((ooc; I finally got around to making this, love. ^.^ I hope you're happy with the turn-out. If anything is confusing about it or there's anything you don't like or would like me to change, simply let me know. Enjoy!))
Think if it as Woodstock-esque. The shows and parading going on that stage were taking freedom of speech and people's liberation movements to a whole knew level. Instead of characters staging an act as they song dainty British pop areas, there was only blatant audacity and the raw thrill of the radical part of a nation. They weren't anarchists as the common misconception went. The so-called rock stars that were bearing all were setting out to change the world when in the end; they'd only be able to change themselves. At the time, the realization hadn't dawned on those who were pouring their heart and soul into each song. Perhaps two to three decades ago, it was more accepted for people to use drugs because it was the only way for them to step outside of themselves and come to peace of mind for just one minute. Perhaps I'm giving the old-time rock stars. Our grandfathers of true music too much credit. Perhaps all they were drug addicts with tracks, red eyes, greasy hair, and abused bodies. Maybe our tributes are a waste when they really they were slowly killing themselves before their time... Then again, who hasn't been a hypocrite at some point or other? Jimmy Star wouldn't deny his hypocrisy in anything he was doing.
He was notorious for being blunt and showing absolutely no candor in his statements. It was said he was ruthless and had no tact in his entire being. The piece of trailer trash told it like it was. He hadn't showered in a week and a half. He'd made love in an animalistic manner to fans that perhaps worshipped him too much. They'd never know the half of it though. No one knew Jimmy Star's entire story. No one knew for sure what was true and what was rumor. It's what gave him his appeal. That and being the Kansas trash that he was. He'd grown up with bible thumping parents who came from bible thumping grandparents. His brother had corrupted his mind and he'd been caught red handed... Or should I say one handed. He knew what a good beating felt like and knew you weren't disowned until the door was literally slammed in your face. He'd tell you it was sheer luck that he was in the position he was in today. It truly was, and the whole truth "and nothing but the truth" about Jimmy Star was that he wouldn't tell a lie. It wasn't his nature. He could be the biggest prick you'd ever meet, but that's because he never left anything out if one took the liberty of asking.
It's that sort of person that makes it in the world. It's because of his personality alone that he's now shirtless under blazing hot lights on an outdoor stage. If he was on the ground new, he could see his breath. However, up here it's scorching. His pale green eyes are half scrunched shut with annoyance at the lighting. The guitar's plugged into the amp behind him and everything's set. This is exactly where he's always wanted to be. Every lyric means something. Every word, every syllable is meant for someone. That's where he'd differ from his future lover. He had feelings all his own... Until that night that is. Until they laid eyes on one another and everything in two very different worlds were turned outside down. It wasn't about to happen quite yet though. First, he had a show to put on.
Black shoulder-length hair was falling in sticky sweaty clumps to his shoulders as opening chords were struck. The ends were tipped in golds and bleach blondes. Whenever he found the time to wash it, long bangs would once again reach the bridge of his nose in copper hues and thin layers. Eyes were lined thickly in black liner and day after day of forgotten removal. He was unconventionally gorgeous with lips grown red from the perpetual habit of gnawing on them, angular features, and body slightly on the malnourished side standing at a full height of 5'11". He gave a couple inhales and exhales and a puff of a cigarette he was somehow managing to smoke along with everything else. He had that rare gift of multitasking just about everything at once; from a downward chuck of the cancer stick, to stomping it out with a black boot. Tight jeans were gracefully falling from jutting hipbones as he continued on in gold boxers. The ground cheered and he smirked. They wanted him. (Who didn't)? He was trashy, yes, but he was also completely obsessed with himself. It was like some sick twisted mission Jimmy Star had for himself to find and love someone more then he loved himself. He could do it... But they'd have to be deserving.
As of now, it was all for the fans. The body that was wasting away from the effects of heroine and cocaine was giving itself over to the ground with a running start and a jump. The euphoric feel of being lifted into the air was what he had anticipated and what he gained as he only continued screaming out lyric after tormented lyric. You couldn't deny that whether or not he was a whore in every sense of the word, the boy had talent. His name suited him, and you'd think from what's been said so far, that he could be completely happy with his life. However, there's always something that someone like Jimmy is craving. There's always this secret desire that no ones asked about so no one knows. The thing is, no one would have the prior knowledge to ponder such a thing. He was as open to the idea as anyone else. However, something about vengeful lyrics and a couple shows where he'd expressed some twisted ideas, and suddenly it didn't register with anyone that he was just waiting for someone like /him/ to come along. Call it destiny.
Call it destiny that when both feet were on the ground again, his eyes had locked with another rock star of his own genre, and without another word or another action, Jimmy Star had fallen completely in love without knowing what he was getting himself into. There had been the dysfunctional family, the beatings, the random endeavors and escapades in the backs of tour busses, at crappy old motels, in the rain, backstage. There probably wasn't a place he hadn't had the opportunity of claiming... But to the idea of true love or love at first site, he was a complete virgin. He was with his guitar under one arm, beads of sweat still on his brow and his long brown suede coat with fur lining put back on to his figure as he was staring in some completely obvious manner at a fallen angel. (Or so he thought)
"C'mon, Jimmy! Let's get the hell out of here"
"Not yet, Drew. There's something I want to-"
"Aaron got us some entertainment for the night. The rest of the show should be a waste anyway so let's just-"
"Fuck off. I have to do something first" Drew's eyes fixed on the little prize and some distorted smirk crossed over the drummer's features. "You meant that literally, didn't you?" "Maybe I did."
{-Steals Dani's icon then rushes off- xD lovely intro love! Love ya muchly!}
{{Guh just seen this sorry, I'll get typing....}}
It was all so free and liberal people would be smoking drinking and wearing what they wanted everyone was just so...so... shiny. A new era had come about and it was fantastic, all the colour and flamboyance.
It was gigs like this one that made you proud to be a music fan.
Standing at the back of the hall was a tall figure who was smoking a cigerette, he exhaled and a curl of smoke floated up to the ceiling joining the cloud of the stuff above his head.
this man was named Corbin Marlon, he was in a band of his own, and he was out this night not to scout the competition but to look at the talent. He wanted to know what moved people what made them get up and sing.
As the show ended Corbin amde his way to the bar grabbing a vodka and coke. He then moved his way out of the back door of the buliding, he stood in the alley way near the tour bus, his dark eyes glanced around the area equpitment was already being laoded into the van.
This man, french born was loud and very in your face so to speak. He had long brown hair which fell about his shoulders in messy curls streaked through it were flecks of purple and pink, giving him an air of effeminance {ooc: is that even a word... it is now}
Covering his legs were some shiny silver PVC pants, his torso however was unclothed other than a black scarf that was wrapped around his neck. in has hand he held his jacket.
Taking a long drink from his glass he savoured the taste of the alcohol, he was already feeling the effects of it. It's not as if he really ever did stop drinking or taking drugs but today he was feeling particuarly drunk.