dillcns-blog

[dillcns-blog]

[dillcns-blog]

( qvinntessential )

       “So when is something fun happening next?” The girl tapped out an anxious beat on her leg, unable to keep still for even a moment. Quinn was bored and ready for something interesting to happen. Anything would do at this point. “I think a night out is in order really, but I’m willing to settle.”

“Create your own fun.” Dillon didn’t babysit, she didn’t deal with looking after and entertaining people. That wasn’t her cause, nor did she ever plan for it to be. “You’re willing to settle? Settle for what, exactly?” She didn’t do going out, either. Nights out were for freshers week and middle-aged moms who finally get a night off from the kid. Not for roadies who would rather be sleeping at any given moment of the day. 

[dillcns-blog]

£350. When your only instruction is to ‘be sensible’ it begs the question; what is sensible? Dictionary definition: done or chosen in accordance with wisdom or prudence; likely to be of benefit. Dillon was easily one of the more sensible people in the house, considering her veins were not consistently fuelled by nothing but narcotics. It didn’t mean to say that she was constantly making sensible choices. Just that in comparison to the others, she might as well have done. 

£174.70 A few clicks, six items and a paypal login later, £175.30 of the initial money had been spent. ‘Sensible clothes’ they had said, and so Dillon bought sensible clothes. Did they have to be Calvin Klein branded? No. Did they have to be all black and comfortable? Yes. Did Calvin Klein happen to have a correlation with being all black and also incredibly comfortable? You betcha. 3-5 days, a confirmation email read; that was 3-5 days of pure agony given the lack of patience that Dillon was exhibiting. You had to wear comfortable clothes, workout clothes. Technically she followed the orders - it wasn’t like all £350 had gone on something completely insane. Like.. a puppy. 

£152.70 Examples of what classed as ‘sensible’ in the eyes of management came at one glaringly obvious choice for Dillon; business phone. There was plenty of business to be had being a roadie; you could phone venues, figure out space, all while doing this from the comfort of a phone number that they wouldn’t be able to track down. £22 every month seemed like a fair price, so the woman headed in to her local EE shop and promptly purchased a BlackBerry Classic. Okay, so nobody used BBM anymore, but BlackBerry Classic offered something that an iPhone or Android could not - the promise that you would feel like a damn important business man everytime you attempted to make a phone call. 

£96 Friends came with plenty of benefits, and as scrolls through Facebook feeds would show, they also came with favours. Having saved the day on many an occasion for the bands that drifted in and out of Dillon’s old bar, she was owed plenty of favours. It was rare that the woman would come and collect, yet on the occasion that it did, she was often full of good reason. £56 was thrown towards a new tattoo, it’ll be fine in typography, left forearm based. A discount was thrown her way, given the connection with the artist but Dillon didn’t suspect that her management would be too happy about it anyway. It was the only thing she’d purchased that didn’t necessarily benefit them in any way, so far at least.

-£4 What was there to do with ninety-six pound? She was at a loss, debit card burning a rectangle-shaped hole in the pocket of her skinny jeans. Searing flesh and demanding to be spent; she was good at saving, yes, but she wasn’t that good. Dillon did the only thing she knew how; she crossed the street, took out five £20 notes and crossed back over. Her derriere was marched inside of a brick building and slammed the money down on the table before walking away. Back in the confines of the mansion walls, a snazzy new BlackBerry was pulled out, fresh email opened up. 

Dear Management, Punish me if you’d like to, but I spent the remainders of your £350 (of which I had £96 remaining) by donating it to London Irish. I doubt I have to explain why, but in case you’ve forgotten, I was born and raised on that island. Also, I took £4 out of my own money to do so, round it off and make a whole £100. Please, don’t rush to reimburse me. There are no receipts, so I took it upon myself to write this. And yes, this was written on the BlackBerry. Consider yourselves my first order of business. 

- Dillon McKinley Road Crew for Misguided Ghosts. 

[dillcns-blog]

( dakotagriff )

“Whoa, I’m way too high for this babe, but thanks for this little… lesson, or whatever.” Dakota’s eyes widened a little - she herself could be a pretty high strung bitch at times, but Dillon literally had no chill ever, and it was exhausting. 

“I’ll accept that as an apology, Dakota. Since I know those five letters probably haven’t left your mouth since you were in the delightful prepubescent years.” A smile couldn’t help but display itself across her face; it meant that she had won, that she was victorious in the tiny battle of junkie vs. sober. For tonight, at least. 

[dillcns-blog]

( dakotagriff )

“Not my fucking problem; but if you hate all us,” she did air quotes, “’junkies’, then don’t be a roadie for a band maybe? Like honestly, why are you here.”

"Andy Hurley, Beau Bokan, Chad Gilbert, Soupy Campbell, Patty Walters, Winston McCall. Do you know who those people are? They’re people who are intelligent enough to realize that drinking, smoking and shooting up fucking heroin isn’t key in having an enjoyable time. Why am I here? Because without me Dakota, your precious fucking instruments don’t get tuned, your stages don’t get up and they don’t get deconstructed. Without me you don’t get spare hands when you need it. Without me your instruments just get taken, switched out, untuned and left for shit. Without me half of the shit that you think magical fucking pixies do before a show, doesn’t get done. Without me, you crash and burn. So how about you learn the fucking job roles of the crew that help you before you start running your mouth? I’d want to see you try and do this shit.”

[dillcns-blog]

( gunnxrs )

“Hey, you’re the one who said it wasn’t because of my looks, so you tell me,” he answered a bit smugly. Of course Dillon was gorgeous; it wasn’t hard to notice that upon first glance. She and Talia were very different, and maybe that’s why he was with her - something so different from what he had, and Talia was jealous of it - well, he hoped. He wanted her to feel how he felt with her, though that wasn’t right. “Shit, I don’t know, maybe I was gonna be nice and order you a pizza one day,” Gunner replied defensively. “If you wanna just stick to knowing what the other looks like naked, that’s fine by me.”

“Stop deflecting, Gunner. Answer the question and stroke my ego.” Though she didn’t need the validation, it didn’t hurt to have a little narcissistic inflation every now and then. If anything, it was therapeutic, it was good for the soul. “You were going to order me pizza? Are you suggesting that I’m unable to afford my own pizza?” Her eyebrows raised, stone faced, blue eyes demanding an answer. “Are you sure? Are you one hundred percent positive that you’re not going to go all Care Bear on me.” 

[dillcns-blog]

( dakotagriff )

“Yea,” she chuckled, “sorry bout that. Just don’t eat random food in this house, I guess? Especially if you want to stay…sober.”

“Here’s a fun idea, how about all the fucking junkies in the house keep their shit to themselves.”

[dillcns-blog]

( mgstella )

“You sound like my mom.” she pouted. “Things are bound to get mixed up in the wash anyway. What’s the biggie?”

“Stella you’re continuing to talk about this as though I plan to change my mind. As though the more you try to convince me, the more likely I am to let you borrow my clothes. My clothes are mine, and you can bust out the puppy dog eyes or heck, even a real life puppy, it doesn’t matter. Mi casa no es su casa.”

[dillcns-blog]

( ha-harley )

“My devices are fine, m’kay?” The words slipped out of her mouth almost incoherently, and Harley closed her eyes momentarily in order to process the situation.  Intoxication weighed heavily on her thoughts and everything sounded like speaking in tongues.  There was however, one word that was entirely recognisable to her: toast. “Toast,” she tested the word in her mouth.  “Yep.”  It was decided.  Using the wall as some kind of leverage, Harley pushed upwards and staggered to stand. “Le’s go.”

Dillon peered at the girl next to her as though she were insane - were they hearing two different things? Were the words that exited Harley’s mouth eloquent, perfect Queen’s English? The brunette certainly didn’t think so, and stood up far quicker than the intoxicated one did. “Okay, you need to sit your ass down, preferably on somewhere that isn’t high, and I’ll make you some tea and toast.” Places like countertops would have been her worst nightmare right about now; going to the hospital because Harley cracked her skull open at two o’clock in the morning was not on the agenda.

[dillcns-blog]

( winnicm )

“I was hoping so, yeah. But since you’ve already made yourself comfortable, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I mean, bother you more,” she shrugged, a glum expression befalling her. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Can I make up for it somehow? I make a decent masseuse– well, if I’m on the right drugs,” she admitted. “But yeah, can I do ya anything?”

Feeling guilt wasn’t something that happened to Dillon. At least not to a point that she’d admit it. The five-lettered S word was one that was absent in her vocabulary, and she didn’t plan on saying it now. “You think I’m going to let you massage me?” Touching someone like that, it wasn’t for her. Nor was she particularly interested in being massaged when someone was off of their face. “Well if you’re on the ‘right drugs’ then how do I know you won’t mistake my back for like.. a plank of wood or something and go all Karate Kid on my ass?” They were genuine concerns for the girl - she didn’t feel like pulling the muscles that she so desperately needed. 

[dillcns-blog]

( gunnxrs )

“Oh, no, they didn’t hire me to be pretty - that’s why I work behind the scenes,” he answered. He was joking, of course - he didn’t think he looked bad at all, but he wasn’t headlining the bands in the first place. “Who said that’s what I wanted to do? Shit, you could have told me your favorite pizza topping and we could have called this a day.” Gunner didn’t need the deep, dark secrets he knew he couldn’t handle. But it was the small things that said a lot about a person, anyways, and he didn’t see the big deal with something so minuscule as her favorite album or the pet she’d like to have.

“Well then what does that say about me, if I work behind the scenes too?” Dillon challenged. He couldn’t be suggesting that she wasn’t the Glamazon everyone quite frankly knew she was; okay, so she wasn’t beautiful in the way that Talia was. Yet it didn’t mean that she was unattractive, just that the pair were different. Clearly he didn’t have a consistent taste in women. “I don’t see why it matters? Why do you care if I prefer one thing over another or not; it’s all just so redundant. I mean at the end of the day, when I’m thirty I probably won’t even remember your name, and you won’t remember mine. Why care about all of this now? You know that everything is temporary.”

[dillcns-blog]

( gunnxrs )

“Oh yeah, that’s why most people keep me around,” he joked. Everyone who worked for the tour got as much merch as they wanted, and Gunner himself was basically drowning in it, from prototypes to discontinued designs to “damaged” returns. “I know it’s not; I didn’t even ask a question,” he answered with a grin. Gunner knew he and Dillon weren’t the closest in any way but intimate, but he was still curious about who she was beneath the snark.

“Well what did you expect it to be, your dashing good looks?” Dillon laughed, though she considered after that it could have been misunderstood as though she was laughing at him which was rarely the case. The brunette definitely wouldn’t laugh at him to his face, at least. “I don’t do games and all touchy-feely-deep-dark-secrets shit Gunner.” It wasn’t for her; the mere prospect was sickening almost. Who had the time?

[dillcns-blog]

( winnicm )

“I was trying to amp up the place..” The words flew out of her as though she was upset by how oblivious Dillon was to her intentions. “I mean, for a house full of talented musicians, it gets disappointingly quiet, don’t you think?” Winnie asked, turning down the volume a bit more before joining the other on the couch. “Look, there’s only so many pictures I can take of people being lazy, mostly sleeping, before it starts to get creepy. I just need everyone to, you know, act alive !”

“You’re saying this, and I feel like you’re expecting some type of sympathy.” It wasn’t as though Winnie was wrong in what she was saying; the house was like a graveyard most nights - people often went out to drown their sorrows, not doing it on the communal kitchen floor, even if it occasionally felt that way with the copious rounds of pre-drinks. “Do they have to act alive right now though? As in right this minute?” 

[dillcns-blog]

Vinyl Fever, Clay Rossner | Tumblr

[dillcns-blog]

[dillcns-blog]

( gunnxrs )

“And what are the other reasons?” he asked with a grin. Dillon, for as much as she may judge him for working, was pretty good at reminding Gunner that everything wasn’t just about work. She helped him relieve his stress, and as bad as he felt for thinking it, what they had going on made Talia turn her head, and maybe that attention he would get from his ex was better than nothing at all for now. “Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you, I’m curious,” and seriously, he was. Gunner was interested in knowing Dillon, but it was more on a friendship level than a romantic one.

“Free merchandise.” It wasn’t though it was a total lie; she did like free merchandise. Of course, being a roadie, Dillon received it anyway, but the ability to have even a smidgen of a say in what she got to wear was enough of a reason to keep him around. “This isn’t twenty questions, we’re not in high school.” He would have to do a lot more than sleep with her if he wanted to reach that level of friendship, unlock that level of Dillon that was nestled beneath a million walls and six layers of skin. 

[dillcns-blog]

21

(Dare) Text [the most recent person you slept with] asking them for a repeat.

Given that the most recent person she had slept with had been Gunner, it was no big deal that she would have to text him again tonight. "Hey, your wish is my command.” The brunette loved to please a crowd, and swiftly texted the blonde she had been twisted beneath only hours earlier. “Repeat of this morning later?” There was no need to text, she knew that it was inevitable they’d wind back up together at some point this week, but if it was sooner rather than later then who was she to complain?