloody and gory. But sometimes, the blood spilled into their real lives – and many either ended up dead or became murderers themselves. Whether it was the fame or the adulation that turned them into stone-cold killers, or just obsessive love that got them killed instead, what we usually see onscreen in movies became real life for many of them. And these celebrities were not murdered by strangers but by their loved ones, their better halves, or rather their worse halves. And if these celebs killed, they killed their partners too – and sometimes also their children. Why do people do this, why do they kill the ones they swore to love and protect all their lives? Psychiatrists and mental health experts may have fancy terms for this deranged behavior, but for the world in general – these are the famous people who flipped and slipped up bad – and either killed their spouses or got killed instead. Their stories are tragic and sad and became fodder for the media as well as for the general public – examples of how not to live your life. These are 15 celebrities who murdered their partners, and some who got murdered themselves and left behind a legacy of pain, betrayal, and tragedy.

#1 Chris Benoit: Murdered His Wife, His Son & Then Offed Himself Chris Benoit was a professional wrestler with a 22-year-old career behind him, and many considered him one of the greats. He held 22 championships between WWF/WWE, WCW, NJPW, and ECW. He was a two-time world champion, having been a one-time WCW World Heavyweight Champion, and a one-time World Heavyweight Champion in WWE and was even set to win a third world championship – that is the day he died. When he did not show up for the match and all calls went unanswered, the police were asked to do a welfare check on him. And the authorities discovered the dead and bound body of Benoit’s wife Nancy, the body of their seven-year-old son Daniel, and finally Chris’ body. Nancy had been bound, wrapped in a towel and asphyxiated while Daniel too had been strangled, though toxicology revealed that they both had been drugged as well. And then two days later, Chris Benoit used a weight machine to break his own neck. No suicide note was ever found – though many theories of this murder-suicide popped up: steroid abuse, brain damage, and a failing marriage. Benoit’s brain scan later showed his brain to be equal to that of an 85-year-old Alzheimer’s patient, a result of a lifetime of concussions and injury! A sad legacy for a bright star…

#2 Oscar Pistorius: Once Hailed A Hero, Now Just A Murderer Who hasn’t heard of Oscar Pistorius? The world praised his good looks and his zeal – and everyone found him heroic when this double-amputee competed against and won in the non-disabled sprinter category in the World Championships in athletics and also became the first double amputee to participate in the Olympics. To top it all off, he was in a loving relationship with model Reeva Steenkamp and all seemed glorious in his life. Till one dark day, or rather one loving day that turned very, very dark for Reeva – Oscar Pistorius shot her four times, on Valentine’s Day in 2013 at their Pretoria residence. His line of defense? He mistook her for an intruder. However, there were some messages from Reeva on Oscar’s phone in which she wrote that his anger scared her. Oscar was first found not guilty and sentenced to a reduced five-year sentence of culpable homicide, however in 2016, the sentence was appealed by the prosecution and he was found guilty of murder and sentenced to six years imprisonment.

#3 Sid Vicious: The Punk Rocker Who Lived Up To His Stage Name, Or Did He? Sid Vicious (John Simon Ritchie) was the bassist of the punk rock group Sex Pistols and like most musicians, he was hooked on drugs as well. Nancy Spungen was a sometime stripper, sometime prostitute and full-time groupie who followed band members around and soon entered into a relationship with Sid – and that was the beginning of the end of Sid and Nancy. Frankly, Nancy was no angel – rather a troubled, schizophrenic drug addict prone to violent outbursts for which the press had dubbed her Nauseating Nancy. Young, restless and always high, Sid and Nancy were the couple from hell and one day , it all turned deadly. Sid woke up after a drug stupor to find Nancy dead under the bathroom sink – with a single stab wound to the abdomen. Sid confessed, recanted, said he didn’t do it but was finally arrested for her murder. Four months later he made bail and celebrated with a party – only he never lived to see the morning and OD’d on heroin. Many claimed theirs was a suicide pact while others believe that a drug dealer named Michael had murdered Nancy and stolen money while Sid was out cold. The truth died with Sid and Nancy though.

#4 OJ Simpson: Did He Or Didn’t He? The Trial of the Century: the OJ Simpson case was when he was accused of stabbing his wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend Ron Goldman to death, just outside her home. Frankly, OJ and Nicole had always had a high-strung relationship full of fights, violence, and assault – and even having two kids did not simmer down things. They got married, divorced, and were planning to reconcile when Nicole’s life ended. For reasons no one ever understood, OJ was acquitted of the murders but later found liable in the wrongful death of Goldman, and of battery against Nicole. OJ never could bounce back from what happened – multiple lawsuits took away most of his money and money-making rights, and then he was arrested for robbery and sentenced to prison, where he still remains. He may have escaped his murder charge, but life has been justifiably tough for him – and many believe that he did indeed do it.

#5 Brynn Hartman: When Drugs Make You Kill Your Husband And Orphan The Kids Phil Hartman was an Emmy Award-winning actor and screenwriter and an all-around funny guy from Saturday Night Live and The Simpsons. In 1987, Phil married aspiring actress Brynn Omdahl, and the couple went on to have two children and plenty of fights over Brynn’s non-launching career, Phil’s success, and Brynn’s alcohol and narcotics problems. Phil had been supportive but her multiple stints in rehab and relapses had forced him to give her an ultimatum – one more slip up and it was all over. In 1998, Phil and Brynn again exchanged heated words over her drug usage. Brynn was enraged and, high on drugs and booze, shot a sleeping Phil at around three in the morning. She went to a friend’s house and confessed and they both drove back to check on Phil. The friend called 911 but by the time the police arrived, Brynn had locked herself in the bedroom and shot herself with the same gun – leaving both their kids orphaned in one drug-fueled rage.

#6 Paul Snider: You’re Leaving? Let Me Kill You First Paul Snider was a sleazy scumbag who somehow managed to make pretty girl Dorothy Stratten fall in love with him. He got nude pictures of the young woman and then sent them to Playboy. Dorothy became Playmate of the Month and they got married. Frankly, this could have been an X-rated happily ever after story except that Dorothy Stratten’s newfound fame and movie role put her in touch with director Peter Bogdanovich, with whom she began an affair. She was named Playmate of The Year and had just finished shooting a movie with Ingrid Bergman (directed by Peter), They All Laughed. Estranged from Paul, she filed for divorce but that was the last straw. Paul armed himself with a 12-gauge Mossberg shotgun, raped her, killed her, and then sexually abused her corpse – after which he offed himself with the same shotgun. Dorothy was just 20.

#7 Earl Hayes: From Music To Jealousy-Fueled Madness Earl Hayes was a budding rapper and was married to beautiful, if cheating, spouse, dancer Stephanie Moseley, since 2008. The couple had a tumultuous on-and-off relationship, and Earl was particularly crushed by an affair that Stephanie had with singer Trey Songz some two years back. The couple had decided to reconcile recently but it was apparent that Earl was having a very tough time trying to forgive and forget Stephanie’s affair. At the time of the alleged murder-suicide, Earl was Facetiming with boxer Floyd Mayweather and swearing about how he wanted to kill his wife. Reportedly Floyd begged him not to do anything violent but in a fit of rage, Earl went and shot his wife who was in the bathtub at the time. He then later spoke to Floyd again and then went on to kill himself with the same gun. At the time, Earl was facing a budding career and Stephanie was the star of the faux-reality VH1 series Hit The Floor. None of them could even reach the heights of stardom they wanted to, and their deaths only made them infamous…

#8 Robert Blake: When All Is Not Bonnie & Well Robert Blake, born Michael James Gubitosi, was an actor who first appeared in movies starting back in 1939 and he carried on all the way till 1997. Known for being a child actor and then a character actor, he was also the lead star in the TV series Baretta where he played Detective Anthony Vincenzo “Tony” Baretta. All his life though, Robert Blake was plagued with one problem after another and the moment he got success, he went on a violent binge or into depression. After divorcing his first wife, Robert entered into a relationship with Bonnie Lee Blakely who was known for exploiting older men and was also in a relationship with Marlon Brando’s son, Christian. After Bonnie gave birth to a daughter that paternity tests proved was Blake’s, they married but Blake never entirely trusted her. In 2001, Blake took Bonnie out for a dinner and when she was sitting in the car, waiting for him, she was shot in the head. Robert was tried for her murder but extenuating circumstances got him a not guilty verdict from the jury. Later he was sued by Bonnie’s three other children (from other fathers) and held responsible for her death – and ordered to pay them $30 million, upon which he declared himself bankrupt…

#9 Michael Jace: From Reel Life Cop To Real Life Convict Michael Jace is an American actor and probably best known for his work as Los Angeles police officer Julien Lowe in the FX drama The Shield. He even played Michael Jordan for a TV movie, and also co-starred with Russell Crowe in State of Play. He and his wife April Jace had been married for almost eleven years and had two young sons together when one fateful day, May 19, 2014, Michael shot and killed his wife. He then called the police and reported the domestic disturbance, confessing to having shot her. The police arrived to find April Jace, an American masters track and field athlete, dead of multiple gunshot wounds. Later it was speculated the Michael Jace, known to be a loving husband and a devoted father, was under considerable financial strain and had exchanged some words with April shortly before shooting her. He also believed that she was having an affair and wanted a divorce. He was sentenced to over 40 years in prison while their children went to stay with relatives. Apparently, just before he shot her in front of their kids, Michael taunted her, “You like to run so much. Why don’t you run to heaven?”

#10 Russell Neal: A Has-Been Success Now In A Mental Facility Once upon a time in the 90s, Russell Neal was part of the up and coming R&B group Hi-Five and was known to have quite a way with the ladies. Somewhere down the line, his head got too big for his shoes, and he left the band, and he slowly joined the ranks of the has-beens and the wannabes. Even then, he was able to snag lively and vivacious 24-year-old Catherine Martinez who was a fitness trainer, an aspiring model, and was even training to be a female boxer. Wooed by his charm, his popularity (which had waned considerably by that time), and even his money – Catherine had two sons with him. Russell was flat broke and not as popular as he would like to believe so Catherine became the breadwinner for the family. And then she was also put through domestic abuse. Finally, Catherine had enough and planned to leave Russell. Suddenly, she disappears. A few days later Russell strolls into the Houston Police Station and tells them that his wife needs medical attention after a domestic fight they had. Police storm the apartment where they find Catherine dead, and she had been dead for quite a few days, her body beaten and bashed in beyond recognition. Heartbreakingly, their two kids were also locked up in the same apartment. Until now, Russell Neal has not stood trial for his crime, claiming insanity as a defense plea. Maybe it runs in the family, for his younger brother Ronald Neal is also facing 80 years in prison for killing his wife, shooting her and letting her bleed out in front of the children as well.

#11 Claudine Longet: When Anger & Jealousy Mix With Stupidity & Negligence 18-year-old Claudine Longet wanted to be famous ever so bad. And luck was with her when she was en route Las Vegas to become a showgirl and was detained by a flat tire. Someone stopped to help her and it was love at first sight – for Claudine was dazzled by the famous Andy Williams and probably saw him as her ticket to fame, while Andy fell in love with this 18-year-old beauty. And so came marriage, money, three kids and a nominally successful career too. In the 1970s, the marriage between Claudine and Andy unraveled but by that time Claudine had enough friends in high places who in turn introduced her to champion skier, the filthy rich Vladimir “Spider” Sabich. The two hit it off and began a somewhat turbulent relationship that ended in a shocker in 1976. She called the police over to the house she shared with Sabich and her three kids, explaining that he was teaching her how to fire a gun when it went off – killing him. Though Spider was clearly shot in the back, police mistakes and an ineffectual court let her go scot free – which she celebrated with a holiday with her defense lawyer Ron Austin. There was such a public outcry that she maintained a low profile ever since, married Ron Austin, and was never really seen or heard from again…

#12 Rae Carruth: Ordered A Hit & Helped The Hitman Kill His Pregnant Girlfriend Once a popular football star, Rae became yet another in the list of has-beens when he injured his knee and began to wane as a football player, after his very first season. Sure he could have made a comeback, and definitely still had decent innings in football too, but the fact that he spent his time accumulating a harem of women took its toll. Love’em and leave’em was is motto – especially since he had a penchant for getting them pregnant. A girlfriend bore him a son whom he rarely visited, and then yet another girlfriend got his baby aborted – since Rae used to “joke” about killing them if they didn’t do so. One day, he took the joke too far. Cherica Adams was a “real estate agent,” actually a stripper in a gentleman’s club, who unfortunately fell in love with Rae and got pregnant with his baby. She wouldn’t abort it and didn’t findhis “killing” joke funny so Rae proved himself right. He hired a hitman, Michael Kennedy, to shoot her while she was eight-months pregnant with his child, and then blocked her car long enough to ensure she was shot right. Cherica died but not after writing her witness statement blaming Rae, and giving birth to her little boy – who remained brain damaged due to a lack of oxygen. Rae ran and was arrested when the police found him hiding in the boot of his car – with candy bar wrappers and two bottles filled with his piss.

#13 Gig Young: When Love & Life Go Astray Mention Gig Young now and you’ll only get confusion, but four decades ago Gig Young was a swashbuckling actor known for his good looks and roles and even won an Academy Award in 1969-70. So obviously this was one man Hollywood and fans adored. But the 1970s were the start of the end for Gig Young, for this man, originally named Byron E. Barr, was heading down the very slippery slope of alcoholism. Roles were few and far between and all his marriages had crumbled to dust. So Gig Young married Australian actress Kim Schmidt in 1978, and then ended the marriage just three weeks later, but took a rather violent way to end it instead. His alcoholism and his love for guns produced a deadly love child – murder-suicide. He shot his wife of barely three weeks in the head and then put another slug through the roof of his mouth and is buried in the Barr family plot – an ignominious end to one who had many accolades and fans.

#14 Sahel Kazemi: Loving Me Is Good, Leaving Me Is Not So the thing about affairs is that they often backfire, and sometimes with tragic results. Steve McNair, the NFL Quarterback the world so loved was mostly a nice guy, except that he loved to get into other women’s pants even while he was married to his wife Mechelle and had two sons with her. He had also fathered two other children via two other women and finally ending up having an affair with 20-year-old Sahel “Jenny” Kazemi. Sahel was possibly not very secure about their relationship, and one day, when Steve had joined her in the condo he had rented for them after putting his kids to bed, Sahel shot him from three feet away while he slept. And then she lay down beside him and shot herself too. Sahel didn’t just kill Steve, she also orphaned his four children who will now never see their father again.

#15 Spade Cooley: The “Gentleman” Who Killed His Wife In A Boozed Up Blaze Of Passion So sure, not many of us know of Spade Cooley now but back in the day, and we mean the good ole’ days of the 40s and the 50s, Spade was one cool western swinging musician, fiddler, singer, and actor. He came on TV, did concerts and shows and even did a few movies, and while Bob Wills was the Western swing king, Cooley had his own fan following too – especially because he looked a little like his friend, Roy Rogers. By the 60s Cooley-mania had waned a bit so he did what any man in a midlife crisis does: married a pretty young thing in her 20s, Ella Mae Evans, and then had three kids with her too. Cooley drank like a fish and finally, Ella had had enough so she asked for a divorce. Meanwhile, Cooley got to know that his wife had managed to sneak in an affair with Roy Rogers and that blew his top. In 1961, sloshed and high on drugs, Spade went to Ella’s house and proceeded to beat her to death, while she was naked in the shower, and in front of their 14-year-old daughter – after which he put out a cigarette on her breast to see if she was dead. He was arrested and jailed, and released three months early in 1969 to perform at a special concert for the police, where he got a standing ovation and then went backstage, only to keel over and die. Fittingly ironic, as many would say.

Source: TheRichest