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RomanceClass Podcast Episode: The Rockstar Trope

Posted on February 28, 2021

RomanceClass Podcast is back with Season 4! Kicked off with the launch of The Tropetastic Kindness Bundle (available until April 14, 2021 here, all proceeds to charity!), and now with Episode 2: The Rockstar Trope. Alternate title: Why Are Rockstars??

Super cool to have been part of this panel because 1) I write about rockstars in romance, and 2) turns out it’s good to sit with the questions of why we are fascinated with these musician people and why and how we enjoy them, specially in our romance content.

Chatted with gig/music/writer friends Dawn Lanuza, Six de los Reyes, and Tara Frejas, with hosting by producer Mina V. Esguerra and direction from producer/the voice of god (lol) Tania Arpa.

The episode is up on RomanceClass Facebook, Twitter, and Youtube. A few of my things from the discussion here, plus some stuff that came to me after, which is how the brain works sometimes.

  • Origin story. Seeing friends and classmates picking up instruments, forming bands, and performing in high school and college. Seeing how funny and cool and awkward it could be, kids trying to work together to create synchronized output, mess and art. The band dynamics that come out of the exercise. Picking up a guitar myself, to which when asked if I play, I can only answer as Lizzie Bennet said to Lady Catherine: “a little ma’am, and poorly.” Still fun though, always fascinating.
  • Influences. Sandwich, specially the dynamic of having three guitarists and the live performances. They will always be my favorite local band to see live. Alex Turner, for the words and lyrics. And for the album AM, bless him.
  • Characters inspired by real people who formed bands. Short answer is yes, they exist. Longer answer points to origin story. There is always that one cute boy in high school who got good with the guitar, then with the drums too. And maybe in college there was a cute boy who brought his acoustic guitar around and played and sang for anyone with little prodding.
  • Biggest rockstar moment. Parading into the wedding reception hall as part of the entourage, only to see Ebe Dancel performing live. Romanceclass also met Champ Lui Pio of Hale in a rockstar lecture, that was a teenage dream come true. Local gigs in the likes of Saguijo, Conspiracy, and Route 196 were chill spots for casual rockstar encounters, as were music festivals where musicians roam freely.
  • Hype and zone out songs. Submarine OST album, all songs by Alex Turner. Love Me/ Love Me Not by HONNE, on Spotify.
  • Recs for rockstars in media. Sunset Curve and Julie and the Phantoms in Julie and the Phantoms. Mido and Falasol in Hospital Playlist, on Netflix.
  • How do we like our rockstars. Six segued to our Summer Crush tagline, PEACE LOVE AND ROCK AND ROLL, which says it best. We fall for the charisma, the stage presence. Skill on instruments and with words is hot. But we want to see these things on good people having healthy relationships, which is what romance should be about

In summation, rockstars are cool, we like them a lot. Music is awesome. And I really, really, really miss live music. There’s something magical about being in a space with friends and strangers who’ve come together to soak up notes, rhythm, and words together, to receive energy and give it back. It’s a giving circuit. It’s potent joy. And even with the reach of technology, for me live streams don’t quite cut it.

I wish the pandemic is over and we are all safe and healthy and can go to gigs again. Until then, we have our rockstars in romance.

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Writing Now

and then they were roommates by Six de los Reyes

Posted on August 26, 2020

Written by Six de los Reyes for #RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge.

Jett is a character from Feels Like Summer. Rhys is a character from Just For the Record. They both may or may not appear in other de los Reyes band/summer romance books near you.

***

 

Jett was testing her patience.

But that wasn’t new. Anyway, Rhys has had her whole life perfecting the art of not giving a flying fuck and that included ignoring any and all distractions to maintain her mien of No Fucks Given. At the moment, Jett was very much challenging Rhys’s cool but that was the thing about having roommates. More often than not, they were purpose-built to utterly demolish one’s concentration.

“Stop looking at me.” Focus? Laser sharp. Rhys kept the tip of her pencil on the page. Mostly, she accomplished scribbles. Scribbles counted as lyrics too, didn’t they? 

“I like looking at you….work,” Jett teased. “I like watching you work. You get this knot on your forehead that makes you look like a pissed off gremlin.”

Even without looking up, Rhys just knew Jett was smirking at her. It was given away by tone in her voice, that sweet, sticky quality of Jett’s voice that reminded Rhys of condensed milk on toast. “Bite me.”

“Can I, really?”

Violent was not the word to describe the way Rhys crossed out an entire verse, not even close. A closer approximation would be determined. Because she was determined to maintain her bubble of peace and quiet. Rhys kept to herself. She’d built herself a tiny nook in their shared apartment just for writing or composing, and one would think the many, many sticky notes and vinyl stickers spelling out mild to overt threats would keep the uninvited away. Unfortunately, Jett apparently gave no fucks either.

“How are the mangoes?” Jett asked.

From the corner of Rhys’s eye, she saw Jett stretch out languidly across the yoga mat. No yoga was being done, just for the record. The mat was there so Jett could lie on the floor as much as she liked when the weather was relentlessly hot like this. In a muscle shirt too large or just right. Terrible. “Like mangoes,” Rhys answered, stuffing her mouth with fruit.

Sweet. Sticky. Tart.

“Don’t mangoes increase the length and intensity of your orgasms?”

Rhys choked on the mangoes.

It seemed like the only appropriate response. It was totally undignified and the blood rushed to her face and she felt the tingles behind her ears. Naturally, Jett was in one of her giggle fits, throwing her head back and exposing the smooth column of her neck. Rhys wiped her lips with the back of her hand, conjuring the willpower to ignore Jett and focus on her lyrics. But it’s too late because now Rhys was too distracted.

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” Rhys said, composing herself.

“That’s what the scientific method is for,” Jett shot back, “someone should test out this hypothesis.”

That was most definitely not an invitation.

Was it?

No. Rhys decided it was not. Jett was just being Jett—impossible. Forever the harbinger of conflicted and often disastrous emotions.

“Go test your hypothesis then,” Rhys mumbled, picking up her pencil and pressing the lead against the page. “Over there. Don’t bother me. I’m busy.”  

“You’re the one who had mangoes. It stands to reason that you be the test subject for this experiment.”

Snap.

What were the chances Jett did not notice the lead of Rhys’s pencil breaking off and falling to the floor? Yeah. Fun. 

“Are you volunteering? It sounds like you’re volunteering. You’re volunteering, aren’t you? You can do the thing where you say something but mean the opposite.”

Oh, yeah. Jett noticed.

“I’m not volunteering.”

“Is that code for I should just go over there and kiss you?”

Yes. No. Maybe. “Just get your mangos and—what are you doing?” 

Jett rolled over to her stomach and pushed herself up on all fours and crawled toward her. Rhys busied herself with flipping the pages of her notebook, trying and failing to plug in her headphones, anything just to pretend whatever was happening was not happening but it was too late. Jett was pulling herself up next to Rhys, the fabric of her muscle shirt grazing the sensitive skin on Rhys’s thighs.

“You didn’t really answer how the mangos are.”

“I did,” Rhys mumbled, pushing the plate toward Jett and away from her.

Jett leaned in too close, and Rhys inhaled the citrusy shower gel they shared. “For science.”

Just on principle, Rhys refused to let her eyes shut when Jett closed the distance between them and softly traced the outline of Rhys’s lips before grabbing the collar of Rhys’s shirt and pushing her against the backrest without hesitation. The kiss was warm but cool, and the only reason Rhys’s instinct was to recoil was because melting was not an option. 

But anyway, the kiss was sweet and it was sticky, and resistance was maybe probably futile so, like, what was even the point?

“You’re right,” Jett whispered into Rhys’s lips. “Tastes like mangos. Now how about that other hypothesis?”

 

End

 

Prompt: Friends sila na may secret crush sa isat isa. Flirty banter ang mode of conversation, pero friends lang daw sila.

Also a prompt: This quote from an essay I was reading the other day: “Don’t mangoes increase the length and intensity of your orgasms?”

And i imagine Jett blurting it out during a casual conversation between “”friends””, habang nananahimik yung isa, deep in thought, umiinom lang naman ng mango shake or nagsnack on sliced mangoes while scribbling song lyrics on a notebook.

The essay: https://www.autostraddle.com/anatomy-of-a-mango-skin/

#RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge thread this way for more ficlets of your Romanceclass faves.

 

Writing Now

we have plenty of time by Six de los Reyes

Posted on August 19, 2020

Written by Six de los Reyes for #RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge. Phylle and Dax are characters from Field Guide : Love and Other Natural Disasters (Talking Nerdy Book 2) and may or may not appear in other de los Reyes lab nerd books near you.

Prompt: 365247 by DAY6

 

***

 

“How is it still raining?” Phylle asked, shifting over to lie on her stomach. “It was raining when we went to sleep and now we’ve woken up it’s still raining.”

Dax rolled over to Phylle’s side of the bed, throwing an arm around her waist and pulling her closer until her back was flush against his chest and he fit his knees behind her knees. Boom. Spooning. “Go back to sleep. You can sleep another eight hours if you want to.”

“It’s 4:30 in the morning.” Phylle wiggled in his embrace and tried to swim away. “I’m wide awake.”

He nuzzled the back of her shoulder. “Then go back to sleep.”

“I’m too awake.” Phylle squirmed in his arms but he held onto her tight and tangled his legs around hers. “You’re prickly,” she whined. “Your face is prickly.”

And Phylle was ticklish. It was a very specific location and it made him feel like he’d finally unlocked one secret of the universe. Perhaps the greatest discovery since dirt. “Didn’t shave.”

“Yeah, exactly. You’re like a giant cactus. I’m trapped in a giant cactus bear trap.” She feigned struggle. Dax knew she was faking it because had Phylle truly been using her strength against him, he’d have a black eye, probably two, a few bruised internal organs, and one less limb. Because Phylle was super strong and Dax was not one to forget that. 

“You like it when I don’t shave.” If his voice came out a little growly, it was because he was feeling bold. A move that paid off with the little shiver he got in response. “Go to sleep.”

“Ugh. Fine. Move over.” Phylle tried, and failed, to untangle herself in his arms. Dax liked to think she wasn’t really trying that hard because secretly she liked it. “You be the little spoon.”

“Nope. Too late.” He tightened his arms around her and breathed her in. Phylle smelled like the ocean. If the ocean also smelled a little minty fresh. “Spoon docking sequence has already been locked and completed.”

“What the fuck, how are you such a nerd? A cheesy nerd. I did not sign up for this. Stop hanging out with my friends at In Lab. They’re bad influences.”

“Shush,” he whispered behind the shell of her ear. “It’s okay to feel small. I got you. Go back to sleep. I swear, Phylle Paiton. You are impossible. Let me love you. Come on. You can do it. You’ve been through hell and high water, you can stand to be the little spoon for a little while longer. Suffer through it. Do it for science. The survival of the planet depends on it.”

She groaned, and though he couldn’t see her face Dax just knew she was rolling her eyes. “Okay, but you’re wearing too many clothes.”

“It’s cold,” was what he said but he was not at all opposed to the idea of far less clothes and cuddling in the same sentence. 

“You get naked to get warm is the point I’m making. Unless you have any qualms about naked cuddle time.”

The rush of arms and legs and getting lost in the maze of their sheets was a familiar scene, one navigated with ease and familiarity. Dax settled Phylle back in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he would his most treasured. She tensed then, shutting him out for just a split second.

He pressed his lips between her eyes. “I know you hate it, but being the little spoon isn’t always a bad thing. I know you’d rather feel big and strong and I don’t want to take that away from you, but when you’re with me like this I want you to know that it’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

“Why would you say something like that? That’s awful. That’s terrible. Take it back.”

He laughed as she buried her face in his chest. “You don’t have to be ashamed of having feelings other than anger and more anger. Being soft isn’t a bad thing. And I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be soft with me.”

“I know,” she said, finally, voice small. “I know that. I’m working on it.”

“Hey, we have time,” he muttered, pressing another kiss on her cheek. “We also have champorado and how many streaming services is it now?”

Phylle propped her chin up his chest and pressed herself closer to him. Her skin was warm and her gaze was hot. “You know what else we have?”

He should know better than to ask, what with that glint in her eyes. Or maybe that naughty look was exactly why he asked,“What else do we have?”

“Condoms. We have, like, a full box.”

He laughed into her kiss, rolling her over and pinning her down on the bed. “I’m trying to trap you in cuddles and you’re being uncooperative.”

“No,” she teased. “I’m giving you a chance to tire me out so you can put me to sleep.”

Challenge accepted?

“You know what else would be totally cool?” Phylle asked somewhere between the kisses and the touches and her nails dragging down his back.

“What?”

“We could totally skip work today.” A gasp. A moan. A noise complaint from the neighbors probably later in the day. “Do it like the cool kids.”

“It’s a Sunday.”

“Shhh. Don’t ruin it.”

 

End

 

Note: Again Jay was gladly used with her consent. She tried to be profesh while putting this down. It was not easy. I hope you enjoyed reading.

#RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge thread this way and here too for more ficlets of your Romanceclass faves.

 

Writing Now

Clean Up on Aisle D by Six de los Reyes

Posted on August 19, 2020

Written by Six de los Reyes for #RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge. Jett and Adrian are characters from Feels Like Summer and may or may not appear in other de los Reyes band/summer romance books near you.

Prompt: Comic con and fun banter / laughs every time they see anything star wars

***

Jett was laughing even before Adrian got the joke, but one look at the general direction she’d been looking at and he was steering her away from the display of lightsabers down the hall of the convention center. It mocked him, almost. Neon blue against red all lit up throughout all iterations across the franchise. But it was the green one that was the worst.

Just the absolute worst.

At least in public. 

In private, well, Adrian was one to choose his battles.

“Aisle D,” Jett snorted, tugging him back toward the middle of the main walkway, squeezing through the crowd and getting him slapped in the face with the papier-mâché wings of a Deathscyte passing by. “Lightsabers on aisle D,” she giggled, curling into him to check on his nose. “They cannot not be doing this on purpose.”

“You’re the only one who thinks that,” he muttered.

She pulled him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss the tip of his nose. “I can’t be the only one who thinks that lightsabers on aisle D isn’t funny. And you know what? I can prove that. Let’s ask the Yellow Ranger. Hey! Yellow!” 

“I believe you,” he said, letting himself be dragged back into the fray, this time successfully dodging the giant swords, spears, and the occasional horns and tails. “Try and contain your excitement,” he deadpanned. “Try not to get us kicked out of the convention center.”

Not that Jett paid him any mind. “I feel like I should chase after Yellow. I feel it in my bones. I have to talk to her. I need to know how she feels about aisle D.”

“Right behind you, darling.”

Jett spun on her heel and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Did you just call me darling?”

“How did you even hear that?” he asked, raising his voice above the white noise of a comic con crowd, the live event wherever the stage was, and the gaggle of conversation floating around them.

She poked him again. “You’re trying to distract me from my mission.”

“Am I?” He nudged her to the left just a little bit, just enough to not get in the way of a whole group of cosplayers and their support team. “Whatever your mission is, I’m being supportive.”

“No,” Jett shot back, eyes narrowing at him. “You’re trying to do that thing—” Her head shot to the side. “Is that Kylo Ren? I should ask him about lightsabers on aisle D. I should ask him about his lightsaber. You think he’d let me touch it?” 

Adrian sighed a sigh that felt like he’d aged ten years in the span of two seconds. “If you’re going to ask him about his lightsaber—”

“Baby,” she lilted, leaning against the post with the big D on the top. “Your lightsaber is the only lightsaber that matters to me. You know that.”

He cleared his throat to buy him some time. Jett using the B word on him sent a chill down his spine but the whole lightsaber business shot a whole other kind of jolt straight to other non-family friendly places. “Sure, say stuff like that out loud. That’s fine. This is fine.” He searched the crowd. “Who do you want to accost first? Yellow Ranger? Kylo Ren? How about that kid staring at you? I think he has a crush on you.”

“Accost?” she scoffed, clutching her chest on mock offense. “Accost is such a strong word. Me? Accost anyone? I would never!” Then her lips twisted into a smirk that had no business being so sexy. “You’re a little worried, aren’t you?”

“No.” And he meant it. He joined her under the sign. “Whatever you want to do, let’s go do it. You want to make a mess at aisle D? I’ll bring a mop. I’ll follow you around with a mop.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “You’re sweet. Here’s an idea. Do you want me to, like, dress up as Princess Leia?”

“No.”

“What about Rey?”

“No.”

“Jyn Erso?”

“No.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing if it all ends up on the floor anyway.”

“Sure. That’s stuff you say out loud in the middle of all this.” He gestured vaguely around. The madness was enough to drown out the little conversations if the swelling video game music blasting from speakers didn’t. When the curious eyes stopped to stare, Adrian found that he didn’t care much for them. Though he probably should. Just a little bit. Maybe.

Jett grinned at him, maddeningly teasing and so sure of herself. “You’re super into me right now, aren’t you? Admit it. You’re hot for me. It’s okay. You can say it out loud.”

He laughed softly to himself, allowing just the slightest melt into her warm touch. “You’re doing that Jedi mind trick on me again.” 

“What trick?” she asked, batting her lashes at him. Nothing about the act was innocent. Especially not the way her nails scratched the back of his neck. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Fine,” he said, giving up the war. “If it’s lightsabers you want, it’s lightsabers you’ll get.”

 

End

 

Note: Jay has nothing to do with this but she was used with her consent.

#RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge thread this way and here too for more ficlets of your Romanceclass faves.

 

Writing Now

JxR: First Meeting

Posted on August 12, 2020

Written for #RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge. Sort of. Jill is a character from the Playlist series, starting with Songs of Our Breakup. Rhys is a character from Six de los Reyes‘ book Just For the Record and also appears in anthology Summer Crush. 

***

 

This was nice.

Silence. Calm. Being surrounded by band boys most hours of her waking life guaranteed noise, chaos, and fun too, sure. Music and hijinks abound. Son and Nino ganging up on Kim while Miki mediated. In the midst of that, productivity and songs happened somehow. It worked out.

Music could be quiet too.

From the corner of her eye she saw Rhys nudge her fork, spearing a piece of pancake. Jill mirrored the motion, taking a cut of bacon on her next bite.

She didn’t know what led to this exactly, a midnight pancake run with Rhys, DJ unicorn extraordinaire. Miki had said working with Rhys had been the strangest yet most efficient experience, a volley of files attached to emails. Abrupt, to-the-point emails. That worked out too, the Summer Crush theme song turned out nice.

Was this about work?

Jill shrugged, munching on another bit of bacon with some egg. This late, the pancake place was empty, aside from the sleepy crew behind the counter.

Earlier tonight Rhys had sent her a text. Pancakes? I know a place.

Jill had said yes. It wasn’t complicated.

They sat side by side instead of across each other, with enough space for another person between them. Rhys was now slurping down her iced tea. The girl seemed to enjoy sweet things. Jill slid her untouched glass to Rhys’s side of the table, preferring water.

Music was playing through the speakers. It was ‘Iris’ by the Googoo Dolls a minute ago. Now it was ‘Breathless’ by the Corrs. Y2K karaoke hits was the playlist theme maybe. Cool.

“So, your boys,” were Rhys’s words, bringing a quick death to their silence.

“I don’t have boys,” Jill said, surprised. “I have a Shinta?”

Rhys gave a nod and a brief second of eye contact, as if approving.

“One boy. Not your Shinta. The bassist. Curly?”

“What is Son up to now?” Jill groaned.

“What are they up to—is more precise. Curly, Fluffy.” She sighed, pointing a thumb to her chest as if claiming responsibility for the second name, albeit reluctantly.

Jill had to take a moment to try and pinpoint a Fluffy among Rhys’s crew. Curly for Son was self-explanatory, but was Fluffy supposed to be ironic?

“Michael Brian?” She ventured a guess.

Rhys gave a short grunt which Jill took as a yes.

“And Steven,” Jill finished, comprehension dawning. She wondered for a second what could be Rhys’s nickname for Steven but figured that was a question for another midnight.

Mikhail Learns to Brian. The surprise project group that two of their bandmates plus Steven of Korean rock band East Genesis Project fame had cooked up. Right under their stern leaders’ noses, an accomplishment the trio had been giddy about.

Rhys had moved on to sipping Jill’s iced tea. “Does Traindude approve of the name?”

“Traindude…?” Her bandmates were all Traindudes. Trainmen? Oh right. “Who—Miki? He didn’t have a choice. They told him to be grateful.”

“It worries me.”

“Have you heard their samples? They sound good.”

“I’m not worried about the music.”

“I get you.” Jill stuffed her mouth with pancakes, chewing to buy time. She felt herself smirk. “I don’t have energy for an intervention, if that’s where you’re going. Maybe this conversation should have been with Kim?”

“No, not that guy. Grumpy would…do things. And I’m just…”

“Worried. Gotcha.”

Jill really did. Most times the project group thing was funny, because separately, Son, Michael Brian and Steven were hilarious. Together, they were an explosion waiting to go off.

Case in point, dropping a single in the middle of East Genesis Project’s V Live session.

Second case in point, stealing—“borrowing” the poor Shinta Mori standee for their music video shoot.

Chaos. Energy.

Jill pulled out her phone and set it on the table between her and Rhys, finding a song. It was a new one. The boys had coerced Miki to supervise their rehearsal and Miki had recorded it, sending her the track.

It was a fast beat. Clip-clopping. Heavy on the bass and synths. Generous with the hi hats, the drums thumping its own rhythm. Michael Brian was crooning, the sweetness of the sound a surprising contrast to what she knew of his abs and to the energy of the track.

Rhys had closed her eyes. The song looped and neither of them stopped it.

“I will be in touch.”

She sounded so serious. Jill couldn’t help a burst of laughter.

“Is this you or the company speaking?” she asked.

“Me.” Rhys flicked her another look, another second’s eye contact. “The song is nice. I’d like to hear the next one. It doesn’t have to be pancakes next time.”

Jill shrugged, licking butter off her lips as she took another bite. “Pancakes are nice.”

***

That was fun, heh.

#RCReadathon2020 Prompt and Pairing, Please! Challenge thread this way for more ficlets of your Romanceclass faves.