The Red C A R P E T `

[KoZTA]

Promise I'll be kind
But I won't stop until that boy is mine
Baby you'll be famous
Chase you down until you love me
Papa-Paparazzi
• • • • • •

A golden essence casts from the setting sun, lighting up the red carpet in all of its glory. Glittering diamons and flowing gowns, men presenting their women like trophies. Everyone is dressed to impress, or to make a statement.

Cameras flash as the press creates their own moshpit of overwhelming questions and the desire to catch just one slip up.

The temperature is comfortable, about 75 degrees and slowly falling as it gets later and later. That's when it hits you, as you look around, seeing so many other successful faces.

You made it.
You're at the Grammy Awards.

• • • • • •
I'll be your girl
backstage at your show
Velvet ropes and guitars
Yeah, cause your my rockstar
in between the sets
Eyeliner and cigarettes.

[FREDDIE CLAUSE]

Freddie was as giddy as a school girl when it came to awards shows. It was always a good oppurtunity to really mess with people and make fun of them - on a very broad, public range. Before he was supposed to host, he was supposed to pull people aside, chatting with them casually. He looked to the camera, microphone in hand, "Hey kiddies, Freddie Clause here, your host for the 2009 Grammy Awards. I'm looking around and waiting for people to show up, but until then, I'm just going to tell you what I expect from each and every person, just based off of past appearances."

He situated himself lightly before rambling off. "I expect the normal from some of the older bands, but today we have some fresh faces emerging. For example, Queens of Confession - the power house all girl metal band. I have a feeling they're going to give the guys a run for their money, and who knows we might just see a fight! We also have the members of Who Killed Marilyn - frontman Lars Trell is infamous for getting a little wild sometimes. I can't say whether or not he'll have a date, because he keeps relationships about as well as spider after breeding." Take the ass and run the fuck away as quick as you can!

"Now, Zadyr Harris is also in Who Killed Marilyn, but rumor mill runs that he got his ass kicked by Bryan Ambrose at a bar. I guess he can go hang out with Rhianna and they can share stories on their bruises. The band also lost their key player, so I can no longer say that Lars is a cradle robber."

[`Holland Petrov]

Holly made her way down the red carpet, thankfully not as she had anticipated a week ago - alone. No she had managed to get herself a 'date' but that wasn't her biggest worry right then. Right then it was the thousand cameras pointing to the big R.C, which also meant she was stopped on several occasions as she was asked about her outfit - and her date - though she tended to only discuss her dress for now. "It's by designer Oscar de la Renta. I love it." she was saying and smiling. She especially loved talking about her shoes. God, she loved Iron Fist. "Yeah, they're by Iron Fist clothing. The clutch purse is by Alexander McQueen." she was saying and nodding as the watched the man with the camera very briefly. God she was nervous. More so for the questions they would ask.

She managed her way slightly further down the red carpet before being accosted again. Stopping to pose for photographs, holding on to her date since even with as much confidence as she has it still overwhelmed her. Again, after some more photos, one of which was Holly sticking her tongue out at the camera she returned to answering questions on her dress. Telling the rest of the journalists who designed it and how much she loved that and her shoes. Though she was slightly more nervous when she encountered Freddy, answering the questions he asked though avoiding giving too much away outside of her outfit.

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[Ezekiel Fabrizio]

Zeke for once, wasn't walking the carpet by himself. Instead, he was accompanied by a date. She was rattling off designer brands, but Zeke didn't engage in such talk. He was more than happy to let Holland take the lime light, she deserved it in his mind.

It was a nice change in pace, being able to actually attend an event with someone - who wasn't regularly in his small stash of close friends or any of that. No. He'd gotten himself here, and for once he wasn't kicking himself in the ass. Or maybe he had and he just didn't realize it yet. Now that he thought about it, he was really subjecting himself to all sorts of fucking gossip. Great. Just what he wanted.

He shook the pessimism off, instead he enjoyed the present while it was lasting. It was a beautiful evening with plenty of activity... not meant in the dirty way of course. The more he let himself think, the dirtier his thoughts got. Not on purpose, but they just kind of happened and Zeke couldn't seem to stop them. Hell, maybe the quiet ones were the ones you had to watch out for.

When the lighter mood began striking him, his face went from completely stern, to a more enjoyable sight with a mild smile. Perhaps the good mood from everyone else had been rubbing off on him, because he seemed to be catching it like the swine flu. Oh great, what if he caught the swine flu? Guessing his thoughts were a little ridiculous, he came to the fact that he'd lived too long inside of his own head.

[Cecelia Ambro$e]

Leather. Mesh. Fishnet. Buckles. Bright Colors. Carefully applied makeup. She was set for the night. Cece was one of those risktakers, putting items together in a cornocopia. Usually, it worked for her, though it didn't always. Tonight, her main ensemble included various textures, all based off of black and pink, bright pink at that. She was alone tonight, like she usually was. Hell, she could never find anyone to keep up with her very sociable self. Holland had a date. The singer always gets a date thought, right? Oh well.

She felt good in the form fitting clothes, just walking like her regular bad ass self along a roll of thick red fiber. In a rare event, she'd straightened her hair, and styled it to be in it's most sleek form. It was pin straight, cascading down over her shoulders. One hot pink extension was added in for good measure. When she did it, she did it right.

Never one to be weighted down by millions of dollars in jewelry, she went light with a couple of rings and a bike chain bracelet. Every now and again it'd pinch the hell out of her, though mainly when she was trying to put it on or take it off. It obviously did not bother her that much.

[zadyr]

Today was going to suck if the blue haired youth couldn't find a way to keep his mood on the high end and not let his temper or mouth get the best of him. Sure he could look just as stunning as he always could, but Freddy was going to be there. And that man scared and intimidated the hell out of him, which meant he was going to have great difficulty maintaining his flirty and fun attitude he usually put on for events like this. Awesome. Fun times. Shifting uncomfortably, he had to admit he was nervous as he made his way to the event, but he wouldn't express it out loud in any form noticeable. Adjusting his shirt and jacket, the young bassist put on his trademark flirty smirk and made his way down the red carpet. His pace was almost strained, not only did he come alone, but he also was anxious and highly uncomfortable. This wasn't like him and he was feeling almost sick to his stomach. Maybe he should have practiced this first? No, that would have made it worse in the end.

His attention was caught by a couple photographers as he 'struck a pose' and smiled for their pictures. The flashes of lights giving him a headache and he hoped his makeup wasn't running. Oh god, did he look okay? He didn't check himself in a mirror before he walked out, what if their smiles were secretly mocking and he was being laughed at behind his back? Swallowing hard he tried to think happy thoughts as he answered the usual mundane questions about his hair and his outfit and all those other questions he never needed second thought to reply. 'Why did you chose to come alone, Zadyr?' Someone asked. Zadyr Harris froze, pausing and looking over at the charming young reporter that had asked him, knowing that she was still impatiently waiting for an answer. ”Well... to be honest,” he paused and gave a flash of a smirk like grin, ”I didn't want my date to look better than me.” He caught himself smoothly, and laughed lightly before ignoring the flood of even more questions and continuing to walk down the very intimidating red carpet beneath him. You know, the huge long rug that all the cool people walk down.

WORD COUNT:[/b] 387
MUSIC:[/b] Pokerface - Lady Gaga
NOTES:[/b] haha, Zadyr's such a girl.
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[elLIE]

I'M ON MY WAY DOWN NOW,

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I'd love to take you with me. [/i][/size][/font] [/center]

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Lars loved award ceremonies. Or the famous persona in him adored them. Lars himself would like to say he was an introvert... generally, but when people who don't like to be scared go into horror houses just the same now don't they? He'd done it quite a few times in the last couple of years in the band's career, but ntohing as big as the grammies. It was simple really... considering he dared not care what was going to be written about him the next day, he might as well give them something to write about! And all he had to do to give them a little entertainment was never take himself seriously at these things. Lars figured his only job now besides making life chaning music was to keep chaos, unconvensionalism and rebellion; punk if you will, alive.

So how does one accomplish this exactly? Granted, Lars was no Marilyn Manson and had no intention in that extreem of shock factor, the shock factor that's taken themselves much too seriously that is. So Lars simply decided to break out his red skinny jeans, white dress shirt, skull&cross-bone suspenders, leather blazer, Sex Pot zipper and chained tie, his geek glasses, and of course, Doc Martens. Of course the punk geek look couldn't be complete without piercings and red eyeliner to the bottom of his eyes. His shirt was untcuked messily around the clamped suspenders, his blazer unbuttoned. Lars's dark and longish hair had been tousled (with the help of his date of course) and jelled into a neatish looking bedhead, remniscent of Johnny Depp look. From description it seems as if he had just come out of an insane ward, but the man truly pulled it off in the way he intentioned it to.

Lars wasn't one to take the limos, it just wasn't his thing. Not when he had money, and in all honesty money buys cars, expensive cars. Cars like the Dogde Viper SRT 10. Not his ultimate favorite in his growing collection, but good enough he supposed. The long decision on either a sports car or a antique was the hardest part after all.

After being fashionably late, Lars pulled up to the street where a vallet driver was already waiting. Lars got out of the car neatly as reporters stuck mics into his face as camera lights lit it up. He kept a apathetic face on as he walked briskly around the front of the car, opening the opposite door, then holding his hand out for his date, just because he wanted to keep punk alive never meant he was mannerless.

"Ready?" he asked Riley with a small grin as they were both off, his full dashing smile planted on his face for the cameras.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I've been to black and back...

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I'VE WHITED OUT MY NAME.
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001. COUNT 452
002. MUSIC Minute of Decay, Marilyn Manson
003. NOTES woooo! grammies finally :o]!
004. ATTIRE x

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[Riley Newark]

It was a flashback to the 50's as Riley stepped from the car - well, sort of. She had done it more or less to mock Lars, but he didn't need to know that did he? Well she'd let him continue to be oblivious to the fact. As normal, she would stay silent for most of the night. She was accustomed to being behind the barrier, and not infront of merciless lights and thoughtless question and answer sessions. The spotlight wasn't for her, but she would fake the part very well.

Oh what a gentleman he was portraying for the cameras. Wordlessly, she took his hand, stepping out from the car. Riley knew one thing for certain, the bastard had a speeding problem. The more she glared at him, the more he seemed to want to go faster. Atleast they had arrived in one peice. Riley was more or less looking forward to the after party. Obnoxious people getting drunk together, getting even more obnoxious, it was always a good time.

Unfortunately all would be subjected to listening to a few hours of corny, planned out, pre written jokes. Oh well, she still managed to get out of working, so that was more than a fair trade.

A smile played on her lips, as endless flashes rang and film kept rolling. No, she was simply there to make Lars look less lame than he already was - or atleast that's what she told him in jest.

TAG] Lars .
MUSIC] --
ATTIRE] See above, betch.

[cera]

Cera was probably the last one of the Queens of Confessions to arrive, and just her luck, she was following Taylor Swift down the red carpet. What fun. It was her first major red carpet event and the people shouting 'over here!' and the constant flash of bright light was about to drive her insane, and she'd only just stepped out of the rented limo. Cera, like several others she knew, had come alone. Which was perfectly find with her. She looked better by herself most the time, though it would have been nice to have someone with her to say 'no questions' for her.

Instead, she casually walked down the carpet in her mini-dress, every now and then stopping, placing her hand on her hip and posing. She only answered a few questions, the ones she actually knew the answers to or cared to tell. The rest, she just pretended like she couldn't hear and moved on. Taylor Swift was getting more attention than her, but she had promised herself (and her father) that should wouldn't beat the hick just to get more attention. Besides, she was a drummer, not a singer. She was lucky people pronounced her name right. Or better yet, remembered who she was.

She kind of wished she had at least come with the rest of her band. She knew eventually all of them would be hoarded together for group pictures, but for now she was on her own, nervous as heck, and wishing she was playing a video game instead.

[Luke Smith]

Oh great, just what he needed to see. Riley and the fucktard together. Lovely. The further he walked down the carpet, the more he wanted a cigarette. Well, maybe a little controversy would entertain everyone. It took him mere minutes to catch up with the little couple, and thankfull he had a talent for speaking through his teeth. So he bore those pearly whites, and began to speak, "So I see that they'll let any jackass on the carpet these days, but they really stooped to a new low when they let you on."

Clearing his throat, he moved on. Oh yes, it made him feel a little better, and more or less because he had made it a bit more of a fact that he just didn't like the asshole, and he wasn't in favor that he was taking Riley down his path. He never spoke aloud about her anymore, he had pretty much given up trying to figure it out, and that's just what pissed him off about it the most. He'd done nothing to her, one day she was there, and the next she wasn't. The only thing that was any worse, is that he found out why - and not from her.

Sure he was bitter and hurt by it, but he figured she didn't much care about that, therefor he'd never tried to mend a relationship with her. He knew the truth deep down inside, but that's where he'd keep it. His own little secret. So instead of giving it all up, and letting her go, he instead focused his hatred on her new found interest. She hadn't had a particular interest since she'd come onboard - but now? Well, all is fair in love and war.

[elLIE]

I'M ON MY WAY DOWN NOW,

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I'd love to take you with me. [/i][/size][/font] [/center]

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Lars continued to parade around, his arm around Riley's waist as he bent over the little barriers to answer any press questions about his chosen attire and who exactly the lady friend was. Both questions he answered vaguely to nearly everyone. He had made his way in zigzags, finding plots of fans fortunate enough to get close to the red carpet zone behind the barrier, signing the usuals, giving smiles to the far less expensive cameras, saying many more 'thank you's than he had to when he was on the press side.

Lars didn't really care if Riley was here to, as she put it 'make him look less lame', or not. Because really, he didn't give two shits if he was seen as lame, which.. ultimately made him un-lame. But the fact that she cared for his social wellbeing touched him. Not really, but that's what he had responded while thy were getting ready. He wasn't an idiot... she had just been invited as VIP to THE Grammies. No one would turn that down, so no worries.

Taking a good look around Lars just had to smile a little bit, "Isn't it funny," he said putting his lips close to her ear so he wouldn't have to scream, "That everyone looks all elegant and evening gown-y, besides the tour people.. in the black mini-lace and the more expensive but Hot-Topic looking accessories?" he chuckled, his lips moving quickly as the kept walking on.

Lars was busy signing an ad-poster when he heard Luke's rued as fuck comment. His eyebrows furrowed as it finished, the small placid upturn in his mouth forming into a pout. His sharpie stopped moving and he looked up once with a lighter face at the young woman who had asked for the John Hancock. Luke hadn't gotten far enough to escape retaliation, though, and it only took Lars a few more initials and a few short pauses for camera with a pissed off face before he was near him again.

"Keep talking like that and you'll be the fucking carpet I walk on, motherfucker."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I've been to black and back...

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I'VE WHITED OUT MY NAME.
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001. COUNT 325
002. MUSIC Alkaline Trio
003. NOTES ahhellznaw.
004. ATTIRE x

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[Luke Smith]

Luke scoffed as Lars approached. Really, was he supposed to be terrified of this little shit head? Please. He barely had anything to him, besides the ego the size of an elephant and a bad attitude to double the con list. He turned, peering down slightly to said asshole, "I'd pay money to see that. Last time I checked, you're still signed to my tour - so you better watch your step. It's a small world, you never know what might come up in discussions with other labels." Was it blackmail? Absolutely. It was dirty and low, but sometimes that's just how you had to play the game. He didn't like it necesarrily, but fuck. What was he supposed to do?

He couldn't let it go that's for sure. Obviously. He wished he could. Oh how Luke wished he could. Somehow, he couldn't manage to get himself off of it. You know when something really pisses you off, and you hold a grudge? Well it was alot like that. Lucas didn't normally hold a grudge with anyone, it was live and let die. Forgive and forget. Though, this was entirely different in his point of view.

Admittedly, it was a little unfair to just hate Lars without a legitimate reason. Lars didn't know what he did. Did he? It made no difference to the pyrotechnician. His mind told him it didn't matter if he knew what he did or not, and that's how he coped with his concience. In reality, he knew it was shitty. He knew it made him look like a complete jack ass - but hell. It just felt good to hurt someone after having been hurt, even if they were just a byproduct of the actual issue.

"You're better off to step down before you wind up in a world of hurt both financially and physically." Was it illegal to threaten someone? Most deffinately. That didn't matter to him though. He could hire just as good of a lawyer as Lars could, so he welcomed the law suit. The difference between Trell and himself was simply that Luke had a steady job. He owned an entire corporation. He was a millionaire, and his career would always be steady, however a musicians success is measured mearly by his fanbase. Fans are only a byproduct of good advertising and reputations.