#And they still want to put Trump in power again

[aquitainequeen]

Opened up Twitter. Saw how many Republican higher ups were denying the insurrection of January 6th. Closed Twitter.

[nevermind-i-forgot-whats-that]

Sometimes, as much as I love internet communities and spaces, I really think a lot of people have spent so much time in sanitized, morally pure echo chambers that they lose sight of realism and life outside the internet.

I live in Alabama. My fiancée and I cannot hold hands down the street without fear of homophobic assholes. We have an abortion ban with no exceptions for rape or incest. We are one of the poorest states in the US with some of the lowest scores on metrics related to quality of life, including maternal mortality, healthcare, education, and violence. It’s not a coincidence that we are also one of the most red, one of the most Republican states in the Union. In 2017 the UN said the conditions in Alabama are similar to those in a third-world country.

Trump gave a voice to the most violently racist, sexist, xenophobic groups of people who, unfortunately for most of us in the Southern U.S., run our states and have only grown more powerful since his rise to power. The Deep South powers MAGA, and we all suffer for it.

We have no protections if they don’t come from the federal government.

I know people are suffering internationally and my heart is with them. However, this election is not just about foreign policy - we have millions of Americans right here at home living in danger, living in areas where they have been completely abandoned by their local leaders. We need this win.

No candidate is perfect, but for the first time in my voting lifetime I’m excited to vote. I’m excited for the Kamala Harris/Tim Walz ticket because they are addressing the issues close to home. They’re advocating for education as the ticket to a better life, but without the crippling student debt. They’re advocating for the right to love who you love without fear and with pride. Kamala has always been pro-LGBT+ and so has Tim. Again, if you’re queer in the South, we don’t have support unless it comes from the federal government, and we absolutely will not have support if the Republicans regain the White House.

Kamala speaks in length about re-entry programs to reduce recidivism and help people who have been arrested and imprisoned regain their lives. Tim Walz supported restoring voting rights to felons. In the South, you know who comprise the majority of felons? Members of minorities. It’s one of the major tools of systemic racism and mass disenfranchisement, and arguably the modern face of slavery (there are some fantastic documentaries and books that explain the connection between the post-Reconstruction South and the disproportionate rates of imprisonment for BIPOC). Having candidates who recognize this and want to restore the freedom and rights to people who have come into contact with the criminal justice system? And keep them from having to go to prison in the first place? That’s refreshing. That’s exciting.

I would *love* to live in a country where women’s rights are respected, where LGBT+ rights and protections are a given, where we treat former criminals and individuals experiencing mental health crises with respect and dignity. I would *love* to live in a country where education is free of religious interference and each and every citizen is entitled to a fair start and equal opportunities.

But I don’t live in that country. Millions and millions of Americans find their rights and freedoms up for debate and on the ballot.

Project 2025 poses the largest threat to the future of our democracy as we know it. We are being called to fight for the future of our country.

We have to put on our oxygen masks first before we can help others.

You don’t have moral purity when you wash your hands of the millions of us who are still fighting for own freedoms right here.

The reality is that a presidential candidate is a best fit, and not a perfect fit. But comparatively speaking? Kamala is pretty damn close.

[qqueenofhades]

I just feel like even if we all vote and Biden wins, Trump won't accept the loss, and eventually they'll just put him in anyway. And then there won't be another real election. Even if Biden wins and somehow is actually confirmed (which again, I think is unlikely) we're going to have to do this for 30 more years because of the SC, and that isn't at all sustainable.

All this isn't to say I won't vote but I just think people are being way too optimistic about what happens if Biden wins. I don't think him winning will keep Trump out or the horrible fascist future at bay.

Look, I get the fear. I do, I do... but this is also one of the times when you have to ask if it's actually telling you something true, or if it's just preying on that generalized feeling of doom to make everything seem hopeless even if we win again. And that is... there is absolutely no actual mechanism for Trump to be installed as president if Biden wins the Electoral College (since as we have repeatedly seen, the popular vote is immaterial). SCOTUS is horrible and evil and are trying to interfere as much ahead of time for Trump as they can, but part of that is because they can't simply issue an order for Biden to be removed and Trump to become God King By Fiat. That is not how it works. If Biden wins in November, he will be president until his term ends, he steps down, Kamala takes over, or anything else.

Trump tried a coup with all the entire overwhelming might of the US government as the sitting president last time; fortunately, it failed. Reforms to the Electoral Count Act have been made to prevent another January 6. The Department of Defense and the military are still under (and would be on another January 6) Biden's command, not Trump's. That's not to say that Trump won't try some shit with his insane cult followers, but he is just a late 70s conman from Queens out on bail and under sentence for a criminal trial, who is already the biggest and most disgraced loser and asshole in American political history. He is so desperate to cheat his way back into power because in a real sense, this IS the last-chance saloon for him. He can't put off the legal proceedings, however long they take, for another four years. He's losing his marbles at a rapid rate. I'm just saying: we don't know what or when, but there will be (and already have been) real consequences for him. That is why he is scrabbling so hard.

"Even if we vote, nothing matters and Trump will win anyway" is another of those insidious lies that works to make you feel as if the battle is endless and pointless and none of its victories matter. Of course it will not all be magically fixed forever if Biden wins. We will still have to figure some godforsaken fucking way to expand SCOTUS or kick Alito and Thomas off it. But we will have bought ourselves, our democracy, our country, and the world time to do that, and put another nail in Trump's coffin. That matters. It matters a lot.

Fascism wants to present itself as overwhelming, irresistible, inevitable, and ready to happen no matter what you do, and that's what your brain wants you to buy in now. But that's not the case, Trump is not inevitable or some all-powerful monolith (in fact, another of the debate takeaways seemed to be that Biden looked bad but people still hate Trump too much for it to really shift anything). He is a loser, a fraud, a conman, a liar, and a crook, and he WANTS you to fear him like an almighty god. Don't give him or the MAGAGOP the satisfaction.

Frankly, having to endure another four months of this might kill us all, and I know that we are tired and scared (me too). But IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. Not at all. Let's hang onto that and tell that anxiety doom voice to shove it.

Hugs.

[decolonize-the-everything]

Hi :3

So someone said Kamala is the female Obama and I've been thinking about it....

And then did some internet sleuthing about it.

Hear me out

Didn't Dems use Obama to win Black voters after losing the previous election to Bush cuz Al Gore (like Clinton) lost?

And didn't they blame the 3rd party candidate Ralph Nader for Al Gore's loss?? Much like they blamed Bernie Bros?? Even tho the truth was that al Gore was hardly better and lacked the charisma Bush had? (Again, like Trump?)

So are we sure this is actually democrats conceding anything at all?? Are we not sure they put Kamala in the WH just to adjust voters to the idea of her being president anyway? That maybe they do realize the need for change but have chosen to err on the side of token progress that keeps them in power...again?

Article from Dec 2010:

At first glance, the president and Harris have much in common: Both are mixed-race children of immigrants raised by a single mother; both are eloquent, telegenic big-city lawyers with strong liberal credentials who catapulted from relative obscurity to the national stage. And like the first African-American president, Harris has broken a long-standing barrier — she’s California’s first African-American attorney general and the first woman to hold the office.

[...]“She’s a rare talent who will be a national figure shortly,” said Chris Lehane, a former Clinton aide who is now a consultant in California. “People call her the female Obama. It’s more apt to say she is the female Obama that progressives thought they were voting for.”

Are we absolutely positive that we have been learning lessons from history; like even recent history even? Because she isn't actually much different from Obama at all and this was Obama's legacy:

People were then reassured by Obama and rather than voting for 3rd parties in 2012 like they said, they elected Obama again. Just like y'all tried to do with Biden. And definitely like what will happen under Kamala.

He even got people to vote for him cuz of his promise to secure abortion rights and he did this right:

But tell me how that stopped the supreme court from stripping it???

Don't fall for this again

Cuz people were fucking pissed after Obama weren't they. Progressives wouldn't put up with a moderate like Clinton even compared to Trump. And that was unexpected wasn't it, progress that they couldn't come back from. So they lost to Trump, but what a convenient reset! Suddenly settling wasn't so bad for the American people, huh? And y'all elected Biden.

Who, outside the homoerotic Biden/Obama memes, people didn't like (and I'd argue those memes are what made him likeable to the younger generations to begin with).

But things have been tense, haven't they? The displeasure of voters didn't completely go away when Biden remained a centrist. It wasn't enough, especially when he supported genocide. And now they give us Kamala after we wanted Biden to step down for supporting Israel?

....But she still supports Israel?

Nobody knows how/if progressives will show up for Kamala because we can all feel how much Kamala isn't pleasing anyone. The tension is still palpable. Democrats have made an awful bet.

And I am DONE.

Dems have been manipulating voters away from 3rd parties every single election while making promises they never keep good on, while doing NOTHING to actually protect any of us or make anything better. While killing people, deporting them, and justifying war crimes! While liberals promise to push them left and never do and ALSO tell everyone not to vote 3rd party "right now"

All they do is perpetuate the systems that serve each other. I mean we're in 2000 & 2008 again, politically. Already.

They will never ever systematically support progress the way that 3rd parties do. And they don't care to listen or change cuz they know they can Force you to vote for less by making sure that a centrist Democrat is always on the ticket with ballot access in every state and nobody else is.

They make sure if it in fact

If progress is what you want it's time to Genuinely start listening to people who tell you a vote for democrats is worthless for your goals.

I'm just fed up mexi-ojibwe american adult who grew up with shitty presidents and grew up with full access of the internet to educate myself about what led to this mess.

So are a LOT of other adults who feel this way!!!

And what we know led to this situation is the two party system. And how the system has been enabled by scared liberals who listen to fear-mongerering Democrats every election.

Democrats want history to repeat because it keeps them in power. Because what they do and how they treat you keeps them in power.

Is that what you want? To be treated like this in perpetuity for almost nothing in return?

Me neither.

So unless you have a better idea or plan to start burning shit down yourself then your most realistic option to break out of this abusive cycle is to vote 3rd party.

"vote blue in the primary, it's our only realistic option!" -> "if you don't vote blue you deserve trump" -> "can't you just be happy republican/trump lost?" -> quietly not doing much between elections-> "vote blue in the-" etc

Cycles don't end on their own, that's the thing about cycles in fact.

So vote 3rd party. Yeah it's scary. Yeah it might not work. But again, do you have a better idea? Because what we're doing and have been doing for the last 30 years, this "lesser evil" & "vbnmw" thing was the liberals' idea and that isn't working for any of us At All. Its keeping us here in this cycle where nothing gets better but it can Always get worse.

If you can't vote 3rd party in your state ask yourself why that is then do something about it.

Quit expecting democrats to give a shit about the equality you need when you've been protesting genocide for nearly a year and they still welcomed the war criminal for a conversation in the white house.

Any right you've won under democrats is as superficial as Obama's executive order and that's been proven.

⭐ Tldr ⭐

According to all available history: FUCK DEMOCRATS; You NEED to be supporting 3rd parties if you support progress and you need to do the work of getting their names out. Democrats DO fight and suppress 3rd parties. So its more work to support a 3rd party than a democrat, yeah.

But if progress is worth anything at all it should be worth at least trying to do the work it takes to get a viable 3rd party on the ballot.

DO THAT PLEASE.

Thank you

[arsnof]

ArsCo Presents the Inaugural Arsnof's Great American Yard Sard Comics and Sundry Sale 2024!

Hello there! I'm Arsnof. You may remember me from content such as "Canadian Illustrator", "Dungeon Mentat", or even "Transformers Meme". I'm here today to host a celebration of buying things, thinking they're so super cool, and then putting them away and never looking at them again. Comics, books, toys, anime, manga, CCGs, rare webcomic goodies, tiny figurines of yokai, a Little Golden Book adaptation of Gremlins that ends before midnight, Chuck Norris's Karate Kommandos, can you read Japanese because I can't, official Soul Coughing stickers, a hoard of well read Wizards and Toyfares, Funko Pops, feet pics (you can get off, but only if you can correctly diagnose what's wrong first), Transformers...

I could go on forever, but I got it, you want it, we can make a deal (no tongue).

Why is this happening? I'm shit broke and getting shitter. Going down like a Trump Casino. Guy paying his bills on time? I haven't heard that name in forever.

I've been taking care of my ailing father (tried to die on us three times so far this year) and the rest of my family (I don't owe you an explanation, cop) and then someone just up and decided to make my automobile a notomobile.

They didn't have insurance, but that's okay because we have full cov-*hand to ear*-what? We don't? Only comprehensive? Since when? FUCKING shit... Okay, but we still have uninsured motorist, so-four thousand? Four thousand. Dollars. $4,000. To replace an entire ass truck.

We are in desperate need of a car. I've got a lifetime of memories. You, on average, have some change sitting around. Can I have some? I'll trade you stuff.

I'm starting with my comics because they're easiest to catalogue. See something you like? HMU, as the kids say (please God don't let that be a sex thing) and I'll see what I can do. I'm giving the comic shop at which I used to work a vague preference, but I can be swayed.

Next up will be the trades and manga, DVDs of varied origin, toys, and so on.

Criminitly.

If life can stop kicking us in the gender neutral pain zone for five fucking minutes, @paulyollyoxxenfree and I will get back to handicrafts. They're getting back into the amiguroove and I'm going to hit the pad - finish and print Kitty, start Dr. Doctor. Stickers and stuff. I'm not shaving for a while to put me in mall Santa shape by Thanksgiving.

But what if you've got too much money and you're sick of it, but you hate being given things? I take donations. If you put a special request in the memo, I won't even give you the thanks. I'll just spit. I take requests.

Papal

Cache

Fuck, I don't know, antelope? My email - arsnof@gmail.com

I might make one of those kofi things.

Oh and, heheh, one more thing...

Launching in the fourth quarter 2024, ArsCo is proud to announce Alone With Arsnof, the happening new app that gives you the power to have some one-on-one time *gunshot* wit- *sudden fade to red-tinted black, gunshot echo. Sirens fade in. HE'S DOWN! OVER THERE! THE ROOF? A high-pitched whine. Bright light. The late afternoon sky comes into focus. Fireballs? The sun is so bright. Automatic gunfire. No, jets. Falling. Screams. Recognizable screams. Unrecognizable screams? Inhuman? The sun blinks*

[mamayan]

Request: Male Minotaur Yandere x Female Human Childhood Sweetheart Reader

General Premise: Reader darling grew up as childhood friends with an adorable Minotaur neighbor. (She had to move away eventually and was unable to keep in touch with him, but they always remembered each other). He was really small and weak when he was young compared to other bulls of his species, so imagine her surprise when she meets him years later as an adult, and he’s fucking massive (in more ways than one…) He’s never letting her go again and is breeding/impregnating her constantly for the rest of her life. Making her his trophy wife/house wife too. (Sorry not sorry, I love babies and uxorious men who want nothing more than to seed me).

P.S. I feel like this man could either be like a farm boy…or like a rich, powerful man, who just confines reader to a large private island by Greece or something. Like…I’m so conflicted…

Also I love your stuff! Your sexy writing is the best and makes me go fish brain in the best way possible!

Love ,🧋🫖Anon

Oh my goodness 🧋🫖Anon—🫢♥️

Okay I wanna respond to this so you know I’m not ignoring~ This is so hot though?! I can’t do a full fic right now, but let’s do some headcanons cuz this has stewed in my brain.

NSFW under the cut!

Minotaur BF who you had to protect as children. Out in the country folk didn’t take kindly to those who were different, and as a human you felt badly your friend was being bullied by your own kind. Sure he wasn’t human, but his heart was kind and he was your friend! He was an outcast amongst his own too because he was a runt, treated badly every which way, except by you.

Minotaur BF who would hold your hand at night because he was scared of the thunder storms, who would cuddle up cutely beside you and sleep after you held him. He took to you like a little stray kitten, reliant on your kindness and friendship like a life raft.

Minotaur BF who nearly lost his mind when you left home, unable to comprehend why you would leave him. Didn’t you know he needed you? It wounded his soul but he comforted himself with your promise to come back. You had too after all.

Minotaur BF who sprouted up to nearly double the size of his peers. He’s not little anymore and doesn’t need you to protect him, it’s others who should worry for themselves. He’s not scared of crushing skulls if they push too far or intrude on his land. He’s a simple farmer after all, he just doesn’t like trouble.

Minotaur BF who rejoices when you return, even more beautiful and grown up. Who adores your shocked expression because he towers over you now, and he wants you to praise him for growing so well. Now he can protect you, provide for you, care for you, breed you.

Minotaur BF who won’t let you leave back to your big city again. You said you’d come back, why would he let you run away again? Your tears won’t sway this monster, and you aren’t strong enough to resist his gentle but firm hold on you. You won’t be going anywhere but his bed. You’d better get comfortable, because this big male wants you in every way.

Minotaur BF with an enormous cock that trumps whoever or whatever toys you used in that big city away from him. Your cute cunt won’t be able to take him without an absurd amount of prep, and he’s more than happy to put that work in for you. His wide long tongue swirling inside of you, glossing you up in spit and saliva and making an absolute mess of your lower body. His big fingers prying your little hole open to stretch, making you cum until you pass out and waking again being spearing on his wiggling muscle as he devours you. He’s not afraid to slip his tongue further to your tight ring of muscle and lick there either, he’s ready to worship every inch of your body.

Minotaur BF who can cook, making you the most mouth watering home made meals with ingredients he grew or slaughtered, because he wants you healthy and happy for when he breeds you. 

Minotaur BF who is still the sweetest and most considerate as long as you don’t try to leave. Who wants to spoil you endlessly and fill your womb with hot sprays of his cum because you look too cute like that. You want that dress, game, etc.? He’ll get it for you, don’t you worry. He’s got you covered, literally. :3

Minotaur BF who finally gets your tight little hole to fit all of him, it took a lot of work and energy but when you’re drooling and fucked out on his meaty rod, it satisfies something primal in him. He fucks you slow and gently, because you can’t handle him entirely yet, but he loves you dearly anyway. He’s all to happy to take you apart slowly, rubbing your clit while you cream his cock and lower half with your arousal and release as he lightly rocks his hips. It still leaves you reeling, even the act of him pulling out slowly takes your breath away, has you clawing at his chest or horns and mewling.

Minotaur BF who pumps you so full of cum it’s like a solo bukkake porno, the level of fluid he releases in one orgasm unimaginable. You feel him filling you up because he’s overflowing from your womb and out, making a mess that only spurs him on to do it again. It leaves him wild and lubricates you up to take him again, his swollen balls ready to take on the task.

Minotaur BF who will intentionally replace your birth control with placebos, because he dreams of having a family with you as soon as possible.

Dividers/ @benkeibear

[demontruth]

Prison Time for Trump is needed and this Why...

Y'all, I just did the math (if I did it correctly), I just realized something Trump could get 136 years in prison!! Because each of 34 counts comes with a maximum of 4 years if the Judge decided that Trump should do them separatly boom 134 years! Which fingers crossed. I know that highly unlikely but still the thought makes me so incredibly happy!! However I do think the Judge should give 'No Longer Teflon Don' some prison time.

Here's my thoughts on that. Because no matter the amount of time it's gonna fuck with Trump's head psychologically, as I see it. He's gonna be put in handcuffs taken out of the court room, hopefully. Put on a prison bus, once again hopefully. He's gonna be taken to a prison, maybe it be white collar or please let be federal prison. They're still gonna take all this clothes from him and anything that he has like his expensive ass watch and everything else he has on his person. Then they're going to strip searching him, which I feel extremely bad for whatever prison guard that may end up having do that. Give that man bonus, no joke. That's gonna have to do that. But still just that experience is going to be humiliating and demoralizing which I'm sorry he deserves in my opinion. Maybe but doubtful it will teach him some humility. Then they're going to make him get into whatever color jumpsuit, may it be orange, oh please Jesus let it be orange! Then those he going have to put on those lovely prison shoes. Then they're gonna take his ass to a cell where he's gonna have a celly no doubt. Hopefully its someone that fucking dislike him strongly and not one of his MAGA asshole. And then they're going to close the cell door. That sound alone I would imagine would have a profound effect on him mentally. Because he's the arrogant, a narcissist, egotistical, sociopathic. In that prison he's just like everybody else. He's can't stand up there thinking he's the big man having all his loyal MAGA cult followers screaming and cheeringfor him. That's going to mess with him like nothing else. And put him on a level with what he considers common people is going to mess with him in a way that nothing else ever could. Because he won't get special treatment, the prison guards aren'tgoing to treat him better then the other prisoners shit they might treat him worse if he acts up. Ithink it's so important that it happens to this motherfucker. It's time he brought down to the level he deserves. The level he's been running from forever. Because has anyone seen him now? I have no by choice, just watching the news and of course he's all over the news. He looks so defeated, pathetic, sad, old, beaten, tried, as he would say zero energy. As evil as this may sound and I really don't care... I fucking love it!! Give more of it!!

Now we just HAVE TO DEFEAT him in the Presidential election!! Biden may not be what we want either but it better then a man that's going be hell bent on revenge on everyone that disagrees with him, but on trial, who still want to but him on trial. Remember he still has at least 2 more trials coming and if gets back in the White House he'll do everything in his power to squash them. He'll go after the FBI, the DOJ and every other agency that investigated him. He will literally go on a witch hunt! Don't be mistaken and don't be stupid enough to believe he will not go full Dictator if he gets back into the white house. Trump likes/loves power far too much either far actual prison time with more criminal trials down the road he'll use that power to make sure that don't happen. See the whole I want to President again is just a Red Herring, to distract everyone from his criminal trials and a way to make them go away.

Once again I'm saying something I've been saying since before Trump became President the first time omg I'm tried. But anyway. Trump doesn't give a flying monkey shit about anyone but himself! Not the us the American people, not our Foreign policy, not climate crisis, not gun control, not education... nothing!! The only reason his sides with the Conservatives is because they kiss his ass. I completely understand why us on the left will not. But it does put us in the position of Trump not doing that we need him to do. So as much as I hate this we should pick somebody on the left that would be willing to kiss his ass so hopefully he would start doing what we want him to do. And you have no idea how much that pains me to actually write that!

But we on the left need to start fighting like we did in the last Presidential election! Grass root efforts, hitting the streets, online, fucking everywhere, especially with swing voters! We have get Biden re-elected no matter what because this another election of our life times that will matter in more then just 4 year from now!!

[modifieduchiha]

Part 7- II | II ~ Or read on AO3

Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7

·Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist · Series Masterlist ·

♡Summary : Because of your boyfriend Megumis's mistake, you became the sought after prize of his criminal father Toji Fushiguro. However, what you never expected was to unearth certain secrets about the two men , and even yourself. ♡Word Count: 4,815 ♡Characters in this chapter : Toji, Megumi, Reader, Satoru Gojo ♡Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! Female reader, cheating, squirting, orgasm, toxicity , corruption kink, daddy k!nk, size k!nk, praise, fingering, toxicity, yandere behavior, PORN WITH A PLOT! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

♡Authors Note: I will eventually update the warnings section for each chapter but as of now it will remain the same. Please remember with is porn with a plot. ♡ IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES REPLY TO THIS AND LET ME KNOW OR PUT IT IN MY ASK BOX

[@breadbaker69, ]

 !! TRIGGER WARNING !! The following themes will be included from this point forward:Sex/blasphemy/dubious consent/death (of minor characters)/Drug use/Rape/etc If you have a history of drug use/rape, etc- this story may trigger you.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT This is not a soft story. You have been warned. Begins below the cutt. 18+ — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The sterile scent of antiseptic and other chemical cleaning agents clung to the air, it had replaced the metallic smell of blood. 

Those were the few things you noticed before the sharp pain entered your neck, the needle once again inserted.

"It's okay. Just go back to sleep" Megumi softly pled while his shaky thumb was pressing on the plunger to once again sedate you. 

Though this was his father's orders, he also didn't want you to see the fallout of your actions, the actions that wouldn't have come to fruition had he not lied to you in the first place. 

It was like warm milk as a child right before bed, the solution to render you unconscious. Over and over you were forced back into a state of dreamless sleep by Megumi, there was no use in fighting. 

You wouldn’t win. 

There was no evidence of how long you’d been stuck here, cuffed to the bed that had become your own personal prison. 

That sterile smell was no longer as pungent, it no longer burnt your nostrils as you took in a fresh breath. Megumi was lost in his own head replaying every memory since the day you met, trying to find a reason to be angry with you, but he couldn’t. 

You both had betrayed each other and now you were both in your own personally made, hand-crafted prisons. 

It took a few tries over a few minutes to open your eyes, no longer did your eyelids feel far too heavy to be held open. 

It took about as much time to realize that the familiar prick of the needle had seized, someone was allowing you to wake up, to become aware. No more blood was visible on your body, you seemed unscathed.

”My resentments begun to outweigh my love for you, Megumi-”  

The words came out raspy and cold as you stared at the back of your boyfriend's head. There he was sitting at the edge of the bed, your prison. 

“I know.” His lips found themselves pursed, thanking whatever higher power that you decided to make your admission while he wasn’t facing you. 

Over the course of nearly 27 hours, he had worked tirelessly with Toji and a few other associates to disassemble and dispose of Nobaras body, a few vials of blood specimens collected from her, and dental records destroyed.

Megumi had emptied his stomach more times than he could count, dehydration making him dizzy. The anger and hatred toward his father still couldn’t trump the love and admiration he held for you, the need to save you,  yet all of those emotions had begun to blend together. 

He was traumatized, in survival mode, and knew he couldn’t actually let you nor Toji find out his true emotions or intent. His father was a man capable of many things, how far would be too far when it comes to bringing this situation up to Toji?

The metal cuffs clinked as you rustled around atop the plush covers. Why did you not feel anything about having taken the life of your best friend? 

During the few seconds of silence following Megumi's reply, that was the only thought in your head. 

“Can you-... let me out?” And before Megumi had a chance to answer, Toji stepped into the room and cleared his throat, eyeing Megumi and then you before walking toward you.

"That depends, darling. Are you going to hurt Megumi?" The question seemed absurd, given your current vulnerable position, but deep down, it was the most rational question to ask.

"Not physically," there was hesitation in your voice, your eyes locked with Toji's, sharing an unspoken understanding of the severity of the situation. There was a moment of what felt like a standoff, of intimidation between the two of you, a silent agreement that spoke volumes.

Toji knew you were cut out for this, he knew a lot more about you than your mind could conceive.

The dark and hungry feeling of your eyes shifted towards Megumi as Toji inserted the key into the locks, freeing you from your restraints. You winced as you moved, feeling the ache and burning sensation of circular bruises that marred all four of your limbs. 

Both Toji and Megumi eyed you with intrigue and slight concern as you couldn't help but grunt in pain as you rubbed the indents, realizing that no amount of rubbing would soothe the lingering discomfort.

"I know you're still foggy," Toji spoke softly, sitting close to you, closer than Megumi dared. He reached up and tenderly tucked away the loose strands of your hair, his touch gentle yet commanding. "But we have a plane to catch. Let's call it a vacation."

Your gaze shifted from Megumi's restless fingers with a slow blink, and your thick lashes fluttered back open, your attention now fixed on the smirk that adorned Toji's lips. 

Toji had recalibrated his plans, redirecting them from Megumi towards you. He had recognized your natural skill, the inherent talent you possessed.

In his eyes, you were a natural-born killer, possessing traits that harmonized with his own, making you the ideal candidate to not only carry on his legacy.

The traits you carried would blend well with his own to create the perfect heir to his dynasty. Sure there were obstacles in the way, but he had you now and there was no way Toji would let you escape him.

★・・・★

Half a day had passed since you found yourself on a plane for the first time in your life. Neither of you bothered to pay attention to the other men who had boarded and joined Toji in a separate room. 

Megumi's brows furrowed, creating creases on his forehead that revealed the complex emotions swirling within him. Across the cabin, his stare met yours, locked in a silent exchange of mixed feelings. 

This little game between you and Megumi had been going on for hours, with Toji observing your every move from a separate room on the company jet's video monitors.

The tension was palpable as you sat at the braced wooden table, your palm idly gliding across its surface, while the glass in your other hand tilted to your mouth, the intensity of your gaze unnerving Megumi. 

The cloudy sake cascaded over the ice cubes, its bitterness seeping into your throat as the engines roared louder, signifying the plane's ascent.

As the private jet soared through the sky, your outrageously expensive red-bottom heels tapped against the plush carpet beneath you, the hushed thuds adding an air of anticipation.

The flip in your stomach prompted you to hastily consume the last drop of the bitter alcohol, the ice pressing against your crimson lipstick, leaving a tingling sensation.

Earlier that day, you had been attended to by a woman who bathed you, styled your hair, and dressed you in an ensemble that cost more than your car.

Toji had made sure that an entire wardrobe was meticulously packed and brought onto the plane, further illustrating the opulence that now surrounded you.

It was in the moment when the corners of Megumi's mouth turned upward that the glass in your hand was abruptly whipped in his direction, shattering against the wall beside his head. Fragments of glass rained down, some landing on his shirt, a testament to the mounting tension between the two of you.

Toji's sudden emergence from the room sent a jolt of unease through the cabin. His eyes flickered with a mix of calculation and satisfaction as he glanced at both of you. 

There was no need for him to inquire about what had transpired; he had been watching, observing every move.

Tojis forest green eyes narrowed at Megumi briefly before moving and set on you, his brow raising just slightly along with the corner of his mouth. The teeth in your mouth were grinding against each other while his were visible in a clearly entertained grin. 

Megumi felt as if his heart had just gotten hooked on the edge of his rib when his father chuckled a bit, watching his deliberate and unsettling calm stride towards you.

Tojis thumb and pointer fingers hooked under your chin, directing your gaze to meet his intense stare. His eyes ran up and down your entire form, taking in the sight before he leaned in closer.

Fuck you were perfect. 

 “Be a good girl for now , okay?” It was less of a question than an order. Something about it made you strive to please him, earlier in the day he had informed you that he was going to be training you during the ‘vacation’ anyways.

“I think I can manage that , Sensei.” Tojis pupils grew larger at your tantalizing response. You were doing so well, maybe he wouldn’t have to resort to other methods.

Without hesitation, Toji pressed his lips against yours, the kiss starting with a deceptive tenderness before igniting a fierce passion that consumed the space between you. The intensity of the kiss left you breathless as if he was devouring the very air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and craving more.

 A depraved moan left your throat when Toji broke the kiss, his lips hovering near yours, eyes locked with yours.

Toji had made sure that Megumi would be getting the best view.

“Go get someone to clean this up, Megumi” 

His firm words reverberated into your mouth, sending chills down your spine. You knew Megumi well enough to sense the heat rising in his face. He felt a mix of embarrassment and frustration. 

Unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him, his fists involuntarily clenched at his sides. With a strained throat clearing, he stood up, silently acknowledging his father's command, and made his way to find someone to attend to the shattered glass.

‘He deserves this. He deserves this.’ You repeated in your head as Megumi left the room.

 Toji effortlessly lifted your body onto the table, his strong arms supporting you as if you weighed nothing. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer to him, while your legs found their place around his hips. The proximity between you intensified a physical connection that mirrored the underlying power dynamics at play.

The deep crimson hue of your maxi dress hugged your figure in all the right places, accentuating your curves with an undeniable allure. It matched the shade of your perfectly applied lipstick, a testament to your meticulous attention to detail. 

This was one of the qualities that Toji admired in you—the way you always made a conscious effort to present yourself flawlessly. And now, under his guidance, he would ensure that you were adorned with even more luxury and refinement.

“As much as i’d love to absolutely ravage you right here ,-” Toji pressed kisses to your neck , careful to avoid the bruises and needle holes on your neck.

“- I’d prefer to take my time with you and this is a short flight, Princess.” 

The air crackled with tension and anticipation as Toji held you close, his grip possessive yet protective.

“That's not fair.” The tips of your freshly manicured nails dug into his neck as you began to pout, and he couldn’t help but cock a brow in amusement.

“It’s hot when you talk back” Tojis's hand dipped down your inner thigh, between your parted legs to grab ahold of the thin, lacey panties you wore. Swiftly they were pulled down and skilled fingers made contact with your clit effortlessly, a breath pulled from you. 

“So wet..” Toji wore a devious smirk, his free hand tugged your panties all the way off and tucked them in his shirt pocket. 

“M’gonna be keeping these, and your thighs are shaking so much, princess. Be good and relax for me, I promise i’ll make it up later.”  Toji simultaneously gave each of your plush outer thighs a squeeze before your attention was quickly diverted as a familiar face caught your eye. It was the older woman who had attended to you earlier, the one who had taken care of your bathing and grooming.

“Mr Fushiguro, theres a call for you.” Toji deadpanned when his name was called by a familiar voice, one that made you feel nearly sick. Of course, Satoru would be here. Now. And likely knew what had transpired between you and Nobara. 

Your mind was reeling, and you couldn't help but wonder how you hadn't noticed the others boarding the plane. The games of revenge with Megumi had consumed your focus, blurring your perception of reality. Or maybe the drugs? ; Most likely a combination of both.

Toji turned his gaze back to you, his hand sliding up your back to rest at the nape of your neck. He gave a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance. Before he broke away, he placed one last deep kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Relax for now, my princess. We'll be in Kyoto in just a few minutes," Toji whispered, his voice laced with a mixture of comfort and anticipation. He gave you a knowing wink, and a forced grin formed on your lips as you glanced toward the doorframe.

And there he was, Gojo, peeking around with his smuggest smirk and a phone in hand, a clear sense of mischief in his eyes. The situation was becoming even more complicated and surreal.

After Toji rounded the corner and closed the door with Gojo, the older woman briefly inspected you before heading off in the same direction with the cleaning supplies. The sense of being watched pervaded the air, the black lenses of the cameras positioned in the corners serving as a constant reminder of the scrutiny surrounding you.

Your hands trembled slightly, urging you to hop down from the table and smooth out your dress. The need to escape the prying eyes pushed you towards the bathroom, which happened to be on the opposite side of the plane. You hurriedly made your way, almost tripping in your haste, until you reached the sanctuary of the bathroom. With a loud snap, the folding door closed behind you.

Sweaty palms pressed against the door, and your chest heaved rapidly as anxiety consumed you. You didn't think it could get any worse, but then you felt arms wrapping around you, a large hand covering your mouth.

The suddenness of the gesture sent shockwaves through your body, and you froze, except for the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

"Shh, Y/N, please don't freak out. We just need to talk," Megumi's hushed voice filled the confined space. Your entire being tensed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Watery eyes met Megumi's as he turned you around to face him, his own eyes bloodshot, a telltale sign of tears shed—probably from crying, undoubtedly from crying.

Staring at Megumi, the anger bubbling up within you as his words sank in. A dirty look was cast his way, a mix of shock and frustration etched onto your features. What the hell was he thinking? How could he expect you to trust him after everything that had happened?

"Nod your head if you'll be quiet," he pleaded, voice growing louder with a sense of urgency. Reluctantly, you nodded, signaling your compliance. He slowly removed his hand from your mouth, allowing you to speak, but your wariness remained.

"Y/N, please, I don't give a shit if you slit my throat right here, but at least let me explain what happened... with Nobara and with my dad," Megumi pleaded desperately, his voice filled with raw emotion.

”You don’t get whats gonna happen over the next few weeks..” The gravity of the situation was evident in his words, but given the recent events and the tangled web of deceit, it was natural for you to question whether you should trust him now.

"Megumi, you cheated on me with my best friend," you retorted, your anger and hurt spilling over. Your fists clenched tightly, and Megumi's grip on your forearms tightened. Beads of sweat formed along his hairline, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

"For months," you added, the bitterness in your voice seeping through. The mere thought of him betraying you with your closest confidante caused an involuntary recoil, as you tried to pull away from him. But then, Megumi's words took a sharp turn, shocking you to your core. 

"You fucked my dad, gave him your virginity, and even relapsed," he fired back, the words biting with a mix of anger and pain. Audibly drawing a breath through his nose, he attempted to regain control of his emotions. "I... I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice laced with remorse.

Megumi's apology hung in the air, his words heavy with regret and remorse. You could see the pain etched on his face, mirroring the turmoil within your own heart. Despite the hurt and anger that consumed you, a part of you couldn't help but acknowledge the sincerity in his voice.

Silence filled the small bathroom, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths. The weight of the situation settled upon you both, the truth laid bare and impossible to ignore. It was a moment of reckoning, where the choices made and the consequences faced collided in a collision of emotions.

Finally, you found the strength to speak, your words escaping in a fragile whisper. "Megumi... I don't know how to process all of this. We both messed up," you confessed, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

The pain of betrayal mingled with the remnants of love and the fragments of a bond that had once seemed unbreakable. "I... I killed her, and it felt... so easy."

Megumi's gaze softened as he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his touch causing you to wince ever so slightly. "I understand. But listen... just do whatever my dad tells you to do. Go with it, you have the natural talent for it anyways." he replied, his voice carrying a mix of sorrow and determination.

"I know I can't change the past, but I want to make things right. I want to earn back your trust, no matter how long it takes. To keep you alive and as safe as possible." There was a flicker of hope in his eyes, though his voice wavered slightly at the last sentence.

"In Kyoto, we'll be going to a private estate owned by the Fushiguro and Zenin families. Toji found something in you that he has been searching for, and it's not just about your looks, babe," Megumi explained, his voice filled with a mixture of uncertainty and significance.

"You're about to start training to take my place in the organization."

In that moment, the gravity of your situation began to weigh heavily upon you. Training to take Megumi's place? What was his role supposed to be? The memories of the night of Nobara's death were hazy as if veiled by a fog that clouded your thoughts.

A deep breath did little to alleviate the weight on your chest.

"Megumi, what was your intended role?" you asked with hesitation, your words laden with the weight of curiosity and trepidation. As a ding resonated through the entire vessel, signaling the plane's descent, the pressure in the room seemed to increase, amplifying the tension that filled the air.

The bathroom door swung open, ushering in a gust of cold air that grazed the exposed skin on your back, concealed by the fabric of your dress. You watched as Megumi's gaze drifted past you, his grip on your arms loosening.

"Hey, Megumi, whatcha doin here with my favorite girl?" Satoru's voice rang with false cheerfulness, his presence disrupting the fragile peace that had settled between you and Megumi. The danger that loomed over you intensified, fueling your curiosity about the secrets they held, the truths they concealed. The answer you were about to receive from Megumi was now left only to your imagination.

"Don't fucking touch me," you snapped, elbowing Gojo forcefully in the ribs as he attempted to drape his arm over your shoulders. Despite your resistance, he managed to grab hold of your hair, leaning in closer while catching his breath.

"Just sit down before Toji sees this. Consider it a favor, and remember it," Gojo whispered beside your ear, his cerulean eyes locked with Megumi. 

A seemingly calm Megumi could only watch as your face turned blank like a mirror, allowing Gojo to guide you back to your seat, positioning himself across the table from you. Megumi followed close behind and retook his previous seat, now clean from the mess of your rage.

As the plane descended toward Kyoto, a sense of anticipation filled the air, mingling with a touch of nervousness. The engines hummed in a steady rhythm, echoing the rhythm of your own racing heart.

The cabin door swung open, and Toji stepped into the space, emanating a commanding presence. The atmosphere shifted, the weight of his stature palpable. Megumi's eyes redirected to peer out the window avoiding the sight of his father joining them, emotions a mix of surprise and intrigue. 

Toji's gaze met yours, a hint of affection and concern flickering in his eyes. A gentle smile curved his lips, softening his typically stoic expression. There was a glass in his hand, your favorite pineapple sake inside. Toji placed it in front of you with a clink before taking a seat across from you, right beside Satoru.

“It’s your favorite.” Toji encouraged with a toothy grin. “But you need to drink all of it right now .” There was a sudden bump as the plane made contact with the runway, you gasped. The perfect distraction for you to shoot Megumi a glance, one he would recognize as you asking for his opinion . His eyes closed in disdain as he nodded his head to signal yes.

“Thank you so much, Toji...Sensei.”  His cock twitched and you bowed a bit before your hand clasped the glass, you guzzled down the drink as quickly as possible. Before setting it down you caught a glance of a white powder thinly pasted on the bottom.

Fuck, you had finally sobered up off these drugs. The plan was to arrive in Kyoto with a clear head.

Toji's expression turned serious once he saw you break the poker face you’d been upholding so well, his gaze piercing through you. 

"It's a necessary precaution, my dear," he replied, his tone calm yet tinged with an air of secrecy. 

"The substance in the drink will help you calm down and get rest for the activities during our time in Kyoto." Toji rubbed the back of his neck, Megumi just sighed to himself; he really hoped you could handle what you were about to endure.

With remarkable swiftness, the drug took effect, causing your vision to swiftly blur. Toji gently lifted your limp form and settled you in a nearby vehicle, placing your head upon Megumi's lap. However, to Megumi's dismay, Satoru unexpectedly joined the two of you in the backseat. 

The endeavor to carefully arrange your partially unconscious body across the two men within the moving vehicle proved to be more challenging than anticipated, causing a tinge of frustration to seep through their façade.

Just as Megumi began to find solace in the unsettling situation, a grin etched its way across his face as he felt the gentle nuzzling of your head against his lap. Oh, how he yearned to turn back time, to snatch you away from this wicked fate before your innocence could be further violated.

Intermittently, the sound of Toji indulging in his vices, sniffing cocaine, reverberated through the car. Gojo, unable to resist, would occasionally peek up to indulge in a bump himself, prompting Megumi to roll his eyes in exasperation yet deciding to join in.

Lost in his own contemplations, Megumi's fingers tenderly caressed your cheek, his eyes capturing every detail that passed by outside the car's window. Meanwhile, Gojo, seeking his own twisted amusement, dared to explore further. His hand trailed up and down your leg before daringly slipping beneath your dress.

‘Oh, no panties. How delightful.’ Gojo thought, his lip caught between his teeth, his gaze darting between Toji and Megumi to ensure he wasn't caught in the act. Oblivious to the vile scene unfolding, Toji remained engrossed in typing on his laptop, indulging in copious amounts of drugs.

All seemed to progress according to plan until a sweet groan escaped your lips, causing your back to arch involuntarily and your face to scrunch up in pleasure. 

Toji and Megumi's heads whipped around, alarmed to find you still partially unconscious. Satoru, quick and cunning, managed to withdraw his hand just in time to evade detection.

“Maybe i’ll share this little beauty with you if you Fix. The. Problem.” Emphasis stated on those words, but Megumi wasn’t focused on that . 

Instead, his attention diverted to the fact that his father was speaking as if you had no choice; and he knew you didn't , you were going to be going through hell mentally and physically over the next few weeks.

“Yes , Sir.” Megumi cleared his throat after speaking , the car coming to a halt at the front of the manor.

After roughly 15 minutes, the car arrived at its destination, pulling up to imposing gates that concealed most of the grand manor behind them. Despite its remote location, the place was heavily guarded, its 10-foot-tall fencing a testament to the fortifications in place.

In an attempt to rouse you, Megumi pinched at your cheek, desiring your increased alertness as the vehicle approached the opened gate. Swiftly, the gate closed, sealing you within the confines of this mysterious domain.

A muffled protest escaped your lips as Megumi persisted in his efforts to wake you. Toji, deadpan and observant, intervened.

"Knock it the fuck off. I don't think you want her hearing what I'm about to tell you," Toji snapped at Megumi, biting his words with severity as he forcefully closed his laptop.

“The blood analysis I had run on Nobara revealed she was pregnant…early, but knocked up nonetheless. Megumi you should be thanking your lucky goddamn stars that Y/N solved that issue for you, for us.” Toji pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose after sniffing another line, meanwhile, Gojo stared at Megumi with a look of shock on his face.

"The problem is that her mother was aware of the pregnancy, and now their daughter is missing," Toji grumbled in frustration. In Toji's eyes, this presented an opportunity for Megumi to prove his worth and involvement in the family business.

“Maybe i’ll share this little beauty with you if you Fix. The. Problem.” Words emphasized. However, Megumi's attention shifted. He realized his father was disregarding your agency, knowing full well that you had no say in the matter. Mentally and physically, you were destined to endure torment in the coming weeks. 

“Be warned that if you fail, there will be punishment.”

"Yes, Sir," Megumi cleared his throat, acknowledging his father's command, as the car came to a halt at the front of the foreboding manor.

Servants swarmed around the vehicles, attending to your car and the two behind it. Toji , Gojo, and Megumi opened their respective doors, but Toji blocked Megumi from exiting, claiming his own intentions.

"I'll be taking what's mine, son," Toji stated, raising an eyebrow before swiftly lifting you from the car, cradling you in his arms in a bridal fashion. As your drowsy eyes fluttered open, you caught a glimpse of the sun's orange hue before refocusing on Toji.

"We're here, bunny." Toji cooed to you, carrying you inside while disregarding any stray greetings. The air turned noticeably colder as he descended the stairs to the first level of the basement, consciousness wavered in and out, only beginning to fully awaken as you felt the softest blanket beneath your body.

Amidst the commotion, Toji was occupied with instructing others on where to place various suitcases and luggage, oblivious to your awakening. As you sat up as slung your legs over the side of the bed, your eyes widened in astonishment as you surveyed the room around you. 

Toji’s guard wasn’t down in the slightest when he walked over and stood next to the bed, your legs hanging off the bed.

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” Toji laughed after noticing, his thumb moved down to swipe the fluid from your chin and lip. Though he was surprised when your lips obediently parted for him.

"You'll wake up more in a bit," Toji continued, glancing down at his watch. 

"or at least, I hope you do, because we have training to attend to, and it's REALLY gonna suck for you if you can't pay attention, princess." The smirk Toji directed your way started to align with what Megumi had been trying to warn you about.

★・・・★

➜PART 8 ~ COMING SOON

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[astrangetorpedo]

On New Year’s Eve, during a house party at her home in Richmond, Virginia, Lucy Dacus had her fortune told. She thought why not. On a personal level, 2017 had been a wretched year – a steady conveyor belt delivering the 22-year-old bad news.

“This girl, who I didn’t even know, came to the party and gave me this year-long reading,” she explains. “Month-by-month it was so specific. So far, it’s kind of lined up.”

In the past Dacus has been sceptical about the prophetic powers of the tarot card deck, and was taught that the pentacles (coins) were a symbol of Satan. “It’s hard to look to the future and see nothing, to know nothing,” she muses. “I still don’t know what’s going to happen, but having something to have your mind bounce off is nice. That’s why I like tarot. It gives you something to reflect on.”

It’s all part of a fresh way of thinking for Dacus, a new “mood of just trying to be open to new things.” For so many reasons the past year has been one Lucy Dacus is keen to put behind her. “I guess I could just list things,” she says laughing, but not joking. To begin, some of her close family suffered health problems, compounded by her own serious issues including a bout of appendicitis that forced her to have surgery. She was attempting to buy a house for the first time, a process that proved “trying”. Three of her tours got cancelled.

“It was a little bit miserable,” says Dacus, sitting in an east London cafe. “Towards the end of the year, I just had to laugh… Like, come on!”

Interwoven with these practical challenges she was having to navigate something much more troubling. “I got out of a relationship in 2016, which I was waking up from in 2017 – realising that it was abusive,” she begins. “Letting myself say that, it took many months to come out of the numbness… to stop being brainwashed. So, that’s all been a growth. It’s ended up being positive, but it is difficult wondering how I let that be a part of my life for so long.”

Deepening the ordeal, still, this year of personal upheaval was set to the backdrop of Trump’s first 12 months in office. A vociferous supporter of Bernie Sanders through the 2016 election campaign, Dacus is a passionate advocate for equal rights, attending marches and collecting donations for community organisations at her shows. To have Trump sat in the White House representing her country, she says, felt – feels – “horrible”. “It’s just absurd and I feel like I’m in an alternate universe,” she says. “It’s really hard maintaining hope.

“Coming to Europe I’m embarrassed to be an American sometimes, but then I just have to hope that people know that I am not part of Trump. I’ve thought about wearing shirts at the airport – just like ‘not my president’. In little ways I just want to assert that opinion.”

And then there were the disturbing revelations surrounding Harvey Weinstein (and subsequently many other men) revealed in Autumn 2017, that opened out into a global conversation around the abuse and harassment of women.

“It’s been nice coming out of that really terrible relationship during a time when women are speaking up more. It feels like I’m allowed to say these things now,” says Dacus, crediting the #MeToo movement. “All these horrible, heartbreaking stories of women being mistreated are at the forefront but the solace that people are doing what they need in order to find closure and help each other prevent that happening ever again. For one of the first times I’ve been noticing male friends of mine actually examining their past behaviours.”

While there are some early shoots of positivity, the truth is, the culmination of all of these factors left the songwriter dealing with anxiety for the first time. “2017 was a new state of mind for me – and not really in the best way.”

Lucy Dacus was raised in Richmond, Virginia, about two hours south of Washington D.C. on the east coast. It’s a place sometimes described as “the biggest small town left in America.” The family home was in the rural suburbs and she travelled into the city to go to high school. “It’s hard to tell you in one answer how my whole childhood was,” she says. “It’s a large variety of things. Overall, I’m coming out with my thumbs up.”

In her household music was always there. Her mother is a piano teacher, as was her grandmother. Picking up songwriting was never a big deal, like a second language that was spoken around the house. “That’s how music is – like, it’s just part of my life,” she recalls.

Yet the dream of being a professional artist seemed almost so unattainable that it was invisible. In her late teens, Dacus went to college to study film but dropped out, primarily because she’d end up saddled with huge debt. “That, paired with the feeling of being misunderstood in my programme,” she confirms. “I just didn’t have a lot of like minds in my classes.”

That prompted a move back to Virginia where she took a job in a photography lab developing kids’ cheesy school photos. She’d been writing songs in her spare time and gathered nine of the 30-or-so she had together when her friend Jacob Blizard (now her touring guitarist) asked her to record them for his school project. Her 2016 debut album, ‘No Burden’, was made in one day in Nashville. Blizard passed school, and that album received rave reviews. NPR called it “vulnerable”, while Pitchfork said it was an “uncommonly warm indie rock record”. As a result, 20 different record labels reportedly scrabbled to sign Dacus. She settled on Matador, and began to prepare for what should have been a joyful 2017.

The first time Dacus remembers assuming the role of historian she was seven or eight-years-old. She was writing in her journal – and she smiles now recalling her first entry. It complained about how the babysitter spent the whole evening on the phone to her boyfriend. “There’s a point where I realise I’m journaling and so I stop and go, ‘I should probably introduce myself… I’m Lucy’” she laughs, remembering it clearly. “It’s really cute.”

More than a dozen notebooks, and many years later, she still keeps a diary now. Sometimes she writes every day, other times, weeks go by and then she fills 20 pages. Occasionally she flicks open an old one to either “laugh or cringe” at her younger self.

‘Historian’, then, isn’t just the title of her latest album, but also the way she thinks of herself. A chronicler, of her own experiences, but also those around her. Those pages aren’t just a document of a growing maturity, but also a therapeutic habit that helps make sense of many life events, including that recent damaging relationship. “Seeing that it had been broken for the whole time but that I was just oblivious to it, [reading about] it helps to accept that things didn’t change,” she says. “I just saw it for what it was finally, and so perspective is good.”

Those handwritten journals are sacred, which is why, when her tenth one was stolen on tour a few years ago along with a bag of possessions, it was the notebook she replaced first.

The album itself is a recent history – a narrative burrowing through those myriad dark times. Dacus knew that she wanted it to form a complete story, and wrote the track list before some of the songs. “It’s an arc” she says, that begins in a “relatable place” with the only break-up song she’s ever written (‘Night Shift’) that subsequently delves “deeper into darkness.”

“Then the subject matter gets a little more intense,” she tells me, “– going through identity crises, or loss of home, or loss of faith, loss of a loved one, loss of your life. I feel like I’m pulling people into an uncomfortable space.” She pauses. “There’s then a change where hopefully I’m turning on a light and saying, ‘Yes, all of that exists, but it’s a foil to joy.’”

It is an extraordinary piece of work. Musically it’s a colossal step up, reminiscent of recent albums by Mitski (‘Puberty 2’), Angel Olsen (‘My Woman’) and labelmate Julien Baker (‘Turn out the Lights’). The subject matter is heavy, but it’s never a dreary listen. In fact, it’s charming, funny even – like a brave smile emerging through a curtain of tears. And Dacus has a gift for lyric writing; like the eloquent way she pays tribute to the humility shown by her dying grandmother on ‘Pillar of Truth’. From first to final note it’s evocative and powerful. “The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit I had a coughing fit,” goes the LP’s opening line in ‘Night Shift’. “If past you were to meet future me,” she sings on the final line of the closing title track, “would you be holding me now?”

It’s heartening to hear that the contents of Dacus’ NYE tarot reading were largely positive. The forecast noted that she should enjoy the proceeds of her hard work, but that “something horrible happens in the summer, then there’s kind of a rebirth, growing back into, like, life in an even more knowledgeable and peace-oriented way.” Dacus is about to leave, and picks up a bag of books she’s been keeping underneath the cafe table.

“It could be wrong,” she says. “I’m not superstitious. I’m taking it in. When that does happen I hope I can take my own advice – let it be what it is, and look past it eventually

(x) 3/14/18

[mywingsareonwheels]

It is absolutely true that at a time when fascism is terrifyingly on the rise (throughout Europe, and with a hopefully outgoing Tory party here in the UK that crossed the line some while back (plus the growth of Reform who are bewilderingly even worse), and the terrifying possibility of Trump retaking the US in the autumn), everybody else on the political spectrum needs to work together to keep them out.

Even when it means holding your nose and voting for a shithead (my enormous sympathy and respect for those who hate Biden but are still going to vote for him because you live in a state where your vote matters and the greater evil in this case is beyond words; ditto those in Labour target seats in the UK who are going to vote for them on Thursday despite Starmer (and possibly also their prospective MP) being awful); ditto the equivalents of this in so many other countries.

Or even actively working with people whose views are pretty dreadful but who still aren't actually fascists and so really are hugely hugely preferable.

Historically, the willingness or otherwise of non-fascists of all stripes to work together has been entirely crucial to whether or not fascists get power. Over, and over, and over again.

It is however also true that the left (even the only-just-left-of-centre) are somehow expected to make far more compromises and hold our noses far more in working with the centre and centre-right, while they're not put under any pressure to do the same in working with us. We're supposed to suck it up; they're not. And this is stupid and unfair, and fuck the centrist media for continually letting them off the hook.

Both these things are true, and too many countries in the world right now give those of us who want to make the world better far too few good choices when it comes to election time. :(

(Quick reminder though to fellow UK people that here we are allowed to join or donate to a party that isn't the one we're voting for. Building up better parties for the future is also essential. And the GPEW and the Scottish Greens both have targets seats in this election that might want some money thrown their way...)

[fuckinthewholetown]

Fallingforyou - Matty Healy Chapter Two

Chapter two is finally here!!! Thank you all for the support on chapter one, none of the comments made me cry which means I’m clearly doing something right. I’ve tried something a bit different with this one so you finally get some insight into what the hell Matty is doing.

Tags: Angst, slight mentions of smut, swearing

Word Count: 4985

Minors do not interact!!!

Your POV

The UK/Europe leg of the tour was over in a flash, doing a full lap of Europe before you end back where you started, Wembley Stadium. Now, you have three months to relax until you kick off the North American portion of your tour in Arlington, Texas. However, there’s one thing the Lost Atlantis girls don’t know how to do and that’s take a break. Somehow, despite all of your success, you end up in a dingy Premier Inn just North of central London on a random Sunday in the beginning of July.

“If I knew you’d get free tickets to 1975 gigs, I would’ve slid into Ross’s DMs for you years ago.” You say, slicking your hair back into a low ponytail in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

“This is why I was hesitant to tell you, because now you’ve got us dressing up like we’re spy’s.” Maddie says, chuckling as she sticks a skinny black tie around her neck.

“I thought considering you’re shagging a member of the band you’d understand this but I’ll gladly explain it to you again. This is a formal situation, and there’s a dress code. It’s essentially a Matty Healy cosplay competition disguised as a concert.” You reply, exiting the bathroom and doing a spin to show Maddie your entire get up.

“I understand the whole dress code thing, what I don’t understand is why you want to follow it. All you’ve been doing for the last two months is performing and slowly falling into a downwards spiral over Matty hating you. The last thing you want to do is look like him.”

“Maddison, when will you learn? Yes, I am constantly having a mental breakdown over the fact he hates me but my power as a fan girl trumps that any day of the week. I tried getting tickets for this gig and I couldn’t, so now that God has dropped free tickets into my lap I’m going to seize this opportunity.” You respond, sitting down on the rock solid mattress probably worth about a tenner.

“That was an excellent speech, there’s a reason we make you do all the talking.” You both fall into a comfortable silence, doom scrolling until the rest of the girls are ready.

Truth be told, you were putting on a front, acting all excited to see the boys again. And you are, both because you missed them and because you’ve spent the last four years waiting to see The 1975 at Finsbury Park. Despite this, there’s still a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. The thought of seeing Matty again and once again being rejected leaves a lump the size of a golf ball in your throat. Maddie was right, you haven’t been able to enjoy the last two months of tour. Despite traveling Europe with your best mates, performing at some of the biggest stadiums in the world, you’ve only got one thing on your mind at all times. Matty.

How he brushed you off when you first met, the snarky comments made in your direction, the infuriating nickname meant to be a jab as your band name. Despite this, the thing on the forefront of your mind is the hug. You know it was a group hug that he was forced into, and knowing how he acts towards you he would have rather been standing next to anyone else. However, all you’ve been thinking about since you last saw him was the fact the area his fingers touched has been noticeably colder since he pulled away.

You’re quickly pulled out of your shame spiral by what could best be described as an assault on your hotel room door. That means one of two things, either a mob of angry fans have found where you’re staying or the girls are finally finished getting ready. Luckily for you, it’s the second one. You have about 30 minutes until you need to leave so conversation fills the room, with the dulcet sounds of Being Funny in a Foreign Language playing in the background to hype you all up. Final touches are made to hair and makeup and next thing you know, you’re all barrelling out to the streets of London.

Despite not growing up here, London feels like a second home to you. Even though you’ve been on tour most of the time, you’ve lived here since you were eighteen so navigating the streets comes with ease to you. It’s also the one place where no one cares who you are. Everyone’s so focused on themselves, they don’t pay attention to the fact that one of the biggest bands in the world is just casually walking around next to them. It’s an introvert's dream.

You eventually get to the entrance of Finsbury Park, blending in with the thousands of fans wearing the exact same thing as you. You knew these outfits would be a good idea. Bypassing the general admissions entrance, you and the girls walk over to the VIP entrance. Introducing yourselves to the security, you’re quickly escorted through the park towards the side of the main stage.

Before you even see anyone, you hear them. The rowdy conversations echoing in the corridors, long before you even get close to reaching their dressing rooms. You hear him, his laugh as George says something out of pocket. That stupid laugh that you know you’ll never get to hear unless you’re outside the room.

“Hey boys!” Ava says, entering the dressing room and making your presence known. The room erupts with cheers at your arrival. Matty seems happy, until he makes eye contact with you and his smile drops. This is going to be a long day.

When he sees you, George immediately wraps you up in a hug that makes you actively try to keep both your feet on the floor. It’s the kind of hug that makes you forget all of life’s problems. It’s the kind of hug that makes you forget that the man you’ve dreamt about since you were sixteen is currently sitting in the corner giving you a look that could burn through your scalp.

“Todays gonna be a good day, pretty girl! We’re performing at fucking Finsbury Park! I know that’s not a big deal to miss ‘I casually play Wembley Stadium’ but it’s a big deal to us.” He says, slowly putting you down. You chuckle at his slight dig at you, knowing full well he means no harm.

“Oh George, I love how you’re always here to remind me how much more successful than you I am.” You laugh, playing into the egotistical role he’s forced you into, “but seriously, this is gonna be one hell of a gig. I had tickets back for the 2020 show, but that damn covid ruined all my dreams.”

“I always forget you’re a fan. Like, it’s so weird to imagine you just casually listening to our music before you win a Grammy.” He says, sitting down on the edge of a chair and pouring a glass of water.

“I don’t listen to music before a gig, it stresses me out too much. But you know what I make sure I do before every show? Cleanse the space.” You say, pulling out a stick of incense from your bag. George gives you an apprehensive look, clearly not buying into the hippie shit you know and love. “Come on, it can’t hurt. It’s won us 2 Grammys for album of the year. You can argue with that logic.”

“Fine, but if Matty shits himself on stage it’s on you and your incense.” He laughs, holding out his lighter. You go around the room, getting some weird stares from some and knowing stares off the girls.

“Hey, don’t knock it. She forgot to do it before a show once and the sound system stopped working halfway through and a rogue pyro burnt me and I ended up in A&E at 3am. That shit works!” Moon yelled, somehow making herself louder than the countless conversations that we’re going on at the time.

Then you got to Matty, who’s been side eyeing you the entire time you’ve been walking around the room. You make sure to linger in his area for longer than the rest, aggressively cleansing him of any negative energy.

“This is the biggest gig of your life and yet I’m getting a lot of negative energy from you. Might wanna fix that before the show.” You say, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He scoffs, you instinctively roll your eyes as the horrendous nickname before walking off towards the rest of the group.

Luckily, you could ignore the side eyes and the snarky comments by supporting all your friends. The highlight of your day being The Bleachers. You’ve known Jack and the rest of the band for years, almost as long as you’ve been in the industry, so seeing fifty thousand people yell the lyrics to their songs makes your heart swell with pride. However, nothing will beat hearing the entire crowd chant the name of Mattys mum. Knowing the entire audience is secretly there for Denise, makes you and the rest of the girls burst out with laughter.

Before the boys go on stage, you meet them all at the side. Giving each of them a hug and your best wishes for the show. You can’t hide it, your inner fan girl starts coming out at this point. You go up to Matty, trying to create some element of peace.

“Do me a favour and play Love Me?” You say, a glint of a smile on your face. He doesn’t return the favour.

“In your dreams, Princess.” He responds, before walking off to do some final preparations before heading on stage.

However, you could forget all about this when you hear the first few notes of The 1975 from Being Funny in a Foreign Language. All of a sudden, you’re no longer the lead singer of a world famous band. You’re just a girl, standing in London, watching her favourite band perform her favourite songs. All your problems wash away, and you get absorbed by the charismatic nature of Matty.

Every so often, you’d catch the eye of one of the people on stage. Throwing up a heart to Polly, blowing a kiss to George, and giving Hann an enthusiastic thumbs up. That’s until you meet eyes with Matty. Not sure what to do, you stand there staring at him. A mischievous grin falls upon his face, a smirk that’s going to haunt your dreams. And also, the first bit of actual emotion he’s shown you. You’re unsure what to think of this, until the end of Happiness comes around.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He says into his mic, despite putting on an act his charisma is palpable. No wonder you fell for the act. “Welcome to The 1975 At Their Very Best! Now normally, we don’t take requests this early on. Especially not from blonde bimbos who think crystals do shit. However this songs a banger and you all deserve it!”

You know what’s coming next, however it’s still whiplash hearing the opening notes to Love Me. You’re not sure how to feel. On one hand, they’re playing one of your favourite songs. On the other hand, the man who you’ve considered to be your musical inspiration just called you a blonde bimbo on stage. Clearly, you’re not hiding your disappointment as well as you thought you were as you feel Maddies arms snake around your waist.

“You good?” She whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m great.”

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch. If you ignore the comment Matty made early on in the show, you’d go as far as to say it’s the best gig you’ve ever been to. Tim Healy singing All You Need To Hear, About You with Carly at golden hour, Be My Mistake. It’s a show teenage you would’ve dreamt of seeing.

You head backstage after the show, the energy from everyone is radiant and even Matty can’t keep up his stoic demeanor. Annoyingly, his smile lights up the room and you find yourself feeling things you haven’t felt since you were in your peak tumblr days. These feelings quickly get diminished when you realise that everytime he looks at you, the light behind his eyes dwindles.

All of your fears are washed away when you hear the familiar voice of Charli. You first met six years ago, when she opened for your band on the UK/Europe leg of your second world tour. You’ve stayed close friends since, however both of your busy schedules have kept you apart. You spot her, realising she’s mid conversation with Matty and George. Deciding to talk to her later, you turn to look for one of your bandmates however fate has other plans.

“Holy shit, come over here you sexy, blonde bitch!” She yells, dragging you over to join the conversation. She pulls you into a hug that rivals George’s from earlier in the day.

“Damn, I forgot you two know each other. Don’t know how, Charli constantly reminds me that she’d leave me for you in a heartbeat.” George laughs, handing you another drink.

“I have that effect, the girlies love me.” You reply, taking the drink off George and winking at Charli. Matty scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Matty responds, taking a sip of his drink to muffle what he was saying. It doesn’t work, silence falls over the group. The silence is palpable, until someone decides to play Boom Clap over the speakers and the group erupts into laughter.

You can’t help but feel guilty for bringing the mood down backstage. You know it’s him who started this, but you play into it. When Ava comes over to you to inform you that everyone’s going to a local bar, you decide to opt out of it. Using the excuse that you’re tired after a long day and you just want to go back to the hotel to sleep. Once you get back, the silence envelops you. You realise it’s the first time you’ve heard nothing all day. Before you knew it, tears started rolling down your face. Over analysing the day's events didn’t help. Every comment, every look, everything he’s done towards you crosses your mind, and the more you think about it the more tears stream down your face.

You did not expect sobbing in a Premier Inn to be how you end your day.

Mattys POV

The 1975 at Finsbury Park has been a long time coming, getting canceled due to Covid when it was first announced. He’s waited for years for this moment, and it’s finally arrived. He’s sat in the dressing room with the rest of the band, conversations about who knows what are flowing. The adrenaline in the room makes everyone unusually talkative.

“I’m just saying, would we be as successful if we were worms?” George said, with the most deadpan look on his face. The room erupts into laughter, joy that is only boosted when five unexpected guests walk into the room.

“Hey boys!” The drummer of Lost Atlantis, Ava Fletcher, yells over the roaring conversation. It’s all fun and games until he spots her. They’re all dressed in their best 1975 concert attire, dressed in different variations of his suit getup. It’s her outfit that catches his eye first though. Opting for a short sleeved shirt and a mini skirt that perfectly frames her body. Her blonde, curly hair pulled up into a low ponytail. She looks annoyingly beautiful.

His face drops instinctively when he sees her, refusing to have any feelings that may give his thoughts away. He recognises the disappointment on her face, and he knows it’s his fault. He can’t help but feel guilty, knowing he’s the reason she never truly has a real smile when she’s around them. Yet he’s not sure why he does it, maybe it’s because he’s been hurt by women like her before, maybe he’s afraid of rejection. Who knows?

He can pinpoint the exact moment these feelings started, he was on a night out with the boys when Ross pulled up a video on his phone. It was a video of a girl, clearly pissed out of her mind, singing the ending of Robbers. Ross informs them it’s the lead singer of Lost Atlantis, who’s apparently been very open about being a fan for years now. However, for some unknown reason he’s never seen her face. Even drunk, she’s beautiful. The way her curls perfectly frame her face, the makeup that’s clearly been smudged by a night of drunken antics, the dress that perfectly frames her figure. She’s everything and more.

Despite acting cold towards her, the secret looks still brings a smile to his face. Watching her interact with his boys as if she’s been a member of their inner circle for years. Watching her perform at Wembley, like she was made for that stage, hiding her fear with bravado and excellent stage presence. He’s never met anyone like her.

After sitting in the corner for what feels like hours, she finally walks over to him holding a stick of incense. He’s never brought into any of that shit, but when she does it it’s weirdly endearing. The fact that she’s so set in her belief system, it just makes her more beautiful.

She stays near to him for longer than she does elsewhere, giving him the opportunity to bask in his presence for a second longer. Her perfume envelops him, luring him further down the rabbit hole. She aggressively incenses the area he’s sitting.

“This is the biggest gig of your life and yet I’m getting a lot of negative energy from you.” She says, her voice acting like a siren luring him in and yet he continues to walk to the other way. “You might wanna fix that before the show.” She continues, almost at a whisper. Without warning, his trousers suddenly become two sizes too small. If she keeps acting like this, it’s going to be a very long day for him.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He responds, clearing his throat to try and hide any arousal that the previous comment caused. Rolling her eyes in response, he can’t help but let the intrusive thoughts roll over his mind. The thought of him being the reason she’s rolling her eyes, but instead of it being out of frustration it’s when she’s lying naked underneath him. Now his trousers are three sizes too small. He watches as she struts away from him, going back into idle conversation with the rest of the boys.

He tries his hardest to ignore her the rest of the day, which is an impossible feat when she’s so unknowingly beautiful. Watching as she jumps around to The Bleachers, or whooping and cheering George on as he steps on as drummer for The Japanese House. She’s always there, just in the corner of his eyes. He knows he hasn’t had a great life, but this is a cruel act even for God.

Despite this, he manages to pull himself together by the time he needs to get on stage. Standing in the wings, silently hyping himself up, he’s joined by the rest of the band as well as the Lost Atlantis girls. They’re wrapped up in hugs, which he reciprocates for most members of the band. Before he knew it, she was standing in front of him like a sight out of a dream.

“Do me a favour and play Love Me?” She says, a smile on her face, the only smile he’ll get from her for a while. That damn smile.

“In your dreams, Princess.” He responds, knowing full well they were already planning on playing it early on in the set. The thought that maybe he’d get to see her enthusiastic reaction is the only reason he can justify his response.

He stands behind the door at the back of the stage, reveling in the cheers from fifty thousand fans standing in the field before him. The adrenaline is enough to forget everything around him, he’s no longer a love struck boy from Manchester, he’s a performer ready to put on one hell of a show for the fans who have traveled far and wide to see them.

The opening notes of The 1975 blares over the sound system, somehow still quieter than the screaming fans. He looks out, reveling in the moment of fifty thousand fans screaming along the lyrics he wrote. He also notices how she reacts to making eye contact with other members of the band. Throwing a heart up to Polly, blowing a kiss to George, and meeting his stare with a deadpan expression and quickly looking away.

The first three songs are over in a flash, and before he knows it it’s time to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to The 1975 At Their Very Best! Now normally, we don’t take requests this early on. Especially not from blonde bimbos who think crystals do shit. However this songs a banger and you all deserve it!”

He’s not sure why he says it, it just slips out. This whole hating thing is way too easy to fall into. It doesn’t make seeing the look on her face any easier. The way her smile drops at what she hears is heartbreaking, turning a moment of joy into something she’ll have nightmares about. He knows the bimbo label has tormented her on the internet over the years, but he guesses hearing it on stage come from someone she’s been a fan of for years affects her differently than when it’s coming from an anonymous journalist.

He manages to put this at the back of his mind as the show goes on. And he can’t deny, despite some hiccups the show goes amazingly. Bringing his dad out for All I Need To Hear cemented this show as one for the history books, getting deservedly emotional over how far they’ve come since they were 12 playing in his mum's garage. He occasionally looks to the side of the stage, hoping to catch her eye but it never happens, either catching her eye at the wrong moment or she’s refusing to look at him for the rest of the show.

Once the show’s over, they all head backstage for a post show party. He’s dragged around left, right, and center, forced to take part in some of the most mind numbing and repetitive conversations known to man. That is, until he’s saved by George and Charli. He’d much rather be a third wheel than have corporate conversations with sleazy businessmen trying to profit off his success.

He’s too distracted to take part in the conversation though, his eyes constantly finding the cheery, blonde figure in the room. Her smile emits a light source, drawing everyone towards her including Matty. His feelings are only heightened when Charli calls her over.

“Holy shit, come over here you sexy, blonde bitch!” Charli yells, grabbing her by the forearm and dragging her over to the group and pulling her into a hug. He forgot that they knew each other, making his situation ten times more awkward.

“Damn, I forgot you two know each other. Don’t know how, Charli constantly reminds me that she’d leave me for you in a heartbeat.” George chuckles, handing her a drink that he ,not so sneakily, puts extra alcohol in.

“I have that effect, the girlies love me.” She says, looking at Charli and winking at her. A soft groan escapes his lips that he manages to cover with a cough.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He responds, taking a sip of his drink to calm him down. An awkward silence falls over the group, no one really sure what to say in response. Luckily, someone starts blaring Boom Clap over the speakers, causing an annoyed groan to come from Charli before she starts loudly exclaiming how the song was a quote unquote “mistake”.

He jumps at the opportunity when Hann asks if he’s coming out with the rest of them to a local bar. However, when they get there he notices one person is missing from the group.

“Hey, um where’s your little friend gone?” He says to the four remaining members of Lost Atlantis.

“She’s gone back to the hotel.” Maddi responds, clearly annoyed. “She claims she’s tired, but I think it has something to do with the fact an egotistical asshole called her a blonde bimbo on stage.” A look of regret floods his eyes, he knew it would affect her but he didn’t think it would be that bad.

“Look, I'm sorry but,” he starts talking but is quickly cut off.

“We don’t care about how sorry you are, Matty. We just wanna know why you did it? You’ve been an ass to her ever since the Wembley show. She’s been nothing but nice to you, and you’ve responded by being a childish dick head.” Ava snaps, giving him a glare that resembles daggers.

“You’re in a band as well, I’m sure you understand why we’re being so protective. But whenever she’s around you, she isn’t herself and we’re not losing her over some petty grudge you hold for god knows what reason.” Moon follows up, not giving Matty enough time to respond.

“Disrespectfully, but we’ve lost all respect for you after the bimbo incident, so fuck off and leave us alone for the rest of the night.” Maddie continues, walking off before he could say anything. He walks over to a booth in the corner of the bar, cradling his drink and thinking how he’s going to grovel at her feet the next time he sees her. This self pity spiral is quickly ruined when Sienna Turner walks over and sits down next to him.

“I know why you’re acting like this.” She says, giving him a sympathetic look. “I get it, I don’t agree with the way you’re doing it, but I get it.” The confusion is obvious on his face, unsure of what the hell she is on about. “You like her, trust me I totally understand. She’s a total smoke show, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my best mate. And I get that you probably have commitment issues, you’re not the first rock star I’ve met, but being a little bitch and calling her a bimbo on stage is not the way to cope with it. You’re just getting a one way ticket into us five shunning you, and that wouldn’t be fun for you because as long as Maddie and Ross are sleeping about you’re stuck with us.” She finishes, leaving the two of them in a comfortable silence.

“I’ve been hurt before.” He starts, unsure of why he’s spilling his secrets to who is essentially a stranger but he continues anyway. “And when I first saw that video of her, drunk and singing along to Robbers, I was smitten. But I never expected to meet her in real life, I mean you girls are stars and we’re just four men in our thirties. So when I did, I panicked. I mean, she’s somehow even more beautiful in real life than she is in that video.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink to collect his thoughts. “You know flight or fight? My response was to be a dick, and now I’ve pushed her away and she thinks I’m an asshole which I guess I am after what I said today. It’s probably for the best, your songs are amazing but those breakup songs are brutal. I think I’d have to go into hiding if one was written about me.” He laughs, making eye contact with Sienna for the first time since the conversation started.

“I’m going to give you some advice, and don’t take this as me liking you, I’m doing it for the beautiful woman who we need to be as mentally healthy as possible because she pays my rent. She’s been hurt by men before, and I’ve just sat back and let it happen but I’m not going to do that again. Despite everything that’s gone down in the last couple of months, I want to believe that you are a good person. However you need to prove that and apologise. I know it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable, but you will do whatever it takes to make her forgive you. I don’t care if you have to get on your knees and beg, next time you see her you will be a groveling little bitch.” She says, with the most serious expression on her face. He knows she isn’t joking, those girls are protective over each other and will fight heaven and earth to make sure each other is safe.

“To being a groveling little bitch.” He says, holding up his drink for a cheers. Sienna clinks her glass with his, giving him a small yet comforting smile.

As harsh as it was, he needed that reality check. And not from someone who was close to him, but from a stranger who doesn’t care about his feelings. Sienna was right, he can’t keep hurting the people around him just because he has been hurt before.

He goes back to his apartment, ready to start planning the best apology ever given. But he doesn’t know where to start, considering he writes songs for a living he can’t seem to find the right words to explain how he’s feeling without exposing all of his feelings. He decides to give up, closing his laptop and falling into his bed. Letting sleep take over him as images of her flashes in his mind.

[acourtofthought]

I'm not sure why someone found it necessary to send an anon to an Elucien telling them to enjoy Azriel's book which is next especially as this particular Elucien is extremely unproblematic.

The common refrain is that Az had a lot of buildup in SF and HOFAS and therefore he is next for that fact. But since when does recent buildup trump everything else? I'm not saying Az can't be next but erasing the years upon years of Sarah J Maas of laying the groundwork for others characters simply because some only pay attention to the most recent book is ignoring all the effort the author has put into this series as a whole.

I disagree with those who claim Elain didn't have a lot of setup in SF, in my opinion she had MORE than Az because we have her showing teeth, we have her offering to do something dangerous, we have her standing up for herself, we have the reminder that her powers are still unexplored (something we know happens in a FMC own book), we have the hints that she'll end up in Spring, we saw Nesta "releasing" Elain's wooden rose into the world after being unsure why she placed it next to a figure of a goddess, (whereas the only real buildup Az had was us learning he's mad he didn't get a bond in the bonus and that his powers are a mystery to us) but regardless of how much she had or didn't have, it doesn't actually matter.

"Because I knew so early on while j was finishing up Mist and Fury and working on ACOWAR... Because I knew where I wanted things to go this allowed me to plant things for her journey and even Elain's journey early on"

Sarah confirmed she already setup Elain's journey early on, while writing books 2 and 3. We also see hints for Elain in the novella.

I found many clues in SF for her story but a character does not need 4 books of buildup to have a main pov. She's not going to give true main character energy until she's actually a main character.

I'm not sure why so many hold SF as the book with all the clues when there are multiple books that came before, when the author herself confirmed she hid Elain's future journey in those books, when she also said the novella sets up for the future of the spin-offs (a novella where the sisters, Mor and Lucien were Feyre's primary concern, not Az).

Since then Sarah said SF expanded the world and HOFAS sets up for future ACOTAR books but again, that doesn't erase what was said in the past, it doesn't erase that she first said the novella setups up for the spin-offs, it simply adds on to it all to create a bigger picture and a way for her to continue this series well beyond the initial spin-offs she's pitched, possibly her hinting at the newest series she recently got signed for.

These are the statements she's made over the years (in order):

"What plans I had for Elain, and Mor, and Az" (Az being mentioned last). "Because I knew so early on while j was finishing up Mist and Fury and working on ACOWAR... Because I knew where I wanted things to go this allowed me to plant things for her journey and even Elain's journey early on"

It was around this time she also said, in another interview, that she knew who she wanted to write about for the first two but was considering a book set in the past for the third.

"My initial plans that I pitched for the spin-offs haven''t changed, the world just expanded."

I do think Sarah realized while writing SF that she would be giving Az his own book but she also presented the idea for another series which she got signed on for and that series could possibly be the one she's exploring Az's romance and the Valkyrie storyline in. We just don't know right now. And yes, it was Az's journey she spoke about being excited to write about in an IG live in 2021 because she was being asked directly about Az. That doesn't erase what she volunteered about Elain's journey in 2016 / 2017 and beyond (the clues for Elain's story being laid out early on was in a 2021 Live Talks LA interview), that doesn't erase what she spoke about in the interview printed in special copies of the novella on how she had already done research on Elain's book, that doesn't erase the clues she left for Lucien's story many books before she began leaving hints for Az. It's ok to think Az is next but to act so cocky to Elucien's when Sarah confirmed in MULTIPLE interviews that Elain's journey had been decided long before SF, when she added those crumbs early on for it? It doesn't make sense. SF or HOFAS (a book in an entirely different series) don't need to be about Elain's journey since we've known since ACOWAR and beyond where she's headed and the plots she'll be involved with. I have never seen anybody use the argument that a character needs multiple books of buildup in order to have their own story until it involves Gwyn from anti's or Elain from anti's and that's ignoring how Elain HAS had multiple books of buildup.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

feyre 'stans' (*cough* feysand stans) have such an interesting relationship with feyre - where, they can't decide whether to view feyre as a full-fledged adult or little more than a child. bc its like - if you always view feyre as a victim of her circumstances, then she's not an active, morally ambiguous character. or - they don't actually view her as an actual character, rather, an easy extension of rhys that can be projected into. im inspired by this video again, and specifically the discussions about rhysand's ability to see feyre as an equal - or even just an individual person.

like in the case of silver flames, feyre 'stans' often try to validate rhysand's actions, by affirming that he's 'just standing up for feyre..'

and you could argue that - but feyre has already established on multiple occasions that she feels uncomfortable with the way rhys decides to 'stand-up' for her in regards to her sisters. and when confronted with this - rhysand immediately assumes that feyre will (1) forgive him and (2) have sex with him. its a moment of complete insanity - where rhysand doesn't even believe that his constant lack of boundary actually entails serious consequences. thats not a man whose actually concerned abt feyre's opinions, or actually hurting feyre. he'd rather openly trigger feyre at that dinner table, then actually respect and take a step back. but to argue that rhysand's behavior is okay even when feyre doesn't believe means that you guys don't actually view her decisions to be confidently her own. bc the emphasis is always geared towards validating the actions rhysand takes, and not feyre's opinions on the matter. there's a difference between giving feyre this 'power' and giving feyre the tools and information needed to actually wield that power. there's a difference between rhys disliking nesta or elain treating them as he sees fit v. rhys disliking nesta, but giving feyre the space she needs to deal with them, and respecting the boundary she has clearly reiterated in regards to how he should treat and interact with them.

and its like these are the moments where we see parallels with what the story argues about tamlin - where his way of 'protecting' was uncomfortable towards feyre, and she establishes that she doesn't want to be protected in that way. and we get something similar in maf where feyre literally gets into an argument with rhys bc she established that his behavior with keir was unacceptable. but even when feyre stans see that - they still rush to validate rhysand's behavior. and its like we get multiple instances where rhys will often just take measures within his own hands, and the argument is never about how wrong it is that he does - but that his intentions trump feyre's opinion; specifically when rhysand goes behind feyre's back to make a diplomatic decision with keir and eris and does not tell feyre (and mor) bc he knows they will disagree. that is not the decision of a man who actually values the existence of a co-ruler. or even the decision to tell another high lord the complications of feyre's pregnancy but NOT THE WOMEN GIVING BIRTH to said child. even when faced with the absolute certainty of her death (feyre is almost guaranteed to die) he still doesn't even loop her in. and its important bc feyre is going to die. there's no argument, so the idea of 'stress' makes no sense bc she's going to die. the story is very blunt about it.

but AGAIN feyre established 'no more secrets.' she also established that she wants to always be kept in the loop (even if someone deems xyz dangerous; that was literally the entire point of feyre's mental breakdown. she didn't care that going with tamlin could cause her harm, she wants to make the decision). you see how even though tamlin believes its unsafe (and ig it is) its not his decision, and the emphasis is put on feyre's opinion and not tamlin's intentions? why aren't we keeping this same energy, like ever.

and that's the ick part - even if rhys hates nesta. even if we argue that nesta 'was abusive' - feyre has established that she (1) doesn't want rhysand to speak about them or to them disrespectfully (2) that she does not approve of his behavior. (3) that she always wants to be informed on everything. she also laments that her worst fear being deemed 'not enough' or 'not useful' which one of the leading reason she decides to go with tamlin at the end of maf - she didn't believe she was useful. that rhysand can consistently prove that he doesn't believe feyre to be unworthy of information regarding her own body, court and family should be a slap in the face to be people who claim to 'love only her.'

and yet - when confronted with rhysand's behavior (both in previous books and the last) the race is to validate his behavior and not feyre's opinions. so everytime time 'feyre stans' present an argument thats geared toward validating rhysand's actions and not the boundaries that feyre established. side eye.

either feyre is an adult, who is old enough to rule a nation, have a child, and have her own opnions. or she's little more than a child who needs certain decisions made for her bc y'all disagree with them. or she's person capable of making mistakes, having flaws, and actually making conscious (morally ambiguous) decisions that we the audience can agree or disagree with. we can't argue that she an eternal victim of every circumstance, while denying her agency in moments where she's actually the victim. or argue that she morally grey and complex and then justify the behavior and combat when people might have differing opinions. as is the point of being a morally grey character.

i think we need to do away with 'morally-grey' as a descriptor. or it needs to be expounded on in a meaningful way. being morally ambiguous means we should look closer into the actions of the character, because often how they chose to solve their problems says something about them. im just tired of 'morally-grey' used as the justification of an action, instead of a conversation starter.

[qqueenofhades]

Sure, Mitch McConnell is evil. But I think progressives thrilled about his demise aren't considering the fact that right now he's pretty much the only person keeping the Senate Republican conference from turning into the House Republican conference. Like, yeah, he's a piece of shit who stole a supreme court seat, but he can keep the rightest of right flanks mostly under control. I don't know if potential future GOP Leader John Thune could do the same.

Look, I'm not going to call it thrilled, at least for me. He's an old man, he presumably has people (uh, somewhere) who love him, and if he loved them back, or anything more than power, he might retire to be with them and/or do something more appropriate for an 81-year-old man who clearly is not well. But as it is, he has spent 30 years being one of the worst impediments to progress in this whole country, he stole not one but THREE SCOTUS seats (or at least maneuvered in very, very bad faith to get them) and managed to install the current nightmare court that is stripping protections for women, workers/labor rights, LGBTQ people, health care, immigrants, the environment, anyone who doesn't want to get murdered by a gun, democracy, etc. etc. left and right. I have no sympathy for him, I will not be pretending sympathy for him, I don't think anyone else should be obliged to either, and his overall public legacy is one of absolutely damning and devastating damage. Fuck him.

Nor am I a believer in the "we should accept this terrible person because the next terrible person might be worse!" McConnell might not be an open raving MAGA conspiracy theorist, but he has never, not once, done the right thing and put principle over power. He might have personally loathed Trump; he still took full advantage of him to pack the courts with far-right Federalist Society hacks who will likewise damage the judiciary for the duration of their lifetime. He vigorously condemned Trump for January 6 and then immediately voted not to convict him for it. McConnell seems "reasonable" only because he can stand in public and not spew insane QAnon election conspiracy batshit theocratic nonsense, but once again: nobody except for Trump did more than him to fuck this country up, and he was and is very good at it. I'm honestly fine with his demise leaving a power vacuum that will impel the Republicans to spend so much time fighting each other that they might for once actually break the rigid ideological lockstep that McConnell maintained over all of them. Which was, as noted, precisely in support of Trump all the time. Don't let the fact that McConnell is able to masquerade as an establishment politician fool you. He is possibly even more toxic than the Josh Hawley and Ted Cruz GOP losers of the Senate, who talk an endless stream of idiocy and do little. McConnell says relatively little and does the most evil things of all.

Anyway, yes. Fuck him, fuck the things he's done, fuck the Republicans, and let them fight. It will be another mess to appoint his successor, it will make them even more toxic and extreme to the general electorate, and since they need to be burned to the ground and salted in the ashes before we should even think about giving them power again (not that this will happen, because MURKA), frankly, in the end, this is exactly what McConnell deserves.

[usernamesarehard1]

I am so afraid of Republicans taking positions of power in the US right now. I am so afraid of a Trump presidency

I just want to be able to live my life as a queer person.

I want to be able to be "out and proud". To go to pride parades, to open queer cafes, to marry someone of my same gender, to adopt children with them, to build a career making lgbt media (like books, TV, etc)

to be able to just wear pride flag pins on my backpack.

It feels like my entire life is going to be uprooted if project 2025 happens.

Project 2025 wants to make all forms of public discussions/displays/etc of lgbt+ identities and relationships an illegal sex crime and put all "perpetrators" on the list of sex offenders

I am so fucking scared to live in my own country.

I always knew america had its problems, it's disgusting past and bigotry that still lingers from it today.

But i never hated this country, because I knew it had been improving. That people had been fighting for their rights for hundreds of years and I was privileged enough to live in a time when things were so much better.

I was never AFRAID of this country.

Now I am

THIS is the America Republicans and conservatives want to "go back to". What they want to "conserve". What they think will "make America great again"

Criminalizing the very existence of people who go against their religion.

This is not an exaggeration.

THIS IS FUCKING TERRIFYING

I just want to do something to fight for my rights but I can't. I feel so fucking helpless.

My rights, my life, my liberty, my pursuit of happiness, depends on who other people people vote for. What fate allo-cishet people sentence me to.

I don't know what to do.

[alpaca-clouds]

Thinking about Power Fantasies and Wishfullfillment

I am thinking about Wishfullfillment and Power Fantasies a lot recently. Mostly because someone has shamed me for writing exactly that. Power Fantasies. Or, let's be more honest, for me writing a rather unusual kind of Power Fantasy. The one, where the power that I fantasize about is not a physical, violent power.

Technically speaking, there are technically like two acceptable types of Power Fantasy within fiction:

Punch real good and get to punch all the bad guys.

Get the hot gal/hot guy.

Genre fiction is usually where this can be found - and yeah, it always is a variation of this. Generally media that is focused more on a male audience will usually go more for the "get to punch stuff real good" power fantasy, while maybe putting in a little "hot gal" for the visuals. Meanwhile, a lot of media focused on a female audience, will focus on "get the hot guy (and fix him)" as the power fantasy, with maybe a bit of "get good at punching". (And yes, this has less to do with "what gets written", but more with "what gets published/made into movies/films/games by big publishers/studios".)

What is noticable about it: Obviously for the most part the romantic power fantasies are very much heteronormative. And yes, the other part of the power fantasy is almost always about physical violence, and about being the strongest, and most influencial person there is.

And here is the thing: That is not really the power I fantasize about. I do not want to use violence to kill the bad guy real good. Sure, if someone handed me a Death Note, you'll bet, that I would see what would happen if I noted down "Elon Musk" and "Donald Trump". But in general it is not the kind of power I would want.

My power fantasy is "to be able to talk people into being fucking reasonable for once". Or rather: "Be able to talk and have people just listen, gods darn it." Which is, yeah, why ever since I started playing TTRPGs more than half my life ago, I had the tendency to play the charisma heavy classes. And which also is the reason why my DnD standard class is the bard.

So, yes, whenever I currently write about my BG3 Tav and he is talking sense into some BBEGs (like Gorts, or Emps) and stuff... Yeah, that is very much my own sort of power fantasy. Just as his "I am gonna make friends with everyone" is very much a power fantasy of mine.

Again, there is a reason for me to play bard.

Yet, a former friend wrote a whole ass essay shaming me for it and how unrealistic it was and how the character "forced his morals" on everyone else. (All my questions on how the person's own characters killing their villains were not forcing their morals on said villains were ignored.) And it created a whole ass discussion, where even more folks then kept shaming me about this - and about my love for Solarpunk with worlds, in which again the world is actually a peaceful one.

And... I think this is really sad, right?

Like, how is it that the only viable variations of writing power fantasies seem to be "violence" or "get to have straight sex"? I find it especially kinda sad, that violence especially is the thing people can fantasize about and it is considered "normal".

Sure, you can say: "Well, some forum discussion is not saying much." But something that I keep thinking about: "Well, I am writing those stories for myself, because there is not a whole lot of that avaible in media." Because most mass media is about characters punching real good and then punching their problems. Sure, I can think of a couple of animated kids media in which the BBEG is in fact defeated by words. Steven Universe comes to mind. And, I mean, ATLA kinda tried, though they still needed to have the big bad battle in the end. But in general it really is the exception to the rule.

Mass media tends to focus on violence to tell stories. Alternatives to it are rarely even considered. If you look at the blockbusters and what not, pretty much all involve a finale that does centrally feature a fight or battle.

Yet, especially in terms of movies I cannot think of a single one, where the main character goes in there: "Okay, bad guy, let's just talk about this", and then does exactly that.

And the same goes about the worldbuilding. Why (outside of the normatilization of the entire "western narratives" thing) do so many people struggle with the idea of a Solarpunk world, where the world itself is fine? Why do they struggle to imagine a utopia where there is no sinister plot hiding and Soylent Green is in fact not people? Why do they actually get super angry at you, when you write stories like that?

Because it is so fucking normalized.

But, like... How is it that you can write a wishfulfillment world where the wishfulfillment is based around how very much at war everyone is - just so that the MCs can be the biggest, most badass heroes there are! Why shouldn't people be able to write a wishfulfillment world, where the wishfulfillment is actually that the world is nice and peaceful and the heroes are just really good at science and politics?

And let's face it: This is very much all about capitalism. It is very much about having a very strange relationship to both violence and anti-violence. And... Yeah, no, we need to move past that.

So, that said? I am going back to writing self-indugent power fantasies about my dumb bard going around, talking people into joining the good side for hugs and cookies, and also having a lot of queer sex. *coughs*