#a lot of this is general i know not Every young person Hates radio

[wiki-howell]

guess who managed to mention dnp in his a level media exam 🔥🔥

[prince-liest]

Yo, I'm writing a pre canon fic in which young fanboy Vox gets assigned as Alastor's assistant by Lilith, any tips for characterising him?

I think you have a lot of room for leeway and playing around since you're working with pre-canon, but the main points that I tend to at least personally keep around as a scaffold for writing Vox are:

He's got a Charisma modifier of, like, +4. This doesn't mean he's always suave - in fact, he's pretty pathetic around Alastor in particular! But he knows how to put on a performance that appeals to his intended audience, whether that be a customer base whose trust he's winning over, or a fellow Vee that he's trying to wrangle into behaving. He switches between ridiculous showmanship and collected CEO, and this works for him despite both personas being rife with overcompensation.

Every single one of the Vees including Vox thinks they're the only normal, reasonably-behaving person in the room, it's wild.

He's smart, he's capable, he's manipulative. He's good at knowing what people want and how to leverage that to sell them those things. The general population thinks he's #goals thanks to the image he puts forth.

He's a piece of shit that has no qualms with Valentino's behavior with Angel Dust, Velvette selling date rape drugs, or abusing his own hypnosis ability to manipulate people into buying his products (which include spyware literally advertised to voyeurs). This is part of the fun of this character!!

I think he has a lot of very fun physicality to him (as do most of the Hazbin Hotel characters), and I really recommend re-watching some of his scenes to get the hang of how he moves and interacts with people physically because you'd be surprised at how much that can add to characterization even in a non-visual format like writing.

...I also genuinely think he's kind of a horny bastard, to whatever extent and rating your story could even use that, but that's me extrapolating from his behavior around both Alastor and Valentino. It's just a fun cherry on top of the "low impulse control around Alastor" thing, because he's got so much going for him on the intelligence front that it's really funny to me when he tangibly switches to thinking with his dick.

And, of course, on the subject of Alastor in particular:

He's obsessive, and Alastor makes all of his impulse control go out the window. I started using the "Vox's One-sided Psychosexual Obsession with Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)" tag for a reason, and it's that I think it's in fact really funny how much evidence we get in canon that Vox doesn't just hate Alastor and want to dominate him, he'd also probably roll right over into the affectionately wheedling persona he uses with Valentino if Alastor suggested he'd take it well.

We don't just see Vox wanting Alastor dead, we also see Alastor telling us that Vox first asked him to join him; the torn-in-half photo of them standing together; and Vox pretty much popping a boner over Alastor getting wrecked by Adam, nevermind how manically he jumps around to get a word in before Alastor even shows his face during Stayed Gone. Even his little "Fu-uu-uuuuuck!" at the end of the song is like 50% actual despair and 50% :pleading: emoji. He wants Alastor, obviously, and I think a lot of the anger that he's projecting at Alastor in canon is specifically anger at being rejected, which is frantically covering up the fact that he is still desperately, embarrassingly into the radio deer. If Alastor won't join him, Vox has to beat him.

Anyway, I love this funky little TV. This was by no means a comprehensive guide or anything like that, but I hope it helped share at least some of my personal thoughts on writing him!

[alwaysxyou]

I think what's extra frustrating about this whole situation is just the not knowing when or why of it. Like I know it can't go on forever but there have been so many times where it seems like we're getting somewhere (bye bye Elevator) and then bam something else hits us. I just hate it for louis

i said i wasnt going to respond to this right now but im fired up now and i am going to answer it. none of this is about coming out none of this is about larry none of it is about being gay even! it's does louis know he deserves better.

you don't want to draw attention to your actual relationship - why do you need to even speak about it? answer questions with that you'd like to keep your private life private and that's the end of it. "oh you used to be so open? yeah i was a lot younger and now ive grown up a bit and realized i want to keep it private" any one who pushes it is labeled as an asshole interviewer. publicist listening in to every single non-live on air interview and jumping in to skip questions if necessary. only do live interviews with anchors and hosts you trust and have agreed to keep it professional beforehand. get the best media training in the business and have every possible answer locked into your brain.

you don't want people to think you're gay - why not? nothing wrong with being gay. but in any case, see answer above about not wanting to talk about your personal life and then turn the answer back to the fans "im not/i don't like to talk about my personal life but what matters to me is the fans and im so honored to have fans from that community." next question

"well he needs the publicity" well he's not getting any now. the only publicity from that stunt walk was talking about how young she was, or how quickly he moved on from e. how about louis at a charity event? the gossip sites post pictures of louis with f or stories he tells but want to know what else they would post in the same way? pictures of louis with a dog. or a lizard. or a hamburger. or shirtless!

also! where is the doc promo! or tour promo! where is the exclusive with first look photos and interview with day of tickets coming out? where are the ticket specials in the cities where tour needs to be sold more (buy a tour ticket get a free movie ticket)? where are the merch bundles (buy a shirt get a movie ticket voucher)? or just merch in general? where are the radio spots and the billboards and the bus stop ads and the commercials and the social media? radio interviews in tour cities? they wouldn't do a press junket yet but! and if no one brought those up why isn't louis or his manager saying something and asking for those plans and those rollouts? and if they aren't getting those or know what to ask for why aren't they hiring people to figure out what's not working and make it happen?

you don't have to come out, you don't have to reveal your relationship, you don't have to even elude to anything. but you do deserve better treatment, better promo, a better image. privacy, kindness, fans, general population respect. what might have been the way people did it in 2013 isn't the same as 2023. but all of louis' rollouts are stuck there. once upon a time for an artist, the worst thing you could be was gay. and even if that's not the case anymore, if that's still where your head is okay. you don't have to come out. but you don't deserve to be doing this shit or putting yourself through this either.

he got out of sony, he got out of modest. he claims to be the boss so goddamn put your foot down and take a fucking stand. if there's lasting contracts or whatever get the best lawyer out there and fucking take back what you deserve. and don't fucking settle for anything less. someone on your team has an idea you don't like? too bad for them, you pay them, you make the ultimate decision. and if they don't let you or try to fuck you over, you hire someone else. and do that again and again until you get what you want. life is too freaking fucking short to not be putting yourself into the best possible situations wherever you can. louis deserves that.

[miniar]

regarding a recent record release full of half-assed rage-bait by a washed up has-been...

Once upon a time there was an artist in the music scene that gained substantial cultural relevance.

Debates about the quality and nature of his work did exist and opinions were "mixed", but at the end of the day, fame or notoriety, he garnered a lot of attention and with them a lot of wealth and stature.

And then... he faded away, at least for the most of us.

A long time ago he played on the radio and Mtv and all that, but the reaction to his new album were, at first, "oh, he's still around?" even before the conversation regarding the contents of the lyrics started.

And while I haven't given it a listen personally, the general consensus so far has seemed to be one of profound underwhelm.

The man played for shock value back in my youth, and so, even people belonging to the marginalized community he seemed to have decided to come for were expecting him to spit some fire only to walk away somehow disappointed that all he appeared to manage was to dribble down his own chin.

If you don't know who I'm talking about yet, that's fine, it's not really important, and while I want to draw attention to the attempt to target trans people, as a trans person, who the target is isn't really important either.

The point I'm circling around isn't about him, or us, specifically, but about what he's essentially doing and how he's not the only one who does it. Sure he's a very recent and notable example (though not for the reason I suppose he's hoping for) he himself doesn't really matter to the conversation...

... which is why the album exists.

Fame is fickle, but incredibly powerful. It elevates a person quickly and to staggering heights, and this elevation is what corrupts a person, whether they're elevated by pure wealth, by pure political power, or by the social leverage given by adoring fans, or any combination there of.

A person thus elevated will inevitably begin to feel as though their position isn't just earned, it's deserved, it's natural, it's fated, it's their destiny.

But fame... is fickle.

And the rising star sometimes falls.

And from that fall is born a human being desperate to avoid a return to obscurity.

The lyrics sounds as though he doesn't know what he's talking about because he doesn't, he doesn't have a stake in the game, he doesn't really have an opinion, all he has is a desperate cry for attention.

He shouts out for Gen Z to cancel him because in order to cancel him they must first notice him, see him, acknowledge that he exists, treat him as though he has some, any, however slight, cultural relevance to the youth that he's desperate to reclaim.

He shouts out to be cancelled for speaking out against trans people in a desperate plea for transphobic people to elevate him like they've elevated other champions of their hateful cause before. He's not making that call because he stands with them of course, that's apparent by how phoned in and bland his statements on the matter are, they're less spicy than mayo on plain white bread tbh. He's making that call because he's desperate to be noticed, to be seen, to be treated as though he's got some, any, however slight, cultural relevance at all.

He's a younger Gen X member who's desperate to feel young and hip and with it again, who's already faded part-way into obscurity despite his name being known by nearly every millennial on the planet.

He's a perfect case study of the phenomenon.

His recent addition to his body of work is thus nothing new, not for him, not for anyone, it's the same thing others have done before him and others will do after him. He's seen what gets a reaction on the internet and he's trying to go viral.

He's basically a white guy with a podcast.

He's an author with no original ideas left but a desperate need to remain relevant.

He's a politician with zero policies trying to cling to their seat in a society that expects them to do the work they were elected to.

He's a washed up celebrity trying to relive the glory days of having fans, any fans at all.

He's a sad human being faced with the reality that he's no more important than the next guy and unable to come to terms with the fact that he's not special, fated to be above the rest, destined for greatness.

And at the end of the day, his name doesn't matter. None of their names matter.

They aren't worth the attention they're begging for.

None of us are worth the sort of attention we'd be willing to sell each other out for. That shit's not worth any of us either. That shit's toxic.

All of them, all of us, can do better than that.

When we do better, we get better, and deserve better.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Lee’s slowly creepin’ and I hope you’re ready for it.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You slurped the last of your shake through the straw, the paper cup damp in your cold hands as the heater blew out hot air. The foamy dregs of the drink were overly sweet and made your cheeks twinge. Lee popped the lid off his cup and offered it and you slipped yours inside. He pulled the straw out and stacked the lids, squeezing both straws through and setting it on the seat beside him.

He stretched his arm over the leather, his hand just behind your head and you listened to the deep voice of the narrator recount the eerie words of HP Lovecraft. You fidgeted and looked at your watch. The sky was dark and the stars twinkled down ominously.

“Um,” you uttered, “I think... uh…”

He looked at you and his hand hovered close to your shoulder, “what is it, honey?”

“I think I should get home,” you finished.

“Oh, why’s that? You don’t got class tomorrow, do ya?”

“I don’t but… well, I’m tired,” you rubbed your neck and sat up so he couldn’t touch you, “I had an early morning.”

“Well, of course,” he retracted his arm and straightened up, he pulled the car into gear and slowly pressed down on the gas, “you should get to bed, little girl.”

You scowled at the venom in his last two words. He’d been nice but he had no right to patronize you. You hated that most. People thought because you were quiet they could just treat you like you were dull.

“I’m not… not a little girl,” you eked out.

“Ah, I didn’t mean nothing by it,” he said as he pulled out of the lot, “you are little though, ain’t ya?”

You felt a peculiar heat creep up your neck and cheeks. You were short but you’d met a few people smaller than you. People came in all shapes and sizes. You didn’t comment on his stomach or the wrinkles around his eyes. Yet, the humour in his voice kept you from rebuke.

“I guess, I…”

‘I don’t mean it as an insult, you see?” he chuckled, “kinda cute you can’t reach the floor.”

“Mmm,” you inhaled and pursed your lips. You pulled the collar of your pea coat closed and wiggled your foot nervously.

“I see,” he said, “you got your friends waitin’ on ya, huh? Yeah, young girl like you don’t wanna be hanging around an old man all night.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said.

“Hey, I’m not stupid, I was only bein’ nice,” he interrupted, “you looked lonely and I… I got carried away.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” you scrambled as he passed by the college entrance, “I was… I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re in such a hurry, honey, you can’t wait to be away from me,” he ranted, “actin’ all sweet and shy but you just like the rest of them.”

“What?” you grimaced and watched the buildings pass by, “no, I’m not. I…” you felt guilty as if you’d done something wrong. All you wanted was to go home and lay down, but it felt like a personal affront. “I… lied.”

“What?” he asked as your voice fizzled.

“I lied, sir,” you confessed, “I don’t have any friends. Not really, just… classmates.”

“Nah, that can’t be true,” he scoffed, “who wouldn’t wanna be friends with a pretty girl like you?”

“No, no, please, I… I’m sorry, I just want to go home, okay? I’m tired,” you cupped your cheek and slumped in defeat.

He was quiet for a moment as he drove along. He turned along the line of residences and streetlights flashed over his profile as he stared at the road. He flipped into park as he stopped in front of your building and nodded. 

“Alright, I believe you,” he said at last, “I don’t wanna keep you up and I didn’t mean to get so upset. It's just, well, I like being with you.”

“It’s fine, thank you… for everything. The milkshake was good.”

“No, I mean it, it’s a pity no one else can see it,” he went on, “you’re real smart and nice. You got a pretty smile too when you show it, too.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you gripped the door handle, “that’s very kind. I should go--”

“Wait, wait,” he caught your arm, not tightly, but kept you from getting out as the door opened an inch, “can I come back? Next week, we’ll have another shake and listen to the show. I’m really curious what happens.”

“I don’t know, I… I have lots of work to do,” you looked at his large hand on your arm. He dropped it and wiped his palm on his brown pants.

“You bring your homework, honey, you can study and listen, I don’t mind,” he offered, “if you don’t want a shake, we can get some burgers and fries. Have a nice dinner?”

You smushed your lips together and thought. He hadn’t done anything bad enough to warrant that feeling in your gut. You were overthinking things just like you always did. Besides, he had to be almost fifty, he was just being friendly, he said it himself. 

And what else did you have to do? You didn’t have any friends and it was too late to start making them.

“I… okay,” you said softly, “my book club ends at seven. It’s over at Clover Hall.”

“I’ll find you there then,” he smiled, “now go on, before I keep you out any later.”

You got out and scooped out your bag with you. You closed the door and headed up the path without looking back. You got to the door and focused on unlocking it. Your hands were shaking and your mind was reeling. You always lamented being little more than a fly on the wall but it was completely overwhelming to be noticed.

📚

You clacked away on the keys of your typewriter. Your dorm room was small and stuffy as dry heat rose from the dingy old radiator. You could hear your roommates in the kitchen as they gabbed and laughed loudly. You were jealous yet too intimidated to try and ingratiate yourself. You always just ended up in the corner as everyone else had fun.

Your assignment was to write a review of a primary resource borrowed from your visit to the archive. You carefully looked over the laminated manuscript between sentences. Your small radio played in the background and you couldn’t help but nod to the full tones of the jazzy music.

You were drawn from your entranced study by a knock at your door. It was unusual to be disturbed unless there were chores to dole out. You didn’t have time to wipe up their messes again. You got up and went to the door and opened it an inch.

“Hi,” you said meekly as Gina stood with a box in her hands.

“This is for you,” she held out the package, “it was down at the residence office.”

“Me?” you let the door fall open and took the box, “I don’t…” You looked it over but there was no address, only your name, “thank you.”

She left without another word and you nudged the door shut with your elbow as you turned. Your parents only sent you letters, they didn’t like to pay the pricy postage for a whole package. You put the box down on your single bed and peeled back the brown tape. The flaps came open and you peeked inside curiously.

You took out the skirt, a yellow plaid piece shorter than anything you’d ever owned. It was the new style found on the cover of Vogue. You put it aside and reach for the blouse, a pure white thing with bell sleeves. Lastly, a pair of knee high heels to top off the mod look.

There was an envelope amid it all, the note inside short and scribbled.

‘Saw this and thought of you, honey.’

You stared at the paper and folded it back up. It was a nice gesture but you couldn’t wear that. You couldn’t accept the gift either, it was too much. Every garment you owned was second-hand and you’d seen the prices of these clothes in the magazines. 

And, you wondered as you packed the box and shoved it against the wall, why would the sheriff buy you all that? His friendliness made you uneasy. It was suffocating and yet, you could find no fault in someone being too generous. 

You realised too, how little you knew about him. What if he had wife or even a family? What if he didn’t? What if he was only doing it to fill in some gap in his life? Maybe he was playing out some father-daughter relationship he never had.

Well, you could ask him next time you saw him. Or try to.

[charlie-rulerofhell]

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Heyo, I'm back with another translation. This time the article is from the German Rolling Stone website who met with Måneskin after their TikTok performance at the Schwuz, Berlin, and posted the interview yesterday. Again there were some interesting questions asked (and the pictures they added to the article are quite nice, though severely lacking some Ethan content, but check it out!).

Again, I hope that no one has already gone through the effort and translated it or is currently working on a translation. Also this is an official invitation, if you stumble across any articles or video interviews in German that you would like to have translated just message me and I'll get to it! (or if you just wanna chat about Måneskin, my inbox is always open :))

Have a great day everyone!

Full article under the cut.

-----------------------------

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Jose-Luis Amsler

July 6, 2021

Måneskin are just what this generation has been missing. Passionate, corny, and full-on honest. In an interview with Rolling Stones, the ESC winners explain to us why they would never work in a normal job and why the hype for their appearance is sometimes going too far.

Damiano, Victoria, Thomas and Ethan are entering the nearly deserted dance hall, before they wait on stage in a red-blue spotlight. They are wearing glittering fish net tops, black tape across their nipples, leather pants, heels and make up. The camera men who are filming in portrait format (9:16) suitable for TikTok are whirling up the haze of the fog machine.

Måneskin are [in] Berlin to give a TikTok concert. A TikTok livestream of this scale has not been done often – tension is in the air. The four Italians don't know at this point that due to the stream the few people present are not allowed to clap or cheer. In complete silence and with slight uncertainty the four are crossing Neukölln's club Schwuz. A few puzzled glances are exchanged. Finally,  Måneskin are striking the first chord.

Then the rich sound of Ethan's bass drum is tearing through the silence. It's almost as if someone has flicked a switch somewhere. There it is, the rock star presence that is hovering over everything they do, with an ounce of arrogance (in the best sense of the word). Singer Damiano is dancing lasciviously on his heels, and during an especially ecstatic solo guitarist Thomas is throwing himself down on the floor in a way it can only be done by a passionate 20-year-old musician who had never had to worry about the looming doom of an artificial knee joint [for 'passionate' the interview is using the term 'besessen' which means 'possessed', and although I think it's rather supposed to describe the way Thomas is 'possessed / obsessed' with the music, thus passionate for the music, you never know if they didn't mean to say that the way he dances looks 'possessed' … I mean, they might be on to something here ;)]. Around half an hour and about 120 decibel later, Damiano says their goodbyes with an almost shy-sounding “Okay, bye.” After the performance, we do our interview in the Schwuz.

Rolling Stone: It was a little bit weird, right, when you went on stage today?

Damiano: Yeah, that was really strange (laughs). They only told us after the performance that the audience was instructed to stay silent for the stream.

Vic: But at least they weren't silent because we were shit (all laughing). We are slowly getting used to playing without a live audience. I mean we are doing this now for more than a year.

RS: What do you think about these new kinds of concerts such as the TikTok livestream today?

Damiano: Well, at the moment it is the only option to perform anyway, so it's alright. But of course you cannot compare this to a proper concert.

Thomas: But it's pretty cool that so many people can experience our concert live.

Vic: Also we're gonna start touring again soon. Right now we are arranging some festival and gigs. In December we will be touring Italy and afterwards we are planning to go on tour through Europe. But we don't have anything fixed yet, there is just a lot going on at the moment.

“A lot going on”. Quite an understatement considering the recent journey Måneskin has made through the past weeks after their ESC win. Their singles “Beggin'” and “I Wanna Be Your Slave” went through the roof (also thanks to Social Media) and are currently dominating the international charts – lately they were also number one in Germany. There is barely a radio station that isn't playing the band on heavy rotation [would love to know what stations they listen to, have never heard Måneskin played in German radio tbh :( ], and everyone opening Instagram or TikTok these days is flooded by Måneskin content. Every second a new fanpage with the name of 'maneskin_obsession' or 'damianos_slut' is springing up like a (virtual) mushroom. It sounds like a cliche, but Damiano, Vic, Thomas and Ethan became international stars over night.

“Of course it's nice to get compliments. But sometimes they definitely cross a line.” – Damiano David

RS: How has your life as a band changed since your win at the ESC in Rotterdam?

Vic: I think we don't even notice a lot of what's happening. Right after the ESC we went to a studio in the countryside where we made music the whole day long. So at first we didn't realise that so many things were happening all around us – and that we had so many new fans. We're just now beginning to learn what's going on. We were at Sony yesterday, there were so many fans waiting for us. That was crazy.

RS: A large part of the attention you are getting now is about your outer appearance, your style, your attractiveness. Is that getting a little too much sometimes?

Damiano: Of course it's nice to get compliments (laughs). But sometimes they definitely cross a line. Especially when we just talk about our music or about a social or political topic that we care about. In those moments it's just completely inappropriate to reduce us to our appearance. Sure – when I'm posting a half-naked picture of myself on Instagram I know that I will get these kind of comments. And then it's totally fine, I mean in the end I'm posting the picture to show myself. But sometimes it's not the right place for it.

RS: And also you should be allowed to wear what you want without being sexualised, right?

Vic: Yes, absolutely. We are wearing these outfits because we feel good in them, not to put the focus on our bodies. And in general it shouldn't always only be about how you dress. We are musicians – so first and foremost it should be about our music. But I think it will still be a long way until we will reach that point.

“That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those things should never be equated with each other.” – Victoria De Angelis

RS: But still you are sending a message with your style against stereotypical gender roles. I guess it's also not only coincidence that we are in the Schwuz today, which is normally a party location and safe space for the LGBTQ community.

Vic: Yes, that is all part of the positive message that we try to send. We want to give our audience the feeling that they are free. Free to wear whatever they want to wear, be how they want to be and love whom they want to love. It's unbelievable that there is still so much intolerance in our times. That has always been really important to us so we try to talk about these topics. We also believe that the narrow-mindedness of society is an educational problem. When you grow up with people all around you telling you how you should be, you will never feel completely free. The more people are talking about it, the sooner things will change.

RS: Some artists who are advocating for these topics are accused of 'queerbaiting', that they are only pretending to be a certain way to gain more support from the queer community. Have you also been faced with those allegations?

Vic: Yes, a few times. But of course we never pretended to be anything. Some people accuse of us queerbaiting because we look and act the way we do. But that's flawed thinking. We don't believe that clothes are connected to a person's sexuality. That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those two things should never be equated with each other.

RS: This courage for free self expression that you are conveying is mainly lived by our (young) generation through Instagram and the like. What is your relationship to social media?

Damiano: For me it was almost scary at first. The more we grew, the more people were trying to twist all of my words. But over time you start to understand that with more fame you also get more criticism. The happier you look the more hate you will get. It's not only like that for celebrities. If you are brave enough to show the things that make you happy there will always be people that support you, but they are also those that envy you. Of course, this should never lead anyone to not express themselves openly but that's easier said than done.

Vic: We are also trying not to spend too much time on social media. In the end we just try to be honest with our fans and to avoid negativity.

[caption under the picture of Damiano: 'Is already being compared to icons such as David Bowie']

It's actually surprising how little power a win at the ESC holds in most cases. Almost 200 million people are watching this shining spectacle every year – and still, a few months afterwards it is hard to remember who those people were that got covered in confetti during the award ceremony. It's the well-known curse of a casting show that rests on the winning bands. When just next year a new sensation will come to marvel at, how much impact does a win have then? There are exceptions of course, like Lena who is until this day, 10 years after her win in Oslo, a part of the more famous music scene of German pop music. With their charisma, their unusual sound at least for our modern standards, and their contemporary message Måneskin could become such an exception, too.

It's likely also helpful that the band already had a standing in the Italian music scene prior to their ESC participation. Their first album 'Il ballo della vita' already achieved platinum in 2018, three years prior to Sanremo and the ESC. And then there is also the long way that led the four schoolmates to this point that helped them gain the necessary persistence. Because contrary to what some people might want to believe Måneskin are not a phenomenon that has just been deliberately bred to be this way by the entertainment industry for Eurovision.

“I have worked [in a 'normal' job] for a whole month in my entire life – it didn't really end well.” – Damiano David

RS: You were all raised in Rome, the capital of the catholic church. What was it like to start as a young progressive band in such a conservative environment?

Damiano: In the beginning, when we started as buskers, no one gave a damn about us anyways (all laughing). But of course … Once we got a bit bigger there were a few people who had a problem with us. For example when we went to Sanremo, there were quite many people who thought that the way we looked and acted we shouldn't be allowed to represent Italy. They didn't even want to listen to our music first.

Vic: Especially when it comes to appearance and sexuality, Italy is a little more backward than other countries. The church probably also has an influence there. They are often quite conservative of course, so many people grew up with such a [conservative] mindset.

RS: You once said that the song 'In Nome Del Padre' is an answer to exactly those people. What does the song mean to you?

Damiano: Back in the beginning [of our career] we had to deal with a lot of problems. They didn't want to let us play in clubs because we would take too much space as a band or because they didn't like our (fashion) style or because they didn't want to pay us. Italy isn't a good place for bands. Our musical style was also criticised a lot. Many people were telling us: Don't do that [rock music], you won't get popular with that in Italy, you will never achieve anything with it. Of course those comments were hurtful but they were also a good reason for us to continue with what we did. And we turned our sadness into anger. With that song we wanted to tell those people from back then: Fuck off and look at us, we did it!

RS: Did you ever consider working in a nine-to-five job and live a 'normal' life?

Damiano: Nah, not really. For one month in my life I worked [in a 'normal' job] – it didn't end well (all laughing).

Vic: We all made music since we were kids. It's a huge part of us, that we couldn't just ignore. And the most important thing is that you do something that makes you happy. At least that's what we believe. So we started from a young age to put all our time and energy into music.

Thomas: Yeah, exactly. Ever since we were in school together we always made music. That has always been our main focus and it is until today. We play and play and play because it is the only thing that …  

Ethan: … we live for.

Damiano: Music has also something very therapeutic for us. Even when we are in a bad mood or fight with each other – yeah, that happens, too – then all of that is gone the moment we enter the stage. Maybe that's the beautiful thing about music – that it allows you to forget everything else. You're just standing on stage, having fun with your friends.

From most bands you wouldn't buy such a corny love letter to music. Mostly it just sounds like an empty phrase, a well-practiced quotable line. But when there is something that defines Måneskin and that becomes more and more evident during our conversation it's their uncompromising honesty. The four of them are definitely not lacking a sense of humour but they take their music very seriously. Which should not be taken for granted in a generation that has mainly produced sarcastic cloud rappers and has made cynical twitter comedy a national sport. And maybe Måneskin are exactly what this generation was lacking all along.

Still, the four musicians, all in the age of 20 to 22, are also prone to the constant need for self-expression, that has become an intrinsic part of today's life. This does not only reflect in the outfits of the band (always 'on fleek') and their Instagram profiles, but also in their lyrics. Their latest record 'Teatra D'Ira – Vol. 1' shows a clear theme: The album is an ode to individuality, accentuated by fast and hard sounds.

Sometimes this message fitting for a Disney movie [really? guess I have been watching the wrong Disney movies my whole life …] is wrapped in a contrasting loud and forceful packaging, but never so much that it becomes inauthentic or self-caricaturing [note: I'm honestly not entirely sure what they wanted to say with this sentence since it uses a lot of rhetorical devices that could be interpreted in different ways, but I'd say this sounds the most plausible]. And in the end, the thing that makes Måneskin so interesting is their unification of the spirit of this time – between TikTok hedonism and an omnipresent political statement – with the music of past generations.

“When you are twenty, you start to think about what the future will hold.” – Damiano David

RS: Your musical style is often described as classical 70s rock, but in fact there are many different influences in your music. Sometimes you groove almost into funk, sometimes it's more rapping than singing. How did this mixture come to be?

Thomas: It's just that we all have our own individual influences and then we meet somewhere in the middle. And we always try to stay open for experiments.

Ethan: Yes, we are very experimental in our song writing process.

Vic: We also don't want to limit ourselves to what is regarded as typical rock music. If rap fits better at some point then we just add that in. It just happens naturally without us thinking too much about it.

RS: So why was it still rock music in the end?

Vic: Because it's the style that we feel most represented by. But actually we just play the music that we enjoy playing. That's really important to us so that we can show something real on stage. We don't want to pretend to be something that we aren't or mock those people that really enjoy our music. You should always be proud of what you're doing and never fake anything just to sell more records.

RS: Is there something like an Italian rock music scene?

Vic: There are quite a lot of bands – but the most of them are much older than us or they are more going in the direction Indie rock. There isn't really a young rock scene, which we think is a pity. But ever since we got more famous people are telling us that they started listening to rock music because of us or that they bought their first guitar and such. That's incredibly nice!

RS: So you're saying that you also want to show this style of music to a younger generation. And you capture this contrast quite well in the song 'Vent'anni', which is a typical rock ballad but lyrically portrays the thoughts of today's youth. Where did the motivation come from to write that song?

Damiano: With the song I wanted to show that I'm just a normal guy, a really typical 20-year-old. I experience the same things that other people in my age are experiencing, I'm just doing another job than them. Also I wanted to describe this age as a whole because I think it's a really special age. At 20 you start to think about what the future will hold. I think it's one of the most important stages of your life. Since we (the four of us) are all in the same age, I then started to mix our experiences together. In the end the song shows what it means to us to be 20. There is a lot of good things – you are quite carefree and are looking at life enthusiastically. But on the other hand you're too young to do certain things and too old to do others. Some people are treating you like a full-grown adult, but …

Vic: … not entirely.

Damiano: Exactly. It can get pretty frustrating at times. We wanted to show our audience: Hey, we're also just 20 years old, and we're going through the same things as you. We understand you.

RS: Except that you are the ones who are becoming a world-wide phenomenon right now. How do you want to maintain this honesty?

Damiano: I think that we could just reach this point because we have always been authentic – for better or for worse. Also we are just trying to have fun with what we're doing together. That's something special that we don't want to lose. In the end we're just four friends who started to live their dream. It's actually pretty simple. Of course – we go on stage, we get a lot of attention, we give interviews – but when we come back home we're just four friends.

[mystic-sky]

|✨Part 1✨| |✨Part 2 ✨| of the Friends with Benefits Series.

Your relationship with Suguru started off somewhat unexpectedly. A new semester romance, however it was unwanted after dealing with Satoru Gojo just last year. You tried not to blame yourself for the situation unraveling the way it did. You did your best to make Satoru comfortable with you- at least you thought you did.

He cut you off as soon as you made your feelings apparent. You wondered if he somehow did it for your own good, or maybe there was something deeper that went along with it. No matter, you remained optimistic. You were young, and bound to make mistakes. This was just a story to tell your children about in the future if you ever felt it was necessary.

But back to Suguru, who had wiggled his way into your life somehow. He wasn’t a random guy actually. More like a familiar face you’d seen in a few of your classes because you both were in the same major. Just so recently, he decided to talk to you.

You weren’t expecting to hit it off with him so easily. He was sort of scary looking, which led you not to engage with him in the first place. He never tried talking to you before 5 months ago. And neither did you, considering you thought he was so handsome he’d break your heart too somehow.

His arms were sleeved with tattoos that would bridge at his chest. The tattoos would sometimes peak out of his wide collared shirts if he chose to wear one that day. He had a thing for wearing these huge ear gauges that had his favorite anime on them. Though, you never noticed until you sat close enough to him to see the designs. It was a rainy day, and both of you ended up sitting beside each other in your sociology course in the back of the classroom. You were both late, having come in just after the other.

It was weird seeing him this close. He never did come late to any class you’d ever been in with him. Even if you wanted to sit with him, like Satoru, he never had any available seats beside him. He didn’t disturb you until the lecture ended, commenting on one of your anime themed mechanical pencils. That sparked your first conversation with him, and he wasn’t shy to ask you out for coffee right after.

He’s been keen on you since, and you just barely give him the time of day in the beginning. You were just cautious, after the whole Satoru situation. Suguru was fine with whatever you wanted the situation between you both to be. But you will admit, the conversations he’d keep you up with at night made it hard to not fall in love with him.

He’d take you out to dinner, study with you, and sleep with you from time to time since the sexual attraction between you was hard to deny. You think your favorite thing about messing around with Suguru was how he’d always pick your brain after sex with manga theories and better endings than the canonically debuted ones. He was a really good cook, and you often challenged him to make your favorite dishes. They were excuses to invite you over to his place, so he gladly took each one with merit. It was friends with benefits but with far much more substance to hold onto.

He never poked you about getting serious. Whatever you both had was still young at barely 5 months. He could tell you’d been going through something mostly because of how you sexed him. Sometimes you were the dominant one- you’d throw him on the bed and bounce yourself on his length until your knees were far too tired to go on. Other times, he’d steal the show from you, showing you just exactly what he was capable of.

He spread you onto the desk in his bedroom, face deep into your folds. He also loved to spoil you, like Satoru, but you did your best not to think of him when you both were together. Suguru had so much more hair to grab, considering his tongue work was so good it scared you.

“Be a good kitten and cum for me.” He said between sucks on your clit. You often couldn’t think, and that was a good thing. He numbed you in plenty of ways, he knew he had been helping you get over something. He had been doing the same thing but you could care less.

“Actually, I changed my mind.” He tore his mouth from your steaming sex, wiping his chin. You gasp as he lifts you up off the desk, holding your body without leaning against anything for support. You felt weightless, feeling his length prod at your entrance. You tried to hold back a giggle as he smiled smugly at you.

“You ready?” His eyes were sincere, asking for your consent again as he was aching to sink you onto himself.

You nod, feeling a bit nervous. “Stuff like this is about balance. Start flailing around again and I’ll drop you.” He teased. Your hands found some of his hair again, tugging on it a bit.

“Just fuck me.” You roll your eyes as he slams his length into you, making you cry out and clutch your arms around him. His large hands firmly grasp underneath your thighs, using the way your ass recoiled against his thighs to keep a steady rhythm. He’s immersed in the way your broken moans pour into his ear, fueling his stamina. He’s a stickler for teasing you the entire time, praising you for taking his length so well.

“Such a good kitten, you’re taking it so well.”

It was the third time he’d ever held you up to fuck you. After letting go of the fear of him dropping you it became incredibly easy to focus on the pleasure.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? Don’t worry about the carpet baby, make a mess for me.”

He knew how to mix things up the way you needed. On your rough days he’d sex you slowly, more passionately and generously. If you were happy and feeling frisky he’d fuck you accordingly. He was pretty good at reading your body just after the first few fucks you had. You hated comparing the two men, but it did happen from time to time when you were in solitude, plagued by your own self-deprecating thoughts every now and then.

It was weird how they emanated each other’s personalities in certain ways. And then you found out that they used to be good friends in high school until something happened. You never poked Suguru about it, since he’d seem to get irritated when you were around groups of friends and Satoru’s name was mentioned. You did your best to be satisfied with what you had. He was handsome, smart, and possibly wanted to be your boyfriend in due time.

But you couldn’t help but think about Satoru. Not only was your experience with him a wild one, but he was fucking everywhere. It’s always like this for you. It’s not until you’re trying to avoid someone do you begin seeing them absolutely everywhere.

You stared at Satoru over Suguru’s shoulder, poking your cheek with your tongue. The audacity he had, showing up in the cafe where you both first met while you and Suguru were on a routine study date. Well, it was a hotspot for a lot of students, so who are you to say he can’t come in here.

“I think I’m overworking myself today, we can go eat now.” Your mood change was evident to Suguru, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at first. He watched you get up and pack your things before shortly following.

As you tossed your bag over your shoulders, he took hold of one of your hands, squeezing firmly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Is it something I can cheer you up from when we get back to my place?” Suguru was a bit smug about it, and also painfully intuitive about your emotions even though you’d been close for such a short time. Your cheeks went red, eyes burning holes through the floor.

“It’s nothing, really. Let’s just get out of here.” You manage to look back at him, just barely glancing at Satoru who probably had been looking in this direction. Suguru pressed another kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out the cafe. He nearly touched shoulders with Satoru and his own dame, smirking just loudly enough for him to hear.

Suguru wasn’t dumb, finally having noticed your energy change just a few moments after Satoru Gojo entered the cafe. This was your favorite place, and he hated how someone could ever ruin that for you. He felt urged to do something about it- with or without your consent. He doesn’t poke you about it until you’re in the car.

“Random question, but do you know Satoru Gojo?”

The question like a pin in your spine, making you visibly un-slouch in the drivers seat. He doesn’t look at you, feeling that would make it easier for you to talk. You take this the wrong way, and feel even more tense.

“I do, we were a thing at one point.” You manage not to stutter. You had no idea why you felt scared or touchy about the subject- you shouldn’t be. His entire vibe had changed, and he didn’t have his usual grin peaking at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” he says simply. The longest ten seconds of silence reign throughout the vehicle. You’re anxious to turn on the radio, anything to rid the first bit of awkwardness the two of you had ever shared.

“He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” He randomly chuckles heartily, somewhat calming you.

“Yeah,” you’re exhaling properly now, “he really is.”

“We were best friends for about four years. I know him like the back of my hand. Granted, he’s probably changed a lot since high school.”

“But you’re both so-

“Different?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was an asshole then, he’s multiplied tenfold.” You roll your eyes. “You both don’t talk anymore?”

You knew they didn’t, but you took the opportunity to ask anyway.

“Nah, he’s a slimy bastard. I hope karma turns him rotten.” You’d never seen Suguru scowl before. He must really hate him, you thought. Still, what a small world; first Satoru and now his ex best friend.

“You still talk to him?” He pokes again. His tone is just barely playful. God, you changed your mind. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“No, we don’t talk anymore. It ended pretty badly.” You say simply. You also decided not tell Suguru that the both of you messed around just before you started messing with him.

“Sorry about that. If we were friends sooner I’d have told you about him.” Suguru is apologizing for something you weren’t entirely ignorant about in the first place. You knew what you were getting into.

Satoru never tried to convince you the situation was anything other than what it was— until the end. The sweet things he started saying to you during those final months often echoed in your head- like he meant all of it.

The sex developed into something that it shouldn’t have. Sex that passionate should be forbidden if you aren’t already in love. And the things he said to you the last time he dropped you off didn’t make it any better. You wanted to slap his stupid, pretty face.

“I’m over it now.”

Suguru pans his gaze to watch you nonchalantly staring out the window. He knew better than to ask anymore. He was more elated that you didn’t interact with him at all. He didn’t need Satoru painting a picture about him in your head before he could first.

What sucks the most about dating people you go to school with is how often you’d see them. Satoru was fucking everywhere. The local restaurants, the library, the cafe, and he’d registered for two of your classes this semester. He didn’t speak to you at all, but he was always just there. Perhaps he’d always been around but since you’d been involved with him you were more aware of his presence.

You were standing in line in the library, attempting to return some books. He entered the space, and walked up behind you, standing on the line and giving your space. You turn your body slightly, peering up at him. You thought to leave, but just because you resented him didn’t mean you were going to cower every time you had to be around him for a while. You let out a sigh as you tip toed to peer in front of yourself; at least the line was moving.

Both of you had made it to the front, talking to separate librarians beside one another. When they both got up from their seats to head towards the back, he spoke directly to you, without actually looking at you.

“(Name), word of advice— I’d steer clear of Getou Suguru if I were you.”

Anger poured over you; you did your best to keep your voice low and eyes forward when saying this.

“That’s the first thing you say to me after almost a year? Go fuck yourself.”

He bites back a witty response, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Whatever. Find out the hard way.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Why the fuck are you telling me this?” You’re whisper-shouting, considering it’s a library.

“Because,” he turns to look at you, “I care about you.”

“What a load of shit.”

Satoru Gojo doesn’t care about anyone, you learned that the hard way.

He let out a sigh. He knew he had no right, but even if he couldn’t get you back, he wanted you to know what kind of guy you were seeing. He couldn’t say anything, he knew you wouldn’t listen. Not like this anyway. Both librarians returned, and gave you back your borrowing passes. You quickly departed, refusing to give Satoru another opportunity to speak to you. His words stuck with you on the way home. You didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Suguru, right?

Two months had passed since Satoru had “warned” you about Suguru. And nothing has happened to lead you to be cautious of him. Satoru hasn’t spoken to you either.

You’re sitting in the guidance counselor’s office as it’s the end of the semester once again. You typed away on your phone, telling Suguru you’d see him for dinner in a bit before throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. The heaviest sigh left your lungs, you were thankful the semester was nearing its end. You had quite enough of studying and needed to unwind.

You feel a presence on the end of your bench, making you open one eye. You see white tresses, and you catch the scent of familiar cologne.

Satoru doesn’t look at you, but he’s quite aware that he’s sitting beside you as well. You almost scoff, only crossing your arms and legs. Noticing the undone laces of your boots, you lean forward to tie it. Your loose bag on your shoulder which unfortunately wasn’t zipped, spilled small notebooks and pencils all over the floor. Spare change rolled across the walk way along with other items.

“Fuck...” you muttered. His head snapped towards you as you let out a sigh and bent down to pick up your things. Your phone that was your on your lap hit the ground as well. You saw his hand in the corner of your eye reaching down to help.

“I got it.” You say sternly, and shamelessly picking up your things. He retracts his hand, and instead gets up to pick up the items that were further away from you, ignoring your request not to help.

He sits back beside you, handful of change and pens. He holds it up towards you quietly while you attempt to fix your bag back to the way it was. You turn to look at him for what feels like the first time in forever, blue eyes pouring into your own (eye color) ones.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” You say, taking your things. You initially thought to take your things from him without a word. He went back to staring in front of himself, waiting to be called. You shifted uncomfortably, and fidgeted with your fingernails. You forced yourself into to pay attention to the soft music playing from the back of the office until he spoke.

“How have you been?”

For some odd reason though, you wanted him to say something to you. You had a lot of things to let off your chest considering the way things ended. You thought of giving him a piece of your mind right there in front of all the staff members, but you restrained yourself.

Instead, you found yourself saying “I’m doing great.”

“That’s good.” He says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t even sound sure of his own response. A few minutes of silence resumes after. You’re a bit startled when speaks again.

“I’m definitely out of line right now, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” A lot. You were bubbling over.

“There’s a lot of things, at least for me, that I’ve never really told you.” He’s looking at you now. “Can we talk somewhere quieter? Whenever you’ve got the free time, and only if you want to.”

He was offering closure to you a bit too late. Or maybe all this time you’d convinced yourself you’d moved on. You often found yourself replaying the morning he brought you home and all the things you should’ve said in that moment.

That’s not exactly moving on. Unfortunately, you also found yourself comparing him to Suguru more often then not. That’s not moving on either.

“Okay,” you said. “Later on today. Round 8pm.”

He looks thankful. Just as he spoke, your counselor called out to you to come into their office. You stand up, looking down at him.

“Cafe then?” He suggests.

“That’s fine. See you.” You shrugged. You didn’t care that much for the place. You heard him say goodbye as the door shut behind you.

You had half a mind to never speak to him ever again. Though both of you were using each other, he knowingly crossed a line, making you feel things for him in a situation where feelings weren’t supposed to be involved. And he never gave you a chance to truly address the situation. Now, almost a year later, he’s ready to speak to you on his own terms. You’d be sure to tell him you had no intentions of making amends with him. If you personally didn’t have interest in what he had to say, you wouldn’t bother gracing him with the ability to explain anything to you.

You would’ve made him suffer. He’s lucky you’re still a bit distraught about the situation. Any longer into your situation-ship with Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t even have the slightest chance at something like this.

Dinner with Suguru was transparent. He could tell something was on your mind but he didn’t pry much after his first attempt. The last time you both talked about Satoru he turned into a different person, and it didn’t sit right with you. You did your best to brush it off, assuming he was just protective over you. But Satoru’s warning in the library echoed in your subconscious more and more. Just what happened between them, and would it be okay for you to ask Suguru about it?

He wasn’t your boyfriend either, but you suppose he wanted to be? You hadn’t brought up the dating conversation in while and you probably wouldn’t until you situated the Satoru thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Suguru’s holding your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His smile is incredibly gentle and you feel guilty for keeping this from him.

Perhaps you should hold Suguru accountable too, for being so sweet to you like this. He informed you he wouldn’t up and leave unless you wanted him to and that he’d never say anything he didn’t mean. But after dealing with trauma from past relationships, affection like this was always perceived cautiously.

“I know,” you say, feeling his lips press against your forehead again. “It’s just not easy to talk about right now.”

“That’s alright,” he assures you. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

His lips connect with yours while his hands slide down your back. He feels you relax a bit, and that makes him smile. How could he possibly be a bad person?

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

You nod, watching him part from you and get into his car. You never did come to understand how he could afford it; a black Mercedes Benz-Coupe. You assumed that and his nice apartment were inherited wealth from his parents.

You wave at him before going into the station. Luckily he had things to attend to, and you didn’t have to bother making up anything about tonight. It was just barely any of his business, right?

You had an idea of what to expect from Satoru when you got there. You were rehearsing things you wanted to say in your head, some of them incredibly mean. You wanted to hurt his feelings too, if you had it in you. It didn’t take you long to get to the cafe, and you’d arrived early, already finding Satoru in the very back, furthest away from people. You gripped your bag strap, before sitting across from him.

“Hey, you’re early.” He says surprised, looking up at you from his phone.

“You’re the early one.” You say, not even cracking a smile.

“How are you?”

“Same as earlier. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s visibly gulping, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. He places his phone face down on the table, turning the sound off. You cross your arms.

“Right,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “Where should I start?” He attempts to gather his thoughts, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I’m not the kind of guy who really addresses his feelings, if you couldn’t already tell at the time we, you know... I’ve been fucked over a lot. I don’t have a lot of actual friends, and I’m constantly aware that people cling to me for my money or looks.”

He never acted like his entourages bothered him per se, but you did notice that he never bothered being around people anymore when the two of you were a thing. You prompt him to continue with your eyes.

“The only best friend I’ve ever had used me until I realized what was going on and cut him off. The first girl I ever really loved chose him instead of me shortly afterwards. Obviously, it’s not a legitimate excuse to have treated you the way that I did, but I guess what I’m saying is that I’m cautious of people and have been for a long time now.”

“But I never tried to use you,” you interjected. You felt a bit insensitive for spitting it out like that, but he really did hurt you.

“I know, and I realized that a bit too late.” He sighs. “But more importantly, I realized that I didn’t talk about or convey my feelings correctly. I know I confused you a lot, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He tried to keep eye contact with you when he spoke, but your lion like force was pretty strong.

��And when I dropped you off— I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were so much more than a warm body to me. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time. Things got so cloudy for me since we were sleeping together. I didn’t know how to address it, and it freaked me out when you told me you wanted more. I should’ve been elated, but I suppose I didn’t want my heart broken again either.”

“So basically...” He breathed out, “I’m really sorry. I’ve got some messy emotions, things I’m gradually learning to deal with. I’m not making excuses for myself. It’s just I never did talk about myself much when we were a thing, so I wanted to tell you something at least, and apologize. I hated the way I left things. I know it’s long overdue for an apology but...”

“But?”

“I still have feelings for you. I never stopped. The more time passed, the harder it made it for me to apologize and tell you how I feel. And then I noticed you were going out with... him, so I thought it was too late. But I still wanted to try, I guess.”

He looked so awkward, you almost laughed. Apologies were definitely foreign to him. You could tell he meant it, but even so, he wouldn’t be getting a relationship out of you, if that’s want he wanted.

You let out a large sigh. For some weird reason all the angry things you wanted to say wouldn’t come out. You wanted to be angry at him but you just couldn’t. And your heart was swelling at the idea of him still having feelings for you. Did he really mean that?

“We’re not together. Not yet anyway— it’s complicated.” You crossed your legs and leant back in your seat. Suguru probably would’ve been your boyfriend already if you weren’t so stuck on Satoru.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You’d never seen him look so small, it was definitely out of character for him.

“I forgive you,” you lean forward, holding your head in your hands. All this time and you still had soft spot for him.

“Really?” He’s surprised. Your friends will be too after you tell them this story.

“You want me to take it back?” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose.

He chuckles nervously. “No ma’am.”

“Are you... doing okay though?” He probes after noticing the stress in your brows.

“I can’t stay mad at you. And I want to so bad. It’d make my life simpler. Now I’m conflicted.” You drag your fingers under your eyes, before smooshing your own face, stressfully so. He thought you were cute, but he felt bad being the source of your distraught-ness.

“So I take it you still have feelings for me?” His voice is regular now, and just barely his normal cocky tone.

You won’t even look at him. “I mean...”

How do you explain to him that the only reason you’re messing with someone right now, who just so happens to be his ex-best friend, is because you were trying to forget about him in the first place?

“I get it if you don’t.” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“I do.” It’s almost instinct for you to correct him. “That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again. You wished you could start over with a clean slate. School and dating shouldn’t be this difficult.

Satoru thought to warn you again about Suguru in that moment, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it seem as if he was badmouthing him so you could favor him more, he wanted you to lean towards him naturally, if possible.

Silence reigned throughout your little booth in the cafe. The sound of rain hitting the window screen made it easy not to talk so much. It also made it hard to see a certain black, long-haired male in his Mercedes Benz, parked just across the street.

Suguru threw his cigarette out the driver’s window, continuing to watch the both of you inside. He shook his head disappointedly before starting his car.

“And that reminds me,” you say, making Satoru swallow hard and shift in his seat.

“What was that nonsense two months prior, about Geto Suguru?”

[thunderheadfred]

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

[wilwheaton]

wow! you really did it this time. who knew you would be the one whod crack the oh so cryptic nazi dogwhistle that the rightwing has been hiding behind all this time? you're truly a genius! now that you have basically compared the official term (that the members themselves have used for years) of the democratic party TO the n-word, the s-word and the k-word, they cant make fun of liberals and leftists anymore, we are finally free. their supplies are SPENT and their defenses BROKEN. thank you mr. wheaton, you have done it! you have defeated fascism! may god bless america!

Just because you don’t know about the history of something doesn’t mean your interpretation and dismissal of that history is factually correct.

You’re probably not going to hear this. That’s okay. This is for anyone else who is open to hearing how this 48 year-old guy got where he is, politically.

The biggest event in my generation’s life is likely the attack on 9/11. None of us had ever experienced something like that, and it wrecked a lot of us.

But in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, all of us who weren’t on board with Bush’s illegal and immoral invasion of Iraq were grouped in with the terrorists who murdered 2000 people. We were The Other. It wasn’t as dangerous or as violent at that is in Trump’s America, but for its time, in its context, it hurt.

Sidebar: We are losing a 9/11 of Americans every two days, to COVID. It didn’t have to be this way. The fact that it is this way is a choice.

The whole point of a slur is to dehumanize and cast out a group of people. slurs shape unconscious public perceptions, encourage prejudices and bigotry, and create The Other.

When our nation was grieving and afraid, Republicans saw it as an opportunity to consolidate power, and one of the ways they did that was to Otherize and dehumanize all of us who didn’t share their political ideology. Our grief was minimized and discarded, and part of that was deliberately calling us The Democrat Party, instead of The Democratic Party. This was started by right wing Fascist Rush Limbaugh. He said that anyone who was a Democrat wasn’t actually democratic, and within 24 hours, elected Republicans at all levels of government, their supporters on hate radio, and right wing pundits were saying “Democrat” party instead of “Democratic Party”. As far as slurs go, it’s nowhere near the slurs propagated against BIPoC, LGBTQ+, and other groups of people who are dehumanized by my fellow white people. But it is still a slur, and it is still intended to dehumanize and delegitimize us.

So we were left with this huge, emotional, psychic wound that we couldn’t heal, a national grieving we were very publicly excluded from. If you weren’t alive then, you likely don’t know what it felt like for us to be told “you’re with us or against us” at a time when “us” meant Bush and the GOP. We lost friends and family and colleagues on 9/11, too. We were afraid, too. We lived in the same country and had the same right to grief and healing as Bush’s allies.

So when I hear a young person, who likely wasn’t alive or was a baby in 2001 and its immediate aftermath repeating a phrase that was used against me and people like me, I take offense. I won’t apologize for that. I also won’t apologize for not being as Left as some of the kids who attacked me. I do apologize for not making more of an effort to communicate clearly and compassionately. 

I can’t imagine that anyone who doesn’t already agree with all of this is still reading, but just in case some of you are open to it, open to hearing this old man’s voice of experience: 

This will be hard for you to believe, but I’m WAY to the Left in American politics. I know I’m not as Left as some of y’all in other countries. I respect where you’re coming from, and I ask you to understand and respect that, in 48 years (30 of them voting and actively participating in campaigns at every level of government), I’ve learned that we will never get as Left as I want. Bernie was as close as we’ve ever come, and as much as I love his message and policies, Americans have been asked, twice, if we want him to be The Guy, and both times America has said no thanks. We tried, again, with Senator Warren, and America said No Thanks. 

That’s a giant bummer, but it has laid the foundation for a new generation of progressive Democratic Socialists who I hope are the future of my party. I believe that the future is progressive, that America can’t continue to exist in Late Stage Capitalism, and that the Republican party as it exists now must be destroyed.

This is likely where we diverge: I vote my conscience and my heart in the primary, but I vote for Democrats in the general election, because even when I don’t get everything I want, I know that of the two options, Democrats aren’t going to deliberately hurt me and people I love the way Republicans will and do.

I’m willing to fight like crazy in the primaries to get the most Progressive candidate into the general, but once we’re in the general, I am going to support the candidate who is closest to me. I sent my message in the primary with my vote, and with my bank account by supporting the most progressive candidates I’m comfortable with. There was a younger version of me who believed voting Green would push the Democrats to the Left, where I was. I was wrong, and boy do I regret ever giving any of them my vote. Maybe it’s different in other countries, but in America, Greens have become useful idiots for Fascists who seek to hold onto power not by winning majorities, but by splitting their opposition’s vote.

When my candidate doesn’t make it out of the primary, I’m not willing to sit out the general, or cast a vote for a candidate who won’t ever win, because I have worked on enough campaigns, been close to enough party officials, and spent enough time in American politics to know that the two parties you despise don’t care at all about  your protest vote. It doesn’t move them to adopt your positions. It makes them dismiss you, entirely. That 90 or 90 percent of things you and the Democrats agree on? Doesn’t matter. You’ve ceased to exist for anyone who will ever be elected or hold electoral away. And because you did not vote for the one candidate who could beat the candidate you hate more, you have ended up supporting not just the candidate you hate, but all of their policies, their SCOTUS Justices, and every single head of every single branch of government.

I want to repeat that, because I really hope someone will hear this the way I couldn’t and didn’t hear it when I was in my early 20s: When you vote third party, not only do you help the candidate you most want to defeat, you take yourself out of the conversation. Nobody who will ever be elected takes you seriously, and all the things you care about will not be any closer to being addressed by people who can actually make a difference.

I don’t want you to give up your seat at the table. I want you to move the Overton Window back to the Left, so we get America closer and closer to being a nation that isn’t overtly racist, doesn’t murder Black people, provides healthcare and college to all Americans at no cost, and holds criminals -- even powerful criminals -- accountable for their actions.

In our Primary, I worked hard to get Senator Warren over the top, but our party and the voters who will decide the election didn’t agree. The people who can end Trump’s criminal reign of terror all said “We want Biden,” and I know this is a hard to swallow pill, but they are the people who matter, and they are the people we need to support if we want to get rid of Trump and stop the Fascist advance in America.

[whump-town]

Counting Down The Days

The real kicker here is that I don't even like Christmas and I don't know at all why I thought of this...

Fluff, not really sad

No Pairings

Spencer has never liked Christmas.

As a child, December rolled in and cast over the city an impossible task. His thin wrist grabbed as he tucked pudding into his sweater and his ears tugged at when he bolted for the door, knowing getting caught one more time would mean child protective services would come back. And each time he picked his mother up off the floor, every time he tucked himself in the coat closet to try and hide from her wailing and shouting, he knew they would see through the veil. His mother wouldn’t survive having him taken away. No one else can get her to take her medication. No one else could read her books in their original forms. German and Arabic and Spanish. And what was the point in reading Don Quixote except to do so in the original Spanish?

But not getting caught shoplifting in December, when all of the staff of every store was watching for just that, is impossible. December met icy cold fingers dragging through his stomach and lying to his mother that he had eaten something while he made her ramen. He can go one more day but she can’t take her meds on an empty stomach.

As an adult, these things have changed drastically. Christmas is great. He really can’t complain. He loves dressing up for Dave’s fancy dinner and turning into a bragging point. The feeling of Dave’s heavy arm around his shoulders, showing him off to his friends. Finally being able to understand what it must feel like to have a parent bragging about you to other adults, even if at a certain point they’re just trying to show up to their friends. That doesn’t change the flush in his cheeks or how nice he feels smiling and stuttering around an explanation of his PhDs. Stomach twisted up and cheeks hurting when Dave finally leans in and relieves the guests with a “see? Kids so damn smart I don’t even understand what he got a degree in!”

He misses Morgan and Hotch.

They’ll come around for Christmas, he knows.

Hank is getting so big and he’s carrying on the tradition of all of Spencer’s other nephews and calling him “weed” but there’s nothing like that big baby smile when he comes in through the door. Tottling steps and an armful of baby. It just makes him want his own kids but for now, he’s content with his nephews. Jack calls him a lot. He got the ability to do math from somewhere but certainly not from his parents -- Haley was an English major and Hotch uses a calculator for basic math. So Reid is generally the only person that he knows who can talk math. Christmas will bring Henry and Jack home from college. There’s speak of a boyfriend but Emily knows only minimally about this from what she’s heard from Hotch and what Jack has told Hotch is also minimal at best. Henry is… JJ gets a lot of radio silence from him but Hotch is quick to assure her that is just typical. Jack did the same thing but now he’s a senior in college and Hotch is lucky if he goes three consecutive hours without some sort of text or call.

“Who is my doctor at home?”

“Do you think Uncle Derek can change my oil? Wait, can I go that long without checking it?”

“What year was Aunt Jessica born? Don’t tell her I asked you that.”

“How old are you again? 53? 60?”

Spencer is just excited to have everyone under one roof.

Hotch and Emily grew up under the kind of parties that Dave throws for Christmas. Tokens to be shown off by their parents and ignored under every other circumstance. Both having been shipped off at least once during their childhoods when they no longer fit a certain look. Emily was no longer young enough to attract her mother’s friends, breast a little too formed, and acne that could not be tamed. Hotch with shadows of bruises that would not heal. Dead eyes that no longer raised from the floor.

Dave’s parties bring out the worst in them. Emily is a very bad influence on Hotch and together they have considerable tolerance for alcohol, they can do some damage. But they’re not loud. Spencer loves to watch the two of them, the way they ease into the night. Hotch warm now, his edges softened to pleased little smiles and thoughtful hums. Emily is chatty, leans into touch, and stretches out like a cat bathing in the sun. The night ends with their soft arguing. Spencer could butt in at any time to the subjects that they talk about but he finds himself far more content to sit and watch. Emily’s toes tucked under Hotch’s thigh and his head turned on the sofa, lazily listening to her speak.

They always approach every subject as if it’s the simplest thing. Let it be Marx, spending the hours in front of Dave’s parlor fire speaking in hushed tones about surplus-value and what makes a commodity. About the ins and outs of Cormac Mccarthy, Hotch loves The Sunset Limited and Emily does not. Whitney Houston and how poor Hotch’s Spanish is and if that’s his fault or hers.

Garcia loves the parties even if it does create a little cognitive dissonance for her. Her parents would hate this but she feels pretty in her gown and no one lets her forget it. She keeps track of the kisses placed on her cheeks. Derek smelling of something woodsy as he leans in with a wink, “you’re very beautiful this even, mama.” And Savannah smells warm and inviting and she gives the very best hugs. “Green,” she whispers, “is very much your color.” How Hotch hums along to songs and always gives in to her request for one dance, his smile growing wild as she steps on his toes.

And Spencer loves that she always asks him to match her. So he’ll proudly come in with his matching bowtie or pocket square. Lending her his elbow as they step in, stepping just out of the way that the right people come to greet him and no one else. Morgan is warm and tight, always squeezing just a little too hard. JJ fussing with his hair.

But it’s only September.

He’ll have to pass through Halloween. Jack and Henry are too old these days to run through the bullpen dressed as whatever fictive hero they have grown obsessed with this fall. Coming up to his desk knowing he’s hidden the largest bowl of candy, that he’ll sneak into their pockets whole-sized candy bars to eat as they trick or treat. At best he might get some pre-game pictures from them both, neither having grown out of their love for Halloween. Jack is still very into dressing up but Henry will still throw something together.

There will be Thanksgiving, a holiday choppily shared between them all. Just showing up at Dave’s randomly or Morgan’s depending on who wins that argument this year. He’ll be lucky to see them all under the same roof. If it’s at Dave’s then he’s guaranteed warm and cozy Hotch and Emily. Both bothering Dave in the kitchen, their lost childhoods always burning the brightest around one another, and exasperating Dave. Maybe Garcia will win her favorite game and Dave will teach her to cook whatever he’s decided they’ll have this year. If it’s at Derek’s then at least he’ll get to see Hank. JJ and Savannah will be there, they’re pretty good friends. Garcia will certainly be cooking something and Derek will be manning the grill.

But it’s months out until December.

And all Spencer wants is unabashed affection.

Dave’s arm around his shoulder and his high sung praises.

Emily snagging him up to dance to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and kissing his cheek for the trouble.

To see Matt and Luke interact with the team. Dave’s attention turning to point out his other boys, “knuckleheads but they mean well”. How Tara will take up the empty space left on the couch and butt into Hotch and Emily’s argument, turning warm and comforting like the other two. And Spencer can’t wait to see how similar the three of them are-- you just have to see through the layers.

Until it’s nearly two in the morning.

Jack and Henry are missing, Luke thinks he might have seen them on the back porch.

Emily is sleeping, head in Tara’s lap and feet in Hotch’s. The other two blinking slowly into the fire, glasses of wine warm in their hands and dangerously close to falling.

Matt is sitting on the floor, children spread out around him.

There’s the buzz of conversation still coming from the kitchen. Garcia, JJ, Savannah, and Kristy giggling over wine and gossip they’re certainly not supposed to know.

Spencer looks up at the calendar sitting above his desk and crosses off the day.

He always hated December. He never got to appreciate Christmas. They represented everything he didn’t have, all the things he thought he could never have. But as mid-September leaves a crisp edge to the air, he finds himself counting down the days tell what used to be a measure of his insignificance.

Now it’s the only day that seems to matter. The only day he feels like he matters. Surrounded by the warmth of familiarity. By love.

He misses his family.

[phoenixyfriend]

I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

[coupsnim]

what would your moots be like as idols?

this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages because 1. I didn't have enough time and 2. I'm not the best at this kind of things 🙈 but I wanted to give it a try

I don't know all my mutuals personally, as I don't talk to most of them (sorry about that...), so I included the ones I think I know better or I see more often on my dash! ☺️

🌼 @scoupsy - the producer, is involved in all artistic aspects of every project, from music production and song writing to album design. is usually the one who comes up with the concept for every comeback and is obviously the richest one, so will buy a lot of meals for the other members (because she may seem a little intimidating, but is a big softie). 🌼 @soonhoonsol - the trustworthy leader, promotes her group better than the agency, defends her members when they get mistreated and is usually the spokesperson at awards shows. as the leader, she goes through a lot, but tries not to show it to the public. is the pillar of the group and all the fans have a soft spot for her (and would do anything to protect her).

🌼 @xuseokgyu - the glue, is the reason why the group is still together, official emotional support and mom of the group. supports every member in all their solo endeavours: sends coffee trucks on the sets of their movies/dramas, is the first guest on their variety shows/radio programs, posts their updates on social medias and promotes them better than the agency.

🌼 @hwiyoungies - the friendly one, speaks to her fans as if they were her bestfriends and likes to chat with them through the group fancafe or by going live. is the one that keeps fans updated on the other members and like sharing little anectodes about funny behind the scenes. probably the one who gives the most spoilers, just for fun. people like her honesty and her not being the most "conventional idol", but she knows when to draw the line when fans get too comfortable.

🌼 @gyukwans - the passionate maknae, variety shows, radio shows, sub-units, solo projects, acting gigs, she does it all! she works so much that her fans sometimes worry if she gets enough sleep or if she takes days off to recharge, but she's young and full of energy and would do anything to promote her group.

🌼 @dongkwan - the radio host, listens to a lot of different artists and likes to share new groups or her favourite tracks with her fans. she probably started with a short podcast and now landed her own radio show where she invites other underrated idols and talks about music.

🌼 @woozi - the social butterfly, knows everyone and has a lot of friends in different groups (but no one knows how and when she met them), even if they're not part of the same agency. cheerful and funny, is known by all kpop fans even if they don't support her group.

🌼 @iiasha - the variety genius, appeared in one episode of a famous variety show, said something funny and now every pd wants to work with her. her sense of humour and wittiness are known not only to kpop fans but to the general public as well. hates appearing on variety shows but still accepts every offer because she's a workaholic.

🌼 @haniehae - the choreographer, the group main dancer that spends hours and hours in the practice room. a little introverted, doesn't speak often on variety shows, but once is on stage or is asked to show her talent, she becomes the brightest star and everybody is left speechless.

🌼 @dkmakemyday - the kind one, never did anything wrong, never said anything bad, has a pure heart and has always nice words for everyone. likes to share little encouraging words on the group fancafe for her fans.

🌼 @jihooned - the idol turned actor, may have started as an idol, but now works mainly as an actress. from cheesy web dramas to legal dramas, from coming-of-age movies to sageuk, she excels in every genre. her distinct acting style is always praised by fellow actors and juniors look up to her and can't wait for her next project.

🌼 @ohoshi - the wild card, no one knows what is going on in her head or knows what her next move will be, but that's what makes her so endearing. has the best reactions, that's why is often asked to guest on variety shows. loved by every single fan, is probably everyone's bias wrecker.

🌼 @julyprince - the blueprint, has such a distinct style that everything she produces is easily recongnisble. fellow artists admire her and juniors take her as an rolemodel, but as it often happens to talented people, other groups' fans don't aknowledge her. that's why her own fans like to make long threads on twitter on how she paved the way.

[nothinghappned]

I posted 323 times in 2021

79 posts created (24%)

244 posts reblogged (76%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.1 posts.

I added 405 tags in 2021

#young royals - 155 posts

#m - 63 posts

#omar rudberg - 54 posts

#the old guard - 44 posts

#edvin ryding - 21 posts

#young royals cast - 19 posts

#luca marinelli - 16 posts

#fanart - 16 posts

#marwan kenzari - 9 posts

#sebastian stan - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 119 characters

#idk if its just me but i like the type of interviews that are more of a conversation and not some king of interrogation

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

joe and nicky fighting with lots of men with swords while they are cuffed together by the hand aka them taking out bad people while holding hands, i would like to see it

241 notes • Posted 2021-03-09 17:32:02 GMT

#4

the fact that omar felt the need to talk about this (as well as bringing up that people are invasive with their families, friends and digging up their old pictures they don't want to see circulating in the internet in that radio interview) should be enough to know that just because edvin doesn't say anything directly it doesn't mean he's not affected negatively by strangers crowding and following him while he's on a private vacation with his friends (or like in any situation tbh). please don't treat him like a zoo animal!

317 notes • Posted 2021-08-25 16:21:45 GMT

#3

"Uh… I haven't really seen… I mean… I have seen people asking, being curious about it. But I just don't really… Like I don't feel like it's important, you know what I mean? Sometimes I feel like I just don't want to, as you said, label myself. And it doesn't mean that I'm this or that. It's just, you know, I'm a human being. Everybody goes through a lot of stages and a lot of stuff in their live, so I just don't really think about that so much. I feel like whenever I fall in love I'll fall in love with that person — and it will be great. So I feel like I kind of think about it like that. Uh… And I mean I don't wanna like close any doors. Like what if I say that I'm gay and then someday this girl walks up to me, and she's like super cute, and she's like super nice and I don't wanna like close any doors. What if I can fall in love with that girl, or you know — reverse, if I ever meet a guy or whoever… Like I just hate closing doors in whatever I do; like clothing, music, my sexuality, my everything. I feel like I'm an open book, I don't wanna close anything so — yeah."

339 notes • Posted 2021-08-27 01:09:52 GMT

#2

is it just me or young royals is basically a love letter to queer people? awkward handholdings, forehead touches, panic, intense eye contact, caressing each other's faces and hair, resting your head in your so's lap while they are running their hand through your hair, that really intense need for physical contact & just touch in general?? come on, y'all know what i mean

460 notes • Posted 2021-07-24 06:40:33 GMT

#1

year 2021: italy bullying the uk

843 notes • Posted 2021-08-06 16:21:46 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[mellometal]

Hey, everyone.

I've tried to compose myself before making this post. This is a subject that I've touched on a little bit in posts, but I've never done a deep dive into JUST this topic. I was going to make a post solely about this subject sooner, but this one in particular is really hard for me to talk about without getting emotional...and yet Dhar Mann has talked about this on quite a few occasions in the most insincere, toxic ways. I'll do my best to discuss this topic without getting too emotional.

It's about a serious subject that people still are ignorant about and don't take seriously. Even to this day, with the body positivity and body neutrality movements. (I don't know of a better way to describe just being neutral about your body. Sorry if it sounds weird.)

For anyone who doesn't know what I'm referring to (honestly, I don't blame you, as this is a subject that's often seen as normal and is encouraged in society for the most part), I'm talking about fatphobia. Hating on people for being fat. Discriminating people because of their weight in the workplace, at the doctor's office, just in general. Not many stores having inclusive sizes. People being treated like they're subhuman because they're fat.

I want to say this first, before I bash on Dhar Mann again: I'm a plus-size young woman. This is something that I have personal experience with. Your weight has no significance to your worth as a person. If you do happen to be overweight, obese, whatever, you're not subhuman. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're worthy of being loved, listened to, treated with kindness, and respected, just like anyone else who isn't fat.

If you treat people like utter shit for their weight, get some help. Why do you care about somebody else's weight? Obviously there's an exception to this, like if they're so big they can't move or they're so skinny their organs are showing....because those are causes for concern, but other than that, mind your own business. Even if they are in those extremities, unless you're their doctor and/or their family, STILL mind your own business. How the fuck does a fat person simply breathing and existing affect you in any way? News flash: there will always be fat people.

Before I get to the weekly ritual of tearing TWO of Dhar Mann's videos apart (the next one will be in another post or I'll reblog this post and continue on there), here's an obligatory trigger warning for the video analysis itself and my response: The following post contains fatphobia, fat shaming, a man being super fucking misogynistic and treating women like they're objects, and there's even a touch of some racial aggression. How shocking. Because Dhar Mann really seems to get a kick out of writing about racism to make it all cute. Oh yeah, you're totally solving racism, Dhar Mann. /s

My response contains my experience with fatphobia, relationships with food, mentioned/implied thoughts of s3lf h@rm, feeling like I'm unworthy of being treated like an actual person because of my weight, and absolute rage. Like usual. My responses are very heated. This one especially. It's LONG. Buckle up.

With all this out of the way, let's get to the first video that I want to tear apart. This one is about the auditions for a record deal. I will get to the video about a kid wanting to be a host of a radio show later.

To sum up the first video, a plus-size white woman (Krissy Elliot) is singing for an agent (Isaac) and his assistant (Evette) so she can follow her dream to become a singer. Isaac cuts Krissy off to viciously bash her for being a plus-size woman. Evette stands up for this woman, and says she sounded fine and to let her finish. Isaac doesn't listen to Evette, let alone take what she said into consideration. He continues to ridicule Krissy for her appearance, that she'll "never make it in the music industry" (WRONG, do you know how many plus-size people are in the fucking music industry? There are A LOT more now than when I was growing up and it honestly makes me so happy. There were more plus-size people in the entertainment industry than in the music industry back then.), suggested that she "become a chef or a food critic" because she apparently loves being around food (being a chef or a food critic are noble professions, but NEVER fucking assume ANYONE'S relationships with food), to the point where Krissy left the room in tears.

Here are a few screenshots for context:

When this skinny, conventionally attractive woman (Jesse) comes in, Isaac's mood does a COMPLETE 180° and he's all sunshine and rainbows. Then right as soon as Jesse did her audition, Isaac is over the fucking moon, complimenting her physical appearance, treating her like an object, and signs her up for a record deal RIGHT AWAY. Pay attention to Isaac's facial expressions in one of these screenshots.

Evette suggests that they sign Krissy for a record deal instead. Because she was "the best singer they've had all day". Isaac, still all hot and bothered by a skinny, conventionally attractive woman that he's treating like an object, tells Evette that people like Krissy don't make it in the music industry because they're "overweight and unattractive", and is verbally aggressive towards her when she does nothing but explain her stance. Isaac sees this as Evette "talking back" (remember how I mentioned that there's racial aggression? He says that Evette is "talking back" because she happens to be a black woman) and fires her. He signs Jesse a record deal and has a blast with her.

The award ceremony comes around, and they're picking a winner for Best New Artist. They pick the winner, and it's....guess what? You'll never get it! It's Krissy Elliot! Why? Because Evette became her agent after Isaac fired her. Krissy goes into her whole story about how she was laughed out of every single agency and that she worked hard. Good for her. Jesse is obviously very happy for Krissy. We gotta love women supporting women.

This video was again another dumpster fire. As usual. Like I said, with this video in particular, I couldn't get through the first thirty seconds the first time around. Because I've dealt with shit like this. Obviously not with the music industry because I don't even think I'd be good enough to step into an agency...but I mean in my personal life.

Being told by my own dad that he was "tired of buying bigger clothes for me" when I was a young teenager, despite him buying almost nothing but "junk food".

Having my abuser make comments about my weight and talking about diets while I'm trying to eat my food, despite her being overweight.

Having someone I know (not anyone I'm friends with) make a comment about me eating a few things (ONE small piece of broccoli, two baby carrots, a small handful of chips, and ONE small piece of pineapple) and said to "save some for everyone else", even though I was saving food for everyone else, which is why I took so little. She tried to justify it with the fact nobody was there yet (why do you think I took very little food?), and she "was saying that to everyone" (why did she look at ME when she said that instead of making it clear that she was talking to everyone [saying "Hey, everyone" before the comment about saving some for everyone else IS NOT HARD]?), even though I know it was just to save her own ass. I knew she said that to me because I'm plus-size. She didn't say anything to anyone else, nor did she make it clear that she was talking to everyone.

Another person I know (not a person I'm friends with) saying that I overreacted (I did not overreact; SOMEONE TRIGGERED ME and you did NOTHING about it) even though they all KNEW my relationship with food is complicated. They KNEW that I don't really like eating in front of other people. I was upset that someone MADE A FUCKING DISGUSTING, TRIGGERING COMMENT ABOUT ME EATING VERY FEW FOOD ITEMS, ALMOST ALL WERE HEALTHY, DESPITE OTHER PEOPLE EATING A LOT MORE THAN I DID AND PICKING AT EVERYTHING. That day, I was begging one of my friends (one of the people I trust to eat around) to PLEASE take me home because I didn't want to be there (never wanted to be there in the first place), I was tired (I worked all night the night before and was forced to go to a meeting before all this happened), I didn't feel comfortable there anymore, there were way too many people (four individuals plus all their staff from another house were in the house I work in), I couldn't breathe (I was either about to pass out, have a panic attack, or just start crying), but nobody listened to me. I ended up getting a bus to go home.

(Sorry about all that. I was trying not to get emotional in this post. I just needed to share how this can affect people.)

Onto my response, which is all in the screenshots below.

ETA: I know the screenshots for my response are very jumbled right now and it’s difficult to read. I apologize to anyone who’s unable to fully read it! Because this is part one of this whole subject of fatphobia (I’m making a post about the boy wanting to become a radio host very soon), my response here will tie into that post. My response to that video is vastly the same, despite not making a comment on that video as of right now (the radio host one). 

I’ll be typing out my full response here. I apologize for weird formatting. Instagram wouldn’t let me break up my response into paragraphs. I’ll break them up into paragraphs here instead.

CC (Combination of the first, second, and third screenshots, aka, the first part of my response):

 I have a few questions before I get into my thoughts on this video. One, how the hell does your weight have any significance on your worth as a person, and if you do think this way, why would you think that? Two, do you know that fatphobia is a lot more than just judging a person for being fat? Three, why do you feel like you can speak for fat people like myself with this piss poor excuse for a video that I could barely get through the first thirty seconds of the first time? 

You can’t speak for any of us. I can’t speak for every fat person because not everyone has the same experiences as me. 

I’ve been bullied for my weight in real life as well as online. People have called me ugly just because of my weight. By the way, your weight doesn’t equal beauty, and that’s what I’m still learning. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. 

On quite a few occasions, I have actually thought about doing dangerous things to my body that I don’t feel comfortable going into here. All because I had people try to boil me down to my weight, call me ugly, and destroy whatever self-esteem I had left. You don’t know what fat people go through, so don’t act like you do. 

There are many factors that go into why a person may be fat, including medical conditions, mental illness, trauma, genetics, etc. All of those things are none of your business unless those people decide to be open about it. 

No, it’s not always healthy to be fat (obviously there are extremities on both sides of the spectrum of weight that are extremely unhealthy), but it doesn’t make a person any less of a human being. Fat people are human too. Quit treating us like we’re not. We deserve to be treated like everyone else who isn’t fat. I’m not saying put all fat people on a pedestal. I’m saying treat us like human beings.

CC (Combination of the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh screenshots, aka, the second part of my response):

Remember how I said that fatphobia isn’t just about judging people for being fat? Well, there’s the “fat tax” on plus-size clothing (even though it maybe only costs a little bit more in fabric, if there’s any difference in making clothes for people who aren’t fat), limited styles for fat people in stores (making a lot of us have to buy fast fashion or have to spend a fortune on clothes that actually flatter us), not very many stores have inclusive sizes still (if you don’t at least carry max 5XL or a size 38/40 in pants size, you cannot call yourself inclusive), and a lot of other things.

Many fat people, myself included, are afraid to seek medical attention for anything (even checkups) because of doctors who only focus on our weight and not on what we came in to see them for. They write it off as if our weight is the sole cause of our problems, which isn’t always the case.

How about we talk about how expensive it is to eat healthy in a lot of places? Not everyone can afford to make fresh meals every day, let alone once a week. Maybe they were never taught how to due to their upbringing. You don’t know.

I’ve had people comment on my weight, what I’m eating (even if I’m eating something healthy like fruits and veggies), talk about my weight or diets EVEN WHILE I’M TRYING TO EAT, and it’s caused me to wait until I’m alone or around someone I trust to eat anything. As a result, I have a complicated relationship with food now.

Telling someone they’re fat doesn’t help them. They know that. They see themselves every day. People may want to change, but they either are afraid to ask for help, or they don’t know where to start. Some may not want to change. It’s up to them, honestly. If you want to help them lose weight, maybe suggest any physical activity they’d have fun doing and do them with them? I dance for fun. Also, you could help set up meal plans with them. 

If you’re not going to at least try to help them lose weight if you’re so concerned about them (this is all if they actually want to change things and don’t know where to start), I cannot say this in a sweeter way: shut your mouth and mind your own business. Because you’re just being a cunt at that point.

CC (eighth screenshot, aka, the third and final part to my response):

There are quite a few plus-size people in the entertainment industry as a whole who are/were very successful. Remember the late Chris Farley and Aretha Franklin? Chris Farley was big, but that didn’t change how great of an actor he was, how funny he was, or how much of an impact he made in the entertainment industry. Aretha Franklin was a plus-size black woman in the music industry, but she’s inspired SO MANY artists we have today! There are many plus-size men, women, and I believe even nonbinary people in the public eye in general. Like I’ve said, beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. That’s why the body positivity and body neutrality movements are a thing.

(I know I implied that I thought about sh here in my response, but please don't worry about me as far as that goes. I'm fine now. I would never go through with anything like that.)

In the last part of my response where I mentioned some plus-size people in the entertainment industry as well as the music industry (the late Chris Farley and the late Aretha Franklin), I was going to name more people, but my comments were getting too long. I'll name some more here off the top of my head:

Lizzo (rapper), the Piggy Dolls (the first K-Pop girl group made up of actual plus-size women), K*v*n Sp*c*y (I don't feel comfortable saying his name because he's a disgusting person, but he's another plus-size man...he was in King of Queens and in A LOT of movies), PSY, Greyson Gritt (a genderqueer person in the music industry), Elle King, Produce Pandas (the first music group in China full of plus-size men), Martha Wash, Chubby Checker, Fats Domino, Big Angel (a J-Pop group of all plus-size women), Chubbiness (another J-Pop group of all plus-size women), Pottya (another J-Pop group of all plus-size women)...there are so many that I found, but if you want to add more plus-size artists, plus-size actors, plus-size comedians/comediennes, feel free to add them in the comments!

Dhar Mann, you'll never know what plus-size people go through. You don't know what we go through. You have NO IDEA what we go through on a daily basis. Stop acting like you do. Because you don't, and you never will.

By the way, Dhar Mann, this will NOT be the last post I'll make about you or your videos. The more you make fucking deplorable, poorly written bullshit, the more posts I'll make! Teehee!

If you got this far, thank you so much. The next part of this is coming very soon. I'm sorry for not posting too many screenshots from the video. I wanted to fit in my response because it's important for people to see.

Have a good day/afternoon/night, y'all. Love you!

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: Descriptive torture; mentions of body fluids; finger whump; whipping; branding; deshumanization; conditioning; pet/slave whump; creepy whumper; mentioned human trafficking; stress position; restraints; panic attacks; mentioning death/wishing for death.

It’s probably the goriest one I’ve written yet, so viewer discretion is advised and read content warning(?)

I think I’ll stop hurting poor baby Haru for a while after this, I’m almost feeling bad about it. And honestly mr. generic whumper here is so evil it’s boring;

He was curled up against a white, familiar wall, waiting for hell to break loose.

He had spent the night walking around the city, cold, hungry and lost. People stared at him weird, because he was disgusting and worthless.

And the more he walked the more he got lost, and all he wanted as to go back… Back to before he had done what he did.. He had run away… One of the worst offenses he could have ever committed. Useless, stupid, stupid.

It was already early morning when he saw one of the Black Coats, tall and scary, all dressed in the uniform of people he remembered so well. People who worked with… With taming and selling… those like him, who should never, ever be considered people.

He ran up to the scary person, and instinctively grabbed the side of their coat, wide eyed and desperate, pleading blue eyes. They took one look at him and looked at his collar with the contact for his owners.

The person thought he was lost and led him to the facility. Well he… He was a runaway. But telling that to the handler wouldn’t help him on any way, it would only make that handler treat him worse... And look at him with disappointment.

He knew he deserved every bit of it… But he wasn’t even sure he would survive what was planned as his punishment once he was............... home. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to survive.

He missed being in the facility. It was… familiar. It was also safer than he had ever felt at that mansion. He would never have dared escape the facility, he wouldn’t even want to. Where would he even go?

So he crawled up to the corner, hugging his knees, tired and scared. He tried to sleep, but the anxiety was too much. All he could do was cry, bracing against the comforting familiarity of those walls.

…But soon they came to take him back.

The same handler opened the cell, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the main hallway. He lifted his pale blue eyes just for a moment, just to see Young Master’s face. He was… calm, and smiling.

He lowered his head immediately, as the handler threw him to his knees and removed the muzzle. Master gave him a deadly glance, while he signed off the papers and paid the retrieval fee.

Part of him had prayed Young Master decided to give up on him and just… Let him be sold again.

But he knew he wouldn’t get off this one so easily.

…It was raining outside. He went for the trunk, but Master held his arm and pointed.

“…Go on the passenger’s sit” That calm, gentle tone was unfamiliar and dangerous. He shivered, but obeyed. He couldn’t be stupid and do things worse for himself. He looked upwards, trying to prevent the tears from falling, almost choking to swallow the sobs. He wished he had been kept muzzled.

Young Master turned the radio on, cheerfully humming the tune. He curled up on the car sit, not even interested in looking outside. He just wanted so bad to disappear. He was expecting Young Master to be screaming, furious, like he always was… But seeing him smiling like that was more terrifying than anything.

“You want to speak, little bird?” He was looking at the pet with the corner of his eyes “Well, you won’t. I’ve been wanting some really some good reason to hurt you for some time now, you know? I have some different things that I would like to try, but normally, it would make dad angry. He likes you more than you deserve…. Well, now I have a reason. Isn’t that wonderful, little bird?”

His eyes widened. Breathe. Breathe. A sob escaped. He quickly hid his face on his palms… Master kept humming the tune, driving idly trough the city.

“Oh, little one. Don’t look so sad now. If only you weren’t so stupid…” he laughed “I was just messing with you yesterday. I wasn’t really going to cut you open. Just make some markings, here and there, the usual. But today… I’ll make sure to cut off your little wings so you never dare to cross that door again.”

Young Master savored the sheer panic on his face, as he struggled so much not to beg, his heart  beating like a drum, the air seeming so scarce he couldn’t breathe. Safe for his sobs and the song, the rest of the car-ride was silent.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------

The servants gave him some pitiful, pale looks as he was guided to the basement. Young Master wasn’t being rough with him. He was just… gently pushing him, a hand on his back, still cheerfully humming… and that terrified him far more than he would if he had just been dragged. Young Master was never kind. Kindness wasn’t free. His kindness was poison.

He closed the heavy door behind them, guiding him to the center of the room, where he fell on his knees.  He had to be good. He couldn’t be dumb and make things worse.

The basement was always a bit dark, walls made of wood and a floor of stone. A lot of scary things hanging from the walls and shelves, and large hooks they could be chained to, a fireplace and old carcasses of cars.

“Hands”

He raised them as fast as he could, despite how much effort that took… they were shaking so much… So pale and so weak, against the heavy metal shackles master locked them with. Young Master lifted him without any difficulty and hang the chain on one of the hooks, leaving him hanging on his tip-toes.

He picked up a whip, first.

“Now… This one is for vomiting over my shoes” Master walked behind him. He ran his fingers over the scarred back, where bruises and marks from other beatings hadn’t healed yet, throwing the long hair over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get on his way “…Twenty. Keep count. Don’t speak, but keep count, or we start over.”

…The whip stroke hard. He whimpered, but otherwise managed to keep composure. Twenty wasn’t so bad. He could take twenty. The second one was worse than the first, and the one after that made him sob. Then again, and again, blood rushing to his back, warm, stinging.

“How many?” Master stopped hitting, he walked closer and led the whip over his back slowly, just, letting it slide over the wounds.

“F-five”

“Good” Master whispered, stepped back and hit again “You are allowed to scream, birdie”

He felt dizzy, he wasn’t strong enough to keep balance. His wrists hurt. The next hits were drawing blood. He wanted to scream but… He didn’t had the strength to do it. He let his head hang low and allowed himself to whimper.

“How many?”

“..A-a…S-six..teen..”  words were hard “P-plea”

“A-ah” Master said, grabbing his cheeks, his nails digging on his skin “We barely begun. You’ll be allowed to beg later. Now you can only scream and cry. I want to hear your pain.”

Master was so close to his face now, entangling his fingers on the white hair.

“Did you understand me?” he nodded “Good. Sixteen, is that your answer?”

He lifted his head slightly. Master had a mocking, dangerous smile… he… He was sure it was sixteen. He had been counting. Had he missed one? Was Master giving him a chance? Was this so he would get it wrong?

He couldn’t begin again. Not when this was just the start. He couldn’t he-

A hard slap, turning his head to the side. Fingers marked on his face.

“I made you a question, mutt” …anger. This was familiar. He nodded quickly. He wasn’t sure but… What else could he do? There was no time to think. Master smiled again “…You are correct. Four left.”

He sighed, relieved. It was a taunt after all… The relief was gone with the next hit, more vicious than the other ones, crossing so many of the other marks. He gasped, closing his eyes shut. Three more and he was sobbing once it ended.

He… Should be able to endure more than that. He had before. Was it the fear that was making it worse? Or… the fact that he really deserved it this time?  He deserved every one of the hits – and more. He hated himself for being bad, and stupid and dumb, just like Young Master said he was. He deserved it, and all that would come later too.

Young Master walked around him, admiring his work. He was still smiling, still calm, hiding… It wasn’t anger. It was excitement. Master hang the whip back on the wall. He dragged… an arm chair to the center of the room, before letting him off the hook and onto it. A chair that belonged to the dinner set upstairs, he recognized it. Young Master must have brought it to the basement before going to pick him up.

He dry swallowed, wondering how much thought had been put into this punishment.

“Now, stay still for me, will you?”

He made his best to, only slightly shivering as the handcuffs were removed and replaced by rope, so tight it dug into his skin. There was no room to move, except for his head. He let the hair fall over his face, trying to hide… But that prompted Master to pull his head back.

“Smile for the camera dear…” Camera? Was there one? He didn’t knew and it didn’t matter, really. Master pulled his hair, dragging his neck backwards so much it hurt. He whimpered, but didn’t resist. He wanted to be good. He deserved this.

He deserved this. It would help him. It would make him better.

He didn’t like pain if it wasn’t to make him better, to correct his mistakes… But this one was. It was pain he deserved. He needed to be grateful.

He swallowed hard, and tried to be grateful.

But it was too scary, and now he couldn’t really see, as tears and panic where clouding his vision. So when Master approached again, he wasn’t very sure what was he was holding. A gentle touch over his hand caught him off guard. He almost relaxed a bit as Young Master rubbed gentle circles on his hand… And then excruciating pain.

…He passed out.

…A second, equally terrifying pain brought him back to reality a few seconds later.

“Don’t you go passing out on me, darling. You know how angry that makes me”

Dizzy… Hurting. Hurting so much it made the lashes on his back seem like nothing. Trembling, he looked down, the world swirling around him, almost incomprehensible… Red.

Young Master lifted something to his field of vision. A pair of bloodied fingernails. His… His fingernails.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t breath-

Master took the pliers to the next one. He wanted to beg, he tried to lean forward… He finally screamed.

Blood. Red. Pain. No air. No air no air no air. Red. Pain.

“please”

A slap. He doesn’t care, it feels like nothing compared to what just happened. His eyes are wide, teary and shocked.

“Ah-a. No begging yet. I haven’t allowed it.”

“Mercy. P—lease. Mercy? I-it will-”

Another slap, and his head was pulled backwards. Young Master runs his thumb over his face, cleaning tears and sweat while the other hand is firmly tugging his hair.

“Now now, you crossed every single limit yesterday, dear little bird. You disrespected me. And I’ll make sure you never dare to do it again”

He lets his head go, taking some time to admire his pet’s face. He moves to the next nail, an almost childlike smile.

He is fully aware this time. No shock and no adrenaline rush to coat a bit of the pain. No feelings of being lost, just the pain of flesh tearing. He feels sick. He can’t choke his screams anymore, not when they are being pulled, exposing the tender, bloodied skin underneath. Master praises him, but it’s mocking. It doesn’t really matter; his voice is distant behind a wall of pain.

Time seems to slow down. All he has now is agony, his body trembling, pulling hard against the ropes.

“Last one now, baby” Master says “Then we move to your little feet.”

…A strangled whimper is all he can manage. At some point, his bladder gives out, much to Master’s amusement. He is mocked for it but can barely understand the words.

He stares into nothing, wide eyed, as the minutes drag themselves. Everything is red. Everything is pain. Everything is blood.

And at some point a hand… full of bloodied nails is placed in front of his eyes. He has no strength to react… No voice to scream anymore. He stares, wide blue eyes, drenched in sweat and tears, shaking so much his teeth clank.

“I should start collecting those” Master says… returning to the table. Sounds of metal. He shivers, trying so hard to just… breathe. It’s not over yet? What is it going to be now? How will he survive?

He can’t breathe, he feels like he will die, he wishes he would die.

Master comes back without anything. He holds the pets chin, gently pulling the hair off his face, using his sleeves to clean the tears, sweat and snot. He smiles.

“This was… very fun. You look so pretty now little bird. I think I can finally understand why father thinks you are beautiful” he laughs “…Now you think you have learned your lesson?”

He needs a moment to realize he has to… to answer.

“y-ye-s I-“ he sobs “P-please I, I … It will neve-r, nev-er, i-it it is… Mas-master, p-pleas-“

Master places a hand over his lips, shushing him. He tried to lean closer to Master, but is held back by the ropes. The burn they cause seems so minor in comparison to the sheer agony right now, he barely notices.

“There there, pet” Master smiles “Just one more thing, and we will be done. “

He whimpers.

“N-no…m-more…no…” His voice is broken. He mouths please, over and over and over even if his voice has given out.

“Shush, don’t discuss with me now, bird. I need to make sure you know your place” He smiles, the pet follows him with his eyes, terrified to even blink “It will be quick.”

Master moves away. He has no strength to hold his head up when Master lets his chin, but looking down is bad, he sees the bloodied fingers. Thankfully there is nothing on his stomach to throw up. Red. Blood. Pain.

“Tell me little bird” Master appears back in his vision field “You’ll never run again, will you?”

…blazing iron, held so close to his face he can feel the heat.

“i-iit w-wil n-ev-er run f-from… mas-master…ple-ase” so, so hard to speak. So hard to breathe. Nothing in the whole world exists anymore. Just Master, burning iron, the bloodied fingers and the pain. “it-is is is yo—rs f-for-e-vv-ver. M-mer-mercy…”

He can’t anymore. Teeth clank as he shivers. His tears have stopped, even. Master smiles, contempt with the answer.

“Good boy. Now let’s make sure you don’t forget”

…He presses the iron against the sole of his feet. His vision goes black, and then covered with spots of red pain. And he feels cold. A terrible shiver runs down his spine, as the heat seems to be drained from his whole body, except that one, awful burn. The smell is nauseating.

It’s just a few seconds, but it feels like hours. It’s only removed to be placed on the other one.

Everything seems to fade again, and he wishes… He wishes he was dead.

It’s all… Red. Burning. Blood. Pain.

…Cold water on his lips brings him to tears again. He barely realizes as the ropes are cut off. Young Master is speaking a lot, but he can’t make sense of it.

He is lifted from the chair, scooped by Master’s arms. He wants to grab Master’s shirt, but the bloody fingers hurt too badly. He lets his body limp, his head resting over Master’s shoulder, and the world goes dark again.

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpzone

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 24 - The more its restored, the less like the original it becomes.

K: This is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome....*points to Joe with his bare leg showing*..Errr, are you hot?

J: No, I mean, its hot isn't it?

K: Yeh, it is.

J: How do you feel about Summer? Im really bad with Summer!

K: Well, I don't like the heat, but I don't really go outside all that much.

J: Really? By the way, what are your favourite seasons, Kaoru?

K: Autumn and Spring.

J: Well, yeh right? Which do you hate the most? Winter or Summer?

K: Im really sensitive to hot and cold.

J: Oh really?!

K: But, hmm, which one? Maybe Summer is better.

J: Summer is better? Ehh? But in the winter you can always put on extra clothes if you are cold..but in Summer...we have our limits, right?  Summer is...

K: Can't you just put the aircon on?

J: I do...but..

K: If you go outside, right?

J: Outside is also hot, and if you leave the aircon on constantly inside, you'll catch a cold. Its hard, I really don't like summer at all!

T: Haha

J: You're also limited in what you can eat, right? You have no appetite, you get bored of eating soumen noodles every day.

K: Yeh, that does get boring.

J: In winter you can have big hot pots, and all sorts!

K: I eat hot pots in the summer too.

J: Really?!

T: Ehh?

J: Incredible! Ah, but on the other hand, yes, that kinda works.

T: Wouldn't you feel cooler? After eating it?

K: I feel hot.

J: You feel hot? haha.

K: Hahaha

J: Its is hot!

K: I get really hot! Haha

T: Do you eat it with the aircon blasting?

K: Well, even with the aircon blasting, I still sweat a lot.

J: Its hot, right? But doing that feels good? Conversely?

K: What have you been eating?

J: Salad, basically.

K: Did you say you were on a diet?

J: Yeh, my belly is getting round.

K: Weren't you going to the gym?

J: I am going to the gym!

K: Haha.

J: I started with squats, and when I lifted up, it was so hard*1.

K: Hahaha

J: My muscles hurt a lot today. I can't walk up the stairs.

T: Hahaha

K: At 50, you're like...

J: Getting my teeth out...

K: Getting your teeth out..

T: Doing squats...

J: Yeh, well im divorced, and im aiming to remarry, so this is my last spurt. If I havn't reached my goal by age 55...

K: You've entered a plan to reform yourself?

J: Yes, I have.

T: Joe, you're young!

J: If I havn't managed it by 55, I'll give up...*gestures to camera* So, please,  everyone.

K: Why are you smiling?

T: Hahaha

J: I've kinda been wanting to do that.

K: Hahaha

J: Lets cut that bit.

K: No, we'll show it

J: Hahaha

K: We won't cut it, haha. Ok, Joe san. Today's news please.

J: Yes, this is today's news. We talked about this news a little bit once on the radio show, didn't we?

K: Yeh, we did.

J: Right? Well this is news about how "The more it was restored, the less like the original it became". So in Spain, its been disovered that  an amatuer tried to re-touch a famous work of art, and failed twice. The altered work is a oil painting copy of the 17th century piece by the Spanish Baroque artist Bartolomé Esteban Murillo. The title of the work is, 'The Immaculate Conception of Los Venerables'. The owner of this piece, an art collecter based in Valencia, who paid 1200 euros for it, had requested an employee of a furniture repair company to clean the painting. But during the cleaning, the Virgin Mary's face changed. After not one, but two restoration attempts, the painting was completely ruined, and the owner was apparently very angry. So, if you search for it, you will be able to find the images online. We can't show you them here due to the issue of image rights (*On screen text: Search for Spain painting restoration*). But...yehh..

T: Its incredible, isn't it?

J: This is shocking!

K: They weren't looking at how the picture is supposed to be, were they?

T: *Looking at his paper* Is the top picture the first restoration attempt?

K: Yeh, the one on the left is the original state, and on the right is the first restoration.

J: The top right, yeh.

*Lots of giggling*

J: This has zero sense of Maria! It looks like some vandalism.

K: Its looks like those pictures they stick up outside the police box *2

J: This first attempt is bad enough...

K: Its terrible, really bad!

J: But it generally still fits with the original Maria's line of gaze, right?

K: Yeh, but like, you can see the whites of her eyes. The top half is totally black.

J: If this is restoration work, it means they took money for it?

T: ??? *3

J: Really!

K: How did they actually do it though? Normally you have to use a matching colour to the original, and just do it like this, right?*imitates dabbing paint finely*

J: I think so.

K: But it seems like this person has just gone like "Gahhh' *imitates waving a paintbrush around roughly*

J: They re-painted it, right?

K: They are just slapping paint on, you can't see much detail.

J: Re-writing it! Its terrible!

K: They were somehow trying to remember what it used to look like.

J: At least they could have taken a photo..

K: Without that, this third try is never gonna work.

J: Everyone, please search for these images online. The third image is shocking!

T: The second pic is still looking upwards and kinda has a bit of the orininal feel to it, but the third pic is just staring straight forward!

K: Its the same person who did them both, right?

Kami: Um..I just..

J: Ah, Kami is here.

Kami: Um, I had a look at it, but where did her clothes go?

J: Huh? (*looks at paper*) Ohh, her clothes?

Kami: Yeh.

J: In the original, the area from Maria's chest and up is visible, but by the third picture, the clothes cover up to her head. This is awful!

T: Its scary, isn't it?

J: This is...well, where is the real problem? Even this kind of person has the authority to do restorations, even people at this level.

K: I dont know if they had the authority, they were just asked.

Kami: Yeh, the owner asked a furniture business to do it.

J: Yeh, someone from the furniture business came to restore it.

Kami: If you ask a furniture store to do it, this kind of result can't be helped.

K: For sure. ????*4

Kami: Maria got really ugly.

T: Ahh, I see! Originally, they were supposed to be just cleaning it right? Like, removing the dust.

J: Yeh, that might have been it. Like the painting was deteriorating, and in order to stop it getting worse, or something like that. They must have thought it was ok to go ahead and re-paint it.

K: The person who did it was quite eldery weren't they?

J: Ahh, I see.

T: This is crazy

J: But after seeing their first try, they should have given up trying to fix it for a second time. Somehow, that would've been better.

K: The owner shouldn't ask the same person to fix it, right?

J: Right!

K: But, well, it won't go back to its original state will it?

J: No, it won't.

K: Even if a new person could get to back to this (*points at the first restoration attempt*)

J: ??? Its like hell if you keep going, and hell if you stop. In the end, its like ??? *5, it would be no good...Well, its an impressive thing.

K: Yeh, but imagine if you wanted to keep viewing the painting, as for the first restoration,   if you look at it from far away, it kiiinda still resembles the original a bit. But the second one is no good at all.

J: Yeh, its no good. In the first one you can kinda still see that they were trying to paint the virgin mary, but in the second restoration, it looks like an old woman..not even a proper portrait.

T: Her nose is well defined though, haha.

J: Well, yeh...Isn't the Virgin Mary a friend of Kami's?

Kami: Well, the one in the original is my friend. The third one is totally different.

J: Its no good?

K: That kind of old woman, really.

J: Do you consider this to be a profanity? Is this ok?

Kami: Well, its ok, isn't it?

J: Hahaha.

Kami: That kind of thing.

J: Ah, its ok.

Kami: The original is really well painted isn't it?

T: Mm, yeh.

Kami: Yeh, I think its a really good picture.

K: Its a copy though right? There is someone who painted this as a copy?

T: Yeh, there is a proper original.

K: It would be pretty expensive to hire that person to fix it, right?

J: I think they were trying to save money. 140000yen was too much for them. I wonder how much it usually costs to have a painting decently restored? How much did they save?

K: It probably takes quite a long time to do.

T: I think it takes a really long time.

J: Yeah. Well, when they saw how it ended up, it says the owner was angry, well, yeh, he would be angry wouldn't he?

K: Yeh, he would. Cause its his precious painting that he just wanted cleaning.

J: Yes, thats it.

K: I can only laugh at this, haha. Its a total disaster, really.

T: It really is.

J: Well, the lesson to learn from this is that a ricecake maker makes ricecakes. If you want anything repairing properly, hire a professional..otherwise this type of thing will happen.

T: Thats it.

J: Don't be stingy!

T: Its problematic if they pretend to be a pro, then take your money. But in this case they were just a furniture store.

J: Asking a furniture store to do it was the mistake. Why did they ask a furniture store?

T: But they still said, 'Yes, we can do it', right?

J: Hmm, yeah.

K: They had the look of someone who could do it. The owner was fooled.

J: Its like 'The Guild', they may have had the look of a craftsperson. You have to be careful with appearance too.

K: Well, I think we'll finish here. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

J: Go Hanshin Tigers!

*1, 2 Couldn't make out the last words, but i think its something like this.

*3, 4, 5 Couldn't make out.