#put that on an album and give it to a one direction fan and tell them it was an unreleased single

[wildshadowtamer]

i am amazed by how accurate dan and swampy got the lumberzacks to be. like i get chop away at my heart stuck in my head and honest to god think it was a one direction song. truly the boy band hit song of the 2010s

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room. 

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep. 

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce. 

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show. 

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you. 

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name. 

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained. 

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No. 

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued. 

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower. 

No hair. 

No makeup. 

Great. 

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down. 

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit. 

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour. 

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for. 

Three interviews down, two to go.  

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.  

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated. 

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers. 

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is. 

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so” 

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life. 

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum, 

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest. 

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present. 

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh. 

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words. 

Betrayal? 

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath. 

You will not cause a scene. 

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you. 

You will not give him what he wants. 

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps. 

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick. 

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond? 

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet. 

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror. 

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red. 

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album. 

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process. 

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately. 

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour. 

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates. 

Well, mostly with Aemond. 

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now. 

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close. 

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name. 

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak. 

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body. 

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it. 

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can” 

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses. 

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches. 

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition. 

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained. 

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan. 

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin. 

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories. 

They hurt the most. 

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be. 

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own. 

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time. 

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving. 

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap. 

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you. 

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over, 

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented” 

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking. 

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks. 

“Of course”, you reply shortly. 

Why is he asking for permission? 

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds, 

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door, 

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind. 

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin. 

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room. 

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic. 

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you? 

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name. 

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night. 

“What would you do if I were there?” 

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background. 

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”. 

Aemond groans. 

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are. 

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you. 

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage. 

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good. 

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers. 

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’. 

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio. 

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing, 

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’ 

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him. 

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience. 

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best. 

Where you can contribute something to the world. 

Make people happy. 

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song. 

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder. 

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you. 

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing, 

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back. 

Fuck that. 

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell. 

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’ 

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down. 

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you. 

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching. 

Why is he suddenly so intimidating? 

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago. 

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago. 

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man. 

You hear the crowd cheer. 

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye. 

The crowd cheers louder and louder. 

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar. 

Never looking down. 

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

[chrissv4mp]

౨ producer!fem!reader × billie e. headcanons ৎ

★ — yipepepepeee cheer for me bc im posting something that isn't badddd yayayayayaaayy / first round of hcs in a while actually omg i js realized while writing??

☆ — smut & fluff

navigation...

— fluff :

★ — PROD!READER WHO... is always coming home to tell your girlfriend about the new beats you've worked on & making her listen to them because her feedback is more important than anybody else's (well, expect the artist themselves).

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... never misses the chance to bring billie along to the studio with you. the constant need to talk to someone about your beats and decisions eats you up inside, so who better than your hit music artist girlfriend to listen to your rants?

★ — PROD!READER WHO... helps billie make her beats and puts the song all together perfectly, all while billie is right by your side beaming at you with the biggest smile on her fave imaginable.

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... always makes sure billie is okay and ready to record before anything. you never hesitate to stop an entire session just because she had a sad look on her face. those times usually end with both of you on the couch in the back of the studio, her in your arms while she rants to about what's bringing her down.

your lips curl into a smile as you tap your fingers to the slow beat, "THE GREATEST," it's the 6th track of your girlfriends 3rd studio album, and you couldn't be more proud of her. as your head turns to look over at the mastermind herself, though, your smile fades and your fingers stop.

you're met with the sight of your girlfriends sad face, her eyes focused on the ground as she toys with the zipper of her jeans. the unplugged headphones around your neck come off as you place them down on the table, pausing the song before getting up and making your way over to billie, who sits on the couch in the back of the studio.

"don't even say nothing's wrong because that look on your face says otherwise," you start, taking a seat next to her as you reach over to set her on your lap. this surprises the girl, but she just gives you a gentle smile. a sigh leaves her pink, plump lips before she begins to speak about what's going on.

★ — PROD!READER WHO... is at every single one of billies concerts/shows and is always cheering her on. you're her biggest fan in and outside of the studio.

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... watches in awe as billie sings into the mic, hitting the notes perfectly. you're always blown away by her impressive vocals, praising her for it any chance you get.

★ — PROD!READER WHO... always makes billie watch the premiere of a new single/album that you helped an artist work on, pointing out little things that you're super proud of as billie just sits back and listens with a smile on her face. she never turns you down, even listening to the music while doing work on her laptop.

"the beat drop, oh my gosh! listen, list—did you hear it?" you ramble with a huge smile on your face, looking over your shoulder at billie who just hums and nods her head.

her eyes stay focused on your face the entire time, though, not caring very much about the music video or the album cover art that's displayed on your laptop screen, "yeah, it's amazing, ma." her words are both directed at you and the actual music, mainly at you... but you already know that.

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... makes your watermark an audio clip of your girlfriend saying your producer name. every time you've showed the girl a song you and an artist worked on, her own voice is the first thing that she hears.

— smut :

★ — PROD!READER WHO... loves to have billie ride your thigh while you work on a song from home. whenever she gets too noisy or touchy, you reprimand her for distracting you and threaten to leave her needy all while your eyes are glued to the laptop screen, not even giving her the smallest amount of attention.

billie gasps as her clit bumps against your thigh in time with the way you flex your leg, resulting in her head falling back as she lets out a long, breathy moan. when she hears your voice, her hips stutter, eyes snapping open to look over at you, "i told you to keep your fuckin' mouth shut, baby. 'm'tryna work and you know that. do you want me to lose my job?"

her immediate reaction is to shake her head, whining quietly as her hips pick up in speed. her pleasure seems to be increased just at hearing your low, raspy voice, and you smirk proudly, "js' wanna touch you, ma. please? been s'good."

your eyes finally meet hers, and the dominant look swirling in your pupils makes her realize that she's fucked up, "don't start with that shit. you've been acting like a needy fucking slut this entire evening, and you expect for me to let you touch me?" a cry falls from her lips as you push your laptop away and grab her hips, stopping her from moving anymore, "you've been bad, baby. bad girls don't get to cum and you know that."

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... recorded billie's breathy moans and gasps (with her consent) and used them for the background vocals of the 2nd track, "LUNCH," on her new album.

★ — PROD!READER WHO... loves to trick billie into opening an audio file that's just minutes of your moans and the filthy squelching sounds of your pussy. she always thinks it's a new beat or background vocals for a new song, and sometimes it is, but the times where it isn't, she's always rushing home from wherever she's at.

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... makes billie sit on your strap while in the studio putting together beats and background vocals for a new artist, thrusting your hips up only when you feel her start to relax and get comfortable. by the time you've finished for the day, she's already so overstimulated and fucked-out she can't even speak.

"almost done, bils." you whisper in her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck that makes her shiver. her walls flutter around the silicone cock buried deep inside of her, moaning loudly when you thrust your hips up, "bein' so good, love. always so good f'me, huh?"

all she can do is nod, dumb babbles leaving her mouth and falling right into your ear as she clings onto your body. her eyes are brimming with tears, the need to cum almost overpowering her want to please you, "wanna move, mamas, please. need to cum s'bad,"

when she hears the room go silent, her body tenses up and she whines into your ear, "you couldn't jus' wait a few more minutes, could ya?" you taunt, moving your hands off the mouse and keys in front of you and resting them on her hips. billie lets out a pornographic moan as you begin to pound up into her, "you wanted to cum, so don't start cryin' when i make you. ts' what you wanted, and i'm not gonna stop til' i'm satisfied, baby."

★ — PROD!READER WHO... fucks billie into the mattress after coming home from a successful awards show. the songs that you've both worked on play quietly in the background, setting the mood as you whisper praises into your girlfriends ear, telling her how much she deserved the awards and how amazing she is.

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... always seems to find your girlfriend in your lap, pulling at every article of clothing you wore that day as she whispers about how sexy you look so concentrated on the music you're working on. those times usually end with her eating you out like a starved woman.

★ — PROD!READER WHO... will push everything out of the way just to fuck the bratty attitude out of your girlfriend.

"this is taking too long, mamas. can't you jus' hurry up?" the tone of her voice was the thing that finally made you crack, and now you had her bent over your desk, your strap thrusting into her from behind as you pull her hair.

you huff into her ear, "since when were you allowed to speak to me like that, huh? tell me, slut." she only whines out into the room, eyes squeezed shut as she clenches around your strap, "'m'sorry! please, baby, please..! i js'—"

your hand meets her ass harshly, the pale skin slowly turning red from harshness of the slap. her body jolts forward, and she takes that as a hint to shut her mouth.

☆ — PROD!READER WHO... will always make sure everybody around you knows that billie is yours and only yours. your hand is always on her, and if it isn't, then there's multiple hickeys displayed on her neck for everyone to see. you don't like anybody stealing what belongs to yoi, and that goes beyond music.

@livialifesblog @mseilishmwah @mxqdii @sophloveswomen @devynscomet @her-favorite @br4ttyeilish @wiidfi0wer33

[bcacstuff]

Don't you think Sam should defend her

Well, I can imagine people would think as a first reaction he should, or should say something about it. But then again, if he does, I'm sure the fans who do these stupid things, would immediately see it as him confirming some sort of relationship or something. You know how this fandom, or better said the deranged ones in it are.

He can't do right in this case, he's between a rock and a hard place. We're talking about 2 women, should he address the entire fandom for this? And with that give it perhaps unwanted and more attention then it deserves? What will be the result of that, you might ask yourself. Of course we know there's much more going on in this fandom, but it isn't reserved solely for this fandom:

I've received a link a while back, and still have this article open on one of my tabs in the browser. I had the intention to answer the Anon that sent it to me a few weeks ago, but as there were so many things going on, I didn't want it to get buried by the many other posts.

It's this article:

There are some really good parts in it that can be translated one on one for this fandom, even though the artists in this article are musicians. Already in the first paragraphs you can read:

This summer, norms of pop flipped when musicians started telling off their fans. Leading the pack was Chappell Roan, the 26-year-old breakout star of 2024. In a statement on Instagram, she outlined the “too many nonconsensual physical and social interactions” she had had with fans, including people hassling her family and friends.

An expert view on it:

“The relationship between fans and artists is a power balance,” says Dr Lucy Bennett, a lecturer in journalism, media and culture at Cardiff University. “Sometimes the power can tip back and forth.” Fandom, she explains, is a deeply emotional thing where people can feel a sense of home and belonging. It can lead to an intense connection to the music, something only heightened by the access to artists provided by social media. “But the problem that we have is how fans can forge a direct connection when they’re one among potentially millions that follow the artist. Those artists can’t reach out to every fan online. But to those who aren’t noticed, how does this make them feel? And what lengths may some fans go to get noticed?”

A former deranged fan's experience

Someone who has grappled with this themselves is Emily, a 26-year-old Taylor Swift fan from Idaho. Emily, who asked to be referred to under a pseudonym for fear of being doxed, was once a dedicated Swiftie, spending thousands of dollars on merchandise and concert tickets. During the Lover era of 2019, however, she began to see contradictions in Swift’s image and found her sudden embrace of politics inauthentic and calculated. “I was upset because it seemed the person I thought she was wasn’t real,” she says. She was also put off by the growing toxicity among a fandom that no longer felt like a community. Prior to Swift’s hit album 1989, “Taylor had said that she wasn’t going to interact with fans on social media because one fan might feel more important than the other,” she says. But Swift began doing secret live sessions for fans, found via fan accounts online. “It did exactly what she thought that might,” Emily says. “Fans were suddenly fighting with each other saying, ‘You’re not good enough because you don’t obsess with her on the level I do, or ‘You don’t have as much merch as I do and you don’t know every song like I do.’ It was kind of gross.” Emily became so distraught that she would vent to her friends about her disappointment. “When I look back it now,” she says, “it’s like, wow. I was really deranged. Taylor Swift doesn’t know who the hell I am. She doesn’t care what I think. This is actually a me problem. I needed to step back and realise that.” She cites social media and the 24/7 access to information about Swift as one reason why she became so obsessed with the singer’s life. “I had to get some hobbies outside of discussing Taylor Alison Swift.”

And again the expert's view as an end conclusion

To realign the relationship between fans and artists, Bennett believes that musicians may need to step away from sharing so much of their lives on social media. “But it’s really important that they speak up if they feel that they’re experiencing unacceptable behaviour from the fans,” she adds.

It's a really good read, so if you're interested and have a bit of time, I'd recommend reading the whole article. There is no easy answer to this phenomena or to your question Anon.

PS. To Anon sending me the link a few weeks ago, thank you 🧡. You were right, I found this interesting. I'm sorry it took so long to post it, but it deserves all the attention.

[jordannnggg]

Going forward if you see one of the boys and approach them start off by giving them your condolences for their loss. Second, tell them your favorite memory of Liam or Liam with them. Third, if applicable, ask if you could give them a hug. Fourth, don’t trauma dump on them, you can say you sympathize, but they don’t need to know why Liam was important to you, especially if it involves suicide attempts or self-harm or a dead loved one.

Don’t ask them for photos. Don’t approach if they look visibly uncomfortable or like they’re trying to hide themselves. This is going to hurt them for the rest of their lives, but especially in the first few years and it’s an every single day pain. His birthday and the day of his death plus any One Direction related anniversary as well will be agonizing reminders of what they lost. Being famous doesn’t exclude you from grieving and if they don’t tour for a while or put out an album, let them know that that’s ok because it is. If Zayn cancels his entire tour tomorrow, let him, and tell him you’ll be waiting for him when he’s ready.

This was someone irreplaceable and even they, some of the richest artists in the world, can’t afford the cost of losing him so young. Just let them be, they’re 16 year old boys again trapped in their 30 year old bodies right now, and their pain is written all over their faces and little pink noses. They gave their fans everything for the last 14 years, we can give them some grace as they navigate through this new world without their brother.

[runningfrom2am]

kinda famous - d.s

summary: after your debut album charts in the top 100, you somehow get invited to the obx3 premiere. you went there to make connections- but maybe not the exact kind you ended up leaving with.

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: no warnings! just a meet-cute :), drew x musician!reader

requests

nav/masterlists

February 16th, 2023

Not a day went by this past year where you didn't consider yourself incredibly lucky. Your debut album saw some medial success, landing you in the Spotify top one hundred with the help of a TikTok trend to some of the lyrics from your first single. You could hardly believe it was real, sometimes. What always helped, however, is having connections.

Your best friend was a makeup artist to the stars. Working on movies like Avatar and even a few marvel films, but most notably and most recently, she's been working with Madelyn Cline. They've taken a liking to each other, having been in touch about every event, shoot, and movie she's been working on in hopes of having her new friend styling her look for the occasion. Luckily for you, your best friend is your number one fan- and hardly ever does she have a client who isn't forced to sit through your album while she's blending out the makeup on their faces or curling their hair.

Madelyn, apparently, had taken a liking to it. In the words of your best friend, "She was just gushing over it! She requests your music every time she's in my chair. I swear." So that, is how you ended up at the OBX3 premiere, shaking hands with one of the most beautiful actresses of your generation while she complimented both your dress and your music.

"I am seriously such a big fan. B/F/N put me on and I am literally obsessed." Madelyn smiles, dropping your hand.

"Oh my god, you're such a sweetheart- stop." You laugh, waving her off.

She smiles and leans in, resting her hand on your shoulder as she whispers in your ear. "Between us, I can't confirm anything just yet, but I'm working on getting you a soundtrack offer for season four."

You gasp, your hands flying up to cover your mouth to hide your shock. "No- you're literally joking!"

The blonde smiles and shakes her head, giggling and clapping her hands together excitedly. "We all listen to you on set- it's growing on the producers I think."

"Oh my god- Obviously I am so down! Allegedly, of course." You smile, winking at her.

"Yes, of course, Allegedly." She laughs, matching your wink. "I have to run, but we'll jump in for some photos together on the carpet, yeah?" Madelyn grins, giving you a quick hug and brushing past you in the direction of the curtain where everyone lines up for photos.

Feeling absolutely giddy, you're quick to lift your dress and shuffle over to the makeup room, where B/F/N was still working with some other clients doing some touch ups. "Oh my god!" You smile as you approach her chair, where she's just wiping up. You cringe internally at the sound of your music playing over her desk speaker, hearing the way you swore that the man you wrote this song about was the love of your life, and you'd be a fool to let him go. It wasn't long after the release that you ended up having to, discovering he was cheating on you with a girl from his hometown.

"Y/N! Hey girl! Did you get to talk to Mads?" She asks, looking back at you over her shoulder.

"Yes! And I have some serious tea to tell you later. Well- not serious, but good! It's definitely tea." You explain vaguely, knowing she'll understand.

"Yay! Okay, we'll debrief after." She nods. "Did you talk to anyone else?"

You instantly shake your head as she turns to face you. "God, no, I'm petrified." She doesn't answer, holding her finger up in your face and digging through her kit and pulling out a brush.

"Look up." She says, pointing to the ceiling and you oblige as she touches up the shadow under your eyes and brushes away some flaked mascara while she talks. "You need to. You've got to make some more connections- I can't carry you forever." She teases, placing the brush back in her belt when she's done. "They're a lovely cast, trust me."

You nod a little, taking a deep breath. "I just like... don't know what to do. Do I just walk around and talk to people?"

"That's the beauty of it! You're already doing it. Just show that stunning face of yours to the cameras with this beautiful dress, smile, make small talk, and opportunity will fall into your lap. I know you- everyone will love you regardless." She muses, quickly adjusting the waistline of your dress. "And report back to me- of course."

"You're not gonna come? I want some pictures with you. The world needs to see the artist behind this face." You grin, gesturing to your face of makeup and wiggling your eyebrows.

"Yes, of course." She giggles, smacking your shoulder playfully. "I'll change and come find you."

You smile and clap your hands together, bouncing in your heels. "Let's go together! I think I have to because I'm basically your plus one."

"No- absolutely not." She dismisses you quickly, closing up part of her kit and doing some quick organization. "You, my dearest Y/N, need to prove your independence in the industry. Just because you put out your Lover Era album doesn't mean you can't stand proudly on your own after the breakup. Your energy will draw all the cute boys to you. I just know it." She jokes at the end, but you know she's serious about her sentiment.

Your breakup wasn't fresh anymore- she was right. It didn't hurt and keep you up all night over heartache that you had assumed would never get better. You're thriving now, you feel like yourself again. "That's not why I'm here and you know that." You giggle.

"Of course not... It just would be a nice bonus." She shrugs. "Now shoo! You're distracting me. I'll see you in a few." She pushes you away, winking at you before returning to her cleanup duties.

You take a few breathes as you turn around, making a conscious effort to smile as you walk over to the curtain where crew is organizing people and sending them out onto the carpet.

Luckily, you spot the bar not far away, and quickly make your way over to grab a quick glass of wine before you have to step out. You try to sip on it casually, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but craving the buzz and freedom that comes with being a little tipsy around strangers.

"You're Y/N L/N, right?" Someone approaches you, and you quickly turn to the source of the voice.

"Yes, that's me." You smile, securing your glass in one hand before holding out your hand to shake. The woman takes it, smiling politely as she shakes it.

"Lovely. We're ready for you whenever, just go check in with that lovely gentleman by the curtain and you're free to walk when you're ready." The woman smiles, quickly taking off to go deal with more crew business.

You lean back against the bar, nursing your drink still and glancing in the direction of the dressing rooms and hoping your best friend would walk out in time to join you. You give it another minute as you finish your drink, feeling adequately warmed by the alcohol in your system before approaching the curtain.

"Hey! Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N L/N." You greet the man with the clip board and he nods, giving you a thumbs up and holding the curtain back for you to step out. You take deep breaths and focus on smiling (and not tripping) as you take the few extra paces behind a wall before you'll be in view of the many cameras you can already see flashing at the cast and their friends standing already in their full view. You hear lots of voices as you walk up, but they somehow get a million times louder as you step into the lights.

This isn't your first red carpet, but it is your first premiere. Besides the backdrop curtain, they have a variety of props from the show, including the Twinkie itself, making you giddy with excitement. You make a mental note to yourself to not leave without a picture of you behind the wheel for your instagram.

"Y/N! Look over here!" You hear a dozen voiced calling your name and you decide your best move is to smile and wave, stopping and placing one hand on your hip and just glancing across the whole crowd of camera men and interviewers behind the small fence. You give it a few moments to capture hopefully enough photos for their portfolios before an interviewer pulls you over to chat with them.

"Y/N! So nice to meet you. You look absolutely stunning!" They grin, shaking your hand and holding the mic up to your lips.

"Hello! And thank you so much! It's lovely to meet you too. What's your name?" You ask, smiling at them and giving a quick wave to the cameras still flashing in your face as they record you with one closer up.

"I'm Noah. I'm with Netflix just documenting everyone here tonight." He grins. "So, we were all excited to hear you would be coming tonight! Are you a fan of the show?"

"Oh my god, I'm a huge fan." You gush, looking around at the other people on the carpet. "I was just so lucky to be invited- I was ecstatic when I got the invitation from Madelyn. So nervous, though. So, so nervous."

"I can't imagine!" He chuckles, agreeing with you. "If it makes you feel any better, we've heard from a few members of the cast that they were looking forward to meeting you."

"That does actually help a lot, thank you." You giggle, a blush covering your cheeks. "You mind telling me who, though? I'd love to know who wants to talk to me and who I should probably not bother." You joke.

"Oh, nobody to avoid here. This is one of the nicest casts I've ever worked with." Noah assures you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "That being said, the boys seemed extra keen." He winks, making you laugh.

"Oh god, okay, I'll keep that in mind." You go along with it, looking around and seeing the rest of the cast goofing off a little ways away.

"So, I have to ask, Y/N- keep in mind you don't have to answer if you don't want to, about your breakup- how are you doing? Your album is absolutely amazing, you told a beautiful story, but we've all heard about what happened afterwards." He says, and you glance down nervously, trying to maintain your smile as best you can.

"Yeah, totally. Uh-" You pause for a second. Your ex has never been in the public eye- you were highschool sweethearts, which gave your album a sense of purity and authenticity that was almost rare in modern music. With that, however, comes a responsibility to keep him out of public scandal in the fallout of the albums success. "I am doing really well. I believe my ex is as well. Of course he was always a huge inspiration for me, and he always supported me and my dreams, so I know he's still cheering me on, which is a nice feeling." You nod, smiling as Noah drops his arm from around your shoulders, patting your back.

“Well, you’re stronger than I am because I would want him to be punching the air right now.” Noah laughs.

“No! God, no, I’d never want that for him. I wish him all the success in the world, which just means something different for both of-“ You try to explain, when you get bumped from behind and stumble slightly forward. You let out a little squeak and try to turn to look what happened when someone steadies you by your waist.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to knock you there.” A man chuckles, making sure you’re steady before letting you go. You’re met with blue eyes that reflect the lights and the matching colour of his suit just beautifully, and you quickly recognize him as Rafe- quickly racking your brain for the actors name. Drew- yes. That’s it.

“No! No you’re fine- I was in the way.” You say sheepishly, laughing it off and adjusting your dress again.

“Drew, Welcome back! While I’ve got you both here,” Noah says, holding the microphone up to him as he nods, leaning down a little in anticipation of the question. “Have you listened to Y/N’s album? We were just talking about it.”

Drew nods, smiling and locking eyes with you again briefly. “Yes, of course. It’s both Maddie’s favourites right now, they’ve always got it playing on set. If it wasn’t so good I’d be sick of it.” He chuckles.

“Aw- thank you!” You grin. “Thanks for listening even if it’s against your will.” Your eyes connect again and you feel yourself blushing once more, he just has this aura about him that shows he’s really listening and really cares what you have to say. “Not to plug it here or anything, but we’re almost at ten million streams on spotify so I’m feeling really proud of it, it truly was a passion project for me. Sorry…” You explain, looking back at the interviewer again, trailing off when you realize you’re acting selfishly.

“No, don’t apologize. You worked hard on it- you deserve to talk about it.” Drew cuts in before Noah can speak. “Everyone stream it- you won’t regret it.” He says, pointing to the camera.

“Yes, absolutely.” Noah agrees. “We won’t take up any more of your time, but I’ll let you know we’re all looking forward to your next album already.” He smiles, giving you a quick hug.

“Thank you!” You wave as him and his crew are quick to move onto someone else. You take a deep breath, turning and jumping slightly when you see Drew still standing there, looking down at you as you clasp your hand against your chest. “Oh, gosh. I didn’t know you were still there.” You giggle, quickly adjusting your hair.

“Sorry.” Drew chuckles, holding his hand out to you. “We haven’t properly met. I’m Drew. Or you might know me as Rafe, I guess.”

You smile, taking his hand and shaking it. “Y/N. You might know me as the girl who got cheated on right after releasing an album about how amazing her relationship is.”

This makes him laugh, dropping his head back as he lets go of your hand. “Hey, it’s good to have a sense of humour about it I guess.” He says, locking eyes with you again. His charisma is truly captivating- it’s rare you meet someone in the Hollywood scene who seems to care about anyone other than themselves.

“I’m coping.” You shrug, laughing it off with him.

“Let’s grab a few pictures together, then maybe a drink?” Drew suggests, guiding you back towards where the rest of the cast was taking photos with the beat-up van parked on the carpet. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“Yeah! Yeah- thank you.” You smile, glancing over your shoulder and seeing your best friend stepping out. She quickly waved at you, giving you an excited look and a thumbs up, which you return behind his back.

No doubt the pictures of this moment will embarrass you tomorrow, but at least the debrief with your best friend in the uber home will have a lot of good things to cover.

taglist: @slut4drudy , @madelynie , @mutual-mendes , @sadfury (i just tagged some mutuals who like my other stuff so if you want to be added or removed lmk!!)

reblogs and feedback are very appreciated as always :)

[fcble]

The following transcript has been edited for length and clarity.

VIOLET: Welcome to the sixteenth episode of “Lightspeed’s Ansible” and the third episode of “On the Same Wavelength,” where I interview your favorite idols. As always, visit officiallightspeed on your favorite social media platform, and leave a comment in the post for this episodes with who you’d like to see next, and any topics you want us to cover. Today’s guest, who you probably already know from the title, is the perfect fit for the new year. His group is synonymous with the Lunar New Year, and although we’re not quite there yet, I’m excited to have the chance to speak with him today. Could you please introduce yourself to our listeners?

ANDREW: Once upon a—[sharp inhale] I don’t like that. Hey everyone, I’m Andrew from Fable. You might know us from “Gaja” or “Home Run” or maybe even “Platonic Love.” It’s more likely you might not know me at all, which is why I’m here. I’ve never done our introduction in English before. It’s weird.

VIOLET: I totally get it. Every time Ash leads us through our greeting, I die a little inside. One Direction never had to do this. Do you go by any nicknames? Or do you prefer Andrew?

ANDREW: Yejun, for important work documents. Andrew is fine.

VIOLET: Andrew it is. Why don’t we get started with why you’re here today?

ANDREW: I’m releasing my first album as a solo artist. My debut EP, 80303, contains five tracks I’ve been working on for some time. I’m thrilled I can finally share it with everyone.

VIOLET: That’s a different approach to album titles from your music with Fable. How did you come up with it?

ANDREW: 80303 is one of the zip codes in Boulder, where I grew up. I picked this one because it also contains 303, which used to be the only Colorado area code.

VIOLET: Not because you lived there?

ANDREW: [laughs] That’ll have to stay a secret.

VIOLET: As an advanced listener, I saw all of your songs feature the band The Year 2000. Can you tell us a little about them and how you came to work with them?

ANDREW: Absolutely. They're a bunch of my friends from college. They became The Year 2000 as I know and love them now a few years after I graduated. If Fable didn't work out, I would have loved to be a part of their band. When it came to putting together my solo album, I knew I wanted to work with them. This is the first time I've truly had complete control over an album, so I invited them all to Korea to collaborate.

VIOLET: That sounds like it must have been a lot of fun. What was the biggest difference between working on this album and the music you've written for Fable?

ANDREW: With Fable, there are always these expectations. What we're supposed to sound like, how we're supposed to act, the type of concepts we can do. I know it’s part of being an idol, but sometimes it feels more intense for my group. Having the creative freedom to develop my own separate sound and identity was definitely the biggest difference.

VIOLET: I get that. It’s like once you do something, it’s the only thing everyone expects from you forever, especially as a public figure. 

ANDREW: Exactly.

VIOLET: So if you were part of The Year 2000, what instrument would you play?

ANDREW: I’d want to be the lead singer. Sela is a great singer and I love her, but I moved to be a singer. I can’t give that up.

VIOLET: I actually didn’t expect that. You strike me as more of a multi-instrument type of person. Like if I handed you a mandolin or something right now, you’d be able to play it.

ANDREW: [laughs] I’ve never gotten that before. The only instrument I can play with any degree of confidence is the piano. The Year 2000 doesn’t have a dedicated keyboard player, so if they ever let me into their band, I’d probably be stuck behind a keyboard all the time. 

VIOLET: Speaking of moving, how did you get into kpop?

ANDREW: I was never a fan of any specific groups. The industry was more of another opportunity to have a music career, since things weren’t working out at home. If auditions didn’t pan out, I wanted to attempt a survival show.

VIOLET: Really? Survival shows are intense. I’m still surprised I survived one. No pun intended.

ANDREW: [laughs] It worked out well for you. I don’t have a podcast.

VIOLET: It’s not that different from any other live stream or variety show. Honestly, I would have expected more groups to do it. Every online celebrity has one now.

ANDREW: I doubt anyone wants to listen to my group bicker for an hour straight.

VIOLET: Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad. Is everything an argument?

ANDREW: Yes.

VIOLET: [laughs] If you’re a Lightspeed member, cover your ears for the next thirty seconds. I thought we were going to be like that. Considering we were literally competing against each other a few months ago, I never thought everyone would be so friendly.

VIOLET: This is when I’d usually ask a few questions submitted by fans, but since this is a special episode, I don’t have any questions from your fans. I thought we could go through a couple of the topics my group members and I use in our other episodes instead.

ANDREW: You have a lot of suggestions.

VIOLET: I’m sure some of them write down their questions multiple times. [paper rustles] “What was the most surprising thing about moving to Korea?” There’s a note on here in parentheses that says, “Learning the sh—[beep] things my parents did were culturally normal.” I think Constance wrote this. Do you mind if I answer first?

ANDREW: Not at all.

VIOLET: I had a similar experience to Constance, if she was the one who wrote this. When I first moved, I had a hard time adjusting to the social hierarchy. It’s probably stereotypical of me to say this. I was a teenager and I just couldn’t wrap my head around speaking formally to girls a year older than me. I moved companies a lot in the first few years. I was always the new one who had to speak politely because I never stayed anywhere long enough to gain any seniority.

[silence]

ANDREW: I was going to say squat toilets, but now I’m embarrassed.

VIOLET: No, I took it too seriously. I should have also picked something more light-hearted. What was your story?

ANDREW: It’s not much of a story. Jaeseop’s family runs a series of hanok-style guesthouses, and we stayed there for a few days before our debut. We started in the most traditional rooms and then had to move to the modern ones by the end. I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t handle it, which was a relief. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I think we were also supposed to film a variety show at the same time. It didn’t help our image to have us all long for real beds while Kiyoung and I considered running to the nearest subway station whenever we needed more modern plumbing.

VIOLET: [paper rustles] This one’s relevant to both of us. “If you had to have a stage name, what would it be?”

ANDREW: The answer I’d give now and what I chose for my stage name almost ten years are very different. I hope I’m less pretentious than I was back then.

VIOLET: So what’s your new stage name? I’m on the edge of my seat here.

ANDREW: [laughs] To be honest, I didn’t get that far yet. Andrew works fine for now. This is an old story for long-term Fabulists, but I picked Yejun for the Hanja characters because I knew more Mandarin Chinese than Korean when I first came to Korea. It’s so embarrassing to think about it now. At the time, I thought about how parents name their kids for traits they want them to have. In hindsight, it’s not nearly the same thing when you’re twenty-something and naming yourself for your future career. Did you ever have a stage name?

VIOLET: I didn’t pick it myself, but it’s almost as embarrassing. When I first debuted, I went by Bora.

ANDREW: Like Violet.

VIOLET: Yep. I think some executive was super proud of himself for that name. I don’t think that company ever came to terms with me being Vietnamese. If they gave me a Korean name, they could try to pretend I was more like everyone else.

ANDREW: No offense to any of my management, but that’s the exact same reason they gave me. They blamed me for the fact that my parents never gave me a Korean name. I’m pretty sure they don’t have Korean names either.

VIOLET: Same for my parents.

VIOLET: That’s all the time we have for today. Before you go, can you give us any hints for Fable’s upcoming album? I assume you have an upcoming album. When is the Lunar New Year anyway?

ANDREW: January 29. Don’t expect anything on that day. We’re always fashionably late. I can’t share much, but we are working an album. It’s something people would expect from us, and I hope everyone enjoys it.

VIOLET: So no surprises?

ANDREW: No surprises. My being here is the biggest surprise of this year.VIOLET: Thanks so much for that. To all of our listeners, thanks for tuning in. You can find Andrew’s album, 80303, on all streaming services at twelve AM local time on January 7, 2025. As always, I’ll see everyone next week for another episode of “Lightspeed’s Ansible.”

[acernusaurus]

Legends' Gifts For The Avalance Baby's First Birthday

I was thinking about this for fic reasons but it quickly evolved into its own thing. Let me know if you've got any other ideas.

Ray and Nora

They would give a useful invention and/or magical charm. I'm thinking something that would make parents' lives easier without being an untested, potentially dangerous device around an infant/toddler.

Kendra and/or Carter

Separate or together (I'm not really a fan of the comics direction) I think they would get the most normal gifts as the people who have been parents many times.

Mick

Crème brûlée torch. 'It's for food' is his only explanation when anyone questions it.

Jax

Custom made plastic throwing stars

(Curse AI for being evil and forcing me to Photoshop my own dang nonsense)

Nate and Zari

A set of funny/cute shirts. Stuff like: 'Future ninja', 'My favorite uncle is a Historian', gamer stuff, etc. And maybe something from the ancestors that they say every baby should have.

Behrad

I feel like he would write the baby a song as his gift. And when it ends up on his first album in his own time the kid can't tell anyone about it being hers.

Gary

I think he'd stick with simple: stuffed octopus. Or go way too wild and try to buy everything.

Wally

A trinket from his travels.

Zari

Mithra Merch. Zari doesn't even need to bring it from the future. She happens to know a certain influencer's passwords and promo codes and puts the baby on the list for a very large Dragon Girl fan package.

Charlie

Bass guitar. 100% stolen from someone famous.

Mona

A ton of kids books

Astra

Astra would waffle over what babies want for their birthday and then finally just settle on giving her money.

Spooner

Mushroom plush. It was supposed to be a joke but it becomes the kids main lovey because kids are delightfully unpredictable.

(I didn't expect to have a picture for this one but I stumbled across this while shopping and it was perfect)

Gwyn

Haunted doll (not intentionally). Zari lends Gwyn $50, which already freaks him out (inflation calculator says it's ~$900). And when he tries to go to the mall he walks into the Macy's (a name he recognizes) but enters through the underwear-section door and he instantly turns back around to walk out. Eventually he finds an antique store with this perfectly acceptable children's gift and she is 100% haunted but the ghost is chill.

(I cruised through the doll aisle at a thrift store to find one I liked for this)

Gideon

Gideon has only known one baby personally so I think she'd go with some hot 22nd century or historic toy that was Jonas' favorite as a baby. Or she'd pick the toy with the best reviews at the exact time of the birthday.

[joesalw]

Not her coming out with an album with a long ass title. She wants to be Lana so bad. SZA was robbed for AOTY, Kelly Clarkson was robbed for best pop VOCAL album (I mean, c'mon now).

Scammys are constantly snubbing Black creators in the major categories. Only 3 black women have won AOTY in the 66 years of the Grammys existence. Two of those albums were cover albums of mainly white acts ( Unforgettable...with Love by Natalie Cole and The Bodyguard Soundtrack by Whitney Houston). The last BW that won AOTY was Lauryn Hill's "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" which won 25 YEARS AGO.Even Mariah Carey hadn't won this category. What baffles me the most is the fact that the most awarded artist in the Grammys history hadn't won a single one AOTY and only has 1 (ONE!) award from the big 4 (Record of the year, Song of the Year, Album of the year and best new artist). She'd won it for Single Ladies. Out of all the hit songs she has, that was the only one that got awarded (imo one of her worst songs).

Renaissance got snubbed last year. And this year we see a tendency of streaming artists (Ariana's newest song comes to mind first) following the Renaissance's sound and house music's becoming trendy again. The Grammy voters even said 'We didn't vote for Beyonce on AOTY because she's won too many already'. Too many my ass. This woman's won only one Grammy outside of the genre category. And the genre categories they put black and brown people in are truly outrageous. No matter what they do, no matter how many new sounds and sub genres they invent, they will always be boxed into R&B and Urban categories. I mean, her country song from 'Lemonade' album 'Daddy Lessons' got snubbed in the country category and got rejected a nomination for being 'not country enough'. Bitch, please. From the first five seconds it's obvious to even non-country listener that it in fact, is a country song. And people that vote for this stuff are supposedly professional musicians and music experts. These same people box The Weeknd's music into R&B categories when he's clearly making pop music.

Jay-Z's speech was just a cherry on top for me. After Swift in her acceptance speech said that " I want to say 'thank you' to the members of the recording academy for voting this way but I know that the way that the recording academy voted is a direct reflection of the passion of the fans" while smugly polishing the Grammy, this man went on stage to get his lifetime achievement thingy and completely obliterated the same institution that Swift was ass kissing just a few minutes prior. He went on and said: " We want y'all to get it right. At least get it close to right. And obviously it's subjective because it's music and it's opinion based. [About his wife] She has more Grammys than everyone and never won AOTY so even by your own metrics that doesn't work. Think about that: the most Grammys, never won AOTY. That doesn't work. Some of you are going to go home tonight and feel like you've been robbed. Some of you may get robbed, some of you don't belong in the category. *everyone gags* No, no. When I get nervous... I tell the truth. But outside of that, we got to keep showing up. And forget the Grammys for a second, just in life, you gotta keep showing up until they give you all those accolades you feel you deserve, until they call you chairman, until they call you a genius, until they call you the greatest of all time". To me that sounds like "POC have to work twice as hard to get half as far". Not a big Jay fan but the speech was great. I'm sure he got his ass whooped on the way home for saying that.

Then the Grammys have proven him right by celebrating white mediocrity by giving Midnights AOTY. The outrageous thing is, only three Black women have won AOTY, she now has four. And many talented black people don't have a single one. The bodies of work that transcend genres, cultures and languages. The bodies of work that have much better musical components and lyrical content. The bodies of work that can stand the test of times and sound fresh and new even 10 years after their release. Artists that aren't afraid to step out of their comfort zone, experiment with genres (Whatever Swift calls 'experiments' don't go outside of the pop genre (Country-pop (Red), synth-pop (1989, Lover), electropop (rep, Lover), acoustic pop and alt-pop (Folkmore)). Beyonce, Kendrick Lamar, TLC, Missy Elliott, Usher, Kanye (his artistic side), Alicia Keys, Lil Wayne, Frank Ocean, and many more black music creators deserve their flowers. They are the ones that are inventing new shit and setting trends in various genres of music, they are the ones that put the most effort into their presentation and live performances. I'm sick and tired of the major showbiz institutions overlooking black, brown, asian, indigenous excellence. These people deserve to be rewarded for their hard work in the same capacity these institutions reward white (anglo) people. I'm sick of people celebrating white mediocrity and overlooking art of different cultures, ethnicities, races.

Now she's gonna be insufferable for at least another year. I've been listening and enjoying her music for the past 5-6 years (not a fan but a casual listener) for the lyrical content of her songs but she's not a poet in any way. Lana's been a staple for me in that regard. And the fact that she dragged her on stage to have that "Adele to Beyonce" moment just gave me the ick. I wouldn't be surprised if Swifties are taking Jay-Z's speech as a sub for TS's wins (haven't gone on twitter yet). I mean, if the shoe fits. Also wouldn't be surprised if she herself took it as a jab to her ego. She's also clearly drunk and possibly on some ❄️ (just my opinion). The only deserved AOTY she has is the Folklore one. And don't get me started on her EMMY win. The fact that a visual masterpieces like Lemonade and Homecoming lost to Carpool Karaoke is absolutely absurd to me. Also the fact that her visual album for her "Lion King" project wasn't even nominated when every single one of those in the category were comedy specials is especially infuriating (If anyone's interested, some of the music videos are up on Youtube). And Swift comes along and swoops up hers in a bullshit category with no actual nominees? Nah, things don't work like that. Or at least, they shouldn't.

Anyway, SZA and Lana were robbed. Victoria Monet's won Best New Artist, Miley got her first win, Phoebe Bridgers went home with the most wins of the night and everyone only talks about Taylor Swift. I'm patiently waiting for the tower to fall. She desperately needs a reality check. This drunkard didn't even acknowledge Celine Dion who handed her the award. I mean, she didn't even look at her. But proceeded to have a cringe and unnecessary handshake with Jack Antonoff. You're in a professional setting, behave like an adult and save those handshakes for the afterparty or do it behind the stage after giving a speech. She proceeded to drag Lana on stage to the point where she was trying not to fall. At this point I'm convinced that swifties have brainwashed her into the thinking that the nicest thing she can do for someone is grace them with her presence. Ana Clara's family serves as a great example.

Her hair was a miss, she looked like she was wearing a wedding gown and the black gloves didn't help. Her make up made her look old. Her accessories were excessive and tacky and it looked like she was also wearing hip pads, shoes were giving late 00s-early 10s. Overall, fire the whole styling team. You're a global superstar that's a billionaire and you look cheap as fuck.

TL;DR : She shouldn't have won. Lana and SZA were robbed. She once again made the night about herself and her narcissism peaked in the moments where she'd accepted her awards. Black creators are criminally overlooked. She ass kissed the grammy voters and Jay-Z shamed them just a few minutes later and was right. She needs to get rid of her stylist, hair stylist and make up artist. Another drunk award show. Beyonce should have at least one AOTY. Sick and tired of people celebrating white mediocrity in show business.

Sorry for the long ass paragraph, just felt like it was a safe space to vent 💜

you guys can vent all you want. I'm here for it🤏

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Alan Carr Chatty Man 2011

2011

Part 10

I stand nervously pulling down my skirt next to Liam as we wait to be introduced

“Stop worrying’ you look great” Harry says placing a hand on my shoulder

“That’s not it. I just don’t know why I’ve been put in such a short skirt. I feel like my ass is exposed”

“Here” Niall hands me his flannel to wrap around my waist. At least it will give me a little bit of coverage

“Thank you”

“It’s One Direction” I hear Alan Carr say and the audience cheer. I follow the boys down the stairs, holding on to the railing so that I don’t fall

“Hello gorgeous” Alan says hugging me after the others. We are lead you the sofa where we will be doing the interview. I sit in between Harry and Liam and cross my legs over “who wants a drink?”

“Me!” Niall says quickly making me laugh

“Now you two can’t have one because your only 17” Alan says to me and Harry

“I’ll have a pork scratchin” Harry responds

“Aww. Now some of your fans are pretty young. I saw one girl in her school uniform saying ‘Harry Harry give me some of your gravy”

“Eww” i scrunch my nose up as Harry places his head in is hand

“YN and Louis and Liam your all in relationships. How supportive are your partners?”

“Very supportive actually. James trusts me and I trust him” I give Alan a shrug

“Same here” Louis says smiling

“You lot are living the dream right now ain’t ya? and you boys have moved into swanky new bachelor pads. YN you’ve moved in with your boyfriend is that right?”

“Yeah that’s right” Niall says

“Do you live near each other?”

“Yeah. Harry an Louis live together, YN lives across from them and the rest of us have our own places in a complex” Zayn tells Alan

“Yeah me and Harry live together” Louis places his arm over Harry’s shoulders

“Do you still take your washing back home?”

“No they bring all their washing to mine and make me do it” I laugh

“Really?”

“Yeah. My washing machine seems to be on all the time”

“Hey we buy you food to say thank you” Louis says looking at me

“That’s true”

“Zayn your a bit of an int ya”

“Err I dabble”

“Is he a good drawer?” Alan asks and we all respond with yes’ or nods of the head

“What do you draw?”

“Mainly cartoons. I also draw the lads and YN sometimes”

“For Christmas Zayn drew me a picture of Cookie”

“Cookie is your dog right?”

“Yeah” I smile nodding my head

“Do you think you can draw me?” Alan asks getting a note pad and pen from behind his chair

“I can give it a go”

“Now I’m sensitive about me face so don’t make me look like bugs bunny. I have feelings to Zayn ya know”

The interview continues, Zayn shows Alan the picture which definitely isn’t his best work. We talk about our first album and the recording process. The boys, myself and Alan then have a dance off which I think I won.

[believesthings]

The inspiration invitation // Jason sudeikis x famous reader

As a joke, you started to separate your songs into two folders: love songs for Jason and sexy songs for Jason.

You kept it going though, cause it made you laugh.

Your label was pressuring you for just one more song to round out your new album and you’ve been struggling with it all week. They weren’t wrong. You did agree it was missing just a little something. The trouble was finding the perfect song to fill its spot.

As cliche as it sounds, this was the album that you were the most proud of. You know every artist says that about every new album they release, but it really didn’t feel like an exaggeration to you to say that this was your best.

You really pushed yourself lyrically and vocally to a space you haven’t before and you hope your fans love it as much as you.

The problem, of course, is that since you’ve pushed yourself lyrically, you have a very specific story you want to tell. Every song on the album is perfectly placed to unfold the story in the direction you want and trying to not only find a new song to fit the theme but also a perfect place to put it so it still flows is proving to be one hell of a task.

Two doors down, your boyfriend was in a similarly stressful boat. Jason has been tied to the editing chair for weeks. The first two seasons happened prior to all the awards. Now that the show had turned out to be far more successful than anyone could have predicted, the pressure was on to make a 3rd and final season that was worthy of the praise the show had received so far. Taking off his headphones and taking his hands through his hair, he determined he needed a break; as much as he instinctively wanted to keep going until something was perfect, he had to acknowledge that sometimes the best thing to do was walk away and come back with fresh eyes.

You were so focused on your own project that you barely even registered jason sitting down next to you until he start kissing your shoulder blade.

“Are those folders for me?”

“What?” You ask, not looking up from your own screen.

“I wanna see.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” You ask Jason, tearing your eyes away and finally looking at him. God he was a sight.

“I’m taking something called a break, you’re probably overdue for one yourself.” He teased you.

“I know. And I will - I promise. I’ve just found a really good groove and I didn’t want to lose it.”

He rubs circles into your thigh. “…maybe the answer is in one of those folders.”

You laugh at him. “Oh, you think so?”

He nods seriously at you, “I can help you sort through them, If you need any help.”

You grab his hand from your thigh, intertwining your fingers in his and giving a light kisses to his knuckles. “You’re really not gonna let this go are you?”

“Well, can you blame me? I see folders with my name and the words ‘sexy and love’ obviously, I’m going to be intrigued.”

You put your laptop off to the side, snuggling into Jason. “Well, you’re obviously the only man I’m writing songs about these days-“

“damn right.” Jason quips, smirking at you.

Rolling your eyes you continue, “and my manager always likes to tease me that I have two moods for you which is disgustingly in love and disgustingly horny, so - as a joke, I started separating all my songs into those two categories. I keep doing it though cause it’s fun.”

“So, what mood is winning right now?”

picking your laptop back up, you open up the folders giving a quick scan at the numbers. Jason peaks over your shoulder, surprised by how many songs there actually are. Some titles he recognizes, some he’s never seen. It’s one of those moments, that might seem small and inconsequential but it feels oddly special to him. To have someone here, in his home, that spends their time trying to put him into words. Everyone always thinks that the big PDA moments are the sweetest, but he’s discovered that a lot of those experiences are filled with belonging but not with love.

“Looks like love songs has the lead right now.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at you, he replies, “really? Well I’d be more than happy to help in the sexy department if you need some inspiration.”

“I’m supposed to be working.”

“This is work! I’m giving you inspiration to write another song for your album, so you can add a sixth Grammy to that collection in the bedroom.”

“I thought you were taking a break.” You question him.

“Oh, pretty girl, spending time with you is not work to me.” He snags your laptop out of your lap and is quickly picking you up off the couch. He gives you just enough to time to get your bearings before he’s kissing you and leading you into the bedroom.

In between kisses on your neck, he’s whispering to you, “you know, I read somewhere that you shouldn’t wait for inspiration, sometimes inspiration needs to be invited. So, what do you think? Are you up for inviting me to inspire you?”

“Of course I am Jason. Always.”

He tilts his head to the side nonchalantly. “Still doesn’t hurt to ask.”

He lays you down on the bed and your head turns over to see his own laptop sitting in the corner. Remnants of your man hard at work. Headphones, an open journal with a red pen resting on it’s open pages.

“Hey.” He says tilting your head back to look him in the eyes. “This is about you right now - my work will still be there when I’m done. If it makes you feel better, since I’m helping you, you can always help me with my work too.”

“What? Jason I don’t know anything about editing a television show!”

“So?” That’s okay. I don’t really feel like I do either most days.” He jokes.

You go quiet, reaching your fingers up and playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “If I did offer to help, does that mean that I could get a sneak peak into season 3, maybe even-“

“No. Sorry can’t do it.”

“Oh come on! Can’t you at least give me a release date?”

“Sorry, you’re just gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Man, what good is sleeping with the boss if it doesn’t get me anything?” You pout at him.

“Oh now that isn’t true. I think we’ve clearly established that sleeping with the boss gets you Grammy award winning songs. So, come on let’s write you another one.”

[thedroloisms]

like ultimately speaking i don't even think that public discussions into the identity of shubble's ex are that necessary. at a certain point i think it's up to personal discretion, especially in terms of different platforms - for example, having a certain amount of discretion when it comes to spaces where it's more likely for shubble to see. that being said, at a certain point, it was obvious that the calls to Not Speculate, to Not Bring Up Him why are you saying his name he doesn't have to do with this i'm going to wait until shubble makes a statement if she wanted us to know then she'd say his name :) were doing a shit ton more harm than good?

like, shubble wasn't making an accusation. why people were flat out expecting her to say more in itself is beyond me. at the end of the day, people's willingness to continue supporting a content creator is a personal decision - shelby certainly wasn't trying to frame her stream as an allegation with proof. it was an ancedote about a personal experience with relevant details. along that same note, taking up pitchforks and banging on the door of the person in question is ??? again, the stream was hardly framed as an accusation & proof, and that was on purpose. whether or not one believes that he deserves a platform, with the great pains that shelby has taken in order to keep themselves from directly pointing at any specific person and making a direct accusation, brigading in their name in ways meant to directly attack the person in question feels...distasteful, literally for her sake.

like, any fan is capable and has the right to withdraw their support at any time, and giving other people reasons to withdraw their support isn't wrong either, as stating one's opinion is obviously perfectly fine. but uhhhh direct attacks without an explicit accusation being made are a bit of a different story.

but back to the first point, watching people in real time go Oh Don't Bring Up [Name] Sweaty :) was ???? like, it's impossible to go without acknowledging that if it wasn't him, that the amount of coincidences between her ex and the cc would be EXTREMELY high. "there's millions of ccs in england" and shubble was spending hours a day and in the apartment of every single one of them??? like be fucking fr??? this isn't even a case of it's a 50/50 between him and some other guy just based on the number of coincidences as described by shelby's one (1) stream alone, not to mention the corroborating evidence of things like the year's worth of content they produced with each other in recent years. and like, the literal album. which meant that even with the extremely likely possibility of him being the person, people were fucking tripping over themselves to scream NOT TO SPECULATE !!! DONT SAY IT'S [NAME] !!! to the point where when i clicked on the trending tab, tweets along those lines made up at least half if not more of the results. tweets she clearly saw, based on statements by her and her mods. like, look, even if the calls not to speculate came from a place of good intentions, they were all getting swallowed up by the noise of people explicitly telling other people Out Loud not to bring up the possibility of the man who was very likely the person she was talking about as being her ex - all while claiming to speak in her name #believevictims [words they continue to put in her mouth].

like, yeah, when you're going DONT TALK ABOUT HIM!!!!! this totally looks like you care about her and her story and not like a silencing tactic.

[silentglassbreak]

The plot with Jolly at the fest sound like very interesting story. I'd love to read it

I didn't get too much detail on this one, so I'm just going to run with it? First time writing for Jolly, so let's give it a shot.

**After writing notes: WOW this one went in an entirely different direction than I expected...

It just happened. I hope someone enjoys it. LOL.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Soft smut, mentions of death

Sweater Weather

Why does no one ever have the balls to tell Noah he’s being a diva?

Listen, the man is my brother. We’re family. För alltid mitt blod. I would take a bullet for him, and I have no doubt he would do the same for me.

But, sometimes, he’s so fucking irritating.

How hard it must be to have such talent and be so attractive, everyone loves you, and you work hard to maintain an image. However, taking out the stress and pressures on the only guys who also know how being in this band feels?

Noah was arguing with one of the stage techs, telling him that the image they had prepared to be behind us doing our set was wrong. He’s right, they had prepared the image of the mannequins, when it was supposed to be the album cover, but that wasn’t this poor little man’s fault.

“God, it’s not a hard fucking thing to do!”

“I’m sorry, dude. I’m putting in the request to have it switched.” The man wasn’t exactly cowering, but he was intimidated for sure.

I stepped up behind Noah, letting a gentle hand fall on his shoulder. I could feel his muscles relax slightly under my fingers.

“C’mon man. It’ll be fine. We have an hour until our set. They’ll get it fixed.”

I felt him take a deep breath, and saw how he closed his eyes to center himself. This was something I taught him.

The tech scurried away, leaving us alone in our tent.

It was so fucking hot, which was interesting, given we were in Michigan. Upheaval festival was one of my favorites. It was a smaller event, which meant a more regular experience with the fans. Usually, it also meant better food and beer vendors.

“Hey, guess what I found?” Nick came bounding into the tent, a large mug in his hand.

“Beer, I assume?” Noah pointed his attitude at Nick, who rolled his eyes in return.

“They have a beer garden! Jolly, they’ve got a Swedish ale you might dig!”

I snorted. “Guarantee it isn’t actually Swedish.” Grabbing my hat from the couch, I placed it over my long hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail, and headed for the exit.

“I will go check it out though. Folio out there?”

Nick nodded. “He was spotted, so he’s chatting with some fans.”

I smirked. “Let’s hope he can get out before the set.”

Noah turned and looked at me. “Don’t be late getting back, please! We go on in under an hour.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, I headed for the mayhem of the festival.

As suspected, there was nothing Swedish about the beer, but it did have good flavor. I stood to the right of the beer garden, sipping my mug, and people watched.

It was always so fascinating to see the mix of people who came to these shows. European festivals were one thing but American festivals? You saw everything from multi-colored hair to breasts only barely covered by mesh tops or pasties. It was a sight to behold.

After a moment of zoning out, I looked down at my watch to see I still had twenty minutes before we had to head to the stage. Noah was likely bursting because I wasn’t back yet, and I smiled to myself at the thought. He could sweat for a few minutes, would do him good.

Deciding I should at least start making my way back there, my eyes scanned for the direction I needed to go, somehow getting turned around. Eyes searching over heads and bodies, I didn’t even see the person coming toward me, knocking my shoulder directly into them as I began walking forward.

My beer sloshed over the edge of the cup, pouring foam down the girl’s arm.

“Fuck! I am so sorry!” I turned, and my eyes locked onto the face in front of me.

Wisps of natural, dirty blonde hair floated in the slight breeze, framing a tan, small face. The rest of her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a bun, tightly secured. Her eyes were lightly lined with black, mascara clinging to her lashes. Pink, full lips covered by only a thin gloss were hanging open, startled by the cold liquid on her shoulder.

“Shit! I didn’t even see you, I’m so sorry!” She apologized, wiping her arm with the sweater tied around her waist. Her white tank top was now an amber color on one side.

I couldn’t speak. She was gorgeous.

“Jesus, I’m such a fucking klutz.” She groaned, hastily grabbing napkins off of the cart behind us and wiping at her arm, and then at my hand.

When her ice blue eyes looked up at me, I felt the air rush back into my lungs.

“No, no that was my fault. I’m very sorry.”

When the realization crossed her face, I saw it like a firework exploding behind her vision.

“You’re Jolly fucking Karlsson!”

This made me chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

I reached a hand out, which she took graciously, smiling at me with a wide, toothy grin.

“It’s such an honor. I’m a huge fan. I was actually rushing so I could get back to see your set!”

Her words snapped me back.

Fuck.

“Oh, good! I’ve got to get over there! But, uh,” My brain was working overtime. “maybe I can find you after? You can buy me another beer?”

I let any suave I had take over, which seemed to work decently, given she blinked multiple times.

“Sure, of course!”

“Jolly!” My head snapped over to see Matt barreling toward me. “Dude we go on in ten minutes!”

Looking back, I watched as her face fell slightly, my arm now being physically pulled in the opposite direction. Being led away, I hollered.

“I’ll meet you back here!”

I was only given a nod, and a wave in response.

-

The set was electric, Noah's earlier nerves rolling off of him comfortably as he put on a show. Nick was absolutely flawless on his bass, flipping his hair over and over. Folio, as usual, lost himself in the drum beats, freestyling here and there.

I, however, was way off my game. Something about my encounter with the mesmerizing blonde earlier kept me thoroughly distracted. Over and over, my eyes swam through the sea of people in the crowd, trying my hardest to find a blonde messy bun and steel blue eyes, but it was in vain. I couldn't see anything.

I thought about her again and again, unable to shake the feeling of wonder from my bones. For whatever reason, I needed to see this girl again. Her aura, her energy, it radiated beauty, rarity, like a gemstone.

Pärla. A magnificent treasure.

The thoughts racing in my brain made me lose my focus more than once. During Nowhere to Go, I missed several notes, my guitar making an awful screeching sound. I forgot to sing backup vocals during Limits entirely, earning me a glare from Noah, and a look of concern from Nick.

I had ignored it, and continued on, my eyes still searching. It was hopeless. I would find her after. I had to.

Once Dethrone concluded, and I ran off stage, setting my guitar down, I felt a hand pull my arm, flinging my backward.

"Dude, are you okay?" Nick looked straight at me. "You drunk?"

I furrowed my brow. "Of course not."

"Well, you don't really fuck up on stage, Jolly, so what the fuck?" Noah was standing directly behind Nick, eyes shooting me down with fury.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry. I was looking for someone."

This made them both leer backward a moment. "Who?" Noah asked.

"This girl. I met her at the beer garden."

They reacted equally differently. Nick let up a sly smirk, his eyebrows raising. Noah, however, narrowed his eyes.

"You almost blew the set for some broad?"

Rolling my eyes, I turned toward them. "I didn't blow the fucking set, Noah. Quit being so dramatic."

I could see the fire burning behind his irises, which I would definitely pay for later in the form of his attitude.

"Are you fucking kidding, dude?" Noah began scolding me, but Nick held up a hand.

"Chill. Jolly never fucks up, ever." He turned to Noah, giving him stern eyes. "And the set was fine."

Huffing, Noah stomped away, throwing a tantrum like a child.

I smiled at Nick, grateful. "You know how he gets at festivals."

Nodding, I began to walk away. "Got to go."

Waving him off, I weaved through all of the people behind the stage area, making my way back out to our tent, where Davis and Matt were already packing up equipment. I grabbed a clean shirt out of my backpack, and slipped it over my head. I pulled half of my hair up in a tight bun on top of my head, and slipped on my sunglasses.

Headed back out, I noticed the sun was nearly set, and the beer garden area was almost vacant, most people over by the stages. Sleep Token had just started, so the vendors were long abandoned by almost everyone.

I found the napkin cart, and stood, arms crossed, scanning around. After about ten minutes, I had to remove my sunglasses to be able to see clearly as night was falling. A chill ran up my spine as the temperature began to drop. No sign of her, but I didn't mind waiting.

Thirty minutes.

Forty-five.

One hour.

I stood, eyes glancing around, head bobbing to Sleep Token's heavy bass and Vessel's incredible vocals. However, my mind was elsewhere. Maybe she didn't want to miss their set? Maybe she forgot where to meet? I didn't know how to find her.

I didn't even know her name.

It was a mystery, and I couldn't get it out of my head. I was going to have to give up soon. The festival would be ending, and I would have to get back with the guys, head back to the hotel. The thought made my stomach sink. Why was I so entranced with the idea of this girl? All she did was spill beer on me. Why did I insist on finding her?

"Jolly?"

I spun, much faster than I should've, on my heel, and was met with cold, freezing blue eyes, staring up at me. Her gloss was worn off, and her eyeliner was smudging ever so slightly under her eyes. Her bun was long gone, blonde hair now free-flowing down across her shoulders.

"Pärla."

Her smile was confused. "Uh,"

"It means gem. I didn't know your name, so I decided to go with that."

The blush on her cheeks was a sweet addition to that gorgeous sun kissed skin.

"I like that." She rubbed her palms on the front of her jeans. I noticed her sweater was now around her shoulders, covering the beer stain on her tank top. "I'm sorry, I know we said we'd meet after your set. I had to get one of my friends back to our hotel."

Shaking my head, I waved her off. "No worries."

"Did you wait long?"

An hour wasn't a long time, I don't think.

"Nope."

With a finger pointed at the beer garden, she asked, "So, you want that beer?"

I perused this. I wasn't much for a drink right now, comfortable with just talking to her. "You going to have one?"

Shrugging, she looked over toward the crowd. "I don't think so. I've got to get back to the hotel with my friends soon. One of them is really drunk, and is a sick mess."

My face soured. "That doesn't sound fun."

Scrunching her face, she stuck her hands in the pocket of her sweater. "It isn't. I'm pretty annoyed about it, actually."

Nodding, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I had been ignoring it for a while.

Matt: Dude, if you're coming with us, we gotta go now.

I typed a quick response.

Me: Meet you back at the hotel.

We walked around the festival grounds for a while, just chatting about different things, somehow managing to distract her from the fact that she should go back to her hotel, and I, mine.

"You're from Florida?"

She nodded. "Daytona. I hate it."

"Why? Isn't it sunny and beautiful all year-round?" I chuckled.

She joined me. "Sure, if you like a lot of drugs and alligators everywhere."

We found some benches, having a seat. I pulled a pack of smokes from my pocket, lighting one.

She stared at me, smirking. I lifted the pack toward her. "Want one?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay. Thanks, though."

Blowing out the smoke, I turned my attention back to her face.

"So why come to Michigan for a festival?"

Her eyes were lost on the crowd, amused. "Why not?" She leaned back on her seat. "I love the adventure of traveling. Seeing different cities. If I get to enjoy good music while I'm at it, why not?"

"You get to meet a lot of cool people doing it, huh?"

Looking over to me, I saw her lips turn up slightly. "Yeah, I do."

A cool silence fell over us for a moment while I finished my cigarette.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her head turn toward me. "It's closing."

We noticed the bodies moving past us toward the exit. I nodded. "We should get going soon."

I swore I saw a flash of disappointment cross her features, but only for a second before a look of excitement crept across her face.

"Hey, you want to go somewhere?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

Smirking, she stood, pulling at my arm. "I know a place, c'mon."

With no time to protest, she pulled me, and I had to nearly jog to keep up. I watched her hair, looking nearly silver against the bright lights at the parking area, fly behind her as she ran toward the Uber line.

We waited, and I slipped my sunglasses back on, and tried not to be obvious.

Once our turn came, she leaned forward to give the driver the address, quiet enough so I wouldn't hear. The driver raised a brow.

"I'm pretty sure it's closed for the night."

She waved at him. "Just go. It'll be fine."

With a nod, he began driving. I stared at her. "Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

Her teeth flashed. "You'll have to wait and find out." And she turned to look out at the darkness beyond her window.

Something inside me wasn't worried.

We walked along the boardwalk, out onto the sand. We could hear the soft waves crashing, but it was difficult to see beyond she shoreline.

"Welcome to Lake Michigan!"

The stars, bright and vast, seemed to bounce off of the stillness of the water. It was breathtaking. She bound ahead of me, slipping her shoes off and holding them. Her eyes were fixed on the water, before she dropped down in the sand, looking up at the sky.

I followed suit, taking a heavy seat next to her. It was so quiet, so calm. We weren't supposed to be here at midnight, but something in the chilled air felt so serene.

"What did you call me before?" Her voice was even, still looking at the sky.

"Hm?" I had to shake out of my thoughts.

"At the festival. You called me a name. In another language."

I smiled. "Pärla." She looked back at me. "It means gem."

A warm grin spread across her lips. "I like that." She echoed her earlier sentiment.

It occurred to me at that point, that she still had not told me her first name.

"What else do I call you?"

Her eyes narrowed, thinking. What was there to think about?

"I think that'll do."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Her gaze turned back up to the sky. "Pärla. That's good."

"You're not going to tell me your name?" Confusion laced my voice.

Hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes transfixed on the stars, she bit her lip. "Not yet."

It was strange, but what could I do?

Silence fell over us again, but she eventually spoke up.

"Do you ever miss Sweden?"

Clearing my throat, I mimicked her body language, pulling my knees up.

"Sometimes. It's my home."

Her lips were pulled in a tight line, and I saw what looked to be a tear brimming at her eyes. "I never miss mine. I'm never going back."

"Why not?"

Turning to look at me, a slow tear rolled down her cheek, but she held a sad smile. "I'm happy right where I am."

Trying to process what she said, I struggled, because all I could feel was the urge to grab the tear with my finger, and wipe it from her face. I kept my hands to myself, however.

"So," I tried to lighten the conversation. "how long have you been a fan?"

This made a genuine grin crack across her face. "About a year. I heard you guys for the first time on TikTok. When I looked into the music, I was hooked."

I nodded, listening to the smooth sounds of the waves. "Yeah, that's how a lot of people found us."

"It's good music. I really enjoyed the new album."

"Yeah, it was fun to make."

She looked directly at me. "Do you like being in a band? What's it like?"

That made me huff out a laugh. "It's something else, that's for sure. Chaotic, at times. Rewarding, most others."

Amused, she crossed her legs under her and turned her body to face me. "What are the other guys like?" I raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. "I'm not trying to fangirl, just curious."

Shaking my head, I turned to face her as well. "Nick is awesome. Mediator when things get tense. He tends to keep a cool head easier than the rest of us." I sighed. "Folio is...young. He's so lighthearted, and full of life. I envy that sometimes." She smiled at that.

"And Noah is..." I trailed off, choosing my words carefully. "Brilliant, but can be a lot sometimes."

"Like how?"

"Like," I intertwined my fingers. "he gets anxious. He's a perfectionist, so there's never room for error. It can be a pain in the ass, but we owe a lot of our success to it."

She nodded. "He's talented."

"Very. So, we put up with it, mostly."

Peering up at me from under her lashes, she spoke low. "And what about you, Jolly? What are you like?"

This gave me pause. How do I answer that?

"I'm..." I really had to think about that answer. "I don't know, really. I'm just, me? The guys call me the 'Dad' of the group, but I'm really only a few years older than Nick."

A hand slid over my knee, and I glanced down at it. "Well, I don't know you very well. Only from what time we've spent the last few hours, but I think you're very interesting."

Resting my chin on a fist, I considered her words. "Do you?"

"Yeah, I do. I think you're very sweet. And complex."

"Complex?"

She let out a giggle, which broke the quiet air with a sweet sound.

"Well, you got in an Uber with a complete stranger, without knowing where you're going, and now you're sitting on a beach in the middle of the night."

This made me smirk. "Point taken."

"That's shows adventure. I like it."

I focused on the ring piercing her left nostril, and the small batch of freckles on her nose. Her hair was hanging long, the moonlight illuminating it.

I felt the pull, the same one that brings the planets together. The pull that gravity is made of. Her eyes flashed back and forth between mine, and her lips parted so slightly. Instinctively, I leaned close to her until I could feel her breath against my face. It was cool, almost cold.

When the soft skin of her lips touched mine, she took a breath in, gasping.

My hand lifted to press against her cheek, pulling her closer, and pressing our lips together.

Like a lightning bolt struck the sand between us, we were lit up with energy. Her body lunged toward me, knees climbing up into my lap as she kissed me, tongue pressing into my mouth. My hands wrapped around to her back, pulling her into me, as she writhed against me.

Her hips pressed down, jeans grinding against mine, the lack of friction making it nearly unbearable. My lips kissed down to her neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin. Her hair had fallen over her face, eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers were grazing down my chest, pulling at the fabric of my t-shirt, and eventually landing to the button of my jeans.

My own hands located the access point of her pants, popping them open. Disconnecting for a moment, she pulled back to shimmy out of her jeans, leaving her in a pair of black panties, kneeling in the sand in front of me.

Staring directly into my eyes, she reached to my jeans and opened them effortlessly, unzipping them, my aching cock bulging against the fabric of my boxers. Her hand slipped to the waistband, freeing my erection. I stared at her with intent. Something in her eyes was dark, something I couldn't place.

"Do you want to?" Her voice was so small. So desperate.

I couldn't respond, so I only reached for her, pulling her face back to me. I laid her down on her back, leaning over her and letting my mouth mold over hers, one hand slipping down her stomach, to her core.

My fingers easily grazed past the elastic of the underwear, running through the soft patch of curls just underneath, until I felt the moisture of her lips between my fingers.

She moaned into my mouth as I slipped my middle finger inside of her, curling it to press against that soft, sweet spot that had her breathing erratic.

"Fuck." She breathed against my mouth. My hand was pumping her hard, a delicious wet sound nearly drowned out by the waves behind us.

"I don't have a condom on me, Pärla."

Her eyes snapped open, and she smiled. "I'm okay, if you are."

Morals? Rational thought? Responsibility? What is that?

I was okay. More than okay. This could be bad. Dangerous, even. Something in my gut - no - my soul told me that this needed to happen, and it needed to happen now.

Steady fingers pulled her panties down, slipping them off, before I hovered over her, lining the head up with her entrance.

As slow and precise as possible, I pressed in, my eyes falling closed with the vibrant sensation that engulfed me. She let out a long, deep groan with me.

"Oh God, Jolly."

I let my lips fall back down to the flesh on her neck, thrusting in and out comfortably, savoring the feel of her on my skin.

We went on like this for longer than I would've expected. Our voices echoed off of the water, the darkness swallowing us as our bodies synchronized. Her pussy tightened around me each time I pulled out, begging for more.

Eventually, I sped up the snapping of my hips, leaning up to get a better angle, pulling her knee up to her chest.

Her hands dug into the sand around us, head careened backward.

"Oh Jolly, fuck, so fucking good." She was biting down on her lip so hard, it was sure to bleed.

I was so close. I needed her release. "Come for me, Pärla." My breathing began stuttering. "Let go, for me."

A long, visceral moan left her lips, and I felt her walls spasm around me as I began emptying into her, my orgasm smacking me hard in the chest.

I pumped us through it, one hand holding her face, watching the waves of pleasure rush over it.

Once we slowed to a stop, I collapsed next to her, a lazy smile on my face.

"That was..." I started, too tired to finish my sentence.

"Unreal." Her words were stark. Matter of fact. Her eyes were looking back up at the stars.

I followed suit, zipping my jeans back up.

"I'm glad I met you today, Jolly."

I let my eyes fall on her again, and smiled. "Me too, Pärla."

My eyes opened to a flashlight shining directly on them.

"Hey, asshole!" I squinted, my hands coming up to shield my vision from the abrasive light. "You can't fucking sleep here. Go find a fucking shelter!"

"What?" I sat up, looking up at the person in front of me. A police officer.

"You've got to get out of here, man. I don't want to take you in."

I held my hands up in defense, standing to my feet. My eyes glanced around, realizing I was very much alone.

"Where's the girl I was with?"

The cop raised an eyebrow. "No one but you here, bud. Let's go."

His hand grabbed my arm, leading me off the beach. I turned back toward the water, hollering out into the darkness.

"Pärla?!"

No response. Just silence.

-

A week had gone by, and I was back home.

I had done everything I could think of to find her, but still came up with nothing. No name. No number. Just a physical description and vague location. Have you any idea how many blonde-haired, blue-eyed, tan-skinned girls are in Daytona, FL? It was comical.

After about four days, I had pretty much given up. Part of me felt hurt. Why had she left? Was she okay? She knew me, why hadn't she reached out?

Was she just in it for the sex? Or to say she screwed a member of the band? Did she regret it?

Something felt wrong. Her presence, her energy. It felt so genuine. I struggled to believe she really just ran off, leaving me to fall asleep alone on that beach.

I had Ubered back to the hotel, heading straight to Noah's room to tell him what happened. It was 4AM by the time I made it back, and he looked at me like I was insane.

Still, he showed his human side for a moment, and empathized with me, offering to help try and find her.

Back in Los Angeles, I was sitting in the studio, trying to perfect a guitar rift, when Noah bounded in with Folio. We had everyone together for the next two weeks before we left for the next festival.

"I don't get why people are so scummy."

I raised an eyebrow at Folio's words. "What's that?"

He turned to look at me, falling into a chair. "This article, man. About Upheaval?"

I stopped my strumming, looking up to give him my full attention.

I took note that Noah was scrolling on his phone fervently.

"What about it?"

Noah looked up at me, pursing his lips. "I guess someone got really hurt?"

"Not hurt. Someone fucking died, dude."

This made me furrow my brows. "What?"

"Yeah. Some girl got trampled in the fucking crowd."

Noah rolled his eyes. "The article I read said she had a seizure, and fell into the crowd. They didn't get her out in time."

"During which set?"

"Sleep Token." Noah responded.

"Wow, really? I saw damn near the entire thing. I didn't see anything happen."

"Well, that's the point, man. No one did, until the end. By that time, she had choked or something." Noah handed his phone to me, and I noticed it was scrolled to the bottom of the article.

"It's bullshit they waited so long to say something." Folio chimed in.

Noah shrugged. "Trying to protect the festival's reputation, I guess. Too bad. She was fucking cute, too."

My thumb scrolled to the top of the article, taking a moment as it was long.

When the picture at the top came into view, my hand that held my rig went slack, dropping the instrument on the floor.

It didn't make sense. It was a mistake of some kind.

25 Year Old Female Dies At Music Festival - Safety Protocols Being Investigated

The photograph that stared back at me, mocking my dropped jaw and widened eyes.

"Jolly, you good, dude?" Folio asked as he reached down to grab my guitar, now on the floor.

I couldn't respond. My blood had coagulated in my veins. My skin hardened to stone as my eyes stared at the picture, mind blanking.

The girl in the picture stared into my very soul.

Dirty blonde hair. Ice blue eyes. Small patch of freckles. Plush pink lips.

Pärla.

[schrijverr]

A Behind the Scenes of: Corroded Coffin

Jonathan gives an insight into the life of Corroded Coffin in the early days during their rise to fame.

On AO3.

Ships: Steddie

Warnings: period typical homophobic attitudes mentioned (minor)

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, I’m Jonathan Byers, the main photographer and editor of A Collection of Queer Photography. Today I’m giving you a behind the scene look of some of the Corroded Coffin photos that are in the book,” Jonathan starts out the video, sounding a little awkward, but trying not to show.

“Corroded Coffin has kind of blown up again, so a lot of people tagged me on twitter to talk more about some of the photos I took of them, which has been a little overwhelming,” Jonathan tells the camera, his voice indeed a little shrill. “So, this video is to meet that demand.”

He grabs the book, which has little tabs sticking out, so he can find the right pages easier and flips it open on the first one.

On screen appears a photo of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Chris. They all have their arms slung over each other, Gareth giving Eddie bunny ears. Their clothes are classic 80s punk, heavily inspired by the queer scene as both Eddie and Gareth had influenced the other two.

“This is Corroded Coffin back in School,” Jonathan says. “I took this in ‘86. It’s not a very fancy or hard to take photo, just a group photo. It’s an old one, so I was also at the start of my photography career. I had not training yet, so it isn’t very dynamic photo.”

“However,” he goes on. “We put it in here, because went with the theme and because shows their youth and playfulness. It’s very much them before they took off.”

“I don’t want to imply that fame changed them or anything. They’re a few of the most down to earth people I know, but I’ve been taking Corroded Coffin photos for a long time. Most of them have been in circulation since the 90s, save those in here and few that didn’t make the cut,” Jonathan says. “But the longer you spend in front of a camera, the more you get used to it. So of course the way they come across has changed.”

“Here for example,” he points to the bunny ears. “It’s very silly and it’s teen behavior. They would still do that in the 90s, but they would have thought about it. If it fit the vibe of the photo or if they intentionally didn’t want to take a moment seriously.”

“They’re pose is also very basic,” Jonathan says. “I’ve had a lot of fun directing shoots with them for album covers etcetera. But it’s clear here they haven’t gotten used to posing as a group and I’m not used to shooting groups yet either.”

He flips the page to another book mark as the photo changes to Corroded Coffin performing at the Hideout. All the band members dressed extravagantly. Eddie has eyeliner tears streaming down his face alongside the sweat. He is mid-head bang, sharing a microphone with Jeff. Gareth has his arms raised high in the background, about to slam down on the drums. Chris is pouring water from a bottle over his face.

“This is Corroded Coffin Live at the Hideout back in ‘88,” Jonathan says. “If you’re a fan, you probably have heard them mention the place, since that is where they first performed.”

“I really like the photo, because it truly shows that they’re too small for the stage, the presence they had and the potential,” Jonathan says. “It’s a little rough around the edges, but the show is already there.”

“There is no audience, but they’re still playing as if they’re in a stadium,” Jonathan goes on. “I still had to get used to shooting the band and over time I learned it’s sometimes better to focus on one member instead of trying to wait for that perfect moment wherein they all are going to look good, because that just doesn’t happen.”

“Like here,” he turns to the photograph. “You can barely see Eddie’s face with how his hair is in front of his face and the splash of water isn’t the best either. This photo made the cut, since it’s the best I took that evening, which says a lot.”

Jonathan flips the page again and nods: “Ah, yes, if you compare it to this one, you can see the evolution. It’s Corroded Coffin’s First Show in Boston, which I took a year later in ‘89.”

The band is playing in a dingy little club in Boston. However, they have an audience, silhouettes of heads and arms in the foreground as they play. Eddie is shirtless, wearing only leather pants, his boots and suspenders. He isn’t playing the guitar, instead clapping his hands above his head with a manic grin, his armpit hair on display. Gareth and Jeff are still playing, but Chris is helping hype up the audience.

“This is a better picture, since it’s a moment they interact with the audience, thus are aware that they’re being seen,” Jonathan explains. “So, it’s a much better moment to photograph, though it’s never going to be perfect.”

“You can also see how they’ve changed here,” Jonathan says. “They’ve always been too big for their stage, but the difference in their face between having a crowd here and the empty Hideout is huge.”

“One of the things I enjoy most is shooting the same subject over time, because you can really capture how much they change and what things are important to them at the time,” Jonathan says with a smile.

Jonathan flips to the next page with a little tab, then checks what the next one after that is, before flipping to the after that, which is Eddie Munson and his Sweetheart. In the photo Eddie is on his knees, leaning back and playing the guitar. He is in a cropped, hand-painted Corroded Coffin shirt, sweat soaking it. He is playing his heart out, seemingly lost in the music. His right eye is still bruised to all hell.

“This is Eddie Munson and his Sweetheart and when I learned to take solo photos of them instead of trying to get them all in there,” Jonathan smiles. “I took this in 1990, right before they were taking off.”

“What I really like about this photo is how private it is,” Jonathan says. “He is on that stage in front of a lot of people, but he’s just alone with the music for a second. You can see it in the expression on his face and how he holds the guitar.”

“I had to fight my way through to get the angle for this photo, nearly broke my camera, but it was so worth it. Because you’re kind of looking up to him. He might be kneeling, but he is still looming over you, his presence bigger than you. That really makes this photo special and so very Eddie-like,” Jonathan explains.

Then he flips to the next marked page and Personal Makeup Artist appears on screen. It’s of Steve and Eddie in the bathroom. Eddie is sitting on the counter with his eyes closed, he is gripping the side of the counter tightly. Between his legs is Steve, holding eyeliner in his one hand, Eddie’s chin with the other as he delicately applies it. He is going for dramatic this night.

“This is before their first big-big gig back in ‘91,” Jonathan says. “Eddie was so nervous, all of them were, but not trying to show it. He spend the whole time telling Steve how bad it would all go. What I really like is the soft quiet moment that you can see here.”

“Eddie will never admit it, but he’s scared of eyeliner. He can’t do it himself,” Jonathan reveals. “Later makeup artists did it for him, but before they made it big, Steve was always the one to do it for him. It was their little ritual before shows.”

He moves on to the other photo on the page. Taken behind the scenes of Corroded Coffin’s first big gig. They’re standing to the sides, peaking at the audience, but not yet on stage. Gareth is anxiously spinning his drumstick and biting his lip. Next to him, squatted on the ground, is Chris, breathing into a bag. In the foreground is Eddie, who is looking into the camera with wide, scared eyes. Behind him is Jeff grinning widely

“We wanted to contrast that quiet moment with what they were about to do,” Jonathan says. “This photo is named More than 10,000 People and it was their genuine reaction to having to go on stage in front of so many people. It’s quite funny when you realize how much bigger their crowds got over time, but that makes it such a nice photo.”

“They had to get used to all that fame, the amount of eyes on them. Jeff has always been the least anxious about it out of all of them, which you can see here,” Jonathan points to Jeff. “I remember this moment quite well. Corroded Coffin nearly didn’t make it, because Chris walked out and Eddie was ready to follow him. But they did just fine for themselves and killed it.”

Jonathan flips to the next page and Eddie Munson on Stage, 1991 appears on screen. It is of Eddie on stage at their first big gig. His hair is thrown back as he sings, thrusting his hips on which the guitar rests forward. He’s wearing big boots and tight pants. He is shirtless save for a leather harness, he looks alive and sweaty, handkerchief hanging out of his pocket. The lights reflect on his slick skin, the scars standing out between the tattoos.

“Again, me knowing to photograph only one member at the time,” Jonathan laughs. “No, but this one is different than Eddie Munson and his Sweetheart that I showed you earlier. This is called Eddie Munson on Stage, 1991. Which is a pretty utilitarian title, but that is what it is. This is Eddie on stage; funny, engaged and in performer mode. It’s not him alone with his guitar despite the crowd, this time he knows he’s being seen. So it’s a different photo.”

“It’s also very much a performance photo. He is on stage, looking very much like a rockstar and we wanted to contrast that with his normal, human side,” Jonathan goes on. “So, of course we had to put Post Gig Dinner right next to it.”

The photo appears. In it, the entirety of Corroded Coffin is stuffed into a booth along with Robin and Steve. Everyone is grinning. The members of the band are all sweaty and stuffing their face with fries, while trying to laugh for the camera. Robin is throwing up devil horns along with Jeff, Chris has two fries as fangs, while Gareth is mid-chew. Eddie has Steve in his lap, who stands out like a sore thumb between the alternatively dressed people around him in his jeans and polo. Though Eddie is wearing a jacket over his harness that can’t be anyone’s except Steve’s.

“It’s a very silly photo, which is really like,” Jonathan says. “They always used to eat at this diner after gigs, before they got too recognizable to do so.”

“What I especially like about this photo, is how Robin and Steve fit into it,” Jonathan tells the camera. “They’re in some aspects such an opposites attract friendship and this photo really shows that.”

“Robin has always been a little more alternative and a dyke to the heart, while Steve has always been a little more mainstream,” Jonathan explains. “Neither of these are better than the others, but seated next to a metal band, one is going to stand out more. Robin could easily be a part of the band.”

“But I think that makes Steve’s position all the more interesting,” Jonathan goes on. “Because Robin is part of the group, she blends in. Steve stands out. But out here in the world, he’s someone you’d walk by without a glance while all the others would usually turn heads. By virtue of the crowd, the script gets flipped.”

“And that makes the detail of his jacket all the more fun,” Jonathan says, “because Eddie is wearing it. He is connecting himself to Eddie, pulling him a little into his world as Eddie pulls him into his by holding him. They’re the point the lines blur in this photo and that tells a lovely story about how they connect.”

With that he flips to the next tab and states: “Page 96 and 97 are the pages with A Collection Of Early Corroded Coffin Photos. I’m going to pick a few out of here that I find interesting or that I have something to say about.”

“Of course the first one is kind of funny and says a lot about what back stage looks like,” Jonathan says as it appears on screen.

It is of Eddie and Steve making out on top of one of the equipment boxes backstage, in the foreground is Jeff looking into the camera with an exhausted look.

“Steve and Eddie are, for a lack of better words, very clingy and a little gross about it,” Jonathan admits. “And back here they still saw each other daily, it got worse when they were apart more often. I have one photo where they’re on the brink of fucking right back stage, but that didn’t make the cut.”

“I think what really sells this photo is Jeff,” Jonathan decides. “He looks tired, which tells people that this happens often. I pity them during the time they shared a tour bus whenever Steve came to visit them on tour.”

The next image comes on screen. It’s of Jeff and Chris tuning their guitars on stage, the huge venue they’re in is still empty and it’s just the two of them and the instruments on stage.

“Here, this one of Chris and Jeff is very evocative, because they look very small on their big stage. I think it really shows the small human artist behind every rock legend,” Jonathan says. “Sometimes you have to work with empty space to say what you want and this is an example of it.”

“Oehh, this one is great,” Jonathan exclaims as the image changes to Robin and Steve are holding hands, their bodies silhouetted from the back by the light coming from the stage. From in between them you can see Eddie hopping on one leg as he plays the guitar.

“I love this photo, because it shows their dynamic through these years,” Jonathan says. “Robin has been Steve’s support system whenever Eddie was away, while Steve kept Eddie going. Here the two of them are supporting Eddie, but Robin is holding Steve’s hand, supporting him too.”

“A lot of people don’t realize how hard it is to date a rockstar, especially before there was social media and face time,” Jonathan explains. “Steve will never fully admit how hard those years were. Eddie too. They’re strong about it, but they wouldn’t have made it through without people like Robin there. This photo really shows that.”

“Next one,” Jonathan takes a look then nods. “This one here is a better example of a full band photo, because sometimes you just have to accept that not all will be the focus, because that’s just not how it works.”

The photograph is of the entire band. Chris and Jeff are going wild, leaning over the first row with people going wild. Eddie is standing by Gareth, head banging as both of them play.

It gets replaced by a set of photographs as Jonathan moves on. The first is of Eddie holding a bra that has been thrown at him, from the look in his eyes, he has no idea what to do with it. The second one is taken right after of Eddie still holding the bra, but grinning wolf-ishly into the audience. After seeing so many photographs of him genuinely grinning it is clear he quickly plastered it on.

“This set, I love this set,” Jonathan comments, looking up in the camera again. He’s been mostly looking down to the book, seeming more comfortable like that.

“It’s that slight crack in the performer that is Eddie Munson that is captured so beautifully,” he smiles almost lovingly at the photos. “Eddie has always been such a presence, even before he was famous or I even knew him. He’d be out on cafeteria tables monologuing in front of the entire school.”

“He has always wanted to be a star and had dreams about it and this is the moment he realizes what the reality of it will look like. And he goes through it like a champ, because he is meant for this and he worked too hard to get there not to,” Jonathan says. “It’s a funny series, but it has something tragic that really speaks to me.”

The series gets replaces with an image that is taken behind the venue of the band smoking. You can’t make out their faces all the best, however, you can see the embers of their cigarettes glow and what those reveal.

“This is a calmer photo that kind of shows the showbiz life outside the gigs,” Jonathan moves on. “I like the calm moment that offsets the more crazy ones on here. I also quite like the metaphor of the light only showing part of them, the rest being left in the dark. That might seem like reaching, but that’s the beauty of photography, you’re allowed to be a little pretentious about it.”

He laughs a little self-depreciating, before flipping to the next tab.

The image that comes on screen is of Corroded Coffin in the Munson apartment, they’re all cheering, screaming, going nuts. Gareth is jumping on the couch, Robin next to him as Jeff fist pumps next to them. Chris is tugging Argyle into a bone crushing hug. Nancy is still seated, but smiling with her teeth. In the foreground is Eddie screaming as if he’s about to run or break something, behind him is Steve diving for the phone Eddie has just dropped.

Jonathan snorts, before he introduces: “This is Signed Their First Album and Tour that I took in ‘91. It’s- it is quite a dynamic moment. Chaotic if you want to be more accurate.”

“I remember this moment so well, we all came around to wait on the call and Eddie just heard the news and started to cheer without any regard for the person on the other line,” Jonathan shakes his head with a fond smile. “I think Steve was the one to accept it for them. He’s my favorite part of this photo.”

“Taking these almost baroque style photos of something happening is a mix between skill, luck and just snapping a thousand photos and hoping one will turn out okay,” Jonathan says. “I’ve had to tear up so many of these types of photos. It’s a hazard of the job. Don’t be afraid to take a shitty photo, because the next one might be great.”

With that he flips to the next page, before looking up to someone behind the camera with a questioning gaze.

There is a cut, then Jonathan is saying: “There are quite a lot of them still to go and this one is already longer than other ones, so I can’t talk about all of them. Now I’ve kind of gone through the early days, but I can do the others ones too if anyone’s interested.”

He signs off: “So, yeah, that is a behind the scene of early Corroded Coffin photos. Hopefully that was interesting. Bye.”

~~

A/N:

In case you’re wondering that is a question to y’all if there is interest for more bts of Corrded Coffin xp

[thesinglesjukebox]

JO1 - "LOVE SEEKER"

That's pronounced "jay-oh-one," not "joy" as today's editor believed until just a minute ago...

[5.30]

Taylor Alatorre: The question of whether a Japanese band can make K-pop music brings to mind tedious online arguments about whether things like Code Lyoko and RWBY can properly be considered anime. Maybe it's just my paternalistic Yankee mindset that assigns any sort of importance to this question -- let a hundred NCTs bloom if that's what today’s Japanese audiences really want from their idols. It should be possible to make a corporate workaround to cultural import restrictions sound sexier or at least less constipated than this, though. [4]

Isabel Cole: Infectiously effusive, with some great rhythmic touches slinking, clicking, and banging away throughout, keeping things feeling busy but never crowded, like a party with exactly the right amount of guests. The vocals commit so energetically that the bits that could feel corny just feel fun, a big silly game we're all invited to join. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: It feels inert. I've played it three times and am listening to it now, one of the boys is sanging his ass off, and it feels like a fan circling behind me. [4]

Jonathan Bradley: What if "Can't Stop the Feeling" had a "Can't Stop the Feeling"? [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: It’s not these guys’ fault, really -- boy bands have been putting out lite funk since the dawn of funk. But at this point this style sounds less like music and more like cosmic background radiation, a wallpaper of sound that I associate more with podcast ad bumpers and other forms of strictly functional music than anything worthy of review. [3]

TA Inskeep: A smart, absurdly catchy three minutes that mashes at least four songs together with live-sounding drums, crossing both pure pop and pop-rock, and ends up sounding like a sibling to peak-era One Direction.  [7]

Alfred Soto: The rhythm guitars and percussive instruments signify "funk," but "Love Seeker" is as funky as Mike Pence. Play "Love Seeker" between a couple of, say, Harry Styles' fast ones from his last album and it makes sense. Brief, bright, banal -- solid pop. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: As much as I try to fight it, I'm still a sucker for a clickbait-y headline, and "Why Do Animals Keep Evolving into Crabs?" really scratched that itch for a science-illiterate lit major. (The answer is something called "carcinization.") As far as the more pressing question, "Why Do Different Genres Keep Evolving Into 'Uptown Funk'?", I'm not sure if science has cracked that one yet. [5]

Katherine St. Asaph: I can't tell whether this is pastiching the same funk and new jack swing Bruno Mars did, or skipping a step and just pastiching Bruno Mars instead. The charms are similar. [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I really want to give this a higher score because the delivery is so suave, but I can’t when the first thing I intuit from the beat is buying cars for my local Toyota-thon.  [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[runningfrom2am]

kinda famous - d.s.

summary: after mason's debut album charts in the top 100, she somehow got invited to the obx3 premiere. she went to make connections- but maybe not the exact kind she ends up leaving with.

this is a repost of the same fic from my otosimt series, just making some small changes :)

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: no warnings! just a meet-cute :), drew x musician!oc

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

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Not a day went by this past year where Mason didn't consider herself incredibly lucky. Her debut album saw some medial success, landing her in the Spotify top one hundred with the help of a TikTok trend to some of the lyrics from her first single. She could hardly believe it was real, sometimes. What always helped, however, was having connections.

Her best friend, Este, was a makeup artist to the stars. She worked on movies like Avatar and even a few Marvel films, but most notably and most recently, she had been working with Madelyn Cline. They had taken a liking to each other, having been in touch about every event, shoot, and movie she had been working on in hopes of having her new friend style her look for the occasion. Luckily for Mason, Este was her number one fan - and hardly ever did she have a client who wasn't forced to sit through her album while she was blending out the makeup on their faces or curling their hair.

Madelyn, apparently, had loved it. In the words of her best friend, "She was just gushing over it! She requests your music every time she's in my chair. I swear." So, that is how Mason ended up at the OBX3 premiere, shaking hands with one of the most beautiful actresses of her generation while she complimented both her dress and her music.

"I am seriously such a big fan. Este put me on and I am literally obsessed," Madelyn smiled, dropping Mason's hand.

"Oh my god, you're such a sweetheart- stop." Mason laughed, waving her off.

She smiled and leaned in, resting her hand on Mason's shoulder as she whispered in her ear. "Between us, I can't confirm anything just yet, but I'm working on getting you a soundtrack offer for season four."

Mason gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth to hide her shock. "No, you're literally joking!"

The blonde smiled and shook her head, giggling and clapping her hands together excitedly. "We all listen to you on set- it's growing on the producers, I think."

"Oh my god- Obviously I am so down! Allegedly, of course," Mason smiled, winking at her.

"Yes, of course, allegedly," she laughed, matching Mason's wink. "I have to run, but we'll jump in for some photos together on the carpet, yeah?" Madelyn grinned, giving Mason a quick hug and brushing past her in the direction of the curtain where everyone lines up for photos.

Feeling absolutely giddy, Mason was quick to lift her dress and shuffle over to the makeup room, where Este was still working with some other clients doing some touch-ups. "Oh my god!" Mason smiled as she approached her chair, where Este was just wiping up. She cringed internally at the sound of her music playing over her desk speaker, hearing the way she swore that the man she wrote this song about was the love of her life, and she'd be a fool to let him go. It wasn't long after the release that she ended up having to, discovering he was cheating on her with a girl from their hometown.

"Mason! Hey girl! Did you get to talk to Mads?" Este asked, looking back at her over her shoulder.

"Yes! And I have some serious tea to tell you later. Well, not serious, but good! It's definitely tea," Mason explained vaguely, knowing she'll understand.

"Yay! Okay, we'll debrief after," Este nodded. "Did you talk to anyone else?"

Mason instantly shook her head as Este turned to face her. "God, no, I'm petrified." She didn't answer, holding her finger up in Mason's face and digging through her kit, and pulling out a brush.

"Look up," she said, pointing to the ceiling, and Mason obliged as she touched up the shadow under her eyes and brushed away some flaked mascara while she talked. "You need to. You've got to make some more connections- I can't carry you forever." She teased, placing the brush back in her belt when she was done. "They're a lovely cast, trust me."

Mason nodded a little, taking a deep breath. "I just like... don't know what to do. Do I just walk around and talk to people?"

"That's the beauty of it! You're already doing it. Just show that stunning face of yours to the cameras with this beautiful dress, smile, make small talk, and opportunity will fall into your lap. I know you- everyone will love you regardless." She mused, quickly adjusting the waistline of Mason's dress. "And report back to me, of course."

"You're not gonna come? I want some pictures with you. The world needs to see the artist behind this face," Mason grinned, gesturing to her face of makeup and wiggling her eyebrows.

"Yes, of course," Este giggled, smacking Mason's shoulder playfully. "I'll change and come find you."

Mason smiled and clapped her hands together, bouncing in her heels. "Let's go together! I think I have to because I'm basically your plus one."

"No, absolutely not," Este dismissed her quickly, closing up part of her kit and doing some quick organization. "You, my dearest Mason, need to prove your independence in the industry. Just because you put out your Lover Era album doesn't mean you can't stand proudly on your own after the breakup. Your energy will draw all the cute boys to you. I just know it." She joked at the end, but Mason knew she was serious about her sentiment.

Mason's breakup wasn't fresh anymore- she was right. It didn't hurt and keep her up all night over the heartache that she had assumed would never get better. She was thriving now, she felt like herself again. "That's not why I'm here and you know that," Mason giggled.

"Of course not... It just would be a nice bonus," Este shrugged. "Now shoo! You're distracting me. I'll see you in a few." She pushed Mason away, winking at her before returning to her cleanup duties.

Mason took a few breaths as she turned around, making a conscious effort to smile as she walked over to the curtain where the crew was organizing people and sending them out onto the carpet.

Luckily, she spotted the bar not far away and quickly made her way over to grab a quick glass of wine before she had to step out. She tried to sip on it casually, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but craving the buzz and freedom that comes with being a little tipsy around strangers.

"You're Mason Bell, right?" Someone approached her, and she quickly turned to the source of the voice.

"Yes, that's me," Mason smiled, securing her glass in one hand before holding out her hand to shake. The woman took it, smiling politely as she shook it.

"Lovely. We're ready for you whenever, just go check in with that lovely gentleman by the curtain and you're free to walk when you're ready," the woman smiled, quickly taking off to go deal with more crew business.

Mason leaned back against the bar, nursing her drink still and glancing in the direction of the dressing rooms and hoping Este would walk out in time to join her. She gave it another minute as she finished her drink, feeling adequately warmed by the alcohol in her system before approaching the curtain.

"Hey! Nice to meet you, I'm Mason Bell," she greeted the man with the clipboard and he nodded, giving her a thumbs up and holding the curtain back for her to step out. She took deep breaths and focused on smiling (and not tripping) as she took the few extra paces behind a wall before she'd be in view of the many cameras she could already see flashing at the cast and their friends standing already in their full view. She heard lots of voices as she walked up, but they somehow got a million times louder as she stepped into the lights.

This wasn't her first red carpet, but it was her first premiere. Besides the backdrop curtain, they had a variety of props from the show, including the Twinkie itself, making her giddy with excitement. She made a mental note to herself to not leave without a picture of her behind the wheel for her Instagram.

"Mason! Look over here!" She heard a dozen voices calling her name and she decided her best move was to smile and wave, stopping and placing one hand on her hip and just glancing across the whole crowd of cameramen and interviewers behind the small fence. She gave it a few moments to capture hopefully enough photos for their portfolios before an interviewer pulled her over to chat with them.

"Mason! So nice to meet you. You look absolutely stunning!" They grinned, shaking her hand and holding the mic up to her lips.

"Hello! And thank you so much! It's lovely to meet you too. What's your name?" Mason asked, smiling at them and giving a quick wave to the cameras still flashing in her face as they recorded her with one closer up.

"I'm Noah. I'm with Netflix just documenting everyone here tonight," He grinned. "So, we were all excited to hear you would be coming tonight! Are you a fan of the show?"

"Oh my god, I'm a huge fan," Mason gushed, looking around at the other people on the carpet. "I was just so lucky to be invited, I was ecstatic when I got the invitation from Madelyn. So nervous, though. So, so nervous."

"I can't imagine!" He chuckled, agreeing with her. "If it makes you feel any better, we've heard from a few members of the cast that they were looking forward to meeting you."

"That does actually help a lot, thank you," Mason giggled, a blush covering her cheeks. "You mind telling me who, though? I'd love to know who wants to talk to me and who I should probably not bother." She joked.

"Oh, nobody to avoid here. This is one of the nicest casts I've ever worked with," Noah assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "That being said, the boys seemed extra keen." He winked, making her laugh.

"Oh god, okay, I'll keep that in mind," Mason went along with it, looking around and seeing the rest of the cast goofing off a little ways away.

"So, I have to ask, Mason- keep in mind you don't have to answer if you don't want to, about your breakup, how are you doing? Your album is absolutely amazing, you told a beautiful story, but we've all heard about what happened afterward," He said, and Mason glanced down nervously, trying to maintain her smile as best she could.

"Yeah, totally. Uh- " She paused for a second. Her ex has never been in the public eye- they were high school sweethearts, which gave her album a sense of purity and authenticity that was almost rare in modern music. With that, however, comes a responsibility to keep him out of public scandal in the fallout of the album's success. "I am doing really well. I believe my ex is as well. Of course, he was always a huge inspiration for me, and he always supported me and my dreams, so I know he's still cheering me on, which is a nice feeling," Mason nodded, smiling as Noah dropped his arm from around her shoulders, patting her back.

"Well, you're stronger than I am because I would want him to be punching the air right now," Noah laughed.

"No! God, no, I'd never want that for him. I wish him all the success in the world, which just means something different for both of- " She tried to explain when she got bumped from behind and stumbled slightly forward. She let out a little squeak and tried to turn to look what happened when someone steadied her by her waist.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to knock you there," A man chuckled, making sure she was steady before letting her go. She was met with blue eyes that reflected the lights and the matching color of his suit just beautifully, and she quickly recognized him as Rafe- racking her brain for the actor's name. Drew- yes. That's it.

"No! No, you're fine—I was in the way," Mason said sheepishly, laughing it off and adjusting her dress again.

"Drew, Welcome back! While I've got you both here," Noah said, holding the microphone up to him as he nodded, leaning down a little in anticipation of the question. "Have you listened to Mason's album? We were just talking about it."

Drew nodded, smiling and locking eyes with Mason again briefly. "Yes, of course. It's both Maddie's favorites right now, they've always got it playing on set. If it wasn't so good I'd be sick of it." He chuckled.

"Aw—thank you!" Mason grinned. "Thanks for listening even if it's against your will." Her eyes connected again with Drew, and she felt herself blushing once more. He just had this aura about him that showed he was really listening and really cared about what she had to say. "Not to plug it here or anything, but we're almost at ten million streams on Spotify so I'm feeling really proud of it, it truly was a passion project for me. God, sorry I shouldn't be talking about that here..." She explained, looking back at the interviewer again, trailing off when she realized she was acting selfishly.

"No, don't apologize. You worked hard on it—you deserve to talk about it," Drew cut in before Noah could speak. "Everyone stream it—you won't regret it." He said, pointing to the camera.

"Yes, absolutely," Noah agreed. "We won't take up any more of your time, but I'll let you know we're all looking forward to your next album already." He smiled, giving Mason a quick hug.

"Thank you!" She waved as he and his crew were quick to move on to someone else. She took a deep breath, turning and jumping slightly when she saw Drew still standing there, looking down at her as she clasped her hand against her chest. "Oh, gosh. I didn't know you were still there," Mason giggled, quickly adjusting her hair.

"Sorry," Drew chuckled, holding his hand out to her. "We haven't properly met. I'm Drew. Or you might know me as Rafe, I guess."

She smiled, taking his hand and shaking it. "Mason. You might know me as the girl who got cheated on right after releasing an album about how amazing her relationship is."

This made him laugh, dropping his head back as he let go of her hand. "Hey, it's good to have a sense of humor about it, I guess." He said, locking eyes with her again. His charisma was truly captivating— it's rare to meet someone in the Hollywood scene who seemed to care about anyone other than themselves.

"I'm coping," Mason shrugged, laughing it off with him.

"Let's grab a few pictures together, then maybe a drink?" Drew suggested, guiding her back towards where the rest of the cast was taking photos with the beat-up van parked on the carpet. "I'll introduce you to everyone."

"Yeah! Yeah- thank you," Mason smiled, glancing over her shoulder and seeing Este stepping out. She quickly waved at Mason, giving her an excited look and a thumbs up, which she returned behind Drew's back.

No doubt the pictures of this moment will embarrass her tomorrow, but at least the debrief with Este in the Uber home will have a lot of good things to cover.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy@madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury@fullfledgedemo@rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @alimaythings, @chenslucy, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @suzyheartsrafe, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @lovelyxtommy, @thelomlisrafecameron, @realwifeofjackharlow

(sorry to tag everyone in this again!!)