Fall Apart • •

[dallas ferguson thomas]

There was a lot of very unglamorous stuff about being a rock star. It wasn’t all parties and music, despite what the public wanted to believe. Dallas spent a lot of time in meetings; the very things he hated. He also had to travel a great deal and while he loved seeing new cities and places, there was a lot of time where they were on the road or just stuck in traffic, or waiting on delayed flights. In times like those he craved nothing more than a bed and a shower. He wore this fantastic persona when he was on stage, under the bright lights and holding onto his guitar, but Dallas had been raised with simple pleasures, and that was where he returned when he was away from all of that. Money had afforded him a nice home, the best amenities, but none of it was wasted on gadgets and boy’s toys that looked pretty on shelves, but bored everyone after twenty minutes. He made sure his family was comfortable, and threw parties when he needed to blow off some steam. Beyond that, most of it was saved for a rainy day, or went on things he considered personal trinkets. He had a sword collection, for example. That was something only a few close friends knew about, for reasons Dallas thought was pretty obvious. He didn’t want someone drunk or high to dig them out and wave them around at a party. They were pretty to look at, but they were deadly, too.

It was something the media would have a field day with. They already loved the smallest bit of gossip. Already they snapped any photograph they could that looked personal and suggested Dallas had found the love of his life. He could be grabbing drinks with a handful of buddies, but the minute only two of them were at the bar, it was all romantic and completely ripped out of context. He had tired of correcting them, so had stopped doing so long ago. He could only apologise to those who were dragged into it with him, and promise that it would blow over soon when the next big thing in the world of celebrities happened. It was usually within twenty-four hours, but Dallas still hated that so much of his life wasn’t his own.

He was perfectly happy with arranged interviews. He’d answer everything honestly and openly. It was the one thing he’d promised himself from the start. He was going to be himself from the get go. If someone asked him a question there wouldn’t be a veiled answer. Dallas wanted his fanbase to like him for his music, and if he could inspire anything in those who looked up to him he wanted it to be honesty and comfort in oneself. With another interview scheduled for today, Dallas sat in the bar lounge that had been picked out by his manager and nursed a Dr Pepper in his hands. He didn’t drink alcohol with interviews, despite his party boy reputation. Dallas liked to remember what he said in case there was a slimy reporter who twisted things out of context; there had been a fair few. He crossed his ankle over his thigh and slouched in the chair, flicking his head to toss the hair back from his eyes. He hadn’t been there long, but sitting around with very little to do but wait always left Dallas fidgety. He wished he had been able to bring his notebook. At least that way he could have worked on a song.

• • •

TAGGED! Jagger Scarlett Redfearn
WORDS! 596!
OUTFIT! Rogue Rocker
LYRICS! Friday I’m In Love - - - The Cure
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Jagger Scarlett Redfearn]

Jagger hated running late and habitually left her apartment thirty minutes earlier than she ever needed to just to make sure she would be on time; especially when it was a work thing. Sure, it usually meant she was twenty minutes early for everything but there were those days when an accident happened two cars in front of your taxi, forcing him to slam on the brakes and stay, stuck in the mess. Jagger hadn't seen what happened but she still handed her card to the cabbie, along with the bills to cover her fare just in case the cops wanted to hear for themselves she saw nothing. She didn't expect her phone to ring but if it did, she was prepared with her statement and an offer to go down to speak with the detective in person. She had a job to do however and managed to get herself there ten minutes late, but there. She took an extra minute to catch her breath and run her fingers through her messy hair. She'd had to run through the blocked traffic, which extended farther than she'd originally thought and then another block up and one over before she even saw a yellow taxi. That in itself had been shocking but Jagger would have run the entire way in her chunky boots.

With one more deep breath, Jagger shook her head and started towards the hotel bar. It was swanky and not at all what Jagger was used to. But then, she was usually conducting these interviews before or after shows, in the back rooms of the arenas and theatres. And more often than not, it was after so she was sweaty and mussed from jumping around with the rest of the crowd, enjoying the show. Jagger was also quite used to touring with bands, getting inside looks at the day-to-day things that went on out of the public eye. She enjoyed seeing what went on behind the scenes, getting the in-depth view of it all. This wasn't just an interview for her to write about afterwards, it was an interview for her as well. If Dallas Thomas liked her work, there was potential for more there. She might even be asked to head out on tour with him and his band, get to know the guys who rocked stadiums with the small town kid who started out by winning a local contest. But first she needed to prove herself.

Something she wasn't doing a very good job of being late. With another deep breath pushed out past her lips, she headed for the man in question at the bar. Today, she was there to interview him for an article, get a couple pictures if he'd be willing to indulge her and thank him for taking time that could have been spent on something more important. Jagger had a speech prepared for her introduction and apology for being late and opened her mouth as she reached her current subject to start it. "Dallas Thomas. I am so sorry I'm late, extenuating circumstances prevented me from getting here on time, which is ridiculous since I left my apartment nearly an hour earlier than I really needed to so you wouldn't have to wait in the first place and I would be better prepared. New York for you, I suppose." She spit out, horrified that she'd just admitted she was going to wing this entire meeting more than the fact she'd barely stopped herself from bitching about what could have been a serious car accident. She didn't know when she'd gotten so jaded about New York City traffic but it needed to change. "I, ah, I'm Jagger Redfearn and I'm deeply regretting that horrific apology."

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || dallas ferguson thomas
Words || 623
Clothes || She's naked.
Music || Yours --Russell Dickerson
Notes || <3

[dallas ferguson thomas]

It was almost impossible for Dallas to lose track of time when he was working. He had never needed to keep a diary before he became famous, or scribble things into the tiny calendar boxes. Now, though, there were studio sessions and tables booked in places he once had never dreamed of being. Unless he had some time to himself (which usually only came after the end of a long tour), Dallas was always supposed to be somewhere. He had to set multiple alarms to break him out of any potential writing session in his apartment. Once he was caught up in the music he wasn’t going to get anywhere else unless a shrill siren echoed through the place. Which it did, much to his annoyance sometimes. He was grateful for the chances he had, but he sometimes wished the world could see all the work that went on when he wasn’t catering to fans or filling a festival stage slot.

“Exhaustion hitting Party Boy Dallas” – once a headline in some trashy magazine – had in actual fact just been a drained musician who had spent all night in a recording studio after inspiration had struck him like a bolt of lightning. He was dishevelled and tired, but the same could be said for anyone who had forgone sleep to get the lyrics and music down on something he had felt was magnificent. It was an unreleased album right now, missing a few songs before completion, but Dallas hoped to have it out to the public before the end of the year. It was easily doable, and he had been quite lucky in that no demonic writer’s block had struck him so far since work began on the project. He planned to make the most of his muse since it was always a sudden trip that kept him staring at the gravel, wondering if he would ever feel inspired to write again.

He hadn’t even realised that the interview hadn’t started at the arranged time. His life might have been scheduled around the hours and days, but Dallas wasn’t that type. He didn’t clock watch unless a meeting was boring him to the point of tears. He often wished he could move at his own pace more, but there was a manager who would remind him where he had to be and when – as though he couldn’t be trusted entirely to get there on his own. His image was just what the media had portrayed; Dallas was actually more reliable than the ‘party boy’ stereotype made him out to be. When the journalist did show up, he had barely noticed that she was late. A smile spread across his face listening to her apology. It was something real in a world where so many faked being something else. He liked it. “No regrets here.” He teased playfully, offering out his hand to her. “Dallas Thomas, as expected. Can I get you a drink or some snacks? This place does a promising share platter.” He wanted her to be able to relax for this session, even if it was work. He hated when he was approached stiffly by someone scribbling in their notepad and acting like the world was always so damn serious.

• • •

TAGGED! Jagger Scarlett Redfearn
WORDS! 546!
LYRICS! Friday I’m In Love - - - The Cure
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Jagger Scarlett Redfearn]

Jagger had always known that music was going to be in her life. It was a no brainer with her name alone. She was destined to do something with music; even if it ended up just being her listening to it constantly. She'd played a game once with friends at a party, a would you rather of sorts and she'd been asked if she could live without music, any music including that horrible elevator music and have no suspenseful moments in movies or television, including movies. Without hesitation, she'd give up television in a heartbeat. Jagger could not live without music. There was a song for every emotion, a perfect melody for every moment in life and she wanted to explore them all. She might have preferred rock music but she was a fan of all genres and musicians. She loved that they were out there doing their own thing, showing the world a personal side of themselves that perhaps no one really knew.

Once upon a time, she'd hoped to be in a band of her own but while she could play a mean guitar and keep up well with the drums, she'd never found that group. She never gave up the music and her room was filled with records on vinyl, instruments she could play and a couple she couldn't but she'd shifted gears a little bit. While she loved the play, Jagger found she really loved writing about music and telling the world what she thought of what was out there. She wasn't shy about her words, she didn't hold back but she rarely had a bad thing to say about someone. It seemed to be that a lot of people were intimidated by rock stars, putting them up on a pedestal and fawned over from afar but Jagger knew they were regular people and required people in their lives that treated them as such; if only to keep them from getting that big ego everyone expects. She'd gotten it wrong a time or two in the past but Jagger still believed they should be treated like anyone else on the planet; with courtesy and humour and honesty.

She hadn't wanted to be late, hated it when she knew people were waiting on her and she was holding up whatever plans were going on. The feeling was especially worse when it was a job, one she was hoping and praying to all the deities for. She knew from every imaginable source that Dallas was going on tour soon and she wanted a place on it. This whole conversation and accompanying article was pretty much her version of an audition. If it worked as well as she hoped, then with any luck, she would be getting a phone call, telling her to cancel all her plans for the next few months. If the rumours were true, this next tour was going to be a huge, worldwide tour. "Dear God, he's offered me food. I think I may actually love you." She said without thought or hesitation. Her talking before actually thinking about what she was saying would get her into trouble eventually but Jagger would only worry about that when it was too late to fix it. She was a spirited young woman with thoughts about how the world should run and often expressed those sentiments at every opportunity. "Food sounds incredible actually, thank you." She added with a smile, mostly to make sure the rock star she was there to interview realised she was serious about the food and partially to make her previous words less awkward; if such a thing we're at all possible. She was off to an excellent start.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || dallas ferguson thomas
Words || 623
Clothes || She's naked.
Music || Yours --Russell Dickerson
Notes || <3

[dallas ferguson thomas]

It was easy for Dallas to be painted like every other Rockstar. He was deemed a party boy, with a girlfriend for each day of the week just because he was papped coming out of a bar while talking to a pretty lady. Most of them were the partners of his crew, or were other musicians he had collabed with or toured alongside. Dallas actually did a lot more song writing than the casual fan knew. He would work with some of the best in the industry and the song would go with them instead, or an entirely different person altogether depending on how it suited them. Dallas knew what he liked to perform, but it wasn’t always what he wrote. And while some artists may have kept that work hidden away for years and years, Dallas was of the opinion that there was at least one person in the world who needed to hear that song and so it didn’t matter who sung it so long as it was out there, and the singer knew the emotions behind the lyrics.

Music was medicine – as he had once been quoted as saying. It was something Dallas truly believed in. There was a song for every ailment, every mood swing. It encompassed every moment of human existence and helped people find a way back to their happy place. He could say that with confident because he had seen it, had fans write to him saying it, and he had experienced it for himself. The world would be a much quieter, sadder place without music. It didn’t matter the genre – though everyone had their favourites – so long as the music was playing as loudly as it needed to be heard. Dallas could preach eternal about music, and would happily say that it was more powerful than any religion. His management were less keen on him taking that sort of stance, but most of the time there was little they could do after he had said it. Besides, his music was rock music, and anyone overly religious had already condemned him to hell for playing his guitar in the first place.

In reality though, Dallas was a passionate guy who did make the most of his youth. Whenever he did find someone to plan a future with, he hoped to keep it out of the limelight. They deserved that even if he didn’t. Dallas was in no rush to settle down though, since he was still focused on those world tours, making a stage come to life while being deafened by the screams of his fans. He chuckled, thinking that he heard declarations of love a little too often to ever know when one was serious. It was par for the course in the music industry, but he never let them go to his head; his momma would only knock it out of him with the dishcloth. “Well, if there is one thing I have learnt in this life it’s that you never let a woman go hungry.” He flashed Jagger a charming grin, tossing in a wink for good measure before handing her a menu. “Knock yourself out, Miss Redfearn. It’s on me.” He preferred his interviews to be casual, relaxed – like old friends catching up and talking shit. He saw food and maybe a drink as the perfect way to head in that direction.

• • •

TAGGED! Jagger Scarlett Redfearn
WORDS! 567!
LYRICS! Friday I’m In Love - - - The Cure
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Jagger Scarlett Redfearn]

Music had been Jagger's escape from the world when things went sideways. It had started long before it had become a coping mechanism and continued making her happy long after she'd found herself again. The record collection had grown progressively over the years to take up more than enough space, especially in New York but Jagger wouldn't have it any other way. There was a song out there for every single moment in time, you just had to know the right one. Music could take you anywhere and make you feel anything. It emphasised and enhanced the world, it made you think, made you feel. It was all Jagger wanted out of life. And she was quite happy to get paid to listen to music for the rest of her days. While she preferred live music, there was no denying that she always had music playing around her. If she wasn't able to have music playing out loud, her headphones would be pouring out the melodies of her dreams wherever she went. It was occasionally a problem when her sister required quiet and Jagger was dancing around and singing along to whatever song she had playing but they made it work.

Normally, Jagger would bugger off somewhere to let Dodge work her magic but that wasn't always possible. At least if she did land this job, tagging along on Dallas's next tour, Dodge would have the place to herself for at least eight months. It was exciting and something Jagger could have only dreamt of until recently. But it all hinged on this conversation and what she could get Dallas to tell her. She didn't want to get into the personal life of the rockstar too much because he was a person, too and she felt like she needed an angle that wasn't going to get overplayed. However, she also knew that she didn't want this to be solely a work thing. It was always best to be friendly and have a conversation over an interview. Jagger always felt like proper interviews were always so cold and calculated and she never wanted to be considered that.

Jagger's smiled split her face at Dallas's offer. "Famous last words, Mr Thomas ." She enjoyed food, especially when it was good and Jagger was not shy about eating. She had seen too many women deny themselves just so they could fit into a size triple zero pair of jeans. Jagger didn't care if she gained a bit of weight or wasn't that "perfect" size because there was no such thing. Marilyn Monroe was a size thirteen and she was fucking fabulous. Every man on the planet wanted her, every woman wanted to be her. She was incredible and Jagger figured if she could do it, why not everyone else? She had no idea where this heroine chic thinness came to be the ideal beauty standard but she was very much against it. A quick look at the menu revealed they had a mixed platter of finger foods, enough to feed more than just the pair of them but Jagger was hungry. When the waitress came around again, Jagger smiled at her and ordered the platter to spilt and the speciality cocktail because she hated formal, uptight interviews and preferred to kick back and glean her information that way.

♦ ♦ ♦

Tag || dallas ferguson thomas
Words || 554
Music || Yours --Russell Dickerson
Notes || <3