𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀 彡 [n. sixx] [✔]

𝔬𝔫𝔢!

✧･ﾟ: 𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔟𝔞𝔤!

Ventura, California wasn't known as a hotspot for being the birthplace of notable bands, much less, bands that managed to perfect the art style of punk rock similar to the shit that groups like Joy Division or the Sex Pistols had managed to ameliorate as well as shatter the imaginary mold that musicians were being boxed into in the prior decade. They quote-unquote "revolutionized the future of punk rock music" and everyone, everyone—every boy and every girl who gave a fuck about the lyrical anarchy in the genre listened to whatever those bands had to say.

This wasn't that lame era of music anymore in which people were censored and bands didn't write their own songs anymore—thanks to the Beatles those days were gone and in return, punk bands around the country gave people like Buddy Holly a run for their money by putting down harsh words on paper about the problems of modern society and then singing, maybe even screaming their hearts out about said issue. New York had its fair share of punk rock wannabes and a handful of successful bands as well. So did Seattle. But not Ventura. The quaint ocean-side city hadn't seen a punk rock emergence since...ever.

That was the norm up until 1979 when Tanya Sweeney—a freshly turned young adult, right out of high school decided to host auditions for her future bandmates who would lead her to success in her equally future band. Many tried out and many failed. Some even accused Tanya of being a 'delusional bitch' plus many more misogynistic comments which just prompted the blondie to deck them right in the face with a slick right hook, leaving them as a groaning mess on the floor of her oil-stained garage—a handy trick her old man taught her before he still had time to pay attention to his family, or lack thereof. Tanya's life was crumbling right before her eyes.

Between her six-year-old sister's untimely death and her mother's newly acquired LSD binges, Tanya's hideaway quickly became music. Anything to do with it. And of course, it wasn't so hard escaping into the world of music when Tanya's daddy dearest was frequenting business trips all the way to New York just to handle affairs with the very band he was working for who were none other than the Ramones. The motherfucking Ramones—the same band that had made Tanya's high school experience worthwhile considering she spent hours upon hours listening to the Rocket to Russia album during her sophomore year.

And when her father wasn't dealing with the Ramones, the middle-aged man had plenty of other bands who he was representing when certain musicians went to court for some reason. A lawyer for dirty musicians was his job description and that just made Tanya even more interested. But when Charles Sweeney—Tanya's emotionally absent father brought her along for the ride to Los Angeles and spent time with her, for the first time in many months, the blonde powerhouse felt elated to get away from her childhood home—the room upstairs where her sweet sister, Lena Sweeney, passed away from a concussion that her father refused to treat because he didn't think much of it.

The infamous Sunset Strip opened Tanya's mind, who was only seventeen during that time, to all the possibilities of making it big in the music industry. It was a secret plan that she didn't even want to share with her own father strictly because Charles Sweeney would be dead set on representing his daughter which meant considering her as a client and Tanya didn't want that. She didn't want to live in a shadow of a man who was as ignorant as he was borderline egocentric. Tanya wanted to be her own person and get shit done independently—a very punk philosophy on its own. And after encountering the members of Aerosmith, Tanya knew that music was in her blood. Singing came naturally and she was already a threat with the electric guitar.

Even if Joe Perry tried to intimidate her as well as semi-flirt with her, the blonde stood her ground, head held high as she breathed in the cigarette fumes that lingered in the room. The stoic, yet confident expression painted across her sleep-deprived face seemed to make the male guitarist a bit uneasy, but that was the plan all along. No matter how much Tanya admired the band, she knew that her future band—Vicious Ventura would blow them out of the water along with any other poor sons of bitches who wanted to compete and show the girl that this was apparently a "man's world." Tanya Sweeney—soon to be known as Tanya Ventura would have a couple of things to say about that.