#the most hardcore authors to ever have lived

[quotidian-oblivion]

Oh God, we're reading a book in english and my teacher said that the author had written and published a whole novel in just a year.

I was trying so hard not to say anything seeing as I've written two novel-length fics with a bunch of other stories in the span on just eight months.

Ma'am, the bar you say the author has set is too low for me.

[halfvalid]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you. 

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal. 

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew. 

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue. 

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom. 

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement. 

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?” 

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?” 

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!” 

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.” 

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.” 

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing. 

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market. 

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?” 

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.” 

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.” 

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.” 

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth. 

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked. 

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.” 

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade. 

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.” 

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.” 

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—” 

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.” 

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?” 

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back. 

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.” 

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look. 

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?” 

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes. 

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!” 

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back. 

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t just—” 

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him. 

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position. 

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store. 

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face. 

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—” 

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart. 

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now. 

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.” 

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think. 

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this. 

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe. 

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat. 

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh. 

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.” 

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?” 

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.” 

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would. 

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly. 

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point. 

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with. 

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more. 

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development. 

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.” 

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him. 

“I am not.” 

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.” 

“Leave me alone,” you muttered. 

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.” 

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?” 

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.” 

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed. 

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.” 

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.” 

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?” 

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.” 

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.” 

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered. 

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue. 

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises. 

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit. 

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured. 

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered. 

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you. 

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth. 

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back. 

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation. 

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?” 

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.” 

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours. 

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.” 

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember. 

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties. 

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered. 

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.” 

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length. 

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point. 

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss. 

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge. 

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite. 

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him. 

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning. 

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side. 

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.” 

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it. 

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage. 

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.” 

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that. 

© halfvalid 2023

[dcafanzine]

Hi everyone! We’re super excited to start introducing our contributors! Let’s let them introduce themselves!

————————————————————————

Hello! I’m Pluck and I’m a page artist on the Backstage Pass Zine alongside all these other incredible artists and authors! This is the first fanzine I’ve ever been a part of and I’m so excited for y’all to see what we’ve cooked up for you.

I’ve been a basic lurker in the FNAF fandom since the beginning, but I never considered myself **a hardcore fan** until DCA in Seurity Breach-I was so taken by the fact that all the animatronics hurt you except for Sun, and I fell headfirst into obsession with these clowns and I’ve been here ever since. Who’d have thought we’d end up here?

Tumblr

————————————————————————

Hey there! I'm Alex/Pavetta, a page artist for the Backstage Pass bonus zine! I've participated in a Transformers fanzine in the past, but this is the first time for anything FNAF related! I was very active in the fandom from FNAF 1-3, and then at the end of last year I discovered the DCA and couldn't get them out of my head since then! Very excited to participate in this zine!

X/Twitter | YouTube

————————————————————————

Heyo I'm Amber! I'm the cover artist for the main zine and a page contributor for the bonus zine :D This is my second zine I've ever been a part of and I'm deeply humbled to work along side with so many other artists on this!

Most know me from my work with Mob as I had created countless official artworks and animations for the Poppy Playtime community, but I am a very big fan of Fnaf and other horror genres! I was not too big into the DCA until I was dragged into the fandom 2 months after the release of security breach. Now the DCA live in my head rent free ever since. Weather it be for silly or emotional, it's incredibly inspiring to see so many people create works of them in their own portrayal and its genuinely amazes me to no extent.

Tumblr | Carrd

[capitalism-and-analytics]

Listen, please understand that people like me are doing our best to see things from your perspective. You are a cis white male living in a deep-red flyover state. I get that you don't exactly have a lot of motivation to support BIPOC or 2SLGBTQ+ people. But you also need to see that we aren't asking you to support us, but at least you could stop helping people who want us dead?

I think the part that confuses me the most is that this shouldn't even be a hard choice. If you want to broadcast what a hardcore rad-trad right-wing ultra conservative you are… Then OKAY I guess?? You do you. But how exactly does reblogging R-slur filled posts from Bronys like r4cs0 and takashi0 help you do that? I would think that reblogging from people who jerk off to clop porn would be the opposite of what a conservative would do!

So all we are asking is that you unfollow and block a group of people who sexually objectify characters from a children's cartoon show. And then you can go back to bragging about how hard you are going to vote for Trump in November. This seems like a win-win to me.

Apologies, but you either sent this to the wrong person or are incredibly incorrect in your assessment of me on pretty much every claim.

I don't see how you could say that you are doing your best to see things from my perspective without ever asking me about my perspective.

My state is not a "deep-red flyover state".

My fiancé is a BIPOC, so I would say that is a pretty strong motivation.

I haven't helped anyone that is actively killing others, but if you disagree, then feel free to let me know who these people are and I will be more than happy to reconsider my support of them.

I'm not a "hardcore rad-trad right-wing ultra conservative", which further evidences that you have no clue on my perspective.

Which R-slur filled posts are you referring to?

Which posts did I reblog from r4cs0 and takashi0? I rarely reblog others' posts, so it shouldn't be that hard for you to find.

Perhaps you're new to Tumblr or the internet, but very rarely are posts reblogged for the author and instead they are reblogged for the content of the posts.

That is not all that you are asking because you haven't asked it at all. Not once have I received an ask to block a group of people for any reason. If you are making that ask, then at least provide a common courtesy of giving me the names of the accused instead of attempting to create a blind witch hunt.

When did I ever start bragging about voting for Trump in November? I think the last time I even talked about my voting decision was almost a decade ago.

Appreciate the feedback and you being opinionated, but with an opinion so fueled with fallacies it is quite challenging to substantiate it in having any value.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

When We Are Together - Matty Healy

Summary: In which Matty falls in love with you in stages his entire life. He knows everything is better when you're together but the two of you are oblivious to the fact you're in love with each other.

Warnings: Swearing. A small section of smut in flashback 2. Unfortunately it's not with Matty. It's with George because I am a whore. Mentions of The S*n. Mentions of Matty going to rehab, obviously we don't know all the personal details apart from the fact there was an intervention after the ilwys era ended and he went and now he's in recovery.  

Author's Note: Self proclaimed 'Not a Matty girl' just wrote 12K lol this has legit taken so long cause I procrastinate but hope you like it!  Really fucking long because I tend to let my mind wonder, I don't even know if this is any good but I'm trying to get better. I thought the concept was cute anyway. So enjoy! Let me know what you guys think and if you liked it x

Word Count: 12K

Your life had always been surrounded by the boys. So many moments in your life that their fans could only ever dream of knowing about or being involved in but you didn’t know any different, it was just your life. You had no choice in the matter when your brother and best friend in the entire world was the bassist in the band. That’s right; Ross MacDonald was your big brother and you seemed to be somewhat of a legend amongst their hardcore fanbase yourself for putting up with their antics for as long as you had! Not that you really had a choice when you were tied to them via blood but they had also hired you as their personal assistant so you could follow them around the world and so none of them had to part from you for too long.

You had personal relationships with all of the band, not just your brother who genuinely was the best big brother you could have ever asked for. He was your best friend and had been since the moment you were born. Sometimes it irritated the others how annoying the two of you were when you both got into silly moods, with all your inside jokes and side looks that nobody else understood. Especially Matty who always wanted in on the joke. But Ross was a ride or die kind of guy and you were the same. If it came down to it you would fight over who took the first bullet.

Adam Hann. Adam truly was an angel of man sent to earth to be your bestie and you don’t think you could love him anymore if you could. Someone you could geek out about The Office with on the tour bus and who brought you coffee when he could see you needed a pick me up. The most level headed of the boys, you know he’ll always be on your side. Someone who’s come to your rescue during many nights out both pre and post fame and took your hand, pretended to be your boyfriend with no questions asked and got you away from creeps more times than you would have liked. You couldn’t be more grateful for a selfless friend like Adam Hann.

George Daniel. Your ‘little’ Georgie had been in your form at school, so apart from your brother until you were much older and started hanging out with them more, you had spent the most time with him. So it’s fair to say that the pair of you were close. So close that you lived with him and Matty in your early twenties. Even a small indiscretion on his 23rd birthday much to your brother’s dismay didn’t change the course of your relationship. Now that you were both thirty two and you were still working for him, clearly the two of you didn’t care that you had seen each other naked. If anything your night together all those many moons ago had brought you closer together. You would trust him with your life.

Then there was Matty. Matty was something else. If you asked his fans, depending on if you were asking old or new fans. He was something else in two senses of the word. To you he was just Matthew. Your big brother’s best friend who was a bit of a weird kid, transitioned into a somewhat cool teenager who you had a bit of a crush on when you were seventeen, to the most annoying person you’ve ever laid eyes on. But also he was your best friend. An old married couple is what George labeled you both and he wasn’t wrong, the pair of you did have a bit of a domestic life together when he wasn’t busy being a rockstar. 

I think the fans would be shocked to find out he likes doing the mundane things in life like doing the food shop with you and fighting at the tills that it was his turn to scan his club card. Or walking the dog, drinking a good cup of tea at his Mam’s house or cooking with you over a glass of wine with Donny Hathaway playing in the background on the record player.

He had done so much for you over the years and you always thought it was just Matty being Matty and looking out for you. Hiring you as the band’s assistant, so you could see the world with them so you weren’t stuck in a stuffy office job in England. Even though you had graduated from uni with a first class degree in photography. Moving you into his home when you broke up with your long term boyfriend in 2020 so you weren’t wallowing in self pity. It was probably then, that George cemented your “marriage status” because you did do everything together and apparently you had been oblivious your entire friendship until now.

It was in this moment in Belfast on the last night of the UK tour that your head swimming with all of the moments in your life that led you to here with Matty, tears brimmed with tears. That you realised that it was him the entire time.

April 2007

You pulled the front of the white tank top you were wearing down, allowing the frilly cups of your red bra to peek out the top. Your top tucked into a short black mini skirt, paired with a big chunky belt and hoop earrings and some wedged sandals on your feet. You actually felt good about yourself for once! You, Sarah and Rebecca ready to get drunk and dance your asses off with all of your friends as you celebrated Matty’s birthday.

Matty’s 18th birthday party was being held at his house. A classic Healy house party yet you still wondered how Denise and Tim were somehow trusting him enough for the night to not burn the house down so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends without parental supervision.

You of course had yet to turn eighteen, as had your brother who was only eleven months older than you. So you turned to your lord and saviour Adam Hann who went to the local off license and bought you a pack of Bacardi Breezers for the party.

When the three of you arrived; you immediately got swept away by your other school friends, giggling at the thought of getting drunk with all your friends and making out with boys your brother would definitely disapprove of was the motivation you needed to open your first drink of the evening.

It was after a few drinks, definitely too many shots of whatever George had proclaimed Matty’s Dad’s had left for the birthday boy. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had drunk that evening when you spotted Max. Tall, brunette, curly hair and a killer watt smile that made you weak at the knees, talking to George.

Silent motivation from Phoebe as she ruffled her hands through your hair and pushing your tits into a good position as Sarah dabbed on some more lip gloss before pushing you in the direction of the boys, slapping your ass with a quick “Go get him tiger!”

Shooting her a grin over your shoulder, you strutted on over to where George and Max stood clutching their beer bottles as they conversed about god knows what. Hoping to catch his attention, you threw on your best smile as you stopped in front of the two of them. 

“Hello boys!” You beamed a the two of them, eyes lingering on Max a little longer. “Having a good night?”  You asked, twiddling the straw around your drink as you waited for their answer.

“Even better now you’re here gorgeous!” 

Your heart fluttered for a moment. Max was flirting back.

“Your tits are looking mega tonight babe!” 

George broke your eye contact with the tall brunette as your eyes flitted towards him. The blush flushing across your cheeks at George’s compliment, “Ohhh thanks G!”  You laughed awkwardly, catching his eyes fall to your tits once more just as Ross walked past the three of you.

“Dude! That’s my sister!” He punched him in the arm; a scowl on his face and immediately pulling you away with him and far away from the boys and into the crowd of people dancing in Denise and Tim’s living room.

“You’re no fun!”  You huffed.

“You can do a lot better than Max sis. Believe me! I’m just looking out for you.” 

He smiled softly at you and you sighed, knowing you couldn’t ever stay mad at him. He knew you better than anyone else and always looked out for you no matter what. “Thanks bro.  I know. I’m just going to get some fresh air, it’s a bit stuffy in here.” 

You sent him a smile, squeezing past him and all the other sweaty bodies to head out the sliding doors at the back of Matty’s kitchen. Letting out the breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding as the cool spring air brushed over your skin. Taking in the serenity of the night air, you didn’t realise anyone else was out there until you heard a cough causing you to snap your head towards the noise.

Matty was leaning up against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Alright birthday boy! What you doing out here by yourself?” You laughed lightly as you approached; leaning next to him as you took in the slightly solemn look on his face.

“Bit overwhelming in there. Thought I’d like the attention but there’s too many people. Half of them are just here to get drunk, they don’t care about me.” He laughed bitterly; blowing smoke into the air. “Anyway. What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed some air. It was a bit stuffy in there. Too many people.”

“Ahhh so we’re alike in our thinking.” Matty laughed. “Wish it was just you and the boys to be honest.” He mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“Hey. You know if you want we can have a do over. Come over to mine and Ross’ tomorrow. We’ll order pizza and watch True Romance. I’d hate for you to not look back fondly at your 18th.”  You smiled softly as you spoke.

“You’re brilliant.” Matty’s eyes bright as he looked at you. “I’d really like that. Thanks sweetheart.”  Matty shot you a genuine smile for the first time since you stepped outside.

A brief moment of silence settled across the two of you before Matty spoke again.

“You look incredible tonight.”

“Ohhh.” You looked down at your feet, unsure of how to take the compliment.

“Hey.” Matty lifted your chin up. “What’s all that about? You’re the most beautiful girl in the room.” He said earnestly; swiping at the apples of your cheeks and holding your jaw in his hands.

“Just didn’t think anyone could look past the fact I’m Ross’ sister. Nobody ever calls me beautiful.”

“Not even Josh? Didn’t you date him for nearly a year?”  Matty asked as you shook your head.

“Then he’s an idiot. You’re always the most beautiful girl in the room darling.”

“Matty.” 

It came out a whisper as you both stared into each other’s brown eyes. Matty’s eyes dancing across your features, settling on your lips before looking back up and catching your gaze already on him. Matty leaned in, his face getting closer to your own as your mind started racing. 

Did you want to kiss Matty? Kinda, yeah! 

Should you kiss Matty? No, definitely not. Ross would kill the both of you. 

Did you kiss Matty? Yes.

“We shouldn’t.”  You whispered, lips mere inches away from his own.

“But a birthday kiss is all I want this year.” 

His words came out of a whisper, you didn’t say anything else just pushed your lips against his and allowed him to pull you closer as his mouth moved against the softness of your glossed lips. His hands moving from your face, dancing down the sides of your body and landing on your waist before he reluctantly pulled away, forehead resting against your own.

“You’re good at that.” He pecked your lips once more.

“Mmmm.”  You hummed; opening your eyes as Matty held you close. You quickly opened your mouth to say something and promptly shut it again when you caught the way Matty looked at you. “Fuck it!” You mumbled and slammed your lips back against his own.

The birthday boy now pushing you up against the wall, hands impossibly tight on your waist as he pulled you as physically close as possible. Your hands uprooting themselves in the hair at the back of his neck and tugging as you snogged him like your life depended on it. Like you weren’t pushed against the back of his kitchen wall in his garden, where any of your school friends could come out and catch you. Or worse; your brother but you didn’t care because the way Matty was kissing you made your whole body tingle.

Tugging his hair again as his tongue moved against your own. Matty groaned loudly; finally pulling away. “Fuck settle down! You know I can’t be found with you and if you keep doing that, someone is going hear us.” He groaned as he continued to pepper kisses up the side of your jaw.

“Hmmm, don’t feel like being murdered by my brother right now.”  You sighed; leaning back against the wall to take him in. Lips swollen and eyes bright as he watched you.

“I don’t want to be murdered by your brother either. Worst birthday ever!” He chuckled; hands dancing across your waist. “But that was my favourite birthday gift! Thanks sweetheart!” Matty grinned; watching you push yourself off the wall and smooth yourself down before heading back towards the house.

You paused for a moment; your foot on the last step, your hand lingering on the handle to the back door for a millisecond as you looked over your shoulder one last time at Matty who was just watching you. You sent him a soft smile, your hair falling in front of your face as you laughed before leaving him the dark as you rejoined the party.

A kiss with Matty who was your big brother’s (and your) annoying friend, someone you had an innocent schoolgirl crush on once he started becoming a tiny bit cool as the lead singer in their band. Something you didn’t think was an overly big deal, after all people kiss people they shouldn’t when they’re drunk all the time. Turns out it was the starting point of the trajectory of how your’s and Matty’s story begun.

March 2013

In the midst of releasing a series of EPs and gigging around the country and building up their hardcore fanbase. You had managed to get the boys all to just relax for a moment and celebrate the release of their Music for Cars EP and the fact that it was George’s 23rd birthday this weekend. And how did you celebrate? The only way you lot knew how, a dirty ole’ house party just like the good old days.

You had managed to squeeze God knows how many people in little flat you shared with George and Matty. As far as flatmate’s go, they weren’t all that bad. You had moved in with them straight after university so you had definitely had worse.

You had just downed what you believe was your fifth vodka shot of the evening and decided you needed to pace yourself a bit more if you weren’t going to stumble into your room and pass out any time soon. So upon spotting Ross, you wondered over to your brother who was sat talking to Hann; wiggling your way in between the two of them with a giggle. Ross automatically lifting his arm for you to slip under as you nursed the rest of your wine at a slower pace until your glass was empty.

After your head stopped spinning a sufficient amount, you found yourself milling about the flat and smuggling yourself into Matty’s embrace as he poured you another glass.

“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?” 

“Mmm. Have you see the birthday boy?” You felt Matty’s lips pressed to the top of your head as you asked.

“You leaving me already?”  He chuckled. “Think he popped out the back for a cig.” 

He motioned towards the back door. You immediately unravelled yourself from him, a kiss smacked against his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Not that you noticed in your flurry but Matty did. The longing for the feeling of the two of you had shared in his back garden prickling at his chest as his eyes locked onto your retreating figure as you rushed through the throng of remaining people in the kitchen and exiting the flat.

Matty was right. You found George smoking out the back in your little tiny back garden under the dying glimmer of your shit security light that was attached to your back wall. Turning in your direction at the sound of the back door shutting, George automatically opened his arms for you to slot into his side, arm hung loosely over your shoulder as he let out the smoke he had just inhaled. Wordlessly placing the cig in your mouth to let you take a drag yourself, you passed it back and forth between the two of you in silence.

Stubbing the end into the brick, George dropped it into the bucket of dirty filters before breaking the silence. “God what time is it?”  He asked as you watched him push the balls of his hand into his eyes.

“Nearly 2am! Why you need to go to bed Grandad?!”

“Fucking maybe?! How many people are left?” The now blonde motioned towards the house.

“Only a few. Heard Sally talk about some of them heading into town on the way out and Luke and Helen have to be up early so they left nearly a hour ago. Just the band and about three other now. You ready to head in birthday boy?” You asked; holding out your hand for him to take with a smirk.

With a silent nod George didn’t hesitate to grab onto your hand as you tried not to trip over the many plant pots that were littered across your garden path. “You given me my birthday present yet? I can’t remember?” You turned to look at the drummer. An amused look on your face because he had given you the brightest smile when he had opened the personalised drumsticks you had gotten him earlier. “Or are you my present? Wait is this an ambush?” George gasped. “Please be an ambush!” He grinned at you.

“You should be so lucky!”  You scoffed; before shooting him a smirk as you opened the the kitchen door.

“Your tits look mega in that dress by the way!” His tone smug as he closed the kitchen door behind him. Your only response being the cackle that left your mouth as you left George to watch you walk away as you joined the rest of the band in the living room.

Lucky indeed because once the remaining guests left about twenty minutes later. You had snuck into George’s room to say good night and wish him a happy birthday and it’s how you found yourself currently with aching arms. As they were locked either side of George’s knees, his hands tight on your waist as you bounced on his cock.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in this position. You do know he had already made you cum twice though. Once on his tongue and once with his fingers but my God were you spiralling towards your third. The thick drag of his cock between your legs as he stretched you out was delicious but you needed to cum quick because you weren’t sure how long you could stay in this position for.

“Jesus Christ! So fucking good George!” You wailed; as George’s thumb swiped through the slick between your legs and rubbing at your clit.

“Feel good baby?”

“Yes. Shit! So good!” You panted. “Arms hurt though, fuck.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He said; pulling you forward.

You fell forward at full speed; having to catch yourself on either side of his face to stop yourself from head butting him as his large hands moved from your hips to grab on to the globes of your ass before plowing up into your cunt so fast you saw stars dance under your eyelids. All you could do was shake and babble out a string of, “So good. So good. So good.” As George made you cum again.

Pulling out quickly. You had no time to recover as George flipped you over; face already in his pillows as he pushed back into you as he chased his own orgasm. The drag of his cock made you feel delirious at the speed in which he was fucking you back into the mattress.

“Fucking hell. You’re so good G! Yes! Yes! Yes!”  You screamed into the mattress, really not caring that your mutual best friend was on the other side of the wall.

His name fell from your lips like a chant. You hadn’t been fucked this good in forever, if at all and the fact it was your Georgie made your head spin.

“Come on baby. One more and I’ll give it to you.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder before pulling you back on to his cock at rapid speed and sending you hurtling towards your fourth orgasm of the night (well morning) and George to fill you up with a satisfied groan.

Pulling out; your gentle giant rolled over, the pair of you catching your breath after fucking for a good hour. Rolling your head to the side to take him in, you pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder with a chuckle. “Happy Birthday G!” 

The now blonde let out a loud laugh as the pair of you snuggled into each other’s arms, like you would normally do under any other circumstances as George pressed a kiss to the side of your face. The temporary bliss shielding you both from the circumstances you’d have to face in the morning.

When you did manage to wake up the next morning, George was still fast asleep but his alarm clock read 10:12 and you knew you’d have to get up to tidy the flat because Matty certainly wouldn’t. As you looked around George’s room, you scrambled to find anything to hide your dignity as you moved around to clean up. As you pulled the shirt George was wearing the night before over your bare body, you didn’t have chance to register the other voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Where is she? She’s not answering her phone? She’s not in her room either.”

Matty didn’t answer Ross’s question, just grumbled into his arms before flinging himself down onto the dining room table dramatically.

“What’s the matter with you? You look like shit Healy!” Hann shoved his shoulder with a laugh as he threw himself on the sofa.

“Well you’d look like shit if you didn’t get any sleep cause you could hear George fucking at all hours of the night too.” Matty snapped at the two of them.

“Who was he shagging? I thought he wasn’t seeing that blonde anymore?”

Unfortunately for you, this was when you decided to make your grand appearance. Walking out of George’s room in nothing but his shirt and your knickers from the night before. The three of them silent as they took in your appearance.

Adam’s jaw slack as he looked on in shock as everything clicked into place before his very eyes.

Matty looked pained as he ran a hand through his curls before pushing himself up off the dining room table and shuffling into the kitchen, silently flicking the kettle on.

Ross looked angry. You could see it simmering in his eyes. The vein on his neck pulsing as he starred you down.

“I’ve been trying to ring you. Why were you in George’s room? ”

“I’ve been asleep. I’m here now aren’t I? Everything alright?” You brushed past him, trying to avoid talking about the inevitable. You hated when Ross was angry.

“Why do you have George’s shirt on?”

The two of you competed in a stare off. The both of you silent. Neither of you making the next move. If there was one thing you MacDonald siblings were, it was stubborn. Adam was watching on in anticipation. The only noise to be heard was Matty shuffling around the kitchen in the background. Your brother asked you again. Why was he asking you questions he didn’t want to know the answers to.

“Don’t make me say it bro.”  You sighed; annoyance flashing across his features.

“You slept with my best friend?”  Ross immediately started raising his voice. He already knew the answer, he didn’t need your confirmation. Not that he waited for it because he was already storming towards George’s room and right on queue, the door swung open to George just in his boxers.

“Ross. Stop!”  Your voice loud and going ignored.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER?!”  

Ross was seething. Hann was immediately by your side ready to intervene. Matty still off and away from the drama (which was very unlike him) that was about to unfold. He was unlawfully quiet but you couldn’t think about that when Ross was squaring off with George in the doorway to your rooms. The shouting sounded like you were under water as you zoned it out. This was a disaster. It was only when Hann touching your arm, whispering if they should intervene or not that brought you back to reality and had you storming right in between the two giants.

Pushing your way in between them. You stood with your back against George’s chest, a hand on your brothers and looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Ross. Please. Fighting George isn’t going to solve anything.”

“You slept. With my sister. What about fucking bro code?! Not cool dude!”

“It was me.” You shouted over the top of his booming voice, all four of them turning to look at you as you very rarely raised your voice. “It was me. I initiated it. So if you’re going to be mad at someone, shout at me because it’s my fault.”

“Babe you don’t have to defend me.” George touched your shoulder gently. “I know, we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t touch her!” Ross zoned in on George’s hands upon your shoulders. He quickly lifted them up in surrender.

“George, we’re both consenting adults.” You addressed him before turning back to your brother. “I’m sorry but if you’re going to sulk about it, blame me because I started it. Ross you know I love you more than anything in this world but you can’t hate everyone that goes near me.”  You reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. “It was literally a one night stand. Promise it won’t happen again.”

Ross tried to pull his hand out of yours at your words, the vein in his neck twitching at the fucked up thought of his little sister casually sleeping around. “I’m not fucking happy about it. Fucking bro code dude.” He threw his hands up dramatically before turning towards the door. “I’m going for some fresh air.” 

Ross quickly yanked open the front door, Hann hot on his tail, muttering something about checking on him which left you with Matty and George. The three of you standing in silence for a moment before George popped a kiss on top of your head and mumbling about a cig and heading out the back.

Matty disappeared again into the kitchen as you plonked yourself down at the dining room table with a groan. The ticking of the clock the only thing to be heard as the two of you were now the only ones left in your tiny flat. Sitting down next to you, Matty didn’t say anything. Just pushed a mug of coffee towards you and sipping his own.

“You don’t hate me do you? You haven’t said anything all morning.”

Matty took a sip of his coffee, a look of contemplation on his face as his eyes flitted towards you. The silence deafening and the thought of him being upset with you made your heart ache.

“You never offered me that on my birthday.”

You blinked rapidly as you stared at him. That was it. That’s what he chose to say.

Matty tried to say it with a joking lilt to his words. A smirk hiding behind his mug of coffee as you took in his words. But he knew deep down that there was a seriousness to it. It was true, you’ve never done anything with him other than when you kissed at his 18th, on his birthday or otherwise. Apart from one drunken weekend about two weeks later. He wasn’t sure why the thought made his heart pang. But it did. You opened your mouth to respond, quickly shutting it again as a flush rushed to your cheeks as you remembered the night in his garden five birthdays ago.

You let out a shaky laugh, not knowing what to say, shoving his shoulder playfully as you settled back into your chair, steaming coffee ready to be drunk.

“I don’t, you know.” 

You turned you head to curly haired man beside you confused at what he was saying. 

“I could never hate you.”

2014

You weren’t exactly sure where you were. What state you were in. What time it was or how much you and the band had to drink or what drugs Matty had taken tonight but you were fucking exhausted. You had been following your brother and your best friends around the world for the best part of just over a year, ‘acting’ like their personal assistant. 

You were essentially a glorified baby sitter for these four man children. You wouldn’t change it for the world though, you got to travel the world with your best friends and take cool photography in the cool cities you visited but it was all catching up to you. All whilst they were busy being rockstars, some more than others but that was a different story.

You wanted nothing more than to be in the dingy little flat you shared with Matty and George in Manchester, catching up on washing, going down to your local Sainsbury’s and doing the weekly shop. Anything that didn’t require going to bed post 3am.

But you were currently in a club in Atlanta or was it Nashville? You didn’t know but what you did know was that you were bloody tired and the thought of travelling on the tour bus to the next state with a hangover was genuinely about to send you into a downward spiral if you didn’t get yourself back to the hotel asap.

Tucked neatly underneath Hann’s arm, his arm loosely hanging over your shoulder as you rested your head upon his shoulder, you prayed for your brother to round up the other two quicker than he was because you were actually asleep standing up at this point. You didn’t think it was possible to be asleep with your eyes open but you were positive at this precise moment in time it was currently happening.

Ross finally reappeared with George in tow but there was no Matty trailing behind the two of them. You groaned loudly as you clapped eyes on the two of them. Ross looked defeated, tiredness set his eyes too. George smirked when he heard your groans.

“Not the usual type of groans you make when you see me baby.”

“I’ll punch you so hard before Ross even gets the chance to if you don’t shut the fuck up Daniel's. Where’s Healy?”  You huffed, scowling at the boy in front of you.

“Mumbled something incoherent before refusing to leave.” Your brother grumbled.

“Give me two minutes.” You sent Hann a soft smile, before removing yourself from the bubble the two of you’d created at the end of the bar before pushing your way through all the sweaty bodies until you found him trying to chat up some blonde model type near the DJ booth.

Gently placing your hand around his bicep to get his attention, his curls whipped in your direction to see who was touching him. The first thing you noticed apart from the bright grin he was now sporting were his dilated pupils. So he had taken coke again, brilliant. 

The sigh that left you so deeply rooted, you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on it. You hated the way it made him feel after the high was over.

“Hi darling! Hasn’t tonight been amazing? Wait where are the others? Can you believe your brother tried to make me to go back to the hotel? How sick was the gig tonight? Do you want to dance? Hey let me introduce you to…” He spoke at a hundred miles a hour as he spewed out utter nonsense, turning to realise the blonde he was chatting up was long gone.

You watched Matty’s shoulders sag, sad eyes now back on your own. “You fancy coming back with me? I’m dead on my feet and don’t really fancy nursing this inevitable hangover whilst being stuck on the tour bus for over six hours with you lot without at least four hours of decent sleep.”

“But I don’t want to go home yet.” He pouted.

“You come with me now, I’ll let you stay in my bunk tomorrow and I won’t complain about how clingy you are. Promise!”

“Like a sleepover?!”  Matty’s face lit up again.

“If you like, yeah!” You laughed at his childlike enthusiasm.

“Come on then, let’s go right now!” He started to drag you through the crowds. “I’m sharing with Ross tonight. I think he’d rather kill himself than watch you throw yourself at me!” 

“I don’t throw myself at you.” You laughed at the frown he was pulling at you.

“It’s been known to happen Healy! I don’t mind though. My bunk tomorrow. Pinky promise.”

“Tomorrow.”  Matty sent you a soft smile; his pinky looping around your own before you started to tug him back towards the boys. “I just want to clarify, I don’t throw myself at you I just like lying on your tits is all!” He said, pulling a laugh out of you as you approached the rest of the band. Your brother already leading the troops out the club as he saw your approach, eager to get out of there and into bed.

You had currently been on the road from Atlanta to Raleigh, North Carolina for the past two hours and the hangover was showing no signs of disappearing. You had already watched half a season of The Office with Hann and had taken a half arsed nap with Ross but it was hard trying to sleep in the lounge, when your head was knocking off his shoulder every time the bus hit a pot hole.

Not to mention; if Matty made one more fucking sound, you were absolutely positive one of you was going to throw him out the window. It was a toss up between you and Hann, whoever got to him first I suppose. But he was getting on your last nerve. He was annoying at the best of times but there was something about his come down today that was irritating you to no fucking end. He so much as breathed too loudly and it was sending you spiralling into deep pit of annoyance.

You and the band were up back in the lounge area, some Adam Sandler movie playing quietly in the back ground that you were pretty sure none of them were even paying attention to. When Matty threw his phone across the bus, swearing something incoherent under his breath and it was the last straw.

Standing up abruptly, you managed to startle both Ross and Hann at the speed in which you moved. Pulling down George’s hoodie that you had stolen, so it covered more of your ass over the pair of gym shorts you had on. You turned back towards your brother and Adam, irritation etched across your features, scowling at Matty as you eyed him out of your peripheral, as he moped about next to George. 

Just the image of him, made you want to roll your eyes.

“I’m going to my bunk before I fucking throttle him!”  

You sent them both a sarcastic smile before storming off to your bunk. You can’t have been there ten minutes before your peace was interrupted by Matty who was peering around the curtain and asking if he can join you. You let out a big sigh before silently nodding your head as he lumbered on into the small space.

Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist; his head found home upon your chest just like it always did when he wanted a cuddle. Your hand that was wrapped around him made its way up to his head, where it settled in his curls, finger tips running across his scalp. The sound of his soft sighs automatically calming down the irritation that had been bubbling inside you since he had awoken this morning.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been lying there in silence. You only broke the silence when the coldness of Matty’s fingertips slipped underneath your hoodie to touch the warmth of your skin. His thumb rubbing circles across the softness of your hips as he snuggled further into your tits as one of his legs started pushing its way in between your own as he got comfy.

“Matty?” Your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention.

“You said you wouldn’t complain.” His voice muffled as he spoke into your covered breasts.

“Your fingers are fucking freezing that’s all.” Your chest vibrated with laughter.

“Sorry sweetheart” Matty moved the slightest bit, to kiss the underside of your chin before snuggling back into the warmth of your hoodie.

“I don’t mean to, you know?”  He whispered softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t mean to make you angry.” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, that you nearly missed it.

“I’m not angry. Why would you think I’m angry at you?”

“You looked like you’d rather die than be anywhere near me before.” The hand that was weaving through his curls stopped. “I hated it. Hated that you looked at me like that. Made me feel even more shit than I already do.”

“Healy look at me.” Matty didn’t move a muscle, head still tucked underneath your chin, no effort in moving at all at your words.

“Babe. Look at me.” Your voice more stern, wiggling away from his grip so you could look down at him properly. “I could never hate you. Ever.” Your eyes flitted across his features, hardened by the late nights on tour and the hardcore partying. “I hate what that stuff does to you. I would never stop you from having fun but when you do that stuff, I hate how it makes you hate yourself the next day. I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret because believe it or not Healy. I’m quite fond of you and I don’t think my heart could take it if something happened to you. Neither would my brother’s or Hann’s or George’s. We love you a stupid amount you know.”

Matty blinked at you as he took in your words, his brown eyes glossing over before shoving his face into you neck, the grip around your waist becoming impossibly tighter. Your body shaking as his vibrated against yours, soft sobs leaving him as he chanted; “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again.

All you could do was hold him closer and reassure him, that he had nothing to be sorry for and you were just looking out for him because anything else, you were afraid it might break you and you’d cry too. As your best friend was breaking his heart and wetting the hoodie you were wearing.

“Don’t apologise for having fun. I just want you to be careful. All I ever want is for you to be okay and sometimes what you do with all those people you don’t know isn’t good for you sweetheart.”

You squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As he mumbled how “I’ll be better, I promise” into your neck, pressing multiple kisses in quick succession to just under the right side of your jaw before settling back into silence where the two of stay for some time.

The soft regular movement of Matty’s thumb rubbing circles on your hip stopped, his hand significantly less colder than they were before he had them up your hoodie, moved across the expanse of your lower back and rolling you over so you were now draped over him instead and tucked into his side. 

“You know sometimes I feel the only time I might get better is when we are together. You ever feel like that?”

It was now your turn to nod silently, a soft hum leaving your mouth as you pressed a quick kiss into his skin as you settled into a slumber.

2017

You had been pottering about your flat most of the morning, doing a deep clean of the place before you were supposed to be heading to meet the boys for Sunday dinner. Your boyfriend of nearly a year Michael, once again opting out of spending time with you and your family, claiming he had better things to be doing that sitting about and listening to the boys talk about what they had been getting up to in the studio again.

Personally you think it was because George let slip last time Michael could actually be bothered to join you all for a drink, that he had slept with you in a drunken ramble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend, your brother and yourself. And Michael didn’t take too fondly to the fact you were still close with George after the confession.

You were in the middle of folding the last bit of the washing that you had dumped on your bed when your phone pinged with a text from Hann.

‘Did you get a letter in the post this week? x’

‘I get a lot of stuff in the post Ads! Off who? x’

‘Matty x’

The moment you saw his name, your heart got stuck in your throat. None of you had heard from him since he he had left, something to do with his recovery. So the thought of contact from him had you dropping your phone on the bed and rushing from your room, shouting at Michael about the post you had received this week. Only receiving a mumble from him about the fire place; had you dashing to the living room, where you rifled through the post sat on top of the mantelpiece. 

There slotted in between this months Rolling Stone subscription and a local take away menu was a white envelope addressed to you. 

A Barbados post mark sitting in the top right corner.

Dropping the rest of the mail on the coffee table, you rushed back to your bedroom, locking the door immediately before sitting at the edge of your bed and taking in Matty’s scrawl of a penmanship. Running your fingers over the ink; your mind flashed back to that day. 

The day you realised he wasn’t okay. 

How completely out of it he was as you watched him at their last festival gig of the iliwys tour cycle. How utterly miserable he looked as he threw himself about the stage, looking just the shadow of the man you knew and loved.

You knew something wasn’t right as you watched from the side of stage with their manager Jamie. George ever the professional, had even broke his concentration bubble to catch your eye several times during their festival set, worry set in his features. 

The way your gentle giant walked straight up to you, stopped in front of you and just by the look in your eyes. Your face never one to hide your emotions. George wrapped his arm around you and without a single word, the pair of you knew you had to speak to the other boys about it. You needed to talk to him.

The night of the intervention. The way he screamed and shouted at you all. He admitted to using but he didn’t do it quietly. The way Ross stepped in front of you in defence when he swore at you. Hann’s hand wrapped tightly around your own, George’s hand squeezing your shoulder in support as your brown eyes glossed over as you took in the man in front of you. He wasn’t your Matty and you hated looking at him like this. 

You didn’t want to look at him at all and it broke your heart.

Slipping your finger into the envelope you finally tore it open, slipping out several pages of paper. You weren’t sure how long you were holding them before you actually unfolded them but it felt like a lifetime of contemplating before you managed to finally take a deep breath and compose yourself enough to read his words.

‘Darling,

As part of my recovery, I’ve been tasked to write a letter to everyone I’ve hurt and yours is the last one I’ve got to write. Not because you mean the least to me. Quite the opposite. Yours has been the hardest to write. Harder than Gabby. My Mam, Dad & Louis & the boys because you mean the absolute world to me. 

This is actually the third time I’ve attempted to write this. Admitting that I’ve hurt you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You know what I’m like, I’m a stubborn twat at the best of times but I needed to do this because you deserve this apology probably the most.

You’ve never once judged me and the fucked up things I do when I’m on one. Since we were kids you’ve stuck by my side, defended me when I really didn’t deserve it and loved me endlessly from the sidelines and I’ve definitely not deserved your love but you gave me it anyway.

Do you remember that time we were on tour in 2014 and I was fucked up on coke for god knows how many days in a row and you couldn’t even be in the same room as me that day on the bus when I was on that god awful come down on the way to North Carolina?

Yet you still didn’t say no when I selfishly came crawling to your bunk to interrupt your peace and quiet with my tail between my legs, asking to come lie with you. You could have told me to piss off but you didn’t, you let me squish myself into your bunk and your arms and let me sleep off my hangover in your arms without complaining once. I would have complained but you didn’t, you let me and my cold hands snake their way into your personal space like I hadn’t gotten on your last nerve just ten minutes prior. 

I’m quite a selfish person. You my darling are the most selfless person I know and I don’t deserve the good grace you’ve given me time and time again. Especially seeing as I dragged you along for the ride and then you’ve had to babysit me because I can’t control myself when it comes to drugs and showing off because I want everyone to like me.

You could have taken the tough love route, told me I’m a big fuck up and judged me for my drug use and tried to get me to stop (which probably would have have had the opposite effect out of defiance) but you didn’t. You silently kept an eye on me and made sure I didn’t end up killing myself. Until I took it too far.

I’ve seen you look at me with distaste over the years. Yet nothing compares to the way you looked at me that day you guys staged your intervention. I didn’t think you guys had noticed. I thought me and Miss H had this great big secret going on and I didn’t want to let any of you guys in on it because it would ruin what we had.

Yet you know me better than anyone. You and George both just knew that day. Of course you did. You’re my best friends. But you don’t know how happy I am the four of you staged that intervention and told me I needed to get my shit together.

When I think about the way I lashed out at you. The way your big brown eyes that usually sparkle with mischief when we’re with each other, glossed over as you just stood and took it and didn’t even raise your voice at me once. I can feel the lump in my throat tighten as I write this.

I deserved it you know. I deserved whatever fury was bubbling inside you because I was a class A cunt that day! I’m truly surprised Ross didn’t knock my head off and I wouldn’t have blamed him either if he had done!

I’m just so glad you did something because the thought of losing every single one of you shatters my soul so much, I would cease to exist without you.

I could sit here and write down the list of all things I’m sorry for but physically we don’t have the time or enough paper! But you should know that I am.

I’m sorry. 

For everything.

I’m doing okay. The best I’ve been in a long time. The only way being here might get better is if you were here too.

I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m begging for it because the thought of you hating me and not being able to trust me anymore kills me.

You really an angel on this earth.

I don’t deserve you.

I love you.

Yours Matthew x

p.s I cannot wait to be reunited with your tits! I’ve missed them!

You let out a chortled laugh as you read through the last line of the letter. Your hands quickly making their way to your face as you wiped the tears that were streaming from your face. The cuffs of your hoodie wet from where you’ve tried to stop the flow of tears. Pressing the letter to your chest, you took a few deep breaths to try compose yourself before you left the confinements of your bedroom.

Hurriedly shoving the letter into your handbag, so there was no chance Michael could stumble across your letter. He didn’t like Matty as it was, you didn’t want to give him ammunition to say anything. You grabbed your car keys and rushed out of the house without a word to your boyfriend and heading straight to Hann’s.

2020

You had broken up with Michael.

The red flags should have been there from the start really. He always had less than nice words to say about you and your relationships with the boys. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say in general but you were blinded by love and the man he was when you first met that you didn’t see the red flags being waved right in front of your face until your heart (and self confidence) were already broken.

Your brother didn’t like Michael, he thought there was something off about him from the off but you put it down to Ross doing his job as your big brother but his opinion didn’t waver once in the four years you were together. George never liked how possessive he was and the fact he became even more so and tried to stop you from speaking to him after he found out about your night together. Which just fyi happened three years prior to meeting him, so he (everyone) was flabbergasted as to why he was so bothered! Hann. Your sweet angel of a bestie had even voiced how he didn’t like him and he was never one to be rude which should have also been a clue you were dating a dickhead.

Then there was Matty. Matty hated him. The feelings were mutual. Michael had told you plenty of times over your four years together that he hated your best friend but he would never tell you why. Matty told you it was because ‘he was a twat who didn’t deserve you’. You were obliged to agree because that mother fucker cheated on you!

Multiple women across the last two years of your relationship. 

To say you were stunned was an understatement yet it somehow made sense and fell into place so easily when you thought about it all. Yet that didn’t make it hurt any less. But a friend of yours sending you the evidence whilst you were on the last night of the UK tour was the final nail in the coffin that was your shitty relationship with him.

You weren’t sure who wanted to kill him more. Your brother? Matty? Or George? The three of them were raging amongst one another at their after party which should have been a celebration whilst Hann sat with his arms wrapped around you as you cried to him and Carly. You didn’t think anything would make you feel better apart from getting obliterated with your favourite people and forgetting about Michael and the impending doom that was about to be bestowed upon the entire world.

Matty was your saving grace.

Asked you to move in, without even hesitating. Naturally you said yes, sitting in your flat all by yourself whilst you cried over your douchebag of an ex during lockdown did not sound appealing to you. It was giving ‘Emma Pilssbury crying to Celine Dion in her car from Glee’ and you weren’t quite ready to hit that stage of your breakup depression just yet.

Two weeks turned into two months and then four months of lockdown but quite frankly you had never been happier. Living with Matty again, surprisingly was just as good the second time round if not easier. Except this time you weren’t poor, your kitchen roof wasn’t leaking and there was a 95% less drug taking which made your life a whole lot less stressful.

It was just easy with him. At some point whilst the world stood still, Matty and Tahliah broke up and then it really just was you two; doing your washing, fighting over who’s turn it was to use their club card during the weekly shop at Tesco and raising his (both of your’s) new dog, Mayhem.

The two of you had been getting ready to move into a studio tomorrow with George after four months of just the two of you playing house, the pair of them just itching to get back to work. You were aware that Matty had been writing already but you knew it would be full steam now Notes had been released and you wanted to make use of the time you had left just the two of you.

Only because you knew as soon as you got your hands on George. That was it! Not a chance Matty was getting any attention. You had missed your big friendly giant more than anything and you knew from your FaceTime with him last night whilst you couldn’t sleep that he was more than excited to see you too.

All three of you were sunbathing in the garden. Mayhem by your side as the two of you soaked up some much needed sun. The heatwave the UK was currently in the middle of was doing wonders for your skin. You had been lying in silence for the past thirty minutes, a book covering your face to block out the sun as you tried to read. Matty’s head in your lap as you presumed he was napping when you suddenly felt him turn over in your lap, now on his side and looking up at you.

Lifting the book ever so slightly, so you could peek underneath at him, you cocked an eyebrow as he watched you with a gentle gaze. “Yes?” Your tone rich with sarcasm as you stared back at him. “Anything actually going through that pretty head of yours Healy? What you thinking about?”

“Us.”

“Us?” You laughed. “What about us?”

“You remember my eighteenth birthday?”  He asked; peering up at you with a soft smile.

“The party?” Matty nodded. “I remember Ross stopping me from getting with Max! Remember him? I was gutted!”  You laughed. “Why?”

“You know that’s not what I meant?” Matty frowned slightly as he pouted at you.

“Of course I do.” You put your book down, your hands automatically reaching for what was left of his curls,“What about it?”

“You ever think about it?”

“Sometimes. Think we’ve done a fantastic job at keeping it from my brother! Especially with your big gob!”  You smiled down at him as you ran your hand through his curls gently.

“Funny!”  He sent a glare your way, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt to be intimidating. 

“What’s got you thinking about that kiss from a million years ago anyway?”

“Wanking material.” He somehow managed to say without cracking smile.

It was your turn to shoot him a glare at his crudeness. It wasn’t long though until he was grinning up at you from his place in your lap. You pushed his head away from you in fake annoyance. God you couldn’t stand him sometimes!

“Ohh come on darling. I hear you sometimes! We all do it, you’ve got to think of something!” Matty tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah I think about G’s 23rd birthday.” You smirked. Your vibrator was good but it wasn’t George. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good orgasm and thinking it might have been before Michael makes you want to cry. Your confession/kind of a joke caused the grin to fall from his face and you almost felt bad, knowing he doesn’t want to hear about the incredible night you had with George because if anyone asked him, he absolutely did not want to relive it.

“I’m joking!” Your hand reached for his curls again. “Seriously though, what’s got you reminiscing about it. It’s been a long time.”

“Just thinking about how much I love you is all.” His confession made you stop. “What would have happened if we’d said fuck it and we ended up together.”

“I don���t think Ross would have been too happy. You saw how mad he got about G!”  You laughed nervously as you thought about stopping your brother from knocking his band mate out.

“He’d have gotten over it.” Matty was now leaning up on his arms, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your bikini clad torso before pressing several kisses in quick succession up your stomach until he was hovering over your chest and looking down at your face. “If we were happy, he’d have been happy. You know he would have been.”

His actions made you hold your breath. It being strangely intimate and probably the most intimate you’d been since you were teenagers. You wondered if he was actually going to kiss you again but he just looked down at you fondly.

“You know I’d do anything for you right?”  You nodded. “You’re one of the only people who makes me truly happy.  I’d literally go too far just you have you near. I’d go blind just to see you!”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics of his statement but the sweet sentiment made you smile, you reached up to hold the side of his face in your hands. Your thumb sweeping over the apple of his left cheek. The pair of you just basking in the warmth of the sun and each other. Unsure how long you hadn’t said anything, Matty broke the silence in the most Matty way.

“Literally anything you need. I’ve got you for life sweetheart. A cuppa? A joint? An orgasm? I’m your man!” 

A chortle left your mouth as he cheekily beamed down at you, waiting for what he knew would be a somewhat sarcastic response. He didn’t realise he’d really set himself up for what you were about to say.

“Don’t worry I’m good. I’m seeing G tomorrow!”

The way his eyes narrowed at you made you cackle even louder as he finally jumped up off you, to walk back inside without another word. “I’m sorry!”  You laughed. “I promise not to shag George when I see him. I’m good with my vibrator I promise!”  You manage to sputter out through your laughter. “Stick the kettle on whilst you’re in there love.”  You shouted after him.

Matty threw you the middle finger over his shoulder which made you laugh even more as he went though the back door, Mayhem hot on his heels; knowing fine well he was going to put the kettle on and make you a brew just how you liked it because for as long as he can remember he’s never been able to say no to you and he didn’t think he’d ever will.

2023

The 1975 in Show and Concert was possibly your favourite tour that you’d been apart of with the boys. There was an accumulative of factors; the fact you weren’t the only girl on tour this time round, Carly had joined Adam with their son and Charli had come to as many shows as her own schedule permitted. You also had a little part to play at Matthew’s request (obviously!) donned in a white lab coat, you brought Matty a hot honey and lemon on stage every night and pottered about with the rest of the crew, making sure your brother and the rest of the band were all good before slipping off to watch the rest of the show from backstage.

Or it could have been that you and Matty were closer than ever. Ever since lockdown and the pair of you had been living together, everything seemed so simple that since restrictions were lifted, you just carried on living together. I think when George removed the last box of things from your old flat to take to Matty’s did it for him, that he just shook his head with a laugh. 

“You guys really are an old married couple!” He chuckled; slamming the boot close and jumping in the car before you could get a word in edgeways.

He wasn’t wrong, you guys did essentially everything together apart from have sex. Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Somewhere between moving into the studio with him and George and then your brother and Hann joining them to start recording their fifth studio album. You hadn’t shagged anyone in over a year and there was only so many times you could use your vibrator before you got bored and there wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell you were ordering a new toy to the studio because Matty didn’t have boundaries and absolutely would have opened it before you could even get the chance to get your hands on it.

You had also promised after day one; after one too many jokes and essentially mounting George at any given moment just to have him near you that you wouldn’t sleep with him. Even though a repeat of his birthday from seven years prior was literally so so temping to you! So what the hell were you going to do? The thought of dating apps made you want to vomit and hanging about bars really didn’t seem that appealing.

But Matty being Matty; was being overly affectionate one night after one too many glasses of red after a show, had the two of you giggling like teenagers and wondering if the two of you had gotten better at kissing since Matty’s 18th. Curiosity getting the better of the both of you, had you surging towards one another in a flurry of horniness after the kiss, was how you found yourself straddling his lap and snogging him like your life depended on it! Until you physically had to pull away to get your breath back and a rush of sense flashed through your brain. The two of you went to bed separately.

Neither of you spoke about it again.

Nor did you ever think about how the two of you were always drawn to each other no matter what shit storm was going on around you until now. You were just tying up the end of the UK leg of the tour, you and the band were in Ireland and Jamie had just told you that *The Scum* were running a horrendous article about Matty. This had in turn resulted in an argument after their penultimate show between the boys. 

You knew he did things in the heat of the moment whilst he’s on stage or says shit without thinking and it comes to bite him in the arse almost every time but he’d never do what they’re accusing him of on purpose.

But seeing your brother hurt by Matty’s stupid actions; the repercussions for not just himself but for the rest of the band, your brother, yourself just by association. It was enough for you to step in, in defence of your brother. He came before everyone else, every single time.

This you didn’t realise; had as big of an effect until you were stood frozen on stage in front of your brother, Matty in between you and Ross. Apologising to him, crying in front of thousands of people. How Ross hadn’t broke the facade and took him in his arms was beyond you because your brother’s face was currently blurry to you and he was stood a foot in front of you. Tears filled your brown eyes and were threatening to spill as Matty let his vulnerable side show in front of everyone. Something he never does.

You had done so well until he apologised once more; removing his hand from Ross’s arm and reaching behind him blindly to grab on to you. The tears automatically fell; the action enough to make Ross twitch in an ache to comfort you. Something he couldn’t do until the band had come off stage at the end of consumption.

After the final song of tour; the boys usually head on out for the after party. Tonight you had Matty back at the hotel in your room on his knees and begging for you. 

Begging for you to not leave him. Begging for you not to move out. Begging for you to stay by his side. Begging for you to still love him.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked down at the man in front of you; on his knees as his hands grasped at your legs, pulling you close as he hugged you as physically close as possible as he sobbed against your legs. Instinctively you reached for his curls, running your fingers through them softly.

“Baby. Look at me.” The softness of his curls tickled your thighs as he stayed pressed against you. “Matthew. Darling look at me.” 

You managed to loosen his grip enough to slide down on to your knees in front of him, taking a hold of his face in your hands as you eyes flitted across his face, smiling softly at him as he tried to calm himself down.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you.” He shook his head, curls flying in front of his face. “But I can’t lose you darling. I can’t.”

“Matthew. Look at me. Why do you think you’re going to lose me? You’re never going to lose me. You’re kinda stuck with me!” You laughed. “And even if I decided to fuck off, my brother being your bassist kind of means I’m stuck with you anyway.” The grip on his face got tighter as his hands reached up to hold on to your wrists.

“But last night…”

“Ross and I just want you to use your brain sometimes before you do stupid shit! You’ve not lost either of us. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the swell of tears in his eyes and his lip quiver.

“Life. That’s how long you’ve got me for Healy. Promise.” As soon as you stopped speaking; Matty threw himself at you, arms around your neck and squeezing you so tightly you nearly stopped breathing. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you” Being repeated in your ear over and over as you squeezed him back, pressing your lips to the side of his face in consecutive kisses until he abruptly pulled away. Eyes red and looking at you so softly you thought he was going to cry again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. You know I do.” You smiled at him warmly.

“No. It’s always been you.” He said as he reached for your hands and it felt like you had been hit in the chest. The sting of tears trickling up your face and threatening to fill your eyes as you silently took him in. You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“I know I always talk too much but just listen to me. I love you. Since we were kids I reckon, I was just too chicken to ever do anything.  When you kissed me on my 18th birthday. When you saw I needed help,  you saved my life sending me to rehab. Every day, I thought about getting home to you.  It’s what got me through every day. You make me a better man darling. When you take my shit when I don’t deserve it. When you make me a brew in the morning just how I like it. When you roll me a joint when you realise I’m too tense and in my head without me even having to ask. When you tell me to shut the fuck up before a situation escalates. When we go to big Tesco and walk the dog or do all the washing together. I fucking live for that shit because it’s with you. Fuck I’ve been writing songs about you for the past decade! You are intertwined with every era of this band sweetheart. I mean 60% of the last album is about you! ” He chuckled softly.

“What?” Managed to escape you in a gasp.

“Come on sweetheart. Some of this music has literally been out for ten years!”

“I - Just never - Why have you never said anything before now?” Your voice horse with frustration.

“I love your brother too much. But thinking I’d lost the two of you, just made me think fuck it. You deserve to know. You need to know.” Matty shrugged casually.

“That’s stupid.” Your deadpan tone, stunning him silent.

“Sorry?”

“Wasn’t it you that said to me that if Ross knew I was happy. That we were happy he wouldn’t care. He’d have gotten over it? And you’ve just subliminally been telling me you love me through music this entire time?”

“Yes?” 

You cocked an eyebrow at his hesitation, the questioning tone as your eyes flit across his handsome features. Cheeks tinged with pink due to his tears, his chest falling up and down rapidly at his confession as he awaited you answer. You still didn’t say anything, thinking about how to respond until you found the perfect response.

Surging forward you pushed your lips against Matty’s. Hands reaching for the curls you loved so much. Waiting for him to reciprocate felt like a life time but your Matthew was well equipped in the art of kissing you back so realistically it was 0.2 seconds after he had gotten over the shock.

You kissed him over and over again, not wanting to stop the feeling of how your lips moved against his, how his tongue felt against yours. You felt like you were on fire, he was intoxicating. He always was but fuck was he more than ever. Finally finding the strength to untangle yourself from him, chests heaving as you both got oxygen back in your lungs you said the words, the way he’d been wishing to hear for the past sixteen years.

“I love you too.”

When he was finally seen in public two days later on the eve of their Gorilla gig in Manchester. The fans noticed Matty was in higher spirits than he had been two days prior when his breakdown was caught on camera. You had been nervous to tell your brother but Ross claimed he already knew Matty was in love with you, he was just waiting to see if he’d actually grow some balls or not! Then he hugged you so tightly and whispered he was happy for the both of you, which in turn had you and Matty crying backstage in their green room as you found yourself in a 1975 sandwich! 

You don’t think you had seen Matty look so happy on stage in a long time. He loved touring but it was gruelling but seeing him on stage in this tiny venue with his best friends and his girl watching and waiting for him side stage. He couldn’t stop beaming. The fans noticed, the comments already flying in online about him. They increased tenfold when he jumped offstage, not waiting the ten second walk backstage before kissing you like his life depended on it.

The blurry picture of Matty holding your jaw in his hands as he kissed you in the shadows of the stage was on a 1975 update account within minutes.

Captioned: If you know you know. Finally 🖤

You were obliged to agree.

[trulybetty]

Bookstore | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 2,163 Warnings: This is Flings and Stood Up Frankie four years later, so things might be a little jaded, just saying. No real warnings, hints of some angst - but that's about it Summary: It's been multiple moves across states with Frankie and with retirement from the service the two of you are looking at a fresh start. AO3: Linked

A/N: Soo, this is Bookstore Frankie, the piece that spurred Stood Up and Flings. I've been putting off putting it out as I've been worried this won't live up to those two one-shots. We have the lovely @wildemaven’s prompts to thank for the creation of the Marcus Pike and the Sweet Janes series, and now we have them to thank for Frankie and this currently untitled series 💕✨

There was a misconception some people had when they first met Frankie. They’d take in his appearance, the permanent ball cap on his head, the nondescript clothing, heavy boots, dirt under his nails no matter how often he scrubbed his hands, coupled with his quiet demeanour and make an unqualified assumption.

Which was precisely what was happening at that moment.

“How can I help you?”  the shop clerk asked eagerly, clasping her hands together as she framed herself directly in front of you. Making no mistake who she thought led the excursion to the bookstore that morning.

“Actually,” you replied with a small smile, “I’m tagging along with this guy,” you thumbed in the direction of Frankie who had ignored the formalities you’d found yourself in and was making a beeline for the bookshelves.

“Oh,” was the shop clerk's response and you gave her a short smile before heading off to find your boyfriend who had disappeared amongst the racks of books.

Frankie was an ex-army Delta Force operative and had also served as a part of the Special Operations Aviation Regiment. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. If asked he’d simply shrug and tell those who would ask that he was just a flight instructor, a gross understatement for what he actually did now, but as Frankie told you. It kept things simple, and it kept people from asking questions.

The only reason you knew anything at all about Frankie’s military career is that what was supposed to be a fling between deployments turned into a four-year-long sleepover, three moves across states and his retirement from active service.

But it wasn’t just in bookstores, it was everywhere. Whenever the two of you went out, most people would underestimate him or simply overlook him. To them, Frankie was just an ordinary man, nothing special about him.

But to you, he was everything

As you made your way through the narrow aisles of the bookstore, you finally caught up with him as he held a book in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read the blurb on the back.

“Find anything good?” you whispered as you came up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist to peer around his shoulder.

Frankie held up the book for you to see, “Dean Koontz,” he said with a smile of satisfaction. “I’ve been wanting to read this one for a while now.”

You nodded, recalling his recent phase of reading through the author’s works.

“What else do you have there?” You asked, indicating the book tucked under his arm.

He didn’t look down, his eyes reading the back of another novel now, “Just some manual.”

You raised your eyebrow, “Just some manual?”

Letting go of him you slid the book out from under his arm and inspected the cover, “Advanced Aerodynamics and Propulsion: A Comprehensive Guide,” you read aloud, your voice echoing a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Just some manual, huh? A bit beyond your usual fun reads?”

Frankie shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thought I’d brush up a bit before that course starts. It's been a while since I played with the hardcore stuff, and you know how I like a challenge,” his eyes now had a mischievous glint. “Got to keep up with the younger crowd at school. Don't want to let my old age show too much,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

The bookstore, aptly named ‘The Last Book Store’ was nestled between a florist and a coffee shop in downtown Tampa. The store was a captivating blend of weathered leather-bound classics and the vibrant hues of freshly printed paperbacks. The lingering smell of paper coupled with the scent of the fresh roast from the coffee shop next door made it all the more charming. You made a mental note that you would stop there on your way home since you still had yet to find your coffee maker in the labyrinth of boxes since moving to Florida. You were desperate for a freshly brewed cup of coffee and not something made from instant freeze-dried grounds.

“You're hardly old,” you retorted, playfully poking him in the ribs.

He laughed, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. “Says the spring chicken.”

You rolled your eyes, barely a year between you, but couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. 

“Are you excited about returning to school?” you asked, he was going back after a long stint in the military.

Frankie's expression shifted, his eyes distant as he confided, “Yeah, excited but also a bit anxious. It's been ages since I tackled papers and exams.”

You offered a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “No doubt you'll ace it. You've got some smarts in there,” you quipped, a playful grin easing the tension. “And plenty of experience too.”

He laughed, appreciation in his eyes. “Some brains hey Mav? I didn't know you thought so highly of me.”

“Well, I have to give credit where credit's due,” you said, shrugging playfully.

He looked at you a moment longer before leaning in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, and for a brief moment, there was only the two of you, between the bookshelves hidden from the view of the other customers.

“Do you think we made a good choice moving to Florida,” you asked.

Frankie nodded, his mouth turning up in an expression that resembled a smile, though it never touched his eyes. “I think so. A new chapter for both of us.”

“Is that Francisco Morales with a pun?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes brightening.

“Remember that bookstore we used to visit back in Colorado?” you asked, your voice heavy with nostalgia.

Frankie looked at you, his eyes softening as he remembered. “The one with the creaky floors and the old guy who knew every single book in the place?”

“That’s the one,” you said, smiling. “This place reminds me a little of that.”

Frankie reached for you hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, “We can make this our new spot. Start a new tradition.”

“You think this is it?” you asked him hopefully.

Frankie gave a half smile, “I hope so, baby. We've been through enough, it's time to settle down.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell with emotion. The journey to where you stood now had not been an easy one, with Frankie's past and the constant moves between deployments. But here you were, together, looking forward to a future you could both finally believe in. 

This was a fresh start.

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. “We'll make it work. We always do.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the determination and the underlying vulnerability that he so rarely showed to others. You knew him better than anyone, and most of all, his potential.

You reached up and cupped his cheek, feeling the stubble against your palm, you bit back a smile. No matter how hard he tried he could never grow in a full beard. Only the other day, when Will came by after his veteran support group had finished. The two men had sat on the porch, beers in hand, Will teasing Frankie as he stroked his own full beard. 

Will was already living in Florida, part of the catalyst for this one last move as Frankie had promised you. That promise had come off of the back of the trouble Frankie had found himself involved in. The trouble that you’d both agreed on was now put to rest and in the past. Will, having served with Frankie as a part of Delta Force, he and the others were a special kind of elite. The creme de la creme, all forged for war and set loose with little to no regard for what would happen once they were back home. Will had been a somewhat lifeline for Frankie in retirement, his quiet demeanour a match for Frankies.

“I know we will,” you whispered, echoing Frankie's assurance, your eyes locked on his. “We're in this together, right?”

Frankie's eyes softened, and he nodded, his grip on you tightening. “Always.”

You both pottered around the bookstore for a little while longer. The building was deceptive from the outside it looked to be a small affair, but the place was expansive with rows and rows of racks and a second floor. Frankie had found another book to add to his stack and you a couple of paperbacks that were light reads to get you through the next couple of weeks.

The two of you watched the rain fall from under the awning of the coffee shop next door. A gentle drizzle combined with the humidity, you could smell the heat coming off the asphalt. 

“It seems like Florida wants to give us a proper welcome,” Frankie remarked.

You laughed as you stashed your purchases into the canvas bag you'd brought with you to keep them safe from the rain, “Very reminiscent.” 

Grabbing your hand, Frankie stepped forward, out from undercover into the rain.

You thought you were both going to make a dash to the car, instead, Frankie stopped and turned his face up to the sky. Before you could ask what was going on you saw the carefree smile tugging at his lips and he looked at peace for the first time in what had been a long time.

“You know Mav,” he said, his face still upturned to the sky, “they say rain is good luck.”

You laughed, shaking your head as droplets clung to your lashes, “Is that so?” you stepped back to close the distance between you both, your fingers reaching out to trace the outline of his jaw.

His hand finding a place on the curve of your cheek and the other around your waist, he moved closer, his lips barely a breath away from your own. Your heart skipped a beat, his touch sent a shiver down your spine despite the warmth the rain fell into. 

“It’s really going to be different this time, I promise,” he stated, looking at you directly in the eye.

“I know,” you responded forcing a smile, really wanting to believe that this was going to be the fresh start the two of you needed. 

Retirement was a bright horizon ahead for both of you full of opportunities. You just hoped it was a bright enough light to stave off the dark clouds that had followed through your last moves across states.

You didn’t think he could get any closer, but he shifted and his hips knocked into you forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he pulled you into a playful twirl. The rain soaked through your clothes, and the drops glistened on his face, highlighting the joy in his eyes. 

The world seemed to fade away as you both danced in the rain, your laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet street.

“Here’s to us, Mav,” Frankie said, leaning in to gently kiss your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips found yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The rain intensified the sensation, each raindrop a fleeting caress as you melted into his embrace. It was a kiss that held the promise of everything that had brought you together – the challenges, the laughter, and the shared moments that had forged your connection.

As the kiss deepened, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the midst of the rainstorm. His fingers traced a gentle path down your back, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, rain-slicked hair clinging to your skin.

Frankie's gaze bore into yours, his expression a mix of desire and adoration. “I think I've found my luck,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your damp lips.

As you headed back to the car, the rain began to ease, and the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a warm glow on the wet pavement. You glanced at Frankie, noticing the way he seemed more relaxed, the weight of the past years lifting. You could see it in the way he walked, in the way he smiled, and in the way he held you close.

Yes, you thought, this was the right decision. Florida would be your new start, a place to finally settle and grow roots. No more constant moving, no more uncertainty. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

You slid into the passenger seat, Frankie starting the engine, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours. You looked over at him, his face lit with anticipation and hope of what was to come.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

If you want to see what the GOP has in store for the rest of America, visit the Old South

Thom Hartmann

June 27, 2024 5:42AM ET

Photo by Miltiadis Fragkidis on Unsplash

Today is the first Biden-Trump debate and many Americans are wondering how each will articulate their ideas for the future of America.

Republicans have a very specific economic vision for the future of our country, although they rarely talk about it in plain language: they want to make the rest of America look and function just like Mississippi. Including the racism: that’s a feature, not a bug.

It’s called the “Southern Economic Development Model” (SEDM) and has been at the core of GOP economic strategy ever since the days of Ronald Reagan. While they don’t use those words to describe their plan, and neither did the authors of Project 2025, this model is foundational to conservative economic theory and has been since the days of slavery.

The SEDM explicitly works to:

— Maintain a permanent economic underclass of people living on the edge of poverty, — Rigidify racial and gender barriers to class mobility to lock in women and people of color, — Provide a low-cost labor force to employers,

— Prevent unions or any other advocates for workers’ rights to function, — Shift the tax burden to the working poor and what’s left of the middle class while keeping taxes on the morbidly rich extremely low, — Protect the privileges, power, and wealth of the (mostly white and male) economic overclass, — Ghettoize public education and raise the cost of college to make social and economic mobility difficult, — Empower and subsidize churches to take over public welfare functions like food, housing, and care for indigent people, — Allow corporations to increase profits by dumping their waste products into the air and water, — Subsidize those industries that financially support the political power structure, and, — Heavily use actual slave labor.

For hardcore policy wonks, the Economic Policy Institute(EPI) did a deep dive into the SEDM last month: here’s how it works in summary.

Republicans claim that by offering low-cost non-union labor and little to no regulatory oversight to massive corporations, they’re able to “attract business to the region.” This, they promise, will cause (paraphrasing President Kennedy out of context) “a rising tide that lifts all boats.”

Somehow, though, the only people who own boats that rise are those of the business owners and senior executives. The permanent economic underclass is key to maintaining this system with its roots in the old plantation system; that’s why Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, Tennessee, and South Carolina have no minimum wage, Georgia’s is $5.15/hour, and most other GOP states use the federal minimum wage of $7.25/hour and $2.13/hour for tipped workers.

It’s thus no coincidence that ten out of the 20 Republican-run states that only use the federal minimum wage are in the Old South.

Anti-union or “right to work for less” efforts and laws are another key to the SEDM; the failed unionization effort last month at the Alabama Mercedes factory was a key victory for the GOP. Unions, after all, balance the power relationship between management and workers; promote higher wages and benefits; support workplace and product safety regulations; advance racial and gender equality; boost social mobility; and have historically been the most effective force for creating a healthy middle class.

Unionization, however, is antithetical to creating and maintaining a permanent economic underclass, which is why, as EPI notes, “while union coverage rates stand at 11.2% nationally, rates in 2023 were as low as 3.0% in South Carolina, 3.3% in North Carolina, 5.2% in Louisiana, and 5.4% in Texas and Georgia.”

Unions also make wage theft more difficult, essentially forcing government to defend workers who’ve been ripped off by their employers. That’s why Florida doesn’t even have a Department of Labor (it was dismantled by Republican Governor Jeb Bush in 2002), and the DOLs in Alabama, Delaware, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and South Carolina no longer bother to enforce wage theft laws or recover stolen money for workers.

Another key to the SEDM is to end regulation of corporate “externalities,” a fancy word for the pollution that most governments in the developed world require corporations to pay to prevent or clean up. “Cancer Alley” is probably the most famous example of this at work: that stretch from west Texas to New Orleans has more than 200 refineries and chemical plants pouring poison into the air resulting in downwind communities having a 7 to 21 times greater exposure to these substances. And high rates of cancer: Southern corporate profits are boosted by sick people.

Between 2008 and 2018, EPI documents, funding for state environmental agencies was “cut [in Texas and Louisiana] by 35.2% and 34.8% respectively.… Funding was down by 33.7% in North Carolina, 32.8% in Delaware, 20.8% in Georgia, 20.3% in Tennessee, and 10% in Alabama.”

To keep income taxes low on the very wealthy, the SEDM calls for shifting as much of the taxpaying responsibility away from high-income individuals and dumping it instead on the working poor and middle class. This is done by either ending or gutting the income tax (Texas, Florida, and Tennessee have no income tax) and shifting to sales tax, property taxes, fees, and fines.

Nationally, for example, sales taxes provide 34.4% of state and local revenue, but in the SEDM states that burden is radically shifted to consumers: Tennessee, for example, gets 56.6% of their revenue from sales tax, Louisiana 53.3%, Florida 50.9%, Arkansas 49.6%, Alabama 48%, and Mississippi 45.5%. Fees for registering cars, obtaining drivers’ and professional licenses, tolls, traffic and other fines, and permits for home improvements all add to the load carried by average working people.

Republicans argue that keeping taxes low on “job creators” encourages them to “create more jobs,” but that old canard hasn’t really been taken seriously by anybody since Reagan first rolled it out in 1981. It does work to fill their money bins, though, and helps cover the cost of their (tax deductible) private jets, clubs, and yachts.

Another way the SEDM maintains a low-wage workforce is by preventing young people from getting the kind of good education that would enable them to move up and out of their economic and social class. Voucher systems to gut public education, villainization of unionized teachers and librarians, and increasing college tuition all work together to maintain high levels of functional illiteracy. Fifty-four percent of Americans have a literacy rate that doesn’t exceed sixth grade, with the nation’s worst illiteracy mostly in the Old South.

Imposing this limitation against economic mobility on women is also vital to the SEDM. Southern states are famous for their lack of female representation in state legislatures (West Virginia 13%, Tennessee 14%, Mississippi and South Carolina 15%, Alabama and Louisiana 18%), and the states that have most aggressively limited access to abortion and reproductive healthcare (designed to keep women out of the workplace and dependent on men) are entirely Republican-controlled.

Perhaps the most important part of the SEDM pushed by Republicans and Project 2025 is gutting the social safety net. Wealthy rightwingers have complained since FDR’s New Deal of the 1930s that transferring wealth from them to poor and middle-class people is socialism, the first step toward a complete communist tyranny in the United States. It’s an article of faith for today’s GOP.

Weekly unemployment benefits, for example, are lowest in “Mississippi ($235), Alabama ($275), Florida ($275), Louisiana ($275), Tennessee ($275), South Carolina ($326), and North Carolina ($350)” with Southern states setting the maximum number of weeks you can draw benefits at 12 in Florida, North Carolina, and Kentucky, 14 in Alabama and Georgia, and a mere 16 weeks in Oklahoma and Arkansas.

While only 3.3% of children in the Northeast lack health insurance, for the Southern states that number more than doubles to 7.7%. Ten states using the SEDM still refuse to expand Medicaid to cover all state residents living and working in poverty, including Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, Florida, Tennessee, and Texas.

The main benefit to employers of this weak social safety net is that workers are increasingly desperate for wages — any sort of wages — and even the paltriest of benefits to keep their heads above water economically. As a result, they’re far more likely to tolerate exploitative workplace conditions, underpaid work, and wage theft.

Finally, the SEDM makes aggressive use of the 13th Amendment’s legalization of slavery. That’s not a metaphor: the Amendment says, “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” [emphasis added]

That “except as punishment for crime” is the key. While Iceland’s and Japan’s incarceration rates are 36 for every 100,000 people, Finland and Norway come in at 51, Ireland and Canada at 88, there are 664 people in prison in America for every 100,000 people. No other developed country even comes close, because no other developed country also allows legalized slavery under color of law.

Fully 800,000 (out of a total 1.2 million prisoners) Americans are currently held in conditions of slave labor in American jails and prisons, most working for private prison corporations that profitably insource work and unfairly compete against normal American companies. Particularly in the South, this workforce is largely Black and Hispanic.

As the ACLU documented for the EPI, “The vast majority of work done by prisoners in Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas is unpaid.” Literal slave labor, in other words. It’s a international scandal, but it’s also an important part of this development model that was, after all, first grounded in chattel slavery.

The Christian white supremacist roots of the SEDM worldview are best summed up by the lobbyist and head of the Southern Committee to Uphold the Constitution, Vance Muse — the inventor of the modern “right to work for less” model and advocate for the Southern Economic Development Model — who famously proclaimed in 1944, just days after Arkansas and Florida became the first states to adopt his anti-union legislation, that it was all about keeping Blacks and Jews in their places to protect the power and privileges of wealthy white people.

So, if you want to see what Republicans have in mind for the rest of America if Trump or another Republican becomes president and they can hold onto Congress, just visit the Old South. Or, as today’s MAGA GOP would call it, “the New Model.”

[markantonys]

Is it bad that I sometimes wish other characters had access to book!Min's internal monologue so they could bully her a little? Nynaeve would be like if you think of Rand ONE MORE TIME I'll box your ears.

It's amazing how much more of an impact she and her visions have had already on the plot in the show vs the book, despite not having a shitton of screen time.

that would be INCREDIBLE lmao!!! nynaeve would box her ears into next week. egwene would hardcore judge her Pick-Me attitude and utter lack of self-respect. rand would be unnerved to discover just how calculated her plots to manipulate him into loving her are. elayne and aviendha would have major second thoughts about welcoming her into the polycule upon hearing all her "ugh it's not FAIR that i have to share him! he CLAIMS to love all of us, but i wonder which one he ACTUALLY loves the most and will pick in the end, hopefully me" thoughts. (though actually, aviendha was extremely unenthused about min all along and only agreed to let her join for rand's and elayne's sakes, so she would just be like "see? i told you so".)

and that's very true about the show vs. books! in the books, min's viewings are either a) completely ignored and shrugged at, and thus serve no narrative purpose or b) used as Hand Of Author to force characters into storylines RJ wants to do but knows are contrary to the characters' natural inclinations and doesn't want to put in the effort of making them grow to be naturally inclined to do it. so he uses "min says it's inevitable so i guess i'll just do it even though i don't want to" as a shortcut.

and a lot of this is due to the fact that before the series even starts, min has already fully come to terms with her abilities and resigned herself to the fact that her viewings are always inevitable and nothing can be done about them ever. and like, yeah it makes sense she'd feel that way if she's been living with this since she was a kid, but it doesn't make for an interesting character. the show's approach of giving her a bit of resistance along with the resignation and taking her struggle with coming to terms and moving it onscreen as part of her series character arc instead of limiting it to a backstory arc that's over and done with by the time we meet her - it retains the fact that her viewings are inevitable, but gives her some agency, which is an extremely important thing for a character with this ability because it's so easy for them to fall into the role of "writer's mouthpiece who's just there to spout inevitable prophecies no one bothers trying to do anything about and who thus doesn't impact the story".

for example, min persuading mat to stay away from rand so as not to stab him being the very thing that leads to him stabbing rand (if he'd gone with him to falme as planned, he wouldn't have ended up in the position in which he accidentally stabbed him) is much more interesting and narratively impactful than her going "hey, you're going to stab rand and there's nothing you can do about it, so don't bother trying to change your plans or behavior in any way" and mat going "okay, i don't WANT to stab rand but min says i will, so i guess i'll start sharpening my knife and stab him on purpose next time i see him to get it over with" lmao. characters deliberately making prophecies come true IS really interesting when it comes to fulfilling prophecies related to the dragon reborn and the last battle and such, but that approach doesn't really work for me when it comes to more personal prophecies (especially ones they don't even want to come true, like min & especially mat deliberately trying to fulfill their love/marriage prophecies that they don't even want to happen).

(and on the note of increased agency, we need more flickering viewings!!!! it's incredibly sexy of gawyn to be the only person in all of WOT unpredictable enough that not even the pattern knows what path he'll go down, but since flickering viewings were established as a thing, they should have been used more often to introduce a much-needed element of uncertainty into min's viewings to keep us and her and the other characters on our toes.)

the show also makes min a much more dynamic, complex, and emotionally realistic character by focusing on the emotional burden of her abilities. for example, in the books she says that in the past her interpersonal relationships have suffered because of her viewings, but onscreen we only ever see her being honored and revered by every single person and culture she comes into contact with; in the show, we see liandrin & ishy use her feelings about her abilities to manipulate her, we see her blackmailed by moiraine and used by her aunts, and we see her lose her friendship with mat in part because of her viewings. we also see how much emotional agony knowing that mat will stab his bestie puts her in, whereas in the books she just kinda goes "oh no! anyway" every time she has a sad viewing.

also, the show is being much more economical with her viewings, which helps! in the books, she has tons of viewings constantly about major plot points and minor ones and everything in between, about things that will happen in 5 minutes or at the end of the book or not for 10 more books. but in the show, maybe min is still having tons of viewings we aren't privy to, but they are choosing to reveal to us only a select few viewings that either will be fulfilled in the current season (mat stabbing rand, rand holding baby joiya) or are vague enough & about central enough future plot points (perrin's wolf abilities, the white flame & ring of gold for the girls) that including them does not risk the show boxing itself in down the line by prophesizing too-specific things too far in advance.

and it's smart that our only hint of the polycule viewing so far is her brief line about "3 beautiful women" in rand's future which was played as a joke, because this gives the writers flexibility (they don't all 3 have to be his endgame romances, just beautiful women who are important to his future, so they could pass off lanfear and/or egwene as having been some of the Beautiful Women if they get fewer seasons than planned and only have time to get rand with 1 or 2 of his endgame partners). and it also gives the CHARACTERS flexibility by allowing 3/4 of the polycule to come together organically and because they want to, vs. the books where RJ uses the viewing as a tool to force the 3 girls to agree to share rand instead of putting in the work to make them come to feel this way organically (thinking more of elayne & min and especially avi & min here; elayne & avi do put in the work with each other to come to feel this way organically, but the viewing is used to let min be an exception and not have to put in the same work they do).

in the show, if min knows the polycule is fated but keeps it to herself until after it's all come to pass, that will maintain her could-have-been-interesting emotional dilemma of knowing her own romantic fate while removing the elements of her coming off as manipulative by deliberately using her viewing to finagle herself into rand's bed and bully elayne & avi into being okay with it. of course, we don't yet know for sure that min WILL keep the viewing to herself until afterwards, but show!min is WAY better at not meddling in other people's business than book!min, so i have a good feeling about it! my ideal would be, no peep about the viewing until the season in which she'll get with rand, and at the beginning of that season she discusses the viewing with a neutral third party (like mat or nynaeve or egwene). this way, the audience is let in on her internal struggle just in time but not too far in advance, and min comes off as more respectful and considerate if she's discussing it with people who are NOT elayne, avi, or rand.

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

This week I have mostly been reading...

May 27th – Jun 2nd, 2024

This week has mostly been taken up by reading the behemoth that is Rough Enough…AND I finished my WIP – all details below. It’s been a week.

Completed works I've read this week:

Rough Enough For Love by Nekhen Rated E – A GO Human AU classic. It’s *extremely* E rated, so pass it up if that’s not your thing – the NSFW isn’t skippable. It’s an absolute BEAST at 403,339 words over 42 chapters and took me most of the week to read but I was HOOKED. It’s a D/s themed story, but atypical and beautifully written. There is so much beautiful vulnerability and the most achingly gorgeous CARE ever written. Also major, hardcore Pining™️ & ©️Yearning. I’ve got some experience in D/s spheres and thought I had my preferences iron-clad in my head and this story has managed to turn EVERYTHING on its head, or at least it's given me a lot to think about. This is one of those fics which will stick with me. As someone with family-related trauma, I’d add a content warning for family judgement/feelings of severe inferiority due to family trauma.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley Rated T – This was on my WIP list but has now been completed - *sniffle*. Astronaut A is guided back to Earth by controller C after 92 years in space. There are many difficulties both of them have to face and they develop an amazing rapport. Ch 17/17 posted this week.

WIPs which have updated this week (which I devour as soon as I get the update!)

There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out by @phoen1xr0se Rated M - A is a researcher (puffins!), C is a lighthouse keeper on the island where A has run away to to escape his problems and do his research. The author has recently spent a week studying puffins - which is the ultimate dedication, if you ask me. Ch 9/26 posted this week

Find The Light by @klikandtuna Rated E - Headmaster A and Rockstar C. The story teases out a fraught history between them whilst keeping a tension between them in the modern day. Ch 8/? posted this week.

Oddity by @tsyvia48 Rated E - Actor C is contracted by (useless) Gabriel to guest curate an exhibition at the museum where A works. After getting off on the wrong foot, can they work together to pull off this show? Ch 24/26 posted this week

Under The Summer Stars by @pannotbread Rated E - This wonderful fic has taught me more about physics than school ever did (mostly because I never did any physics, but...well). A & C have to share their time at an observatory because there is Only One Telescope. Not only will you learn about astrophysics, astrobiology, and astroecology, you'll also read some of the most poetically, beautifully written masturbation scenes I've ever seen. *ahem* Ch 8/13 posted this week.

Exodus_2 by @tismrot Rated E – Human AU set in a dystopian future. The summary says it best, really: Ezra studies programming at the University of ha-Gan. He’s as determined as he is damaged, as fastidious as he is precise, and likes to believe he'll stop at nothing to achieve his goals. His beliefs are challenged when a new student appears late to the first Ethics module lecture - and his life is changed forever. It's the future, it's dystopian, it's cyber and it's punk. It's political, grimy and slick with tears, lube and chemical snot. TW: Sex, drugs, trauma. Ch 30/35 posted this week.

Free by well, me: imposterssyndrome Rated E - A & C meet (again?) in an acute mental health ward after both having had mental health crises. A runs a bookshop but is very much under his parents' control. C has been homeless since childhood and has struggled his entire life. They do not trust each other when they first meet, but feel strangely drawn to one another all the same. Where will this lead them? This is a passion piece for me. There is a lot of lived experience in it, and extensive research from both professionals and peers. It has been a real journey for me to write it, and as I'm coming closer to the end it's becoming very emotional for me. Ch 48/56 posted this week – I officially finished writing this this week! I’m updating more frequently now, although I still have to proof & edit each chapter before I publish it.

Want more recommendations? This is last week's list.

[emmg]

Serious Writing Can Go Eat Ass: A Memoir

As someone who professionally churns out words for the academic circle jerk—a place where people basically worship the Chicago Manual of Style—it feels like there's this massive disdain, or maybe more like unfiltered contempt, for anything resembling fun in writing. Want to spice up an article with some personality? Throw in a funny quote? Craft a clever phrase that might break the mind-numbing monotony? Well, too bad. It will be swiftly dismissed and frowned upon by "peers" who clutch their red pens like they’re about to perform a literary exorcism.

This disdain doesn’t just stop at academic writing either. Oh no, it follows you into your creative life, like a clingy ex, making you feel guilty for producing anything outside the suffocating realm of “serious” content. You want to write something a little frivolous? Maybe funny? Maybe smutty? Maybe just angsty trash? Well, you better remember that it's not "serious" writing, and thus, has no worth. Or maybe you’ll hear that professor's voice in your head, the one who scrawled passive-aggressive margin notes admonishing you for taking a single, harmless stylistic risk. And just like that, it becomes second nature to hate or feel embarrassed by whatever you produce for fun.

Don’t get me wrong, I love academia. I’ve worked as a model since my early teens, which means I’ve spent most of my life living in a constant state of disconnection—always moving, always on the outside looking in. So, I turned inward, and I read. And read. And read some more. I learned and absorbed everything I could. When I finally made it to university and discovered this obsessive, laser-focused intellectual pursuit—complete with professors who actually encouraged my hyperfixation—it was like stepping into nerd heaven. The research, the archives, the thrill of translating that one obscure quote, the victory of pestering some librarian across the country for months and finally getting access to those oral histories—it’s exhilarating. I’m addicted.

But man, does this “serious” environment suck the joy out of anything that isn’t deemed important or intellectual. It’s fantastic at making you feel ashamed for enjoying "lesser" forms of creativity.

In this essay I will—no, but seriously, let me just give you my Ted Talk on how traditional writing conventions can absolutely, 100% eat ass. Maybe quite literally. They drain all the enjoyment out of writing. I love writing, but I hate looking at what I produce because of it.

On the flip side, I absolutely love the time we’re living in. Thank God for AO3. I adore fanfiction. I love that there’s no joy-sucking overlord policing my words when I get lost in a fandom and write purely for the fun of it. That’s true freedom.

This is exactly why I'm so hardcore about the whole comments/kudos culture. I will absolutely drown anyone who graciously shares their work with the world in praise. Why? Because I freaking love what they create, and I refuse to let anyone feel the way I do—like their creativity doesn’t matter. So yes, thank you, bless you, saint you, for sharing your fanfiction. I will devour every word, and then I’ll devour you, dear author, in an avalanche of gratitude. Keep writing, or I swear, I'll find you and flood your inbox with even more love.

I really wish my professional life hadn’t done such an impressive job of absolutely wrecking my self-esteem when it comes to personal writing. I don’t even give a second glance at what I toss out into the world anymore. Just yeet it into the depths of AO3 and forget it ever existed. Notifications? Turned off. Comments? Oh, I’m far too mortified to respond—though I make a half-hearted attempt sometimes. It’s that weird feeling of being undeserving, or embarrassed, or something equally stupid.

I don’t even know if I’m alone in this feeling. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. It’s just a random slice of my thoughts. I’m 28, I shouldn’t feel like I have to hate my creative side for not being “serious.” I’m too young to be this bitter about what I create. Not that there’s an age limit on this kind of existential dread. Anyway, thanks for coming to my impromptu mental breakdown. Peace.

[365runesoftheamalgamations]

The Not Yet Forgotten Introduction

hello and how are you?

This has been far too long since we have been active and we've wanted to get back into the flow of things! And we believe it is time for a Reintroduction! So, without further ado,

A Proper Introduction

Welcome to the Writing Blog! We are the Not Yet Dead Authors, the Natsume Rune! You may refer to us as Natsume as a whole, or say hi to any of the specifics who run the blog/do the writes! Our pronouns are we/they, and we are an aromantic/asexual genderfluid cluster of whispers drowning in the Void for more than two decades. So just another set of Wanderers who wish to reach out and touch the Worlds in a more pronounced way!

Full Writeblr Introduction under the cut!

Getting To Know Us

We are most comfortable writing and conversing in italics! It just feels like it speaks with our souls, so please be aware that most of the posts and such will be within that realm of writing.

Our most comfortable sense of writing is in third person present tense! We also write in first person (sometimes) and second person (rarely) but our comfort lies in others and their present.

We write mostly fantasy but also dabble in horror, science fiction, dystopian and other works and writing styles. We do hold our own universe, the Storyverse, that we will hint, note, and talk about, depending on things, as well as a multitude of Worlds that will be given over to the Stories happening within in. Hardcore about both worldbuilding and storytelling, so we will probably have a lot to say about both the Worlds and Stories that come with our hyperfixations.

Our writing forms include: fanfiction, short stories, drabbles, flash fiction, novels, poems, and role playing! We enjoy rolling through forms and trying out different ways of telling and sharing stories, so please note that there will be a lot of everything on here.

We follow from the System's Blog, @365runesofthesystem, and will try to be really active in the community, so if you see us around, then feel free to indulge us! We love to be tagged in games and sent asks and the like and will try to get to all of them in due time. [ yes, we do hoard Tag Games, shut the fuck up about it. ]

If there is anything else anyone would like to know, do not hesitate to ask or message us! But be aware that we are not afraid to deal with anything impolite or inappropriate, we have a zero tolerance standard and we will keep it without hesitation.

The Amalgamations of our Creations

We have a lot - and yes, we mean a fuck ton - of Works and Stories that we want to tell at some point in our lives, so this list will definitely grow and expand and shift as we go through our journey.

If you want a full list of all of our Works, check our both our Original Works Masterlist and our Fanworks Masterlist!

All Links to WIP Pages and Intro Posts will be added as we get things sorted and settled!

But here are a few of our more pronounced Works, [ yes, they can and will probably shift and change. No they are not in any particular order, we hate figuring out orders. ]

Grayland's Shadow

Original Work | Fiction, Low Fantasy, Horror Elements First, Second, Third Person | Second Drafts

Ecstasy. The screaming, the struggling, the pleas for mercy, he loved them all. He loved the way they always seemed to think that he would set them free. That, if they were good and tried hard enough, he would just let them live, bleeding and knowing. As if he would ever let anyone go. He never did. He never wasted an opportunity either. So when a girl, around her way into adulthood, sat down next to him on the bench that day, he had no intention of letting her go. None.

Constellations By Orion

Original Work | Fiction, High Fantasy, Action and Adventure Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting/Worldbuilding

Orion is the first one she goes for, as he always points North. "I am just saying, your little stowaway is pretty cute." "I don't need a man Orion, I need directions across the sea." "Trust me, if you want a purpose, you should find Ursa Major. She's the guide of adventure, new life." "And where can I find her?" "At the heart of the ocean. She is the Guardian of Polaris and her baby, Ursa Minor."

The Queen & The Heir

Short Story | Fiction, High Fantasy, Medival Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting/Prompt Response

She hates herself for hesitating. She stares at the note, gentle cream instead of stark white in order to hold the same connotations of the maid notes that she, and more importantly he, was accustomed to seeing. She glances at the Guard, barely catches the door closing completely, locking her in with the words that would prove herself justified. Or truly and quietly mad.

The Rapunzel Witch

Short Stories | Fiction, High Fantasy, Fairytale Retellings, LGBTQIA+ Third Person Present Tense | Chapter/Scene Drafting

Vibrant and sharp, it is another small check to his identity; the Queen is staring at him, though instead of the hard determination of a leader, he stands before the soft gentleness of a person unused to such direct contact. Something shifts in those eyes; the Royal Majesty frowns more before he lets his eyes drop to the ground between them. “Well, that’s that then, isn’t it?” The Knight feels a soft pang; he almost takes a step forward, hand twitching at his side before the Royal spins around and walks away from him. “Your obligations are fulfilled; the Rapunzel Witch lives.”

The Plague Begins With Me

Original Work | Dystopian, Horror Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting

Lost to the devastation of the Plague and destroyed by the aftermath of Humanity’s Fall, the World of Zeomia holds nothing but the dystopian devastation of disease and decay. Shouldering a responsibility that no one else is allowed to know, Zero tries to give mercy to those who have fallen from her own twisted fate.

Main Tags of the Blog

rune ⊹ writings | general writing tag rune ⊹ works in progress | where you can find all of our works rune ⊹ wanderlust | general tag for other blogs rune ⊹ nonsense | fun and silly things outside of the writings/writeblr rune ⊹ beloved | general tag for the mutuals of the writeblr rune ⊹ asks | tag for answering asks and anything from the inbox rune ⊹ authors | writing updates and softer thoughts of us rune ⊹ background noise | anything to do with the blog

[kustas]

obligatory disclaimer of “i read this two years ago and cringed so hard throughout i blanked most of it from my mind” therefore don’t remember much details

from what i remember: it’s a mass of easy clichés that does nothing well.

nothing, NOTHING stuck out to me in monstress from the story to the artwork, and the litte merit i fought to find was stuff i had seen better executed in other places. the only two things i remember liking was some character designs (especially female characters) and the overall aesthetics of the fantasy art of the world. for the first: while a few had memorable designs, the mass felt like faux-anime prettyfaced potatoes with too complex outfits. reminded me of final fantasy MMO characters and i mean this in a derogatory way, where the only design elements characters are allowed to have are so kewl flourishes on an instagram model base. regarding the art, i gotta put a nerd hat on for this but i mean the direction taken for in-universe art forms and styles and the cultures and context around them. i remember little cultural variance but the artwork itself, if not that original, had the merit of trying instead of stealing RL artwork like most fantasy series are content to do. unfortunately as these are my opinions i happen to find it kind of ugly.

as for the art, in general. BOY is it bad - i know it’s a webcomic and have respect for that and how intricate the artwork is for such a format but I also do think it looks like ass. too much complexity with little regard for hierachisation of buisiness for readability purposes. the volumes are disastrous where characters have little shapes especially in difficult angles. this i would not care for had the artist not went for half assed realism. a potato face can look great but not if you try shading it realistically. and realistic shading often has to be polished if you want it to be readable.

plot wise: things sure were happening in the most boring way possible. “protagonist possessed by a sort of monster god thing” is as tropey as can be, the political going-ons and emotional drama i did not find a way to give a shit about because you did not spend enough time knowing about the world in a meaningful way to understand its politics (or care), and no characters were endearing. layers upon layers of the pointless shock and sad violins my meanest brain pieces imagine is what bad angst fanfic reads like.

it’s just bad!!! everything about it felt edgy and amateur.

i’ve read enough weird, wild & touching comics to know how hard they can hit even ones rougher around the edges and have so much love and respect for them as an art form but monstress promised little from it’s premise and delivered even less. maybe i’m not the target audience but who even is? it has the maturity and edge of something for older children but too much graphic content for that especially given how harsh US publishing is with sex. it’s too complex for casual fans and imo too shallow for hardcore fantasy nerds. i don’t want to say this because i’ve met people I know who liked it who have wild culture and are smarter than I am but had I not I’d have told you “monstress has fans because a lot of people have not read good comic books in their life”.

found some live texting i had while reading it with an equally hateresque friend who is a comic author themself and who’s name i gracefully have censored.

worst comic book i’ve read ever for real

[strangledeggs]

Not to be the guy who reviews Pitchfork reviews, but...

This Pitchfork review of that Måneskin album is pretty funny - I haven’t listened to it in-depth, but from what I heard of it playing in another room at one point, it sounds pretty bad!

That being said, this following snippet bothers me greatly because of its extreme inattention to history:

The issue is that, about a decade ago, around the dawn of the streaming era, “alternative” as we knew it went extinct. Consuming music on streaming services made music a multiversal event, a mass conversion of listening to everything, everywhere, all at once. Genres became siloed, withering on the outside and thriving on the inside. Måneskin’s “Beggin’” ascending the upper reaches of the Billboard charts was not a cultural reaction to anything, it was just an anomaly. It is content without meaning.

On what authority does the writer claim this? Because almost all of it seems simply false. Let’s break down the claims:

1. “Alternative music” no longer exists as a coherent label.

2. The historical reason behind this former claim is due to the advent of streaming, which meant that people started listening to music outside of the bounds of genres they had previously liked in the past.

3. Måneskin’s success is not a reaction to anything cultural and cannot be compared to the way that the “true, original alternative music” was a reaction to mainstream culture.

All three of these are blatantly untrue and should be obviously so if you 1) lived through the time period the writer notes in the past and 2) are still paying attention to popular tastes. For those who don’t fit those former descriptors, I’ll try and give a brief refutation of the claims here:

1. Alternative music has never really existed as a coherent label! This is because alternative music is a weirdly contextual thing - it is defined by anything that actively pushes against “mainstream” tastes in some way, and that is a dynamic that’s ever-changing. Case in point: at one time, R.E.M. and Nirvana were “alternative” rock because they sounded unlike anything that was played on rock radio at that point and their sounds were different forms of reactions against that mainstream radio-rock; nowadays, Nirvana and R.E.M. are some of the most influential bands of the 90s and there are whole radio stations that play nothing but other bands that sound like those bands. What was once “alternative” is now a part of the mainstream.

This, then, means that there’s no reason why “alternative” music couldn’t continue to exist today - it would just sound entirely different from the alternative music that was around a decade or more ago. And alternative music does continue to exist today; in fact, some of the stuff that existed in the original “alternative” scene never got fully incorporated into the mainstream and is therefore still “alternative” (consider hardcore punk and harsh noise music). Though you might disagree with that if you believe...

2. ...that the advent of streaming caused everyone to start listening to “everything, everywhere, all at once”. As much as I appreciate the movie reference, however, this might be the most dubious claim of the three. I think we can say for a fact that the vast majority of people did not start listening to “every” genre outside the box they would have stayed within before. Have there been more crossover hits? Sure! But Lil Nas X having a country hit with a hybrid hip-hop song does not mean that everyone is now listening to Throbbing Gristle along with their Britney Spears.

Granted, more people are than before streaming. But again, against this claim, I would argue that this has almost nothing to do with streaming itself and more to do with a particular cultural moment in the early 2010s that actually started prior to streaming. This was the moment of “poptimism”, in which vast swarthes of internet critics, fearing their reputations for being “pretentious” and “no fun”, suddenly embraced pop music as a serious art form more intensely than ever before, taking Taylor Swift just as seriously as Nick Cave. There were other factors at work here, no small part of which involved the feminist revival movement, but to go in-depth on this part would require a whole other article (which I will hopefully write someday). Mainly, my point is that the cultural momentum of poptimism did actually mean that certain groups of listeners started broadening their horizons, coincidentally just as streaming was starting to take off. But this is not because of streaming; it was instead due to the cultural zeitgeist, and there was only ever a small minority following that zeitgeist in the face of millions who would still never touch an album by Sonic Youth (even if they own a “Goo” parody T-shirt). Popular tastes, contrary to popular belief, continues to have limits, and you’ll find that you can’t just walk into any party and switch seamlessly from Post Malone to Pere Ubu - though maybe if you’re a post-poptimist music critic who only talks to other music critics, you might get this false impression.

3. I may be putting words in the critic’s mouth here, but their phrasing does imply the existence of a former time where there was “true” alternative music, unlike the “fake” alternative music Måneskin  plays. Ignoring the fact that I already disproved the existence of any coherent, “true” alternative music in my first point, let’s focus on the other part of the claim, that Måneskin’s music “isn’t a reaction to anything”. On one hand, this is kind of true - we should remember that the band got their biggest initial boost through competing in Eurovision, which is probably one of the least counter-cultural things you can do if you’re European. On the other hand, the band’s success speaks to a different kind of cultural reaction - one that stems mainly from their audience, and one that Måneskin is (unfortunately) just smart enough to play into as a marketing tactic.

Why does the Pitchfork reviewer think Måneskin is writing lyrics like those in “Kool Kids”? While it may be true that the band is unlikely to sincerely mean them (and I don’t doubt that for a second), that doesn’t mean that their millions of fans don’t believe in these sentiments. The reviewer seems to be forgetting something important about the relativity of being “alternative” - the fact that there remains a large part of the population that, however “mainstream” their tastes in the genre might be, still identify significantly more with rock as a genre than anything else. My guess is they forgot due to the very assumptions they made about the aforementioned “post-streaming monoculture” we’re supposedly currently living in, but I am fairly confident that it is this very crowd that sees themselves as “alternative” in relation to the non-rock “mainstream” (see: largely any successful music by women or black people of the last couple decades, but that’s another conversation). And from their standpoint, they are correct: in a culture that spent a lot of the last couple decades marginalizing “rock” as an “aging white man’s genre”, if it wasn’t trying to reinvent the genre by ripping apart everything recognizable about it and starting again, this audience’s hunger for more of the same bland stuff does make them “alternative” in a relative way. And Måneskin delivers by catering to that very notion; yes, it’s cold, it’s calculated and it’s far more commercial than any of the fans would probably like to admit, but it’s also exactly the fantasy they want to be sold. And it is a reactionary fantasy, one in which Max Martin and hip-hop never conquered the charts and pop-punk just became the common parlance of the day (actually, there is a sense in which even that is becoming a quasi-reality in itself, but that is once again a topic for another incredibly long essay I hope someday to write).

So you think Måneskin isn’t a “reaction” to anything like punk or grunge were? Aside from their “memeability” (something I haven’t discussed because it’s near-impossible to measure, but is also definitely a factor in their overnight success), I’d say that’s one of the only reasons they’ve reached such a large audience - by providing the safest “alternative” possible to an audience that doesn’t feel like putting in the effort to keep up with the speed of modern pop discourse.

[flattypattysquid]

poop and man

shrek x zhongli

warning:none

EYYY YALLS FAV AUTHOR IS BACK

It was an oily morning, The sun blooms on the horizon, golden petals stretching ever outwards into the vast mass of swamp, where shrek resides. Swamp was always a lively place, with different types of plants surrounding the area. In the middle of the swamp stands a lonely house, with nothing but a toilet accompanying it on the side. That's where Shrek shits.

Birds' playful chirping can be heard, a hunter takes out a shotgun and shoots all of them. A loud sound awakens a being in a house, shrek realised the sun had already risen and slowly sat up on the bed. With yawns and stretching he put his morning clothes on, and got ready for the day. He brushed his teeth with whale poo, smeared his mothers dead lipstick on his hairy sexy armpits, and finally he checked his ass in a mirror. He really liked the way his butcheeks quenched.

He aggressively threw the door open, somebody once told shrek he was going to be a star. He smiled at the thought. He could barely remember who that person was, but Shrek made his goal to find the stranger and thank him for inspiring him. The only thing he knew was that the person had a deep sexy voice and looked like a human. His thoughts were interrupted by the exploding diarrhoea swirling in his ass. He put his pink crocs on and started rushing to the toilet.

-AUUUUUGGGHHH- he screamed. Poop coming out of his butthole felt like someone was giving him a anal. He imagined that instead of poo the mysterious man was driving his fingers in and out of his ass. He started to cry, it was too much!!! 

It took him about thirty minutes to finish his yet another episode of hardcore shit. He finally calmed down, his chest rising up and down. He stood up and took a deep shaky breath, he felt really embarrassed, he could dig up a hole and die in it. Shrek finally decided to wipe his stinky ass with a wooden branch. Even though he went through all that trauma his daily routine wasn’t finished yet, he still got more to do. He walked over to the swamp, taking his pink crocs off, he dipped his hairy toe onto the mud. He let a few seconds pass by and then took his toe out of the brown mud. Now that the bath was done he had still one thing to do. He strolled back to his house and placed himself in front of the door, he stared at the door for a few minutes, then he started aggressively twerking while making a chad face. With the final part of his morning routine done, he sighed and opened the door to rest.

He almost split his head on a rock. It was around noon when he decided to take a calming walk through the forest like he always does. The walk didn't go so well, fist he encountered a bear with big bushy balls dangling from its crouch. He got molested(don't worry he enjoyed it). Then he almost broke his head on a rock by slipping on thin air, but somehow missed the rock by a little. He struggled to get up but with mental effort he got up anyway. He continued walking through the forest, passing green bright leaves hanging for life on a tree. Branches on the ground cracking with every heavy step Shrek took, squirrels gossiping about walnuts, a light breeze occasionally waltzing through the forest. That's what Shrek loved the most about the forest, the calmness of it. That calmness was interrupted when he heard a familiar irritating voice coming from behind him.

“ eyyy, what's up shrek? Long time no see!” the voice enthusiastically yelled from behind him disturbing the forest.

“... oh hey buddy '' shrek mumbled against his breath as he turned to look at him, not really wanting to engage in a conversation with him. It's not that he disliked donkey, no in fact he was his trusted friend. But after all that's happened to Shrek, he wanted to spend his time alone.

It seems that surprisingly the donkey caught the hint. ” alright alright, imma leave you alone, since orgs have layers and all, but if you want to talk to me i am always available, except for the time i am smashing my wife, see ya!” and with that donkey turned around and started to hop into the opposite direction, happily humming a tune to himself.

“Thanks donkey” shrek quietly murmured and smiled, so that the only witness to him saying those words were the trees. 

With that he continued to walk.

[llycaons]

Section Two: Part VI

Now try saying something true and beautiful: explicit works that make a point using sex or sex scenes

*end the rises and the falls* by eeriemedusa

summary: postcanon and married, a still-recovering wwx attempts to use bdsm unsafely as a coping mechanism for his residual trauma. one of the most nuanced portrayals of a character’s relationship with sex that I’ve ever read. compassionate and loving. novel canon, but it doesn’t matter too much wwx is triggered during sex - see notes work issues: none author issues: none

*talk about all the good things (and the bad things) by shipyrds

summary: you know how a ton of fics take the ‘every day means every day’ thing really seriously to the point where it’s creepy? what if wwx like. realized it wasn’t actually fun to have sex quite so much and that promise was unsustainable and maybe not meant literally anyway, so he decided to actually bring it up with lwj? this was a refreshingly honest discussion of that aspect of their married life. novel canon by design the second chapter is literally just porn and I don’t even think it’s that good and it adds nothing to the story so I’m only reccing the first chapter there are conversations about consent; check notes for more details work issues: none author issues: genderbends and sex pollen

Like a Blade on Bone by givemeunicorns

summary: during a postcanon bdsm scene, wwx is triggered. honestly this is a very lovely and gentle fic. it’s about taking care work issues: none author issues: xiyao, niyao, 3zun, xuexiao

The Thought of Then and Now by BlessedAreTheFandoms

summary: a short fic where lwj comes home stressed and really ready to go but wwx isn’t up for it and lwj sees that and refocuses and they have a really comforting talk instead. challenges some of the more harmful assumptions about wwx and lwj and their sex life, and emphasizes the importance of continuous consent and communication. very tender. technically either canon I’ve read another one with almost the exact same premise but wwx just tells him to go ahead anyway and use him for stress relief and lwj DOES it literally I was sitting there like 😨 lwj is just going to fuck him anyway??? this was such a palate-cleanser lol work issues: none author issues: none

if i see you every tuesday by eeriemedusa

summary: do you hate the sex god virgin lwj trope? so does this author, and they wrote this little fic about a realistic take on lwj’s past about it, ft. communication. a bit sad, but very warm and mature and satisfying. novel canon work issues: none author issues: none

Don’t let them get you down, you’re the best thing I’ve seen by fantasiavii

summary: modern au where cis wwx and trans lwj navigate their sex lives. not much of a plot, just a lot of communication and gender euphoria and joyful sex. made me smile. kind of a pwp but also not really since the sex IS the plot? I’m sticking it in here anyway work issues: none author issues: none

Content Warning: Romance by Ariaste

summary: you know how all those fics make lwj say something nice and have wwx go ‘oh lan zhan you can’t just say that without warning, my heart can’t take it!” and it can get really annoying? well here they delve into wwx’s mindset and explore how to compliment wwx in a way he’ll be able to accept and internalize it, and the answer is uhhh kinkily. the sex scenes were well-done and I thought the ending was very sweet and satisfying. I was proud of them both for making progress and it felt like good closure for that rather obnoxious fanfic phrase. work issues: none author issues: has written xiyao and jl/lsz

Any Softer And I’d Shatter by Voidflower    

summary: kind of hard to describe this one. another take on ‘therapy via sex’. so wx exclusively have really hardcore and rough sex, which wwx sometimes tries to use as something of a coping method to avoid unwelcome feelings. but when they have like, vanilla and gentle sex for once it’s extremely emotional and helps wwx confront all the tender feelings and insecurities he finds it really difficult to face otherwise. second chapter isn’t as good imo but it’s in a similar vein. tagged as both, but this feels more likely to be a novel verse work work issues: there’s kind of a teacher/student vibe to the second chapter but lwj WAS in charge of discipline for his peers so it’s not as weird as it could have been. cnc is mentioned as something they like but doesn’t happen in any of the sex scenes author issues: none besides above

 trust falls by spookykingdomstarlight                

summary: really lovely and tender character study for wwx, his hangups about being taken care of, and his desire to reciprocate what he perceives as lwj’s utter selflessness. being little more than a pwp, this just barely makes it on the list, but the underlying character commentary qualifies it I think. and I always like to see them switch it up NOTE: this fic is at squideworld archive, which appears to be an ao3 copy that requires users to be 18+. signup is pretty easy, and it looks and functions exactly the same as ao3 work issues: none author issues: a LOT of weird shit. sex slavery, cnc, dubcon, nhs/jgy, genderbends, xiyao, A/B/O, jgy/wwx (which like….???? ok)

oh, these are real things by typefortydeductions

summary: the first work of a modern AU where newly-together wwx and lwj deal with wwx’s depersonalization issues and negotiate having sex that ramps up in kinkiness. I really liked all the communication happening and I thought it was a neat translation of wwx’s issues to a non-magical setting I don’t like the rest of the series as much but here’s a rundown: it follows them as they continue managing their issues, adopt kids, and handle becoming parents. wwx is not cis in this one (undefined but akin to genderfluid) and they really lean into wwx’s breeding kink so they call him a wife and mom and it gets a little weird? however none of this shows up in the first work. the characterizations were…decent. I do like the maturity, realism, and emotional honesty in the rest of the series. the bdsm scenes can be really intense because they legit do hardcore sadism and masochism, but because they communicate so thoroughly about it, I didn’t dislike it in the way I dislike most bdsm in fic. but I still skimmed a lot of the sex scenes. and overall I don’t like it enough to rec work issues: for this first fic? really nothing for the rest of the series, lwj is a bit possessive, there’s some emphasis on wwx being skinny/lwj’s big hands, and 3zun is a background couple. xxc/sl/xy is also mentioned as a poly relationship. author issues: same author as above - cnc, dubcon, A/B/O, genderbends

Back to Start

[hismercytomyjustice]

HA. HAHA. HAHAHA. HAHAHAHA.

Nothing like your OCD specialist therapist suggesting an inpatient OCD program to make you realize just how great you’re doing mental health-wise!

Not that there’s anything wrong with that kind of program, of course! Just…was not expecting that…

Hahaha. Fuck. ( . _ . )

I mean, I def appreciate her bringing it up, and I probably could benefit from something like that. But I’m also just really hopeful I’ll be able to just magically snap out of this stupid depressive rut I’ve been in. There’s also the possibility of medication management too since I’m still on a dose lower than what is usually prescribed for OCD.

I’ve been doing better in a handful of areas. Like not going into a major OCD spiral when I read another fic by an author I’m a huge fan of that hit on a lot of the same tropes as my most recent one did and that came out like 24 hours or so before mine. Thankfully I read it after I posted mine or I probably would’ve hardcore spiraled and may not have posted mine at all because that’s the kind of thing my OCD fucking loves.

I continue to still resist the compulsion to build out a searchable database of every fic I’ve ever read out of fear of accidentally and unintentionally plagiarizing someone… did check with my therapist on that a while back and yes, it would have been a compulsion and therefore a lapse… yaaaay, ocd win…

Ugh. She said she’s had other clients who have gone who’ve gotten a lot out of it, but idk. I’d have to take time off of work, travel (it’s like 4.5 hours away from where I live), factor in cost (it’s considered “partial hospitalization”) in that you go to sessions during the day and then go home or to your hotel), etc etc etc. She said they do it for 1 week up to a month or so at a time. And it’s an opportunity to focus on your needs and get better.

Idk. Idk. Idk. It’s something to think about at least.

Like I like the idea of having more time to focus on my mental health since I’ve been struggling so much lately, but it also sounds mildly terrifying and very stressful as far as my personal hangups are concerned. She said you can leave whenever and don’t have to stay if you don’t like it or it’s not working tho.

So much of my personality and self-image is based around “I will have my shit together or die trying” that the thought of admitting I might need that level of help is really difficult and stressful for me.

Ugh. Can I just trade my brain in for a new one? Surely this one is considered totaled by now…

I think I just wanna see if upping my meds again will help for now and, if not, maybe I’ll look into something like that.

(；￣Д￣) Uuuugh mental illness isn’t your fault but it’s annoying af that it is your responsibility…