Work Text:
1.
When Damiano David was twenty-two years old, he was cursed into becoming a glam rocker.
The only thing needed to fix him was the love of a good band. Damiano didn't have much hope. He'd been in a lot of bands since he was a kid, but none of them had been very good.
And so every morning, Damiano applied his lipstick and eye shadow and looked at himself in the mirror sadly. Cursed. He was going to be cursed forever. He frowned as he put on a corset and heels and went about his day.
2.
Victoria, Thomas, and Ethan assessed the haunted apartment building in front of them. The doors were locked and boarded, but they did have a signed lease.
"Hello?" Thomas called into the building. There was, vaguely, the sound of someone soulfully crooning a song about longing for his muse.
They all exchanged looks. Haunted by a singer wasn't really haunted, after all. The last apartment building had been haunted by a chemist.
3.
"I've been cursed into this monstrous form," Damiano explained to them. He gestured toward his outfit, which today included a twisted gold collar, matching wrist cuffs and rings, and make-up that had taken two hours to apply. It had glitter and rhinestones and perfect shading. They could see his nipples and belly button, but not his knees or elbows. His hair was perfectly gelled and his nail polish was perfectly chipped. "I'm so hideous. No one will ever want me to sing for them."
"Actually, we've been looking for a singer," Victoria said.
"All over the place," Ethan put in.
"All of you are so beautiful," Damiano said. "What could you want with someone like me?"
"You should have heard our last singer," Thomas said feelingly.
"Come on, what do you have to lose?" Victoria asked.
4.
Damiano looked down at the shirt. It felt weird. It had a front, a back, and two sleeves. It went from his collarbone to his hips. It wasn't made by a fashion designer. It was all one color. It was-- drab. It was boring. It came from his closet and this morning had been purple mesh with a metallic sheen. In the right light, it had looked like peacock feathers.
"Oh, no," Damiano said. "Oh, no, my wardrobe. It's all fixed."
Ethan poked his head out from the back of the closet, where he had been rummaging through some boxes. "This isn't too bad," he said. "If you don't want it, I'll take it." It was the leather jacket from Damiano's flirtation with punk when he was seventeen and looked much better than the monstrosity that Damiano was holding. Damiano grabbed for it, but Ethan held it back.
Victoria was going through Damiano's jewelry case, which still held earrings, but they were simple studs now, no dangles or hoops. "I think we need to take you shopping," she said. "You just look weird now."
Damiano sadly assessed his current black slacks and button-down. "Or maybe we could just get me cursed again," he said hopefully. "It'd be much cheaper on our budget in the long run."
5.
The witch happily counted the cash. She'd offered them a Whole Band Aesthetic discount, but they'd insisted on over-paying to make sure it would never wear off. She hoped they'd leave a good Yelp review.
"Good luck at Eurovision!" she called after them.