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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Smashing Pumpkins

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Post-Elation Devastation
By Pizzazz

 

Post-Elation Devastation Original Publish date: 02-07-02

 

 

Note: I got inspired for this fic while reading one of Tristessa Zero's Jane's Addiction fan fics. I was going to write a very short sketch about the elation of being onstage and contrast it sharply with the major let down of the moments after the show, but it turned out longer than I expected. Please read and review! Thanks. :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lights, camera, action, electricity.

 

Haha, try if you want to. You just try and make me sad right now.

 

She smiles her dark smile, sweeping her 'scary' gaze across the crowd from left to right and back again. She sometimes meets the avid gazes of adoring fans, the ones who bother to focus on her?and that's quite a few, really. Billy is not the only rock god in this band. James is not the only musician. Jimmy is not the only source of raw power. There is her, also. Always her.

 

She is the 'darkly eloquent nightmare', the 'frightening', 'evil' one. She is blasting the audience's minds to oblivion right now. She is tall, slender, an ice queen dressed in black and silver, shining with make-up and divinity. The bass line underpins it all, you see. It holds everything together. Without bass, this sound would be a mere Billy dream, never fulfilled. Without bass, this song would sound like shit.

 

She smiles, she laughs, she runs nimble fingers along her bass without really thinking. The one thing she actually knows is that she can barely see ahead of her, thanks to the spotlights she is drowning in. They make her white, like a ghost. She blinks, realising that if they are taping this show, she will look like a ghostly owl on playback. She smiles shakily, wanting to look less like an owl for just one moment, and more like...

 

No...D'Arcy doesn't smile that much. She shouldn't be smiling if she wants to look like herself. She should just turn her face up into the light, pretend that she's standing at the gates of heaven, and play. Play, play, play, as if her life depended on it. Perhaps it does.

 

Billy looks like a lost little boy. A six-foot-four lost little boy. That's how he wants to look. He is turning his face up to the light. Perhaps it isn't her place to do the same. For this song, 'Soma', the light is all blue. The stage went dark before those blue lights kicked in. Billy is bathed in blue darkness, while she is off to the side of stage, hidden in the shadows. That isn't because she's 'just the bass player'. It is for theatrical effect. Billy is the centre of it all for this song. The lights make him blue, and then the main spotlight blinks on, and he is all white, illuminated, delineated in all his celestial glory. He looks like an angel to her. She feels dizzy, but she never once messes up her bass line.

 

Soon she is finding it hard to breathe as she stares out over the ocean of fans, screaming, singing, waving, swaying fans, all staring straight at her, turning their faces to Billy, back to her, to James, craning necks to try and catch a better glimpse of Jimmy, and then glancing back at her again. She looks away. It's 'me-time' now. They've had enough of her attention. She holds them all in her thrall, grinding away at her bass guitar, thrilling at the feeling of power at her fingertips, the power she gets from driving that bass line home. Right now she is driving it through the middle of 'Zero'. Just try and bring me down from here, she murmurs inwardly, nodding gracefully to the crowd before swinging one booted leg out in front of her and bending the other at the knee, holding a 'cool' pose for the span of ten seconds. Then she straightens again, bending over her bass, smiling secretly to herself. This is a magical night.

 

Encore swings around with surprising rapidity. The band doesn't even go off stage. Well, she doesn't. Maybe the other three do, without her realising it. She just huddles there in the curtains at the side of the stage, hunching her shoulders in anticipation, hearing the roar of the crowd. She blinks stupidly down at the new bass that has been placed in her hands. Better put this on.

 

They are on stage again, and she knows that the crowd loves her, all of them. They paid to come here. They paid to see her, to see all four of them together. We are cool. We are so cool. We're the ones they love. We inspire them, and I'm a part of that. No one can take that away from me. She smiles her grim smile as the arena suddenly sinks into the bass solo of 'Silverfuck'. She can hear the screaming of the crowd better now. Not just screaming. Whistling, humming, electricity, buzzing, moaning, singing, all of it... They are loving her for this. She is giving them what they want, the bass, just the bass, this is her moment to shine, and then Billy starts to sing, and she feels a momentary tearing at her heart, for their attention is on him now, on him, all him, him him him...

 

A tear leaks down her cheek as she continues to play. The song powers up again, and her fingers take on a life of their own, running up and down the frets, making their own powerful tune. She is really mastering it this time; she is the lord of this bass line. She hasn't slipped up once in this song, and only a few times this whole night. She is feeling quite like a goddess, and she knows that she is one, because they love her, they love her so much and they want to be her.

 

She notices then that her fingers are no longer moving. She sees Billy walk across stage and past her, towards the side of the stage. There is no sound but the crowd, the huge roaring cries of the crowd begging her for more, for her to start playing again. But the show is over, she realises, and it's time to leave. If she dared start another song, Billy would kill her. They are probably all tired, totally fucked and ready for bed, or at least a long hard drink before bed. They don't understand that she needs this. She needs to be here longer. Once she leaves this stage, she is dead. Why don't they understand that?

 

"D'Arce." The voice is gentle and soft, as soft as the touch she feels on her hand. She starts and looks to the side. There is Jimmy, smiling slightly, holding her hand, pulling her gently from the stage. Her ears are ringing, but she wasn't sure if it was from the playing or just from the crowd roaring. That roar is suddenly sucked into a vacuum as she walks between the folds of side-stage curtain, or is lead at least. She passes between folds of black curtain and the roar is muted suddenly. She is separated from the crowd now, heading down into the corridor that leads to 'back stage'. She doesn't let go of Jimmy's hand, but she doesn't hold onto it either. She just lets herself be lead, lead like a child.

 

The 'back stage' area. They are all here. All four members of one of the greatest bands on earth. Billy would say 'the greatest band on earth'. He is like that. She just settles for 'one of the greatest', as that is usually good enough for her. She did feel like the best when she was out there, though, out onstage. It never lasted long enough.

 

They stand around, staring at each other, at the floor or the table top, and even at their hands. She stares at the wall for a while, and then allows her gaze to slide sideways, meeting Billy's, then James's, then Jimmy's.

 

"That was..."

 

"Good."

 

Jimmy starts it, and James finishes. Now Billy raises his eyebrows and murmurs, "It was fucking awesome. D'Arce..." He just stares at her, his lips parted slightly, shaking his head. "You..."

 

I was good, wasn't I? she thinks, knowing that this is the time to smile. She not only blew the fans away, she blew the fuck out of these guys, her band-mates, too. They are staring at her in amazement, she is sure it isn't just her imagination. She knows she should be smiling right now, for she has triumphed in the most awesome, loud way. She outstripped them all tonight.

 

"You were..."

 

He doesn't get to finish the sentence, for she suddenly feels her face crumpling, and she is raising shaking hands into the air in front of her, opening her mouth, loosing a wail of anguish so heart-wrenching that she sees one of the others wince. She wails, and presses hands against her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound and the pain. Tears stream down her face as she sinks into the nearest chair, dimly aware of one of the others sitting next to her, putting an arm around her, awkwardly trying to comfort her over something that can never be fixed, can never be healed.

 

Out there onstage she is D'Arcy, ice queen of the stage, teaser of crowds, sultry bass player and enigmatic introvert. Out there, she is what they all loved and craved. But in here, in back where no one can see, she is just a girl; a hopeless, useless girl that nobody wants. Even the momentary bouts of onstage time are never enough to fill the void within her. She doesn't know how to exist like this anymore.

 

She isn't sure who she is supposed to be back here, or how she is supposed to stay happy so far away from the stage.

 

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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