#Jeff's solo tour

[thoughtsthatarehardtoexpress]

Being on twt watching all these fancams of Jeff's concert has made me emotional i absolutely cannot move on from him singing sott like wow. I am absolutely emotional i love that cute boy. Fucking hell he even found time to promote his upcoming series as well. Adorable munchkin. He is gonna be the ring around the Saturn for his Saturdays. Like my comfort person i love him 😭😭

So i am going to spread jeff love on my dash now.

1. Preshow outfit - all black his classic

2. The first show outfit- a silver metallic suit which had me fucking screaming

3. 2nd outfit - that fucking black tank top had me dying. That green jacket like i want that whole fit right fucking now.

4. The post show outfit - his usual casual comfy look

I absolutely love this angel of a boy. The way he took time to talk to all of the fans, promote his show, talk about barcode with the wholelot of adoration. He is just sooo lovable.

Pic credits to all owners. I found them on Twitter.

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: Your rockstar boyfriend comes home early and finds you very needy. But he already knows that, doesn't he?

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), pure breeding kink, unprotected p in v, masturbation (m & f), mention of ovulation and periods, voyeurism if you squint, rockstar!Eddie Munson, established relationship

A/N: a collaboration with the love of my life @corroded-hellfire, based on the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter.

--

Eddie Munson may have failed a few classes—there was a reason he had three senior years—but sex ed wasn’t one of them. He learned how to use a condom, that girls could get pregnant their first time, and the difference between a pad and a tampon (living with his Uncle Wayne kept that conversation at bay.)

But the lesson Eddie recalls now is that ovulation occurs about seven days after your last period. Which, according to the pocket calendar he keeps stashed away during touring, is today. 

It isn’t like he asks about your cycle, but when he calls from the road, you’ll mention when you have cramps or you’ve just taken a Midol. At first, he tracked your periods so he could make sure the house had a plethora of chocolate during that awful week, but then he began noticing…other patterns. 

Two months ago, you’d initiated phone sex, whining about how badly you needed him inside you, needed his cum, needed his cum inside you. Last month, you’d cheekily informed him that you’d snapped some Polaroids earlier that day and had express-mailed them to his hotel room—photos that were for his eyes only. Both of those instances occurred two weeks after your period ended. 

This month, Eddie refused to be apart from you when your desire took over. 

That’s how he finds himself ditching the End of Tour party, coming home a day early to surprise you. It’s been months without you, months stuck in close proximity with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. If Eddie doesn’t get his hands on you soon, he might implode. 

“Babe?”

No answer. 

Eddie frowns, taking the winding stairs two at a time. The light in your bedroom is on, the door slightly ajar. A soft humming comes from inside, the noise interrupted every so often with your unrestrained moans. 

He can’t help but listen for a moment. 

“Eddie…f-fuck…right there…”

If he hadn’t been away for so long, he might have let you enjoy your solo time. Maybe he’d secretly rub one out to your sweet sounds. A high keening sound robs Eddie of his thoughts as he slips his own hand into his pants. 

His mind is blank, no memory of the thoughts that were just floating through his consciousness. Now, there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the way his fingers wrap around the base of his cock. 

“Eddie,” you whine pathetically, “need you to fill me up, baby. Please, please, please.”

As if his body is running on autopilot in response to what you just said, Eddie removes his hand from his pants and pushes the bedroom door fully open. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed in pleasure so you don’t see your boyfriend as he stalks closer to the bed.

“Need your cum, Eddie,” you whimper, body trembling with want. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Eddie coos softly, loud enough so you know he’s there, but not enough to scare you or ruin the mood. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of that sultry voice. The mood in the room begs for you to keep going, to keep working your fingers in and out of your needy hole as Eddie rips his shirt off over his head. But your curiosity is too strong to keep at bay, even with the neediness surging through you.

“E-Eddie?” you ask through labored breath. “What’re you doing home?”

“Skipped out early so I could be with my girl.”

Eddie undoes the buckle on his belt, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. “And it’s a good thing I did. I can’t have my pretty princess all needy for me like this. Let me help you, baby.” Eddie gets the handcuffs off his belt and hangs them on his index finger as he approaches the door of the bed. A dark eyebrow quirks up as he gives you a smirk. “Now that I’m home with these, sweetheart, you don’t need to use those pink fuzzy ones you keep in the drawer.”

“Please,” you whimper.

That one little word is all Eddie needs to hear before he kicks his jeans off and quickly shuffles out of his boxers. He kicks them somewhere to be found at a later time and kneels on the foot of the bed. 

Your dark, lust filled eyes follow his every movement. 

“Eds, can you—”

Eddie grins, already pressing kisses along your inner thighs to your core. “Baby, you don’t gotta tell me what to do. I know this body better than I know my own.”

With that, his tongue finds your clit, licking and sucking with excruciating precision. His ringed fingers wrap around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders and tugging you close. 

He breathes in, inhaling your scent like it’s a god-sent nectar. 

“Missed my pretty girl and her pretty pussy,” he mumbles into you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

Your leg twitches as he laps at you, a mixture of his saliva and your arousal pooling beneath you. The noises you’re making are involuntary and straight up obscene. 

“Eddie…Eddie…oh my god, Eddie!” Throwing your head back, you feel your body tense in anticipation of that delicious release. Your orgasm is a tidal wave, crashing over you in a way you hadn’t experienced since Eddie had left for the tour. 

Eddie sits back now, rocking on his heels. “Still got it, huh?” His grin is proud and slick with your sheen. 

“Definitely.”

“Good.” He presses his palms to his thighs and stands up, giving you a better view of his own desire. 

Pre-cum leaks from his tip, his cock rock-hard just from eating you out. You have a strong suspicion that if you’d taken any longer to finish, he would’ve busted before you. 

You want to take him in your mouth, to glide your tongue over the prominent vein and knead his balls until you’re swallowing his load. 

Eddie, however, can only focus on one thing. 

“Heard my pretty girl wants me to fill her up,” he coos. “Is that true? Do you want me to fill you up until my cum drips out of you?”

To his surprise, you shake your head no. 

“Don’t want it to drip out of me. I want to keep all of it inside.”

The groan that emanates from Eddie’s throat fuels a fire in your belly. His cock twitches, the head tapping against his navel. 

“Sounds like you want me to claim you. Permanently.” Not just the hickeys that fade within a few days. No, you want him to—

Without hesitating, Eddie climbs onto the bed and positions himself on top of you. 

“Allow me the honors, sweetheart.” Eddie drags the tip of his cock through your wet center and pushes in with a groan. “Fuck, thassit. Feels even better than I remember.”

You gripped his biceps, relishing in the gentle stretch of him within you. Every tour felt like an eternity, but that first time together each time he came home was worth the wait. 

“Now,” Eddie growled into your ear as he found his pace, “tell me what you want. Tell me what you need from me.”

You scrounge up a reply with the sliver of your mental capacity that isn’t focused on him. “Your baby.”

Eddie smiles, kissing down your jawline. “You need my baby, huh? Need me to put a baby in this cute belly of yours?”

“Mhm. Need that s-so bad, Eddie. Please.” The words tumble from your lips in utter desperation. All you can think about is having his baby, his hands caressing your bump, knowing that he’s the reason you’re pregnant. 

“Goddamn,” Eddie hisses. He buries his head in your neck. “Beg for my baby some more.”

You arch your back, letting him wrap his arm around your waist. “Please give me your baby. Pleasepleaseplease—”

His fingers grip you harder, his movements becoming more erratic with each thrust. You can feel his fingernails digging crescents into your skin. 

“There we go, sweet girl. Fuck, ‘m close…”

You nod, too enraptured in him to even utter the words ‘me, too.’ All you can manage are a few strangled moans as your orgasm washes over you. Your body is light with pleasure, drifting away on a cloud of contentment. 

“Eddie.” The sound of his name on your lips tips him over the edge. It’s just the way you say it, all breathy and soft, that drives him wild. 

With a final groan, Eddie spills into you. “Oh, sh-shit…that’s it. Take it. Take my cum, baby.” There was a primal edge to every word. 

Both spent from all your exertion, Eddie flops down next to you and the only sounds are two ragged breaths as you both attempt to control your breathing. 

Once your bodies have calmed down a bit, Eddie turns on his side and splays one large hand across your lower abdomen. His warm palm is a comforting weight, one that has your eyes slipping closed and a smile coming to your face. 

“You’re home early,” you finally say.

Eddie chuckles and leans in to press a lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you. Didn’t wanna go to some dumb party if you weren’t going to be there.” He presses another kiss a little higher on your shoulder. “Especially not when you’re ovulating.”

Your heavy eyes open and you let your head fall to the side, coming face to face with your boyfriend.

“How’d you know I was ovulating?”

“I remember when you got your period,” he says. “Just some simple math. I may not have been able to pass geometry, but this kind of math I can do.”

A soft chuckle emanates from your chest and you fully turn on your side to face him. Eddie wastes no time pulling you flush up against his chest, his strong arms winding around you.

“Came here with a mission to knock me up, huh?” you tease, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. 

“Seemed like an easy decision.” Eddie presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You want to be carrying my baby. I want to get you pregnant. Little Munson Junior wants to be born. Everyone wins.”

You laugh as you bury your face against his shoulder. 

“Would love to have a little you,” you say. 

“Nah, I hope they look like you,” Eddie says. “One of you is already unbearably cute, I can’t wait to have two.”

“Can’t wait to snuggle them,” you say, a lazy smile spreading on your face at the thought. “You, me, and a little baby.”

“Our little baby,” Eddie adds.

“Hopefully this one took,” you say.

“Either way I’m prepared. If you’re not, I’m more than willing to fuck you every waking moment until it sticks. If you are…well, I may have picked up a few pregnancy tests on the way home,” Eddie admits.

“You didn’t.” You look up at your boyfriend, a gleeful chuckle following your words.

“Hell yeah, I did. Corroded Coffin’s latest album and tour are over and done with. It’s time you and I had our own little collaboration.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hum. “We make pretty sweet music together.”

“Oh, we absolutely do.” 

Eddie waggles his eyebrows roguishly before resting his forehead against yours. “But tonight,” he murmurs mischievously, “I’m hoping to hear some screamo.” 

--

[jeffcbliss]

Jeff Beck - City National Grove; Anaheim, CA (11-8-22). @jeffbeckmusic

Photo: Jeff Bliss

[steddieas-shegoes]

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

[lexirosewrites]

The Journey Ahead AU Part 1 of 2

(This is a thought I've been chewing on, and some details might pop up in the Bewitched By Yuletide AU)

A!Eddie gets out of Hawkins w his band, and they make it. They tour the world selling out stadiums, they record 12 albums together & 5 of those albums win a Grammy for Album of the Year, the rest win Grammys for the lead single or the music videos, basically every album wins "a" Grammy,

then they go radio silent after finishing the tour of their 12th album "Defeating The Dragon" until one day nearly 3 months later their official accounts across the internet announce the band is going their separate ways, tht they all saw different futures ahead of them, tht they loved their fans & the opportunities they got to have thanks to their fans & as a farewell they released a re-recording of the lead single tht got them to where they are titled "The Journey Ahead" (it was the first track on their first album)

Life goes on, the industry moves on, and the band do too. A!Jeff becomes a successful movie star, A!Gareth hosts a radio show listened to across the nation, B!Felix (unnamed freak) has a wildly successful solo career no one saw coming, and Eddie... the press & the fans don't rlly know where Eddie went. The last ppl heard concerning him was the sale of his mansion in LA. Life still goes on, and the mystery of what happened to Eddie Munson fades into the background noise.

3 years later the 20th anniversary of their first album approaches & Felix feels they should do something all together again. A true final hurrah.

Meanwhile Eddie is living a fairly normal life in a small college town in Oregon, he owns & operates a book store, spends all day Sunday w the ppl he's come to know as family since leaving fame behind, has 2 successful books written under a pseudonym, and his mate is pregnant w their first child.

O!Steve inherited a lot of money from his grandparents & he decided to pour tht money into opening a no kill shelter & animal sanctuary, he bought a farmhouse not far from the town, his best friend A!Robin lives w him on the farm & coordinates much of the nitty gritty business details, & he focuses on caring for the animals. Eddie blows into town after a successful stint in rehab & moves into the neighboring farmhouse w the old alpha who stobin have Sunday breakfast w every week. They don't think much of it till Wayne calls postponing the Sunday breakfast till next week, explaining tht his nephew is in town. The next week arrives & stobin have an unholy habit of being morning ppl. They go abt morning chores before they walk to Wayne's for breakfast, Steve & Robin r greeted first by the two dogs Wayne adopted from them, then Wayne himself, & when they step inside Steve lays eyes on Eddie. It's like the world stops but Steve's been hurt by alphas before so he's cautious of the attention Eddie gives him, even if Steve feels like something clicks into place whenever they're together. Robin tests Eddie's determination to court her best friend properly for nearly a year & only let's up when Eddie gifts Steve an enclosed patio for the cats of the shelter.

Steddie court for abt 3 more months before taking the leap & mating with official courthouse papers & a small reception tht the band attend (bc they never stopped talking or dropped contact) Eddie moves into the farmhouse & Robin moves out. She doesn't go far though bc that's her platonic soulmate & Eddie built her a cottage on the sanctuary property (it is a big piece of land) so she's always nearby but now there's an illusion of privacy for all 3 of them.

Then the 20th anniversary approaches & the rest of the band want to do something. Gareth thinks it'd b fun to record a limited podcast series, Jeff wants to curate a documentary, and Felix wants to give recording a new album a try. Eddie's the one who settles the arguments by proposing they do all 3. They've all been writing since separating as a band, they've got more than enough to talk abt for a podcast, & a documentary might b fun especially because Jeff wants it to b his directorial debut.

i know some people hate rockstar eddie, but i will always be a fan and i love when he uses his money/resources to woo his stevie🥰

link to part two

[rogueddie]

On and On / Figure You Out

Corroded Coffin are at the peak of their popularity. They're not mainstream, or in any way big, but they're known enough that they're kept busy. Touring as an opening act, special appearences in little underground places...

Eddie hasn't been home for months. He'd known that he'd most likely be kept away when their manager started talking to them excitedly about all the opportunities.

He hadn't expected it to take such a toll on his and Steves relationship.

It had taken him a while to notice the problems too. He's always so tired after gigs... it takes him two weeks to notice how tired Steve sounds.

"Are you ok?" He blurts, as soon as he notices.

"I'm fine," Steve says.

Eddie can hear the lie.

"Are you tired?" He pushes. "Long day?"

"No. You don't need to worry about me. What were you saying about Jeff? Something about a solo, right?"

No, Eddie wants to scream. I was talking about us!

He doesn't say that though. He rattles off the things that happened in their last show- the things that are interesting, anyway. He doesn't mention how hard it had hit him, after the show, how lonely he is.

It's the same sort of conversation they always have. There isn't really anything different.

It feels different.

After saying their goodbyes, hanging up, Eddie hovers by the phone for a few minutes. Long enough for the others, who had been waiting nearby, to worry.

"Eddie?" Jeff is the one to walk over, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You ok, man?"

"Yeah," Eddie replies, automatically. But, frowning, he starts shaking his head. "No. I don't know. It's..."

"Hey, stay calm, it's ok. Did something happen? Is Steve ok?"

"Yeah, it... no. No. Nothing happened, but... I just have this feeling, man, like something really bad is happened and I'm seeing it too late and now-"

"Hey, hey, Eddie, breathe. Whatever it is, we'll help you out, ok? We can fix this, right?"

"Right," Eddie says. He looks to Gareth and Grant, then back to Jeff. "I need to go home. I need..."

"It's that big? Are you sure you're not overreacitng?"

"I don't know. I don't want to risk it. Like, it feels like something is about to break. I can't fix it from here- if I wait, it'll be too late, and-"

"Ok," Jeff cuts in, turning to gesture the other two over. "You go home, we'll find someone to cover for a few dates."

"I know someone who could cover for Chicago," Gareth offers.

"Thank you," Eddie manages to choke out. He knows it's not enough but, by their expressions, they at least understand some of what he can't bring himself to say.

"Go get your man," Grant encourages. "We'll be fine."

"Thank you," Eddie repeats. "So much, it-"

"Jesus, man!" Gareth cuts in, nudging him. "We know. We love you too. Now, go!"

"Go," Jeff says, nodding, when Eddie looks to him. "He won't wait forever, right?"

It takes too long to get a flight back to Indiana, and even longer to find a taxi willing to take him all the way to Hawkins. It ends up taking him 36 hours to get home, to get to Steve, after the phone call.

Steve is sleeping on the couch when he gets in, curled up in one of Eddies old sweaters.

"Sweetheart," Eddie whispers, brushing his hair back, gentle and soft.

Steve mumbles, nose scrunching in annoyance as he wakes up. He blinks at Eddie a few times, confused. "Eds? What- how are you here?"

"I missed you." Eddie isn't sure why he's whispering. The moment feels so fragile. "I needed to see you."

"But your tour-"

"Can wait. You're more important."

"What about that, uh... upward swing?" Steve pulls his hand off his hair, holding in both his own. "Once in a lifetime opportunity, right?"

"I don't care about that. On the phone, you... I had to come home, Stevie. You sounded so... I don't know. Tired?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, before admitting; "I missed you. Doesn't feel like home when you're gone."

"Good job I'm back then, huh?"

"For how long? One night and then you're gone again?"

"Forever, if you want. Or I can drag you out with us. Whatever it takes. Whatever you need."

"Just... don't leave me for so long."

"I won't. I promise."

"Ok," Steve finally smiles. It's a small, frail thing, but it's a smile. "Thank you, Eds. For coming here."

"Anytime." Eddie kisses the back of his hand. "Seriously, anytime. Call me and I'll come running. Whenever and whatever. I love you, so much. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I love you, too."

[penny00dreadful]

This is so fucking stupid and I'm not sorry. Inspired by this video of the two guitarists from DragonForce taking the piss out of Sabaton(affectionately).

Jeffington: Just ended your whole career on live 😘

Eddie scrunched his eyes closed then wrenched them open again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his screen. It was too early in the fucking morning for this shit. 

Whatever.

He buried his face back in between Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

Corroded Coffin had only started making it big in the early 90’s when they split right down the middle. As time went on they started to drift towards different subgenres. Jeff and Grant had wanted to explore a more international sound, while Gareth and Eddie were happy to stay in the power metal scene with just a touch of neoclassical. 

They had tried to make it work, but the sounds were just too different and while Eddie and Grant wanted to continue on with lyrics full of fantasy and gothic romance, Jeff and Grant had wanted to focus more on ‘the human condition’.

So they separated. Eddie and Gareth had kept the Corroded Coffin name while Jeff and Grant travelled, exploring their sound.

There was no animosity. They were all still the best of friends. Even as Jeff and Grant had settled in Stockholm, where they had quickly shot to stardom with their new band members, Eddie and Gareth made their home in California enjoying their own success. They met up as often as they could, whenever tour dates aligned or they were booked into the same festivals.

Eddie and Steve were godfathers to Grant’s youngest daughter.

He and Gareth had been groomsmen in Jeff’s wedding.

They were solid.

Which was why the text from Jeff was more exasperating than worrying. 

Plus it was like… nine in the morning which, granted, wasn't early, early but Eddie was a damn rockstar.

And he might have lost track of time reading last night and stayed up until four but that's besides the point. 

But then Steve was handing him his morning coffee with a kiss, saying Robin had sent him a link to something and fine. He’d go watch whatever stupid shit Jeff pulled.

Eddie settled back into bed because he could and it was a Sunday.

Sue him.

But he couldn’t decide if he should be fake-mad or wildly entertained because the link Robin had sent opened the VOD about an hour into the stream, just in time for Grant to say “Should we do Corroded Coffin?”

Both Jeff and Grant were sitting in Jeff’s studio space in front of Jeff’s computer with a range of instruments behind them, grinning at each other.

“Oh shit, definitely!” Jeff stood and seemed to think about it for a second before picking up one of his guitars, a bright acid green with black tendrils running throughout. “The most dramatic of the bunch,” he leaned into the mic, gesturing at the guitar before taking his seat again, “just like their frontman.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

“You think you can shred like Munson?” Grant asked, leaning forward and starting to tap out drum beats on the laptop.

Jeff scoffed. “Yeah right. Let me just play at five-fucking-thousand bpm and sing at the same time. It’s gonna be an approximation at best.”

Surprisingly enough the music they came up with did sound very close to Corroded Coffin’s sound. Grant relied heavily on the kick-drum and high hat to a ridiculous degree for Gareth's part and yeah, fair.

Gareth did love his high hat.

Jeff played the fastest guitar riff he could muster which honestly wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t go quite as hard as Eddie could but guitar was always Eddie’s first love and he was a master at his craft. Jeff gave the camera a cheeky wink as he used the computer to speed the guitar solo up, making it sound far more complex.

“I swear to god,” Eddie muttered to himself, “if they insinuate that I do that, I’ll fucking-”

“Eddie would never.” Jeff said, responding to someone in the chat who’d asked that very question.

Grant looked up with a sly smile. “Oh, god no. He’d never. He’s too proud for that.”

Cheeky bastards.

“You know what this needs?”

“Female backing vocals?”

“Yes!" Jeff snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Like something pulled from Jackson’s Lord of the Rings!”

“Oh come on!” Eddie pouted, but even still he could tell they weren’t actually making fun.

A notification popped up on Eddie’s phone.

Gare-Bear: Have you watched the stream?

Eddie: Watching right now. They’re starting on the lyrics.

Gare-Bear: Did Robin send you the link?

Eddie: Yeah.

Gare-Bear: Okay, keep watching.

Eddie: 👍

By the time the guys had hashed the lyrics out, punctuating them with high falsetto points that freaked Jeff’s cats out, Eddie was giggling into his coffee. The lyrics were so comically bad but they were so Corroded Coffin at the same time.

I wear armour and I am sad. I'm all alone and I am sad.  Such a lone wolf am I.  Except I'm not because here comes this hot man who's totally not my husband. Bats and demons and darkness and death. Bow down to me.  Kneel before me.  I am your master.  This is about sex. Oh, look, a dragon! I'll suck your blood then I'll fuck you through the wall. Except I won't because you're an allegory for my husband again. I'll fuck him instead. Every song involves him in some way. Because I'm a big fucking sap.

And then it happened. That crafty wench.

A message popped up in the chat.

BuckyBirdie: Needs more dick sucking lyrics.

“Holy shit.” Grant whipped out his phone. “R- Birdie? Is that you? Stay right there, hold on.”

While Jeff continued to play through the guitar, Grant disappeared, raising the phone to his ear before coming back a few minutes later and whispering something to Jeff.

Jeff’s whole face split into the most mischievous of smiles and Eddie only had time to think oh no before Robin’s face appeared, joining the stream with a tired if not slightly manic expression, all topped off by her yummy sushi pyjamas.

The first thing Grant said to her was “What fucking time is it over there, Birdie?” 

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down at her watch. “Like half six in the morning?”

“Oh. Could be worse then.”

“I haven’t slept yet.” She said with a bright smile.

“Dude! Why not?”

“I got into cryptography again last night and I haven’t stopped. Don’t tell Steve.”

Oh, I am so telling Steve. Eddie thought to himself.

“God. What a fuckin’ nerd.” Jeff punctuated his statement with a loud strum of his guitar.

Robin stuck her tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch. Right in my middle schooler heart.”

“Anyway, a little birdie told me you boys need some backing vocals?”

Eddie didn’t know how he was going to get her back for this, but he was sure he’d be able to figure something out eventually.

Like banging pots and pans in her hallway while she slept off her cryptography binge.

Though it was almost worth the hilarity because noted lesbian Robin Buckley happily sat there, singing about dick and tongues and assholes in a high ethereal voice that was then layered behind Jeff's.

By the end, the chat was going wild asking when it was going to be available to stream because even though it was a parody song, it was annoyingly catchy. Just before they signed off, Jeff and Grant let their audience know they’d ask Eddie and Gareth for permission before they’d do anything.

Eddie minimised the video and opened up his chat with Gareth.

Eddie: You wanna let them release it?

Gare-Bear: Fuck yeah!

Eddie: Awesome.

[daisyblog]

Love at Wembley

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Harry asks YN to marry him at Wembley.

In the last twelve years, Harry had learnt a lot about YN. He’d learnt that she still needs a cup of tea before bed to fall asleep, or she’s up until the early morning tossing and turning.

He knows she still blasts One Directions and all their solo songs at every opportunity she gets, singing all the words and nagging both Harry and Louis about when they were going to get back together.

Her favourite song to listen to when she’s having a sad day or when she misses her Mum and sister even more is Angels by Robbie Williams.

Louis was her rock, they don’t go a day without talking or at-least texting each other. She doted on him and vice verse and Harry often feared how much she told Louis about their relationship, because if YN was anything shy didn’t cover it.

On the subject of not being shy, their sex life had only grown and got better as they aged. Harry had learnt that her favourite position was between doggy-style or missionary with Harry’s hand around her neck in a loose hold.

Another thing that Harry had learnt was that YN disliked anything that was romantically cringey, like being proposed to in Paris. Her words being “It’s just not special, everyone gets proposed to there” whilst watching a Tik Tok of a couple getting engaged whilst standing near the Eiffel Tower. Harry made a mental note of never proposing in a popular engagement location.

This brings him to this moment where he is walking through London with Louis and Jeff on his way to choose a ring for YN. He’s known for the last twelve years he wanted to marry her. But with fame, touring and losing important people, it never seemed like the right time to pop the question.

As they walk into the store that Harry has been researching for what feels like years. They’re met with more options than they imagined. He thinks back to the day he asked Louis permission to marry YN, because if he wanted anyone’s blessing it was his.

---

They were visiting Doncaster one weekend for the twins birthday and after the busy day of celebrating the twins turning nineteen, with lots of food, family, friends, Louis and Harry had found themselves sitting out in the garden together.

As Louis took a drag from the white stick he held between his fingers, Harry breaks the silence “I..uh…I wanna ask you something”.

Louis tilts his head to look at him and blows the smoke out from his lungs and flicks some ash off his cigarette end before responding “You can ask me anything mate”

Harry nervously turned his rings on his fingers, Louis hadn’t seen him this nervous for a long time. “I wanna ask YN to marry me…and…I guess what I’m trying to ask is for your permission”.

Louis took another long drag from the white stick, before blowing the smoke out in front of him and then scratching his cheek with his thumb and tried his best to keep a serious expression. Harry still anxiously twisting the rings that sat on his fingers.

Letting out a sigh, “All I can say is…it’s about fookin’ time man”, causing both men to look at each other and let out a laugh. “No ‘onestly you have my permission, blessing and whatever else you need”.

---

Bringing Harry back to the moment of where the three men sat in a consultation room, looking at the few options they had chosen. Louis had already said which one he thought YN would love. Jeff stating that YN would say ‘yes’ even if Harry proposed with a Haribo ring.

Harry stared down at the ring that sat delicately in the box in front of him. The small band held a diamond on top with a touch of green. He didn’t understand why Louis would be so adamant that YN would love this one.

“I still don’t understand why you think this is the one” Harry spoke with a tad of stress in his voice, picking up the box that held the ring to study it more.

Louis and Jeff shared a look before Louis let out an annoyed sigh. “Mate…please just listen to me…Lottie literally sent me all the photos of engagement rings that YN has sent to her of the last few years…and guess what they’ve all had a touch of green in them”.

Harry nervously played with his bottom lip with his fingers “Why green..I just don’t kno-“

Interrupting him, Jeff intervened “H..when you look in the mirror..what do you see?”

Harry look at his manager and friend with a scowl, confused by the questions.

“Uh myself” Harry sarcastically replied.

“And what do you look at yourself with?” Louis prompted.

Harry took a moment to think, before he had a lightbulb moment “Uhh..my eyes”. Louis and Jeff stared at him waiting for the moment where it clicked. “My eyes are green”.

“Well done Mate…you got there in the fookin’ end” Louis sarcastically said, earning a nudge from Harry. Harry couldn’t wipe the grin off his face at the new fact he had learnt. YN wanted a green ring to represent the colour of his eyes. How romantic. “She’s romantic and soppy when she wants to be”.

---

Harry wanted the moment to be special but with the last leg of the tour underway it was proving to be difficult. He wanted the moment to be just YN and him, but being on tour it was rare for them to have a moment to themselves.

He debated popping the question whilst he had a show in Coventry, as it was the first show in the UK but something was telling him it just wasn't the right moment. He considered asking her in Paris, but then remembered she hated the thought of it being in a popular location. He began to believe there was no right place, but being inside Wembley Stadium made him realise that this is where it all began for him. If he didn't go to an audition, he wouldn't have met the love of his life.

Anne, Des and Gemma had arrived along with Harry's auntie, uncle and cousins. They all knew Harry had planned to ask YN today, ahead of the show, but the suspence was eating at them.

There was a quiet spell before the opening acts took to the stage. Harry took this as his opportunity "Babe...will you come with me to the stage a second?". Anne and Gemma sent him an excited grin as Teddy was cuddled up on Gemma's lap, knowing this was the moment they had been waiting for, for the last twelve years.

YN followed Harry out to the hallway as they made their way to the stage, Harry's arms slung over her shoulder and the little box discreetly hidden in his short pockets.

As the walked out and took in the empty stadium, before the room was about to be filled, Harry stood behind YN, his arms wrapped around her front resting across her collarbones.

"I'm so proud of you Bubs" YN began as she leaned back into his hold "Four nights in Wembley..you've absolutely fookin' smashed it"

Harry leaned down a pressed a kiss to her cheek "It all started here for me..and to be back just feels so fucking incredible".

"It's crazy to think that if you and Louis didn't audition that year...we wouldn't even know eachother" YN thought out loud, her hands reaching up to hold onto Harry's that were still wrapped around her "Fook...I don't even want to think about that". YN reached in her pocket for her phone "Let's take a photo..I wanna remember this moment".

After YN snapped the selfie of her and Harry, she studied the photo for a second, before turning to show Harry. As she turned, she realised Harry was no longer standing behind her, but knelt down on one knee with a black box in his hand, holding the little ring that was about to be on her finger. Capturing the moment, Lloyd was hiding behind one of the black boxes, positioned to the side of the stage.

For once, YN stood still and speechless. Harry began the speech he had rehearsed in his head for the last few weeks.

"YN..baby..it's been twelve years since I made you mine and my life has never been better...I would love to let you know all the reasons why I love you...I love you because you make me laugh when I needed it most...I love you because you inspire me to be a better person...I love you because you are extremely patient with me during my lowest points...I love you because you are an amazing sister who loves and takes care of your family...I love you because I know you’ll also be a great mother to our children someday...I love you because you have dreams and you’re not afraid to go after it...I love you because you dare to be yourself and own who you are...I love you because of how the light shines each morning together...I love you because of how comfortable silence can be, with you...and most importantly, I love you so much that I’ll want to be with you forever and I hope you’ll say yes. Will you marry me baby?"

Tears flowed down YN's face, Harry had always made her feel loved and wanted but listening to him list all the things he loves about her, was overwhelming. YN leant down and held Harry's cheeks as she kissed him deeply. Lips moving together, YN mumbled "Yes".

Standing up, Harry took the ring from the box and placed it on YN's finger, both admiring the start of their commitment to each other. "You're gonna be Mrs Styles".

"And I can't fookin' wait" YN excitedly announced, before Harry cupped her face and brought her in for another kiss. Their lips together in sync, YN's top lip being squeezed between Harry's as he deepened the kiss and moving his hand to sit at the bottom of her back to pull her even closer.

Pulling apart, but their hands still attached to one another, they couldn't wipe the smiles from their faces. "I love you"

"I love you more...Mrs Styles to be"

liked by louist91, thephoebetomlinson, and 2,543,224 others

yntomlinson and harrystyles Mr and Mrs Styles to be👰🏻‍♀️🤵🏻 View all 15,677 comments

annetwist Congratulations my Darlings ❤️ I can now officially call you my daughter-in-law xx

jefezoff Congratulations Lovebirds!

mitchrowland Congrats guys!

gemmastyles I've finally got a sister 💕 Congratulations to my faves xx

niallhoran Finally!! Will I be bridesmaid or groomsman?😂

louist91 12 years too late!! Happy for you both xx

lottietomlinson I can't wait for the wedding prep! Love you both 🫶🏼🖤

the.daisytomlinson my sis is getting married 🤍

thephoebetomlinson omg! Sooooo excited😆

lloyddddddddddddddddd Congratulations! So glad I got to capture the moment.

pillowpersonpp The dream couple! Congratulations both

bradgouldtraining Yessss! Absolutely buzzing for you both ✌🏼

madidiaz Cuties! Congratulations both❤️

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney fanfictioncafe lilfreakjez jerseygirlinca iamahallucinationnn @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @indierockgirrl @hittiesontour @or-was-it-just-a-dream

[arewedoneyet]

men's folio article via mens-folio.com/my

With buttery vocals, princely features and the penmanship of a lovelorn poet, Jeff Satur is about to sing his way into your heart — one story at a time.

What makes a good story? And what makes a good storyteller? For music savant Jeff Worakamol Satur, these are the two questions that have kept him on his feet the past decade, fuelling his fearless desire to know, love and showcase his most authentic self to the world.

Magnetic in look, sound and craft, Jeff has managed to dabble in multiple genres of music — and play various instruments — without losing his signature, velvety sound. While he did skyrocket to fame portraying Kim on the TV show KinnPorsche: The Series in 2022, Jeff singing its theme song, “Why Don’t You Stay,” was what converted many casual onlookers into full-time Jeff fans (or SATURDAYs). They are now hooked onto his buttery vocals — which not only eloquently and evocatively sing in Thai, English and Chinese — but Jeff is also the very person who produced and wrote the stories in these tracks.

With ancestral roots tracing back to China, India and Italy, it is no wonder that the Phuket native navigates expression and interaction in these vastly different languages without losing their nuances. It is the openness to embrace diversity in cultures and ideas that his fans continue to grow in numbers from all corners of the world.

Since starting his personal studio — Studio On Saturn — at the end of 2022, Jeff has held concerts all over the region, most recently completing his Space Shuttle No. 8 Asia Tour in April to celebrate the release of his first full album. His appearances on music variety shows like China’s Call Me By Fire Season 3 and, most recently, Chuang Asia: Thailand — a Thai idol survival show spin-off based on the Chuang franchise in China — have also appealed to fans in a new way. His hold over both seniors and juniors in the music industry is a testament to the piercing allure he has that transcends age and gender.

Then there is his relationship with Valentino, which comes to a surging point in this interview’s accompanying visuals — each party egging one another in their courageous pursuit of new, creative frontiers.

This is not the end. There is still so much more power that Jeff has yet to harness from stories — which communicate and entertain without the boundaries of time and space, and have decidedly become a grand purpose that he is working to fulfil. From music, the big screen, and finally the horizon, Men’s Folio sits down with the prodigious artiste to discover what makes him tick and perhaps what kind of tale he would charm us into next.

Hi Jeff! How have you been?
I’ve been very good. Fantastic, actually.

We noticed you have said goodbye to your signature long hair. Why did you decide to cut it?
I had to change my hairstyle for a movie I was filming. I also had to change many other things about myself, including how I spoke, reacted and moved — so much so that I had to attend workshops. So, I thought changing my image would help me immerse myself in the role.

Congratulations on completing the Space Shuttle No.8 Asia tour! You have mentioned before that going on a solo tour has been your dream for the longest time — now that both your debut album and solo tour are done, how are you feeling?
It’s a pretty weird feeling — I just want to do more and more. I wanted to tour more and create more songs. It’s a strange feeling to me. It’s more fun to me now, especially since I’ve completed it. It’s like the end of one dream is leading to the start of another.

What is something new about yourself as an artiste or person you learned from going on tour? It must’ve been tiring, but seeing all that support (from guest artistes or close friends attending) must have been very empowering too.
What I’ve learned along the way is to be present with the audience. They give you so many different experiences and learnings from place to place. The show is never the same, even if the song and setting are. Everything is different. For me, I like to be there with them; I give my all and soak in the moment from my fans. Being in the moment without a script really pushed me to be a better artiste, and I believe it made me a better human being.

We have to talk about about your first on-screen mentoring stint on Chuang Asia, especially after that “Dum Dum” performance. How was it like mentoring so many aspiring artistes-to-be at once?
Guiding and mentoring new artistes is a dream that I only just recently realised (I had). It means a lot to be there, to guide and watch these artistes where they are now, doing things they previously couldn’t. I just have so many feelings. I’m so proud. There are many things in the industry that might break you along the way. While I don’t know it all, I hope what I’ve experienced in my career can be, in some way, helpful to them in their journeys. I hope that with my stories, they can break their boundaries and avoid the same traps they might find along the way. I hope that they not only become great artistes but also become better humans, stay positive in the industry, and are able to create and find themselves along the way.

Did this experience help you reflect — in any way — on your artiste career so far? In retrospect, would you redo anything?
It reminded me of my childhood. It was a time when I had so much passion for music, and seeing all the high-intensity passion in them brought me back to that time. It freshened me up. I wouldn’t change anything because I love the way things are now. Changing the past would mean changing the present, and I love where I’m at and what I’m doing right now.

What do you feel is the most important trait that any aspiring performing artiste should have?
Every artiste is different, but all artistes should try to be themselves. For me, I want to be true to myself, to be able to discover my own direction, create my own work, and be brave enough to show that to the world.

What about in a song? Everyone likes to ask questions about your views on music because your personal touch does not escape any part of your music’s creative process — from melody-making, lyric-writing to the final performance. What is your definition of a good song?
“Good” in itself is a subjective word, and a good song, to me, can mean something very different to another. You can love jazz; you can love metal. So long as you’re satisfied with what you have released, be able to listen to it back and forth, and even enjoy that track after 10 years — that’s what I define as a good song.

Regardless of shape or form, good music should always capture the essence of a story, one’s feelings, or who the artiste is at their core.

Does any existing song come to mind? Either one you are proud of or one from an artiste you look up to.
The first song that comes to mind is “Endless Rain” by Yoshiki Hayashi. I’m not too sure if he wrote it when his mom or dad passed away. But it’s a song written with lots of emotion, and it very clearly shows his style of music. It’s just very Yoshiki.

I have many songs that I am proud of — actually, every song. But if I had to pick one, it might be “Dum Dum”. I had a lot of bad feelings bottled inside me when I wrote the song, and I really wanted to release that toxicity from inside of me. It sounds as angry as I felt when I wrote it, so listening back and feeling that anger gives me satisfaction. I think I wrote it in an honest and heartfelt manner that was true to my emotions at the time.

In your previous interview with us, you talked about the different charms (and challenges) that come with writing lyrics in Thai and English. Your debut album has both English originals and English translations of your Thai songs — which song’s story or specific lyrics are you most proud of putting together, and why?
Like I said, I love and am proud of all my songs. But if I had to pick one, it would be “Black Tie”. In that track, I had to relive many memories and feelings. Honestly, even at 29, I still feel like a kid. Until today, I still address everyone around me with “P” — how people in Thailand show respect to those older than them — because l feel I have a lot more growing up to do, and that spirit to learn is still alive inside me.

As a kid, I was always told to do this and that, learn this and study that. In retrospect, those who ended up following these instructions all somehow turned out the same. I really don’t like that. I don’t want all these rules and boundaries to limit who we can be, and who I could be. That’s why I chose to sing about this in “Black Tie”, using the concept of the suit to talk about breaking those boundaries, tying in with the freedom and individuality that the Valentino collection at the time championed and empowered its wearers to embody.

Are there any stories you are looking to tell with your next music release?
It’s a secret. You’ll know when you know.

More on your love for story-telling — which seems to be a common thread that links all the creative works you have released so far together — what do you think makes a good story?
All stories are worth telling, even those without a happy ending. What makes a good story is how you tell it. Capturing the essence or feeling of the story and delivering that to the listeners is more important. You know it’s good if the listeners can experience the story with you,

You mentioned in an interview that if you were not an artiste today, you would be a writer. These days, it is hard to have an original voice, yet yours (both literal and figurative) is quite luminous in its own way. How do you maintain that voice despite all the noise?
I don’t think an original voice is something that can be created. An original voice can only come from trusting your instincts, being honest in your work, and staying truthful to your feelings. Only then can you create work that represents you. You should never lie to yourself.

And more importantly, never lose that kid inside of you. That’s who is creating the all the art, instead of you.

More importantly, how do you rest? Are there any go-to activities (or non-activities) you like to do to return to yourself and rest your voice?
I actually have a lot of time to rest. Then again, I also don’t feel like my work encompasses “working”. It’s also my vacation. Sure, even when I’m actually on vacation, I have to think about work. But I don’t mind it; I love what I do.

If we’re talking about physical rest, I prioritise resting my voice. I used to sing during my free time, but I try not to use it that often now to be ready when I actually have to sing. I think it’s important to know how to control and use my voice in the right way.

For those who are only discovering your music today, can you compile a three-track introduction to Jeff Satur’s playlist and explain why?
“Dum Dum”, “Fade”, and “Loop”. “Dum Dum” shows my darker side because it’s a release of some pent-up frustration and anger. “Fade” is more romantic — it shows you how I experience love and what I am like in a relationship, and I try to tell that story in a more emotional and evocative manner. Then we have “Loop”, a more introspective exploration of who I am. Listening to these three songs will give you a good idea of the breadth of my personality and style as an artiste.

In recent years, you have been bolder with your style. How would you describe your current relationship with fashion? Has it changed over the years?
I think fashion is about doing what you love, wearing what you love, and enjoying what you see in the mirror. Every morning before I go out, I feel like I should love what I see in the mirror — regardless of what other people think. Your body is a canvas, and whatever colour or pattern you choose to put on yourself that day is a form of self-expression you should enjoy.

Over the years, I’ve definitely become more confident about trying on things out of my comfort zone. I used to be scared of wearing certain things because of what others might think, but I’m no longer as shy. I’m just breaking one boundary at a time.

What values of Maison Valentino does Jeff Satur — the artiste — embody?
I think Valentino and I have many things in common. Fundamentally, we both embrace the act of constant reinvention and enjoy the challenge of finding new ground, and there’s no better expression of this chemistry and kindred spirit than the soundtrack I created with and for Valentino. The brand is quite sentimental and romantic, and my body of work doesn’t stray far from these sensibilities — especially if you listen to the three tracks I mentioned earlier. A valiant kind of courage persists throughout, and I feel like that syncs up nicely with what Valentino stands for as a brand.

What is next on your cards? Will we get to sees Jeff Satur, the actor again soon?
Without a doubt. In fact, more and more because actor Jeff Satur is an important part of me, and there are a lot of upcoming projects that I’m passionate about and very excited to share with the world.

Last but not least, you have said before that any interaction or activities you do for SATURDAYs feels like an everlasting dream. Is there anything you want to say to your fans right now?
Always be happy. Yes, sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes the world isn’t as beautiful as the ones we read about in our favourite fairytales. Focus on the good and avoid the bad. Surround yourself with good people. Never give up on yourself. You’re beautiful, you’re great, and you’re you — and no one else can do what you do. Even I can’t do what you do. Everybody has something unique they can do. Appreciate and love what you do. Follow your dreams, and I’ll follow mine. Someday, we’ll sing together again.

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- On The Road Again Tour Pt2

Part 49

2015

5th June- Cardiff

After a little break we’re back on tour again. We just finished up our show in Cardiff and are now on the way to the airport to head to Austria for our next show

“I’ve been thinking” I say with my head on Harry’s shoulder

“Oh no” he mutters jokingly. I give him a nudge “ow”

“That didn’t hurt” I roll my eyes at him and lift my head up

“You weren’t the one nudged in the ribs with an elbow”

“Your such a baby” I laugh knowing Harry is only messing with me

“What were you thinking about?” Niall asks getting me back to what I was originally going to say

“Since we spoke about going on a hiatus after this year, I’ve been thinking that I would like to release an album. I’m not sure about going on tour or anything but an album would be kinda nice”

“I could speak to Jeff for you if you’d like. See what strings he could pull for you” Harry says seriously

“That would be great. I also have one more thing”

“What?” Liam asks nervously

“I want you all to help me with the album. With the lyrics and even the music if possible. I still want a part of you guys on the album in some way, I dunno maybe it will help me to actually want to release it”

“Well I guess once we’re on the plane we should get started then”

—

“Ok how does this sound, I hate to spoil the end, but the guy don’t get the girlfriend and Romeo’s a pathological narcissist, so send my love to Juliet” I sing while we’re sat on the plane

“I love it. Then you could go back into the pre-chorus” Liam says taking my notebook “I also like what you’ve written here, don’t want my love so kiss me goodbye like mwah, I think that could work in this song”

9th July- San Diego

“Guess who just text me?” I say to the boys walking into their changing room

“Liam?” Louis guesses

“Nope” I shake my head “James. As in my first boyfriend James”

“James who cheated on you with a guy?” Harry frowns

“The one and only”

“What did he want?” Liam asks putting a shirt on

“He wanted to get back together”

“What?” Nialls eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head

“Yup”

“What did you tell him?” Harry asks

“No of course. But part of me wishes I could break his heart right back”

“Maybe you can” Louis says with a mischievous grin “write a song about it. He will know it’s about him, but no one else will he will be embarrassed”

“Will you help?”

“Course we will” Harry smiles

26th July- Minneapolis

August

One Direction Members Confirm Break

25th August 2015

One Direction are going to take their first break next year since getting together on The X Factor in 2010.

According to a report in The Sun, the group are going their separate ways in March after the release of their fifth studio album.

Apparently Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan want to concentrate on solo projects, although there's been no confirmation yet from the boys. However YN YLN tease an Instagram photo before deleting it quickly afterwards. She then announced earlier this week through Twitter that she is currently writing an album with the support of Harry, Liam, Niall and Louis.

There'll be no tour for the band's fifth album and their last full concert will be at Sheffield's Motorpoint Arena on 31 October at the moment. The group will have a break over Christmas before getting back together to finish promoting their new album in February.

[dreamwatch]

We Gotta Get Out Of This Place

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest June warm-up round.

Prompt: Band on the run | Word Count: 997 | Rating: M | CW: Language, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol | POV: Eddie | Tags: Crack treated seriously?, Freak is getting freaky and upsetting the locals, banter, they're idiots | AO3

*I wasn't going to share this one but screw it. This is what happens when you ask your husband for ideas.

****

Eddie has a love-hate relationship with touring. 

He’s living the dream, playing their songs, to their fans. He loves seeing new countries, places he could only dream of as a kid. The band have been to three continents so far, not counting the one they live in. Gareth grandly announced he was going to play all seven. Eddie wished him luck on his solo tour of Antarctica and it was never mentioned again.

The things he hates? The actual travelling. Being away from Steve and Wayne. And hangovers. He really hates hangovers, and something about the travel just makes them worse. They hit harder and last longer. Or maybe that’s just tequila. He fucking hates tequila. But he’s in Mexico so when in Rome… or well, when in Mexico City anyway…

The other thing he hates? Assholes banging on his door in the middle of the fucking night! They played a show last night, an amazing, hot sweaty mess of a show, and he ached and ached because he’s not twenty anymore (and parts of him still hurt for reasons he can’t talk to the band about). But he’s weak and he let himself get dragged along to some bar by the band and some of the crew. And then he got dragged to another bar, saying good night to Jeff and a couple of roadies. And then he was doing the dragging and honestly, after the third bar, he couldn’t tell you where, when or who he was with. Because tequila is the drink of satan and should be banned on all seven of those continents Gareth wants so badly to play.

So he stumbles out of bed, way too fast considering he’s only been in it for about an hour and he’s only one step away from blind drunk, tossing bed clothes on the floor.

“Whoever the fuck this is,” he bellows, tripping over a discarded boot, “you better be dying!” He wrenches the door open and Jeff barges past him into the room, Gareth on his heels with their bags.

“The fuck is going on?” he asks, spinning so fast he has to grab the edge of the door to keep himself upright.

Gareth goes to the bathroom and Eddie can see him in the reflection throwing all his toiletries into a bag, while Jeff grabs Eddie’s duffle from the floor and throws everything he can see into it.

“Hello!” he claps his hands, “Am I invisible right now?”

Gareth throws the toiletry bag into the duffle and grabs Eddie’s jeans and boots from the floor. “We’re leaving,” he says, kneeling to the floor in front of Eddie, “Leg up.” 

“What the fuck—”

“Leg! Up! Now!” 

He swats at them. “I can dress myself, assholes.”

“We don’t have two hours for you to hop around getting your drunk ass into your jeans, dude.”

He holds onto Gareth’s shoulders because he really is going to fall over in a minute, but he dutifully raises his legs one by one. Once the jeans are on and pulled up to his waist, Jeff pushes him back on the bed so that they can put his boots on, each taking a foot. All Eddie can do is watch in a stupor as they each tie a set of laces. 

“Why am I even getting dressed, what the fuck is going on, man?”

Jeff jumps up and does a last sweep of the room before turning back to Eddie, hands on his hips. Like Steve. If he wasn’t so tired and pissed off (and drunk) he’d laugh at that.

“Because Matt had a threesome last night—“ Jeff starts.

Eddie’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. “With people?”

“With the sister and fiance of some local drug lord.”

Woah, woah, woah. He straightens up. “Wait… his sister is his fiance?”

“Jesus Christ,” moans Gareth. “No. Matt hooked up with the sister. And then he hooked up with his fiance. And now we’re all about to be fucked unless we get out of Mexico tonight.”

“Wait,” he mumbles, brain finally kicking into gear. “Drug lord?” Jeff and Gareth nod back. “Oh shit. Yeah, that’s not good. We should go.”

“Finally!” says Jeff.

“So where’s Matt?”

Gareth grabs Eddie’s duffle along with his own. “Phil grabbed him and ran, hopefully they’re at the airport getting tickets on the first flight out of Mexico.”

Okay, if he was with their manager, then he was probably fine. Right? Right.

They charge down the hallway, meeting some of the crew at the elevator, and when they make it downstairs they’re waved out to a waiting taxi.

Eddie burps ominously, he feels like absolute shit.

“Matt is fucking dead, I swear it.”

Jeff looks horrified. “Dude, don’t joke about that until we’re in US airspace. Please.”

Good point. He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, letting his heart rate return to normal. They all sit in silence for a while.

“Is it just me that’s kind of impressed?” Eddie can’t help himself, it’s just that Matt is so… secretive. “I mean, when was the last time he let us meet anyone?”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “We’re not his parents, dude. He doesn’t have to bring them home for dinner.”

Jeff scoffs, “Well maybe we should put that in his contract. I’d rather not have to run from drug barons in the middle of the goddamn night.”

When they get to the airport Phil tells them they’re booked on a flight to Houston. Matt is sitting there wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap, standing out a mile.

“Houston?” cries Jeff. “What the fuck, Phil?”

“You can blame this asshole for that,” he gestures at Matt. “ It was Houston or Vancouver, or wait for scary men with guns to kidnap your bass player.”

Eddie stumbles over to Matt, snatching the glasses off his face. “You! No more women. Ever!”

And before Matt can open his mouth he adds “And no men either!”

[foxes-that-run]

Do you think Taylor had people in her ear telling her not to get back with Harry back in 2014? I feel like Scott would be one of the people to advise her not to get back with him. Seems like a lot of people were trying to come in between them and keep them separated.

There’s quite a few hints that something did happen at the start of 2014, in his post is why it seems that Harry wrote the lyrics to JALBOYH in the same studio at the same time that Style was recorded.

Tree started working with Taylor June 2014, her previous publicist had a falling out with her family and had a very different approach to marketing Taylor. Taylor had been incredibly accessible to fans and so then also people who were not fans. Tree positioned Taylor has a more mature and less accessible, bigger star. When 1989 promo started in September 2014 Taylor said “how long till your publicist calls to say this isn’t a good idea”. MH 1.0 and Harry’s mermaid tattoo were 2 months after that quote. By January 2015 Haylor was over and Tayvin started the next month.

My theory is that it was probably a combination of dating Harry when 1989 came out was not a great idea for the narrative of the album, one direction was also on tour then and in the next year, so maybe it was never committed for that reason. Harry has said “touring is hard” about relationships and I bet those tours were very hard for someone who couldn’t follow and the directioners were horrible. I’m not a fan of her dad but I kind of blame their respective careers for that time.

[scoops-aboy86]

♠️♥️Famous Rockstar Eddie leaving the spotlight mysteriously and going off the radar for the next 10 years. Unbeknownst to the world, it was because he broke up with his then secret boyfriend Steve Harrington. Steve wanted to settle down, Eddie wanted to play for the world. The love never left but they both had dreams they wanted to pursue. Then very randomly he's spotted by paparazzi with a cute hubby, a wedding band on his finger, and 100lbs more than he had 10 years ago, enjoying brunch like he wasn't quote unquote "missing" to the public. 😂

Aww. I’m picturing a mostly amiable breakup… They’re both bummed to do it, but Eddie wants to leave and Steve wants to stay. It’s the 80’s, so no cell phones, no email… Much harder to keep up a long distance relationship. Both of them feel like they’re setting the other free. 

~

Cut to ten years later. Corroded Coffin made it big, and they’re coming up on the end of a tour that they’ve already said will be their last public appearance in a while. Gareth has a fiancé he wants to settle down with, Jeff is already married with a kid on the way, and Freak is thinking about going back to school for… something, he hasn’t decided what yet. 

Eddie is toying with the idea of doing a solo album or something, nothing big, but music is his life. It’s basically what he replaced Steve with after the breakup. He’s maybe leaned into food a little, especially during tours, but mostly burns it off with his on-stage antics. Over the years, he’s stuck pretty exclusively to hookups and situationships, nothing serious. As long as he has his music, everything’s fine. 

Which is why he’s dreading the end of the tour. After the second to last concert, right after they get to the next city, he does something he doesn’t usually do: he goes out and gets fucked up. (He saw what drugs and alcohol did to his parents when he was little and things were starting to fall apart, and No Thank You, but. It’s not bad if he only does it once, right? It’s fine.) 

The city happens to be Chicago. Eddie goes out, accepting just about anything anyone hands him like a moron… and wakes up having blacked out on everything except the vague impression of pop music blasted too loud for even his concert-hardened ears. The bed he’s in is comfortable in a very not-hotel-room sort of way and smells like the essence of a warm hug. He burrows into the blankets and pillows on the principle that maybe if he snuggles in deep enough he can hide from the raging hangover. 

It doesn’t work, of course, and a few minutes later he drags himself across the room on all fours to hurl his guts out into a waste basket. Which turns out not to have a liner. Oops. 

That’s when the door opens, and a mildly exasperated voice says, “Eds, seriously? I left you a bucket on your side of the bed.”

Blearily, Eddie turns and sees, of all people, Steve Harrington. Standing there in a yellow sweater and both hands on his hips like a blast from the goddamn past. He’s still handsome, still has the amazing hair, and the glasses he’s wearing lend a new kind of adult-ness to his face that hadn’t been there when he was twenty. He looks good. 

Eddie, meanwhile, feels like a stepped-on cockroach. It’s not fair. 

“Woke up facing this way,” Eddie rasps, but his heart leaps at the way Steve says your side. Like it’s still his. And it’s true, he does still prefer the left side of the bed, despite usually sleeping alone. “How are you… here? Where am I?”

Steve brings him a glass of water. “This is my apartment, I’ve been here for about three years now. I brought you here last night after you propositioned me because, and I quote, ‘You look just like the love of my fucking life that I walked away from like the dumbest idiot alive, wanna fuck and maybe marry me if my dick’s good enough? I’m kind of rich and famous, I could write so many songs about your eyes.’”

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie takes a sip of water, feeling like he might throw up again from embarrassment. “Did we…?”

“Nah, you passed out practically before finishing that second sentence. I carried you here to sleep it off, and answered your cell when Jeff called to check on you.” Steve, helping Eddie stand up at this point and guiding him back to the bed, raises an eyebrow. “He was extremely thorough in explaining that you don’t usually do things like this.”

Eddie groans. “Fuck… Is he sending a car or something? We’ve got a concert in… in… soon.”

“Two days,” Steve fills in easily. “Don’t worry, you have time to recover. I’ve made breakfast, if you think you can stomach it.”

Groaning again, Eddie face-plants into the pillows and realizes that wonderful scent is Steve and that’s why it was so nice when he first woke up. That smell still means home to him, even after a decade apart. “No, can’t do cereal and pop tarts right now.”

Steve snorts. “Excuse you, but one of us has learned to cook over the years and Jeff assured me it wasn’t you. There’s bacon, eggs, pancakes, and fresh strawberries. Vanilla ice cream in the freezer, too, if that still helps settle your stomach.”

“…It might,” Eddie mutters into the pillow. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you’re ready, there’s clothes at the end of the bed, and Advil and more water on the desk. I’m just going to, uh, take this basket out to the dumpster.”

Sorry, Eddie bites on his tongue to avoid saying. He’s just now realizing that he’s stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, which, like. Doesn’t even show off the coolest of his new tattoos. Not that that’s important, fuck, but it’s the first thing his hungover brain spits out about the whole situation other than, you know. 

The fact that he randomly ran into The Ex of All Time while so loaded he doesn’t even remember it happening. And Steve is acting like this is just normal even though they haven’t even been in contact for years. 

Eddie falls asleep while freaking out about this, and feels marginally more human by the time he wakes up. The clothes Steve left him are… Christ, it’s one of his old Metallica shirts, and the sweatpants that were technically Steve’s that Eddie had always stolen to sleep in, back when they were together. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Stumbles his way out of the room to a bathroom, noticing along the way that the couch has a pile of folded blankets at one end. Because Steve probably slept there instead of his own bed. 

“Coffee?” Steve asks when Eddie finally puts in an appearance in the kitchen, passing him a mug that’s already doctored exactly the way he likes it. Eddie takes it and sips cautiously, but his stomach seems to have settled now and nothing bad happens, so he takes a longer, grateful gulp. 

The food is still waiting for him, kept warm in the oven with tin foil over the plates and heat set to low. Eddie sits down and feels something well up in his chest, in his eyes, at the first bite of scrambled eggs; it’s like eating clouds, they’re so damn fluffy. 

“‘S good,” he mumbles through a full mouth, then swallows and turns his tired eyes towards Steve. “I… I didn’t even know you’d moved to Chicago.”

Steve gives him an amused smile. “It wasn’t exactly news worthy of Rolling Stone, dude. Don’t worry about it.”

“Kinda have to,” Eddie mumbles, and jams bacon in his mouth. “I mean, I—Holy fuck, Steve, this is good. Are you a chef or something?”

The smile turns sheepish. “Sort of. It’s a long story, but I kinda teach cooking classes now? It’s a program for teens and preteens who’ve had trouble at home or with the law and need, like, better outlets that are also practical life skills. Robin’s girlfriend hooked me up, she teaches yoga and self-defense stuff at the same place.”

“Wow.” Eddie stares blankly at him for a second, before physically shaking off the surprise and looking back down at his plate. Steve had spent the past decade learning new skills and helping kids, whereas Eddie has written songs about sex, drugs, rock and roll, and… Steve’s eyes. “That’s great, Steve. You sound really happy.”

Because he does. And Eddie feels really, really bad about barreling accidentally back into Steve’s life, probably throwing a huge monkey wrench into it since there’s no way a guy this handsome and this good and this fantastic in the kitchen isn’t seeing anyone. He’d be snatched up in a second by any discerning man or woman with, like, eyes and a heart and taste buds. Which is what Steve deserves, really. He deserves someone who won’t run off at the first whiff of potential fame and fortune somewhere he can’t follow. 

“I do alright,” Steve replies modestly. 

“I’ll replace your waste basket,” Eddie blurts out. Because Steve deserves someone who doesn’t ever get fucked up enough to puke in and ruin his stuff, even if it’s not something he does regularly. “And, this is great, really, thank you for breakfast, but I should get out of your hair. I’m… sorry for ambushing you last night, or whatever it was I did, I can’t even remember—”

His hand is clenched around his fork so tight that his knuckles have gone pale, and he almost jolts out of his chair when Steve puts a hand over it, massaging his grip into loosening slightly. “First of all, I got that thing at Costco,” Steve informs him. “It’s not a big deal. Second, you didn’t ambush me. I mean, I was surprised, for sure, but… it was nice to hear that I’m still the love of your life.” Steve gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Really nice, Eds. And third, you didn’t exactly walk away. You asked me to come with you, I was the one who wasn’t ready to leave Hawkins then. We agreed, remember?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He feels like careening back into Steve’s orbit now must count as some sort of violation of that agreement, or something… and yet Steve is still holding his hand. 

“I actually…” Steve hesitates, looking unexpectedly shy for someone who Eddie must be bothering. Then, instead of finishing the sentence, he lets go of Eddie’s hand to pull something from his back pocket and lay it on the table.

It’s a ticket. A VIP meet and greet pass for the Corroded Coffin concert in two days. 

“Everybody pitched in and got this for my birthday,” he says sheepishly. “They went on presale on the exact day, Dustin kept saying it was a sign.”

Eddie, who’s never paid much attention to ticket sales in general, much less the dates they become available, can only stare at it. His throat feels tight knowing that he would’ve seen Steve anyway, that it could’ve happened while he was riding the adrenaline high of performing instead of feeling like roadkill freshly scraped off the asphalt. 

“Which, if it was a sign, I’m guessing it wasn’t on purpose, since you didn’t even know I live out here now,” Steve continues. “But, well, they got it, and… I told Robin I wasn’t sure if I’d go, but I knew from the second I opened the envelope it was a done deal.”

“What about… A-aren’t you seeing anyone?” Eddie asks. He remembers, in wistful, rosy detail, Steve being in his element as a boyfriend. Knows that he loves having someone to share everything with, to learn through and through, to kiss and murmur I missed you even if it’s only been an hour, even when it wasn’t safe for two guys to do that openly in small town Indiana and he’d had to limit himself to a fleeting touch and saying it with his eyes. 

“No.” Steve shrugs. “I tried putting myself out there on and off, but there was never enough of a spark to make it past three or four dates. I always knew you were it for me, Eddie, even if we never got another chance. And this…” He taps the concert ticket. “I was going to ask if you wanted one, because god knows I’d give it to you. You don’t have to answer now, because going by how you look you must feel like crap—”

“Oh fuck you, dude.” Never one to sit stoically through Steve’s teasing, Eddie groans and hides a grudging you’ve got me there smile behind a handful of his own hair. 

Steve grins. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding or looking sorry at all. 

Which is where they leave it, for now. Eddie finishes his breakfast, clearing his plate and dishing up seconds because once he starts eating in earnest his stomach settles and he’s starving, and it’s all so good. And it’s not like they’re magically back together—Steve had slept on the couch instead of in the bed with him, they haven’t been close enough to share so much as a meal and conversation like this for ten years, but it’s a start. A chance to get to know each other again, see if they still fit. 

~

Fast forward another ten years. Eddie’s solo career is doing well but he doesn’t do public appearances, got all of his recording done at home in his private studio. He’s pretty much a homebody, which surprised some of the people who know him but not the ones that know him well. 

Steve still has the same job, not because he needs to work but because he loves it. He’s also Eddie’s de facto private chef, and he loves that too. 

But he’s not cooking today, because it’s their anniversary and Eddie is dead set on painting the town red. “Of course I still want to,” Eddie assures him again, nuzzling sleepily up against his unofficial husband (they’re holding out until it becomes legal in either Illinois or Indiana, whichever comes first) when Steve wakes him and asks if he’s still sure about their brunch reservations. “I want to take you out and show you off. Remember how I promised you how rich and famous I am and how cool that would be?”

Steve huffs in amusement, leaning into the nuzzling. “First of all, it was more of a statement than a promise. The actual promise was to write so many songs about my eyes. Second of all, you don’t remember that.”

“Kept the promise either way, didn’t I?” Eddie nips at his collarbone, bare because Steve never was one for sleeping with a shirt on, even when the weather turns cold. “I’ve written songs about your eyes, your smile, this ass…” He grabs at it with a little growl, leaning more of his weight onto Steve to reach and enjoying the way his sweetheart happily squirms. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Steve sighs. “But we could still stay in… have breakfast in bed…” His own hands find Eddie’s love handles and settle there. “Not have to get dressed.”

“Nope.” Eddie props himself up on one thick arm and kisses him on the nose. Then yawns hugely. “It’s about time I get some fresh air, and I’m taking you out, baby.”

So Steve crawls out of bed, fetching Eddie the clothes he asks for and gamely taking suggestions for his own outfit—though he anticipates every article with a smirk, starting to grab each hanger before the words are fully past Eddie’s lips. Jeans that are just a little on the tight side and highlight the ass that Eddie so loves to grab (and sing about grabbing, the horny lovesick goblin man), a t-shirt that shows off his muscles and broad shoulders (because he may be turning forty next month but he takes damn fine care of his body), and the leather jacket from Eddie’s Corroded Coffin days that no longer fit their original owner. 

Because Eddie, who loves Steve’s food, has put on at least a hundred pounds in the past decade,maybe more. Most of it has gone to his belly, but he’s pretty round and soft all over—except his ass, for some reason, which is his excuse for how much attention he regularly bestows on Steve’s. 

That’s not why he’s stayed out of the public eye for so long though. It’s more because he got his fill of being a rock star, being recognized everywhere he goes, being photographed all the time and known for his wild antics. He’d wanted that when he was younger, so badly, needed the accolades and acknowledgement as someone who hadn’t gotten a lot of that as a child. But that rock star life took him away from Steve for so long, which he both regrets and doesn’t because it all worked out in the end. He’d been in it just as much for being able to make and share his music, too, which he can still do, so he’s happy. Happy and so, so in love. 

Their day is back to back reservations at various restaurants, all selected by Eddie because of dishes he knows that Steve will want to try and recreate at home. “Inspiration for your craft,” Eddie tells him with a wink, his own cheeks pink and grin lazy with the pleasure of overindulgence. 

Pictures are taken, more by cell phones than paparazzi because it’s the 2000’s now (not long before the Supreme Court of California issues a finding that allows that state to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses out on the West Coast, and Steve and Eddie fly out for Robin’s backyard wedding). They circulate the internet, with thousands of people weighing in on whether that really is Eddie Munson, the “missing” front man from Corroded Coffin. There are comparisons between old photos and these new ones, in depth analyses that range from “he wouldn’t get that fat” to “wow he really let himself go” to “looks like he’s living his best life.”

Eddie and his sweetheart—who is a total unknown except to some of the kids at the program who see the pictures and flip out because since when is Mr. Harrington so close with a famous metal guitarist omg, he’s so lame with all his sweater vests and dad jokes—remain unaware and unbothered as Steve helps Eddie tuck his already full belly back into his pants, get him all zipped up again, and leave brunch for their next stop. 

And they have a very lovely day.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @tangerinesteve @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax

[uglypastels]

Corroded Coffin, The Game of Lost Souls (1993)

Love them or hate them, there is no escaping Corroded Coffin. With chart toppers that occupy each radio in the country and controversies following them left and right, good luck finding someone who is not talking about the band these days. But what do the rockers have to say for themselves? To find out, our editors sat down for a conversation with Jeff, Eddie, Gareth and Dougie, spanning all topics from their upcoming new album, The Game of Lost Souls (available in your local record stores this month), to hopes for the future as well as a look back on their previous hits and falls + much much more!

I'm glad everyone could finally join us here, and I'm sure this question has been on your minds since then, so why not get it out of the way? What exactly happened at the AMAs?

J.P. - Boooo [laughs]. C'mon, next question.

The people demand answers, boys. It is, after all, not often that a broadcast gets shut down like it did that day.

E.M. - People demand entertainment. They want scandal and drama. They jump to conclusions and get angry about it, but the second they know and it turns out not to follow the narrative they dreamt up, they'll be just as angry.

But you can't say the same about the hotel room incident last month that was all over the glossy pages; it was all just a dreamt-up narrative by the tabloids, can you?

E.M. - Oh, no. That was completely my fault. But no worries, I paid for the damage.

I'm sure our readers will be happy about that. Then, let's move on to something you can talk about: the new album. How was it getting back in the studio for a third time? Were you nervous?

D.T. - You can say that. After Cryptic we doubted we'd ever set a foot back in there.

Because it wasn't as successful as you had hoped?

D.T. - Yeah, sure. [...] It was tough to get back to the right mindset. It's what helped make our first album what it is, but chasing that sort of high only sets you further back, and it took us a while to realise that.

So, what's different now? Why do you think it will work this time.

E.M. - We don't! As an artist, making something and putting it out there in the world is the biggest gamble you can make. All we can do is hope for the best and that it won't blow up in our --- faces.

But are you happy with the result you're bringing out? Proud?

J.P. - Abso----lutely. We've learned from our mistakes, taken all the feedback we could get without wanting to shoot our bloody brains out, and made the music we wanted to make.

G.R. - Yeah, we're back on our regular bullshit, baby, and I think the fans will see that too.

Any tracks you're most excited for people to listen to? And why?

G.R. - I think the people who sent me all those letters- if you know you know- last year will really enjoy "Scream for Initiative", especially the bridge.

D.T. - "Decade" and "The High Cliff" are great. They might be something new for us, but I think the fans will enjoy them.

E.M. - I would suggest everyone to put "Kneel and Pray" on their next sex mixtape, at least if you're into that kind of freaky shit. And yead, can't wait for everyone to hear "The High Cliff." I think we pulled off something great with that one.

J.P. - For me, it would have to be the title track, man. It just pulls everything together on the album. I got to go all out on the solo, which is always great fun. I definitely can't wait to play that one on tour.

Speaking of a tour, there had been speculation that there might not be one, but that is not true?

G.R -. I would like to think that there would be a tour no matter what we do because performing our music is why we do it and put up with everything else. But at the end of the day, there is much more to it than just us, and sometimes it doesn't go as planned, but the will is definitely there.

E.M. - I beg people to stop reading all this shit- except Black Market, of course - you're not gonna get anything good out of it. if you want fantasy, go read The Hobbit.

J.P. - It is pretty exhausting to walk past a newsstand and see that every cover and headline is another made-up story about you.

I'm sure it is, what's the weirdest one you saw come up?

J.P. - They're not all that bad. I like the ones where it turns out I'm secretly dating supermodels and actresses. It's nice to know that the public at least thinks I have some game.

D.T. - That's because the person who makes up those rumours has never met you. If they had, they'd come to their senses.

G.R. - I liked the one that suggested that Eddie made out with a dog.

E.M. - Yeah, I think they mistook your mom for it.

Let's keep it nice, boys.

E.M. - Sorry, sorry. [laughs]

[rest of the interview not found]

- the Corroded Coffin Archive (Source: Black Market Magazine)

[shadowland]

Emmylou Harris interview by Cameron Crowe Rolling Stone, June 19, 1975

Fame Catches Up with Emmylou

Los Angeles – Guitar in hand, Gram Parsons sat in his road manager’s Laurel Canyon home and coached singer Emmylou Harris through the harmonies of the old Burritos classic, “Sin City.” Later, after she’d excused herself for a visit to the kitchen, Parsons grinned proudly. “There she is,” he said, “that’s my kick in the ass, keep an eye on her.”

That was in 1973. Now, two years later, Harris’s first major solo effort, Pieces of the Sky, has done well and her current club and concert tour (augmented by a band featuring Elvis’s guitarist James Burton and his keyboard player Glen D. Hardin) is drawing unanimous raves. But Emmylou Harris, it seems, is the last to catch up with Emmylou Harris. Still a bit dazed over Parsons’s untimely death in the fall of ’73, the 28-year-old singer is only now waking up to the reality of a successful solo career.

“I know what’s happening but it hasn’t really hit me yet,” she drawls softly, curled up on the sofa of a West Hollywood hotel room. Two nights earlier, she’d enthralled a capacity Palomino Club audience that included such luminaries as Bonnie Raitt, Maria Muldaur, Lowell George, Commander Cody, Joni Mitchell and Linda Ronstadt (for whose recent country hit, “I Can’t Help It” Harris provided the strong counter harmony). “I guess it’s just been a kind of long hard road. In a way I’ve been at this for almost ten years on almost all kinds of levels – from waiting tables to playing in New York clubs and not having anybody listen to me, to making a terrible first record for a bankrupt company to working with Gram.

“I suppose working with Gram was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me,” she continues. “There was just something very magical about the experience. It was so much fun to just get up there, sing with him, and not worry about carrying a show myself. Everyone paid all this attention to me and told me how good I was and all that. It was really like being some kind of fairytale princess. Somehow that affected me more than all this that’s happening now.” She lets her words settle for a moment, then decides on a quip. “Maybe I’m on time delay.”

Born in Alabama and raised in Virginia, Harris remembers a reputation of being a “real prig” in high school. “I was considered to be a kind of oddball. You know, always studying and making good grades. Singing began as a social thing. I realized when I started singing at parties people began noticing me. High schools are real hip now, everybody’s cool, but there was a counter-culture in Woodbridge, Virginia, in 1963. You were either a homecoming queen or  a real weirdo. Here I was a 16-year-old Wasp, wanting to quit school and become Woody Guthrie.”

Instead, Harris made it to the University of North Carolina on a drama scholarship. Using free time to play off-campus bars in a folk duo, she lasted a year and a half before applying to the more prestigious drama department at Boston University. “I was gonna work as a waitress in Virginia Beach for a while to get enough tuition money,” she recalls. “But there was an incredible little music scene going on down there. That’s when I got serious about singing.”

Harris never made it to Boston U. “I thought I was going to get married. My first big love below up in my face, so I just went to New York ’cause there was nothing else to do. I was greener than green. I got a room at the YWCA, started going to the Village, playing basket houses [pass-the-hat-clubs] and just . . . hangin’ out.”

In two years of scuffling around New York, Emmylou made some valuable friends like singers Jerry Jeff Walker and David Bromberg. “Besides turning me on to country music, they sort of looked out for me,” she says. “Even so, I must have had some protective kind of bubble around me. I used to walk home from gigs on dark streets at two in the morning with my guitar and never think anything of it. Looking back, I get scared to death.”

Harris’s first album (on the now defunct Jubilee records), recorded in New York just after her marriage, is one she’d like to forget. “I was trying to keep it a secret,” she laughs (ironically, since the 1970 release was titled Emmylou Harris). “I hope somebody in authority will be able to buy the masters and burn them. Everybody involved with that record hated everybody else and I was in the middle trying to keep the peace. It was a disaster.”

Several months after recording, “the worst possible thing any girl could ever do to her budding career” happened. Harris became pregnant with her child, Hallie. “Up until then,” she admits, “my life had been a little too nebulous, I had no clear vision at all. The pregnancy, although it wasn’t planned, gave me something very real and something present to relate to.”

Later, with her marriage broken and ten dollars in her pocket, the protectiveness of motherhood, soon drove Harris out of New York. “I didn’t know where I was gonna go, but I knew I had to get a job and make some money. By accident I got back into music through some friends, Billy and Kathy Danoff [writers of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’]. They were still living in their basement apartment with all the cockroaches running around. They were the ones that put a guitar in my hands and ordered me onstage again.”

It was early ’71 when Flying Burrito Brothers guitarist Rick Roberts stumbled onto Harris performing in a small Washington D.C. bar called the Red Fox. The next night, Roberts brought the rest of the Burritos down for a look. They invited her to join the band; before she could accept, the Burritos had dissolved.

“Chris Hillman,” Emmylou remembers, “wanted to come out to L.A. so he could produce some demo tapes. He was really busy at the time. Anyway, I think it probably worked out the way it should have.” The way it worked out was for Hillman to turn on Gram Parsons, the Burritos’ long estranged cofounder, to their incredible discovery. Months later, Parson dropped in on one of Harris’s many D.C appearances and made a few vague promises. A year later, Parsons invited her to L.A. to sing on his first solo album, GP. Their partnership quickly intensified. “It was gonna be a Dolly Parton-Porter Wagoner situation. We didn’t see any need to break up that partnership because we really got higher on what we did together than anything we did separately. I still feel that way.”

It was hard work, she says, that kept her from slipping into an extended depression. “Gram’s death was like falling off a mountain. It was a very hard year between his death and the recording of my album [Pieces of the Sky]. A year of throwing myself into a lot of work that my heart wasn’t really into. There was a lot of stumbling involved. I was playing quite a few bars and was in a real vulnerable position. People felt that they could come up and ask me anything. I used to get hostile. It  hurt. I didn’t want to get emotional around some perfect stranger who had the goddamn gall to come up and ask me something that was none of his goddamn business.”

The subject brings her close to tears. “Gram was such an amazing part of my life. I have so many good memories of him, it seems pointless to dwell on the tragedy of it.” Abruptly, she reaches to turn up the country station already blaring from a hotel room radio. “Do you like Conway Twitty?” she asks. “I just love the harmony on this.”

Pieces of the Sky was almost a year long project in itself. Emmylou for one could not be more proud. With the help of Anne Murray’s ex-producer Brian Ahern, great care was taken in selecting material. “I’m just starting to write again,” says Harris. “I don’t mind the fact that I only wrote one song [“Boulder to Birmingham,’ cowritten with Bill Danoff] on the album. There are just too many tunes that I get off doing and want to turn people on to. I feel very deeply and personally involved with each one, so I don’t miss that writer’s identity of making a statement.

“I think any singer feels that way,” Harris says about choosing songs like the Everly Brothers’ “Sleepless Nights,” the Beatles’ “For No One”and Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors.” Like Linda [Ronstadt]. When she sings a song it’s really sung. Nobody cares that she doesn’t write; the delivery’s all that really matters.”

Besides a heavy touring schedule and the summer recording of her next album, Emmylou Harris spunkily refuses to acknowledge the long-range future. “A lot of my life has been circumstance. The future just doesn’t exist for me. You’re not responsible for decisions if you don’t make them.

“What do I see in the future?” Harris asks, reaching for the telephone. “A chocolate shake. Hello, Room Service?”

[vechten]

taking after some peers, and making a list of alternatives for that Guy and that Fuckass band!

alot of these are classified as "indie" or "rock," but there are a few in here that sound a bit like the Guys solo albums (eugh). there are ALOT ive put in here btw

paramore - been around alot longer than lvjy, and has a feel like lvjy + a woman lead band! sorry - also has a similar feel, created by two best friends! destroy boys - going on tour soon, and has a very grunge-y feel that some ex-fans could enjoy! los campesinos - also an older band, openly supports palestine, and really just good people + still making music arctic monkeys - i don't know much about AM, but i know lots of ex-fans have enjoyed them in the past, and they make good music the killers - ive been a fan of the killers for a extremely long time, and like all the others, they sound the same as lvjy, somewhat. they ARE better, though. the strokes - i also dont know Alot about the strokes, but from what ive heard, pretty good, silmiar to most bands ive put franz ferdinand - has a more 2000s rock feel, much like the killers or arctic monkeys cage the elephant - kindof folk punk? older band peach pit - HUGE fan of peach pit. genuinely, all their shit goes hard as fuck. good kid - same feel as lovejoy, but the members arent complete dickheads, and their songs sound different foster the people - ya remember that one band that made the song about a gun? yea, this is them

two door cinema club - i really really really like them and i think you would too (im running out of things to say) modest mouse neon trees twenty one pilots wallows late night drive home bears in trees artists similar to the Guy blue foster ewy jeff rosenstock cardboard swords crywank

the smiths peach rings there is also another artist called wilbur, whom is criminally underground! they make amazing stuff, go check them out! https://open.spotify.com/artist/7Lz9524ML9dQrSAKlOC85k?si=GVXrp_mfSM6ORP1uqiLDgw ------------------------------------ if you have any more feel free to reply with em or something idk. i have a playlist for easier access :3 rb if you see this (no force) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2ObzNzuvEP8ZgejmCMMdHE?si=f0cb1d7c26da4462