#mtv world stage

[greendayauthority]

MTV World Stage | Plaza de España | Seville, Spain | 2 November 2019

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Tokio Hotel - Girl Got a Gun 2014

Tokio Hotel is a German music band formed in 2001. Starting from the foundation, the band's music genres were pop rock and alternative rock; since 2014, the band began to perform electropop and synth-pop. In September 2008, they won their first MTV Video Music Award, for Best New Artist. Tokio Hotel became the first German band ever to win an award at the MTV VMAs and to also win awards at the MTV Video Music Awards Latin America. They also picked up the Headliner award at the MTV Europe Music Awards 2008 and the award for Best Group at the MTV EMAs 2009. They won for Best World Stage Performance at the MTV EMAs 2010. In July 2011, they became the first German band to win an award at the MTV Video Music Awards Japan. The band has sold more than 10 million records worldwide. "Girl Got a Gun" was released as the second single from their fifth studio album, Kings of Suburbia (2014). The album is Tokio Hotel's most successful album on iTunes to date. It peaked at number 1 in 30 countries and entered Top 5 in 17 more countries.

"Girl Got a Gun" received a total of 54,7% yes votes.

[chelseaknoo]

Imagine this: Eminem gets into a rap feud with your rapper boyfriend, and amidst all the drama, you end up cheating on your boyfriend with Eminem. Then, when Eminem releases a new track, he takes a shot at your boyfriend by hinting at your hookup, adding fuel to the fire with a line about sleeping with you.

Eminem x reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

it’s the night of the MTV Music Awards, and you’ve been given the honor of calling out the winner and presenting the award. Your boyfriend, a rising star in the rap game, is nominated in the same category as his rival—none other than Eminem. For weeks, the two have been trading shots, dropping diss tracks, and stirring up a fierce rap feud.

The tension is palpable as the nominees flash on the screen, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you from his seat, his expression radiating certainty. He’s convinced tonight will end in his victory, a public validation of his skills and his place in the industry

But you know the stakes: if Eminem wins, it would be a crushing defeat for your boyfriend—a public blow that could turn the tide in their feud and become the talk of the music world. Yet, there’s a strange electricity in the air as you take the stage, gripping the award envelope, your heart pounding. Whether it’s a win or loss, this moment is about to make headlines.

"Eminem!" you announce, your voice echoing through the venue as the crowd erupts in wild cheers, celebrating his victory.

Eminem strides onto the stage, his expression a mix of pride and that unmistakable cockiness he’s known for. As he reaches you, he takes the award with one hand and, to your surprise, pulls you into a tight hug with the other. The embrace lingers just a moment too long, his hand slipping lower with each second—a subtle but unmistakable taunt meant to rile up your already furious boyfriend, who’s watching from his seat with narrowed eyes.

The audience catches onto the tension, gasping and laughing as Eminem’s playful smirk widens. He whispers a low “Thank you” in your ear, glancing briefly over at your boyfriend, whose jaw is clenched, his confidence shattered by the public loss and the blatant show of disrespect. Eminem lets you go, stepping up to the mic, but you can still feel the charged energy radiating from your boyfriend’s glare. The feud has just reached a new level, and you know tonight will be one for the headlines.

At the after-party, your boyfriend was sulking, stewing over his loss. His confidence from earlier in the night had dissolved into a grumpy silence, and he barely spoke to you, responding with short, cold remarks every time you tried to break the ice. His attention was laser-focused on Eminem, who was mingling across the room, clearly enjoying his win. Your boyfriend’s glare never wavered; he was practically daring Eminem to look his way.

Finally, you had enough. The atmosphere was suffocating, and you weren’t going to spend the night with someone who refused to move past the loss. Frustrated, you excused yourself from the table, deciding you needed a drink just to shake off the tension.

As you walked toward the bar, you sensed someone fall in step beside you. Glancing over, you saw it was Eminem, giving you that familiar smirk. “Rough night?” he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. There was something in his eyes that made it clear he’d noticed the icy atmosphere between you and your boyfriend. For the first time all evening, you found yourself relaxing, even smiling, as you felt the weight of the night start to lift.

You leaned against the bar, letting out a sigh, and turned to Eminem with a half-smile. “Yeah, you could say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s taking this loss… well, let’s just say he’s not handling it well.”

Eminem chuckled, ordering a drink as he leaned beside you. “Can’t say I blame him,” he shrugged, “but hey, it’s all part of the game, right?” His voice was light, but there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he understood the cost of ego in the industry.

You nodded, grateful for the change in atmosphere. “True. But it doesn’t mean I have to be dragged down by it,” you said, looking across the room to see your boyfriend still seated, jaw clenched, watching the two of you like a hawk. The icy, simmering tension in his stare made your stomach tighten, but you ignored it.

Eminem followed your gaze, then raised an eyebrow. “Well, if he’s going to sit there and sulk, that’s on him. You don’t deserve the silent treatment.”

There was something disarming about Eminem’s attitude. He wasn’t pushing anything, just being unexpectedly down-to-earth and understanding. As the drinks arrived, he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “Here’s to enjoying the night,” he said, eyes flickering with a mischievous glint.

You took a sip, the warmth of the drink helping you shake off the tension. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a rush of relief. Eminem leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a private tone. “Honestly, you look like you could use a good distraction.”

Before you could respond, the DJ switched to one of Eminem’s tracks, and the crowd went wild. He shot you a grin. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated, knowing full well how your boyfriend would take it. But in that moment, the thought of breaking free from his cold demeanor and just having fun felt too tempting to resist. You placed your hand in Eminem’s, feeling a spark shoot up your arm.

As you danced with the Detroit rapper, your boyfriend’s absence was the only confirmation you needed—he had already stormed off, leaving you alone with Eminem. The music thumped around you, and you felt the heat of the moment take over, your frustrations melting into the rhythm of the song and the intensity of Eminem’s gaze.

Eminem leaned in, his face coming closer, and before you realized it, his lips were on yours, catching you off guard yet feeling almost inevitable. The kiss was electric, a mix of passion and defiance, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The tension of the night, the rivalry, your boyfriend’s coldness—it all vanished in that single connection.

As he pulled back, a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Want to get out of here?” he murmured, his voice low, barely audible over the music but clear enough to send a thrill through you.

You met his gaze, feeling a rush of excitement and a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt all night. “Yes,” you replied, nodding without hesitation. With a final glance back at the room you were leaving behind, you let him take your hand, leading you out of the club and into the night, where the evening’s tension was about to unfold into something entirely new.

The ride to the hotel was a blur of city lights and pulsing beats from the car stereo. Eminem’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, and every time you looked at him, that smirk grew a little wider. You knew you were crossing a line, but in that moment, you didn’t care about the consequences—you just wanted to live in the present, to feel alive.

Once inside the plush hotel suite, the reality of what was happening hit you like a sledgehammer. The room was dimly lit, with candles flickering around the edges, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and slightly overwhelming. The smell of his cologne filled the air. Eminem led you to the bed, his hand never leaving your waist, and the weight of his touch sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he kissed you again, his hands exploring the curves of your body with a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The world outside the hotel room felt a million miles away, and all you could focus on was the heat of his breath, the taste of his lips, and the way your body responded to his every touch.

Eminem's strong arms pulled you closer, his hands deftly unbuttoning your dress, which slid to the floor in a whisper of fabric. You stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, feeling exposed yet empowered by the raw desire in his eyes. His own shirt and jacket followed suit, revealing a sculpted physique that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

The air grew thick with anticipation as he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands moved to unhook your bra. It fell away, leaving your breasts bare to the cool air and the warmth of his palms. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

He led you to the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping you as he laid you down. His touch was gentle yet firm, his hands skimming over your skin like a warm summer breeze, igniting a trail of fire wherever they went. You could feel the weight of his body on top of you, and it was a feeling of both safety and exhilaration.

Eminem’s kisses grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with yours as he traced a line of passion down your neck and to your breasts. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through your body, and your breath hitched in your throat. His hands moved with purpose, removing every last piece of clothing that stood between you. The sensation of his bare chest against yours was electric, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

He paused, looking down at you with a hunger that was almost feral. Without a word, he slid his hand down the curve of your waist and over the band of your panties, slipping them off with a gentle yet firm motion. Your body reacted instinctively, arching towards him, craving more of his touch. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as he positioned himself above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Eminem kissed you deeply as he entered you, the sensation of his hardness filling you completely, making you gasp into his mouth. The initial shock of his size quickly gave way to a building pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper. His rhythm was slow and deliberate, his hips rolling into yours with a mastery that left you feeling utterly consumed by him.

You could feel every inch of him as he moved, his muscles flexing with each thrust. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, punctuated by the occasional groan or whimper escaping from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as if he were conducting a symphony of passion. The kiss grew more intense, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you moaned in response, your nails digging into his back.

The bed sheets tangled around your legs as the pace grew faster, more frenzied. The headboard banging against the wall matched the tempo of your hearts beating in sync. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way they darkened with every stroke, and it only spurred you on. Your own eyes closed as the pleasure built, your breaths coming in gasps, your body tightening like a coil ready to spring.

Eminem's fingers found their way into your hair, gently tugging your head back as he kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheekbone as he whispered dirty sweet nothings into your ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the sweat bead and the tension in his muscles as he moved within you. His thrusts grew more powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot, making you quiver with pleasure. The sound of skin on skin, the faint rustle of the bed sheets, and the muffled moans of ecstasy filled the air—a symphony of lust that seemed to resonate through the very walls of the suite.

As the intensity grew, Eminem’s grip on your hips tightened, his breaths turning ragged. You could feel him getting closer to the brink, his movements more urgent, and the desperate need reflected in the taut lines of his face. You met his gaze, the electricity between you crackling like a live wire. You whispered his name, and that was all it took for him to let go, his body tensing as he reached climax, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth bared in a silent roar.

The aftermath was a gentle cascade of shared breaths and lingering kisses. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, your bodies still intertwined. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the candles, casting a warm light over the rumpled sheets and the sweat-drenched skin. You laid there, your heart racing, feeling a sense of disbelief at what had just transpired. It had been explosive, a whirlwind of passion that had taken you completely by surprise.

Eminem looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if looking for any signs of regret or doubt. You met his gaze and smiled, your cheeks flushed with satisfaction and a hint of mischief. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. Instead, you felt alive, invigorated by the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through your veins.

He leaned in, kissing you softly, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving into your mouth once more. You tasted a mix of whiskey and victory on his breath, a potent cocktail that only made you want him more. His hand slid down to caress your naked body, his fingertips gliding over your skin like a musician playing a favorite tune. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, eager for the symphony of pleasure to begin again.

After a few weeks of sleeping with Marshall your boyfriend once again dropped another diss track on Marshall, stilled pissed about losing to music MTV awards to him.

A few weeks had passed since things began between you and Marshall, each encounter becoming a carefully hidden secret amidst the chaos of the ongoing feud. Despite the thrill of it all, your boyfriend remained oblivious, though his frustration toward Eminem hadn’t faded. In fact, he seemed more fired up than ever.

Still bitter over the loss at the MTV Music Awards, your boyfriend dropped yet another diss track aimed squarely at Marshall. The lyrics were sharper, more personal, each line dripping with resentment. It was clear that his defeat had stung deeply, and he wasn’t ready to let it go. The diss track hit every outlet, riling up fans and adding fresh fuel to the rivalry. You listened to the track, knowing the words were aimed at Marshall, yet they felt uncomfortably close to home, a reminder of the tangled mess you were in.

Marshall’s reaction, however, was anything but anger. When you mentioned the diss track, he just smirked, as though he found the whole thing amusing.

Two weeks later, Marshall released a new song that sent the internet into an absolute frenzy. The lyrics included lines that would leave no one guessing.The following lines said:

Yo, check it,

You think you flexin’, but you just a clown,

Got your girl in my sheets, ass up, face down,

While you out thrivin’, ballin’ like a thug,

I'm the one givin' her that late-night love.

You a motherfuckin’ joke, man, I’m the real deal,

She whispered my name, now she can’t conceal,

You think you got her locked, but I broke that chain,

She loves my style, man, it drives you insane.

After Eminem released the diss track exposing your affair, it sent shockwaves through the music world. Everyone was talking about it, and the excitement was palpable. The lyrics ignited a frenzy, with fans buzzing about the revelations and the implications of the feud.

A few days after Eminem released the diss track, he showed up at your house, looking more serious than you had ever seen him. The buzz from the song had settled, but the aftermath still hung heavy in the air. As you opened the door, you could see concern etched on his face. “Hey, I just wanted to check in on you,” he said softly, stepping inside.

You led him to the living room, feeling a mix of emotions. “Honestly, it’s been tough,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “My boyfriend has been really distant since all this happened. I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time to end the relationship.”

Marshall’s expression shifted as he processed your words. There was a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes. “I hate to hear that. You deserve to be with someone who truly cares about you,” he said, stepping closer. The tension in the room thickened, and you could feel the pull between you intensifying.

Suddenly, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you. The moment his lips touched yours, all your doubts and fears seemed to evaporate. It was a kiss filled with passion and urgency, a silent confession that spoke louder than words. When he pulled back, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with sincerity. “I love you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to break up with him for me.”

You hesitated, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his confession and the reality of the situation you were in. It was a leap, one that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a spark of something undeniable.

After a moment of contemplation, you reached for your phone. The decision felt monumental as you typed the message: “It’s over.” With a deep breath, you pressed send and immediately turned off your phone, cutting off any chance of a reply from your boyfriend.

Marshall, sensing the shift, pulled you in for another kiss, more enchanting than the first. This kiss was filled with promise and desire, a powerful affirmation of what you both wanted. In that moment, everything else faded away—the drama, the heartbreak, and the uncertainty. It was just you and him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of clarity. <3

[aeolianblues]

‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014!

It’s not tumblr-core and it’s not Lana Del Ray or 2013 AM, it’s not #girl interrupted, it’s not Ethel Cain (she literally is an artist of our time, what are you on about.)

It was 2001 with the Strokes on the cover of the NME every 2 weeks, it was cabaret night and English poetry with the Libertines in 2002, it’s those red and blue military jackets, it was the fucking grease in Julian Casablancas’ hair, it’s ’cocaine was the banker’s drug’ quoth Alex Kapranos, it was Don't Go Back To Dalston and the heroin, it was red and black horizontal striped tops and tight black shirts as evening wear, it was Russell Lissak’s mop top and a full page interview with London hairdressers in the NME in 2005, it was Jack and Meg’s saturated red and white dresses, it was glued glitter on the cover of Santigold’s first album, it was the sleaze and the sex of CSS’s music, it was ‘cold light, hot night’, it was the anti-Bush and anti-war stances of the bands at the time, it was America by Razorlight, it was Popworld on telly and Simon Amstel being a little shit to musicians, it was Karen O defying death on stage nightly, it was throwing up in shitty nightclubs on god knows what drugs, it was the fucking danger knowing this could all collapse any second—and rightly, it should. It was the godawful egos at DFA, it was knowing that while you were lucky to be seeing these bands live, you’d fucking hate them if you had to spend even a minute in their individual company. It was Amy Winehouse telling the world to get the fuck out of her business, it was Leslie Feist and Peaches sharing a dilapidated flat above a sex shop in Toronto.

It was horrible camera flash and red-eye editing softwares and putting your feet by the warm, spinning fans of your computer while it whirred away and downloaded your albums in *checks* 46 more minutes. It was horrible, it was dirty, it was gritty, we all hated it and thought the 90s were the last time music was good and that nothing good had happened since 1997. It was garishly bright clothes we were all embarrassed of by 2011, it was multiple layers and leggings and asking your mum to cut the itchy tag on the back of your low rise jeans only for her to snip your back. It was bell bottoms at the start of the decade. It being thankful that by 2017, no one would dream of wearing low rises anymore, please please, please let them never come back.

It was faux nostalgic of the past itself. It was ‘please make sure baby you’ve got some colours in there’ in your clothes. It was moral panic over emos. It was wanting to escape into a better past that you could see was visibly impoverished in the present. It was watching your favourite programmes become less and less relevant on air. It was watching MTV decisively die a horrible death. It was watching important venues and nightclubs get bulldozed. It was watching the last regular broadcast of Top Of The Pops in 2006. It was seeing how the 2009 financial crisis most definitely put a stop to independent music in the western world for a decade, it was watching the rise of bedroom DIY and electronic music. It was seeing the phrase ‘SoundCloud rapper’ being coined. It was the rise of Disney pop. It was counter-culture Justin Bieber hatred. It was the MS paint meme of those tumblr girls thoroughly unimpressed by the guy.

It was not using the words ‘indie sleaze’ at all, in fact. That’s a retconned word. It was garage rock revival. It was ‘post-grunge’. We didn’t care what it was called, we hated it all the same. It was a lead into a decade of despair and nihilism, it was the last hurrah for the music industry before it splintered into a thousand little online ecosystems, it was the last time we had physical community and any shared pop cultural moments. It was Live8 2005. It was the same as it is now, and it was a time that’ll never happen again, for better and for worse.

But one thing is for sure: it was decisively dead by 2014. Santi and Karen O’s 2012 collab was its last hurrah and it was dead by Comedown Machine by the Strokes (2013). It has nothing to do with 2014.

[dear-slim]

Hello, i would like to Em in the 2000s x reader that the reader is a pop singer. She was nicknamed the "Princess of the Industry" or "Good Girl" because she has a sweet and shy personality. which the reader has never even had a boyfriend. which em does not believe that she is really like that (of course, this is the entertainment industry) He mentioned her in his songs such as "a good girl? of course I want to fuck her to forget the world." no idk 🫠 when he had to go up to receive a prize with her. he thanked his fans and talked about her that he actually wanted her more than an award (because he still thought she was not a good girl) and people were very angry with him that he talked about her like that. because the reader is loved by people and she is a really good girl. which motivates him to want to play with her a little more

you can choose the ending yourself, which I have but I'm not sure if it will be good, which I think of 2 types 

1. He knew the fact that she was actually a good girl, so he felt like getting to know her more. 

2. He played with the reader until she really fell in love with him and she was pregnant. And she knew the truth at that time that he was just playing with her for his fun. but at that time he actually loved her, you can change the ending scene as you like! ✨ (I want a happy ending🥹)

sorry, English is not my main language.🥲

Thank you✨

Warnings: Smut, 18+ degradation, swearing, mean comments, sexualising, cute!reader

Pairing: slim shady x fem!reader

A/N - I love this request so much! I put ‘Slim Shady’ instead of ‘Eminem’ on the pairing coz it feels more…suited 😉

The Princess of Pop. The little Good Girl of the industry. That’s what you were known as. And, well, it was almost like it was a rule of the Hip Hop world to hate anyone and everyone who sang Pop. It was so…cringy and cheesy and just weird, and everyone hated it. 

But no one hated it more than Marshall Mathers. He despised that one, specific genre from the pit of his heart, so who better to shed his anger on than the girl who all the crazy pop fans absolutely adored. 

In fact, not even just the pop fans, basically everyone knew who you were and it ignored Em more than he’d ever care to admit. Well, he’d gladly admit it in a song. “Man, she’s so damn infuriating,” Em groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time in that hour alone. 

“C’mon, man, you ain’t even met her,” Dre said, his voice sick and tired of saying the same words again and again to his prodigy rapper. “I know but her and her stupid bows and frills and…god, not everything is sunshine and rainbows!” Em said, his voice coming out in a groan.

time skip 

Of course you’d heard the song Em has written. Everyone and their mother had heard it, it was a great song, but it wasn’t a secret to anyone who the song was about. You. Particularly the lyric, ‘a good girl? I’d fuck her to forget the world’. 

Of course, being a pop artist, you didn’t have the assets to be able to retaliate or write a song back, but you were still intrigued by the song. It had basically just been a song questioning your innocence, or however he put it. And your fans, as well as some of his, were very perplexed. 

Why was he dissing your behaviour? And what did he mean thta you were faking it? It didn’t take an awfully smart person to see that you were the sweetest person to ever exist. And him to express his lust for you? They’d seen him make similar references or Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera but you were different…fuck, you’d never even had a boyfriend. Not that Em believed that.a

You were standing in the middle of the stage, wearing your sweet little pink dress, a bow on the back of your head as you adjusted the microphone to be pointed at your lips as you held the envelope in your hand. You’d been invited to the MTV awards to read out some of the names for the awards. 

“And the Award for The Best Rap Video is…” you opened the envelope, a smile on your lips, “oh, Eminem,” you said, smile faltering slightly, but you fixed it nonetheless. Basically just proving Em was right on saying you were a fake ass bitch.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, walking onto stage and taking your place in front of the microphone as you stood politely to the side. Your outfits couldn’t have been more different, with him wearing a matching grey jogger and hoodie set, and you in a damn princess-like dress. 

“I don’t really have a speech planned for this, you know what I’m sayin’?” he said into the microphone, chewing his gum between every few sentences, “but, uh, thanks to, like, Mr Dre…Dr Dre,” he said, the camera panning to Dre. “Nice trophy and stuff…heavy,” he said, weighing it up in his hands. 

“Rather take something else home with me, though,” he said, his eyes flickering to you for the briefest of seconds, barely even register-able if you’d blinked. Your cheeks tinged a little pink but you said nothing, showing no reaction as he walked off stage, casting one final look to you. 

The after party was a hell of a lot more lively than the awards, with people drunk everywhere, celebrities talking and shouting and cheering over everyone as you sat with some classic other singers, like Britney and Christina. “What was the speech about, man?” 50 asked, raising a brow to Em. 

“Thanking people and shit,” he said, with forced innocence as 50 rolled his eyes. “What’s that about ‘takin’ something else home’?” 50 quoted him. “Maybe I want something other than the award,” Em said, a slight smirk playing across his features. 

It didn’t take long for Em to notice you were a bit tipsy, your words slurred and your giggle being louder then you probably intended. And to think people genuinely believed you were innocent? He’d intend to change all of that and prove that stupid little lie wrong. 

You didn’t even know when Em had brought you to his house, you must’ve blacked out, but you were well aware that he was carrying you into his place, shutting the door as your eyes fluttered open. “Em,” you mumbled, a lot more sober than you had been before as you looked up at him. 

You could feel his legs moving up the stairs, where were you? “Shut up,” he said, his voice sounding pretty pissed as you made a sound, not entirely coherent. Your body bounced as he dropped you onto his bed, your legs parted a bit, arms splayed behind you. 

“Sick and tired of people thinking you’re such an innocent little fairy,” he scowled as you sat up, well, attempted to, before his hand pushed you back down. “Em…” you said again, your voice more coherent as his hand pushed down a little more firmly onto you chest, your lips parting, 

“You’re not a fucking angel, Y/N,” he sneered, his voice holding a hint of mockery, “some fucking little pretty princess who wouldn’t hurt a fly,”. You stayed silent, your eyes wide, Em’s words hitting you like a ton of bricks. “How many guys have you really fucked, hm?”. 

Again, you stated silent. “Didn’t expect you to answer,” he scowled, “so what am I? Your twentieth? Thirtieth?”. You didn’t protest as he lifting the bottom of your small skirt, his fingers trailing oh we your panties, which were already slightly wet. “Whore,” Em smirked, pushing his joggers down with his free hands whilst moving the thin material of your panties. 

Your legs squeezed together as he traded over your sensitive bundle of nerves, a scowl on Em’s face at the movement. “Keep it open,” he snarled, forcing your knees apart, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he worked on sliding his finger into your core, a whine on your lips, legs shaking as he curled his digit.

Your cunt clenched round his finger subconsciously as he scoffed again, rolling his eyes. “How fucking needy can you be, Y/N?” he mocked you again, but you paid no mind, too focused on his finger deep in your heat, coated in your juices, his other hand holding your body down. 

Another whine left your lip as he pulled his finger out, your hips moving closer to him to try and make him push his fingers back into you. “Knew you weren’t innocent,” Em rolled his eyes, pushing the head of his thick cock through your folds, a moan on your lips. 

Your eyes rolled back at simply the feeling of his tip stroking against your sensitive clit, even more so when he aligned the entrance to his cock with your hole. “Em!” you shrieked as he slowly pushed into your core, your warm cunt welcoming his cock with your juices. 

“Fuck, calm down,” he said, “it’s not a damn broomstick,”. Your nails clawed at his back, leaving deep red lines across his skin as he raised a brow. And…was that a hint of fear in your eyes? “Y/N,” he said, his eyes widened for a split second before he masked it with a neutral expression, “how many times have you done this?”. 

“I-I haven’t,” you said honestly, his jaw going slack. So, you aren’t lying about…everything? You whined again, trying to move your hips down, to create some sort of friction. “Y/N, I can’t be your first,” he said, his tip hanging inside of you as you clenched round him again, almost as if you were trying to refrain him from moving his cock out of you. 

“You’re already in me,” you said, trying to grab his wrists as he looked down. There was a part of him that would love to take your virginity, for him to be your first, to have you moaning his name and thinking about him like that, with no other guys…he’d love that. 

“You sure?” he asked. That was all he needed. To make sure he had your full and final consent. As soon as the word ‘yes’ left your lips, he pushed his cock fully into you, your warm cunt squeezing tightly round him, silky and velvety around him. 

“God, you’re tight,” he said, his breaths coming out in short pants as he slowly pushed his tempo up, his hips snapping into to yours. “Oh f-fuck,” you gasped, eyes wide as the sound of his cock plunging into your wet juices echoed in the room. God, you looked so good, all spread out under him, for him. 

You could feel a knot building in your stomach as Em angled his hips, the tip of his cock hitting that one point that seemed to turn the volume of your moans up to maximum, and make your eyes roll and your cunt clench round him in that perfect, hot way. 

“I’m close,” he groaned, his head leaning forwards for him to nip and pepper kisses along your collarbone, small pink marks forming on your supple skin. “Do you want me to cum in you?” he asked, lifting his head from your neck to ask the words. 

“P-Please,” you said, cunt clenching round him, your body shooting into little, small spasms, your hands clawing at him as your own orgasm washed through. The whines in his ear from you was enough for him, his cum shooting in thick hot spurts inside of you, spilling down your thighs. 

Besides, what harm could one time do? And he liked the look of you like that for him, as he tranced his cock over your folds, pushing his cum back into you. “Em,” you gasped, hands resting on his shoulders, the bulge of his muscles beneath your hands. 

You stayed under him, your legs still over his shoulders, tilted slightly upward so his cum stayed inside of you, your breathing slowing, Em’s body covered in a light sheen of sweat. “You good?” he asked, moving you to sit on his lap as you nodded, your eyes closed slightly. 

time skip

You’d slept with Em, and you hadn’t even gotten his number. So you’d had to begrudgingly drag yourself to his studio, waiting outside as the door stayed shut. And then finally, after nearly a whole minute of waiting, it opened. “Y/N?” Em raised a brow. 

“We need to talk,” you said, a slight flicker of worry crossing his face as he let you on. “I just… didn’t think it’d happen in one time, a-and I thought I’d be o-okay,” you said, the words all spilling out, somewhat incoherently, before his hand rested on your shoulder, snapping you out of it. 

“Slowly,” he said, leading you into the private section of the studio and sitting you on a chair as he knelt in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. “What happened?” he asked. “I-I’m pregnant,” you said, steadying your breath as his eyes widened. 

“How long?” he asked. “Not sure,” you said weakly, “it’s yours, though,”. Em nodded slowly, saying nothing. “D’you wanna keep it?” he asked softly, moving his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” you said softly, your eyes welling up a bit. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek, on the edge of your lips, “I’m gonna be here the whole time, okay? I promise,”.

[dreamwatch]

Kick 'em When They're Up

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest June warm-up round.

Prompt: Band on the run | Word Count: 997 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Established Relationship, the press being scumbags, angst, Eddie Munson needs a hug, and Steve is going to give it to him, they're in love your honour | AO3

*title from Dirty Laundry by Don Henley

****

It’s taken eight years for it to come out; one world tour, three albums. One video that blew up on MTV. And that was the problem.

Because being a metal band, while they were famous, in metal magazines, in the scene, they weren’t famous. They weren’t Metallica. But it was cool. They were successful enough, they had everything they ever wanted.

But see, you have a successful single, and people who don’t know you, well, now they know you. And they want to know more about you, so they buy magazines. And some magazines, some shitty, low rent, nasty fucking rags, they really dig.

It’s been a long time since he’s seen his photograph alongside Chrissy Cunningham's.

They’d barely got off the stage in Quebec before Phil, their manager, was getting them into cars and back to the hotel. No one telling them a goddamn thing, just “We have a situation, we have to go.” They all piled into Phil’s hotel room, still sweaty, towels around their necks, before the bomb got dropped.

“Bullshit,” Eddie says, even though he can see it in Phil’s face. He scrambles to turn the television on. And it’s there, on the news, not just MTV either, it made CNN. 

He barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up.

He has no idea how long he’s been sitting on the bathroom floor. People have been knocking but he ignores them. They probably need a piss. They’ll have to go to someone else’s room.

There’s another knock and he just wants to tell them to fuck off but they speak before he gets a chance.

“Eddie?” Jeff, talking to him so softly, which makes him feel worse. Because this isn’t just about Eddie, it affects them too. If this blows up— fuck, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Dude? Steve’s on the phone. I think you should come out and talk to him.”

And that’s the trigger, that’s the thing that gets him off the floor and unlocking the door. What he walks into isn’t a hotel room anymore, it’s a fucking war room. Phil is on another phone, the cable leading from the corridor outside the room. Their tour manager and publicist have their heads together at the desk. There are members of the road crew coming in and out of the room, dropping off food and drinks. When the door opens he can see security posted on the door.

Holy fuck. All because of him.

He takes the phone and turns to face the wall. “Steve?” His voice is rough from the adrenaline and stomach acid. He needs a drink.

“Hey,” says Steve in that oh-so-gentle voice, and God how he fucking needs him right now. “How are you holding up?”

“Been better,” he manages to force out. 

“Shit, sorry, stupid question.”

And Steve knows what he needs to hear before he can even form the words; Wayne is fine, Steve is fine, yes there are photographers and press outside his house, no there is no one outside of Wayne’s. 

“You’re all on flights out of Quebec this afternoon, okay?”

“To where?” They were supposed to be back in LA at the end of the week. But now… he has a hot stone in the pit of his stomach just thinking about it.

“Dublin via Toronto. You liked Ireland, right? And it’s quiet, it’ll be easy to hide there for a bit. Dustin has a friend-of-a-friend thing going on, but basically he’s got us a house in the middle of nowhere. We’ll be fine.”

“We?”

“I’m at LAX now. You’ll probably beat me there, you can hide out in the lounge and drink all their booze.” Eddie can hear the smile in his voice. He never stops marvelling at the way Steve just knows him, knows what he needs morning, noon and night. 

He clutches the phone, knuckles turning white. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. You won’t be alone, Phil is going to fly in with you, he’ll take care of everything. Just, tie your hair up and keep it under a cap. And take your rings off, okay? Keep your arms covered if you can.”

“Try not to look like Eddie Munson?”

There’s a pause at the end of the line before Steve lets out a soft sigh. “Yeah. Just for now though, right?”

“Right.” 

“I gotta go, my flight is boarding. I love you, okay?”

Eddie feels broken, the thought of hanging up like cutting his lifeline and he almost can’t bear to do it. “Okay. I love you too.”

“Always and forever?”

Eddie can hear the light teasing in Steve’s voice, and he smiles for the first time since Phil told him his life had been turned upside down again. Because that is what Steve does to him; blows away the tears and the clouds and the rain. Takes the open wounds of him and pulls them taught, stitching them together and making him whole again. 

“Always and forever,” he whispers back. 

He still feels sick, still has that putrid, adrenaline-filled rock in his gut just sitting there, but Steve’s voice reminds him of what they can’t take from him. They can take his band, his career, everything he worked for. But Steve will always be there for him. So many times in his life he’s questioned whether he is loved, like, truly loved. Even Wayne, who gave up so much for him, Eddie always worried that it came from a sense of obligation, even though deep down he knew better. But now, trapped in the middle of this maelstrom, the target of another witch hunt, he’s never been more sure of this: Steve Harrington loves him. And he loves him back in a way that should be scary but feels like oxygen, feels like life. And that’s what it comes down to, ultimately;  Steve is his life. 

And no shitty third rate magazine is ever taking that away from him.

****

Thanks to the wonderful @devondespresso for beta-ing!

[fob4ever]

i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Getaway Car

Day #14 - Prompt: And the Winner Is... | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Mild Sexual Themes, Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Steve is to Corroded Coffin Music Videos as Alicia Silverstone was to Aerosmith Videos in the 90s

Eddie sinks to his knees in the gravel, hands outstretched, groveling, pleading in his torn jeans and artfully cut t-shirt. Big, open arm holes, showing lots of skin, his hair blowing in the wind, as he's leaning so far back, until he's collapsed along the side of the road, hand clutched to his chest. 

Mouth moving, but no words coming out, and he raises himself back up, just to see the back of Steve walking away. In a full strut, towards the red convertible parked in the middle of the road. Steve turns, stalks back, and glances down at him just long enough to kick a toe-full of gravel in Eddie's direction. 

Eddie shields his face, but one rock still gets through, clocking him right in the forehead, and Eddie darts up, grabbing Steve by the arm, yanking.

Then the scene changes, back to the band onstage, playing before it catches back up with Eddie and Steve. This time, Eddie's walking down the side of the road, bags of stolen cash in his hands.

And Steve pulls up alongside him in the same red convertible, and Eddie jumps in the getaway car, tossing the bags in the back as he crawls over and situates himself on Steve's lap.

Cut back to the band, cut to Steve sitting outside of the bank, cut to the band, cut to Eddie and Steve getting matching tattoos, back to the band, back to Eddie and Steve being playful in bed, the band again, then back to Eddie and Steve meeting in a bar.

A story, shown in reverse.

Eddie sinks lower into his theater seat. This music video has been all over MTV for months, nearly a year at this point, and he's seen it hundreds of times during editing, but tonight is the first time he's embarrassed. He's a bad actor. He looks stupid. Who thought a wind machine for his hair was a good idea? It's so goddamn cheesy. 

Nobody is gonna give this video an award.

Except. He knows they might, because of Steve. That's the ace in their pocket they hadn't even planned on. Winning a VMA wasn't even on the radar when they filmed it. Steve had to be cajoled and begged and bartered with, and only agreed when they provoked his jealous streak, because he didn't want to see Eddie filmed in bed with someone else. 

They played dirty, promising it was no big deal, just a little music video that would only be seen on Headbanger's Ball.

And then it blew the fuck up, and made them all goddamn liars. 

Not because of the song, or the band, Eddie knows that, but because of the hot guy in the video. Now, they're getting calls. Big calls. Big offers, and the label is planning a trilogy of videos starring Steve for the band, like he's Alicia Silverstone and they're Aerosmith or something.

Eddie glances Steve's way, and Steve's even lower in his seat than Eddie is, and Eddie reaches for his hand and squeezes. 

"I'm sorry," he mouths, and Steve just narrows his eyes, and it makes Eddie grin.

The nominees are read, and when their name is announced Eddie is frozen in place. Gareth has to pull on him, and he has to pull on Steve. Steve shakes his head, not wanting to go up on stage, but Eddie knows the crowd will want to see him, will want to be formally introduced. Steve might not have acting aspirations, but the world is definitely clamoring for him to do something, anything, to stay in front of their greedy fucking eyes. Their agent keeps getting calls wanting to get in touch with that actor's agent.

That he doesn't have. Because he's not an actor.

He's their Road Manager, their babysitter, and Eddie's long-suffering boyfriend.

"Uh, um, thank you," Eddie says, holding up the Moonman statuette. "We didn't expect this." Then he turns to face Steve, "You might recognize this guy. From the video you just saw. And that you've seen played a million times on MTV. That's Steve. My Steve," Eddie says, blushing a little. "Sorry. He's taken."

And Steve looks like he wants to melt into the floor, so Eddie will make this quick, "But you'll see him again in our next video. I promise," Eddie says, and then hands over the podium to Gareth, who does the full rundown of thank yous as Eddie walks over and wraps his arm around Steve's back, enjoying looking at his reddened cheeks.

There will be pictures, and video footage, and no amount of media training could make the two of them look anything other than awkwardly embarrassed about this predicament they've found themselves in. 

Fucking hell.

Gareth presses the statuette into Steve's hand for some reason, while Jeff and Goodie speak at the podium, and when they can finally leave the stage, Eddie pulls Steve backstage, and presses him against the wall, kissing him, "Thank you. I love you."

Steve kisses him back, the award hanging loose at his side, right against Eddie's thigh.

It's the image that runs in all the magazines, and with time, turns out to be the image of the entire night.

Weeks later, Eddie is dressed in some sort of leather get-up that not even he understands, at least not fully, with Steve hovering over him.

"CUT!" the director yells, and they both stop right where they are. "Moving on to set-up three!"

Steve reaches down and helps Eddie to his feet, "You okay?" 

"This is weird," Eddie admits with a laugh.

"Well, if you think it's weird, imagine how I feel," Steve says, and he has a crop in his hand, and reaches over and pops Eddie on the ass with it. 

Eddie can hear Gareth, Goodie and Jeff laughing from behind the monitors, all just happy that they don't have to be involved in any of this embarrassment. They can still walk down the street, unknown.

Not Eddie, and definitely not Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: If you've never seen the Cryin' music video, or just need a refresher, I've definitely drawn inspiration from it, lol. Imagine Eddie doing that dramatic Steven Tyler lip syncing. He'd feel like such a fool. Bonus? If you're a Lost fan, keep your eyes peeled for Josh Holloway.

[whenmemorydies]

90s alternative rock, masculinity and The Bear

This post by @bbythurs got me thinking about The Bear's soundtrack, specifically its use of 90s alternative rock. Some thoughts below.

Chris Storer and I are very close in age, and going by the soundtrack choices for The Bear, grew up listening to very similar music. I came to grunge a few years after its heyday but when I did, I quickly became obsessed with these (mostly) white boys singing frankly about things like domestic violence, sexual assault, drug use, and mental health issues, and who seemed to revel in challenging traditional masculinity. Their hair was often long but usually not overly styled (or washed for that matter), they sometimes wore dresses, lipstick and eyeliner on stage (but were decidedly unglam about it), and they scribbled "PRO CHOICE" on their bare arms during prime time television performances (shout out to Eddie Vedder).

Kurt Cobain on the cover of The Face, September 1993.

Michael Stipe, who often played with gender in R.E.M.'s live shows, had also recently come out as queer (his words were, an "equal opportunity lech") during the promotional cycle for REM's Monster (the album featuring Sydcarmy's infamous "Strange Currencies"). Alternative rock in the 90s was full of folks who were challenging convention, including the necessity of traditional masculinity.

The irony is that so many of the people who listened to grunge were white guys who had no problem with traditional masculinity. These were the same guys who head-banged and dove in mosh pits to these songs but went home and beat on their partners, or perpetrated sexual assault while singing the lyrics to these songs. No one can control who consumes your art, even if some artists did try to (see Kurt Cobain's liner notes from Nirvana's Insecticide):

In contrast, it seems like Chris Storer (thankfully) got the correct memo.

Ever since watching the first episode of The Bear, it was clear to me that this show has plenty to say about masculinity: how its performed and weaponised (2x06 Fishes is a master class in depicting this on film), how its subverted (think: Emmanuel and Pete but also Marcus and Chester), how those who don't conform to traditional masculine archetypes - in even the most innocuous way, like being artistic - can be isolated and picked off, including by those who might love them the most (see: Carmy's treatment by many in his family), and how those who do perform traditional masculinity to a T, can still be decimated in its wake (see: alpha-male Mikey).

Hearing tracks like Pearl Jam's "Animal" and "Come Back", REM's "Strange Currencies" and "Oh My Heart", Radiohead's "Let Down", and Nine Inch Nail's "The Day The World Went Away" used in The Bear is incredibly nostalgic for those of us who grew up with these artists. Their inclusion in the soundtrack is also incredibly intentional (like everything to do with this show). This is the music that Mikey was likely listening to growing up and that Carmy would have heard his brother playing. This is also undoubtedly the music that Storer grew up listening to as well.

I love that in a show about a man who is coming into his own after years of toxicity and abuse - much of which was targeted at Carmy because of how he performed (or didn't perform) masculinity - that reference is being paid to this genre. And if it was the case that this was the music Mikey was listening to and, perhaps even playing for Carmy when they were kids, that Carmy would be able to go back and re-listen to these artists now and know, that despite Mikey's demons and his own relationship with masculinity, that his brother always loved Carm, just as he was.

Author's note:

Also if there is a temporary (because it has to be fucking temporary, you hear me lol) Sydcarmy break up/parting of ways, I'm gonna need Storer and Calo to soundtrack it with Pearl Jam's "Black" (the MTV Unplugged performance). I'll need Eddie Vedder growling/screaming "WE BELONG TOGETHER" over a close up of Carmy's distraught face as Syd walks away. I'm going to need to hear,

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life/I know you will be a star/In somebody else's sky/But why, why, why can't it be/Can't it be mine?,

over the end credits please.

[sophaeros]

my chemical romance for inrock, august 2007 / vol. 284 - english translated interview

Ray and Frank talk passionately about their views on life

When I thought about playing at the Budokan, I got so nervous that I couldn't sleep a wink.

Ray Toro & Frank Iero / My Chemical Romance INTERVIEW: YUKO KATO

On the morning of the Budokan concert, Frank and Ray were a little hyper and excited. It was such an important concert. It was a milestone for the band.

── How are you? Ray Toro (g): Awesome. This is actually the first time I've had this much time off in Japan, so I finally have time to explore this beautiful country.

── Where did you go? Ray: Asakusa and stuff... This time, my girlfriend Christy came to Japan with me, so we went together. We had two days off, so the day before yesterday we went to see some sumo wrestling. It's just great to be able to experience so much Japanese culture. (Frank comes in, interrupting Ray, taking off his jacket and putting on a T-shirt.)

── Woah, you have a lot of tattoos. I didn't know that because no one takes their clothes off on stage. Frank Iero (guitar): Yeah, he's covered in tattoos. Ray: Then maybe I should start playing shirtless from today onwards (laughs). Frank: Haha, you want to show off your tattoos? Ray: Well, I think it's better to be a little mysterious, so maybe it's cooler to hide it (laughs). Oh yeah, going back to what I was saying earlier, apart from sightseeing, I've been having a great time this time, performing on "Music Station" and the VMAs (MTV Video Music Awards Japan).

── Frank, what did you do during your two days off? Frank: I was with Ray and the others almost the entire time.

── Oh, you brought your girlfriend too? Frank: Yeah, only Ray and I did. Ray: Because we're smart! Frank: Yes, because we're smart (laughs). But seriously, if I hadn't brought her along, I don't think we would have been able to do as much sightseeing as we did. She knows how to use the subway. (As the interviewer checks the recorder) Are you making sure it's recorded properly? My dad writes for a magazine called "Modern Drummer," so like you, he's always nervous about making sure the interviews are recorded properly.

── Oh, I thought he was a musician. And an instrument instructor too… Frank: Yeah, he's a drum teacher, a magazine writer, and a band drummer.

── Woah, is that so? Frank: That reminds me, my dad once interviewed Carmine Appice, the drummer of a band called Vanilla Fudge, but he didn't record it properly, and he was pretty panicked. When that happens, you have to rely on your memory or start over. That makes the artist angry... well, it's a story that doesn't really matter to me (laughs). Um, what were we talking about? Ah, that's right, sightseeing. As I said, we went to Asakusa, and we drew our fortunes, lit some incense sticks, and after purifying our hands and mouths with the smoke, we went inside a temple and prayed. My fortune was great, by the way. After that, we went to Shibuya and Ginza, and last night we went to Roppongi Hills to see "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End".

── Did you like the movie? Frank: Oh, it was amazing! I can't believe a Disney movie could be so brutal. Especially… Ray: Come on, I haven't seen it yet! (covers his ears)

── By the way, I'm really relieved to see that you both look healthy. When I watched "Music Station," Gerard (Way, vocals) looked so skinny… Frank: Yeah, I guess you lose weight when you're on tour that much. He hasn't been feeling too great lately.

── Oh, is that so? Frank: We were all pretty sick, because we got food poisoning. Gerard didn't get food poisoning, but...

── Well, what happened to him? Ray: No, it's just that when you're on tour, you get tired. You have less time to sleep and eat. But don't worry, everyone's fine (laughs). But I hardly slept at all last night... I was so nervous (laughs).

── Oh, why? Because you're playing at Budokan? Frank: Yeah. I get to play at the historic Budokan with my favorite band (Bouncing Souls). It’s such a big, important thing for our career, and I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about it. I couldn't sleep at all.

── But compared to where you'll be performing at Wembley Stadium (June 16th in the UK, supporting Muse), the Budokan only holds 10,000 people. Frank: It's not a question of size. I have a lot of DVDs of Kiss playing at the Budokan, and it's a place where a lot of our heroes have played, including Cheap Trick.

── Are there any plans to release the footage from that time on DVD? Frank: We're going to film it, but we're not going to release it. We just want to keep it for ourselves as a keepsake. And with Mikey (Way, b.) gone now, it just feels wrong to release something without him.

── Speaking of Mikey, the host of "Music Station" also asked him, "Is it okay to take a honeymoon?" There aren't many musicians who take honeymoon holidays. Frank: Ah, well (laughs). We have a motto that the message is more important than the messenger. That is, our show and music are more important than the individuals in the band. That's why Mikey told us that he wanted us to continue doing that. On the other hand, being in this band, you get to have a lot of really great experiences, but in exchange, you don't get to experience the little things that normal people experience on a daily basis. For example, going on a honeymoon, traveling with the people you love, spending time with your family. So I wanted Mikey to experience those things, and I wanted to give him the opportunity to do so.

── Hmm... To be honest, I thought Mikey's hiatus was for a different reason. I read his interview with SPIN magazine earlier this year, and it seems like the situation in America is pretty crazy right now, right? So maybe it was a bit tough for him, since he’s a sensitive person… Frank: Yeah, yeah he's definitely sensitive, but this time it was a decision that we made to respect Mikey's desire to do the same thing as everyone else. Ray: It's because of this crazy schedule that we can't do normal things. We've been doing this for five years straight. Can you imagine having a job where you only get one or two weeks off a year? Frank: Plus, they got married on the road. They never had a chance to be alone together.

── But what about you? You didn't get a honeymoon holiday, did you? Frank: When I was really sick, I did take time off (laughs). Like at Big Day Out. I got a doctor's order. I've said this before, but when you do this kind of work, it's not so easy to take time off just because you're a little sick.

── That's right. There are a lot of things that you have to sacrifice. Frank: Exactly. But sometimes you just refuse to sacrifice your body or your mind. I think that's what happened with Mikey. He was overwhelmed physically and mentally and he needed to take a break. And he just got married, so now was the perfect time to take a break. And we're not just a band, we're like a family... so I miss him a lot and I'd love to be on the Budokan stage with him...

── When is he going to return to the band? Frank: I was actually just talking to him recently, and he said he wants to come back for the Projekt Revolution tour (with Linkin Park), so around August. But that's just a tentative date, and if he needs more time, it'll be a little later.

── It seems like someone is missing every time you come to Japan (laughs). Frank: Well, it's because other bands have time off and we don't have any, because we're always working.

── If that's the case, shouldn't you think about taking a proper rest? After the "Sweet Revenge" tour, everyone was in a bad mood and exhausted, and the atmosphere in the band wasn't very good, was it? Frank: Uh-huh. It's not like we hated each other or anything. But like you said, the tour was exhausting. That's why we took a month off after that. We didn't even talk about music for a month. And then we came back with renewed energy. But you know, we love music so much, and we love the art we do, so it's really hard to leave it. We feel like we can't be satisfied if we're not working or playing music. It's no exaggeration to say that this band saved our lives. We have to play music to survive. Sometimes we got sick. I have a particularly low immune system, so I get sick easily. Even when we played at Wembley, I was pretty sick on the second day.

── I wonder why. You look so healthy… Frank: I'm glad to hear that (laughs). But I do have some internal issues... I have problems with my digestive and immune systems, I get tired more easily than the average person, and I can't function without a lot of sleep.

── So you chose a profession that didn't suit your body. Frank: No, no, it's the job that's making me sick. I got really sick on the first tour and it just got worse and worse. I have a permanent immune system disorder. I have to take medicine every day for my stomach.

── Ray, are you okay? Ray: I feel amazing. I used to be sick all the time when we were touring in a van and stuff. I had an upset stomach… Frank: Maybe you gave it to me? (laughs)

── You two don't smoke, right? I think that's very important. Ray: Yeah, I smoked a little bit a year or two ago because I was feeling stressed, but I quit because I was worried it would turn into a habit. Frank: I've been smoke-free for about four years now.

── So the band has a smoking and a non-smoking tour bus? Gerard and Bob (Bryar, dr.) are the smokers… Frank: Yeah. But Gerard and Bob are both trying to quit this year. Quitting smoking was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, so I think they'll have a hard time too. Ray: Every time Gerard smokes a cigarette I say, "That one will kill you." It's bad for your throat and it might even affect your voice, right? If he doesn't quit this year, I'll cut off one of my fingers every time he smokes. That's the only way to stop him (laughs)! Frank: Haha (laughs). That's how bad cigarettes are for your health.

── A lot of things happened within the band during this tour. Mikey got married backstage in Las Vegas, two of the band members got food poisoning… Ray: Yeah, me, Bob, (Matt) Cortez who plays bass for Mikey, and about half of the crew were affected. Frank: Luckily for me, I don't eat chicken or any meat at all. Ray: Because of that, everyone was in and out of the hospital for about a week. The members of Muse also got food poisoning.

── It seems that fans have even sent threats, including death threats, to the restaurants where you had meals? Frank: (with a serious look on his face) Yes, that's awful, right? I'd like to take this opportunity to say one thing about it: please don't do anything like that. We still don't know exactly what caused the food poisoning, and we're still investigating. Ray: Yeah, we don't want that either.

── By the way, in your interview with SPIN magazine you said something interesting: "We're not afraid to live." Is that a kind of mantra for the band? Frank: Uh-huh.

── But for us humans, just living is normal and we don't think about it, so why do we tell ourselves these things? Frank: This is just my opinion, but I think that in our culture these days, whether it's Japanese culture or American culture, but in all of our cultures, we're slowly forgetting the simple thing of love. I think we're exhausted by the violence that's happening in our daily lives, the wars that are happening in the world, and the hatred that we have for each other. Because of that, we tend to forget how wonderful life is and how connected we are as humans. We know the desire to interact with each other and the love that we should have for each other. Isn't it strange that all the smart scientists in the world can come together and invent these high-quality recording machines, but they can't feed the poor in other countries? I think it's strange. It's really sad that we have completely forgotten how wonderful it is to be alive and how important it is to help each other. We should never forget how beautiful life is, and that's why it's so important for us to spread that message. Also, everyone has a fear of death, but I think death is something that should be celebrated, to look back on the life that a person has lived. That's why it's important to think about what you do while you're alive and what kind of change you can bring to the world. Even one person can make a difference. We're just five ordinary guys, but our music has had a big impact on people all over the world, and I think that's a change. So wouldn't it be great if everyone could live with that kind of awareness? And I hope we can tell the next generation that it's okay to feel anxious or think that you're not okay. Anyway, I think it's important to have the desire to make some kind of change. Even if it's something small. If you have an extra dollar bill in your pocket, give it to someone who needs it. In addition to that, in a world that is so cruel and full of misery, I think it's important not to be afraid to live your life to the fullest for yourself and make yourself as happy as possible.

── Are you guys happy now? Ray: I'm happy. Frank: Me too. A healthy body and a happy mind is enough.

[geoffrard]

Now that @mcrswarmzine is out, I can finally share my contribution!

Gerard and Geoff give us a history lesson

Gerard Way and Geoff Rickly first met—where else—outside a record store in Kearny, New Jersey, weeks or months before MTV started regularly playing Geoff’s band Thursday, months or years before Geoff produced My Chemical Romance’s first record. Gerard was leaving the record store, and there was Geoff, leaning back against the wall, cool and collected, too thin, too young, unsure of himself.

“I remember it super vividly,” Gerard said in an interview once, when asked to recount their first meeting. “Do you remember?”

Back then, Gerard lived in Belleville in a basement apartment. Through the muggy darkness of his bedroom, his hand reached out towards the few strands of light that made it underground, wishing for better ways of making art. Geoff lived underground too, back then, coming alive when Thursday filled the unfinished basements of New Brunswick with people and sound.

Gerard and Geoff first met—where else—at the Eyeball House, where Eyeball Records conducted business. Gerard was an artist, reserved, looking to give back to the scene Geoff’s band had helped create. Eyeball’s owner helped connect them. The shirt Gerard designed for Geoff’s band featured a dove on each side, the front dove captured at the moment of shattering, the back a mechanical bird captured at the moment of dissection. A lever in the bird’s heart read revenge mechanism.

Gerard and Geoff first met—where else—at the Eyeball House, where Eyeball Records hosted infamous parties. The intern’s brother pulled Geoff aside, picked up a broken guitar, and painfully plucked out the opening chords to a song—Vampires Will Never Hurt You. Geoff was not impressed. He’d never tell Gerard that, though; the scene was for everyone who made music their home.

Gerard and Geoff first met—how else—because Mikey Way introduced them. Geoff heard of Mikey’s comic artist brother and begged for an introduction. Geoff wanted to write a comic book together. Gerard wanted to write a record. They made the record.

Gerard and Geoff first met—where else—in the crowd in a random basement in North Jersey, but neither remembered the encounter with enough clarity to recall it.

Gerard and Geoff met—where else—on the streets of New York, strangers brushing shoulders, exchanging glances, one rushing to a show he was too young to attend, the other dreaming of comic book worlds devised with his younger brother in his family’s dark basement apartment.

Perhaps Geoff Rickly and Gerard Way met—where else—in Jersey, on September 20, 2023, when each joined the other’s set for a song. That night was their first time sharing a stage as Geoff from Thursday and Gerard from My Chemical Romance, representing the bands who made them and created our corner of the music world, in almost twenty years.

How much of the crowd discovered their shared history that night? Can a single history exist, on stage in front of an arena of people with their own histories with those two bands, some dating back to first shows or records, some starting that night? Do artists exist off stage? If a band plays to an empty basement, is it a band?

Maybe, for me, Gerard and Geoff’s history began on Geoff’s birthday a few years ago, the day I met my best friend Nic. We met because we both loved My Chemical Romance but grew close because we loved Thursday. Our history is as intertwined with Geoff and Gerard and Geoff and Gerard’s histories are with each other’s. Music does that. Makes itself your home.

Only a few days before she returned home to Australia, Nic was there in Jersey, trying to stay on her feet in the churning mass of people in the crowd. I was at home, sick in bed, watching someone’s shaky livestream, squinting through the fever to see if I could spot her. I’d caught Covid the weekend before at a festival we attended together. The official story was that the My Chemical Romance crowd got me sick, but Nic had only just recovered herself after catching it in the crowd at a Thursday show. So I wondered if I’d caught it from her anyways. There are a few stories.

[greendayauthority]

MTV World Stage | Plaza de España | Seville, Spain | 2 November 2019

[nausicaamusiclover20]

There’s a picture of James and Kirk with that looks like Dallas Cowboys cheer squad https://www.tumblr.com/ba11ltongue/765314535953481728

I think it’s DCC cause of uniform. Can you write James x former cheerleader, they met when this photo was taken and got married pretty fast, which kinda shocked everyone cause all press didn’t pin James for husband material. And maybe couple years later, they are on Grammy/MTV red carpet and a journalist asks James why he married her and Het goes on how caring and amazing she is; but she’s very sassy so she jokes something like “oh really? So nothing to do with me doing all the flips she twists in tiny shorts”?

Hope you like it❤

Husband Material? Ask the Cheerleader!

The roar of the crowd was still ringing in my ears as I wiped sweat

from my forehead and tried to catch my breath. My squad was chattering around me, celebrating another routine well done. It was one of those surreal nights — cheering on a massive stage, bright lights everywhere, surrounded by the biggest names in rock.

Then I spotted him. James Hetfield. He was standing off to the side with his bandmates, looking out over the bustling scene with that signature mix of intensity and cool detachment. It was like he was in his own world, even here, even in the middle of all this chaos.

I’d heard about him — everyone had. Heartbreaker, rebel, “not exactly husband material,” as one of the girls had put it. But right now, he was just… there. And he was staring right at me.

I tried to ignore the sudden flutter in my chest. It’s not like he was going to walk over, right?

Wrong. He was walking straight toward me.

“You did great out there,” he said, a lopsided smile on his face, voice smoother than I expected.

“Thanks! You weren’t too bad yourself,” I replied, trying to sound casual, though I could feel my heart pounding. “So… you’re the infamous James everyone keeps talking about?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Infamous, huh? What are they saying?”

“Oh, you know.” I shrugged, trying to keep my tone playful. “Heartbreaker, rebel.  That sort of thing.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Guess they don’t know everything.” He gave me a look that was both curious and intense. “How about you? You look like you can handle yourself. Break a few hearts yourself, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I replied with a smirk. “But I try not to leave too much collateral damage.”

He chuckled, and before I knew it, we were talking about everything from music to the chaos of life on the road. By the end of the night, he had my number, and I had a feeling — that crazy feeling you get when you just know something big is starting.

----------

Fast forward a couple of years, and here I am, walking down the red carpet with James Hetfield — my husband. Funny how life works, huh? The tabloids had gone wild when we’d gotten married after just a few months of knowing each other. “Impulsive,” they called it. “Uncharacteristic.” And my favorite: “James Hetfield? Husband material?” They couldn’t wrap their heads around it.

But they didn’t know him like I did. And they definitely didn’t know us.

Tonight, James was nominated for an award, and even though I’d been to plenty of these events with him by now, the flashing cameras and chaos still felt surreal. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, steady and sure, grounding me like always. He leaned down, whispering, “You look stunning.”

Just then, a journalist waved us over, a wide-eyed grin on her face. “James! You two are a fan favorite. Everyone’s still fascinated by how you got together so quickly. People were saying they never saw you as, well, husband material. What made you decide she was the one?”

James glanced at me, his eyes softening as he pulled me a little closer. “She’s… everything I never knew I needed,” he said, his voice warm. “She sees me, the real me, not the guy on stage, not the name or the fame. She’s always been able to see right through all of that, and she reminds me of who I am when I forget.” He looked at me, his gaze filled with something so tender, so unguarded, it made my heart skip a beat.

I couldn’t help but tease him, especially with all these cameras around. “Oh really, James?” I grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “So, nothing to do with the fact that I was doing all those flips and twists in tiny shorts?”

The journalist burst out laughing, clearly amused. “So that’s how you won him over!”

James joined in, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, maybe that caught my attention at first,” he admitted, with a grin that only made me want to tease him more. “But that’s not why I married her. She’s so much more than that. She’s the only person who keeps me sane. The only one who keeps me grounded.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as the journalist chuckled again. “You make a good point, but I still think the flips helped,” I replied with a wink, leaning a little closer to James for effect.

James gave me a look somewhere between exasperation and adoration. “Maybe. But it’s your humor, your strength, and the way you don’t let me get away with anything. You’re my best friend.”

I softened, unable to keep up the teasing any longer. The way he looked at me — so full of love and pride — made it hard to think of anything witty to say. I just gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grateful for this moment.

The journalist, still smiling, shook her head. “Well, you two are adorable. Rock’s golden couple,” she said with a playful twinkle. “So what’s the secret, then, to a rockstar marriage?”

I laughed, catching James’s eye with a grin. Before he could answer, I chimed in, “Oh, that’s simple. I just keep him on his toes. Don’t let that rockstar image fool you — I’m the boss in this relationship.”

The journalist chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. James sighed, giving an exaggerated look of exasperation. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “Thanks for putting up with me,” he murmured, just for me to hear.

I squeezed his hand, smiling softly. “Like I said, Hetfield, you’re not getting off that easy.”

--------

Hours later, after the whirlwind of the red carpet, the interviews, and the blinding camera flashes, we finally made it to the after-party. I let out a long breath, kicking off my heels and wiggling my toes as I leaned against the bar with a glass of wine. My feet ached, but it was a good kind of ache, the kind that reminds you of everything you’ve just been through.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of warm, familiar arms wrap around my waist from behind. James pulled me close, his chin resting on my shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss against my neck. “Finally,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’ve got you all to myself.”

I smiled, leaning back into him. “I know. I swear, these events get longer every time.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling my skin. “Worth it, though. You were stunning out there. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

I turned to face him, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the wine. “You said that already, Hetfield,” I teased, nudging him playfully. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

He smirked, tightening his hold on me. “You’re sassy tonight.”

“Always,” I replied, grinning up at him.

James looked at me for a moment, his expression softening. “You know, I meant what I said out there to the press,” he said quietly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Don’t think I say it enough.”

My smile faded, replaced by something softer, more genuine. The world knew James as the rock legend, the larger-than-life icon, but this side of him — the man who was vulnerable, grateful, and unguarded — was the one I fell in love with.

I reached up, resting my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing gently across his jawline. “You know… I don’t think people would believe how mushy you actually are.”

He let out a low laugh, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone. Gotta keep up the image.”

I grinned, pulling him a little closer. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We stood there for a while, the noise of the party fading into the background. It was just us in our own little world. James leaned down, his lips finding mine in a soft, lingering kiss. It was warm, slow, and said everything we didn’t need words for. When he pulled back, he kept his forehead against mine, his thumb tracing gentle circles along my waist.

“Ready to go home?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I nodded, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

As we walked out of the party hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet kind of joy. Fame and all its chaos might come and go, but this? This was real. This was ours. And as long as I had him by my side, I knew I had everything I’d ever need.

[thisisntmyrightera]

She's Home -Nikki Sixx (Douglas Booth x fem reader) Part 4

: Nikki Sixx (Douglas Booth) and Female Reader

Warning: Hard Language, drug mention, adult content,death mention.

By then, before 1983 was over, Nikki had proposed to me and even though we got married in a small ceremony with just a couple of friends, it was just as I had always dreamed, with people who loved us. Following the advice of Don and Tom, our marriage was kept secret, according to both of them, if the fans of Motley Crue found out that one of the members had a wife their fame would not be the same as having 4 single members, and of course, everything was for the band so I accepted.

The story moved quickly, just when I least expected it, Motley Crue was already on tour with Ozzy Osbourne. It had been 4 years since I had met Nikki and the guy who one day gave me a ride home was now getting ready to go on stage in front of thousands of people, it was crazy how We were both fulfilling our dreams, each in our own way and on our own scale, but everything at our own pace.

At that time I had only been able to accompany Nikki to the concert in Los Angeles, I had finally been admitted as a nurse in the hospital os LA working 10 hour shifts and even though my last name was legally Sixx I continued to use my single name to avoid causing problems.

Everyday i come back home excited so I could receive a call from Nikki, I trusted him more than anyone in the world and hearing his voice telling me about his day made me feel like the happiest woman in the world even though I had already spent 4 months alone.

He always ended his call with an “I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow” and the next day it was exactly the same, I counted every minute for the tour to end and return home but many times my head would fly back with the thoughts that at first made me feel insecure

“Did you hear about Diana? Her husband cheated on her with her youngest daughter’s teacher, men are disgusting, don’t you believe Y/N?” The nurse in charge of the patient in 422 gossiped with the other nurses while I filled out some papers on the desk. “Yes, they are… they are terrible” I smiled at her barely trying to avoid her conversation “It’s very strange that a girl like you doesn’t have a boyfriend or husband, do you have something you haven’t told us, honey?'' I could feel the gaze of the other girls on me, waiting for my answer “No, I… I’m actually married, but it’s a bit complicated to explain” I smiled shyly feeling nervous “What’s so complicated, honey? He's a drunk with no future?" they all laughed waiting for my explanation but I just matched their laughter and decided to go check on my patient even though I had done it 10 minutes ago.

How do you explain to a group of women in their 20s that you're married to Nikki Sixx himself? I had heard more than one make disgusting comments about him, how they idolized his body and told of their fantasies with the man to whom I had sworn my unconditional love in front of God and the law, how do you explain that your husband is on tour with thousands of girls around him and i am an insignificant person waiting for him at home.

Everything was torture, watching him on MTV acting happy with the boys, looking at his image in the newspapers, his music videos, how i had fallen into that place where he didn't fit in, many times I fell asleep on the couch with the TV on thinking that maybe it was all a dream.

But then one August night I woke up with a warm hand caressing my hair, my heart skipped a beat as my eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the room ''Shh baby it's me'' Nikki knelt in front of me taking my face carefully smiling ''I didn't mean to scare you love, I'm sorry'' ''Nikki?…What are you doing here?'' I sat up on the couch looking at him, maybe it was a dream and how much I missed him made me imagine him with me but he just laughed and sat next to me hugging me tightly ''We took a break from the tour before leaving the country and I wanted to see my favorite girl'' his hands kept moving over my body, he had never learned to control them and I honestly missed that about him ''You didn't just come for that right?'' I laughed feeling tickles on my stomach and neck as he left kisses on it ''Not really, I came to take you with me, I have a surprise for you '' he smiled mischievously, that smile that made me feel weak ''Come, I want you to see something'' he jumped up taking my hand making the blanket on my legs fall to the ground and I almost with it ''Wait Nikki, I don't have pants'' I laughed following his steps almost tripping ''I don't care, you won't need anything else from here, come with me''

The car in front of the sidewalk was something different and much more modern than what I was used to, it looked like something I had only seen on the streets and had never imagined but when he opened the door to let me in I knew something had changed.

He drove through the streets of Los Angeles, it was 4 am and the whole city was still asleep, the streets empty and the sky totally dark, he kept talking and talking about the many cities he had visited, all the people who had gone to see them and how great Ozzy was

''Sounds like you had fun'' I smiled at him looking at the city lights as he drove off the route we normally took and headed to the fancy area of ​​LA ''Honey where are we going?'' I looked at him curious, maybe he wanted to take me to a party with his friends and I barely had a shirt and my underwear on

''I'll take you where you deserve to be'' he smiled looking at me holding my hand as he drove ''Do you remember what I told you the day I asked you to be my girlfriend?''

''You said a lot of things Nikki, be specific'' I smiled hugging his arm breathing in his perfume and the scent of Jack Daniels and cigarettes, closing my eyes as I breathed in his presence

''I told you that you deserved the world and I was going to give it to you remember?'' I barely responded murmuring making him laugh ''well, that's what I want to give you'' the car stopped slowly and once the engine turned off everything was silent - ''open your eyes love, we're home''

''What?'' my eyes opened, looking at him curiously and then following his gaze to the house in front of us, it was beautiful just like we had once talked about, nothing luxurious or extravagant, just a home.

My heart was beating fast, almost making my chest jump, Nikki got out of the car, walked around it and opened my door offering me her hand to get out, I had never seen him move with such delicacy but that made me love him even more.

My bare feet touched the cold pavement, following him fearfully while my hands held his tightly until we stopped in front of a large fence surrounded by plants.

''Welcome home Mrs. Sixx'' I could feel his lips kissing my hair while his arms surrounded me from behind, as if he knew my legs felt like jelly and I could fall at any moment ''Do you like it? I asked Don for help to find a place that was just like we had imagined''

''But Nikki…'' - my eyes kept going back and forth between all the details of the front, the plants, the bricks, everything was perfect

''What's wrong love? You don't like it?''

''No no, it's not that, it's just that… it's ours?'' I looked at him curiously, still doubting if it belonged to us, how in such a short time he was giving me everything he had promised, I would never have imagined this while eating canned food in that old and small house where my mother had put us with a man who used to beat her.

''It's all our love'' Nikki laughed hugging me a little harder kissing my cheek ''From today, you won't have to go to work or go to sleep in the cold, do you understand? You will wait for me here at home and I will give you everything you deserve, you and our children who will grow up here''

We finally had a home and that night we took every room and corner we could find to give ourselves to each other for all the months without seeing each other, but the pleasure didn't last long and before I wanted it he left again to continue with the tour, this time leaving me with a new friend, Sharise.

She was the sweetest and funniest girl I could meet on my own, she was so attractive and daring, the opposite of me and when we found out she was pregnant I became her confidant and companion while Vince and Nikki continued with the boys on tour.

''Do you think it will be a girl or a boy?'' Sharise was looking at herself in the mirror while I was reading a magazine lying on her bed

''Mmm..possibly a girl I think'' I smiled at her watching as she caressed her belly over her pink dress

''Have you thought about having one?'' her blue eyes felt like knives as she looked at me through the mirror

''Have you thought about having one?'' I looked at her smiling, shaking my head in shame ''no..Nikki and I want to have children but we haven't decided when yet'' - my eyes returned to the magazine feeling my cheeks blush

''Oh come on, don't feel embarrassed sweetie, I'm sure you and Nikki have a very active sex life, right?'' She laughed coming closer sitting next to me with difficulty holding her big belly '' You can tell me, we're like best friends now''

My eyes tried to avoid hers, but she was right, we were like best friends and I had no one else to talk to, just Nikki and the bastard disappeared for months

''Well yes…when we're together we do it very often but…I don't know we haven't managed to get pregnant, maybe it's not the time yet''

''I understand, maybe it's because of all that shit Nikki gets into, he's a maniac, Vince told me that Nikki can't live without snorting cocaine and if he doesn't do it he gets aggressive'' She took the magazine reading the page she had left on without noticing that I was looking at her without understanding what she said.

''What do you mean with… all the shit he gets into?'' I sit up carefully without taking my eyes off her making her look at me the same way putting her face blank, maybe she thought I knew what Nikki did and although I had an idea I never imagined that the boys had him cataloged as a drug addict and aggressive

''Oh honey… I'm sorry I said it that way it's just that… I thought…'' she made a gesture taking her belly quickly taking a deep breath ''I know love, mom will be more careful''

''Are you okay?'' I approached worried taking her arm while she laughed nodding

''I'm fine honey, it's just that this naughty girl is kicking hard'' we both laughed relieved, more me than her apparently ''Look, put your hand here'' she held my hand taking it to her belly while a couple of kicks greeted me letting me know that whoever was inside her was listening to us ''Auntie is feeling you darling, be careful''

''Kick really hard, I'm sure it will be a girl and she will be very strong'' I smiled at her forgetting for a moment about our problems, I couldn't believe that this little being didn't even know me and already loved me, it was like creating my own family little by little

''I know and when your time comes you will also have very strong and beautiful babies like you and Nikki, can you imagine them?'' she jumped excitedly with her eyes shining ''They will have your beautiful hair and green eyes like Nikki, they will all be angels''

Since then there was not a day when I didn't daydream imagining all those children running around me, the house felt huge and empty, just me going back and forth from one place to another with nothing to do, it was so desperate sometimes that every call Nikki made at night made me want to demand that he come back and get me pregnant and not stop until he did, but my need was was overshadowed by my fears and didn't say anything.

Then December came and finally the boys had returned and two days later we were already at a party at Vince's house, it seemed like the boys couldn't stay away from each other and found any excuse to be together, surrounded by alcohol and groupies, drugs that even though Nikki wanted to hide them from me I could tell they were there and even more so when he told me he would "go to the bathroom" every 20 minutes and came back wiping his nose.

My conversations seemed even more interesting when Mick was with me, he seemed to be the only one who understood that I was already a married woman because Tommy kept joking around like the child he still was.

"Should I interrupt Mick? I don't have to remind you that you're talking to my wife, right?" Nikki sat next to me, putting her arm around my shoulders while holding a bottle of Jack Daniels.

''She's all yours bassist'' Mick sighed without hiding his back pain drinking from his beer

''What are you talking about, huh?'' Nikki looked at me too closely drinking from the whiskey

''About old people's things Sixx'' I smiled at him wiping the liquid that was left in the corner of his lip ''can we go home? Please''

''Why do you want to go home? Do you need to do something important?'' his eyes lost in alcohol and other things looked at me curiously

''I need to do important things with my husband'' I smiled at him arranging his hair out of his face barely kissing his lips

''You're disgusting, get a room'' Tom sighed crossing his arms making Tommy and Mick look at him while Nikki and I give him a killer look, it was something that made me feel so similar to him, we both disliked stupid people.

''Why don't you get a life Tom? It'll be easier than getting a girlfriend that Tommy doesn't fuck'' I looked at him annoyed, getting up from the couch while I heard Mick and Tommy laughing, making Tom look at the floor embarrassed ''I'll go with Sharise babe''

''Damn, how I love my woman'' Nikki barely expressed, slapping me on the butt while I could feel his gaze following me until I found Sharise on the stairs

''Sweetie, could you tell them not to go out for alcohol? We have enough'' she looked at me almost pleading ''Vince and Razzle want to go for more, they don't listen to me''

''They won't listen to you, you know them'' I smiled at her adjusting Razzle's hat on her head watching them walk through the door staggering from one side to the other

''Sweetheart… I mean, sweethearts'' Razzle laughed barely caressing Sharise's belly ''Mrs. Sixx'' the thin man bowed making us laugh as he left behind Vince, clearly both drunk

''Come on, let's go to my room, my back is killing me'' Sharise sighed going up slowly while I followed her ''I don't think the party will end early, if you want you can sleep here with me sweetheart''

''I think so, I've asked Nikki to go home several times and I can't convince him'' I sighed throwing myself on the sofa in her room, surrounded by silk cushions while I watched her come and go from her dressing room trying to take off her dress

''Help me with the zipper, I can't reach it'' my hands carefully open it while she held the front part ''did you try the insinuation thing?''

''Yep...maybe I need something more don't you think?…maybe…to be a little more sugestive?'' I looked at her curiously, waiting to receive her advice

''I don't think so, Nikki loves you just the way you are, honey, you shouldn't stop being yourself just because you think he's not interested in you anymore'' she looked at me taking off her earrings while sitting on her bed ''you have him crazy, the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you''

''You think so?'' I smiled at her feeling flattered and curious

''Of course you do, you know that they are always surrounded by girls right? Vince tells me everything and always says how much he admires Nikki for how she defends your space and doesn't let any whore take it''

Was it right to start daydreaming again? Nikki was my everything and knowing that I was my everything for him too made me feel complete and happy, I could see her fixing the blankets to sleep and putting her hair up but my head kept flying in how much she loved Sixx, not even the loud music made me land.

''Come on, go to bed, girl. You'll have more time to think about your husband and how much you want to fuck him'' she laughed, hitting the bed beside her, making me laugh. ''Take that robe, today we'll be pajama twins''

''Shut up'' I laughed, undressing without shame. We had done it many times and it was a common thing in our sleepovers as women forgotten by our rock star husbands. ''You know, I think I'm ready to tell Nikki''

''Tell him what?'' she looked at me curiously, adjusting her pillow.

''You know about… having a baby'' there was no way that just mentioning it would make me nervous, but it did.

''Really? It will be great, so Skylar will have someone to play with'' her cheeks seemed to explode with excitement with her smile

''Skylar?'' - I looked at her curiously as I lay down next to her

''Yes… Skylar, Vince and I decided that this is what our daughter will be called, we know it will be a girl''

''It sounds beautiful, Skylar is perfect for her'' We both seemed like a couple of teenagers whenever we talked about her little angel, we were excited to talk about her little clothes, her future toys or how she would look like Vince or her.

We could spend hours and hours without getting bored until we fell asleep like two little girls after eating too much sugar.

It was then that the sound of the party became something different, the music stopped and the noise seemed to increase as the cars accelerated at full speed moving away and I barely woke up and could notice that she was still asleep.

I carefully climbed out of bed, taking slow steps out of the room, watching as the crowd of strange people ran out of the place, my bare feet stepped on the cold tiles as I walked down the stairs, by then I didn't even remember that I was wearing a nightgown that barely covered my butt and my nipples were visible under the thin pink fabric.

''Tommy?'' I could feel the tension in his body as he was accompanied by a blonde girl who rubbed his back slowly ''Tommy what's wrong?''

''I...'' the boy looked at me scared, it seemed like he could barely draw air '' I..'' no other word came out of his mouth, his heaving chest drew air in slowl '' There was an accident… it seems there are dead people..''

''an accident?.. what do you mean an accident? '' my accelerated pulse made my ears vibrate- ''where is Nikki?''

''He's okay'' - the blonde girl looked at me calmly taking my arm ''he's in the living room''

As soon as I heard her words I ran out, not caring that the people running against me pushed me or my bare feet kicked empty beer bottles, I just wanted to see him and know that he was okay, I could see Mick leaning against the kitchen, Tom walking back and forth but it took me a long time to find Nikki who was on the couch covering her face

''Baby…honey what happened?'' my knees hit the cold floor while my hands caressed her hair- love are you okay?

''It's Vince..'' I could hear a sob and her breath cut off between his hands ''Vince had an accident''

''Vince?..oh my god…he…he's okay'' I took his hands slowly, carefully removing them from his face

''He's…he's okay but…'' his eyes were irritated, there were tears running down his cheeks and his hands were shaking between mine ''Razzle died…Razzle's gone…''

''Honey, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry'' I could barely hold him in my arms when he broke into a thousand pieces and began to cry, I had never comforted him like that, it broke my heart to see him this way, he had lost his friend and I couldn't imagine what I would feel if it happened to me when I lost him, my only best friend life would be so fucked up.

Atfer all, Is this being part of the fucking Motley Crue.

Thanks for all the interactions,

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[hldailyupdate]

“It’s one of those things that I think even being here now on the ground, talking about it, it will take me walking out on stage for me to fully comprehend— I’ve got goosebumps even saying it now; what all of that actually means. I didn’t anticipate to be here so quick in my solo career, that is only thanks to the loyalty and the passion from the fans, so, I’m just really in awe, really excited, but truthfully my excitement won’t peak until I walk out there and feel that on the night [of the show].”

-Louis on the emotion behind playing stadiums on the LATAM leg of his FITF World Tour. (2 April 2024)

via MTV Brasil

[morganbritton132]

Okay but why do o feel with the whole “it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” Eddie would bring release a song called ‘Eddie and Steve’?

The song is a retelling of the drama between Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve as Eve, Adam, and Steve. It’s told from the third person perspective of someone (Eddie) that is in love with one of the people in the love triangle (Steve). The gist of the song is basically ‘fuck Adam and Eve, I want Steve.’

They name the song ‘Adam and Steve’ but it still somehow gets misinterpreted as someone wanting to get with Eve. Every time someone is shocked to find out that Eddie is gay, he points to this song like, “I wrote this in 1992.” (Even though he wrote it in ’84. He’d just never admit how bad his crush on Steve actually was).

Eddie begs Steve to be in the music video, but Steve wholeheartedly refuses. He loves Eddie with all his heart, but nothing in this world would convince him to be a music video that would play on MTV. Steve tried theater in middle school and the stage fright was so he dropped out after a week.

Eddie does the next best thing; he has his manager ask Tom Cruise.

When Tom Cruise declines, he does the third best thing. He buys a camcorder, and they film a lot of home movies and turn them into a music video. There are a lot clips filmed inside of Nancy and Robin’s apartment because Steve was still living with them at the time so despite the fact that there is a clip of Steve running and jumping into Eddie’s arms and kissing him, people still think that the song is about a girl.

Eddie full on kisses a man in a music video and yet, he still has to publicly come out.

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