#rolling stone articles suck

[shineearticles]

Rolling Stone's 75 Greatest Boy Band Songs of All Time

full article

[taylorhawkins]

check out this NHC interview (1 whole hour of these 3!!!!!!) I love it so much ❤️

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[ebdaydreamer]

Ok that rolling stone article absolutely sucks and a quote in the article from the film and media professor they interviewed literally highlights how they missed the whole point:

“Viewers are very sensitive to [queerbaiting] because they are on the hunt to see themselves and when they feel that they’ve been suckered into watching something, it feels like being used,” Himberg explains. “Queerbaiting signals to queer people [that] ‘There are queer characters here.’ And so when that doesn’t pan out, you alienate people and bring up this sort of history of invisibility that has plagued television, especially around LGBTQ people."

Well, good news! If you came to 9-1-1 pre-Bi Buck because you thought there was queer representation, you might have been confused that it wasn't the two men you saw all those pictures and edits of. But! Look at all these other queer characters we got! A man comes out to his family in the first episode! And he's credited as a main! One of the main character firefighters is a lesbian with a whole wife who's a recurring character and everything!

Literally, fuck everyone who told us we were being queerbaited. Fuck this article for implying that we were being queerbaited until Buck came out as bisexual, thank you very much. This show has always been queer.

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

Guns N’ Roses Fic: You Don’t Know How This Works

Summary: One morning Howard telephones Axl to interview him and to secretly get under his skin by flirting with his girlfriend, Roxanne. Little does Howard know that Axl has other mischievous plans up his sleeve.

Characters: Axl Rose, OC: Roxanne, and Howard Stern.

Pairing(s): Axl Rose/original female character, Axl Rose/female reader, Axl Rose/Roxanne, Howard Stern/Roxanne.

Rating: Explicit, 21+

Word Count: 2,357

Warnings: Howard is a creep, humiliation, drug use, mentions of bondage, vaginal fingering, forced climax, and oral sex.

A/N: This fic is inspired by Howard Stern’s 1990 interview between Axl Rose and Sebastian Bach. Parts of the interview have been altered to fit this story’s plot. In the fic, Roxanne is semi based off of Erin Everly. Link to video => here

Everything inside the condo was quiet. Morning light seeped into the bedroom, casting a golden glow on both the wrinkled white bedsheets and Axl Rose's sleeping form, while his head was buried underneath a layer of pillows. It was peaceful. Until suddenly, on the nightstand, the telephone began to ring. The obnoxious sound reverberated off the walls. Axl stayed in bed, somewhat blocking out the noise with his pillows.

He had stayed up all night partying with his friends, drinking vast amounts of hard liquor, injecting himself with heroine, and French kissing his beloved sweetheart, Roxanne aka Roxi. His body felt wrecked and his mind harbored a horrible migraine. The ringing only made his problems worse.

Axl groaned awake, picking up the receiver, a hint of grogginess in his tone. "Hello?" Axl's eyes caught a glimpse of the clock - 9:15 a.m. Who the fuck was calling this early?

"Hey, Axl, it's me - Howard Stern. How the hell are you? What have you been up to?"

Axl's peripheral vision was somewhat blurred and his mind was not registering the bombardment of questions Howard threw at him. He sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face, hoping his mind would clear up. Unfortunately, for the migraine, it still knocked on his frontal lobe like Heaven's Door. "Wh-what?"

"Come on, man. Don't dodge the question. Tell me about your life. What's been happening? Are you still banging chicks? Writing any new songs? You still partying like a wild animal?" Howard always pried each of his guests on air and wanted to know everything about their life. It didn't matter if it was his business or not, Howard made it his business.

"Yeah, man. Sure."

The answer was vague and Howard knew it. He needed to try a new tactic, go slow, take each question at a time, and then he'd get the answers he was searching for, including some dirt as a bonus. In the end, the turtle won, not the hare. "You sound tired. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Axl lied. "Just laying in bed, reading some magazines."

"Yeah? Any hot chicks on those covers?"

"Not a chance.” He cleared his throat. “They're Rolling Stone articles."

"Oh, business replaced pleasure this morning?"

"If they didn't shred me in the papers it'd be the opposite."

"What kind of shredding?"

"How I don't live an honest life. That kind of bullshit." It was true. The media did try to distort his public image by twisting the facts and cranking out lies about his personal life and incidents that have occurred on tour.

"I hear ya, man. Critics can fuck you right in the ass. It's their job. They wanna fuck every celebrity they can find, including me. I'd rather they sucked my dick. Like in your song, Out Ta Get Me."

Axl snorted. "It's one thing we have in common." His eyes wandered to the other side of the bed, noticing the empty space. Where was his baby girl? Was she in the kitchen brewing some coffee? Making breakfast? Outside of the bedroom, he didn't hear the clinking of dishes to confirm his suspicions, or the aroma of coffee grains. “Roxanne?" Axl called, unaware that Howard was still on the other line.

"Oh, is she there?" Excitement crept into Howard's voice.

Axl grunted. "Yeah, man, she's here..."

"What's she doing right now?"

He shrugged. Why was Howard interested in his girl? It seemed strange…odd. "Hell if I knew. She disappeared on me."

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound so promising," Howard mused. "Is she fucking one of your boys?"

Axl eyed the door. "Nah, man. She's loyal." Or at least he hoped she was. She wouldn't wander out of the condo to fuck one of his band members. If that was the case, he'd tie her down on the bed and remind her who she belonged to. It wasn't the first time that happened and it wouldn't be the last.

"Doesn't sound loyal," Howard commented. "Tell me something: does she have big tits?"

The question took him off guard but Axl tried to remain unfazed. Instead, he chuckled, picturing her voluminous globes and perked nipples. "Why? You jealous?"

"No, no. All I'm saying is," Howard corrected himself, "you're lucky for finding chicks with great racks. It's a rare find these days."

"A lot of 'em are fake, but she's a natural."

Howard paused, listening intently. He heard many rumors about Axl over the years, particularly about his temper. Howard was purposely trying to get a rise out of him and see if he would blow up over the line in front of Howard's daily listeners. He just needed to push each button a little more...

Axl continued, "You can squeeze 'em and all sorts of sounds come outta her like a chew toy."

"You suck her tits too?"

"Lick, bite, suck," he elaborated. "Look, it doesn't matter. She creams for me. End of story."

Around the corner, Axl heard the front door unlatch, creek open, and close. Roxanne must've arrived home.

“Axl?"

"In here, baby."

Roxi walked into the doorway of their bedroom, holding two coffees and dangling a plastic bag, with a bagel logo on it, around her forearm.

Axl sighed with relief. She didn't wake up early to cheat on him. She went out of her way to buy them both breakfast from their favorite bakery across the street.

Roxi held up his beverage, whispering, “Black coffee with extra milk for my King."

Howard interrupted the precious moment with his chattering demands. "Lemme speak to her." If Axl denied his wishes, he wouldn't hear the endless complaints from Howard for the rest of the interview, and Axl was already running low on patience this morning. "Babe, come here. Howard wants to talk to you." Axl motioned for her to step closer.

Roxanne walked in, handing him his coffee, and setting the bag on the nightstand. She grabbed the phone, pressing it against her ear while her index finger snaked around the cord, twirling it. It was a nervous habit. She never spoke to a famous person before, let alone Howard Stern. "Hello?"

"Is this Roxi?" Howard questioned, wanting confirmation.

"Yes."

Her voice was music to his ears. She sounded sweet like licorice, seemed childish like a doll, and innocent like Bambi. He could tell her very essence encapsulated an aura that could only be found within his childhood but was buried underneath life's hellish experiences, stripping away such purity. "You sound very beautiful," Howard complimented.

Roxi blushed, twirling her finger around the cord until her blood circulation came to a halt. "Thank you."

"What are you wearing?"

She looked down at her attire. "I'm wearing a dress."

"What kind of dress? Is it short?"

"No, its long. A long black dress. Nothing fancy."

"I see. I bet it's accentuating your curves, am I right?"

Roxi blushed again, harder this time, and held the phone against her ear tighter, hoping to block out Howard's voice in case Axl overheard him. She knew how jealous and overprotective Axl got, especially towards playful banter. "Thanks. Uhm...it's stylish, yeah."

Howard sensed her uneasiness. It was time to go straight for the kill. "Right. So, tell me, have you and Axl been making love every night?"

Roxanne turned to look at Axl. "Why are you asking me these questions…?" She asked, laughing nervously. Axl caught on and knew Howard was acting unprofessional. He took the phone away from her, sitting her down on his lap. "Howard," Axl said, wrapping an arm around Roxi's waist to keep her glued to his side.

"What, man? I'm just curious. I need to know the details. Is she a good lay?"

"Best lay you'll never have." Axl squeezed Roxi's hip. "She's mine. Nobody can have her."

"Nobody can have her yet she has everybody." Howard shot back.

Axl tried to keep himself composed. "Nah, man. You don't know how this works." He took Roxi's coffee out of her hand and placed it on the nightstand. He cradled the phone with his shoulder, using one of his hands to hold Roxi in place while his other hand sneaked underneath her dress, diving into her panties. She jolted at the sensation, wide-eyed, cupping her mouth shut with both hands.

Why was he displaying his dominance now?! She wondered.

"How what works?"

"This." Axl slid a finger into Roxanne's pussy, making her gasp. He could feel her velvet walls clench around his digit.

"How does it work?" Howard persisted.

"Only I know how it works." Axl slid in another finger, hooking them inside her. Roxi moaned into her palms and arched her back. "I intend to keep it that way." She didn't notice but Axl's eyes turned a shade darker as his dominant, protective side took over.

"Aww, I can't be part of your little club?" Howard found this whole interaction amusing and was oblivious to what was actually occurring.

"Nope. Just me." Axl withdrew both fingers, sliding them along her slit until he found her clit, stroking it. Roxi whined, leaning herself further onto his chest.

"I see. Only the cool kids get to join, huh?"

Axl nodded, stroking her clit a little harder.

Howard shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's alright. I'm not missing much."

Roxi came. Axl swiped his fingers along her cunt, coating them in her warm, fresh juices. “Not a damn thing." He confirmed, sucking away her slick. She was the most delicious thing he ever tasted. She was far superior than any meal Howard would never graze upon in his lifetime.

Roxanne's body went limp against Axl as she tried to catch her breath from the quick yet intense orgasm. She could feel his hardened erection poke into her ass at the seam of his pants. Now it was his turn to get a release.

Lying back on the bed, Axl repositioned Roxi to straddle his waist. She inched her body downwards and undid the leather belt-buckle on his jeans. Next, she used her teeth to unzip the fly of his jeans, tasting a hint of copper on her tongue. Her fingers dug in to free his throbbing manhood that was already leaking precum. In the room, a cool breeze wafted over his cock, helping it grow a few inches.

"So, Axl, tell me, will there be any covers on this album?"

Axl wanted to forget Howard was on the phone. He wanted to forget this interview was even happening and, instead, focus on the pure, erotic bliss Roxanne was gonna provide him. Axl wished he could smash the phone and never hear Howard's annoying voice again. But he couldn't. He needed the recognition. He needed the world - his fans - to hear about his upcoming album. And most of all...he needed a damn good blowjob.

Roxanne suctioned her lips around the base of his cock, diving head down to engulf his shaft in her throat. Axl cursed under his breath and used his free hand to guide Roxi's head, setting the pace.

"It's uhm...it's coming. We recorded Live And Let Die a few months ago."

"Oh yeah? The James Bond hit? I can foresee you guys executing that."

"Yeah, it's been really great." Axl looked down and saw Roxi's head bob up and down, causing her cheeks to hollow out, sharpening the contrast on her cheekbones. It was a lovely sight to behold. He bit back a few moans, cursing under his breath again. He didn't want Howard to know or suspect an inkling about this situation.

Reaching his hand out, Axl caressed Roxi's dark locks and petted her head, a notion that indicated she was being a good girl for making him feel grounded and satisfied.

"I heard a rumor Steven left the band-"

"He didn't leave. He got fired." Before Howard could ask why, Axl responded, “couldn't leave his drugs, couldn't leave her..." He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Roxanne was more addicting than heroine. Every time he got a piece of her, or she got a piece of him, he craved her insatiably. He could spend all day drinking her sweet nectar until the pipe ran dry. But he would want to come back for more, as if his thirst never got quenched during the first round.

"Mrs. Brownstone," Howard joked.

Axl laughed. "Yeah, yeah. We should've named it that." He could feel his climax approaching like a freightrain. He bucked his hips upwards, causing Roxi to gag a little. She recovered and only sucked him off faster.

"I'm guessing the rest of the album is gonna be a big surprise then?"

Axl grunted and felt his hot seed spurt out of his length into Roxi's milking hole. "Uh huh. Top secret. Classified."

Roxanne pulled her lips away with a popping sound, not loud enough for Howard to notice.

Howard understood and decided it was time to wrap the interview. He knew Axl wouldn't tell him anymore details and it'd be a waste of time to try and coax it out of him. The two men had enough fun for one day. Maybe next time he’ll try again. “Alright, man. Hey, listen, it was great talking to you and I hope we can do this again sometime."

Axl rolled his eyes, trying his best to fake a genuine impression through gritted teeth. "Yeah, man. Sounds great."

"Tell Roxi I hope to see her again soon."

"She won't be here the next time you call."

Howard paused. Did this manic rockstar catch a glimpse of the future just now? “Really? How can you be so sure?" He queried.

"Because...I just know." After announcing his final words, Axl hung up the phone, and turned his attention towards his lover. "Thank you, baby. You did good."

Roxanne sat on her haunches, staring at her King. "Why won't I be able to talk to Howard again?" She asked curiously. She didn't mind not speaking to him, the interview was awkward enough for her. She hated how Howard put her on the spot in front of millions of listeners. But she also wanted to know the reasoning behind it. If her was willing to tell her.

Axl hummed, using his thumb to swipe a droplet of cum from her lower lip. "Because…that's not how it works."

Taglist:

Side-note: if anybody else wants to be added on my taglist for certain eras/characters, let me know!

[thekatebridgerton]

Also here's another story I wish someone would write inspired in my current late night sleep deprived scrolling and too much Rock of Ages clips:

Colin Bridgerton Rock Star who has lost himself in sex drugs and alcohol to cope with the decline of his song writing inspiration. Enter Penelope Featherington, former childhood friend turned, rolling stone journalist who interviewed Colin for the magazine and wrote a terribly unflattering article (so what if she chewed him up and told him he was an irresponsible child who needed to man up, so what if he accused her of literally running away from their friendship when he got famous and forgetting he existed until this dang interview, so what if they had hate sex! So what if she ruined him for all other women) What Colin cares about is that he needs to find her again and make her retract what she wrote about him in Rolling Stone!!

Side plots Featuring Anthony, Benedict and Gregory, band mates who are sick of him and coping with Colin's trainwreck lifestyle by equally trainwrecking their own lives.

Anthony is a recovering sex addict with a bunch of groupie girlfriends that always follow him around who has fallen head over heels for his ball busting bodyguard Kate. Yes he's fallen for Kate! Who would rather meet his crazy fans with a glock at dawn than let him buy her a drink, Kate with walls a mile high who roundhouse kicked him the last time he told her she looked hot. Kate who smiles at him when she thinks he's not looking and thinks he's going to propose to her sister. Why did he fall inlove with Kate? He likes her! Why can't she like him back? Kate is willing to take a bullet for him but she won't let him anywhere near her heart. So sex drugs and alcohol it is, maybe if Kate sees how much of a trainwreck he can be, she will quit and cease tormenting him. If Anthony can't have Kate then nothing matters anymore

Benedict resident polyamory Rock Star fresh out of a breakup with his other two equally famous significant others, trying to ' create art' and cover Colin and Anthony's messes only to find his muse in a one night stand he had when he was super wasted. Granted the new housekeeper his mom hired for the band seems awfully familiar, but this Sophie girl is just too cute to be his sexy goddess of silver. Doesn't mean he hasn't tried to bang Sophie, but she said she's not into meaningless flings with washed up bass players, so fine no sleeping with her, he will treat her like an employee too, but as an employer he needs her to remain around him all the time, when Sophie smiles she helps him get back his inspiration, he can paint again when she's around, that's all that's keeping his attention, of course he wants Sophie to see him as a man, but its okay if she doesn't... Right? Right??

Then there's Gregory, the drummer, trying to make it in the Rock Star scene, and keep his older brothers from doing a full kamikaze on their relationships and their band. He's so lucky he's got his best friend Lucy supporting him trough this, dang it would suck if Lucy didn't come to his concerts or gave him a listening ear. She's trying to make it in Hollywood as a Disney actress and she's been Gregorys rock, her agent is a bit of a diva but if Lucy gets a shot at stardom Greg encourages her to go for it. That's until news of Lucy's relationship with pop idol Haselbaby reaches Gregory. What do you mean his Lucy is dating some pop idiot who can't even sing? Why would she? She's his best...his best... oh forget it Lucy is HIS, and no Disney romance publicity stunt is going to stop him from taking her back and making her his girlfriend. And with brothers too dumb to tell him not to be stupid, he's about to destroy Lucy's entire Disney career by kidnapping her and bringing her on tour with him. If the media won't give his Lucy attention unless she gives them drama, his stunt will make her name flash in headlines for years to come!.

Violet please come get your Rock Band, the boys are mucking things up again!!

[witchwrestler]

'THE PUNK SINGER' (PART II)

"AFTERMATH"

part I

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): cursing, mention of rehab, jail

summary: The one person you thought would be across the country---turns out to be right there. Once buried feelings are found dug up, or maybe they were never buried, just hidden.

a/n: I am so proud of this series so far, and having a great time writing it. Get ready for this to be the slowest of slow build ups (sorry). if there's punctuation errors..shh i suck at checking for them. I really hope you enjoy this part, there's more to come. any interaction is greatly appreciated, thanks for reading!!!!!

"Your pride has built a wall

So strong that I can't get through "

● ● ●

"Hello?" Eddie's voice said, tired and raspy on the other line. You froze. Usually you didn't freeze, you always had something to say. But something about his voice made your muscles tense up. You took one last deep breathe and spoke.

"Hi." there was a long pause between the two of you before you broke the silence. "I'm in Boston. I got arrested. You were the only person I could think to call. I don't even know why, I just needed to call somebody." You explained, your eyes looking up at the ceiling, trying to pretend like this wasn't real.

"Who--...oh." He said, realizing who was on the other end of the phone. "Are you ok?" Eddie said, his voice sweet as honey, like nothing ever happened.

"I'm ok."

"Good. Just..uhm, hang tight. ok?" He said, sighing between words. Then before you knew it, the dial tone sounded once more.

● ● ●

The last time you spoke to eddie, you were couch surfing, selling diy cassettes at your bands tiny-venue concerts. Now you had a top floor apartment in the city. It wasn't huge, but you were finally stable. You self produced and released the bands breakthrough album, "dehuman" affectionately called by rolling stone, "yowling and moronic". Though rolling stone was quite opinionated, the album did well. It was well received in the punk scene, and at least 400 copies sold in record stores in the year it'd been out. People liked it enough that you had been consistently opening for bands. Currently, you had just finished a tour opening for sonic youth. The band had made a name for itself, no longer did people know you as "Corroded Coffin singers ex girlfriend".

● ● ●

He had tried to run after you that night. Not that it would've changed anything, your pride was too important to you to forgive him that easy. And he knew it. But he still tried.

After running two blocks and finding you standing on a corner, he caught his breathe and tried to mend what he'd broken. "please. please talk to me. It can't end like this. I didn't mean it like that" He pleaded. "Ok well then how did you mean it, eddie? because it sure as hell fucking sounded like you had just been waiting to tell me how bad I am at my job"

He paused, catching his breath. "No that's---shit. I was drunk, I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry!" You stopped walking for a moment and said, scowling "well then start fucking thinking eddie." You didn't care that he was drunk, you cared that he thoughtlessly told you nobody would ever want to sign your band. Your band was your life, it was your job. And in your mind he had just chucked your life and job into the trash bin.

You turned around and walked another block to your place. Unknowingly leaving eddie stood where you left him, feeling like a grade-A fucking loser.

You admit it now that you felt a little bit bad leaving it like that. But he was clearly much more focused on taking his band to the next level, and leaving him behind felt right in the moment.

● ● ●

It's all everybody ever wanted to talk about, "Eddie Munson's messy breakup with up and coming punk rocker" and "Corroded Coffin star in rehab----Punk rocker girlfriend breaks it off" Claiming "insider sources" told them all the details and painting you the villain because it was easy to blame you and your loudness.

The more articles you read speculating why the relationship ended, the more you wished they knew that the two of you just had to go your separate ways. It was messy, but his band was gaining rapid popularity. You were moving in place, you needed room to grow. Maybe it was a jab to your pride when it ended. But as time went on you had no ill feelings toward him. And if you knew anything about love, it was a complicated entity, and sometimes it found its way back to you in really fucking weird ways.

Eddie never spoke a bad word about you in interviews, when he heard your music he turned it up, and when your album came out he bought it. He was always your biggest supporter, but that night he was drunk and mean. And he wished every day that he could take it back, but all he could do was move forward. So he got sober, and he moved forward in the only way he knew how. With music.

The phone call shocked him awake at 2 in the morning, the last leg of tour coming to a close, coincidentally in Boston. He stretched and yawned before he answered, at first, he didn't recognize the voice. But your voice wasn't that easy to forget, it stuck in his brain like his favorite song. He wanted to be angry, that this is how you talk to him again. But he couldn't find it in him. If he was being honest with himself, even if he wasn't in Boston he would have found a way to get you. He wouldn't leave you like that, he couldn't.

● ● ●

The stations fluorescent lighting flickered and hummed as you lay on the bench in the holding cell. You still hadn't fully processed what "hang tight" meant. You weren't really expecting anything, you just needed to tell someone. Your mom would have answered with "What'd you do this time?". The band was probably too drunk to care. At least somebody knew that asshole didn't kill you.

You'd mostly convinced yourself that he hated you. Y'know with ignoring all his calls for two years, even when he was in rehab. You were never good with goodbyes, it always ended awkwardly. Most often, it ended in you avoiding them completely. Which is exactly what you did to eddie. And instead of regretting it you just attempted to forget, even when you knew you didn't want to. You called him once, but you couldn't seem to talk. The two of you just stood in silence for ten minutes until you finally put you both out of the respective misery and hung up. You tried writing notes, which you still had. Every time something exciting would happen you'd document it in a note to eddie, but you'd never send them. No, you were far too stubborn.

Your thighs stuck to the cold metal of the bench you laid on, peeling like a bandaid when you moved. You sat up and the officer was unlocking the holding cell, giving you a sour look. You didn't blame him. You socked him a mere two hours ago. His nose was crooked. "Someone posted your bail, you're free to go"

You gave the officer a nod and thanked him sarcastically as you slowly stepped out of the cell. And then there he was.

His hair seemed to be better kept. He looked exactly the same aside from the fact that in place of his ripped black jeans he was wearing gray sweats, but the band tee and battle vest remained. Like glue.

"Long time no see, munson."

He chuckled, shaking his head as if in doubt.

"Yeah, Long time no see."

He pauses, thinking to himself that even though after 2 years, the butterflies in his stomach still persisted.

[twopoppies]

Would you have a rolling stone subscription or any of your followers please? https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/american-idol-lgbtq-contestants-1235027350/

It doesn't seem to be behind any sort of paywall for me, but I tend tp be cautious when reposting entire articles because blogs have been taken down for it before. Here's most of the worst of it, though. DM me if you want more and can't access it.

Travis wasn’t aware that he couldn’t carry a tune until his audition aired on TV a year later, in January 2006. Seated in the living room of the same halfway-house counselor who had driven him to the audition, he thought to himself, “God, I do suck.” But the realization was too late. His phone was already being blitzed with calls, first check-ins from friends and family members and then requests for interviews with People and Us Weekly. Soon after, Travis says the LGBTQ+ advocacy group GLAAD (which did not respond to a request for comment on this story) telephoned with the offer of taking action against Idol on his behalf. He thought to himself, “What the fuck did I just do?”

The public reaction to Travis’ off-key rendition of Whitney Houston’s 1993 single “Queen of the Night” is perhaps most succinctly summed up by the title of a YouTube video of the tryout: “American Idol Audition Boy or Girl.” Travis wore bell-bottom jeans in a feminine cut and a white tank top to his audition, pulling his wavy blonde hair behind his ears. Simon Cowell, infamously the harshest critic among the show’s original trio of judges, appeared horrified by the sight of Travis, his mouth agape. After Randy Jackson, the panel’s swing vote, kicked things off by asking the contestant to say “something interesting” about himself, Cowell asked, “That’s necessary, is it?” Cowell proceeded to stop Travis in the middle of his performance, which he called “confused.”

Travis has come a long way since Idol. After pivoting to a successful career in gay porn under the name Kirk Cummings, he retired from the adult entertainment industry and now works as a dog groomer, a profession he finds peaceful. But even 19 years later, he finds the footage of his audition tough to watch. As he left the studio in tears, editors added the theme music to The Crying Game, the 1992 film that uses the sight of a trans woman’s body to shock viewers. Today, Travis presents as male and uses masculine pronouns, but at the time of his audition, he had hoped to someday transition. He even had his new name picked out: Kelly. When he was incarcerated, others would try to dissuade him from pursuing a future as a trans person by telling him that it’s a “really hard life,” and Idol seemed to prove them all right. 

“I thought, ‘Wow, if this is how my life’s going to be, then I don’t want any part of it,’” he says. “My experience is not the normal experience of a trans person, but because I had chosen to be on a television show, I saw the worst of it.”

Open cruelty is no longer part of the Idol brand, now that the show is in its second run on ABC after Fox canceled the long-running program in 2015. The series, like much of contemporary reality TV, now trades on positivity, and the annual tradition of airing bad auditions has long been discontinued. But during the height of its popularity in the 2000s, schadenfreude was a major part of the show’s appeal. While launching the careers of instant household names like Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, Idol was also the show where tens of millions of viewers watched Cowell tell Season Three contestant Heather Piccinini that she’s “ugly” when she sings and belittle Season Five’s Crystal Parizanski for overtanning; he even pulled Parizanski’s mother into the room to humiliate the contestant further. The show’s June 2002 premiere, in which Cowell advised a young woman to sue her vocal coach, made it clear what Idol would be selling.

That feed-them-to-the-lions approach made Idol the number-one program on TV six years running, the longest stretch at the top in broadcast history — but the show tended to prey on its most vulnerable contestants, perhaps unwittingly. Idol producers were forced to issue an apology after Cowell compared Season Six hopeful Kenneth Briggs, who has facial malformations due to Aarskog Syndrome, to a “bush baby.” Season Five’s Paula Goodspeed took her own life outside judge Paula Abdul’s home in 2008 after Cowell criticized the contestant’s metal braces following a performance of the Creedence Clearwater Revival/Ike and Tina Turner standard “Proud Mary.” Goodspeed was reportedly an obsessive stalker who changed her given name in tribute to Abdul, and the contest judge publicly criticized Idol’s producers for not doing more to protect her, saying she alerted them to Goodspeed’s behavior prior to the audition. (A spokesperson for the show did not comment on Abdul’s accusation at the time.)

Among those most targeted by Idol’s alleged abuses were anyone who was outside of the norm, as defined by the extremely narrow standards of Bush-era popular culture. This often included contestants who were experiencing mental health issues, individuals with disabilities, people of color, and plus-size singers like the late Mandisa Huntley, the Season Five contestant of whom Cowell infamously asked: “Do we have a bigger stage this year?” But Idol enjoyed a particularly contentious relationship with the queer contestants who hoped that the series would offer their big break into an unforgiving industry, many of whom had only started to come to an understanding of their LGBTQ+ identities. In another exchange condemned by GLAAD, Cowell told Travis’ fellow Season Five hopeful Charles Berry, who now is an out gay man, to shave off his beard and “wear a dress,” saying that he would make a “great female impersonator.”

Keith Beukelaer, whom Cowell famously called “the worst singer in the world,” knew immediately after his Season Two audition that it would end up being broadcast. “It’s something that I don’t know if I ever fully recovered from,” he says. “I remember it as if it was yesterday.” A devoted Madonna fan, he performed “Like a Virgin” in a green mock-turtleneck sweater, gyrating his body in sync with the song’s suggestive lyrics. Beukelaer has come to understand himself as having Asperger’s Syndrome, although he didn’t have the language for it at the time, and he came out as gay a few years after appearing on the program. He still struggles with the notoriety that his brief appearance on Idol brought, the decades of mockery that followed six minutes of air time.

Cowell did not return multiple requests for comment for this story. Neither did Jackson, longtime host Ryan Seacrest, or Idol creator Simon Fuller — who based the show off his own U.K. series Pop Idol, which aired from 2001 to 2003. But a source close to the production, who requested not to be named in this story, defended the show by affirming that “every single person who came on Idol, whatever their race, color, creed, or sexual preferences, was placed squarely in the firing line for Simon’s barbed critiques.”

[...]

What was a queer paradise for some, however, was a nightmare for others. Of those who spoke on the record, many say that Idol effectively forced them into the closet, and they believe it’s because the show was fearful that an openly queer contestant would alienate the show’s largely conservative viewership.

[...]

There was no rule saying that queer contestants couldn’t discuss their personal lives, but some singers say that Idol made it clear that some things were best kept secret. R.J. Helton, who uses they/them pronouns, went back into the closet and started dating a woman before they auditioned for Idol’s first season, hoping to make their family happy. Helton’s parents always envisioned that they would become a pastor or a Christian music artist, and when Helton’s boy band, the Soul Focus, went their separate ways, competing on Idol felt like a logical next step. Having recently broken things off with their fiancée, not wanting to live a lie, Helton began seeing their Idol stand-in during the season. Although they kept the romance a secret from producers, Helton says the other contestants knew. “None of them cared,” they say. “It was the first time that I felt accepted by a group of people.”

Idol producers never found out about the relationship, but the stakes were nonetheless made clear when executive producer Nigel Lythgoe, the show’s most influential creative voice, pulled Helton aside after seeing them exchange a friendly peck on the cheek with a male member of the crew. “Listen, we love you,” Helton says the producer told them. “We think you’re great, but let’s continue on the sweet side, with the Christian boy thing.” In their on-camera interviews and stage performances, Helton says they tried to tone down their natural ebullience, “butching it up” and staying as quiet as possible. A team of publicists, they recall, followed Helton everywhere “because they didn’t want me to break character.” 

In an email to Rolling Stone, Lythgoe asserts that he “never stopped any contestant from coming out” and says he “never would have done so.” “I did work with a number of individuals who, sadly, were struggling with issues around coming out, and I provided feedback that was very common at the time: that they should let their talent do the talking and not allow others to denigrate them based on their personal lives,” he says. “If anyone was hurt by my advice on those issues, I can only apologize, but I only ever wanted to help and support the wonderful young people who competed on the first seasons of Idol, several of whom, tragically, were torn between a desire to live their truth openly and a great fear about how they would be treated on returning home by their families, by their communities, and even by God.”

Helton, now with the clarity of hindsight, wishes they’d had the confidence to present their full self to America. After being dropped from their record label following a 2006 interview in which they came out as gay, Helton recently came to the realization of their nonbinary identity. “I know it was a different generation, but there are parts of me that think: ‘If I could have worn a gorgeous evening gown with a full beard, I could have won,’” Helton says. When producers would tap them on the shoulder to remind them, “Hey, we don’t talk about this,” it made Helton scared of losing the only affirmation they’d ever had. “As a young person, that really plays with your psyche, especially when you’re not used to the spotlight, loads of fans, or the money. You just do what you’re told. I don’t know if that’s selling your soul to the devil, but it did feel like that. They lifted me up, put me on a pedestal, and told me that the pedestal will only be there as long as I play this part.”

Helton’s fellow Season One cast member Jim Verraros has spent years in therapy working to unlearn many of the unfortunate lessons he says Idol taught him, namely that it wasn’t OK to be himself. That education began with the Pygmalion-esque makeover given to the show’s aspiring superstars: Idol immediately traded in his nerdy aesthetic — wiry glasses and jean jackets with the collar popped — for a generic rock look, sleeveless vests with leather cuff bracelets. He got contacts, lowered his voice half an octave, and put away what he calls the “theatrical and stage part of me that comes also from having deaf parents and being expressive.” “It comes at a cost,” he says. “When you’re told that you aren’t enough — or that this version of you doesn’t work — you spend a big part of your life taking parts away from you so that you can achieve those dreams.”

Although Verraros made the Top 10 of his season, he struggled with the role created for him, and the miscasting of a nebbishy gay Midwestern boy as a conservative-friendly heartthrob led to friction with the show’s creative team. Former co-host Brian Dunkleman, who emceed Idol’s first season alongside Ryan Seacrest, says he overheard Cowell and Randy Jackson discussing plans to directly target Verraros, hoping to get a strong reaction out of him that they could film. “We’re gonna nail Jim,” he recalls the judges saying as they were having coffee in an Idol break room. Cowell tended to reserve his harshest critiques of the show’s inaugural cast for Verraros, and following that discussion, he told the contestant live on air, “I think if you win this competition, we would have failed.”

Idol did get the emotional reaction it sought from Verraros in a scene that ultimately landed on the cutting-room floor. Prior to the announcement of the season’s Top 10 finalists, Dunkleman says that Cowell informed the contestants they would be using the “judges’ veto” to oust one of them from the show. “Jim, you’re out of the competition,” Cowell told Verraros, prompting the young singer to burst into tears. (That’s when Dunkleman recalls that Lythgoe came over and instructed everyone to sing a modified version of the Monkees’ “Daydream Believer” to brighten Verraros’ spirits. “Cheer up, sleepy Jim,” fellow contestants sang together in unison.) For reasons that are unclear, Lythgoe opted to backtrack on the judges’ decision, Dunkleman says, allowing Verraros to move forward to the next round after all. “Later that night, I was at dinner and I got a pretty frantic message from Nigel saying, ‘Look, there’s been a change. Jim is back in the competition. Just please don’t tell anybody about anything that happened today,’” Dunkleman remembers. “And then the next night he made the Top 10.”

Those incidents, Dunkleman adds, played a major role in his decision to part ways with Idol, calling the program “evil.” He also recalls that a judging panel needed to be refilmed so Cowell could call Helton a “loser” instead of a “monkey.” “That’s what it was,” he says of Idol. “It was about how mean they were. It was about how shocking this was and how much they were making fun of these singers.” He isn’t sure, though, why the show singled Helton and Verraros out in particular. “Is it conscious targeting or is it subconscious? That kind of undertone, maybe they weren’t even aware of it.”

[...]

AMERICAN IDOL often strained to fit queer contestants into an instantly recognizable mold that producers could market for the widest possible audience. Simon Cowell declared that he would quit the program if Sanjaya Malakar, an affable Season Six hopeful with a perpetual smile, won the competition. Malakar, who is half Bengali and performed with the Hawaii Children’s Theater during his time living in Kauai, was unlike any singer the show had ever seen. He was earnest and goofy, striding up to the judges’ table to dance with Paula Abdul during a performance of Irving Berlin’s “Cheek to Cheek.” He also straddled the lines of gender, flat-ironing his chameleonic locks for a winsome cover of John Mayer’s “Waiting on the World To Change.” After weeks of all but begging viewers to vote Malakar off the show, Cowell commented regarding the latter song: “Maybe it’s your hair that’s keeping you in. I don’t know.”

Malakar came out as bisexual many years after Idol was over, finding himself after taking a job at a karaoke bar in New York where he found freedom in anonymity. What was hardest for Malakar to navigate, he says, was not the constant scrutiny from Idol’s judges but the vitriolic reaction from fans. A MySpace blogger vowed to stop eating until Malakar was sent home, although the contestant outlasted the hunger strike, which ceased after 16 days. The website Vote for the Worst, which urged fans to subvert the Idol system by keeping on its quirkiest and most divisive contestants, took up Malakar as a personal cause.

Looking back, Malakar believes that it’s the ambiguity of how he presented that bothered people so much. The judges and viewers just couldn’t figure him out because, as a 17-year-old kid who hadn’t graduated high school yet, he hadn’t figured himself out. “There was no way to really understand how to define me,” he says. “They didn’t know what culture I was. They didn’t know what sexuality I was. They didn’t know what genre I was. I was this anomaly that made people uncomfortable.”

The queer singers who had the most painful time being reshaped by the Idol system were those who stood out the most, whether they were flamboyant and over-the-top in their performance style, like Malakar, or their gender presentation skewed toward the effeminate. Season Eight runner-up Adam Lambert — who declined to speak for this story, citing his shooting schedule for The Voice Australia, on which he is a judge — has said that queer contestants who didn’t have the ability to hide were used by Idol as “comic relief.” “Anytime someone came on the show that was perceived to be gay or it was obvious enough that they were gay, they were a joke,” he remarked to the British music magazine NME in a 2018 interview. He added: “To be fair, some of them weren’t great singers, but there were a couple of really good singers that came on. And they weren’t taken seriously.”

To illustrate his point, Lambert noted the example of Adore Delano from Seasons Six and Seven, who would later contend on the reality competition show RuPaul’s Drag Race. Delano declined to participate in this story, but in a 2023 Instagram video publicly announcing her transition, she said that she went back into the closet to compete on Idol. Appearing on the show led her to suppress her transness in order to present herself as “something that was so uncomfortable,” she recalled. And yet her effervescent femininity couldn’t be contained: During her second appearance on Idol, she performed a sassy rendition of “Jailhouse Rock” by Elvis Presley that Cowell deemed “hideous” and “verging on the grotesque.” Delano was ultimately eliminated from the Top 16 after a performance of Soft Cell’s queer anthem “Tainted Love” that Cowell declared “absolutely useless.” She dyed her silky hair purple for the number.

Like Delano, Atlas Marshall auditioned for Idol twice, making it to the Top 36 in Season Eight and then trying out again for Season 16. Both experiences were extremely fraught. Following a performance of Meat Loaf’s “I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)” during her first appearance on the show, Cowell looked at Marshall and remarked, “I think you probably would.” Even as a guileless 18-year-old with frosted emo bangs and angel-bite piercings, Marshall realized it was a “loaded comment.” “The joke around that song is that it’s about anal sex,” she says. After the audience booed Cowell’s remark, Ryan Seacrest, then the show’s sole emcee, invited Marshall to come sit on the judge’s lap, but Paula Abdul intervened and beckoned the contestant to rest on hers instead. Marshall was voted off Idol the next day.

[...] Marshall’s mother, who recently passed away, was a lesbian, and she raised her child in a queer household where it was OK to be “open, flamboyant, and fabulous,” as Marshall recalls. Being taught by Idol that the outside world might mock the parts of herself she was taught to embrace was a rude awakening. “For so long, there was a lot of shame around it,” she says of her first Idol experience. “I felt gross. I didn’t like myself.”

[...]

While the team behind Idol’s current iteration did not offer a comment on the record, the source close to the Fox production contests the idea that the show stopped contestants from expressing their most authentic selves, while adding that “coming out might have damaged certain contestants’ chances for success.” “No one ever prevented anyone from doing so, but there was often a sense — right or wrong — that it would be better if the American public’s vote was based more on their judgment about the performers’ talent rather than their sexual orientations,” the source says.

[...]

Although it would feel convenient to point the finger solely at Idol, the show at its peak reflected America’s culture as much as it defined it. When the series premiered in 2002, polling from Gallup showed that 43 percent of the U.S. populace still thought homosexuality should be illegal; Lawrence v. Texas, the Supreme Court ruling that struck down sodomy laws in the 14 states where gay sex was still illegal, wouldn’t be issued for another year. A majority of Americans wouldn’t support the right of same-sex couples to marry until 2011, during Idol’s tenth season on the air. That was also, coincidentally, the first season not to feature either Paula Abdul or Simon Cowell on the judges panel. Abdul, hailed by sources as a major supporter of queer contestants behind the scenes, parted ways with the program after Season Eight. Cowell left the following year to launch the U.S. spinoff of The X Factor, the British singing competition he created in 2004.

[...]

For all the troubles that some queer contestants say they had on the show, many argue that Idol’s missteps paled in comparison to how cruelly they were treated by the rest of the media, the music industry, and even America at large. Idol voters eliminated Season Seven’s David Hernandez the week after an Associated Press story revealed that he had previously worked as a dancer at a Arizona strip club that catered to a “mostly male” clientele. By that time, photos that allegedly showed Hernandez bartending at a gay nightclub had already been published on Vote for the Worst, although Hernandez says the pictures weren’t even of him. He says that Idol was already well aware of his work history by the time the reports surfaced, as he disclosed the information in the extensive questionnaire the show required contestants to complete; spanning over 100 pages in length, it also asked singers to name their past sexual and romantic partners.

[...]

The media persecution of queer Idol contestants was so de rigueur during the show’s imperial era that few even questioned it. Jim Verraros’ coming out in 2002 prompted a two-page spread in the Globe, a U.S. supermarket tabloid, asking: “Who’s Next?” Chatter surrounding Adam Lambert’s sexuality made the New York Times after photos circulated of the singer, eyes covered in makeup and glitter all over his face, locking lips with another man. Following the Season Two finale, Clay Aiken says that the first question that he was ever asked by a reporter was: “Are you gay?” He wouldn’t formally come out until a 2008 People magazine cover story coinciding with the birth of his son, and for years, he says, confirmation of his sexual orientation “was the only thing that anybody in the press wanted” from him. “I never did an interview where somebody was not trying to ask me if I was gay,” he says, later adding: “Everybody wanted to be the one who got it.”

Aiken says that speculation regarding his sexuality reached such a fever pitch that, for a time, he stopped leaving his house. Even then, there was no hiding from it: “If I heard anybody setting up a gay joke on a sitcom or a late-night show, I held my breath because I knew my name was coming. Eighty percent of the time I was right.” The topic was a frequent punchline of late-night host Jimmy Kimmel, who frequently booked Aiken to appear on his show, and comedian Kathy Griffin spent a full 15 minutes discussing Aiken’s sexuality in a 2005 stand-up special on Bravo. “I do find him to allegedly be the gayest man in the free world,” she said in the routine, calling him “Gayken” to hearty applause from the crowd. Even two years after he had actually come out, a Season Eight episode of Family Guy saw Stewie, during a parody of Family Feud, being asked to name a “popular fruit” and responding: “Clay Aiken.” “I laugh at them now,” he says of the jokes, noting that he calls Griffin a friend. “I find them hilarious now, but at the time, it hurt a lot.”

Full article here

[i-didnt-do-1t]

And what if the Delanceys ran into Katherine, after the fight but before the scene in Pulitzer’s office.

It was a dusty cobble-stoned back alley they spotted her in; a familiar head of auburn hair, with her chin tipped up in some over-confident mockery of determination as she walked, shoulders back like she belonged there, or at least trying to pretend she did. As if the money evident all over her wasn’t evidence enough that she wasn’t from round these parts, the expensive heavy fabric of her dress that actually fit properly, obviously tailored, the curl of her hair, the way she held herself. It was a part of town she really shouldn’t be in around at this time in the evening, and one she never would’ve been in, if it weren’t for the strike; the lodging house was maybe three or four street overs.

A newspaper, and Morris could only assume it was the one published this morning by The Sun, was tucked under her arm as she walked. Oscar had spotted her too, he could tell, the way he went still beside him, held out an arm in front on him to stop him walking any further.

“You think Pulitzer’s told her she’s banned from publishin’ in all the papes?”

It had been an interesting morning, hanging around Pulitzers office, a ceiling higher than he’d ever seen a building have aside from maybe a church, big heavy doors that didn’t creak, a soft carpeted floor. Him and Oscar had spent most of the day leant against a wall in the corner, not being spoken to or acknowledged, but listening. Oscar had leant forward and paid even closer attention at the talk of bringing Snyder in.

It was late now though, and Morris had to admit he was exhausted, an early start and a boring day always tended to do that to him but Oscar had wanted to go out for drinks so they’d found themselves wondering for a bar he hadn’t got banned from yet.

Oscar glanced at him, and then swiftly refocused his gaze on her. He matched his question with one of his own. “You think she’s told Kelly she’s Joe’s daughter.”

Morris’s lip twitched, he shrugged lazily as he reached for the pack of cigarettes tucked into his jacket pocket. He didn’t have to ask Oscar for the matches, just held his hand out and Oscar rolled his eyes and dropped them in his palm.

“Think we should go ask her?”

Morris held his cigarette between his teeth, and shook out the match, a wafting string of smoke rising from it before dissipating. “Sure.”

The thing was, Oscar could be subtle when he wanted. He frequently wondered around the house near silently, and he’d unintentionally made Morris jump more than once by just appearing. But Morris supposed that with spending so much time being treated like he wasn’t there, some of it must’ve been internalised, that being invisible must’ve become like second nature.

But Oscar wasn’t being subtle right now. The backstreet, aside from the click of her heels on the cobble, was empty, quiet, until he yelled.

“Oi. Pulitzer.” His voice seemed to reverberate.

The click of heels stopped, and Morris took a long drag of his cigarette, following closely behind Oscar as he approached her.

His brother lightly cracked his neck as he went, that smile that Morris knew meant trouble spreading as easy as butter across his face; equal parts charming and unnerving, because Oscar always loved confrontation when it looked like this, when he knew there was no danger of him losing.

Katherine’s shoulders had seemed to square even further, Morris observed, her jaw hard, lips tight as if she’d eaten something sour, as she glanced between them both. Oscar was closer now, and Morris decided it was his place to lean against the scraping red brick wall behind him, sucking in more smoke and exhaling and just watching.

“Do I know you.” Katherine said, and her voice sounded like money, full without an accent rounding off the edges.

“Wrote some damn scathin’ shit in the article for pretending not to know us.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone after the boys with bats.”

“We all got different jobs Pulitzer.” She paled slightly, at hearing her name, and Morris watched as Oscar’s eyes lit up slightly. She didn’t know they knew. “An’ we’re gettin’ paid to make sure they go back to work.”

“And you really don’t have any moral qualms with that-“

“With takin’ your da’s money? No, I ain’t. It lines my pockets real nice.”

Morris felt his own lip twitch up around the cigarette, he exhaled smoke and felt her gaze jump to him briefly. She looked near white with how pale she was, he acknowledged. Morris and Oscar had some colour to them at least, it was summer after all. The spattering of freckles had already broken out on his face and Oscar’s arms, hours of working out in the sun in mid summer. She was like a clean sheet of paper.

“My father isn’t a good man.” Her voice didn’t shake but it wasn’t as steady as he’d heard it.

“Yeah? He pays well if you do what he asks.”

“Lapdogs, then.”

Morris, entirely without meaning to, barked out a laugh. “We ain’t the ones newly banned from publishin’ strike news.”

She stared at him, eyebrows furrowing. Oscar was still wearing that smile and the silence seemed to drag on for as long as it took morris’s to exhale the drag of his cigarette.

“What?” She asked.

“You ain’t heard yet?” Her attention was once again, on Oscar. “Your daddy ain’t want you writin’ about this no more. No one’s gonna publish it.”

In one smooth movement, Oscar snatched the paper from under her arm, ignored her single attempt to grab it back from him, the way her breath hitched in what he could only assume was anger. Her jaw was hard. She looked tense

“Newsies stop the world.” Oscar read out, and the tone in his voice was mocking. Mean. A far cry from the anger he’d snapped it with this morning as they were unloading the papers. It had taken longer than usual, stiff and torn up from the fight the day before. They both still looked rough now, blackening bruising around Oscar’s neck, and Morris knew he was sporting a black eye.

Pulitzer didn’t have a mark on her. He’d heard Kelly snap at her to run before things got bad.

“It’s a good article-“

“It’s bullshit.” Oscar interrupted. “Ain’t no real reporters takin’ this on cause it ain’t news.”

“I am a real reporter.”

“With no newspaper to write for.”

She swallowed, and Morris thought about how small she was, having to stare up to Oscar like she did, 5’4 at best maybe, compared to Oscar’s little over 6 ft.

“You’re just frustrated that I’m a real reporter and all you’re ever going to be is the man that sells the newspapers I write for.”

If she was expecting Oscar to be angry she was wrong, and Morris exhaled smoke and tapped out ash again before grinding out his cigarette on the wall behind him. He pushed himself away from it, tired of this now. He wanted to pass out.

“We’ll be sure to tell Kelly s’what you think of him.”

“That’s not-“

“An’ your daddy wants you home real fast Pulitzer.” Oscar tossed the paper, crumpled now from his grip on it, to the ground at her feet. “He’s puttin’ down some new ground rules.”

He could feels Katherine’s gaze still on them, searching, as Oscar turned back to her; he wordlessly held his hand out to him for a new smoke. He lit up the end of it, and turned around real briefly, spoke between his teeth.

“See you tomorrow, Miss Pulitzer.”

And the two of them, started off shoulder to shoulder, side by side, a new cigarette lit between the two of them, before Katherine could ask what was happening tomorrow.

[duhragonball]

End of Evangelion: 25'

Yeah... that's...

"You don't understand!" is pretty much Neon Genesis Evangelion in a nutshell.

Or "You do (not) understand! (true²) Director's Cut" is how the franchise would put it.

Let's just get on with this.

I watched End of Evangelion last night. Well, early A.M. I took a nap and woke up at midnight and it seemed like the right time to watch a thing like this.

I did not enjoy the movie. I'll explain this, of course, but I wanted to get that out of the way up front. There are positives, sure, but I went into this thing hoping for a more satisfying conclusion than what was presented in the TV show, and I didn't get it. Both endings suck. There you go.

Let me back up a bit. So the TV series ran from 1995 to 1996. The final episodes, 25 and 26, were controversial because they were expected to wrap up the whole story, but instead they went in a bizarrely abstract direction. Both of those episodes apparently take place inside Shinji Ikari's mind as he struggles to accept being part of a collective gestalt of every human mind on Earth. This is the result of the "Human Instrumentality Project" a concept mentioned in Episodes 1 -24, but never adequately explained. The final episodes just skip past the part where Human Instrumentality was achieved and shows the result, without bothering to discuss the background or the cause, or the long-term ramifications.

From what I gather, the main reason Episodes 25 and 26 were Like That was because the studio was short on time and money, so a more satisfying conclusion was not practical. But since the series turned out to be so successful, they were able to take another crack at it with End of Evangelion. The film is very clear about its purpose as an "alternative" to Episodes 25 and 26. It's divided into two sections, numbered 25' and 26'.

I'm not sure the viewer is expected to pick one over the other. The original 25&26 take place in Shinji's mind when Human Instrumentality happens. 25' and 26' take place in the outside world, showing the events leading to Human Instrumentality and the aftermath. There may be some continuity issues to iron out, but a fan could easily accept both endings as canon.

That's not my problem here. The problem is not that there are multiple endings, or that the endings are too "abstract", or that the endings aren't "happy". Fundamentally, my gripe is that the endings are confusing. Perhaps it might be said that the endings are pathologically confusing.

I think this is one of those Big, Emotionally Raw Works, where you can't really discuss it without revealing something about yourself in the process. So let's do that. End of Evangelion makes me feel stupid. There's parts of the movie where I'm just completely confused and I have no idea what is happening or why. It feels less like entertainment and more like I'm about to take a test I didn't study for.

Except I did study, because I've literally been taking notes on this thing for the past three weeks. I was looking forward to this, and last night I'm near the end of the movie wondering what the hell I'm going to write here, because I don't understand what the hell happened in the movie.

So I poked around a fan wiki for a bit, trying to get a handle on some of the major concepts, and as I read the articles, I realized that a lot of this information just stone cold never made it into the TV show or the movie. There was one thing I looked up that had to reference a Playstation 2 game that released six years after the movie premiered.

It's not that I'm too stupid to understand Neon Genesis Evangelion. It's that the franchise appears deliberately designed to hide information from the viewer. You're just supposed to roll with it, I guess. Or spend days researching all this side material. Read the manga, read the wiki, read fan commentaries. I hate this. I hate this so much.

So maybe I'm not stupid. Maybe the anime was just badly designed. That would be comforting, except I still feel stupid for investing so much time into trying to understand this thing that seems purposely rigged to defy understanding. It's not just the ending. That's what everyone talks about, but the ending is just a symptom of a bigger problem. The beginning is really slow. Then the middle starts to get weird, and there's a lot of mysteries and subplots and lore that gets set up with the implied promise that "we'll explain later". And the ending(s) drop that ball. The surgery was a success, but the patient died.

I feel stupid because I got a reply to one of my liveblog posts, I think Episode 12, in response to some comment I made about all the characters having the same backstory. Ritsuko has a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist mother. Misato has a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist father. Shinji has a complicated relationship with his workaholic scientist father. Is that a theme or did they only have one idea? My point is that eventually it stops being clever and starts being redundant. Later, we learn that Asuka has... a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist mother.

"What, are you stupid?" asked the reply guy to my wry observation. They deleted it a few minutes after I saw it, so maybe they felt some remorse over the comment. Normally, I let these things slide. I might respond if I get legitimately hot about it. But this one got to me. "Am I stupid?" I asked myself last week. I seem to be complaining a lot about this show, but it's supposed to be a classic. Am I not giving it a chance? Am I missing something here? Am I just not smart enough to appreciate this thing? Am I just not trying hard enough?

If you're reading this, Reply Guy, please know that I didn't take it personally. I'm not upset with you at all, but I am trying to be honest with myself about this. This Neon Genesis Evangelion business has been frustrating me all month long. Now I'm at the end and it all feels very hollow, like I wasted my time.

I think that's my philosophy on life. I try to seek out new things to explore, usually stories, and sometimes they don't work out the way I wanted them to, and that's okay, because it's the journey that counts. Shinji Ikari keeps shutting down throughout his story, asking why he should bother doing anything, because he's too terrified of the possible outcomes of his actions. My thing is that bad stuff happens all the time no matter what, and you just sort of have to recover and move forward, because that's the only way to see what happens next. So I'm not sure if I can relate to Shinji or not.

Anyway, let's talk about Shinji masturbating in a hospital room over Asuka's comatose body.

I had heard about this scene, but I didn't realize how long and pathetic it is. Asuka had a nervous breakdown in Episode 23. This movie has to follow up on that, becuase Episodes 24, 25, and 26 each refused to pick up on her character arc.

Meanwhile, Shinji is wracked with guilt and dread over his battle with the 17th Angel in Episode 24. He had to kill Kaworu, but in spite of Kaworu's betrayal, he was still a friend to Shinji when he needed it the most, and he was such a good sport about getting killed, you know?

So this movie has to get us back to that moment, when Shinji and Asuka are at their lowest ebb, and I guess they decided that Shinji should go see her in the hospital because he's desperate to talk to someone about what's he's been going through. But Asuka's unresponsive, so he starts shaking her like he's trying to wake her up. Instead she just rolls over, which somehow exposes her half-naked body, and Shinji is so overcome with lust that he rubs one out right there and then. Doesn't even get a Kleenex, doesn't find a place to sit, he just whips it out and goes to town right in front of her.

I guess this is supposed to be a joke, but it doesn't land. It's not even a matter of the joke not aging well. Yeah, this is a 27 year old movie, but Shinji admits this is terrible behavior almost immediately. The "joke" didn't age at all. It was stillborn. This is like when you go to a graveyard and you see one of the tiny graves and the dates are from the same year. That's how funny this is.

The most charitable reading I can give this scene is that it represents the hypocrisy of Shinji's whole deal. He constantly insists that he can only do as he's told, because he's afraid of people not liking him if he makes a mistake or thinks for himself. But here he's doing some pretty disgraceful shit, and I sure as fuck didn't tell him to do this. did you? Did anyone? Of course not. He goes limp for most of the rest of the movie, but not here. Nossir. Seems pretty sure of himself in the minute or so it took him to finish his business.

The other aspect of Shinji on display here is that his ideal social interactions are one-sided. He's most comfortable with people when they can't see what he's doing, when they can't touch him back. That's why he wished for isolation in Episode 25. Here, with Asuka unresponsive, he's basically got the same thing.

I suppose the flip side of this is when Asuka kissed Shinji in the TV series. Her hangups are kind of the opposite of his, where she wants to be in charge of everything and everyone constantly showers her with praise for her achievements. She wants to kiss Shinji but she can't be vulnerable enough to admit that, so she orders him to just stand there and be kissed because she wants to "pass the time". And she makes him hold his nose shut because she doesn't want to be breathed on while she does it. I mean, they both have intimacy issues, but at least Shinji had a chance to consent to her weirdness.

In the NERV base, the crew wonder why they're still on alert status, since the last Angel was defeated. There should be no more threats, and it kind of makes sense for NERV to be disbanded. The only business left is the Human Instrumentality Project, and none of these ham-and-eggers know what that is.

But Misato has some information about it, which she mulls over while she's in her car. I guess? Let me explain this in more detail, because the movie never totally gets into the "why" of it all.

Okay, so the SEELE group has access to something called the "Dead Sea Scrolls". According to the NGE wiki, SEELE got it from the two angels that came to Earth, Adam and Lilith, in the distant past. SEELE has used the information contained in the scrolls to establish themselves as the secret rulers of the whole world. And they founded NERV, and its predecessor organizations, to study the Angels and figure out how to preserve the human race.

They talk a lot about Second Impact on this show, but they never explain exactly what caused it. Second Impact was not a meteorite strike or a rampaging angel who self-destructed, or even a lab accident. It was caused deliberately by SEELE, as part of an effort to contain Adam, who lay dormant in Antarctica.

If I understand correctly, this was necessary because at some point, Second Impact would occur anyway, and then Adam's children, the fifteen Angels we saw in the TV series, would come looking for Adam's body and unite with it, triggering a Third Impact that would definitely wipe out humanity. This is all supposedly explained in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

So SEELE's play was to trigger Second Impact deliberately, so that they could confront the Angels on their own terms. This gave NERV time to develop the Evas to fight the Angels, and to shrink Adam down to a more manageable size so he'd be harder to find.

Once the Angels were all defeated, SEELE could then trigger Third Impact. See, the TV series made it seem like the objective was to prevent Third Impact, but that was never possible. Third Impact is inevitable, I guess, so the only way to ensure humanity's survival is to evolve humans into something that can withstand the disaster. Thus, the Human Instrumentality Project, which will combine all human minds into some sort of disembodied superorganism at the moment of Third Impact.

However, throughout the TV series, SEELE has butted heads with the NERV Director, Gendo Ikari, about how this plan is to be implemented. Gendo wants to transform humanity into something new. But SEELE seems to want to retain their human nature and just use the plan as a lifeboat until the disaster has passed. At least, I think that's the disagreement here. Like I said, I had to learn about SEELE's agenda from the description of the PS2 game. It's not exactly a shock that the cabal of worldly oligarchs should want to save themselves and hold onto their wealth and power at the same time.

Gendo, on the other hand, seems mostly fixated on reuniting with his wife, Yui Ikari, who apparently died in 2004 during an experiment with Eva Unit 01. In the TV series, it was heavily implied that Yui lives on inside of Unit 01. Since Gendo's version of Human Instrumentality involves drawing up human minds into a noncorporeal union, I guess he figures that this will include Yui's mind, even if she has no body. It's unclear in this movie if Gendo actually intends to include anyone but himself and Yui in this merger, but in Episodes 25 and 26 of the TV show, Human Instrumentality is presented like it's all humans, even dead ones, and Gendo Ikari talked about it like that's what his version of Third Impact was supposed to be.

I suppose the only thing keeping Gendo and SEELE from turning on each other was the Angel threat, but now that this is over, SEELE attacks. First they try to hack NERV's supercomputers, but this is foiled when they recruit the aid of...

...Ritsuko Akagai, who betrayed NERV in Episode 23 when she destroyed all the Rei clones they had in storage. But she's the only one smart enough with computers to block the hack, so she crawls back inside one of them and uses her dead mother's notes to build a more robust firewall or something. I think she j-pegged a RAM or something, I don't know.

Ritsuko wonders why she's even bothering, since she already turned on Gendo. They had been banging on the down-low, but she got fed up with him when she realized he loved his dead wife more than Ritsuko or her mother, who also used to bang Gendo on the down-low.

With that cyberattack fended off, NERV now has to brace for an actual attack. Admiral Clownshoes notes the irony of NERV defeating all those Angels, only for their final opponent to be the humans they were trying to save.

Tactically, the entire battle is a formality. SEELE runs the whole world, and they can send wave after wave of soldiers into the NERV facility, which is already badly weakened after months of Angel attacks and budget cuts. NERV's defenses were designed for dealing with Angels, and their greatest weapons were the Evas, except Unit-00 was destroyed in Episode 22, and Unit-02's pilot has lost the ability to sync. Nonetheless, Misato wants the pilot kids secured, since she knows SEELE's goons will try to take them out first. She orders Shinji to deploy in Unit-01, and even though Asuka's in no condition to fight, she has her put in Unit-02 and then sent to the bottom of the lake. It's not much of a hiding place, but at least she'll be safer there than inside the base.

Where's Rei? Well, no one can find her, but she's gone down to the room where they keep Lilith and she's soaking in that orange goop they have down there.

Perhaps anticipating this, Gendo excuses himself and orders Clownshoes to take over the defense of the base. Clownshoes seems to know what he's up to, and sends his regards to Gendo's dead wife.

At this point, it's basically a race to see who can trigger their version of Third Impact first. SEELE wanted to use the Lance of Longinus and Lilith somehow, but since the Lance is in space now, they now plan to use Unit-01, the only Eva created from Lilith. That's what makes it special, apparently. Units 00 and 02 were made from Adam, I guess?

Anyway, Gendo plans to do it by combining Adam and Lillith together. He's got Adam's body within his own, and he wants to join with Rei, who contains some essence of Lillith. This was Rei's main purpose all along, I think.

Meanwhile, Misato leaves her post to find Shinji, who was sulking in some corner instead of reporting to his Eva like she ordered. She saves him from some goons, but they're cut off from Unit-01, so she has to find a way to get him where he needs to go. She also has to convince him to cooperate, since Shinji's completely gone to mush in the midst of this new crisis.

As she drives him to where they need to go, she explains (most of) the necessary backstory to him. Second Impact was triggered deliberately to buy time for Human Instrumentality, and humans are descended from Lilith, just as the Angels came from Adam. So in that sence, the human species is collectively the 18th Angel, just another candidate to inherit the future of Earth. Humans, like any of the fifteen Angels spawned from Adam, have the opportunity to trigger Third Impact and secure their place as the dominant life form of Earth, but we had to beat all the Angels first to do it, and then find a way to survive Third Impact when it finally happened.

And while Gendo plans to do with with Adam and Lilith, SEELE wants to use the Eva series, somehow, so it's vital that Shinji use Unit-01 to destroy all the other Evas.

Speaking of destroying Evas, Asuka finally wakes up in Unit-02, which is currently getting battered with depth charges. She still can't control the Eva, and she just keeps whimpering that she doesn't want to die. Eventually, she hears her dead mother promising to protect Asuka, and she realizes the truth: that Asuka's mother, Kyoko Zeppelin, was absorbed into Unit-02, much the same way Shinji's mom was absorbed into Unit-01.

Now, at long last, Asuka can operate her Eva again, and she goes apeshit on the SEELE troops. They sever her power cable, but she doesn't care, boasting that five minutes is plenty of time to take out these creeps. This is honestly the best part of the movie, because they had reduced Asuka to a pitiful shell for so long, and now she's finally taking charge and whoopin' ass.

It won't last.

With the conventional forces beaten, SEELE sends in nine Eva Units of their own. These are units 05 through 13, but they all look the same, and I'm not even sure they have pilots. It's a pretty cool design for a "bad guy" Eva, but they don't figure into the plot very much. They're here to destroy Asuka and Unit-02, and Asuka has to destroy them to stop SEELE.

Meanwhile, Misato has almost gotten Shinji to the Unit-01 launch bay, but she got shot, so she tells Shinji he's on his own from here. Shinji continues to resist taking any responsibility here. He says he's not worthy to pilot the Eva because he hurts people. He killed Kaworu, and he "did something terrible to Asuka". So at least the movie recognizes that. I guess it was included just to show the audience that Shinji isn't exaggerating when he doubts himself like this.

Misato refuses to indulge his self-pity, and she doesn't care how much he cries or tries to use his past actions to disqualify himself. She tells him she's made plenty of her own mistakes, but she still learned something about herself anyway. Hey, I guess Misato kind of gets what I was saying earlier. I guess this makes her my favorite character?

Well, yeah, but I don't like how she gives him a long kiss goodbye, then promises they'll "do the rest" when he gets back. I mean, she dies immediately after he leaves, so I think she was just feeding him empty gestures to motivate him while she still could, but... that's kind of fucked up.

Meanwhile, Gendo and Rei reach the room where Lillith is to begin their attempt at Third Impact, but they find Ritsuko waiting for them. She pulls a gun on Gendo and tells him that she sabotaged the supercomputer while she was reprogramming it to stop SEELE's hackers. Except... when she tries to execute her plan, the computer doesn't do it. This is because it's been imprinted with the mind of its original creator, Ritsuko's mother, and apparently mom still carries a torch for Gendo, even after Gendo screwed both Akagis over. Gendo then pulls a gun on Ritsuko, and says "I truly..." but the sound cuts out as he says the rest of it, so we don't know what he wanted to tell her.

In any case, she calls him a liar after she hears it, so either he told her he loved her and she didn't buy it, or he said something really cruel and she knew he didn't mean it. Either way, Gendo shoots, her which normally would suggest his true feelings, except I think this Human Instrumentality business works on dead people too, so life and death kind of becomes meaningless in this movie. We see a ghostly apparition of Rei as Ritsuko falls into the LCL fluid. We also saw ghost Rei when Misato died, so this seems to be a thing now.

Meanwhile, Shinji makes it to Unit 01, but it's immersed in Bakelite, which Misato had ordered dispersed through the base to impede the invading goons. I'm not sure how it got here, though, unless the bad guys used Misato's own trick to secure Unit-01. So it looks like Shinji can't get in the robot, even though it's not a robot, and he doesn't even have to be inside the stupid thing to control it. He literally proved that on his first day on the job. Yo, Shinji, get in the robot, your mom loves you.

Meanwhile, Asuka seems to be doing just fine killing the bad guy Evas without Shinji, but just as she finishes the last of them off, the Lance of Longinus suddenly flies back to Earth and improbably stabs Unit 02 through the face. Uh... how? Why? What the fuck?

Also, all the Evas Asuka defeated suddenly reactivate. With her battery drained, Asuka is helpless to stop them as they crack open Unit-02 and eat it. I'm pretty sure Asuka herself is killed during this, but we don't see a body.

I guess this was the catalyst to get Unit 01 off its duff, as it finally breaks out of the Bakelite and grabs Shinji like it's gonna put him in. Unit 01 busts out to join the battle, and it's thig big impressive spectacle. It even has angel wings now.

But it doesn't actually do anything. Shinji just gets a look at what's left of Unit-02's mangled corpse and screams.

And that's the cliffhanger for 25'. There's a credits sequence, then a dedication note from the director, and then the second half starts as Episode 26'. So this is a good place to take a break.

If you're curious, the part where Eva 05-13 show up to confront Asuka is about where things ended in "Evangelion: Rebirth". But 25' is about twenty minutes longer than that, so I'm not sure what the significance of that cutoff point was supposed to be. I guess it works as a cliffhanger, but it's kind of dumb to have Asuka finally wake up and kick ass, only to get utterly destroyed a few minutes later. Then Shinji shows up to set up the real cliffhanger.

To be fair, this half of the movie is better than the second half. Mostly, it benefits from the parts where they actually show the characters recovering from Episode 24 and beginning to move to the next phase of the story. This was what the TV show failed to do with its Episode 25. Now, we get to see the SEELE vs. NERV battle that was only implied before, and we get to see how Human Instrumentality is arranged.

We also see why it needs to be done. In the original ending, it seemed completely arbitrary, like Gendo Ikari just decided this was a cool thing to try and he just did it to the whole world without asking anyone's permission. Here, it becomes clear that if Gendo doesn't pull the trigger, SEELE will, and it's just a race to see who can get their vision accomplished first.

And we actually get to see the other characters in this version. Asuka wakes up and gets her groove back, Rei's part in the drama is revealed, and Ritsuko and Misato get shot. Seeing this stuff makes me even more irritated that the TV series just jumped right past it all.

Still, this half of the movie has problems. For one thing, a lot of runtime is spent just showing troops slaughtering NERV personnel, and showing Misato leading Shinji to his Eva. Also, there's a healthy dose of Gendo and Rei just staring pensively at Lilith without actually doing anything. A lot of the footage doesn't actually progress the plot, and only Misato and Shinji's scenes are useful for providing exposition. Gendo and SEELE's words are too cryptic to be of much use.

The main point of this installment was to reinforce things we already knew: Rei's important to all of this somehow, Shinji is a sad sack, and Asuka is helpless. And maybe it needed to be reinforced in July 1997, more than a year after the TV show ended, but I don't think it needed to be hammered home this much.

And like I said from the start, this whole thing relies on a lot of ridiculous stuff that I feel like I should have been told about in the TV series. How did the Lance of Longinus come back? SEELE couldn't have arranged this, since they were the ones who were so upset about losing it in the first place. Why are there two methods to trigger Third Impact? How did Asuka's mother get sucked into the Eva and yet she remained in human form long enough to go insane and hang herself? Why did the bad guy Evas suddenly recover from their injuries when it was convenient for the plot?

Perhaps most critically: Why are they just treating Third Impact and Human Instrumentality like the same thing? Like if you do one, then the other one just automatically happens? Is that how it works? Then why were they so worried about the progress on that project? It could be done at will, right?

Oh, and how did SEELE figure out how to do all this stuff? They have their own fleet of Evas, which seem to work better than NERV's. They made their own Angel in the form of Kaworu. They seem to know how to make Third Impact happen, without Gendo's help. And however they got this far, they seemed to pull it off without anyone from NERV knowing about it. So why did SEELE even need NERV in the first place? As it currently stands, the only reason Gendo's ahead of them is because he's physically closer to what he needs to work with. SEELE could have nuked the base from orbit and hauled Eva Unit 01 from the wreckage.

Again, the whole movie just makes me feel like I missed an episode, except I didn't. I watched the whole thing, which leads me to assume that the next chapter will clarify everything, except it doesn't, as we'll see next time. See you there.

[mabelstone]

Congratulations

matt stone x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, mature

summary: part three of Provocateur

short one, sorry <3 ran out of ideas but wanted to give you something to tie you over until the next one

word count: 1.4k

cw: workplace sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Monday the following week was anything but an enjoyable shift for you. You were informed you had not been selected for the promotion. The far-too-wordy email didn't disclose who had been selected, but you only needed one glance at Matthew to get your answer. He absolutely beamed all day, a smug grin seemingly cemented to his face as he bounced through the halls, shaking hands with higher-ups, bashful, "ah, thank you"s repeated all day like a broken record.

You didn't say anything. You'd had taken multiple bathroom breaks throughout the morning to calm yourself down and keep from crying.

Call you a spoilsport, but you just couldn't be happy for him. Especially not after his spiel that you had no chance against him given your smaller name. You just sucked your teeth and got back to work. You still had your prestigious dream job, and it isn't like you were expecting to get promoted. It just sucked a little more when it was your arrogant, fucking sexy coworker surpassing you.

He started to approach you, but after examining your abhorrent expression, he decided to turn on his heels and make himself busy elsewhere. Probably gloating via email.

The morning passed you quickly, thankfully. As you were about to head downstairs for a coffee break - anything to get out of the thick, smug air of the office - an email popped up on your screen. Expecting it to be another disappointing denial, you sighed and sat back down, reluctantly opening it. When it rains it pours, you thought, bracing yourself. Bit dramatic, you must admit.

Good Morning,

We do congratulate your efforts upon applying for the editorial position. Although unsuccessful, we are eager to present you another opportunity for the same position. Special consideration, if you're interested.

To spare the boring details, the email essentially provided step by step instructions on how to submit a new article. However, this time they wanted to know more about you and why you should be selected. Basically, they granted you an opportunity to blow smoke up your own arse and make Matthew feel a little less special. You were not going to mess this one up.

***

The evening rolled around quick, the clock reading 6:05pm. You'd spent 8 hours writing your piece, nearly having chewed off all your nails in the process of perfecting it. You even skipped lunch today, far too focused on getting it right to think about anything else. You uploaded your article after diligently following the instructions of the email, logging out of your computer with a relieved sigh.

You rolled back in your chair, a proud smile dancing across your lips now that it was finally done. There was nobody else left in the office as most of your coworkers left around 4:30pm. Of course, all but one, who's office light shone out on the ugly office carpet. You tried to ignore it, getting up to head home for the day.

He must've been waiting for you, whistling out when you walked by his office. For fuck's sake, you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes before retracing your steps and stopping in his doorway.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly with a slight tilt of his head.

"Congratulations," a contradictory fake smile delivered the praise a little too enthusiastically.

"Close the door."

You obliged, trying to ignore the twinge in your stomach as you caught the glint in his eye that told you exactly what was about to unfold. "Good. Now, come over here and congratulate me."

You sighed, dropping your bag onto the velvet atrocity he called a chair, then placing your work binder on his desk as you walked toward him, stopping before his feet.

He wasted no time grabbing you by your waist, hungrily pulling you into his lap. You were sitting with your legs extended across his, his strong hand on the back of your neck as he pulled you to into the most heated kiss you'd ever experienced. Judging by the indubitable hard-on pressing into your hip, he'd been waiting for this all day.

"I saw you crying today," he broke the kiss to say, soft fingers creeping underneath your dress. "I don't like to see you sad."

"Yeah, right. Spare me," you scoffed, though incredibly resentful toward him, you knew the sex to follow would make you forget about losing, if only for a short while. Your brain was far too clouded with lust to protest his actions as the soft touch on your thigh moved to palm your breast roughly. You pulled him in by his collar, connecting your lips with his so hard your teeth would've smashed had your lips not served as a protective barrier.

He pushed you back gently by your shoulders, warm, firm hands holding you inches from his face, eyes searching yours. "No, I mean it. You're pretty when you cry. It made me feel weird to see you like that still."

You felt weird just hearing that.

"Are you gonna fuck me or are we having a therapy session?"

There you were again, repressing your emotions when things got too touchy. You tried to pretend not to see the way he frowned at your words.

He grabbed you by your hips, flipping you against his desk so hard your hipbones ached dully at the contact - likely to bruise after tonight. He shoved your skirt up above your ass, roughly ripping your underwear down to your ankles. You only managed to step out of one side of them before his tongue was lapping tentatively at your cunt. You gasped his motions, his hands on each of your hips, holding your dress up as he relentlessly ate you out; his tongue flat and heavy with each lick. You clung to the front and side of his mahogany desk, feeling his nose nudge at your entrance, eyes screwed shut, mouth already drying from the panting.

He pulled away fast, unbuckling his belt and dropping his slacks. You turned your head, watching the way he lazily pumped his cock, lathering it with his spit before slamming himself into you. You involuntarily arched your back at this, a sharp breath leaving you at the delicious stretch, that all too familiar sting that soon melted into pleasure.

He was so warm and thick that your vision blurred quickly and you didn't give a fuck that he beat you to the promotion. He placed on hand on your hip, fingers digging in hard to your soft flesh, the other on the back of your neck squeezing ever so slightly.

"Oh my God," you cried out with each thrust, sounding like a well rehearsed pornstar. You turned your head to face him again, his fingers now dancing across your tongue, sucking them the best you could while you moaned his name over and over.

His hand on your hip now travelled to your lower back, pushing your hipbones further into the wood, each thrust delivering a sharp pain to the area. He moaned out this time, throwing his head back as he continued his fast pace. You wondered how he had the stamina to fuck you at such speed the entire time.

You were reaching your peak embarrassingly fast, which apparently was going to happen each time you slept together. "M-Matt-"

"I know, I know," he cooed, and you could feel his thrusts starting to falter. He was close too.

Without warning, you came around him, walls tightening, pulsing in overflowing pleasure.

"Ah, fuck," he came too, filling you without a second thought. He slowly pulled out and delivered a hard smack to your ass, causing you to yelp.

In the midst of your... session, quite a few items had fallen from the desk that neither of you had noticed. Including your work binder, exposing your notes on your most recent article for your 'special consideration,' as it was put.

You caught your breath for a moment, leaning on your elbows, head down to the desk. He'd already pulled his underwear up, and when you turned around you saw red again. He'd picked up your paper and was reading over it.

"They've given you another chance," he asked, though it was more of a statement. You angrily snatched it off him, nearly tripping on your underwear in the process.

"Yeah? And?" It came out a bit more defensive than you'd hoped but you didn't know what to say. You wish he didn't know.

He just shrugged, pulling his slacks back up. "All the best, sweetheart. Maybe your piece wasn't so bad after all."

didn't proof read i'm too tired sorry!! i will tomorrow

[comas-are-for-sleeping]

also 1. the youtube goths say all u need to be a goth is to know the music and 2. i would LOVE a list

OK OK BET (note in the middle of writing the list: i am Sat Up in my bed so locked in rn)

so like, first the classics duh:

i love love love the cure like that's an obvious one but rrrrr they are so good these are like my favs. i saw them in concert like a year ago w my dad and we fucking missed boys dont cry bc it was like. the last encore song and it was midnight and we wanted to get merch and run like the wind yknow (top two hoodies i own tho so i think worth it)

siouxsie and the banshees?? fun fact if you've seen the show hannibal she did the last song and said she interpreted as a love story so 😌 somehow i dont have a siouxsie playlist oh well

depeche mode i also don't listen to a whole lot but the bangers are fr bangers. could listen to ghosts again on repeat forever probably

bauhaus!! bela legosi's dead is such a song of my childhood tbh maybe that explains some things

cocteau twins.. ok gonna be honest i know maybe Two songs lmao but i know they're kinda important so still putting them here. i feel like my dad called them pretentious once and that was all i needed to hear rip (small slight con of having a dad who literally showed me everything to do with music is that his opinion of music is still very influential to me. but like he's also usually right so)

not a band, but the rolling stone had an article of the top 50 goth songs (idr if it was *ever* bc that's kinda crazy but whatev) and mcr was on it? for baby bats they said but i was still kinda surprised. and then i thought about it and like.. lowkey yeah. if emo is "the world is dark and horrible and everything sucks" and goth is "the world sucks but there's beauty in the shadows" i feel like mcr is smack dab in the middle. anyway i made the list into a playlist and added ones i thought were missing

ok!! these ones are newer:

varsovia is so fucking good omggg. found them bc one of their songs was the theme song for this AMAZING hbo show called los espookys ive prolly mentioned that lmao. theres a bunch of spanish (i say spanish and not latino just bc i don't actually know some of them might be spaniards lol) goth bands (including the next one) and made a playlist bc like. duh

twin tribes is another band that i kinda only know two songs by but like that's ok!! they are rlly good

ok so i found vision video on instagram randomly and didn't even listen to the music at first bc i didn't realize they were a band?? mostly it's just the lead singer posting and he has the persona of "goth dad" and is an emt and just generally a really cool guy (amazing makeup also). but have come to v much enjoy their music and if i ever see them live i will combust

[haylorinthewoods]

Can you imagine the chaos if Taylor and harry gets spotted on a date? Even if it's a blurred photo where they are 2km away from each other it would cause CHAOS. I definitely don't think it would be like 2012 since there is lot of intersection between Taylor/harry fandom. It would be mostly support. But larries/toxic harries/gaylors etc would start calling it a stunt. There would be millions of articles. They would be asked about each other the next time one of them gets interviewed. They would be the IT COUPLE of Hollywood

I mean…..I’m gonna use your ask to ramble about something that’s been on my mind for a couple of weeks.

It’s something that they’ve both struggled with a lot over the years. And it really, really sucks. Taylor did an interview with The Telegraph from May of 2015 where she talks about struggling with the invasiveness that comes with dating.

We know now that she was able to find a fulfilling relationship with Joe (at what cost!?!), but they really had to work hard to keep their relationship private. It’s something they seemed to struggle with throughout their entire relationship (and probs one reason why they broke up). Taylor wrote songs about the anxiety and uneasiness she felt if the public found out about them. Joe has also mentioned how valuable their privacy was. Touch me and you’ll never be alone, right? The way this fandom has turned on Joe so fast. Immediately it was like “he must have done something”, and maybe he did, but we don’t know. Probably never will. But damn, I feel for him. Reminds me of this Harry quote from last year “being close to me means you’re at the ransom of a corner of Twitter or something”. And he’s not wrong!

Speaking of Harry, he spoke to Rolling Stone about his insecurities and struggles with dating.

The bullshit Olivia had to deal with just because she was dating Harry. IT MAKES ME SAD. For everyone involved. It makes me sad they both Harry and Taylor and their partners have to accept that this is the way life is for them. That they have to have these conversations. I couldn’t imagine. I know Taylor has accepted it for herself, Harry has accepted it but I think he struggles more with keeping his life private. The constant hounding from the media, and the fans. That’s a lot of shit to handle.

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!

#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao

Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out

tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and  you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

[yiffradio]

rolling stone fucking sucks btw dont let one good article fool you

[inghrafn]

Translation of the Rolling Stone article:

Remember when rockers were flashy, excessive, exaggerated libertines? Neither do we, but Måneskin are here to refresh our memories. On the third album Rush! former Eurovision winners and would-be saviors of rock from Rome do everything to live up to the exclamation point contained in the title.

Judging from the lyrics, Måneskin's life would seem like one bacchanal after another, with weed, beer, coke and hot chicks at hand, while singer Damiano David is, in his own words, "a lion tamer who behaves indecently and makes love to danger”. He's the guy who watches a 90s model in decline steal a Basquiat and a minute later boasts : “They ask me how I'm so hot, it's because I'm Italian ”.

In a sense, the Månekins have won the battle for the right to party . Thanks to their sense of fame and fashion, and with a guitarist (Thomas Raggi) who places a few solos here and there, they are the only major rock band capable of influencing contemporary popular culture. In case you don't consider Damiano a rock star, try listening to Timezone where he changes a flight for twice as much and blows up his plans since he's so excited about meeting his girlfriend: "I don't give a shit about contracts which I signed". Being a Lizard King in 2023 has its perks.

Starting with the 2017 EP Chosen , Måneskin's records have become increasingly boisterous and audacious. Rush! is their first album sung predominantly in English and is also the most ambitious, starting with the number of songs it contains-- 17, an Exile on Main Street. For them, as for other modern rock bands, punk is a blend of chants, beats that sound like programmed ones, a sound that seems to rumble in a wind tunnel. Sometimes an irresistibly catchy piece like Baby Said or Gossip comes up, with guest Tom Morello on guitar. It gets even better when Måneskin revitalize the lost art of tongue-in-cheek, half-spoken new wave song, as in the amusing and mocking Kool Kids (who are losers “who don't like rock, they only listen to trap or pop”) and Bla Bla Bla where David sings: "You said I'm ugly and my band sucks, but a song of mine just passed a billion streams, so kiss my cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-cu-ass."

Given the mocking and alluring tone of Damiano's singing, it's hard to say how seriously the Måneskin take this ridicule. Of course, the best moments are the exaggerated ones, while the most sincere ones are the weakest. If Not for You is a power ballad like many others, The Gift of Life is heated grunge. The point may just be the ridiculousness of much of Rush! . In a world dominated by trap and pop, the Måneskin know they have to go further and further, even if it means advertising in a text to OnlyFans. It's confirmation of how much rockers have to bang these days to get noticed.

Translated from Rolling Stone US and printed in Rolling Stone Italia, January 2023.