#especially since you came in here guns absolutely fuckin blazing
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It's almost like...if someone isn't a pedophile, they won't want to be called one, especially since such false accusations have a history of literally ruining lives. Use your damn brain and stop taking cartoons so seriously that you have to harm real people to make yourself feel good
The fact you chose anonymity shows that you really really have a lot of confidence that you're right /s
And while I do agree with the first sentence, the second one is where you start being wrong, so
A for effort, though
#good try#not really#i could go on a long rant about all sorts of reasons youre wrong#but i wont#because i dont have the energy and also im sure you dont care enough to have a civil discussion about it#especially since you came in here guns absolutely fuckin blazing#lets play a fun little game shall we?#the game is called#im turning off anonymous asks
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“It’s Them” (2/3)
A/N: THIS HAS BECOME A THREE PARTER I’M SORRY I CAN’T STOP THIS PART WAS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY TO THE STORY I LOVE YOU ALL I MADE A COVER PHOTO FOR IT AND EVERYTHING (source in my masterlist!!!)
I opted to post this part instead of Ch. 10 because...... well idk why just enjoy ~
thank you to my love crossbowking for editing it for me you’re an angel bby and i love you more than anything xoxo
It was hysteria. In every single sense of the word.
You felt like you were watching a movie — a zombie horror movie where everyone was turning and coming back to life, rising from the dead and eating random people as they tried to run or fight back. But it wasn’t a movie, and these weren’t strangers. You’d come to know these people, and the smoke and screams and smell of gunpowder and rotten flesh were far too real as it surrounded you, threatening to suffocate you where you stood.
You’d been most concerned about Carl, knowing how absent-minded Lori could be, for lack of a better term, and you were worried that she might’ve lost him amongst the chaos. You couldn’t afford to lose another child. Especially not so soon.
The horde had moved somewhere down the hill closer into the quarry and you could see them shifting direction after some of your group as they fled. Your machete was grabbed tightly in your hand and your eyes darted back and forth in search of a threat to find that no stray biters were around you and it was still despite the yells and gunshots that rung through the air.
You knew that if you had a chance at all you had to jump into the horde toward your crew to where the camper was as surely they were all going that direction to jump in and flee in it, Daryl leading the way on Merle’s bike.
But as you made it to the bottom of the hill breathlessly, you looked up just in time to see the headlights flick on as it peeled out of the dirt clearing and left you standing amongst the carnage and living dead as they turned and started shuffling slowly toward you.
“Hey,” Lola whispered harshly from behind you, just barely catching your attention. Disbelief? Shock? Fury? What were you feeling right now? So many different emotions were swimming through your head and it was mind-numbing, nauseating almost. You felt as though you should be mad at them — they left you, after all, didn’t they? And shit, they hadn’t even tried to call for you or even wait for you. They’d flat out abandoned you in the quarry, probably assuming you couldn’t handle yourself amongst the herd and died trying to fight your way out.
Well, the joke’s on them. Who was fighting for their lives now?
Negan suddenly rained Lucille down upon a man you didn’t recognize: a big, stocky, red-haired man. And he took it like a champ, too. The people surrounding him cried and yelled and you hardly flinched and it was because of that realization that you deducted just how furious you were at these people.
You just needed to keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Come on. Keep going. You’ll find something eventually. It had been days. Would you ever find anything? Or was the world as you knew it destroyed, human life ceasing to exist and the only lives left were the ones that had abandoned you in the crisis, giving up on you completely.
You thought you’d met some friends — good companions to have at the very least. You’d liked Dale. Rick and T-Dog And Glenn, too. And even the quiet one with the asshole for a brother — you’d liked both of them. They weren’t the nicest or the most modest people, but they were tough and knew how to survive. You had minimal knowledge on that, and it was showing as you wandered farther down the abandoned road, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, head pounding and legs ready to give out.
You’d thought it was a group of walkers approaching from far down the horizon, or maybe it was just a mirage; whatever it was, you couldn’t find the motivation or strength to even handle your machete. In fact, the timing had been perfect, as you stumbled into a pothole that caught and twisted your ankle, sending you harshly down to the hot concrete. And you stayed there.
If it was walkers that were nearing you, let them eat you. This was no way to live — running endlessly in search of food or water or shelter. Even if the world came back from this, it would never be the same, and it wouldn’t be soon, either. Everyone you knew was dead and you’d simply blocked that out when you thought you’d been surrounded by other like-minded survivors who felt like you and struggled like you but fought like you. And you were wrong. So what was the point of trying to survive when you had nothing to live for? Surviving wasn’t living. This life would be pitiful and worse than death.
“Damn, we got a fresh one here.”
“She ain’t dead, dumbass. Look at ‘er, for fuck's sake. Are ya blind?”
“You can’t be too careful anymore, man! They’re all comin’ back!”
“Shut the fuck up — both of you. Hey, there! Are you alright?”
You were sure the blazing hot sun was taking its toll on you as you lay in the middle of the road, literally frying like an egg. You couldn’t find the strength to reply. You were weak, tired, sore, sad. Your ankle hurt. You’d be crying if you could afford to lose any more water that your body didn’t have.
“Well, shit, maybe she is dead...”
Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. And the voices you heard went silent, replaced with cocking guns, all pointed at you in anticipation of you rising up to eat them alive. Three men. Your stomach dropped and for a brief moment, you wished that they’d been walkers instead.
“Shit, little lady.” The tall one in the middle lowered his weapon and smirked at you with the kind of look that would usually send you running the opposite direction. But you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore. You didn’t even have a gun to shoot yourself with if things did go south. “You look like you’ve been put through the wringer and spit the fuck back out.”
You felt like it. But you still didn’t speak.
“You still with me?” He took a step forward and you flinched, wanting so badly to be ready and able to run away if you needed to, but you knew it would be helpless to even try. “We won’t hurt you. I promise.”
You snorted in derision. Promised?
“Oh, good,” you finally croaked out, voice weak from underuse and unfamiliar to your own ears. “Well, since you promised, and all. Do you mind helping me up? I fucked up my ankle, I think.”
With wide eyes and raised brows, the loud one took another single, large stride toward you with an amused grin having replaced the sneer that had just been there. “God damn if I don’t love me a lady with some sarcasm!”
“Please,” you dismissed his attempt at what you assumed was flirting, considering how few women were left in the world and that they’d been lucky enough to stumble across you. “I'm hardly a lady.” As he knelt down next to you, so tall that he was still hardly eye-level even crouched next to you on the ground, the look faded to one of genuine concern; in fact, it was so genuine, that you were unsettled by it. The two others with him stood patiently behind where they’d stopped, back-to-back as they kept watch.
For being so intimidating and cocky, he was surprisingly gentle as his large hands softly prodded the swollen flesh around your ankle where it had already begun to turn purple. “Well, doll, something like this would have either one of those dumbasses crying in fetal position, and they are, in fact, definitely not ladies. You’re a tough-fuckin-cookie, aren’t you?”
You hadn’t noticed the nervousness you were experiencing had dwindled away into curiosity, the anomaly of a man in front of you both confusing and intriguing you with his behavior. You merely shrugged at his question. “Gotta be nowadays, I guess.”
The grin returned and his dark brown eyes lit up along with it — and it was then you had realized that he was actually kind of... handsome.
And he caught you staring, smiling even bigger with his somehow still perfectly white and straight teeth showing, dragging his tongue slowly across it as you averted your gaze back down to your injury.
“You sure as shit do, doll.” He gave you a once over and you found yourself feeling oddly self-conscious as if your filthy jeans, boots and black t-shirt with unkempt hair and days worth of dirt caked onto your skin had been your choice and not the product of wandering aimlessly by yourself, starving and dehydrated in the summer heat. “I’m gonna guess that by your current situation here that you don’t have a group or anything, do you?”
Everything in you had been screaming to lie but the idea of being with real, living people sounded so tantalizing that you couldn’t stop the ‘no’ from tumbling off of your tongue. He shook his head and frowned again. “You’re all on your own then?”
You nodded. “My last group, we’d been holed up at a camp for a while where we thought it was safe. It got overrun and...” you trailed off, not sure of what to say after having spent so much time blocking out the memories and the unapologetic anger that came with them. The stranger took it as a sign that you’d been through some trauma that you didn’t want to talk about.
“I get it. We’ve all lost people we cared...”
“No,” you immediately cut him off, not wanting him to think you weak and helpless. “Only a handful died that night. The others — they just left me.”
Your voice sounded bitter and cold and you embraced it, still furious about the group of people you’d surrounded yourself with, mad that you’d believed that they might have actually been good, honest people. You’d had a hunch that this world was quickly becoming dog-eat-dog in every sense of the phrase, but your naivety hadn’t let you believe it until you’d been proven that people couldn’t be trusted.
So why was this man hovering over you so interested in you and your story? There was always an ultimatum — especially with men. Even before the world turned to shit; but now more than ever.
“Well, shit, girl. I’ve seen some sad shit over the last couple of months, but that’s just fucked up.”
“Yeah,” you replied bluntly. “So, to answer your question, yes, I am all by myself. And I’ve made it this far, so I would say I’m doing just fine.”
You really hadn’t meant for it to be spat out so harshly but you couldn’t help the bitterness that was still lingering inside of you. The stranger seemed to appreciate it, if anything, and the cocky grin returned once again, and you found yourself jealous that he could smile so freely and so easily. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d laughed.
“I’d love to agree with you, but the pothole you’re sitting inside of tells me otherwise.”
He gestured to your ankle and you followed, almost forgetting about the throbbing injury for a minute, so overcome with rage and regret. He was absolutely right, though — you’d been doing fine but in your current state, you weren’t going to be very quick on your feet and on top of the constant threat of walkers strolling by, it was also getting dark.
“No offense, doll, but you look like shit.” You glared at him, but he continued before you could intervene. “We got a group holed up in a big old factory a few miles back. Women and kids. A doctor, too. I’m sure he’d be happy to look at that ankle of yours.”
As weary as you should’ve been, part of you so desperately wanted to believe it was true. You contemplated it and he noticed your hesitation. “I know, I know — three fine ass men stumble upon you laying in a pothole, starving to death, and take you back to a place with food and water and beds. Too good to be true right?”
You rolled your eyes, but let him continue.
“Well, it’s your lucky day, sweetheart, because it’s absolutely true.”
“What do you want from me?” You asked bluntly, the question having been in the back of your mind since the three happened to find you. You were worried that you’d be forced into a shitty situation with shitty people and that they would do things worse than kill you. But what choice did you have? You could lay there and get eaten alive or get discovered by a different, less charming group of men with different intentions. You were going to die anyway, so what difference did it make?
“Well, since you asked, things work a little bit differently there. We’re working on a system that keeps things going — just like before. You work, you earn. It’s that simple.”
“It’s never that simple,” you argued.
“Let’s be honest, doll. You’re worried that we’re gonna turn all Silence of the Lambs on you. And I get it, I do! But trust me when I say we have a zero tolerance policy for that shit. The first thing we established were rules. Rules are what separate us from the monsters.”
You sat silently as you took in his words. It seemed genuine enough and the mere thought had you willing to jump to your feet and run that direction. With a sigh, you nodded your head.
“Alright,” you said before remembering that you were unable to walk. “Can you help me stand?” Of course asking only frustrated you further, feeling helpless and pathetic. But the magnitude of your injury was already showing through puffy, bruised skin and, if you’d had any energy left, you were sure you’d be cursing because of the pain. But for then, you were fine with being too numb to feel it.
“I’ll do you one better,” the man said, straightening himself out with cracking knees and doubling back over to scoop you up from where you lay on the hard ground with an unintentional yelp of surprise. He spun around and swiftly began walking, beckoning for the two men to follow him back. It had been years since a man had carried you like that — wounded or otherwise.
“Oh, what the fuck, where are my manners?” The man suddenly said, interrupting your daydreaming. “I haven’t even introduced myself. My name’s Negan. What’s yours?”
#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#negan#the walking dead negan#negan fanfiction#negan x reader#negan imagine#negan drabble#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead drabble#jeffrey dean morgan#twd#twd negan
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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 72)
The dining hall of Manor Schnee had been temporarily turned into a combination situation room/planning area/mess hall for the space and the slapdash nature of their operations.
Among other Queensguard, Agent Gumshoe waited there, pulling out a Fizzle Stick from her breast pocket, putting it into her mouth, and lighting it with her antique Zippo. The tip of the candy started to crackle, the sugar inside it melting and pouring out the other side, and she began to chew.
“They say we were all lucky that we came when we did, guns blazing and putting all kinds of holes in the plans of the Heralds and whoever the hell the ‘Council’ are,” she said. “Poor bastards don’t realize we Queensguard didn’t have the winning numbers on our tickets, and probably never will.”
Used to it, and with their own eccentric quirks beside, none of the other agents commented.
“It’s a hard life, being a Queensguard.
“You got your personal issues, your awful pasts, and your honest desire to make a difference in this world and help people out by putting holes in others, wondering if you’re a fuckin’ hero who deserves a parade, or just a gun with two legs someone else is throwing into the fray for them.
“Then you join the program, and everything goes to even deeper shit.
“Physical training that’ll make the Old World’s Marine Corps weep. School, the kind of eyebrow burning usually done by people lookin’ to tack some fancy letters to their name, have people callin’ em Dr. Whoever-The-Fuck. And don’t get me started on the third part of our training…
“Psychological Conditioning’ they call it, if only because ‘Mental Torture’ doesn’t sound as nice.
“They build us up, then seni through straight through hell and back, then send us back for however many go-arounds it takes before we break. Then they pick the pieces up, glue ‘em all back together best as they can, rinse and repeat, until they either wash out, or they come out the other side one certified Badass Motherfucker who can take on goddamn anything.
“You can’t do something like that without leaving plenty of scars, though, some of them more obvious than others.
“Take Agent Qi, here. Fuckin’ obsessed with the number 7, and his fancy revolver.”
“Seven is life,” Agent Qi said. “Six bullets, one barrel—seven.”
“Won’t say no to a mission that doesn’t have anything—and I mean anything—about it that is or adds up to seven, be it the time the shit’s going down, the letters in the name, or even the coordinates on the map.
“But if it does, you can be sure as shit he’s going to coast through all that with a smile on his face, like he’s the luckiest man in all the realm.”
“Then there’s Agent Gwendolyn, AKA ‘The Knight.’
“Lost her whole team in a mission where she was shadowing all the other functioning nutcases we call ‘Queensguard Agents.’ Almost died along with them—had actually, for a few seconds before her suit’s revival protocols kicked in and zapped her brain back to life, but either something went wrong in the process, or it was that particular moment that she cracked like the rest of us Rank 7’s did, got it in her head that the only way she was going to get through this and more if Gwendolyn died, and was reborn as someone better.
“So now she goes around narrating everything like me, except she calls herself ‘The Knight.’”
Everyone stopped as a new agent walked in, carrying a tray of food in her still armoured hands.
“Hello everyone,” Winter said.
Gumshoe pulled out the free seat next to her.
“Thank you,” Winter said as she sat down, and began to eat.
“You’re welcome, doll. If’n you don’t mind, I’m gonna continue my whole shtick with you.”
“Go on ahead, Gummy, it’s not like it isn’t all over the Info-Grid,” Winter replied.
“Thanks, doll.” Gumshoe replied. She chewed what remained of her fizzle stick for a few moments, then continued.
“And then there’s Winter.
“You’d think the name was her call sign, seeing as she’s got a reputation for keeping her cool through everything; melting her walls and becoming the warmest damn person you’d ever met in your entire life if it’d serve her mission well to butter you up before she cut straight to your heart like a hot knife; and being more than a little bit of a bitch, but no:
“That’s what her grandma named her, like she could see in the future and decided to save a future lover the trouble of nicknaming her their own version of ‘Frosty the Snowbitch.’
“So what’s wrong with someone who sounds like the mythical Queensguard Agent that makes it through training completely intact? Even someone who looks about as well-put together as can be like Ironwood has got his issues.
“Five words: The Keeper of the Grove.”
Winter choked on her food. Gumshoe picked up her drink for her, she took a long swig then sighed in relief.
“You need me to stop, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine...” Winter whispered.
“If you say so. Anyway...
“As Fear is a pretty helpful emotion for getting your ass in gear when you need it to, she didn’t beat it out of her so much as she made it so that she was scared of as few things as possible. Maybe she might get startled or uneasy, but never shitting-your-pants terror.
“It had seemed like a good idea at the time: she was already pretty well and tramautized from a horror show way back when she was still a sweet and innocent kid, and what would be the problem with being scared exclusively by someone that only existed in myth, pop culture, and really bad costumes on Eve of the Ether?
“When it turns out they live in Reality too, that’s what!
“As the Keeper was terrorizing her and her little sis in this very mansion, us crazies in the Queensguard thought Winter had finally broken for good, that this time, there would be no picking the pieces back up and gluing them back together. All we thought we were doing when we hauled her conked-out ass back to base was fix her as much as possible before we set her up for a nice, quiet civilian life with a hefty pension and a whole lotta perks beside.
“Then we all watched the Keeper 86 her sister on live holovision, and it turned out that the only thing in little tiny pieces that couldn’t be put back together was what we thought was reality.
“Nothing new, really, considering all the other crazy shit that happens in Avalon that necessitates an even crazier bunch of loons willing to protect it—AKA the Queensguard—but it still caught us all off guard.
“By the time we realized our big mistake, her sister was dead, the rest of her whole family was in the ground or may as well have been, and since she only ever kept working for us to keep her sister safe, she had pretty much lost everything she ever gave a fuck about.
“And what do you do with someone with nothing to lose?
“Give them everything to gain—namely, the Shepherd Suit Mk. IV, the latest in the line.
“First, Piper’s gearheads strapped guns and sturdy pieces of scrap metal to exo-suits originally made for hauling boxes around, then we started slapping armour and weapons designed specifically for getting shot and shooting right back, and then we shrank it down so you if you wanted to enter a building, you’d only have to duck to avoid banging your head, than break down the door and take a good chunk of the wall while you were at it.
“So where do we go from there?
“You make it smaller, faster, and strap some wings and the very cutting edge in energy-weapons to it, is what you do.
“There’s only three things that are keeping the Big Guys Upstairs from equipping every single trooper with these:
“One, it’s expensive as hell to mine, refine, and use this much Exanite and a shit-ton of other super-rare metals that all the armour, the weaponry, and the wiring needs.
“Two, it eats up power like a bus full of relapsed alcoholics at last call for Happy Hour, which is why it’s a damn good thing it can take out entire armies in the blink of an eye.
“And three, once you put it on, you can’t ever take it off—unlike its older siblings, the spine-jack on this thing becomes part of your actual spine.
“We thought we were just making the best of a very bad situation like usual, squeezing out some more use out of someone we thought we were going to have to put out to pasture, and who didn’t want to go there yet, either.
“But it turns out, the timing couldn’t have been better, because now the little sister turns out to be a whole lot less dead than we thought, we’ve got a messiah gone missing and possibly rogue, and a whole bunch of loonies with alien magitech and animal ears running about the whole realm causing hell and talking about something they call ‘The Truth.’
“You could be blind, and still read all the signs pointing to the one place that has the answers to all the latest mysteries Avalon is throwing at us:
“The Viridian Valley.
“So how many of us loons are going with you out there, soon as it gets dark and we don’t get turned to people-jerky soon as we step out the barrier?” Gumshoe asked.
“None,” Winter replied. “I’m going in with two Tinmen, and that’s mostly for recharging my core.”
Surprise came over all the agents faces.
“Seriously, doll?” Gumshoe asked.
“Yes, seriously,” Winter replied, her serious expression the most serious the others had ever seen.
“Sure you won’t end up putting your waste-management subsystems on overdrive when you eyeball her?” Gumshoe continued.
“I’m sure,” Winter replied. “I may have been absolutely terrified of the Keeper for almost all my life, but that ends now, because the face of my nightmares has kidnapped my little sister, brainwashed her, and seduced her.”
She raised her fists to the sky and started screaming.
“DO YOU HEAR ME, KEEPER?!
“YOU SEALED YOUR FATE WHEN YOU ‘KILLED’ MY LITTLE SISTER ON LIVE HOLIVISION, AND I’M ONLY MORE DETERMINED TO UTTERLY ANNIHILATE YOU NOW THAT YOU’VE KISSED HER ON LIVE HOLOVISION, TOO!
“I’M SCORCHING YOU WITH MY LASERS LIKE BOTH THOSE SCENES WERE SCORCHED INTO MY BRAIN—ESPECIALLY THE SECOND ONE!
“SERIOUSLY! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”
Winter sighed and got up from her seat. “Excuse me, everyone, I need to go get some last-minute repairs and upgrades before my big mission...”
“You do that!” Gumshoe yelled, as she and all the other agents were gathered up at the furthest corner away from Winter as possible, holding up their guns and projecting shields.
Winter left the dining hall, the agents slowly returned to their seats.
“Turns out there’s a fourth downside to the Mk. IV!” Gumshoe muttered as she chewed the last of her fizzle stick, pulled out a new one with shaking hands. “If it turns out the person you put it in is STILL pretty batshit insane, getting them out of the suit is going to be a LOT harder than putting them in…
“Like I said: we thought it was a good idea at the time...”
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Yungblud is hellbent on being the rockstar of the 2020 generation. But rather than aspiring for the sex, drugs and destruction trope of a rock god who lords over his fans, the 22-year-old wants to share the throne with them.
Known as the Black Hearts Club, the Yungblud community is made up of self-proclaimed misfits who’ve bonded over the Doncaster local’s no bullshit philosophy for life. In a nutshell, the hyperactive punk rocker is known for donning pink socks and creepers while he kicks convention in the teeth.
His latest EP, the underrated youth, is no exception. Over 6 tracks, Yungblud takes an unapologetic lyrical approach to mental health and politics while giving a massive middle finger to the naysayers. Although he’s a punk-pop lover at heart, Yungblud doesn’t box himself in by one genre on the EP either. We’ve seen this in the last year as he collaborated with everyone from Blink 182’s Travis Barker and Imagine Dragon’s Dan Reynolds to Machine Gun Kelly, Halsey and Mashmello.
To take out the end of 2019 in a blaze of glory, Yungblud is returning down under this month for Falls Festival as well as the Twisted Tales of the Ritalin Club sideshows in Sydney and Melbourne.
We had a chat to Yungblud about converting new fans at Falls Festival, his New Year’s Eve plans with Lewis Capaldi and the new coming-of-age record.
Music Feeds: Let’s talk about Falls Festival. How excited are you for that?
Yungblud: Dude, I can’t fucking wait to come back to Australia. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to since I left. I fucking love your country but I’m never there long enough, which just sucks. I’m just so buzzin’ to come back, man. It’s like Falls Festival. What a lineup. I can’t bloody wait.
MF: You’re good mates with Lewis Capaldi who is also on the lineup, so hopefully you two can get up to some mischief together while you’re down here.
YB: Oh, absolutely! I think we’re going to be together on New Year’s Eve so naturally, that will just be carnage. I mean the Scottish drink like fishes.
MF: Um, oh my god. Can I come? You’ll need an Australian in your ranks.
YB: Exactly! We will (laughs). It’s going to be insane. Brits, the Scottish and Aussies can all drink. It’s just a recipe for disaster, innit?
MF: So, for those who haven’t seen you live yet, what can Falls Festival expect from a Yungblud show?
YB: I just think energy, man. You’re gonna laugh because we’re pretty cheeky. You’re gonna jump and move around because of the energy and you’re probably going to cry because it just feels like a sense of unity between us all. Especially between me and my fans. I love playing festivals because I love when people kinda get converted. You can see it on their faces.
MF: You’re also doing the Twisted Tales of the Ritalin Club sideshows, do you approach festival shows and more intimate gigs differently?
YB: I think probably not. I’m just gonna allow this mental, happy, energetic, yet slightly schizophrenic person that I am. I think being on stage is being on stage, y’know?
It’ll just be madness. (At Falls) I want people to go wanna go back to sleep. I want people after they see the show to be like “Fuck, I can’t see the late show tonight because I’m knackered” (laughs).
MF: You released ‘lonely together: a short film about belonging’ over the weekend. Can you tell me how that came about and the people that were involved?
YB: Absolutely, man! Vevo wanted to do something together for a while and I was really excited to work with them and I’ve seen some of their videos in the past and knew I had the power to do what I wanted. So I sat down with them and I was like, “I have an idea that I wanna do. I want to do a short film about my fan base.” Because that’s what Yungblud is, Yungblud isn’t me. Yungbud is us. I am 50% of what this is and I wanted to amplify that in this video.
I wanted it to be theatrical because I pride myself and built my character off people like the Joker and a lot of DC Comic Books. That was my visual intent but I wanted it to be this sense of unity that isn’t necessarily about me. This whole thing isn’t about me, it’s about us.
MF: It’s really powerful because although the stories that you and your fans are sharing are different, the desire to belong is common in each one.
YB: Oh, absolutely. That’s the thing about it, there’s such a change in culture right now where people just want to be accepted for exactly who they are. There’s a movement in punk and youth culture. It’s very similar to the grunge movement in the ’90s. People have been fed so much bullshit for years and years in terms of politics, music and fashion. We just want to be told the fucking truth.
MF: You wear your heart on your sleeve in your songwriting but how was it being so vulnerable in the short film? Was it difficult at all?
YB: Absolutely not. I think I can finally feel like I can be who I am because of my fan base and my family. For the first time in my life, I can express who I am. I can fucking say to the world: This is me, these are my flaws, this is what I look like, this is what I sound like and this is what I talk like. And if you don’t like it, you’re just not meant to be in my life and that’s cool.
MF: And you’ve found your people in the Black Hearts Club. You could really see that in the scenes where you were all sitting in a circle, sharing your stories.
YB: That’s what I mean, I am one of them. I wanted it to be like we were in an AA meeting. That’s what it’s about. It’s not about me being fuckin’ above them or a fucking popstar. Fuck that. I’ll leave being a popstar to the popstars. I’m not arsed about that. I never got into this to do that. I got into it because I felt so lonely and so isolated that I was almost suicidal. So I wanted to find people who were similar to me.
MF: And isn’t that what every person wants at the end of the day?
YB: Yeah, legitimately. That’s it. We just want to be accepted for who we are in an era of Kardashian fucking mentality. And now it’s so much cooler to be yourself.
MF: In an interview with NME, you said you wanted to be the rockstar of 2020. What does that look like for you?
YB: Rock ‘n’ roll to me isn’t bashing the shit out of instruments or acting like a dickhead. Rock ‘n’n roll to me is about freedom and liberation. I think that’s what rock means in this day and age.
MF: You released the underrated youth EP a few months ago. How do you feel about the response to it now that you’ve had some time to take it all in?
YB: It’s been crazy. This whole EP just made me reach so many new people. It’s just mental. It made me find so many new fans and people and family that I would’ve never had normally found.
Now I’m getting ready to release another record. I’m just not stopping. There are so many people out there who feel like it’s ok to be who they are and I want them to know about us and if they choose to come to us, they are so welcome. Everyone feels liberated in this community and that makes me so happy.
MF: What can we expect from the new record?
YB: Something that you can’t expect! (laughs). Typical Yungblud. Typical me. I’m just trying to push the boundaries with new sounds and new topics. It’s a coming of age record. It’s a record about the experiences that I’ve had. I’ve grown up five years this year. I’ve been through so much. After everything, all the bullshit, I’ve just figured out that it’s just a weird time in my life and that it’s all going to be OK.
MF: You collaborated with some massive artists including Travis Barker and Dan Reynolds this year. Do you have any collabs on the album?
YB: There is a mental one coming at the start of next year. I can’t say who it is yet but he is such a visionary artist. So fucking sick and he is a bridge between hip hop and rock and roll. I’ll give you a clue, the first time that I heard about him and the first time that I saw that he was such a clear bridge between hip hop and rock n roll was in an Australian press outlet. The Aussies liked him.
MF: Oh my god, I’m so curious! Is it Post Malone?
YB: I can’t say but I’m glad you’re curious (laughs). You’ll have to wait til 2020.
MF: And what else is on the cards in 2020 for Yungblud?
YB: If 2019 was in third gear, 2020 is in fifth gear. I can’t wait to announce the tour and for people to hear the album.
–
Yungblud will play Falls Festival 2019/2020 as well as two sideshows in Sydney and Melbourne.
The post Yungblud: “We Just Want To Be Told The Fucking Truth” appeared first on Music Feeds.
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