#80s rock stars

[guns-n-jovi]

Slash, ca. 1985.

He's so pretty I want to cry. 😭

[dammm1256]

Them forever (+ME) ❤️

I love them sm

[imtooyoungtokeepgoodlove]

Real

[80sheaven]

Billy Idol, Star Hits poster (1980s)

More Billy Idol in the 80s

[rocknrolltrailertrash]

☆The Place Between Heaven And Hell☆

[automatonknight]

let's roll up to be a single star in the sky

[grungeprincess2]

Don't be a groupie

Be the Rockstar

[calpalpol]

I love their early photos sm

[mycollectionmylife]

Axl, Duff e Slash 🎤🎩🎸🔫🌹🤘

[jarofalicesgrunge]

Layne Staley

[cbrownjc]

Theory: Lestat is asleep in the Dubai Penthouse.

So I want to put this theory out before EP7 airs. I am nowhere close to 100% about it (barely even 50%), but I want to post it just in case I’m correct.

Since EP5, my belief has been that the 2022 part of the story takes place “during” Merrick. It doesn’t match Merrick 1-to-1, of course. But there are significant story points that match, particularly when it comes to Claudia’s diaries playing a significant role in the story and Louis attempting to end his un-life. 

And where was Lestat during Merrick? Asleep. Basically, in a coma. A coma he’d been in since right after book 5, Memnoch the Devil. 

In the books, Lestat went through basically three comas in his vampire life. (That I know of/remember. I don’t know if he goes through one in the Prince Lestat trilogy yet, since I just started it.) And I think the show has taken two of those comas and made them into one: the pre-Vampire Lestat coma and the post-Memnoch coma. 

This works because the timeline for everything in the show is shorter than it was in the books because of the aging up of Lestat before the events of Interview with the Vampire happen. (He’s 150 in vampire years in the show instead of just 10 as in the book.) During the time period the show is at by EP6, the middle to the end of the 1930s, Lestat was at the start of his second coma sleep in the books. 

And we already know from Claudia’s diaries in EP4 that she and Louis don’t get to Paris until 1945, after WWII is over and Paris was already liberated.  

That second coma sleep of Lestat’s lasted 55 years. And, gee, how long has it been since Louis gave that first interview to Daniel in 1973? 49 years now. 50 years exactly when S2 starts (assuming S2 comes out at the end of 2023.)

My theory? Lestat went to sleep sometime in 1967 or 1968. (Which, US history-wise, 1968 was a hell of a year. In the books, he went to sleep in 1929, the year of the Crash and the start of the Great Depression. Which was a fitting parallel.) 

If it was 1967, that would make it exactly 55 years since he was asleep by 2022, which is the year the show takes place in right now. 

Now, I couldn’t guess where Lestat might have started his over half a century of sleep. But I do think, at some point, his body was moved. And the place it was moved to was Dubai. Into the penthouse where Louis is living and now giving his do-over interview with Daniel. 

And Louis is now watching over him, as he was in Merrick when Lestat was in his post-Memnoch coma. I believe that part of Louis’ resting in EP4 was him also spending time with Lestat’s sleeping body, reading to him and such, as he did with Lestat's sleeping body in Merrick.

So, if this theory is correct, one of the final shots of EP7 will be the reveal of Lestat being asleep in another room in the Dubai penthouse.     

Rashid said Louis’ book isn’t just a warning to humanity but a lengthy suicide note. And I think it is a suicide note specifically for Lestat, for whenever Louis hopes Lestat wakes up. 

Just like the suicide note Louis left for the sleeping Lestat in Merrick.   

[guns-n-jovi]

Mercy On Me

Jon Bon Jovi x Fem!Reader

Request: so jon has taken the reader to the studio where the band are writing and recording, and he cant get this song the way he wants it and gets really frustrated. the reader tries to talk to him, get him to take break, ect, and he gets pretty mad and blows up at her. (not that i think darling jon would actually do this) angsty w a fluffy ending if you could!

Submitted by: @risingtripletaurus

Notes: This was a great idea that I really liked! As with my other fanfic- it is possible that I might have strayed a little from the exact prompt in a few areas. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Yelling, crying, anger, mentions of breakup

Word count: 2,160

It was no trouble at all for me to pick up lunch for the guys, when they were too busy at the recording studio to leave there themselves. In fact, I enjoyed it; I was glad I could be a help to Jon and the other band members- my close friends. 

Now, today, I was walking carefully through the parking lot and towards the door of the studio with hot, delicious-smelling boxes of pizza in my arms. I couldn’t help inhaling deeply over and over again. My mouth was watering, and I hoped they’d share it with me (after all, who had paid for it? Who had driven to the middle of town to get it? Who had brought it to them? Exactly.) 

But it was no trouble- no trouble at all. I chuckled at myself, shifting the pizza boxes as gently as I could, freeing my hand. My hand opened, and took firm hold of the door handle, giving it a hard yank before walking down the hall. As I headed down the hall, I stopped momentarily. I had stopped to listen for the normal sounds echoing through the studio- the muffled wail of Jon’s voice, the shredding chords of Richie’s electric guitar, or the hard beats of Tico’s drums. The sound I heard was a different one. It was the sound of loud, fiery yelling. I listened for the shouting to be followed by a chuckle, signaling to me that the band members were only playfully bickering, as they usually did. But I heard Richie’s voice, distinctly, combatting the yelling. I frowned in concern. On sudden instinct, I hurried forward. I once again shifted the pizza boxes in my arms and opened the door, as quietly as I could. 

Richie turned. He looked relieved to see me. I observed the scene quickly. As if theatrically posed, Richie was standing facing Jon, who was alone. The other band members were behind Richie, their arms crossed over their chests, and hands planted on their hips. Their body language and facial expressions told me they weren’t happy, and I could tell Jon was not happy. His face was red with anger, and it had a sick look on it, as if he were annoyed, frustrated, angry and nauseated all at once. The others looked relieved to see me. 

While Alec stepped to me and took the boxes, giving me a grateful smile, I looked around at all of their faces. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked. 

David sighed. “Y/N, will you tell your man to take a chill pill? He’s about to blow.”

I looked at Jon. “Jon, what’s the matter, baby?” I asked, softly. 

Desperately, Jon ran his hands through his wavy, golden-brown hair. “I’m trying to work on this song,” his voice was strained. “And I just- I can’t seem to get it right!” 

I frowned in worry. “What seems to be the problem? Why can’t you get it?”

Jon flopped down hard in a nearby chair, sitting uncomfortably in a slouched, unbended position. He ran his hands over his face. 

“It’s too low,” he said. “I just- I try to sing it! I keep trying, and trying. But my voice cracks. Every time.”

He winced, gingerly touching his neck. “I’ve been trying all morning. My throat is getting sore.” 

“Jon,” Richie said, tightly. “You need to take a break.”

“Yeah! Yeah,” Tico agreed, smacking his hands and rubbing them together. “Let’s get into this pizza before it gets cold!” 

As the others opened the red-colored cardboard boxes, I looked at Jon in worry. He had never struggled before in anything: writing the lyrics, singing them- it had all come easily for him. I was worried. 

Jon was too disturbed to even eat. He looked at the piece of pizza he’d selected, then grimaced, then sighed hopelessly. He repeated this three or four times before he rose to his feet and said, loudly, “No, wait. Hang on. We’re going to try something.”

David looked up, his cheeks stuffed full of pizza. “Now?!” he asked. 

“Yes! Now!” Jon clapped. “Up! Let’s try this right now.”

The rest of the band members gave him blank stares. “Um….Jon, we’re EATING.”

He gestured to the open pizza boxes on the floor, in the center of their circle. 

“C’mon!” Jon cried. “Let’s do this now! Come on!”

Richie leaned back on his hands, as if he had no intentions of leaving it at all. “No!” he argued. 

“Jon! You are being unreasonable!” Tico protested.

“We’re what- two weeks overschedule now? Maybe more? I don’t have time to sit around. I think I can try it again- yes, I think I can.”

He nodded, as if to reassure himself. “So let’s get going.”

“You’re not even gonna let us finish our pizza?” Alec asked, pitifully. 

Jon huffed. “Let me do this right now while I think I can!”

David nudged me. I could tell he wanted me to interject. Uncomfortably, but clearly, I spoke up. 

“Jon, sit down and eat,” I coaxed. “This can wait!”

Jon’s blue eyes flared. My heart sank, and I felt a twinge of fear. I had never been afraid of Jon before, but now, the look in his back sent a shiver down my spine. 

“Cannot!” he retorted. “Not that you’d understand. You obviously don’t know a single thing about making music.”

I felt myself blush. Richie frowned at Jon. 

“I’m just trying to help you!” I said, not loudly. “Obviously you’re very stressed. I just want you to feel better!”

“Jon,” Richie gritted his teeth. “Sit down and relax.” 

Jon’s eyes were lingering on me. “Did I ask for your help, Y/N? I don’t need your help!” 

I blinked. I was frightened, hurt and angered, but all I could do was stare, in shock. 

“Don’t talk to me like that!” I blurted. “I may be your wife, Jon, but I will not let you talk to me that way!” 

I seemed to have his attention, so I continued, “I know you’re stressed, Jon, and I-”

“What do you mean you know I’m stressed? You don’t know nothin’!” 

“Jon!” Richie cried, loudly. “Enough!”

I felt tears begin to sting the backs of my eyes. A lump hardened in my throat. 

“I will not just let you talk to me like that,” I said, in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Then you can leave!” Jon snapped. His voice was so loud it instantly split my ears. “Go home, Y/N! See if I care! But this is MY record, MY band, and we’re gonna do things the way I think they should be done!” 

His outburst was so loud my ears physically hurt. But I quickly forgot that as tears ran over the edges of my eyes and down my cheeks. Choking, I turned, hurrying for the door. Now, the whole room was in silence. I knew the band members were giving Jon cautious, warning glances, but Jon stood smoldering behind. 

Crying, because I felt my heart had broken, I stumbled out the door and to my car. Without looking back once, I drove off. 

Once home, my mind started to whirl quickly in a cyclone of emotions. Anger, fear, shock- they all swarmed me, all at once. All I could do was cry. Tears streamed down my face, one after another, and my throat ached as I unashamedly let them all flow. I was never normally this sensitive, but Jon had never been angry at me before. He’d only spoken softly to me and lovingly to me. Now that he was angry, I found myself panicked. 

Already, I worried about or possible (however, unlikely) breakup, and if a rift had been torn that we could not mend. While it had only been one argument, it was a brutal one- one that rendered me unable to do anything but sob. In addition, I was angry that I’d been spoken to in such a way. I was certain, in my overthinking, overworking mind, that my relationship with Jon might never be restored. I panicked again when I thought of that. So I had to confront him about it so we could be friends again. So we could speak tenderly to one another and love each other in the perfect, sweet bliss that we had before. Already, the fight had seemed to destroy a lot of that. 

I left the studio at two, and Jon didn’t come home until seven. I worked every second of those five hours in between trying to figure out just what to say to Jon. Even when he did come home, all that time later, I still was not certain of what I should say. But I heard the front door open, and him come in, singing quietly under his breath. 

“Y/N!” he called. “I’m home, darlin’!”

Hearing his voice weakened me again. It tempted me to cry again. The last time I’d heard that voice, it had been loudly yelling at me, hot with anger. I swallowed hard, walking in to see Jon in the living room. 

“Hi,” I managed, quietly. 

As Jon moved from the doorway, he smiled and kissed my cheek gently. I frowned in confusion. Was he just going to act like the fight never happened? Would it ever be addressed? I hoped it wouldn’t. It was a terrible thing, and I did not want it to be evoked. Still, trying to act withdrawn, I kept my mouth shut and quietly followed along behind Jon. 

“I finally got that one note,” he said, then chuckled. “Well, sort of. I ended up having to let Richie do it with me. Although, he didn’t do much better. Heck, his voice is higher than mine, after all.”

Jon ran his hand through his wavy, voluminous hair, smiling to himself. Then, he looked at me. The moment his blue eyes met mine, I felt the dam begin to break. I felt more tears start to come. And they did- seemingly by the gallons, they poured out of my eyes. Sputtering, I covered my face and tried to control it. 

“Y/N,” Jon said, softly. There was more compassion in his voice then than there ever had been before. 

I felt his arms close around me, and he brought me close against his chest. I was too weakened to resist- I let myself melt into his arms. Although he was the reason my feelings were so hurt, I still let myself close my eyes into the softness of his blue hoodie. The tears created dark smudges on his shoulder. His large hands gently caressed down the back of my hair, before patting just below where my layers cut off. I let myself cry for a moment- and it felt so good. But then, I straightened, and struggled free of his hold on me. 

“Don’t worry,” I sniffed, rubbing my eyes. “I’m fine.”

Jon shook his head. He had a sorry expression on his face. 

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “And I’m to blame. The way I treated you in front of the guys was not acceptable at all.”

He leaned in closer to my face, so he could see my red-rimmed eyes. “Was it?”

Rubbing my nose mercilessly, I shook my head.

“And I need you to know that I’m sorry,” he said. “More sorry about this than I have ever been about anything before. I’ve always thought the worst thing I could do was hurt you. And I did that, didn’t I?”

I nodded. “Jon, it’s fine. You were just stressed out.”

“No,” Jon shook his head, firmly. “No. No excuse whatsoever. I was stressed, I was upset- but that is no excuse for me to talk to terribly to you, Y/N.”

He smiled, his hand gently stroking my damp cheeks. “The most beautiful, smartest, sweetest woman in the whole world.”

I couldn’t help grinning. Already, I was feeling better. 

“Once again,” Jon cleared his throat, and resumed seriously, “I apologize. Will you forgive me, Y/N?”

He chuckled. “Will you have mercy on me?”

I giggled. “Of course, I will. I know you were just upset. I know you would never do that, actually. You’re a sweet guy, Jon. I know you’re better than that.”

A look of relief came onto Jon’s face. He allowed himself to smile wider. 

“Alright,” he said. He suddenly touched my cheeks and brought my face to his. We kissed, our lips melting into each other’s. I let my hands land at his sides. His entire top half was soft from the warmth of his fluffy, blue hoodie. 

“I love you,” he gave me one more kiss. “So much.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. “I love you more.”

As I turned to walk off, after giving his arm a gentle pat, he called, “Hey, Y/N?”

I looked back. “Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you,” he grinned. “For having mercy on me…..”

[shilohsversion]

"Life sucks, but in a beautiful kind of way"

[imtooyoungtokeepgoodlove]

Me all day everyday

[80sheaven]

Billy Idol “To Be A Lover” poster advert from Smash Hits Sept 1986.

[rocknrolltrailertrash]

☆Palm Trees And Big Sprees☆