you've got me on my knees

☆ layla suzanne quick.

[moon-shiines]

supernovajade‌:

@moon-shiines || closed. location: ladies restroom of Smoky Hollow Bar, evening.

She used to go entire nights without being recognized—Hell, there were even some days when she was all but invisible to the public eye. Nowadays her privacy was becoming more of a privilege than a right, and the way she frequently found herself wishing she could move about the world like she used to, without eyes on her, made her sick. 

All she wanted was to slink down to the bar and see a local band play some music. The last thing she expected was a skirt torn by a drunk so-called fan. Her presence had caused a kerfuffle between sets, the likes of which had thrown her into a panic attack. 

Nova shoved her way to the ladies room and locked the door behind her. 

With her eyes closed, the muffled sounds of the bar crowd almost sounded like being underwater. Though oddly calming, it did little to keep the moisture from her eyes. 

Everything comes at a price. Her loyalty to the band did, and so did the stardom. She’d expected it somewhat, but coming to terms with the fact that she would soon belong more to the public than she did to herself felt like a grip around her throat. 

She lightly stomped the bottom of her platform against the gross floor of the restroom, and took a deep breath, though upon doing so she realized she wasn’t alone. 

“Shit,” she breathed and swiped the moisture from her cheeks. Thankfully it didn’t seem like the other was too bothered by her mild breakdown. 

“You look really cute,” she mewled. “I love your outfit.” 

She hates this bar and this crowd and this music -- at least for the night. These nights felt like a waste of time, like a blur, but not in a good way. Sometimes it felt nice to have nights she would forget about, that bled together like the colors fading to blue at the end of a sunset, but this one felt more like a bad dream than anything else. So shockingly sobering that it almost hurt. 

The band was lackluster to say the least, but the crowd seemed to be as excited as could be, especially in between sets. Layla had heard the spat, just the same as anyone within a five mile or so radius, she assumed, but there had been too many people for her to really see what was going on. As such, she hadn’t seen anyone go into the bathroom either, so she was taken by surprise when she saw the sweet blonde with bright teary eyes standing in front of her.

“Oh honey,” she begins, setting her clutch on top the bathroom sink. “I like yours, too. Looks like your skirt might have seen better days though.” Her own jacket would be long enough to cover it if it were buttoned up, so she shrugs it off and offers it to Nova to throw over top.

“Can’t have Miss Monroe heading back out there like this, can we?” With a quick rip she tears away a couple of paper towels and extends a hand to dab a crystalline tear from her cheek. “Are you okay? What happened?”

[moon-shiines]

@nicky-slick ✩ first thing in the morning, before the sunrise, in a dressing room at the aurora theatre. 

There had been a show here tonight, and there had been a little get-together in this very dressing room, but now it was only the two of them that lingered in the mess of what had gone on earlier. Empty beer cans and liquor bottles sat on the top of every flat surface in the room, and the record player in the corner was skipping along to some old tune that only sounded halfway familiar. She lifts her head from the nightstand, wipes away the excess white powder on her nose, and leans back against the wall with her feet laid out flat in front of her.

“You sounded shit tonight, you know,” she teases, cocking an eyebrow. “Absolutely terrible.”

[psychedelicssights]

1973

Cher - Half-Breed

honestly, a babe and a half

[officialrembrandt]

hozier - take me to church

[moon-shiines]

rosaliekang‌:

Rosalie simply doesn’t have anything to say back in response to Layla’s sharp question; there’s no easy or right answer, and she’s not willing to face the music. Rose, for the most part, is awful good at reading what people want from her, and she’s quite certain that Layla wants nothing of what she has to offer. She knows this, but it doesn’t quite soothe the sting on her heart; so turn as she might from the quick wink she’s offered, unwilling to give Layla any more vulnerable spots to prod at, she turns back with equal haste. “As if it’s possible to keep up with it,” she shoots back, sitting down on a nearby stereo and slipping off the modest heels she’s to wear as Amethyst and swapping them out for higher heels. “I try to avoid rags like Good Vibrations – that is where you most predominantly feature, no?”

She takes the offered drink without a word of thanks, and downs it while Layla keeps on with her keen comments and questions; it’s a shit whiskey, really, but she’s also had swill worse back in her Bitch Frenzy days, and a drink’s a drink. She closes her eyes like it’ll protect her from the comment on her image, breathing in through her nose measuredly before opening her eyes and pasting on another smile. “Baby,” she says, all sugary condescension, an uncanny reflection of Layla’s own, leaning down and innocuously picking at an imaginary piece of lint on Layla’s shoulder before wrapping a firm grip on it, fingers digging in slightly. “There’s nothing worse for my image than being in your presence.”

She lingers for a spare moment, jaw working, before reestablishing boundaries. “It’s our own afterparty. Would be worse form to not show, so until my suggested curfew of 1:30, I’m yours to torment, indubitably.”

“When I’m not busy posing for centerfolds and cover shoots, I have been in Good Vibrations a time or two,” Layla shrugs her shoulders, refusing to make eye contact with Rosalie now. All their arguing is pointless, and she knows it of course, but she is drawn back like a spiteful moth to a flame. There is something exciting about the arguing and their mutual disdain for the other’s lifestyle, but regardless of their pointed words and sharp tongues, Layla would stop the world for Rosalie if she asked. Not that she knew why. “Is it frustrating for you to only be in magazines as a part of The Crystals or The Rhinestones or whatever? That they only want to hear about the band, not really about you?” 

It would be a complete and total lie to say it didn’t hurt to know that Rosalie had chosen a label and an image over their friendship years ago, and it would be a lie also to say that it didn’t still sting like a cut that hadn’t healed whenever she was put in situations like these. She allows herself only a moment to be discouraged, to want to turn on her heels and walk out the door, cower home with her tail tucked between her legs, before she squares her shoulders and stands up straighter. 

“You’re so brave to be seen with me, aren’t you?” She turns away from Rose and bends over to pull a cigarette from a case on the table, placing it between her lips and lighting it before blowing a puff of smoke to the ceiling. 

“Poor little Rosie, you always were a goody two-shoes.”

[moon-shiines]

eddienyx‌:

For once, it’s almost quiet as they’re sat outside, the warm breeze washing over Eddie as his eyes close easily, enjoying the lull while it lasts. The near-empty bottle of whiskey dangling between his fingers suddenly feels incredibly heavy, so he lets it drop to the cement before opening an eye at her question.

“I’m just a big dumb rockstar, baby. There are only three things on my mind.” He teases, glancing at the blonde sat across from him. There were worse things he could stare at on a late night. He grins at the thought, glad she’s moved onto another statement. She always wanted to know what was on his mind —- the thing is, he still hadn’t figured out what to tell her. “Mm, I positively look like shit. You, on the other hand-” He interrupts his own sentence to run a hand through his disheveled hair, grin quickly turning into a smirk. “Are a fuckin’ sight to behold, as always.”

He leans forward at the statement, meeting her halfway as he takes a long drag from the joint. He drops one of his knowing winks as he exhales slowly, thinking of the day he’s had before meeting up with Layla. “Well. I tried to write a song, realized it was pure garbage. Then, some music magazine wanted to do a spread on me, but I was already in a shit mood, so the label’s going to have a field day damage controlling that piece of anti-eddie propaganda. Needless to say, I needed a pick me up.” He finishes with a sigh. His day to day problems were a far cry from his old London life, but what fun was it if he didn’t complain?

“Enough about me. What’s there to do when you’re not busy being my much needed getaway?”

The clattering of the bottle against the pavement draws a squeal and a giggle from behind her smile, even in this sleepiest of states. Clunky leopard print heels of her boots tap absentmindedly along the concrete, in time with the drumming of her long fingernails against the table and the bobbing of her head to the song playing over the low and almost broken hum of the speakers outside of the pub. It doesn’t quite feel real, but does any summer night when even the moon starts to sink away?

“Can you even picture the drones of angry fans that would tear that magazine’s office to the ground if they posted a single sour sentiment about you?” She bites her lower lip and taps the cherry off the end of the joint and onto the ground. The idea of being awake for much longer is an exhausting one, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance that she’d leave Eddie’s side to simply go home and go to bed. “Sounds like you had a pretty long day, baby,” her expression turns to a mock pout before she breaks into a laugh once again, “you couldn’t look like shit or write a shit song if you tried, are you kiddin’ me?” 

Tired and restless and knowing that any measure of distance between them was too much, she pushes herself off the bench and moves to lay across the table so that her head is dangling over the edge next to him and her legs are sprawled across from them. A drag from the joint and a kiss to his shoulder later, she has had enough time to consider her answer to his question. 

“It’s simple, honey bunny,” a shrug of her shoulders and she moves to let her arms hang above her head, “I wait around and think about you, of course.” 

“Today I got my nails done and laid by the pool until I pretended I was going to bed, then I got dressed and snuck out to see you. It’s riveting, isn’t it?”

[sunnygubler]

Lucy Boynton || cherry-lipped girlfriend

[tv-saved-the-teenage-girl]

Lucy Boynton • Summer Vibes

~As we ride, we light the fire
The second sun’s our love’s desire~

[moon-shiines]

vitalwildfire‌:

@moon-shiines || closed. location: Vital Noise recording studio.

Ten hours of listening to the same drumbeat over and over again by a drummer who’d been too wasted the night before to get the tempo right was enough to do a man’s head in. 

He knew they’d get it right eventually, but, my God, at what cost? And speaking of ‘cost’, every minute re-recording shite was another minute wasted, and another minute wasted was more company dollars wasted. 

He needed some a break, some air, a beer, or something. 

The studio door shuts behind him as he enters the hall, but phantom drums play in his ear, still. The side of his fist makes its own little beat against the wall as he takes a breather, but the creaking of door hinges pulls him out of his peace. 

“Oi!” He shouts down the hall at the young woman perched in the doorway, laughing with some rando in the parking lot outside. Boots thud against the black and white checkered floors as he stormed down the hall to her. 

Goddamn groupies. No respect for confidentiality. 

“Hey! Peaches. You can’t be there like that. In or out. Are you even supposed to be here?” 

She can feel the music thumping through the door frame she is perched against, but she can’t hear it. Not really, not over the sound of the man speaking to her. When he’d approached her as she was entering, she’d had half a mind to ignore him and just keep walking, but she recognized him. He had been to parties at the mansion before, a friend of someone who worked in the kitchen or something or other, and now she’d listened to half his life story in this doorway. 

He was a dishwasher at somewhere she had never heard of, he was a big fan of the magazine, an even bigger fan of Violent Vale, and could she please get him into the studio? He promised he wouldn’t tell. She keeps him at bay, blocking him before he enters and insisting he tell her more about him to politely keep him in the parking lot. Only a moment before she finally gets tired of listening, she is accosted by Sonny. She knows him well enough, of course, with all the time she’s spent backstage or latched onto Silas. 

“Oh, hey there, sweet cheeks! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” A wide smile pulls on her face as she tosses her arms around him, pulling him into a twirling hug. “I was headed right for ya, I swear. Just got caught up chattin’, I hope you don’t mind.” Without a moment’s notice, she kicks the door closed with the heel of her boots and relinquishes her hold on him.

“What’s with the inquisition? I was just trying to keep that kid out of here, you’re welcome.” She raises her eyebrows as she piles her hair into a bun atop her head. 

“What are you doing, peaches? Shouldn’t you be in there listening and directing or whatever it is you do?”

[claerice]

Salvare la Faccia (Psychout for Murder) (1969) dir. Rossano Brazzi

[moon-shiines]

@eddienyx ✩ late, late, late at night, at an outdoor table at purgatory pub.

It is damn near impossible to see the stars from anywhere in Los Angeles, of course, but Layla’s eyes drift up to scan the sky for them anyway. She had always liked to picture them like little holes poked through the dark blue, like the navy sky was only a sheet covering shimmering silver behind it. She is tired, drunk, and sore from falling onto her knees at the roller rink earlier, but she’s perfectly happy right where she is -- as evidenced by the smile that forms on her face as her teeth stay wrapped around the striped straw poking out of her strawberry milkshake. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, honey?” She plucks a joint from her coat pocket and it quickly replaces the straw between her lips, though the smile stays on her face. (Who could blame her though for smiling around Eddie Nyx? He was only her favorite person to be around, after all.) The spark of a lighter lights up her face for a brief moment, but it is quickly shrouded again by a puff of smoke as she exhales. “You look hot. You know that, though.”   

Never one to be selfish, she takes the joint between her index and middle finger and leans her torso over the table to hold it up to Eddie’s lips instead. “Tell me all about your day. I wanna hear everything.” 

[moon-shiines]

rosaliekang‌:

It’s only backstage that Rosalie allows the smile on her face to drop, after all the goodnight LA’s and thank you for all your love and support’s and other sweet nothings she has to say. She nods to her members and drops off her mic with a crew member, honestly ready to skip the after party that someone’s bound to be stirring up. She hears her nickname and great show in combination, and she turns, a polite smile already on her lips; it shatters when she catches sight of who exactly is talking to her.

Condescension slips sugar-sweet off Layla’s tongue, and Rosalie takes a deep breath to steady the beat of her heart. “Layla,” she says, tone managing to be both acerbic and honeyed. “Ever the charmer, aren’t you? Then again, no one spends time in your company for your charm. I suspect your mouth is, well, otherwise occupied, wouldn’t it be?” She takes one step, two steps closer, using her height advantage to shoot a smile down at her before strolling away.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” she says. “Surprised you didn’t already order for me. Seems sort of like groupie culture to be on top of these things. Losing your touch now, Layla?”

Okay, she has to admit, the words that drip from Rosalie’s pretty smile sting like honeybees in the middle of summer. Though she supposes it could be taken as a compliment in disguise, as it isn’t really much of an insult to be considered a woman of such diverse talents. “You know, my charm is just one of the things that keeps me in good company.” She offers a quick wink and a tip of her glass, “Do you make it a habit to keep up with what exactly my mouth is doing? It must be a riveting life you lead, huh?” 

Her fingers trace over the glass bottles that litter the bar before landing on a bottle of cheap whiskey, one that looked like it could fit right in amongst the bottles on shelves in a 7-11, and pours it into a glass of ice. “They let you rhinestones have whiskey? I’m surprised it’s not all Shirley Temple’s or a sex on the beach for the princess -- but I imagine you are tired of all sugar and no spice.” A smile that does not disguise her condescension is pulling at her lips, almost cartoonish, almost grotesque.  

“Surprised you’re even allowed to be here. Seems like it might be bad for your image.” 

[moon-shiines]

@violentloch ✩ sometime in October of ‘69. (drugs tw)

There had been talk of a rehearsal, of maybe going to a movie after, of ordering pizza and listening to vinyls -- but all of that was thrown to the last of the lingering summer breeze when Layla had been able to get her hands on a little clear bag of smack from another girl at the mansion. She hadn’t spent a ton of time with the boys from Violent Vale, just close enough to be invited to hang out during these afternoon events, but she was more than willing to share with their handsome frontman, of course. Who could blame her?

Time had gotten the best of her, and now she was planted on her back on the hard wooden stage with her heavy head rested on Silas’ abdomen and an ache in the back of her throat that refused to make itself sparse. 

“What’s Bristol like?” She asks, only to fill the void that lingers over them and minimize the ringing of the quiet that had settled in the room since the rest of the band had disappeared. Her fingers tug at her shirt at the inner creases of her elbow, still sore from the needles they had become all too familiar with earlier. 

“Do you ever get lonely?” Her neck cranes as if she is going to make eye contact with him, but her eyes stay closed. “Playin’ like this all the time... is it exciting?”

[moon-shiines]

@rosaliekang ✩

For as much drama and petty anger seemed to surround Layla and the songbird, there existed a snowball’s chance in hell that Layla wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to head backstage after a Gemstones show. No matter the arguments the pair of them had endured in the past, she was certain there would be plenty of new, fresh disagreements to get into in their future, and she would be a liar to say there wasn’t a small part of her that thrived on their quarrels. 

“Great show, Rosie,” Layla smiles and raises a glass to the sparkling Amethyst in front of her, “I bet nobody even noticed that butchered choreography. The fact that you were flat on the chorus pretty well covered it up, you lucky star, you!” Her tone is bubblegum sweet, and the patronizing smile on her face is probably only a result of the baker’s dozen beers she’s already allowed herself to imbibe upon. 

“What are you drinking, Amethyst? My treat.” 

[californiadreaminghq]

I heard it on the grapevine…

In honor of our very first round of acceptances, and all the fabulous apps you all prepared for us, we’ve got a special ask meme for you based off the very characters we were so lucky for you all to have brought in!

If you can, try and send a couple to whoever reblogs the meme – nobody likes to feel left out! Participation isn’t mandatory of course, but we think it will be so fun! Don’t you?

The Cherry Bomb — What is your characters favorite outfit to wear out on the town?

The Desperado — What does your character do in their downtime, when they need a little self care?

The Fame — If your character were to grace the headlines of a tabloid, what would be the juiciest bit of gossip the readers would find out about?

The Heart of Glass — Who is the person who means the most to your character?

The Hot Blooded — If your character were to leave the city, would they be the same kind of person they are right now?

The Killer Queen — What was your character’s family like?

The Landslide — What was your character’s first love like?

The Levee — What would be the title of your character’s autobiography?

The Missing Angel — Does your character have a hero? Who is it?

The Moondust — Where does your character spend their paychecks?

The Night Flyer — How does your character react to authority figures or being told what to do?

The Personality Crisis — What is your character’s greatest vice?

The Stardust — Does your character like to be alone, or do they prefer to have people around?

The Stranded — How does your character show that they care about those close to them?

The Wildfire — What is the worst lie that your character has ever told?

[sweetbaby96]

Visit Original Link

The Guess Who - American Woman

[moon-shiines]

tigerh0logram

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CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’! NAME + INTRO: admin katie! i...

bob dylan never had a good album, you’re just dating a white male musician

you look like bob dylan, hating ass, musty