#me presenting my Matty Healy archive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drinkurkombucha · 3 years

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A list of my fics

Here’ s a list of my past/current fics. I’ll keep this updated as I keep writing. Also, got writing prompts? Throw them in my ask box. I love writing about these idiots, so feed me inspiration. Thanks.

Living with George: Complete. (The sequel to Talking to George that no one asked for. Stupid humour, angst and lols.) Time has passed since the events of Talking to George. Matty is no longer a struggling musician and things are going great for him (for once). His career is flourishing and things with George couldn’t be better. Life in 36C is almost perfect (bar Hann hogging the bathroom). But when Ross moves back in unexpectedly and talk turns to relationships, Matty realises that he needs more from George. A LOT more. There’s just one problem: George doesn’t seem too keen on the idea… [ READ HERE ]

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Kairos: Complete. (Complete and utter smut. Gratty.) Matty reminds him of one of those people you spot walking down the street – the kind of people that stand out in a crowd. The kind of people that just glow. Because that’s the thing: well-fucked people glow differently. You can spot them a mile away. They emanate this energy of being so comfortable in their own skin that absolutely nothing can phase them. Ross wants what Matty and George have. Ross wants to glow... [ READ HERE ]

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Apodyopsis: Complete. (A YNA/YFL short) It's just before Christmas and Matty has the perfect present planned for George. [ READ HERE ]

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Give Yourself a Try: Complete. (A sequel of sorts to Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction. Complete and utter meta madness in collaboration with @vinylandcoffeecollection.) Matty and George never really saw themselves as consumers of Gatty fic, let alone celebrated covert Gatty writers on Ao3. But they’ve surprised themselves by how much they love writing about themselves (and re-enacting their favourite Gatty scenes in the bedroom, and the studio, and outside… ). The only problem is – nobody seems to be writing anything new for them to roleplay. After Matty has a very sexy, very autosexual dream one night, they decide to take matters into their own hands. How far can they push the boundaries of art and reality without their brains (and their bits) imploding in the process? [ READ HERE ]

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Catharsis: Complete. (A Dom George short fic) George has a secret and Matty is obsessed. [READ HERE]

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The Birthday Party Complete. (A smutty oneshot)

In an alternate timeline he is kissing you.

Matty is hiding from the crowds at a surprise party when he meets a stranger called George. [READ HERE]

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Your Fractured Light: Complete. (Artist Matty returns, part 2 of 2.) It’s been two years since the events of Your New Aesthetic and things have changed for George. Like, really changed. A best-selling author, he’s just signed a three-book deal and he’s riding high on the success of his debut novel. Despite this, George is still struggling. He’s been trying hard to shake off the ghost of his last relationship, but when Matty makes a very unexpected appearance back in his life, George starts to realise that Matthew Healy is not someone you can just forget. [READ HERE]

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Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction: Complete. (Ridiculously meta comedic relief.) When a piece of fanfiction randomly makes it way to Matty, he’s amused and has a laugh with the boys. But he can’t stop thinking about it and gradually he finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with thoughts of ‘Fictional George’ (especially when his cock gets involved in the situation). Starved for new reading material, he finds The 1975 section of a website called Archive of Our Own. Encouraged by the authors there (who have no idea who he really is), Matty starts to post his own writing. But why does someone keep leaving him nasty comments? And what happens when Matty slips up? [READ HERE]

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Your New Aesthetic: Complete. (George has a sexual awakening, part 1 of 2.) George lives a sad little life. He gets up, goes to work, comes home and falls asleep alone. Life is shit and he’s barely able to pay the bills to keep his bookshop open. Add to that a fuck ton of writer's block and it’s not surprising that he’s having a bit of an existential crisis. George has resigned himself to the fact that this is as good as it’s going to get when Matty, an eccentric stranger, crashes into his life. And then, just when things seem to be on the up for George, Matty drops a bombshell… [READ HERE]

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Fixation: Complete. (A smutty one shot.) On a drunken night out, Matty decides to give up smoking. Just as he’s about to crack up, George offers him an effective new way to break the habit... [READ HERE]

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Talking to George: Complete. (Comedic relief.) Matty is a struggling musician and his life is a chaotic mess. After getting kicked out of a nightmare flat share, he moves back in with his old school friends Ross and Adam and their new housemate – the handsome but mysterious George (who no one ever sees). It isn’t long before Matty starts to develop a bit of an unhealthy obsession… [READ HERE]

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// MUSIC FOR CARS //: Complete (Gatty through the ages.) My back was to the door, but I knew it was him. How did I know? My heart immediately began to beat faster and the hair stood up on my arms. Goosebumps spread across my skin. I had never been able to ignore his presence – Matty was always a full-body reaction. [READ HERE]

#the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #gatty

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years

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PALE WAVES - THERE'S A HONEY [7.36] It comes in a little plastic bear.

Claire Biddles: Sometimes songs align with our steps through life so perfectly that they feel made for us; articulating a particular heartbreak, ripping an unvoiced feeling from our chest, almost by chance soundtracking a moment to be remembered forever. They stay with us and weave themselves into our lives, to be replayed again and again and again, part of our archives of experience. It sounds like an obvious position to state, but all of my favourite songs are songs like this: I tend not to go all-in for a song that doesn't go all-in for me. The blurb of every song I've ever given a [10] on here has likely been edited down from 6,000 self-indulgent words about a specific tragic romantic encounter with identifying details removed. I write fanfic about my own life. I struggle with objectivity. I'm a terrible critic. My enthusiasm for "There's a Honey" is strange, then: I've played it on infinite repeat all year, but it doesn't align to anything in particular, it just kind of crept in to my heart and buried itself there. The lyrics are cute -- a laconic tease of a sort-of lover, glistening with irony within its sunny surroundings -- but I'm not itching to shout any of them from the rooftops or get any of them tattooed on my arms or nodding earnestly thinking "yes, that's it, that's me". The song doesn't soundtrack a specific memory that I replay in my head for its duration, it just soundtracks whatever I'm doing while I'm listening to it -- which again sounds unremarkable, but those who live in a perpetual state of emotional nostalgia will know what I mean. Maybe my deep, unconditional love for "There's a Honey" is, then, an opportunity to be present -- an encouraging sign that I can just like a song because it's beautiful and effortless and sunny and meticulously crafted. But maybe really I'm just waiting for something to happen at the end of this flat, lifeless year -- wondering if this time I'll turn my head as the guitars drop before the middle eight and I'll see someone across the street and they'll look at me too and that will be the start of it, and I'll remember this moment and this song's part in it forever. [10]

Joshua Copperman: I remember exactly when I started to love this song - it was 0:59, when the drums drop out and Heather Baron-Gracie sings the line "I will give you my body/but am I sure that you want me?" over a low, rumbling bass, before the same line repeats over that bombastic but spacious drum beat. It's a very specific kind of feeling and phrasing to "give someone your body" and even more specific for "but am I sure that you want me?" After spending a semester in a Gender and Language class where the professor often insinuated that the language of [heterosexual, romantic] romance was inherently 'male-coded', I've come back to the song hearing it as an internal monologue from the other side's point of view. There's also the anxiety behind wanting a relationship to blossom; that would explain the double meaning behind "somebody I know I'm bad for," a case where even if she did get into a relationship, she feels like she would fuck it up anyway. While the follow-up single "Television Romance" treads nearly the exact same melodic territory, the sensitive lyrics and polished arrangement are ultimately what keep me coming back to this one. [9]

Maxwell Cavaseno: It'd be dishonest to not point to the traces of the Curse/Furs-esque shimmer glossing all over the record, or deny a certain similarity in songwriting between Heather Baron-Gracie and her labelmate Matty Healy. Except of course, whereas the latter's heart on sleeve sloppiness seems so tragically heroic to the point of parody at times, "There's a Honey" is a record that feels like two layers of terror and glory that ring next to each other in harmony in spite of failing the math. You can't tell if the self-awareness and quips are at the expense or the sale of someone, and for the relative under-developments in the song, you get the feeling of a band who have the potential to really push past their influences and get to the heart of the matter. [6]

Ryo Miyauchi: It's too cosmically perfect for one half of 1975 to be involved with a new wave pop that divides the body from the mind. The music rightfully leans a lot more physical to go with what's at exchange, but the moments where the body takes a backseat to give voice to the subconscious give "There's a Honey" life. [7]

Brad Shoup: If the Matty Healy connection hadn't been disclosed, I still might've guessed this: this is music for anyone who thinks of their body as a jacket to be unzipped, hung up, and studied. They lean on their chorus -- full of skip-jumps and bashed eighths, a sort of Carly Rae homage -- heavily; for the bridge, Heather Baron-Gracie just floats to the ceiling and waits. [7]

Alfred Soto: Trusting their guitars over their honeyed words, Pale Waves excel at that Cocteau Twins-indebted shimmer. And if Heather Baron-Gracie didn't hurt so well it wouldn't matter. [7]

Rebecca A. Gowns: This song is like honey, immediately sweet with dreamy vocals and syrupy guitars. Yet it crystalizes all too easily: what sounds so wonderful and easy on the first listen feels increasingly stilted on each re-listen. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Thick, rigid plodding drums undermine the sleek, glittery guitar, the smooth, bunched bass and the airy, gossamer vocals. Tastes like Haribo cherries. [7]

Iain Mew: It clicked for me once I realised that the nagging familiarity of the bubbly guitar riff was because it reminded me of the chorus melody from "Dancing On My Own." Pale Waves stage a crisis of the uncertain future rather than the certain present, but they do it in a similar way, alone but trying to direct it all outwards, feeling constantly and intently enough to not have to really stop and think at once. [7]

Will Adams: Pale Waves are riding the same Lite Brite-rock wave that The 1975 and MUNA and The Aces and plenty others are on, but given how they've gothed up their surfboard, there's certainly room for them too. [7]

Eleanor Graham: An exact midpoint between the sticky-floor black of The 1975's first album and the flamingo pink of their second. The lyrics lack Healy's specificity, but that feels a conscious choice and a blessing. It's classic pop songwriting, pretty and expansive and blank for your own meaning. And Heather Baron-Gracie's plasticky faintly Mancunian dead-eyed fembot voice is an instrument in a way that Healy's isn't. The teenage insularity is written not so much into the words as into her cadence - if you don't get "it's not eas-ay/I wanna fee-el/something different for once" then you just don't. But if you do, maybe you understand the degree to which it is about being alone and about being at a club in your hometown and about all the faces that mean nothing and the few that make your heart go oh, right, but you don't care! You really don't! That's what this insistent, moody, shoulder-hunched jangle sounds like: the sugar-lightness of throwing away all the Caring, and the gratification of pulling it inside again a second later. Nursing your private, complex darkness like a drink in the eye of the storm, and dancing at the same time. The Pale Waves singles are wonderfully cohesive, three glittering Instagram-goth beacons in the depths of December, but this one feels like the fullest execution of their vision. [8]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Pale Waves #there's a honey #TSJ Best of 2017

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